The Bamboo Ceiling Ch. 04

Chapter 4: Changes at Work

I looked glumly out the passenger-side window as James drove us to the office. Last night, after I ceremoniously burned the outward vestiges of my masculinity, James laid claim to me in the deepest way he could. And I say "deepest" both metaphorically and literally. The residual soreness in my throat and anus served as a salient reminder: James has a big cock.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The lacy thong that James made me wear did little to separate my sore cheeks from the inside of my slacks. And given how my skin stung against the fabric, I could only imagine that the massive red prints (each in the shape of James's hand) were still visible on my ass.

"You feeling sore over there, Kimmy?" James placed his hand possessively on my inner thigh. "Don't worry, it should pass by midday. Not to brag, but it's pretty common for my girls to walk a little funny the morning afterward. Especially the Asian chicks; they're not used to the size that I'm carrying around." James laughed as he patted my thigh, rubbing my lacks with his fingers.

I couldn't say anything--the lifetime of enforced inferiority stilled weighed on my shoulders like a ton of bricks. And the fact that the night before, I'd given up my mouth and ass to this racist asshole made my position much worse. But I was furious at the way that James grouped me with 'my girls.' As if, for one, he owned the people he fucked, and as if I was another 'girl.' I was also furious at the way that James possessively kept his hand on my thigh. Most of all, I was furious at how profoundly turned on I was.

James poked at my swelling--though underwhelming--groin.

"Someone's getting excited," James remarked, "we're going to have to do something about that."

"Wait--what do you mean, 'do something about that'?" I probed.

Without a warning or turn signal, James quickly swerved out of the lane and into an empty spot along the sidewalk. James stopped the car and looked over at me, darkly.

"What was that, Kimmy?"

"S-sorry," I replied, afraid of what he was about to do, "I meant, what do you mean, Sir?" I accented the honorary title and looked down, hoping that my show of submission would satiate him.

James continued to look at me. "That's better. Good girls show respect to their master."

"Sorry, Sir."

"I never owe you an explanation, Kimmy. As far as you're concerned, you're going to do as you're told."

"Y-yes, Sir."

"But you've otherwise been a good girl, so I'll reward you by elaborating." James flicked the little bulge in my pants. "That useless little thing hasn't seen any action in a while. And as long as you're living in my house--as long as you're my bitch, Kimmy--it's not going to see any action at all. Frankly, I don't think you'll care if it does. Don't think that I didn't notice that you came last night." James laughed, "the pathetic thing barely made a stain on the sheet, but you definitely came as I was fucking you. I've heard of devices that you can put a male sub's dick in to keep it from tenting. I'm going to order one for you."

A whirlwind of shame and fear overtook me. First, I definitely had an orgasm while James was fucking me last night. I wanted to hide how much I enjoyed it; I didn't want the asshole to have the satisfaction of knowing about my... satisfaction. But I didn't know that he could tell.

Second, what the fuck was he talking about, that he's heard of 'devices that you can put on a male sub's dick to keep it from tenting'? What kind of company did this asshole keep? Did he know other people with male subs?

"That's going to be a later thing, Kimmy," James condescendingly patted me on the side of the head and ruffled my hair, "for now, we'll just have to make sure you don't sully my sheets with your pathetic little dribbles."

The rest of the drive passed in silence. Portland's grey, melancholic sky matched my inner resignation. Winter had definitively set in. I expected that I'd seen my last year as a free and masculine-presenting person.

When we arrived at my office, I threw my jacket on my chair and sat down at my cubicle. I opened my email client to see only one email. And it was from my supervisor.

Hi Jung--

As soon as you're in, come see me at my office.

--Frank

Oh no. As James had (correctly) pointed out, I couldn't keep a client to save my life. I was polite. I was prompt. I was professional. But I lacked power. I lacked leadership. It wasn't that clients did like or trust me, but that they didn't see me as capable. I knew in my bones that Frank wanted to chat about my current portfolio--of only two clients.

As the team supervisor--and a modestly successful financier himself--Frank enjoyed a cozy corner office. It wasn't the highest in the building, nor did it have a riverside view, but it was a testament to Frank's success in his role. Frank leaned back in his tall, bonded leather office chair behind his dark, wooden desk. Across from Frank sat two chairs. James was sitting in one of them, chatting casually about his predictions for something called "March Madness."

