tagFetishBecoming the Bull Ch. 01

Becoming the Bull Ch. 01

byInnocent_Outside©

Only two weeks had passed since I was hired to do data entry before I was called into Jane's office. She was the owner of the small business, so I was immediately concerned my employment was going to be terminated. The job was my first since getting out of college, and I felt it was a step up from working retail or in food service. That's why I was so worried as I walked from my desk to Jane's office.

Jane was an intimating woman. She was taller than me, had a thick, curvy build, and always dressed in sharp looking business skirts and jackets. Her outfits never failed to accentuate her shapely form. Her hair was long, black, wavy, and worn in a prim bun or held up by a clip in the back. Occasionally she would wear it in a tight ponytail that looked as if it would pull her hairline back. Her face, with high cheekbones and a subtly strong jaw, was quite attractive, even without much makeup.

On top of that, she had a no nonsense attitude that often bordered on condescending and somewhat mean. Of course, if you stayed on her good side, she would treat you with respect. But the moment you did something wrong, the bitchy side became quite apparent.

Her life outside of work was a mystery to me. I assumed she was married based on the ring she wore on her left hand. But beyond that, there was little I had learned. I wasn't even sure how old she was, though if I had to guess I'd say she was in her late 40s.

"You've been doing great work so far," she said after I was seated across from her. She clasped her hands together on the desk. "How would you feel about being my personal assistant and getting a dollar raise?"

My eyebrows went up and I looked at her for a moment. "Sure, that would be great," I replied and smiled. The relief I felt must have been obvious on my face.

"Good. You'll start immediately," she stated. "There's much to do, so get whatever you need and bring it in here. You'll be at that desk."

I didn't hesitate to follow her directions. Once I had what little I needed, I set up on a desk in her office. I was a bit concerned by the desk because it was higher than usual so that whomever used it could stand rather than sit. Nevertheless, I didn't complain.

At first the work wasn't any different than what I had been doing, except I was reporting directly to her and she was giving me tasks. However, as the weeks went by my work began to involve other activities that had nothing to do with data entry, and were more fitting of a secretary or janitor. First it was getting her coffee, then emptying her trash basket, cleaning the floor of her private restroom, and so on. Eventually she even had me scrubbing the toilet.

Not once did I object, complain, or ask why she was giving me such tasks. I was making decent money and didn't feel like putting my job at risk. Perhaps she knew that and was simply taking advantage of the situation. Regardless, I accepted my role as her subordinate and continued to work hard.

"I need you to stay late today," she told me one Friday afternoon.

"Okay," I replied. I was a single 24 year old guy with a very minimal social life, so sticking around didn't bother me at all.

When 6 o'clock rolled around and the other six employees had gone home, she closed the office door and locked it. This wasn't all that unusual during normal hours when she had to place an important phone call, so I did not think much of it.

"Wet this for me and lather it with soap," she said as she pulled a washcloth from a leather handbag next to her desk.

I did as she asked while wondering what in the world she was going to have me do next. I assume it was just another one of her unusual chores for me. When I was done, I found her sitting on her desk peeling the nylons from her legs.

"Sit," she said and gestured to the chair in front of her. "Good, now wash my feet."

I glanced up at her, and upon seeing her looking back expectantly, I held back on asking why. For the next several minutes I washed one foot, paying special attention to getting between her toes. Once she was satisfied she set the clean foot down between my thighs and presented the other to me.

As I washed the foot, I could feel the clean one moving closer to my crotch. I wasn't sure what to think, and I certainly didn't feel comfortable speaking up to express my discomfort with the situation. Jane was too intimidating, and I really needed the job. By the time I was finished washing, only the fabric of my pants kept her toes from touching my genitals.

"Good, now rub them," she said with tone that suggested she was enjoying herself.

I sneaked a sigh of resignation and started to massage one foot. "At least they're clean," I thought to myself. Occasionally she would moan softly while I worked, so I felt confident that I was doing a good job. When I finally finished the first foot, she placed it in the same spot as the other against my crotch, and lifted the one that needed attention. Though I hadn't found any kind of sexual appeal in what I was doing, my cock felt differently. It was quite hard and I worried that her foot would soon discover my arousal.

"You're a very obedient young man," she remarked while I worked and applied gentle pressure against my balls. "I'm very pleased by your efforts."

"Thank you," I replied.

"I'd like for you to refer to me as ma'am from now on," she stated.

"Yes," I said while massing the ball of her foot. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she said with a content sounding sigh. "That's enough. You can go now."

I waited for her to put her high heels on and get off of the desk before I stood from the chair. "Thank you, ma'am," I said.

I dismissed the foot washing and massage as a one time thing over the course of that weekend. However, the next Friday afternoon she told me - not asked - that I'd be staying late again that day. Once again she had me wash and rub her feet while using her toes to nuzzle my balls through my pants.

Upon finishing, rather than dismissing me for the evening, she said, "Now I want you to clean them with your mouth."

For the first time I found myself very tempted to voice my displeasure of her request. I looked up to her face and my inner strength waned. I couldn't bring myself to face her wrath should I object to her orders.

