Power of Attorney

Power of Attorney

(F/F, domination, humiliation)

by Kristina Katyn & Cowgirl

(Copyright Nov. 2002, Kristina Katyn and Cowgirl.)

My name's Jennifer Corbitt, and it all started with...Kristina.

See, I have a weakness for intelligence, and I hired this cute new secretary, Kristina. I had hired bright girls before, with varying degrees of success. Kristina was the latest. I liked to encourage keen secretaries and I thought this one might even eventually work her way up to be a paralegal in the firm I work for.

***

Nice girl, sharp as a whip. Went through several dimwits before I could find one who could stand the heat. At 27, I'm one of the *youngest* women to make partner, and though I'm not a total bitch, I don't, or can't, suffer fools gladly. You don't get ahead by showing *any* weakness in the legal business, and if your secretary drops the ball, it's *your* ass, not hers. Though any secretary is generally clueless as to the complexities of what we lawyers deal with on a day-to-day basis.

It's like a partnership of sorts. A marriage, if you will. I'll eventually rely on her for everything, if she's good! And Kristina (or Krissy, as I sometimes call her when I want to remind her who's boss - silly name though, I prefer Kristina) seems to understand this, and how important to me her position is. Oh, sure, nobody likes being a stupid little secretary at first, but she's resigned to it or she wouldn't have *jumped* at the chance like she did. That's why she makes an excellent subordinate. Okay, I'll admit to some naughty temptations. I'm guilty. But it's, well, it's just a game really. Besides, she likes to play it. Actually I'm lying. She fucking hates it, but that's half the fun: deliberately testing my little Kristina by requesting she do all sorts of menial things *outside* her job description.

Just to SEE if she will.

How far she'll willingly be pushed. I can't describe what it does to me, seeing her face try and hide her anger, her indignation!

Oh, I know, it may sound tame. But seeing her pause in silent embarrassment and anger about something we both know is TOTALLY out of line for me to ask, *affects* me so, well, personally. Affects is an evasive word. I just find her resistance so damned Provocative and hypnotic!

It really is the high point of my day! I've rarely met another woman whose buttons were so much fun to push as this new reserved girl in sensible shoes and modest skirts. The word 'rush' doesn't even begin to describe how intoxicating and giddy I feel from the battle of wills just beneath the surface lurking in her unwilling silence - and eventually her shrug of agreement to whatever stupid chore I've requested.

I'm guilty. But it's, well, it's just a game really. Besides, she likes to play it. Actually I'm lying.

She fucking hates it.

But who cares? I'm excited by moulding her into someone I can use. I only get cruel when I feel that weak silly side of her that needs CRUSHING out. And, despite her pouty looks, dancing defiant flicker in her green eyes, her supple firm body arching as she swallows hard, lifts her porcelain chin, boldly meeting my gaze, responding to this treatment, thriving on it.

***

"Kristina, what are you doing?" I snapped from behind my desk.

"I'm typing the Stevens contracts...Didn't you want them...ASAP?" She answered in a rush of words.

"Kristina, honey, those can wait. You've got to learn to *prioritize* dear. Now, stop that sillyness and hurry on in here...pronto!" I tossed my hair back defiantly. She quickly scurried into my office licking her pale lips nervously.

"OK. Completely clean up my office. Start by reorganizing the filing shelves; this includes...." I paused, eyebrow arched as if to look for her missing notepad.

"Oh, sorry Jennifer." She panicked, fetching it over lighting fast and was standing at my side seconds later. An electric shudder reverberated through me at her alertness.

"I'm gonna glue that thing to you one of these days... It should be ingrained by now... "

"Oh, Yes ma'am." She managed through stiff lips.

"Okay, where were we? Reorganize the shelves. Start by taking all the files out one by one, dust each one, sponge-clean the shelves, check each file and make sure that any loose pieces of paper are inserted..."

"Jennifer...that's a lot of...I mean, there must be...hundreds of..." I savored her staring blankly, mouth open slackly.

"...thousands of pieces of paper, actually, but it's OK. You can stay late." My eyebrow raised in amused contempt, her lips pursing, cheeks scarlet as I rolled on. "

...So, make sure each one is hole-punched and inserted in date order. And do the same with all the files piled up on my floor. You can borrow a vacuum cleaner from the janitorial staff and vacuum up every last little bit of dust and junk on the floor. Any questions?"

