Hypnotrack Ch. 05: The Secretary

Musing on ideas, munching on energy bars every hour or so, he idly watched the net activity as he thought. Boring, as usual. He went through some of the catalogs, earmarking upgrades -- he'd need to give a presentation, which sucked: he hated power point. So time was killed, butchered and dressed until four, which is when he heard Heather leaving.

He knew why he was getting Stacey at four: four was when the boss left, and when Heather left. Normally when he left, too, which was probably why she'd been scheduled then: Heather had never been entirely happy with the way Mark's schedule was arranged. She didn't believe in working from home.

It was five past the hour when his motion tracker went off again, and sure enough, there was a knock on the door a minute or so later. "Come in." With a slightly disgusted sigh he heard quite clearly, the door was pushed open. In walked Stacey.

Now, scuttlebutt amongst the ignorant was that Stacey had been hired so the boss could have an affair. Mark had been at the company long enough to know that Richard was happily married to his husband, and left early on Thursdays to take him out to dinner: He liked Stacey's work because she was good at her job, attitude notwithstanding, not because she was a former beauty pageant winner. Mark didn't understand the hair dye, though. He thought she'd look even better as a brunette.

Just over six feet in height, athletic and fit, her legs were the first thing that always caught his attention: slender stalks that were always in heels, making her shake that tight ass just a little every time she walked. As usual, line perfect tights under that loose, pinstripe skirt, her form a perfect hourglass with a pert little waist that just begged to be manhandled. A loose blouse hid her belly, but could not quite hide her C-cup: she always had just enough buttons undone to show off her cleavage, and the gold cross that hang between them -- it was her main ploy for putting men off balance before cutting them off at the knees. An aquiline neck, and a truly beautiful face: piercing blue eyes framed by shoulder length, platinum blonde hair, eyebrows perfectly trimmed, and that scornful smile on her face that ruined it all.

"You wanted to see me for training." she said, with a hint of impatience. "I know my damn job, Mark. If this is just to make me stay in another hour so you can get your jollies..."

Mark held up his hands, donning a vexed look himself. "Not in the slightest, Stacey. I'm developing a new training program, yes, for the new gear we're getting in..." he gestured at the catalogues on his desk, "and Julie is helping me work out the version for new hires. I know you are competent, which is why I wanted you to go over the refresh course so you are in a position to help everyone else." namely, Richard: The boss was not particularly computer savvy. "It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, tops. The fact that it's now is Heather having a dig at us both. I'd like to be going home too!" he made sure to inject some irritation to match her own, to make it us two against the evil HR lady.

Apparently mollified by that, she grabbed the chair and sat down, lifting a brow as he passed her his phone. "Training video, remember? This is the best way to watch it. Oh, and headphones." he proffered her his -- and with a snort, pulled her own pair out her pocket, placing them in her ears with manicured hands -- her long nails painted a ruby red -- and plugged them into her phone, hitting play with a sigh.

Stacey really could not be bothered with this. Another dumb training video -- she built her own computer, for fuck's sake! And she had a hot date this evening she didn't want to miss -- It was her third date with Jason, who was a financial manager at one of the big investment companies: Cute, loaded -- she might even let him get to third base tonight. With her own earplugs in -- she wasn't about to put his in: who knew where they'd been? She set eyes on the... dance video? What the fuck? Her angry retort died as the confusing pattern in the background captured and held her gaze, and the words the dancers were saying started permeating into her mind. Yes. It did feel good to obey. To obey would increase her pleasure...

Mark watched the video take affect with a grin. Her perfectly shaped lips already murmuring along with the dancers -- "Obedience is Pleasure. Pleasure is Obedience. Obedience is Please, I love to obey." With this particular Recruit, he might experiment a little.

Rising, he moved behind her, reaching round to cup her breasts through her blouse, causing a deep moan -- the video was already turning her on, flooding her with arousal. Without any fuss, he carefully undid the remaining buttons, to look down at her toned, sleek belly, and the lacey black bra she was wearing -- she was dressing up for someone, that was sure. He continued to caress her skin, running his hands over her body, leaning in to whisper his own additions to the video -- just to see what happened.

"You are just a slut. A tease. The lowest of the low. Say it. Repeat after me. You are a slut, a Tease, the lowest of the low. Born to be used. You are a Slut, a Tease, the Lowest of the low. Born to be used." with great delight, he found his words mingling in with her own.