After a few moments of reluctance while studying one of her feet, I stuck out my tongue and licked the big toe with the tip of it. "Use you're mouth, not your tongue," she stated firmly. "Good. Swirl your tongue around it. Oh, that's it. Keep that up until I tell you to stop."

I washed her big toe for what must have been several minutes before she had me move on to the next toe. The process was repeated for each of them on both feet. While I was doing that, her free foot was much more active against my crotch, slowly creeping up and down, pressing against my erect cock through my pants, and causing me much internal conflict. I wasn't sure if I should embrace the way she was exciting me, or if I should go somewhere in my mind that would fight against any sexual arousal I may be feeling.

Fortunately she did not take her contact with my private parts any further. Though by the time I finished with her toes, I was rock hard and could feel precum had been oozing from the tip.

I jerked off that night while thinking about Jane. Prior to that day I had never thought of her in a sexual manner. I imagined her foot covered in lube, with my cock sliding between the two biggest toes, as she moved it ever so slowly up and down until I shot my load.

She had me wash, rub, and orally clean her feet again the next Friday. As a result of my own fantasizing, I was less reluctant to please her the second time around. In fact I found myself trying to do as good a job as possible while cleansing every part of her toes with my lips and tongue. Once again, as usual, her free foot had been rubbing my crotch, though she had taken the liberty of pressing against my cock much more than my balls.

Perhaps she sensed my desire to do well, or maybe she had been planning everything out in advance, but when I finished she had me stand up in front of her. She lifted a foot and pressed it firmly against the fly of my pants where my hard cock was secured in my briefs.

"Show it to me," she stated.

I hesitated and felt myself flush with anxiety. "You're married, ma'am," I said quietly and looked at the floor. For some reason I felt slightly ashamed, though I wasn't sure why.

"Yes, I am," she answered. "And that's none of your concern. Now show me your cock."

I looked up at her and swallowed nervously before finally relenting. I unbuttoned my pants and unzipped the fly, then pushed my briefs down while trying to hold both garments up. She reached out with her foot and tugged them down with her toes, so I let them fall around my ankles.

A soft moan emitted from her lips as she eyed my erect penis. It was hard enough to be pointing slightly upward. There was a beat of clear precum beginning to leak from the slit.

"Beautiful," she whispered. "You're so much larger than my husband."

I thought that might be it, that I might be pulling my pants up at any moment. Instead, Jane slid off of the desk, pulled up her skirt, and tugged her panties down. After freeing the lacy black garment from her legs, she squatted down and pressed the cloth to her crotch. I could hear her sigh softly before she stood up and held the panties out between us. She turned them upside down and placed them on my head so that the part that covered her crotch was over my nose. The smell of her urine was quite evident.

"You'll learn to enjoy that scent," she stated as she returned to her spot on the desk. "Now come closer."

I stepped nearer to where she sat on the desk so I was standing between her open legs. She reached down and wrapped her hand around my stiff rod and began to slowly stroke with a loose grip. I could already tell I wouldn't last very long.

"I can feel you pulsing with excitement already," she said before she let go.

As I felt a pang of disappointment, I was surprised to see her reach to the buttons on her top and unfasten them. Once she had revealed her substantial cleavage, her hand returned to it's place on my cock and resume stroking.

"I bet you want to see them, don't you," she stated and I nodded. "Some day, but not right now."

We didn't speak while she continued to slide her hand slowly up and down my shaft. There was enough precum that loose grip didn't require lube. I couldn't recall having ever been so turned on in my life. As she stroked I could hear only the sound of her breathing and the schlicking noise of her hand on my flesh.

I would guess that only a couple minutes passed before I felt the wonderful sensations that preceded an orgasm. My hips rocked slightly as I tried to get more out of the motion of her hand. Out of nowhere my body jerked involuntarily.

"Are you going to cum?" she whispered so I nodded my response. "Good boy. Right here on my foot."

My breathing had become ragged, and each time I inhaled I was reminded of the aroma of her piss. Without breaking her rhythm, she lifted a leg and planted her foot right by the head of my cock. Moments later the first jet of milky white fluid shot out and landed by her toes. As more cum followed, she pointed the head so that the juices covered the spaces between each toe. Once the last of my cum was out, she stroked a few more times and finally released her hold on me.

She reached up and held my jaw with her other hand. Looking into my eyes, she asked, "Are you ready to prove that you are worthy to be my young slut boy?"

I was still recovering from the powerful orgasm and didn't think much about the question. Instead I simply nodded.

"Good. On your knees then," she said and smiled. I held the desk while I lowered myself in front of her. "Clean your cum off of my foot."

My brain suddenly cleared upon hearing her instructions. I looked at my load of sticky fluids that had collected on and between her toes. I'd always been repulsed by the idea of consuming my own semen, so I found myself struggling to please her.

"Do it," she said firmly.

I moved my mouth to her foot and hesitated while I fought off the urge to gag. Once I recovered, I began sucking the cum off of each toe and making sure they were clean. I almost gagged a couple more times before I was finally able to get past it.

"Good boy," Jane said when I finished. "Now clean yourself up. You're free to go."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said.

Once I had my pants in order and was headed out of the office, Jane called out to me saying, "Don't bother packing a lunch on Monday. We'll be going to my house."

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