"I'm sorry Jennifer. I'm not being difficult, but...I'll never make it...even if I work all night..."

"Well, you *could* stay after work for the next three nights, from, say, 6.00pm to 4.00am? That gives you from 4.00am till 8.00am sleep time. Four hours is plenty! I want this office spotless, and I think it reflects on you you're asking for extra time..."

Her brows drew together in an angry frown. I can't describe the sweet anticipation that floods through me, drinking in her chin in a stubborn line, poorly hiding her anger, her indignation.

Her self-hatred for even considering such a crazy request.

"Kristina, I want you to go walk over so you're facing those files. Just do as I say, right now." My voice courteous, but patronizing.

"Huh?"

"You heard me...go stand face to face with those messy files. Don't stop till you're three feet away from them.

She indignantly shifted from foot to foot as she made her way across my carpet, to stand with her back to me, facing the wall of files.

"Good. Now, bend over, at the waist, until that cute little nose of yours is a few inches from the third row of shelves..."

I couldn't see her face, but her body stiffened, and I could feel her uncertainty, fear, and petulance.

But she did as I said, her full delicious little round bottom making a 'heart' before my wondering gaze.

"Jennifer? What's this about?"

"Does your boss's shelf look sparkling clean Kristina? Does it?"

"No...it's dusty, like you said" Her words came flat, burning with humiliation over the obvious point I was making. "Can I stand up now? My legs are..."

"Yes, I taunted. I can see that. NO dear, just stay there for now...Kristina, I want you to, study that dirt. Look at it. Get to *know* it. Dirt may seem repugnant to you, but it's something someone in your position must acknowledge. We both know you think you're better than this, don't we?"

"Dirt? No ma'am, I don't think..."

"Oh, don't deny it dear. You think you're above cleaning your boss's office, getting on your knees, soiling yourself...don't you?"

"If you say so ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am. I'm not your mother Kristina, or should I call you Krissy? Are you just a little girl now? Is that why you keep calling me ma'am? Looking for a momma you can cry too, are we princess?"

Kristina said nothing, but I could hear...

...little sobs escape her parted lips

...as I watched her cute ass in the air as she stood there bent perfectly at the waist in silent shame.

"OK Krissy, stare at your new friend 'the dirt', and when you two make friends, you come back out of my office."

"How long ma'am. I mean, Jennifer...should I...look at it?"

Her question surprised me, the word 'rush' not even beginning to describe how intoxicating and giddy I felt from the battle of wills just beneath the surface lurking in her unwilling silence - and eventually her shrug of agreement to this stupid chore I had requested.

"How long do you *think* is appropiate Krissy, huh?"

"Till I learn my lesson?"

"...That's not exactly a specific amount of time now, is it dear? How long do YOU believe it will take for you to 'learn your lesson'?"

"...Half an hour...?"

Wow! I didn't think she'd stay there that long - five minutes tops I had thought! This was turning into the high point of my day! I've never met another woman whose buttons were so much fun to push as this new, reserved girl in conservative shoes and polite skirts.

"Are you asking? or suggesting?...Take the initative Krissy."

"I'd like to suggest half an hour Jennifer." She managed through clenched teeth. I could feel her legs were already screaming from the angle, her lower back sweating as she smothered a groan.

"You're sure about that?" There was intensity in my lowered voice.

"Yes..." She quietly managed.

I walked down to get some lunch, images of her, the poor aroused, suffering girl swirling through my mind, and it was all I could do to rush through my sandwich and force myself to 'casually waltz' back in, catching her standing there...

"It's been over a half hour Kristina." I chirped musically, as she slowly stood back up, her legs quivering from probably falling asleep in that lewd position.

"Thanks ma'am..."

I burst our laughing as she turned, and she got a perturbed frown on her face, checking her nose in her compact and seeing a comical little 'dust mark' kissing the end of her nose, something like a clown!

"Well, I guess you two really DID get to know each other, huh?" I teased mercilessly, as her eyes danced angrily, hands clenched, teeth grinding together at my mirth.

"...Of course, cleaning offices is really a privilege! Rubbing your nose in my dirt doesn't guarantee your worth, does it? Why, when *I* started at the firm I could have reorganized twice this size room in a single day... So if you're not up to it..." I shrugged, my mouth twisted in implied threat.