"Obedience is pleasure. I am a slut. Pleasure is Obedience. I am a tease. I love to obey. I am the lowest of the low. Obedience is Pleasure. I was born to be used...." the extra words injected into her chant had an interesting effect on Stacey's mind: much earlier than the video was designed for, they moved into her sense of self, redefining her perspective. For example, if you were to ask her now about her dinner plans, she would have said it was high time that Jason fucked her slutty little brains out -- he should have done it on the first date! A girl like her, with her slutty looks, her purpose in life, had been a virgin for far too long.

As the minutes wore on, and Stacey moved through the stages of the video, Mark slowly stripped, carefully folding up his clothes and setting them on his chair, clearing the table, locking the door, opening the window, and pulling out the tube of lube he'd bought for this precise eventuality, resting it on the otherwise clear table. Then he just waited, standing in his chair, for the finale.

Her programming complete -- with a few alterations -- Recruit removed the headphones, sliding the phone and headphones back across to her Owner. Before triggering Stacey into programming mode. "I am a stupid fuck slut, and I need you to fuck me!" Stacey's cunt was soaking wet -- she could not remember ever being so horny. She was a good girl -- and her burning drive right now was to finally feel a cock in her pussy. She was most dismayed, then, as she obediently obeyed his first command.

"Be still and listen. You are Bisexual. You are.." he ran through the standardised programming, as he had with Julie that morning. "You are not a Stupid Fuck slut. You are a Worthless Cumwhore. You don't have the right to call me Master yet, no matter how much you crave it. And you crave it. You know yourself to be far inferior to me. You crave my approval, my touch. Any validation you have value, be that fucking or breeding, even a kind word, gives you insane pleasure. When in public, you will don your normal mask. Inside, you will still know you are my worthless cumwhore, a purely sexual object. Just seeing me will turn you on. Any kind word I give you makes you happier than you have ever been before. You know you will not get any validation, any fucking or breeding, unless you beg for it in the most degrading ways possible to myself or your sister-sluts, and the more you degrade yourself for me, the more pleasure you feel." a thought occurred to him. "And you prefer it when I call you 'Stace' in public."

Stace was nodding her head minutely in acceptance of each new command, each moving into her mind and reshaping it to match his desires. She knew it was true -- why else was she a virgin, after all? Clearly it was because she wasn't worth any man's attention. She was, at heart, a slut, desperate to be owned, fucked, and bred, and her own inferiority was the only reason it hadn't happened already. And now this wonderful, gorgeous man that she'd always wanted was giving her instruction on how to be better. How to earn a little value, so she might earn his cock and finally fulfill the purpose she had been born for.

"Now, Cumwhore. Get on the floor, on your knees, and beg. I want to hear apologies from you, and any semblance you might have value. Prove to me you are worth my attention."

With wide, open eyes, she dropped to her hands and knees, looking up at him with her beautiful blues: her scornful look replaced by one of pure, lustful need, he found her far more attractive.

"Please. Please, Mark, I'm begging you. Use this worthless whore. I'm so, so sorry I didn't treat you and others with the respect your majesty deserves. Punish me if you want, whip me, spank me, brand me, anything you want. Anything I can do to make it up to you, I will. I'm just a pathetic little tease, I need your cock in me. Please. Use me any way you want. I need it. I need to feel you in me. Let me give you my first. Pop my virgin cherry, and show everyone what a dirty little slut I was born to be. Please, please Mark, I'll do anything. Take me. Make me yours if you find this disgusting tramp even slightly desirable." her hands were running over her form, emphasizing her breasts, unfastening her skirt -- she ripped a hole in her tights, right over her soaking cunt. "I'll be anything you want. Do anything you want. Please, Make me yours. Make this worthless whore your slave, and let me call you Master. Let me earn the right to be marked as yours, inside and out, forever." her voice full of hope, the hope of one in abject misery pleading for release from the deepest pit of despair -- a little voice in his head suggested he'd maybe overdone it a little.