Frank nodded and waived me in, but didn't verbally acknowledge my presence until James finished speaking. One more reminder that even though I was smarter and harder working than James, seducing clients was what garnered respect around this office. And few were as seductive as James.

"James," Frank interrupted my thoughts, "I'm actually glad you're here. I called Jung in for a meeting, but this matter pertains to both of you. Jung, have a seat!"

Not having spoken a word since I came to Frank's office, I quietly obeyed, sitting in the chair next to James. James was slouched back with his right elbow drooped over the back of his chair. His right elbow was casually propped up against the armrest, and his right leg was folded across with his right ankle resting atop his left knee.

By contrast, I shrunk down (as I usually did in James's presence) with my knees together, my shoulders bent slightly forward, and my hands folded politely in my lap. A fitting contrast for what Frank wanted to discuss.

"Jung," Frank addressed me, "you've been having some trouble maintaining your client list. This has been an issue since we brought you on. So we're going to make a few changes. Think of this as a temporary, 'probationary' period."

My eyes widened in fear. Was this the first step toward me losing my job?

Frank could see the alarm in my expression. "Now don't you worry, Jung! Our goal here is for you to be just as successful as your colleagues. And that's why we're going to have you start working more closely with James here."

Oh shit.

Frank continued, "So here's the plan. James, you probably already knew this based on the great work you do, but we're planning on promoting you to be a team supervisor this upcoming year. So we'll be moving you into a windowed office. Jung, we're going to transfer your two remaining clients to James. And then, Jung, we'll move your desk to be right outside of James's new office. You'll then work with--well, under--James as kind of a helper to his accounts."

James interjected with an evil grin, "I'm so happy to hear that, Frank. I'm honored just to be considered. But just to clarify, Jung's going to be my secretary?"

"Well, not exactly," Frank looked at James and me awkwardly before continuing, "we don't use the term, 'secretary,' around here. More like an 'administrative aid.' And again, we hope that this will only be temporary until Jung gains a little more... confidence... around his clients."

"Of course!" James flashed his evil grin toward me as he spoke with Frank, "so Jung will be helping me by setting up meetings, answering calls, making copies, and doing other administrative tasks to help me out? Temporarily, of course?"

"That's right," Frank answered, "and yes, we expect this to be temporary."

I was stunned. I opened my mouth to object. To say anything. But I was worried that if I started talking, then I would start crying. And I would never give James that satisfaction. And despite Frank's assurances, I doubted that this would be 'temporary.'

"Now the good news for you, Jung," Frank continued, "is that we will not be docking your pay. Of course, our associates here are paid based on commission, and, well, you haven't been doing so well in that department anyway, Jung." Frank looked at both of us awkwardly. "Anyway, that's all for now! Our facilities guys will be moving your things to your new desks before you start tomorrow. Now back to work, both of you!"

It occurred to me as James and I left Frank's office that I didn't get the chance to say a word during the entire meeting. That I just allowed myself to be--in function, if not in title--demoted to a secretary. JAMES's fucking secretary.

James leaned over to me as we walked back to our cubicles. "Well I don't know about you, but I'm excited about getting a new office. And don't worry miss secretary," James nudged me with his elbow, "I'll make sure that you plenty of one-on-one time in the new office with me." James left me to wallow at my cubicle.

I stared at my computer screen, doing nothing. Now that I didn't have clients, what was I supposed to do with my last before my demotion? I started to draft emails to my two clients to let them know about the change, but I couldn't bring myself to hit 'send.' I decided that, if James was going to take my clients (and my dignity), then I'd leave that work to him. I spent the rest of the morning packing my desk and playing solitaire on my computer.

In the early afternoon, James stopped by my cubicle. "Hey Kimmy," James leaned over my cubicle wall and looked down at me with his devious grin, "I'd love to take my new secretary out for lunch."

"Administrative aid," I corrected him, as if the distinction meant anything, "and I brought my own lunch." I pointed at the sad paper bag sitting on my desk. I knew that, as soon as we got home, James would make me pay for turning him down and for failing to address him as 'Sir.' But I was so angry from the morning's meeting that I couldn't think straight.

