tagBDSMFace (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 02

Face (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 02

byEricDumuzi©

Poor Eric, he only knew what Gina let him know. There on his knees kissing her boot, absorbed in sexual submission, seduced by surrender, Eric had no idea how lost he was. All he knew was that he had screwed up. He had gotten himself fired. That was a disaster; he had lost his six-figure income, and he had no idea how to recover. Worse, he had been fired for sexual harassment, and Gina had found out.

Eric had been on the job only a few years and he was already a top salesman, hot stuff, and buddies with the boss. He sold supplies to the military, things like the infamous five hundred dollar toilet seat. Eric didn't sell the big high profile stuff like aircraft; rather, he exploited the huge profit margins to be reaped on specialized orders for ordinary stuff made to look special. He sold things like semi-trailers full of biodegradable, women and minority contracted toilet paper. He sold off-the-shelf stuff repackaged as low volume custom-made parts. Mostly that involved changing the price tag. It was all legal; Eric knew the rules.

But more than knowing the rules Eric knew how to exploit the military brass. Eric knew all about entertaining his clients. Eric provided women and excuses to horny, grateful procurement officers and Department of Defense bureaucrats as he sold outrageous amounts of product at outrageous prices. Hammers, screws, award metals, magazine subscriptions, tampons, gas masks, hamburgers—it was all a gold mine. He was young, good-looking and rich. Women loved him. His colleagues were in awe of him. Except for the boss, none of the guys at the office had any idea what made Eric such a great salesman. He came and went as he pleased, and he spent little time confined to the office.

Eric's sales methods were highly unethical, but very successful. Most of the guys buying the stuff were bored, repressed and horny, and the occasional women buyers were usually lesbians and also bored and horny, but perhaps not so repressed. Eric knew just the right woman to make each buy-guy or buy-gal happy. He knew lots of girls in the entertainment business, including strippers who usually didn't do prostitution, but who were trained professionals in driving men crazy. These girls were Eric's friends, he paid well, and they would do almost anything Eric asked.

Usually this meant getting the client comfortable, followed by straightforward x-rated entertainment like rubbing big tits in the guy's face, hiking up short skirts and sliding fingers into slick, shaved pussies, or a girl on girl suck fest that transformed into a frolicking dick sucking threesome. Maybe Eric would start the client off with a round of golf and a few drinks in the clubhouse. Then it was up to the hospitality suite where Eric discreetly exited and left the buyer to his special assistant, or several assistants for those who might enjoy a three-ring circus. All the brochures were there and all the contacts were ready for signature. Eric's inside joke with his girls was that he paid a bonus if they could get the client to fuck them on a table on top of the signed contract. Come stains did not invalidate the deal. A good time was had by all.

However, sometimes more imagination was needed. One particular guy was an uptight born-again Christian who was trying to save the world. Eric didn't think he could play this guy at first, until he introduced him to his most creative girl, Shyanne. Shyanne? Her trailer park Mom couldn't spell.

Shyanne was a long time call girl, and a frustrated actor. She had done some work in porno films where her fair skin, blue eyes, and thick, silky, blond hair—and beautifully done silicone boobs—commanded a premium. Shyanne loved putting on a raunchy sex show. Although Shyanne generally acted like a foul mouth hard ass, Eric knew that she could play the sweet innocent.

Eric told Shyanne to get as clean and bright as a Mormon on Sunday, and he then introduced her to the Christian weapons buyer as his secretary. Shyanne walked into the room in Sunday-go-to-meeting high heels and a flowery sundress with the belt cinched tightly around her tiny waist. Her bosom bulged behind a modest, frilly front. The good Christian melted when she knelt down beside his chair, handed him some critical documents that he should have scrutinized, and, batting her eyes, tenderly pleaded, "Here, sir, maybe these papers will help you. Eric says you are a man of the Lord. It gives me great comfort to know that there is at least one man of God looking out for our boys out there on the front line. Please, excuse me, but well, some the other procurement officers are, well, it is just that sometimes they seem so course. It is good to know that a godly, refined Christian such as yourself is in charge. If there were anything at all that I can do to help you, I would be honored. Truly, I would."

It may have been the bulging bosom, it may have been the big blue eyes, but when the good Christian looked at the beauty kneeling at his side he knew what had to save next, and it wasn't the taxpayer's money. For maybe a year, repeated sales of excessive military junk went well. The good Christian earnestly tried to save Shyanne while Eric made a small fortune. Unfortunately, the whole thing came to a messy end when the good Christian announced that he had dumped his wife and he asked Shyanne to marry him. Shyanne was appalled, and Eric had to concoct an elaborate lie to get rid of the horny fool.

