The Stipulated Life of Jon Henri Deveroux

Her voice was very matter of fact, and Jon Henri was not sure if there was anger under her words, or something else, something he could not quite put his finger on. But, before he could decide, she continued, "The policy is quite clear in it's restrictions on the browsing and accessing of sexually oriented sites. And since we both know the unfortunate consequences such behavior caused at your last place of employment, one can only wonder what it is that you don't understand."

As she sat staring blankly at him, he could physically feel her displeasure. Coming on the heels of the last few days, the moment was just too much for him, and Jon Henri found himself in a near state of shock. He sat motionless for a few moments, looking helplessly at the two plain manila folders before him, and was struck by the devastation two such benign looking objects could wreak on his already dysfunctional life.

When he was finally able to look up, and face her, he began shakily, "I wish I knew what to say Ms Stevens, I really do, because I really appreciate you giving me this opportunity. I know a lot of companies wouldn't have." Shaking his head sadly he gathered himself and continued, "The fact is, I am as lost as to what to do with myself. You knew about my Internet addiction, or whatever it is, and you were generous enough to overlook it and give me this job. But you don't know about the tons of other baggage I'm carrying, and it's just breaking me down. And if I lose this job, if you fire me, as you have every right to do, well, it may just be the last straw."

Looking at her, almost pleading, he said sadly, "I could lose it all, everything," and he hung his head in silence, and awaited his fate. When the silence had become intolerable, he looked up to find her looking at him, her demeanor slightly softened, almost amused.

"Well, you are correct on a couple of points. I did take a risk on you, and I am indeed, perfectly within my rights to can your sorry ass, right here on the spot. Your worthless balls are, in fact, squeezed neatly into those two folders. But," she continued, the expression on her face taking on a mischievous edge, "You are dead wrong on one thing. I know more, much more about your baggage, as you call it, than you might suspect. And although I understand, and have understood, that you are indeed totally fucked up, I don't feel that you are totally useless. In fact, if you asked nicely, I might be persuaded to try and help you out of this situation." Catching and holding eye contact with Jon Henri, as he looked up in reaction to these words, she said, "You just need to accept what you are!"

He felt what blood remained in his face drain. He was suddenly frozen with fear and recognition. Of course, "Mistress S" is Ms. Victoria Stevens. How could he be such a fool? But in the midst of his meltdown, the powerful woman behind the desk retook control of the situation.

"Well, do you want help? Do you want to try and save your job, and all that goes with it?"

Without hesitation Jon Henri cried out, "Yes, please, I'll do anything you ask. I will be a model employee from this day on."

Ms Stevens nodded, "I know you will dear, but that's not the real issue here is it? We must work on your so-called baggage. And that will require your following my instructions precisely. You must do much better than you have so far," she added with a disapproving tone. But if you are willing to agree to my terms, the office closes at six. Be back here in my office at a quarter after. And when she returned her attention to the papers in front of her, he knew he was dismissed for the moment.

Returning to his office Jon Henri's mind was spinning a hundred directions at once, and when he sat down at his desk, he stared at the bottom left corner of his computer screen, expecting at any moment, to see that Mistress S had signed on. Of course, she never did, and when he looked up, it was after six pm, and he straightened up his desk, and walked down the now dark and deserted corridor to whatever awaited him.

He tapped lightly on the door, which stood slightly ajar, at precisely six fifteen. A female voice from inside told him to enter, and when he walked into the office, he thought that Ms Stevens looked slightly different. Her business jacket seemed to be open a button lower, and considerable flesh was evident in the open neckline. Slightly embarrassed when caught gawking, he made a motion towards the seat he had recently vacated, but he was stopped short, when the woman admonished, "You may remain standing for the moment". As he stood at attention, she removed her reading glasses, and leaned back in her high backed chair.

"So", she began, "you have decided to ask for my help." It was more of a pronouncement than question, and when he began to nod his agreement, she stopped him. "Then perhaps you should articulate that fact, in the form of a request. After all, it is you that is asking for help."

He did so, laying out the nature of his offense, as well as the depth of his contrition and despair, before making an emotional plea for her intervention. By the time he finished, it was apparent that he had delivered his plea in the appropriate tone, and that she was, for the moment at least, pleased.

"Very well, then you agree to follow my instructions precisely, and submit to my authority completely?"

Without hesitation he replied to the affirmative, reiterating his willingness to do anything to keep his job, and prevent his wife from finding out about his latest indiscretions.

Apparently persuaded, the woman began his introduction to the path to his salvation with a simple, stern directive. "Remove your clothing where you stand." His mind wanted to balk, to question, but he knew it would be unwise to allow even an appearance of hesitation. He removed his jacket, followed by the shirt and tie, all of which he folded over the back of the chair in between him and the desk. Without taking time to even consider otherwise, he pulled off his shoes and socks, first one, and then the other. And when he unbuckled and dropped his slacks, taking his under shorts down in the same motion. He stood before the beautiful and powerful woman stark naked, and quite unsure of what would come next.

Her eyes moved up and down, assessing his body critically for a moment, before telling him to turn slowly in place, allowing her to see his nakedness from all angles. When he had completed the awkward pirouette, she nodded her satisfaction, proclaiming him, "not without a certain deferential charm. However", she quickly added, "that ridiculous patch of pubic hair is totally inappropriate and must be gone, let's say by tomorrow."

As if he was witnessing this all in some vivid, super erotic dream, he watched himself nod his understanding.