James slid around my cubicle wall and blithely sat against my desk as he pushed the paper bag into a trash can. James placed his massive hand on my shoulder, then moved it up my neck until he was holding the side of my face. I was too scared of James at that moment to be worried that our colleagues would see James's thumb rubbing the corner of my mouth, plying the corner of my lips up as if he was telling me to smile.

"Kimmy," James said with a sympathetic grin, "I can tell you're having a bad day. And I don't blame you. And that's why I'm going to overlook your little indiscretion just there. And that's why I'm going to buy you lunch."

James moved his face closer to mine. "I won't take 'no' for an answer, Kimmy."

I gulped. As usual, James effortlessly put me in my place.

We left the office and walked down the block toward James's favorite little Thai restaurant.

James held his hand out to stop me as we passed a little tailoring shop. "Let's stop in here first. I've had several suits made here. I need to stop in for a moment" James placed his hand on the small of my back and he guided me into the door.

An elderly Malaysian woman stood up and smiled at James. "Mr. James! It's so good to see you!" Her accent was thick, but she had clearly stated this phrase--or similar versions of it--enough that people could understand her. I wondered whether, if I asked James what her accent was, he could identify it as Malaysian.

"It's good to see you too, Sue!" James confidently stepped toward the counter. "I called ahead for an appointment."

"Oh, yes," Sue replied slowly, "and where is 'Kimmy'?"

What? Was this for me?

"Oh yes, Sue," James put his hand back on the small of my back, "this is Kimmy."

Sue looked at me for a moment, dumbfounded. I could see her wheels turning for a moment before her fake, painted smile returned. "Oh, of course! Right this way!"

For several minutes, Sue took extensive measurements of my torso, legs, arms, and neck. "This will look very lovely," Sue said repeatedly. I had no idea what was going on. I was nervous.

After Sue finished, James guided me out the door with his hand possessively on my lower back.

I looked up at him as we continued walking to the restaurant. "What was that about?"

James cleared his throat, annoyed.

"S-sorry," I quickly corrected myself, "what was that about, Sir?"

James kept looking ahead and toward the restaurant. "What? Can't a boss surprise his secretary once in a while?"

My nervousness grew.

When we entered the restaurant, a cute Thai girl in her early twenties beamed at James from behind the counter. "Oh my god, hi James! It's so good to see you! Right this way!"

Of course James knew this girl. And of course she fawned over James while completely ignoring me.

As she walked us to our seats, she asked James about how he'd been, and complained that she hadn't seen him in some time.

"Ah," James said, "Sorry I haven't called you back, Mala, you know how busy work gets, right?"

"It's Mali," I could see her annoyed microexpression from James's misremembering her name before she smiled at James again, "and it's okay! I'd love to come over again sometime!"

You're kidding. This random restaurant hostess is a notch in James's bedpost.

"Of course," James said, "what are you doing tonight?"

Mali's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, "um, oh my god, I'm totally free!"

"Great," James replied, "my roommate here makes great bibimbap. Honestly, he'd give this place a run for its money. Come over at seven."

This racist idiot. He just told Mali, a Thai girl working at a Thai restaurant, that my (a Korean's) bibimbap (a traditional Korean dish) would give this restaurant a run for its money.

Mali just kept smiling up at James, transfixed in his bright eyes. "Okay! I can't wait!" She conspicuously swung her hips as she walked away from us.

Why do women put up with James's bullshit?

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I finished packing my desk and finished a few more games of solitaire. That evening, I prepared James and Mali my mom's bibimbap recipe. The one that would, apparently according to James, give a Thai restaurant a run for its money.

As usual, after dinner, I sat in my room and tried to ignore the loud banging coming from James's room. I also tried to ignore Mali's loud whining. It was common for the girls that James had over to make quite a bit of noise, but Mali was clearly into dirty talk.

"Oh, god! Oh fuck! Oh god! Oh, fuuuck! Fuuck! Yeah, fuck this pussy! Fuck! Fuck! Aaahhhh!"

Mali either didn't care that I was also in the house, or was so transfixed by the blond, blue-eyed man fucking her that she forgot I existed. Both could have been true.

After Mali left, James called me into his room. I entered, wearing the baby blue nightie that James liked. James was laying in bed, scrolling on his phone. After I stood there awkwardly for a moment, James looked up at me.