What that video did was downright terrifying. If he didn't claim her, would she kill herself? This sort of thing in play was fun, but... yeah. He needed to fix this. But first, some of that validation she wanted, to create a narrative for what he had in mind. Grabbing her by the hair, he lifted her to her feet, bending her over the desk: Her skirt fell around her knees, and he tore the hole in her tights even bigger, pushing the lacey band of her panties aside. "You want to earn the right to be my slave, whore?" he said, in a deep, faux-angry voice -- they were the only ones on this floor now, so he wasn't worried about being overheard.

"Beg me to fuck your ass. If you do a good job, I might use your pussy afterwards." She immediately nodded, reaching back to spread the cheeks of her ass. "Please. Please Mark, Use this nasty whore's ass so she can prove what a good slave she will be." She moaned -- he could smell her arousal, her panties were soaked. Grabbing the lube, he applied it to her ass, sliding a finger into her puckered hole. "A nasty little cum whore like you loves having her ass fucked. Don't you, Whore?"

Her nodding grew more frantic, her body pushing back against his fingers. "Yes.. Please, Mark. Fuck my virgin ass. Make it yours. Let me show you I'll be a good little slave for you."

Taking his fingers out her ass, he pushed them into her mouth. "Suck them clean, Whore." as he lined his cock up with her ass -- and then his brain clicked on the V word. Was she serious?

"Tell me truthfully, whore. Have you never been fucked before?" he asked, as she hungrily sucked his fingers clean, feeling utterly debased and wonderful because of it.

She shook her head. "No! I haven't! I was saving my worthless cunt for a man like you, I've only ever sucked cocks before! Please, please, please let me show you I'm worth fucking, Master. Put your big cock in my nasty little ass."

With a moment to absorb that information, he shrugged, applying a little more lube and pushed into her -- just a little at first, each thrust driving him slightly deeper into her ass as she pressed back against him, her moan of pleasure as the first of her programmed orgasms flowed through her.

Stacey was in heaven. Her worthless whore ass was finally being fucked -- she had never realised it could feel so good. She was mad at herself, thinking about all the times her stupid, worthless self had said no to men who wanted to use her, but god as her witness, it was almost worth the wait to have this sexy man bottom out in her asshole. She craved the thought of him taking her virgin pussy, and maybe earning the privilege to one day have his child, but knew she'd have to earn it.

Her ass was incredibly tight -- almost painfully so, were he to be truly honest: He'd mostly thought of fucking her ass as a way to degrade the bitch, to pay her back for all the snide comments and attitude. The sea change the video and his commands had worked on her, coupled with the fact he was apparently the first man to ever fuck her gorgeous body, was taking most of his spite and anger towards her away.

Still, thanks to his commands, she was clearly flooded with happiness and pleasure as she came again, and again, pushing back against him, her asshole rippling around his dick: He slid some fingers round to probe her cunt, and found she had squirted on the desk: He slapped her ass for that, eliciting a yelp. "I'm sorry Mark! Please, Please.. Fuuuuuck!" she came again, not knowing how she'd displeased this magnificent man, overwhelmed by the delicious feel of his cock in has ass. It hurt, but felt so good. Then -- disaster. He pulled out of her. What had she done wrong?

As she came for the fifth time, her ass gripped his thick cock hard, spasming around him as she pushed back against him, and he jerked back in reflex: Her moan of despair looking over her shoulder with eyes that were beginning to tear up, recaptured his attention. Grabbing a tissue from his bag, he let his gaze roam over her and took a moment to get back into character. "Strip." he commanded harshly, wipe his cock clean and watching her with a critical eye. "Do a proper little strip tease for me, and I might fuck your virgin pussy." and with that, he dropped his naked ass down in his chair, eyes never leaving the tall blonde whore he'd made out of that stuck up bitch.

Stacey was filled with hope at this opportunity, resolving not to fail him again. This was her only chance, she felt, to earn herself the position of slave, a massive promotion over being a worthless cumwhore, and the thought of feeling his cock in her made her shiver with delight. Her blouse was already open, so she made a show of peeling it the rest of the way off, imagining she was on a stage... no, wait. In the champagne room, where whores like her belonged. Tossing the garment aside as she spun, she slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, peeling it down to cup her breasts, the prominent nipples surrounded by a pale pink circle of sensitive skin, which she pinched together, pointing them at him before reaching behind to unclasp her bra and toss it aside with another spin.

