Serena's Toy

This is a femdom story that involves non-consent/reluctance with a female aggressor. All characters are 18 or older.

***

I drove my rental Nissan Altima through the posh neighborhood of suburban estates until I reached a short line of cars with bright red brake lights. All of the houses in the area were set back from the road with long driveways. Traditional white Christmas lights decorated trees in an understated way, yet they were hung so meticulously and high off the ground that it was clear serious money had been spent to achieve the effect.

After stop and go traffic for a few minutes, I handed my keys to a valet and walked up a long drive lit with scores of luminaries set in the snow. Above me, spotlights shined on a grand brick estate home perched on a steep rise, giving it an acropolis-like appearance. Most guests waited for staff-driven golf carts to shuttle them up, but I was happy for the brisk hike.

I briefly reflected on the events that led me here. I had been working at a Wall Street law firm for the past few years, my first job out of Harvard Law, and had been devastated to learn I was passed over in the recent round of partner promotions. I heard a rumor that one senior partner had blackballed me due to a disagreement we had during my first year as an associate. Colleagues whispered that my future prospects were dim due to his long memory. I happened to receive a headhunter call the same day offering a general counsel position at a sizable Midwest insurance firm. I interviewed the next day and ten days later I was on a plane to the heartland.

I had been at the company less than a week when the CEO and majority owner, J.F. McGregor, invited me to his annual company holiday party at his home. I later learned that invitations were strictly granted by employee seniority, and that attendance was an obligation. But it was my first weekend in town, and I was honestly happy to get out, as well as curious to see how my new boss lived. I also didn't know many people at the company yet and saw it as an opportunity to mingle.

To date, people I had met seemed reserved and cautious with me. My team of attorneys mostly had state school law degrees and were intimidated by my Harvard background. Some also appeared resentful they had been passed over for promotion to the executive role. Others in the company appeared to see me as an enigma, surprised I would come to the Midwest. They probably assumed the job was a temporary stepping-stone, and that I would be gone in a year or two.

If I planned to get anything done around here and reignite my career, I knew I would have to earn everyone's trust and respect. I had also learned my lesson about rocking the boat and was determined to maintain positive relationships among my colleagues.

I stepped through the front door and into the foyer, a vaulted room flanked by a double staircase. I joined a line of people at a coat check, all of whom seemed to avoid eye contact with me. After dropping my coat, a staff member directed me toward a staircase to what I assumed was a basement. I noticed he wore a green plaid vest over a white shirt, similar to the green sweater vest I wore over my white Oxford. The invitation had said Christmas attire.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I entered an elaborate entertaining space complete with a long mahogany bar, an assortment of high-top tables, as well as multiple lounge areas with plush couches and chairs, much like a hotel lobby. The cavernous room was flanked by a wall of glass that looked over a winterized pool and terrace lit up by more spotlights. The ceiling was much higher than I expected for a basement, making the room feel open and airy.

At least seventy-five people milled about the room standing or seated on the various furniture. Not noticing anyone I recognized, I walked over to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks from another green-vested staff member. I glanced at the man next to me and said hi. He gave me a wan smile, then turned and drifted away, reminding me of my outsider status.

After getting my drink I began to wander, looking for a conversation to join. As I walked up to a group, one of the men turned without actually looking at me.

"I'll take another Chardonnay," he said, lifting an empty glass in my direction.

"Uh, I'm not a staff member," I responded with an uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh, um, terribly sorry. It's just your green vest..." he said, looking apologetic and pulling back his glass.

However, instead of striking up a conversation with me, he turned away and continued his discussion. At that moment, I noticed a group of my direct reports mingling at one of the high-tops.

"Happy Holidays, folks," I said in my jolliest voice as I walked up.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Bennett," exclaimed Bridget, a lawyer in her late forties.

"Christmas is the reason for the season," clucked a young female lawyer, Michelle, a not-so-subtle statement that my choice of greeting was an unwelcome invention of east coast liberal atheists.

"Um, yeah, Merry Christmas," I responded awkwardly, then continued with an attempt at small talk. "So does anyone have travel plans over the break?"