"Wait, I'm fine. I promise! And, sorry to complain, Jennifer. It's fine. And I can work this evening, I can move things around..." she said, wiping her nose, her face flushed.

"Move things around? Listen to yoooou. Honestly...Kristina, you're 21. What have *you* got to 'move around', except that sweet little tushy of yours?" I smirked.

Kristina managed a tremulous, embarrassed shrug, unable to face my mocking smirk as I caressed her arm in the office. It seemed to make her wince whenever she caught me appraising her figure, or lightly brushed up against her shoulder or arm, as I was freely doing now, directing her gaze to the floor, as I sat down to work.

Seeing her pause in silent embarrassment and anger about something we both know is TOTALLY capricious.

Kristina's willingness to not only smear her own nose in my dirty office, but to suggest her own punishment time kept floating through me in sensual waves of heat and shame. Her conflicted expressions of hurt and anger at my thinking so little of her was a priceless gift that'll nourish my restless body through the day. Just ignoring her as she's scrambling to get all this work done right next to me sends little chills through me.

The odd part is, I know deep inside she's trying, struggling for the courage, strength and self-confidence to get fed up and tell me to piss off and quit. To say, "No, I WON'T... How dare you ask me!"

But we both know she won't.

***

One afternoon, I told her about an important meeting I had with a potential new client the next morning. This middle-aged corporate executive was well-known to have an eye for attractive, available girls, and Kristina was attractive, but certainly didn't have that available look. She dressed too...sensibly.

"Kristina", I explained, "if we can get this guy's legal business, or even part of it, it will make a huge difference to the firm" (ie. my remuneration package) "AND to your year-end bonus" (yeah sure - like 250 dollars instead of 200!).

"So, please would you dress more...temptingly tomorrow."

"Temptingly? What do you mean Jennifer?!"

"Kristina, you know what men are like. They get a thrill seeing a bit of leg, a glimpse of underwear, the outline of a bra. They love a bit of eye contact, the possibility that something might happen. They're like naughty children."

"But, I've heard Mr. Croker is married with three kids. He won't be intererested in that sort of thing!"

"Krissy, Let me be the judge of that."

"Jennifer, surely my job description does not include...exposing...myself to clients. And you know I'm not that sort of woman...I'm shy with men anyway and Mr. Croker is old enough to be my father."

"It remains to be seen what sort of woman you are... Don't question me Krissy. Your precious job description, if it were written down...which it isn't, includes helping me with anything conducive to furthering the firm's business. And if that necessitates wearing a particular outfit to help me, you WILL wear it! Won't you...Krissy?

...Unless of course you'd rather switch to a janitor's job and wear a nylon housecoat over second hand clothes. There's a vacancy, I understand.

We are trying to make money here, Krissy, not run a convent.

...So, do you have any sexier clothes than your rather...sensible usual outfits?"

Kristina looked at me with an expression deep inside her eyes, as if she were thinking, "But you can't turn me into a sex object for your clients...But maybe it is for the good of the firm... But...it can't be expected, it can't be...normal... "

...But she replied,

"I,...I really don't have any... sexy...clothes Jennifer. I always dress pretty conservatively, I guess."

"Look, Krissy, go out and buy one of those extra-short, swirly mini-skirts which the kids are wearing at the moment. And...do you have any transparent panties?"

"Jennifer! What are you saying? NO I haven't!"

"Go out and buy some then!" They don't have to be COMPLETELY see-through. Like...get those ones with a flowery, gauzy, semi-transparent front. You know what I mean."

"Jennifer...please...don't make me...flash my panties at Mr. Croker...for you." Her lips quivered. She was on the verge of tears. My little secretary was nearly breaking down...

"CHILL OUT Krissy. I'm not asking you to do ANY such thing. Just wear the mini-skirt, the sexy panties, a pretty bra, a white blouse and cute shoes. Don't wear pantyhose. That's all!

Millions of women dress like that every day. I shouldn't because I'm an attorney and a partner. You can because you're a secretary.

AND, just make sure you sit round at the side of the table and cross your legs every now and then. Maybe bend over a bit low when you pour the coffee... The outfit will do the rest by itself!

I'm sure Mr. Croker will be interested in wanting to see your legs again (and MAYBE your panties again - if he catches a sight of them!) - AND thus in doing more business with Vernon & Oakley.

