The Bully Pt. 26

Samantha stopped at my office door as she walked down the long corridor that passed my office. I immediately noticed that she was wearing less make-up, and her lips were glossed in a clear-coat, which was encouraging. We exchanged pleasantries even though Samantha was having a hard time looking me directly in the eye. I hoped that her shame was due to the fact that she was wearing a pair of crotchless panties, which I knew she found to be demeaning to women.

It was one thing for Samantha to kneel passively in front of me while I dictated the terms of our relationship. However, today was when the rubber met the road for my boss. She was about to face her first true test of being my fuck-toy. I needed to know if Samantha had been an obedient girl last night. My expectation was that she suppress her loathing of crotchless panties, and everything that she felt they stood for, and get her ass down to the mall to purchase a few pairs, preferably in some alluring colors.

Ever since her recent scalding Samantha had been fearful of the coffee maker. I didn't blame her in the slightest. Despite it being a freak accident, Samantha had sustained some painful second-degree burns. For this reason, I offered to help her out.

"Would you like some coffee, Samantha?" I asked pleasantly. "I can bring it with me to your office. I am heading your way in about ten minutes."

"Thank you, Mark," Samantha responded quietly, as her face reddened. "I appreciate that. I will see you in about ten minutes."

After I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, I poured Samantha a large mug and added just the right amount of milk. We had lived together for a few months so I knew exactly how she liked it. Grabbing a large saucer to protect her mahogany desk, I walked down the corridor towards her imposing office door. A cursory glance at my watch confirmed that I had given Samantha the full ten minutes to prepare herself for me.

Once I arrived at the door, I punched in the six digit code and was granted immediate access. The first clue that Samantha was still on my program was the fact that she was on her knees in the designated spot. She seemed embarrassed by her voluntary submission, and her eyes were rooted to the carpet. I placed her coffee mug cup on top of the saucer, which rested on the corner of her oversized mahogany desk.

Approaching Samantha like a lion stalking its prey, I moved slowly in her direction. She smelt heavenly as I entered her personal space, and it was apparent that she had just spritzed herself for my benefit, which was another positive. When I got right in front of Samantha, I extended my right hand and cupped my palm under her chin. Raising her head slowly skyward so that she was forced to look directly at me, I was pleased to see that she had freshly-glossed lips. More importantly, the light pink shade was an exact match to her silk tailored suit. In addition, Samantha had toned down her make-up, with much less mascara than she usually applied, and just a light hint of pink blush on her cheeks.

"Good girl, Samantha," I said condescendingly, which elicited a wince from her. "You look quite youthful today. Fresh-faced even. You make an excellent first impression."

Samantha hates condescension and paternalistic behavior in equal measure, so I am sure it was difficult for her to suppress her rage as I talked down to her.

"Smile sweetheart," I instructed her. "I am going to take another photo of your make-up. It is still a work in progress but I definitely prefer today's look over yesterday's."

Samantha forced a smile initially, but when I insisted that she relax for the camera, a more natural smile appeared on her face. A few seconds later, Samantha buried her anger, and finally she smiled broadly, thereby exposing her perfect white teeth.

"You may stand, Samantha," I said magnanimously, extending my right hand to assist her from her kneeling position. "Let's chat while you enjoy your coffee."

Once she was on her feet, Samantha straightened the hem of her light pink silk skirt, and waited patiently for my lead. I strode confidently over to her desk, assumed my rightful position in her leather chair, and motioned for her to sit on the corner of the desk. It probably wasn't the most comfortable position for Samantha. However, she offered no pushback as she rested her buttocks against the edge of the desk, and nervously sipped her coffee.

"Relax, Samantha," I finally instructed her, as her coffee mug was visibly shaking in her hand. "I know you have a busy day today, and are scheduled in court this afternoon. I am not planning on busting a nut inside you today. The first few days will be about us getting reacquainted, and you adapting to my specific needs. I am not in any rush for the sexual component of our relationship. I have many years of that to look forward to."

"Sorry, Mark," Samantha whispered. "I am just very anxious at the moment. This is all new to me. I have never been submissive to a man before. I am completely out of my element in this role."