"I submitted my vacation request six months ago. Did it not get added to your calendar when you joined?" Bridget asked defensively.

"Ah, I'll be honest I haven't looked at vacation schedules yet," I answered, then seeing dismay in her eyes, added, "But I'm not asking anyone to change anything. I was just curious what kind of trips you have planned."

The woman seemed to relax, then Steve, a silver-haired attorney in his fifties spoke.

"Why? Do you have fancy plans you'd like to share with us, Mr. Bennett?"

Geez this wasn't going well, I thought to myself. Steve was the most tenured member of the department and it struck me that he must be one of those who had been passed over for my position.

"Ah, no, actually I planned to do some house hunting and get to know the area better," I said. "This move happened quite quickly as you know. And please call me Josh."

"Of course it did, Mr. Bennett," he responded coolly.

"You know, I'm pretty hungry, I think I'll go check out the appetizer table," announced Michelle.

"I'll join you," the rest of the group answered in unison, and they all stepped away, ending the uncomfortable exchange.

I stood alone at the table nursing my drink and wondering if this whole move was a big mistake, when a woman's voice spoke at my side.

"I see your team hasn't exactly rolled out the red carpet for you."

"Excuse me?" I answered.

I turned toward the voice and was surprised to be standing eye-level with a woman's chest. She wore a white fuzzy button-down sweater that highlighted the generous swell of her breasts. An enticing valley of cleavage shown at the bottom of the sweater's V-neck cut. A large gold cross hung in the middle of her exposed chest and a red kerchief was tied around her neck.

Upon recovering from my initial surprise at her height, I tipped my head back and looked up to see a strikingly attractive face with full red painted lips, framed by wavy auburn hair. A red Santa hat with a white furry brim sat atop her head.

"I'm just joking around," she said with a kindly laugh. "Some people around here can be a bit...standoffish to outsiders. Not me, of course. Hi, my name is Serena."

She extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Serena," I responded, taking her hand. "I'm Josh Beckett, the new General Counsel."

I was surprised to find that her hand was significantly larger than mine, and that her grasp was firm, like a man's. I also guessed that she stood at least 6 inches taller than me, which was an unfamiliar experience given I was just under six feet tall.

"Yes, I know," she answered with a wry smile as she let go of my hand. "The new Ivy League hot shot. I hear there are bets around the office on how long you'll stick around. The last outside GC only made it six months, and I think he pretty much checked out by month two."

"Oh?" I said, unfamiliar with the background.

"Yeah, that was about a year ago, the team's been running autonomously since then," Serena explained. "But between you and me they haven't been getting jack shit done without a leader. Are you a good leader, Josh?"

Her crass language and direct question caught me off guard.

"Well, I have a Harvard Law degree and multiple years of transactional experience at one of the most prestigious law firms in New York," I responded, grasping for ways to put a shine on my limited leadership experience. "My work involved a great deal of coordination among clients, and internal and external counsel."

She raised an eyebrow and turned her head slightly.

"So, you're saying you haven't actually had direct reports," she stated, rather than asked.

"Well...no," I said with hesitation. "But Mr. McGregor didn't seem to think that was an issue. Rather his concern was that the team wasn't fully equipped for where he was planning to take the company."

"Of course, he would say that. He's horrible about setting unrealistic expectations," Serena rolled her eyes and sighed, then continued in a matter-of-fact way, "You'll obviously need to learn a thing or two about dealing with personalities and politics if you plan to make the skeptics lose their bets. Especially with some of the characters on that legal team."

I found her tone a bit patronizing and it irked me some, but I was determined to remain even keeled. Not to mention she was incredibly attractive, which gave me incentive to play along. As the company's head of legal, I knew I could never be romantically involved with a colleague -- but it didn't mean I couldn't enjoy the scenery.

"Well, I appreciate the advice," I answered. "And I appreciate you striking up the conversation, everyone else here seems to be giving me the cold shoulder."

"The culture of the company is a bit, shall we say, insular?" she said with a laugh. "But they'll warm up eventually, some faster than others. And once you earn people's trust, you won't find more loyal or hardworking folks anywhere."