Eric rewarded Shyanne by hiring her to be his real secretary. She wanted to get out of prostitution, she was bright, cooperative, and now well off from the profits Eric shared with her, so this seemed a perfect arrangement. Shyanne happily did Eric's bidding, setting up whores for his clients, setting up dates for Eric, and sucking Eric's dick whenever he wanted. Shyanne had nothing to do with other employees in the company, first because she had nothing in common with them, and second because Eric could have blackmailed Shyanne with her past. Shyanne worked for Eric and no one else. Shyanne genuinely liked Eric and was his comrade in arms against the rest of the world. For Eric, life was good.

Eric didn't know it, but his life irrevocable changed when the old man retired and turned the company over to his daughter Ashley. Ashley was fresh out of an Ivy League MBA program, and she seemed way too young to run the business. Just this appearance could have been a real problem. The defense business depended on subterranean political bribes, revolving door good old boy networks, and general corruption hidden behind security clearances and political schmooze—not to mention sex in the hospitality suite.

Ashley's Ivy League professors knew next to nothing about these things. The theories and academic attitudes learned in the Ivy League MBA program were worse than useless. Typically, defense-contracting businesses were run by retired generals cashing in on inside information and connections, collecting their so richly deserved millions after years of serving the public interest through sweetheart contracts for excessive military hardware. But despite everyone's expectations, the youthful Ashley was successful. Her secret, and that secret was actually marked top secret in Ashley's FBI file, was her unusually close, and unusually unusual, relationships with several well-placed senators. That and that Ashley was, despite her cool, austere demeanor, a genus at corruption. She was Daddy's little girl. Corruption was Ashley's vocation, avocation, and her life's project.

Eric tried to lay low when Ashley took over, but Ashley wouldn't leave him alone. She just didn't seem to like him. Ashley seemed to go out her way to interfere with his work and to subtlety cut him down to size in the office pecking order. She forced Eric to spend his days in the office. She made Eric show up at worthless meetings and disparaged his work in front of his colleagues. She called him into her office and warned him that she considered his habit of dating women in the office to be unacceptable. Eric didn't take the bait; he was all 'Yes mam, thank you for pointing that out. Of course, I will attend to that, and I am so grateful for your assistance. I will do better, thank you.' Eric battened down to ride out to ride out the storm. Besides he had all ready fucked all the office girls worth fucking.

Ashley was pretty, remote, and cold. Eric wondered if she wasn't a dyke dressed up in a conservative women's business suit. Eric's easy charm that seemed to work on everyone else just seemed to antagonize Ashley. But Eric was a star salesman, he made the company buckets of money, and so he thought he was safe. Things went well enough at first, but after a month, completely out of the blue, Ashley promoted Shyanne to be her own secretary. This was just after Eric had met Gina.

Eric had been shopping for new Jaguar. He didn't need a new car, but he had money to burn and new cars were Eric's second favorite toy, after new women. While wandering through the dealership he met Gina. She was wearing an erotic caricature of a woman's business suit, dark blue wool with pin strips, a short jacket with crisp shoulder pads, a white shirt with a starched collar and a solid red mannish tie. The skirt was very short and very tight. Gina's shapely ass jutted out below the tight waist of the jacket and just above the hem of her skirt. Each step was a provocation. Gina's shapely legs were clad in black hose and propped up on black stiletto heels. Her short black hair was slicked back and dark glasses hid her eyes. Her lips were full and bright red. Hot new cars and a hot new girl, this was a great showroom.

Eric thought that any woman that attractive, that provocative, and rich enough to be shopping for a Jaguar must be a high-class whore. He struck up a conversation, and then they test-drove a slick sports car together. She drove. She drove fast. The chitchat stopped as she drove off like racecar driver. Gina paid no attention to Eric. He sat pale faced plastered to his seat by the G-forces, his heart thumping in his throat, at the mercy of this mad woman's recklessness. When they got back, Gina excused herself with perfunctory smile. Eric watched her walk away, ass swaying with the rhythm of confident strides, stilettos snapping on the hard showroom floor. Eric's heart thumped in time.

With one hand on the door, Gina turned toward Eric's lustful gawk. She raised a finger and motioned for Eric to come. Dutifully Eric sauntered over half expecting a sex for hire sales pitch. Instead, Gina offered to buy Eric dinner. Eric was flattered and boasted to himself about his power over women, even a grade-A woman like Gina. He just didn't understand. Eric's downfall had begun, and this was a fall off a cliff deeper than Eric could have imagined.

Eric had never met a girl like Gina. She was not a prostitute like he had thought, but she loved sex. There was not a lot of talk between them, just a lot of sex. Gina was the perfect girl for Eric.

Gina didn't tell Eric where she lived, what she did for a living, or even her phone number. Gina said almost nothing about herself. Their relationship was all about sex, and Gina took charge, directing Eric like maestro. After their first dinner, where Eric did all the talking, they went back to Eric's condo. He handed Gina a glass of wine as he sat back on the couch. Gina set the wine down, unzipped Eric's pants and promptly gave him the best blowjob he'd ever had. Not a word was spoken; she got straight to the deed. When Eric came, Gina leaned, back licked her lips, and swallowed. "That was good, the perfect after-dinner aperitif. I have to go now. I'll call you in a few days." Eric was drained; he just lay back on the couch and watched this amazing woman walk away.