"Very well", she said flatly, "I believe you are sincere, and perhaps worth my trouble." She picked up the receiver on her telephone, and glancing down at a scribbled note dialed a number. She held out the receiver, already ringing, and instructed him to "tell her you have made a terrible mistake at work and that you are meeting with Ms Stevens to try to save your job".

It happened so quickly that he was caught off guard, and had to hurriedly gather his composure when his wife's familiar voice answered on other end. Trying his best to control the emotion in his voice, he repeated the message just as the woman across the desk had dictated it to him. Doing so was not made any easier, when Ms Stevens casually unbuttoned her business jacket, and let it fall open, revealing a perfectly matched pair of long, heavy, upturned breasts, capped with fleshy, dollar sized areolas. He was relieved and surprised when, despite the obvious disappointment in his wife's voice, she didn't press him for many details. And with the dial tone buzzing through the earpiece, he handed the receiver back to his benefactress.

"You handled that exceptionally well," she purred pleasantly, "Now, kneel." When Jon Henri had done as instructed, she told him he could now come around the desk to her, but he was to do so on his hands and knees in a respectful manner.

As he made his way beside the desk and turned the corner to her side of it, she spun her chair to meet him. When she did so it became clear that in addition to being naked under her jacket, she had also discarded any panties she might have been wearing before he entered. She had been sitting across from him, nude from the waist down, except for her expensive heels. And as she let her shapely legs part, he was face to face with her neatly coiffed womanhood.

"Come closer," she urged, "but slowly. Don't hurry. Try and catch my scent, my perfume first, perhaps here," as she indicated a spot high on her inner thigh. Jon Henri did so, and picked up a waft of her expensive perfume, and perhaps a hint of bath powder beneath it? Ms Stevens noticed his expression change as he made the aromatic connection, and urged him closer.

"Now close your eyes, breathe in, that's it. Try to locate my natural scent. Now, breathe in deeper. Try it with your mouth open, this will heighten your olfactory ability."

And soon he realized that she was right. Upon inching only slightly closer, he could easily detect the slightly pungent smell of sex, mixed in with the fragrant toiletries, moving him to press his face full into her.

"Stop", she commanded, "Not so fast. Take your time and let the aroma fill your nostrils. You must learn to recognize my scent, to appreciate it, even to discern my state of arousal. You see that you will need to sharpen all of your senses, to be of true service to me, or anyone else."

Her words focused him in the moment, he was aware of nothing else, and he was drawn nearer still by her scent. Till he was so close she could feel his labored breathing. He remained perfectly still, on hands and knees, eyes closed, poised like a well trained dog on point, awaiting the command to flush the covey.

Finally, after a torturous few moments, she said, "You may taste me now." As Jon Henri leaned in to slide his tongue up her damp slit, spreading the folds of her labia as he did, she placed a guiding hand on his bowed head. Soon she corrected his movements, "Stop, you are licking, not tasting. You must do exactly as I say. Place your open mouth against my pussy, lay your tongue in deep, and let my juices reach the back of it. Breathe in through your mouth. Yesssssssss, that's it. You see the difference? Can you taste the difference?"

He could indeed taste her now. His mouth and nostrils were filled with her. He was eager to respond when she gave the command to find her clitoris. She coached him on how to use the combination of his tongue and lips to coax the love button from its hooded hiding place. But after only a few moments with it trapped between his lips she told him to stop, and rise up to her bosom, where she offered him a puffy teat.

As he placed his lips around it she directed him to first bathe her entire breast, first one, and then the other, with long wet licks using his flattened tongue. She moaned her approval, and when he had covered them both, and only then, she rewarded him with the nipple.

"Place your mouth over it, and close your lips on it. Provide lots of contact with the inside of your mouth, and use your tongue under the nipple while you suck." When he was doing it correctly she purred her pleasure and said, "That's it, that's how you suckle properly, now, get back down there and put what you've learned to use."

After her hands had guided him back down to his knees, his lips once again found her swollen clit, and he suckled her until he felt a shiver run through her body. As she stiffened, her hands clasped behind his head, pulling him so tightly to her that he could barely breathe. Finally she lifted her hips from her seat, sliding her wetness up and down his face, until she collapsed back down, soaked and satiated. "You may now lap it up, and drink from me as your reward for a lesson well learned."

Then she leaned back in her chair. He ran his flat tongue from the silky smooth skin around her puckered anus, all the way up to her still trembling clit, over and over, drinking in her juices, until she pushed him away with a heeled foot. "That's all for today, you may dress and leave for the evening."

He swiftly pulled on his clothing. But, before he left he faced her, attempting to thank her, for letting him keep his job.

She cut him off, "It's much too early for that dear boy. We have miles to go yet. But I'm glad we are at least giving this a try." Smiling she added, "And Mr. Hernandez will be pleased as well." Seeing the look of confusion on Jon Henri's face she added with a chuckle, "Please, don't misunderstand, it's not that Ramon cares so much about what happens to you. It's your bouncy bottomed little wife. He's been obsessed with her since the holiday party, and desperately wants to fuck her. He was afraid he had lost any chance when it looked like you would be fired." Laughing she added, "It would seem you both are getting a second chance."

And when she turned her attention to dressing herself, Jon Henri, dazed by what he had just heard, coming on top of what had transpired prior, walked out the door, like some kind of a crash survivor, and headed down the dark corridor, towards the front entrance, his car, and home.