As she finished her sentence, a short woman walked up to her and gushed:

"Merry Christmas, Serena!"

Serena bent over and hugged her emphatically. I found it intriguing how small she made the woman look. I took advantage of the distraction by glancing down to check out her bottom half. She wore a flared red skirt and white shimmering stockings that accentuated her long shapely legs. Her feet were encased in ankle-length black high-heel boots that probably added 2-3 inches to her height. I realized with bare feet she would still be significantly taller than me.

"Oh Marge, you're the best! Merry Christmas!" Serena said warmly, then stood back up. "Have you met the new GC, Josh?"

"Not yet, pleased to meet you."

We exchanged brief pleasantries and Marge moved on. Just as Serena began to speak again, she was interrupted by a man wishing her well, followed by a repeat of introductions. She seemed to be on friendly terms with everyone, and I was impressed by the graceful, self-assured ease she had about her. After a brief conversation she turned back to address me.

"So Josh," she asked with a pointed gaze. "Are you moving out here with a significant other?"

I was again surprised by her question. Was she possibly flirting with me?

"Well, no," I responded. "I'm single. It was honestly hard to find time to date working eighty-hour weeks at the firm."

"Hm, well that's good," she said with visible satisfaction, and I felt a rise of anticipation at the prospect of her hitting on me. "I think it's been an issue for some of our transplants -- spouses unable to acclimate and all. So that shouldn't be a problem for you."

I felt a brief pang of dejection at the more professional reason for the question.

"Yeah, that won't be a problem," I laughed trying to conceal my disappointment, then I thought of a witty comment and glanced down at my chest. "Although I'd probably be acclimating better tonight if I got the memo about the staff uniform."

Serena suddenly doubled over with a loud laugh, setting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself. Her touch felt electric and caused a stir in my pants. I watched how her large breasts jiggled with each chuckle and noticed the outline of small nipples poking through the soft merino wool. My cock fully hardened.

"Yeah, I would have advised against it," she said as her laughter subsided. She briefly nudged at my shoulder causing me to pivot slightly, then her hand pulled away. "So Josh, do you play sports, or work out maybe?"

Again, I couldn't tell if she was flirting or if there was something more to her question. Had her push been to test my fitness in some way?

"Actually, yeah, I swam in college and have made it a point to keep up my conditioning in the gym. It's pretty much the only thing I made time for besides work back in the city."

I prided myself on my well-honed physique, even if I hadn't been leveraging it much on the dating scene. I thought about the sweater vest and realized it probably did a good job of showing off my upper body. Subconsciously, I stood up a little straighter.

"There's a great country club in town. Aside from golf they've got indoor and outdoor pools, a huge fitness center, classes...the works, really," Serena answered, bursting my bubble again as her question seemed to have a more mundane purpose. "A lot of the executive team are members. You should think about joining. I'd be happy to put in a recommendation with the membership committee."

Despite my disappointment, the indoor pool captured my interest.

"That would be awesome, thank you," I answered.

"No sweat!" Serena said with a kindly smile, then her eyes flicked down to my torso, "By the way, would you mind if I took advantage of you?"

"Excuse me?" I exclaimed, flashing an incredulous look at such obvious innuendo.

"The vest, Josh," she responded with a giggle and an eye roll. "I'll have whatever you're having."

It took me a moment to realize she was referring to my waiter-like attire and asking me to get her a drink.

"Oh, yeah, uh, no problem," I stammered, before managing to recover, "Bourbon on the rocks, coming right up."

I walked to the bar and tipped back the remainder of my drink, noticing a slight buzz. Despite the rough start to the evening, I was beginning to enjoy myself with the red-headed beauty. Her suggestive questions and lofty demeanor had me a bit off balance but served equally to turn me on. There was something mysterious and intriguing about her that I couldn't put my finger on. I couldn't wait to return and continue our conversation.