Krissy, it is for the good of the firm. Please understand."

"But...Jennifer...I want to improve myself and work up to becoming a paralegal here, maybe even take the bar exam. No one will take me seriously if I don't dress properly."

"No one will take you seriously if you don't do what you are told either, Kristina."

Kristina wanted to tell me to go and jump in the lake. But part of her knew I was right. And all of her knew I was her respected boss.

Her face was slightly flushed and I'm sure her pussy was throbbing at the thought of her boss practically ordering her to expose her underwear to a client. I could sense it. And I knew my pussy was wet as I watched her confused face as she prepared to submit to my will.

"Good. That's settled then." I declared.

"Thanks so much sweetie. Knock on wood we get the business."

***

That's why I hired her. I'm very good at reading people, my job depends on it. What excites me is the blind desperate fear and one-in-a-million shot that she'll get some guts and actually tell me to piss off. And quit. Yet what pushes me into a dark little cloud of desire is how she never disappoints me, and always sells herself short and jumps to. It would be almost sad if it weren't so damned funny, what people do to themselves. Kristina's been doing this long before I came along, surrendering to people and tasks she hates. If not me, she'd find someone else, sick little bimbo she is.

As time goes by I had to up the stakes so I wouldn't get bored.

I was going on vacation the next week, needed to buy some new underwear and things and didn't have time to get away from the office. Kristina could obviously help me.

"Krissy," I began, "would you be a darling and go down to the shopping mall and pick up some things for me. I need five new pairs of panties, nice matching bras, and some pads and things. Put in on your card and I'll pay you when you get back" (if I remember).

Silence. A quiet, silently outraged stare. She was thinking, "I'm not your `personal shopper' - especially not for lingerie and sanitary products."

"...But...but...Jennifer, I don't even know what type you like or what size you are!"

"I've thought of that, stupid!" I handed her a brown paper shopping bag. "I've put in there some current examples of my favourite panties, and one bra for size - and empty packages of the sanitary stuff I like. Just make sure you match up the bras nicely! Show the panties to the sales girl at Hanley's when you get to the store, and she'll do the rest. Easy!"

...What I didn't tell her was that the panties were straight from my laundry basket...unwashed, and well-worn. I envisioned the scene at Hanley's when my little Krissy opened the bag and, in disbelief, passed to the assistant my dirty laundry, saying, "My boss sent me to ask you for some more like these. I'm sorry they're dirty. She must not have had any clean ones to give me."

I wondered, would Kristina sniff my panties in the street on the way back - or in the privacy of the ladies' room?

***

Slowly...over several months, the realization dawned on me that I liked bossing Kristina around because...I lusted after her...with all my being.

And deep inside, I WANTED her to stand up to me. To tell me to shut up. To push me back over my big, antique wooden desk, pull aside my panty gusset and push her fingers ROUGHLY into my pussy. To kiss me full on my mouth. To sit in my comfortable leather chair and advise clients while I did her filing for her and ran her errands. To pay me a pittance while she took home thousands of dollars every month. To buy me a little box of soap every Christmas. To tell me what to wear. To advise me about my private life. I wanted her to be MY boss.

The same thing must have been occurring to Kristina at the same time. Over the months she became more confident. She had picked up a lot of legal knowledge from me and from the others. She began giving basic legal advice. She started doing a bar course in the evenings.

The senior partner liked her. Everyone liked her. She dressed better and better. She began wearing colourful and elegant suits, with well-cut short, but not too short, skirts.

***

A few months later she and I were in a structuring meeting with Mr. Croker and his team. His company was now a major client. Mike Moreton, our senior partner, had turned up at the meeting to see how things were going.

After that very first meeting, Mr. Croker had told me how impressed he had been that an up-and-coming paralegal could be so attractive and feminine too.

"But she's not a paralegal." I had said. "She's just my secretary."

"Well Jennifer, she knows a helluva lot of law for a secretary. Haven't you noticed?"

But I digress...

In this structuring meeting, I was saying,

"I'm sorry. There's just no way you can structure this property purchase to achieve a tax rebate."

...When Kristina interrupted,

"Jennifer,...Canford..." She used Mr. Croker's FIRST name! "I think you will find that we can bring the purchase payment within Schedule C(3) of the '86 Real Estate Exchange Act. That should save Croker Inc. 10 million dollars."