Poor Lymie Realizes Her Value

"It's just not a good time, right now Dutch." Lymie tried to smile professionally at Dutch Diesel, her roommate and occasional you-know-what.

Lymie looked very professional, though her boobs did push out the angora sweater to flattering proportions.

Lymie was Head of Public Administration here in Buttermilk Falls, and had her own secretary, even now that administration was scarce.

Lymie was quite full of herself. But she didn't really need her blue-collar tenant bothering her just now.

He really was supposed to be looking for job.

Still, her eyes roamed his swarthy, tattooed arms.

Just the other night Dutch had thrashed Lymie's pear shaped breasts with a broken pool cue, and she'd almost cum (but that damn labial piercing!) watching his biceps sweat...the cobra dancing as he meted out the brutal correction!

Dutch had some intense ink, and he always displayed them in wife-beater t-shirts, or sleeveless denim vests with biker patches on the back.

"Lymie. I found a pack of cigarettes in your bedroom, dear." Dutch smiled and cocked his head.

Lymie, a beneficiary of great dentists and orthodontists since early childhood, was initially horrified and somewhat repelled by Dutch's misshapen yellow snags.

And the fact that there were more than a few gaps in his smile.

But now, in her fear, she just wanted him to kiss her.

"I-I know, Dutch." she faltered. "I am trying to quit smoking for good--"

"And especially smoking in the house, right?"

Dutch smiled again, and idly spat a stream of chewing tobacco (different standards for different tenants, eh?) towards the wastebasket.

"Y-yes. But I've been under a lot of stress."

"We just know that's an excuse. I recall when you gained a pound last week, I was able to get you exercising again, wasn't I?

The frat paddle on your butt as you ran on the treadmill?"

Lymie flushed and hoped that her secretary, a gum-popping contemptuous mall rat, couldn't hear this.

Dutch had mesmerized Lymie's previous assistant, and Lymie had found it difficult to work with Cheryl after she'd been forced to service Cheryl's vagina in Dutch's bed.

Apparently she hadn't licked enough semen out of Cheryl's twat, because the silly bitch had gotten pregnant and left town, thank goodness!

But oh, the hilarity in her typist's eye during those painful weeks before Cheryl departed.

Had she told the girls in the powder room that she'd spanked the boss's ass, whipping the administrator until she'd wept?

Lymie didn't want that to happen again. But clearly she was in trouble here.

Sure, it was arousing when she was punished by Dutch back home.

The humiliation of the whole thing when she'd been briefly exposed at the office had been grist for her wank bank.

But Lymie had a career here. She had to stand firm. She had to explain to Dutch that he wasn't the be-all, end-all of Lymie's complicated life.

Lymie's Inner Child therapist had tried to break Lymie of her Dutch addiction.

"Lymie, you are a Smith College grad for God's sakes! It's bad enough that you stayed in this loser burg. Buttermilk Falls is such a shithole, and Dutch Diesel is its most grotesque citizen!"

Dr. Threadgill had been a no-nonsense Tough Love counselor, or so they'd thought.

But he wasn't that, or even a committed heterosexual, apparently.

Dutch had come in for a group session, he'd ended up whipping the doc's bare ass and making Threadgill suck him off as Lymie wept in the corner.

But now Lymie had to do something. Clearly, he was thinking about the wooden paddle that he had her keep in her desk drawer.

Would he make her unsnap her skirt, pull down her pantyhose, and expose her bare bottom to him, lying across his lap and trying not to scream as he swung the paddle again and again?

The last time he'd done this, he'd had Lymie suck a pair of Cheryl's soiled panties to keep from screaming and embarrassing herself in front of the entire office.

God, these trashy girls often wore their underwear two or three times before washing, the musk had been awful, but yes, arousing.

Afterwards Lymie had sucked Dutch's cock, and they'd both enjoyed this, basking in her humiliation as she'd knelt, trying not to touch her sore butt against her heels.

Lymie wondered if she might distract Dutch by sucking him off now. Maybe if he blew his load down her throat, he might forget about the spanking, at least until tonight.

She had meetings all afternoon, and a presentation at three. She couldn't be discombobulated with teary eyes, and having to walk stiffly because her hips were on fire.

But she had to be diplomatic with Dutch--recently he'd pierced her labia and locked it shut, and he wouldn't release her for a fucking unless he was in a good mood.

"I have a proposition." Lymie said winsomely. "Why don't I give you some oral service as penance for my tobacco crime."

Dutch was always vaguely amused when Lymie tried to be cute.

"I'll get up and lock the door, and then I'll come over here and relieve some of that tension."

"You know, your receptionist offered to blow me in the women's john, and she is much younger and more supple than you, Lymie, my dear."

Lymie flushed. She tried not to grit her teeth.

"I mean, all those lines under your eyes, it's really quite sad. Rhonda has this dewy--"

"I'll make you forget Rhonda." Lymie said, trying hard to smile. She got out from behind her desk and went to lock the door, hoping that she wouldn't be bothered.

And of course, being loser government employees, her staff was thrilled that Lymie wasn't making them do anything.

God, should I get a face-lift? Botox? I am forty-six, and I guess I look every day of it.

But she came to Dutch, and pushed his chair back, and unbuttoned her shirt a bit, just to show a hint of cleavage, and then dropped to her knees.

Lymie was good at giving head. She'd had a Master back in '03 who had trained her by pouring syrup all over his cock and making her clean it for hours, and now she had rare talent.

Not that Dutch would admit this. But he always looked vaguely enthusiastic when she took his penis into her full lips, as she was doing now.

His jeans unzipped, Lymie began slurping and sucking Dutch's schlong and he began to moan in a low tone.

I'll fire that damn receptionist if the bureaucracy allows it, thought Lymie as she sucked away.

Lymie used her tongue to travel along the underside of Dutch's cock, and suddenly she felt him grabbing her ears.

Oh shit, here it comes, she thought.

In the aftermath, Lymie was excited by the sadism of a skull-fucking, and she didn't choke as much as she once had, but it was quite a sensation!

In and out Dutch slammed his half-smoke sized wiener, and then, after he'd cum, almost knocking her head off, he held her ears for a moment more, and emptied his bladder.

This was very hard for Lymie. But she'd learned to not spill a drop. She didn't want a slap from Dutch, who wore a lot of those skull rings.

She tried desperately not to cough as the bitter waste liquid rolled down her throat.

After it was over, she got up and re-adjusted her face, squinting miserably in the little make-up compact.

Oh good, he's unlocking the door. No discipline for today!

But...there's Rhonda!

"I just don't have the energy since I had my pipes cleaned, hon. But here's my leather belt. You want to give your supervisor the what for?"