After ordering our drinks, I glanced back and saw Serena staring intently in my direction. Only from a distance could I fully appreciate how remarkably tall and gorgeous she was. In addition to her beautiful face, her buxom figure formed a perfect hourglass, accentuated further by the poof of her skirt. There was an irresistible ripeness about her, as if she were a bright red apple gleaming on a tree, begging to be plucked and eaten. With her ginger hair and elevated stature, she stood out as if filmed in technicolor against the backdrop of plain black and white faces milling about below her.

Our mutual glance was interrupted by a short man walking up and greeting her, similarly to the others. As she took him into an embrace, I couldn't help noticing how every part of her was bigger than him, making him appear like a dwarf beside her. Yet her proportions were ideal and absolutely feminine -- just an order of magnitude larger than normal. If she didn't come across so warm and gracious, she could easily have seemed imposing, even intimidating.

I sighed with admiration, then turned back toward the bar to see two bourbon glasses poured fuller than my first. Odd, I thought to myself, I guess the bar gets more generous as the night wears on.

As I approached Serena, she spoke before I could hand her the glass:

"Come with me, I want to show you something."

Not thinking much of it, I followed her back toward the staircase carrying the two glasses. She turned and opened a door, then stepped through and poked her head back out.

"Come on, in here."

I glanced around and noticed that we were out of sight of the other guests. A sense of unease fell over me as my inner lawyer kicked in. Could this be construed as inappropriate? I was the general counsel of the company, I had to avoid any semblance of impropriety. Yet my mind quickly spun a counterargument that I was being sexist. If she weren't the hottest woman at the party would the concern have even crossed my mind? I quickly settled that there was nothing yet wrong about the situation.

My decision seemed to be exonerated as I stepped forward into a vast room of exercise equipment and gym space, complete with a basketball half-court and yoga studio. I heard the door swing shut behind us, causing a loud echo.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Serena noted as she stepped toward me and took a drink from my hand.

"I'll say!" I exclaimed with obvious awe.

I watched in surprise as Serena tipped up the glass and downed it in one gulp. The remnant ice shook as her arm dropped.

"Whoa! Are you sure that's...?" I began.

Before I could complete my sentence, she reached out and took the other drink, then summarily drained it like the other. I was flabbergasted. Something seemed off about a grown woman making such an obviously reckless move.

Before I could object further, she set both glasses down on a table and gathered me in her gaze. Her demeanor was suddenly different. Her expression was intense, and her body seemed coiled to strike, like a snake stalking its prey. She suddenly was intimidating.

"You're pretty hot, Josh," Serena said bluntly as she slinked seductively toward me.

I felt a sudden conflict inside, a sense of unease competing with a flood of sexual desire. My brain screamed: Damnit, don't fuck up this job! Yet my cock strained at my briefs, enthralled by the unexpected turn of events. Could she possibly be worth the risk?

But I had no time to decide for myself. With lightning speed, Serena bent down, grabbed the back of my head in her large hand and pulled me into an aggressive kiss. She pressed her lips hard into mine and her tongue darted deep into my mouth, shoving mine aside as it probed around, serpent-like. The bourbon was strong on her breath.

Without warning, her other hand enveloped my package. I began to double over with the abrupt stimulation, but her hand on my head pressured me to remain standing. She kneaded, squeezed and stroked with wanton urgency as her lips continued to attack mine.

I almost succumbed to her sudden onslaught, but a part of me remembered the awkward circumstances and the massive risk I was taking. I turned my head and pulled away from the kiss, taking a step back.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," I managed to say.

Serena followed me as I backpedaled, and I began to stumble. I might have taken a spill, except I bumped into a support column that stopped me in my tracks. Serena's large body pushed forward, pinning me in place. One of her thighs pressed hard into my crotch. Despite my trepidation, her leg felt amazing against my cock.

"I saw you checking me out, Josh," Serena hissed as she ran a hand through my hair and slithered her lithe body against mine. "I know you want me."

"Um, yeah, but --," I started to say.

"But what, Josh?" she breathed tauntingly as she bent down and slid her cheek next to mine. Her thick hair flowed into my face smelling of spring flowers. I shivered as her sensual voice whispered softly in my ear. "You sound like a goddamn pussy. When I want something...I fucking take it."