"You are doing just fine, Samantha," I assured her. "Just be yourself. That is what I fell in love with. Act natural at work and everything will be alright. I will modify your behavior as I see fit, and give you specific, ongoing instructions."

"Okay, I will try and be myself, Mark," Samantha responded nervously. "I am just not sure exactly what you want from me."

"You don't need to worry your pretty little head about that," I said condescendingly. "I will let you know exactly what I want, and when I need it. You have done a great job with your make-up today, and your preparation for our morning meeting was impeccable. You took great initiative by glossing your lips and scenting yourself for me. It gives the impression that you are readily available for my use and enjoyment. That makes me proud of you. Good girl."

Once again I saw Samantha recoil at my choice of words but there was no verbal pushback. I allowed her to finish her coffee as we went over the business plans for the day. Samantha had several meetings scheduled for the morning, and a court appearance this afternoon. I had some research to do for an upcoming case, and told my boss that I would be in the Law Library all morning.

"Maybe I will stop by your office at lunchtime, Samantha," I informed my boss. "I will keep you posted. Do you need anything else before I get back to the grind, boss?" I asked pleasantly.

Samantha was showing obvious signs of stress, and merely shook her head in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. I rose from her chair and started walking around the edge of the colossal desk.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Samantha," I exclaimed, as I stopped right in front of where she was leaning against the desk. "What did you do last night? Be specific."

Samantha seemed to comprehend that I wasn't asking her what she had for dinner, or what show she watched on Netflix. My line of questioning pertained solely to the preparation that she had undertaken to keep me happy.

"I went shopping for new intimate apparel, Mark," my boss whispered as her face reddened. "As instructed."

"Good girl," I said with a smile. "LaPerla? Agent-Provocateur?"

"I actually went to Victoria's Secret in the mall," Samantha answered shyly. "I needed something slightly different than my usual style."

"Don't be coy, Samantha," I said firmly. "When I ask you a question I expect a full and detailed response. I want you to try and get inside my head and imagine all of the specifics that I would find titillating. Capiche?"

"Capiche," my boss said quietly, shuffling around uncomfortably on the edge of the desk.

"Let's try this again," I said, as if I were addressing a teenager. "What did you do last night, Samantha?"

Samantha took in a deep breath, and tried to compose herself. She was an extremely intelligent woman and understood what I wanted from her. However, she had never allowed a man to verbally humiliate her and was having a tough time coming to grips with my controlling behavior. Also, Samantha was quickly learning that I knew many diverse ways to dehumanize her.

"I needed to buy some silk crotchless panties for my new boyfriend," Samantha began shyly. "I have never worn them before as I always considered them demeaning to women. However, my new lover is a dominant man and was insistent that I wear them to work on a daily basis. I have charge accounts at most of the luxury intimate apparel stores but I was too ashamed to purchase crotchless panties from someone that I am acquainted with. For this reason, I went to Victoria's Secret in the mall where I could shop in anonymity. I purchased twelve pairs of these type of underwear, in a variety of feminine colors, and intend to wear them to work to keep my boyfriend happy."

"Good girl," I said proudly. "That was a perfect response, Samantha. It wasn't too hard to swallow your pride and tell me what I wanted to hear, was it?"

"No, Mark," Samantha whispered, clearly over this exercise in control.

"What color are the panties that you selected to wear today, Samantha?" I continued grilling her. "Again, be specific and tell me what I want to hear."

"Light pink. My new boyfriend expects my panties to closely match the shade of my garter-belt, stockings and shoes," Samantha began shakily. "They should also be an approximate match to my skirt. In his previous relationship he dominated two young girls and demanded that they dress identically at all times. I can infer from this that outward appearance is important to my man, and I intend to make him proud of me."

"Perfect," I said. "You are a quick study, Samantha. Let me see your new purchase," I instructed her.