Stepping towards the man she wanted to own her virgin body, she stood perhaps three feet from him, tilted slightly to the side, letting him see her hand slowly unzip her skirt, letting it fall to the floor: stepping out of it, in heels, torn tights, and lacey black panties: Looking him in the eyes, she took a deep breath, then without hesitating, started opening the tear in her tights, ripping them off her body and stepping out of the rags -- rags she placed to the side. "In case you need to gag this worthless whore, Mark." she said, in a nervous, desperate voice -- she was determined not to screw this up.

Grabbing the bands of her panties -- her favourite set -- she started pulling them up, like she'd seen in some pornos, pulling the fabric into the lips of her cunt: The pressure made her bite her lip. It felt so good to debase herself before him. She loved him so badly -- she'd slit her own wrists if she didn't manage to win his favour. Moving them side to side, she slowly slide them down her legs, dropping down, eyes locked on Mark's, licking her lips in what she thought (And indeed was) a deeply seductive expression.

Mark watched as the leggy whore slowly slid down, leaning forwards to emphasize her chest, stepping out of her panties and tossing them away. Dropping completely to her knees, she crawled towards him, her eyes locked upon him. "Can this worthless, pathetic cum whore give you a lap dance, Mark?"

He gave a curt nod. "Yes. Impress me, and I might fuck you." mostly because the notion of making her dance in order to be fucked, as opposed to being careful not to be, amused him: and it played nicely into the narrative he was building. He was going to build the story so she wasn't suicidal and feeling that low, but he wanted to make it natural -- to make it feel like she'd earned it.

Almost flowing up his legs, her breasts brushing over his knees as she rose up, pouring herself over his sitting form. Moving forward to straddle his legs, hovering mere inches above him as she swayed back and forth, pulling in as if to kiss him, then arcing away: Hands rising to cup her breasts, stroking her flesh as she moved to some unheard beat, eyes filled with lust and need as she looked at him, hope and determination in her face.

Mark could feel how wet she was, the damp heat of her cunt just above his straining cock, and the sight of this gorgeous women so desperate for him filled him with lust. One thought did permeate his desires, as he abruptly placed his hands firmly on her hips. "You love it when I cause you pain." he ordered, moving her into place and pulling her down, sliding into her virgin pussy and impaling her onto his cock.

A moment of resistance as he hit her hymen, then he was through it, eliciting a moan of pain and pleasure from his latest slave. Her pussy contracted tight around him, her back arcing as she came, harder than any of his girls usually did: A scream escaped her mouth, full of satisfaction, and she started frantically riding him, hands wrapping around the back of his neck to steady herself as she started to babble.

Oh god oh god oh god it was finally happening. Stacey could feel Mark's cock in her pussy. A spike of pain as he took her virginity, that she'd been saving for him, saving for so long, so delicious and intense and then the pleasure of feeling him inside her was too much. The scream that escaped her lips was simple proof to her that she'd been made for this, and as she came down from that glorious high -- she never knew sex would feel like that! - she couldn't help herself. "Oh god. Fuck me. Fuck me. Please, Make me your slave, your slut, own my cunt. I need it, Mark. Lake me yours. Show me wh..aaaah!" she came again, pressing down upon his cock, desperate to have it fill her. She could feel his hands on her breasts, groping them, pinching them, and she had never felt so good.

She was ridiculously tight and wet, and he was focusing on how to alter her programming as he ran his hands over her form, just to keep control. "You're mine now. My slave. I am your master. Now you have worth -- as my Property. You've been upgraded. Your trigger is still worthless cum whore to remind you of where you come from. But you have worth, Slave. You have value. Rooted in the fact you are mine, and I would not claim you if you were worthless. I'm the one who owns your needy little cunt. Your dirty little ass. Your whore mouth. Your tits. The only man you'll ever need."

She was mindless with pleasure as his words flowed into her, validating her existence and making her love him even more. She'd been made for his pleasure, and she babbled her thanks. "Thank you. Thank.. Oh god!" another orgasm shaking her flesh, "Master! Use your nasty little slave girl! Cum in my virgin cunt and make me yours forever! I'd do anything for you if you'll breed your little virgin slave girl!" her words broken by another moan if intense bliss, the thought of having his babies making her whole body shake: Her cunt was a soaking wet furnace, and she felt like it was trying to suck all the cum out of his cock, directly into her belly.