Gina took Eric's number but didn't give Eric any way to contact her, and she didn't call. After two weeks, Eric thought the beautiful mysterious woman was gone. When she finally did call, Eric stumbled over his tongue in his anxiety to see her again. Gina had Eric primed. Then the serious sex started; Gina fucked his brains out. In a few weeks, Gina was living with Eric.

At work, Ashley assigned Eric a newly hired secretary to replace Shyanne, the voluptuous young Maria. She was not too bright and not at all discreet, and so Eric couldn't let her take on Shyanne's work. Therefore, Eric had to work twice as hard, but Maria had her up side. She was sexy, flirtatious, and oh so proud of her massive tits. She wore tight knit sweaters that clung to her big breasts, or dresses deeply cut to show off her jiggling cleavage as she flounced around the office, gossiping with anyone, and doing absolutely no work. Maria took every occasion to swing her heavy breasts in Eric's face. Maria was very hot in her bovine way, she knew it, and she liked to show off. Eric enjoyed the show, but he was getting all the sex he could handle at home with Gina. Maria was just a delightful amusement, keeping him turned on until he went home to Gina.

Sex with Gina kept getting better and crazier, but always on Gina's terms. Soon Eric was the one going down. Gina instructed Eric in the art of pussy sucking and lavishly praised her student. Eric was eating it up. Soon Eric was going down on Gina every day, then twice, sometimes three times a day.

Gina made Eric crawl down between her legs to wake her every morning. Gina said she needed his tongue to start her day off right and get her creative juices flowing. Eric's duty was to wake Gina with a gentle transition from her dream world to the harsh light of day. And so Eric went down each morning, starting with soft kisses on Gina's upper thighs, or, if her back was turned toward him, the lightest lapping, hardly more than a breath, on the perfect ass that so obsessed him. With a sleepy turn, Gina would open her thighs. Half asleep, Gina directed her pupil with subtle touches and supple shifts of her lovely body. Only when invited by a delicate intimation, a slight body language hint of permission, would Eric carefully proceed to insinuate his face into the heart of his infatuation, the cocooned haven within the furrow of Gina's thighs.

Swathed in Gina's skin, smells, and warmth, Eric cautiously opened her labia with a light message of the tip of his tongue and savored the day's first taste of his love. An insubstantial shift of a leg or a faint sigh invited Eric to begin a tender tongue kneading of Gina's clit. Slowly, and only as bidden by Gina's half-conscious instructions, Eric wheedled his way down to the source of Gina's pungent warmth, the font of Eric's obsession, his love's slit, his feeding trough. Eric's face slipped into the slick pool.

And so Eric cajoled his way into Gina's early morning sex dreams and escorted his love toward the waking world. The fluid mists of Gina's dreams crystallized to waking schemes like frost setting on night flowers. As desire gathered, Gina's directions turned firm, insistent. Gina's clit heated and her fingers joined in. Eric ministrations in the hole below evolved toward vigorous tongue fucking. With the crescendo of climax, Gina awoke. The heat of morning sex sublimed her frosty dream-plots into clouds of intrigue blowing into the winds of the coming day's battles. Eric smiled at his success, his face in the damp sheets breathing Gina's odors as he slipped back toward sleep. Gina then ordered coffee with a sharp jab of her heel.

Morning rites done, Gina would send Eric off to work unfulfilled, love raging.

Soon Gina added a new twist. After he had showered and dressed for work, Gina made Eric go down one more time at the front door, fully clothed. Gina would walk Eric to the door and nonchalantly open her gown bidding Eric to perform one more time. She admonished caution so that her coffee would not spill. Eric struggled to get his nose in it.

Gina opened her legs slightly to accommodate his efforts, all the while circumspectly balancing her coffee. If Gina was not satisfied with Eric's effort, or if turned on enough to want another thorough tongue fucking, she would set her coffee aside, order Eric to lie on the floor at the door, squat above his head, and smear copious gobs of pussy juice all over his face. Then she sent him off to work. Gina ordered Eric not to wash it off; she called it putting on a good face for the world. Eric loved the whole crazy show, but Eric did not understand how thoroughly trapped he was. Eric was going down.

At Her Boot (chapter 3)

Down on all fours like a dog at her boot I played Gina's servile pet and indulged an overpowering craving to humiliate myself before my love. I eagerly struggled to obey her command to suck her boot. I selfishly wallowed in my need.

Gina sat with her legs crossed and cavalierly flicked her boot into my face. Gina snickered at my ineffectual efforts, but there was no cheer in that laugh. Her mood was irate and dark. ...continued

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