A look of confusion crossed Samantha's face as she tried to figure out the most graceful way to accommodate my demand for an underwear inspection. Leaning back slightly against the desk, Samantha grabbed the hem of her silk skirt, and raised it several inches, so that her garter-belt straps were in plain view. I could have cut her some slack and stooped slightly to confirm that her silkies were crotchless. However, I wanted to set the tone for our relationship, and it didn't involve me giving Samantha any breaks.

"I'm not going to kneel in front of you to check your panties, Samantha," I said firmly. "Hop up on the desk and squat for me."

Samantha's face turned a bright shade of red as she contemplated the mechanics of such a move. It wasn't graceful or ladylike, but Samantha managed to climb atop the huge desk. Once she was standing, she hiked up her skirt, and lowered herself into a deep squat.

"Spread your knees apart," I ordered her, heaping unnecessary additional humiliation on Samantha, as she was now splayed in a lewd pose.

The opening of her crotchless panties was gaping, as she squatted with her knees spread wide apart.

"This is why men love crotchless panties," I said with a chuckle.

Maintaining eye-contact with Samantha, I held my middle finger against her freshly-glossed pink lips.

"Open," I ordered, as my boss parted her lips slightly. "Now suck."

Samantha obeyed me reflexively, which was a very good sign this early into our fledgling relationship. Once I deemed my finger to be sufficiently lubricated, I removed it from her mouth, and lowered it to the opening of her crotchless panties. Then as her eyes implored me to show her a modicum of respect, I slid the wet digit between her labia and into her vagina.

Samantha was either aroused, which seemed unlikely under the circumstances, or she had lubricated her vaginal-cavity in anticipation of being used for my enjoyment. I needed to know, and I posed the question, as I eased my finger deeper until the second knuckle disappeared.

"You are wet, Samantha," I said, as she cringed with embarrassment. "How so? Be specific."

"I wasn't sure what you expected from me this morning, Mark," Samantha began hesitantly. "I knew I wouldn't self-lubricate with the stress I am experiencing. However, it seemed like the demand for me to wear crotchless panties is to facilitate your entry whenever you want to bust a nut. For that reason, I thoroughly lubricated my pussy and ass in case you decided to use either of my lower orifices."

"Perfect answer, Samantha," I gushed. "Just the right amount of graphic detail to be titillating."

When I removed my finger from her vaginal-cavity, it emerged coated with lubricant, and I just couldn't help myself. As Samantha remained in her wide squat stance, I moved my finger back a few inches and positioned it right at the entrance to her anus. Even as I applied only minimal pressure it slid in easily, her sphincter offering minimal resistance, as her eyes widened in disbelief. I wiggled my middle digit around inside Samantha's ass for a few seconds, before deftly removing it.

"What other preparations did you make this morning, Samantha?" I continued to grill her.

"I used a Fleet enema, Mark," Samantha whispered, her embarrassment written all over her face. "I wasn't sure if you were going to butt-fuck me this morning. I wanted to be squeaky clean in case you forced me to perform ass to mouth on you."

"Not this morning, Samantha," I assured her. "You have court later today, and I don't want to do anything that could possibly impair your performance at work. However, make the Fleet enema part of your daily routine from now on."

I gave my finger a quick sniff, and after observing the complete lack of odor, placed it back against Samantha's lips.

"Open," I ordered. "And suck."

I could see Samantha's palpable disgust as she sucked my middle finger clean. However, once again she refrained from any verbal or physical resistance.

"There was no odor on my finger," I informed her, as I removed it from between her lips. "Any after-taste?"

"No, Mark," Samantha whispered, the stress of her ordeal quite evident now.

"Okay, Samantha," I said cheerfully. "I need to get back to work. Do you need anything else from me before I head over to the Law Library?"

Samantha was literally speechless. She was still squatting on her desk, knees splayed lewdly, as her shaved pussy peeked through the gaping opening of her crotchless panties. Her face was bright red with shame, and she was breathing heavily, presumably from the physical exertion of squatting for a prolonged period.

Finally as I stood expectantly awaiting her response, she managed to utter a short sentence.

"No, thank you, Mark. I am fine."

"Ok, then," I said with a smile. "We have hours to bill, Samantha. Get your ass back to work, girl."