"That's a good girl for wearing the nighty," James said seductively. "Tell me, Kimmy, have you ever tasted a woman's pussy before?"

I hesitated. "No, Sir."

James laughed. "I didn't think so. But you're in luck, Kimmy. There's a first time for everything."

James slid the covers from his body, revealing his flaccid (but still much larger than mine) penis. It was glistening from his and Mali's juices. I stared at it with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

"You're not here to admire it, Kimmy. Come and clean this off."

I walked toward the master bathroom to get tissues.

"Stop," James commanded. "Get the fuck in this bed and clean this off."

Oh. That's what he meant.

"Y-yes, Sir," I meekly replied as I moved toward the bed. For some reason, I felt compelled to make this as seductive and sensual for James as possible. I started by placing both hands on the bed, then my knees. I then crawled on all fours, keeping my eyes on the prize. As I lowered my head toward his cock, readying to debase myself, I stopped and looked up at James with big, doe eyes. "May I lick you clean, Sir?"

I was satisfied to see James breathe deeply and smile. "That's a good girl, for asking Daddy's permission. Lick this cock clean."

"Yes, Daddy."

I lowered my head onto his cock and started licking the shaft. Although, 'lapping' may more accurately describe the way I cleaned his cock with my saliva. After I lapped up as much as I could, I put the head in my mouth and started bobbing up and down, slurping on it. I could make out the familiar taste of James's cum. But I could also make out another taste. It was slightly metallic, like a penny or a piece of silverware.

After I spent a minute sucking on James's cock, he started to shift his hips up and down. Damn, was he ready to go again?

James put his fingers through my hair as he thrust his hips up and down and into my mouth. "That's a good girl," he said. I gleefully whimpered at the compliment.

After fucking my face for several moments, James pulled me down on his cock as it pulsated in my mouth. This was it. I sealed my lips around the shaft so that nothing would get out, and sucked upward to capture as much of his virile, white man's seed as I could.

Like a good girl, I didn't spill a drop.

"Good girl, Kimmy," James was breathless as he pulled me up against him. And curled around me. I wondered if James slept better when he had an Asian sissy to be his little spoon.

---

The rest of the week was a whirlwind. I regretted not emailing my clients about the new changes at work. Specifically, James made me regret it because he made me call the clients personally and explain the situation to them.

"So, James will be taking care of your accounts from now on," I would stutter into the phone.

Both clients were confused. "But we'll still be calling you to schedule meetings and to get in touch with James?"

"Uh, yeah, sort of."

"So what, Jung, are you like a secretary now?" It was a fair question. And the honest answer would have been 'yes.'

"Well, 'administrative aid,' technically."

"Whatever. We'll update our contact information on our end. Let us know if there are any other updates."

"Great, thanks," I murmured before hanging up the phone.

I didn't have time to seethe in the humiliation before James called me into his office.

"Great news, Kimmy! Sue does some exceptionally fine work and does it exceptionally quickly." James held up a garment bag by its hanger.

Was he serious?

James unzipped the front to reveal an ivory-colored suit.

"Wait, so you bought me a suit, Sir?"

James pulled the suit from out of the garment bag. Why were the buttons on the wrong side? And why did the shirt dip downward at the top? And why did the shirt have no buttons?

Oh no.

James interrupted my epiphany. "Close the door behind you, Kimmy. And shut my office blinds"

I obeyed, then looked at James pleadingly. "Please," I begged, "don't make me wear that. That's a woman's suit."

"If you're going to beg, Kimmy, you can beg better than that."

Fuck. Well, if that's what I have to do. I got down on my knees and put my palms on the floor in front of me.

"Please, Sir, I don't want to wear that."

"Too bad. But it was nice seeing you on your knees in here."

That fucking asshole.

James handed me the suit. Before I could turn around to leave the office, James stopped me.

"Oh no, I want you to try it on right now."

I looked at him with wide eyes.

"I think you heard me, Kimmy."

I slowly, and silently, stripped in front of James. James snickered when he saw my lacy white thong as I took off my slacks.

As I stood in his office in nothing but a white, lacy thong, James pushed a pen holder off of his desk and onto the ground.