The Teamviewer Mature Files

I added this to my typing: It'd be best to just call me Joe, from now on. We need to build together, now that I'm going to do your books. Maybe not so much playing domme and sub, I suggest. Just an issue of professionalism in the different arena where people might notice, I mean. I'm excited about the new relationship.

Shoot, maybe I'd find a way to rob her back for enough cash to pay for what I'd lost. She'd never know it with the gains she'd see from my better work for her flower business, assuming her business was as brisk as she'd let on. I was a CPA, after all. They practically trained us in how to spin a little off the top of the books, make money from how things are accounted, and for the most part be legal, or at least grey enough that nobody could hold anyone accountable, particularly if all concerned got rich. One percent of a hundred ten percent deal was a fair cut that nobody cared to notice. We'd call it a survey underwriter tax and boom: smoke.

"I know someone who can do basic accounting. I can get another guy into one of those two-month courses," she said. "You're the CPA. All you need are people to do a reasonable job with entry and juggling what you've set up, under your direction, right, Joe?"

She called me JOE! I realized that I'd actually taken a full breath for the first time in weeks. "Yes Ma'am. We can do good business together," I said into the mic. It was a nightmare building a big company, like she proposed, but the Teamviewer disaster had gotten all-consuming, to the point where I'd imagined no end likely but some kind of guttural doom. Now I felt almost free. In fact, why hadn't I thought of going bigger first. With a couple of low-pay assistants, I could easily triple my income and be back to where I'd been financially in half a year.

I giggled.

"What's going on, Joe?" Linda asked.

"I'm just excited about taking on your account, Linda." It was like sitting there in a pink chair, chatting in nothing more than panties—bulging with a chastity device—and a bra wasn't even part of the picture.

"Well, in that case, I'm excited too. We can really make something expand here, together, with my account and the two new people I'm sending over. You should consider cleaning out the whole basement. Just leave like ten percent. If the dumpster gets too full, just let me know and I'll have them bring a second one. You can finish up while the computer guy is working. Instead of a house, it can be more like a place of business, until we expand, like you suggested."

"Perfect."

"Good. You might as well get busy. And," She laughed. "you can put on that one pair of pants and shirt I let you keep. You'll obviously be going in and out a lot. You'll have to settle for the pink sneakers, though." She laughed again, though it didn't sound scoffing, more like she felt as much of a relief to be done with the mistress thing as I felt.

What the hell. New leaf. I'd get the house so cleared out from under the old crap, I'd have to buy myself new furniture and home entertainment center and maybe that big house that was a lot over, to put it in. Once I got rich enough, who knows: Maybe I could bring in a hooker every week and really live it up. We'd even play S&M on occasion, though without that crazy Teamviewer shit to fuck it up.

Oh hell, now I felt jaded. I really wasn't like that. I was a simpler person and not into hookers, really. I could use a date with a real woman who wasn't all fantasy and leather, though, particularly after my hair grew out a little. Other than on my head, where it was really getting long.

###

"So this is the setup. One house about to be mostly an office, I see," the tech said. "You look like you're in the middle of a complete cleanout." He sounded like he had a Jamaican accent. Tall, thirties, plain blue shirt.

I paused for a breath. "Out with the old, in with the...." I'd been hauling boxes to the dumpster all morning long. Even good things were going, in my commitment to start fresh after my brush with disaster engaged in that Teamviewer mistake.

And, the computer tech was late. "Do you think you can get everything done by the end of the day, or will you be back tomorrow?" I asked.

"Let me see your breaker panel before I answer that."

Breaker panel? "Sure." I led him through the dining room and kitchen and into the pantry. I opened the breaker panel.

"Oh,that's good. You have three slots in a row. From what I saw of the rooms we were going for, that's mostly a straight shot through this wall and over the one room to the next. Piece of cake."

There came a knock on the front door. "Excuse me," I said.

An older white man in his seventies stepped in. He looked a bit haggard, but asked, "Mr. Anderson? I'm the electrician with the new panel."

"Um?"

"New computer installs, I hear. Usually people gang up about fifty strips before they get smart about it. Sometimes they burn down the house."

"How much work is—"

"Till it's done." He sighed. "Maybe before supper."

Right behind him came the furniture people, apparently three more Jamaicans. They called the two vacant bedrooms first. All that was left in either of the rooms were my two computers. The tech took them into the dining room and set up on the table.

"I'll need the passwords to set these up on the new servers."

I almost lost my cookies while thinking about giving him the password to my main computer. Worse, looking at the humiliating screen on the computer Mistress Linda had conquered was mortifying.

Apparently he noticed my red face. "Hey," he shifted to a whisper. "I know about Linda. She's used our services a few times. That lady can get out of hand, and there are more of you submissive white men then you think."

"Really?" I was maybe even more shocked.

"Town's full of you guys. I can't believe you white folk invented slavery, the way you get into these messes."

I bit my tongue and considered passing out. Here was this lean but muscular black dude at least ten years younger than me, knowing my dirty laundry. If I'd been a bug, I'd have found a crack to crawl into. I had to say something. "Well, sorry about that slavery thing. I'd have been on the North's side, if that helps."

He kept a stern face, more than likely he noticed my discomfort: "Just fucking with you." He smiled huge. "This is the first time she's used me to set up an accounting firm." He amended that: "Not that I've not put computers in for accounting people. I mean, the kinky stuff being like a referral for that particular clientele...." He paused a moment in thought. "I'm putting my foot in it. Just don't worry, dude. All that other stuff is just sex. You should see what I have on my computer." His eyes wiggled. "Everyone does it, even the brothers." He winked a couple times. "This is an accounting firm, right?" He stood a little straighter and asked again. "I'm doing an accounting firm? I don't care what you do in your down time, my man."

I nodded after that speech. "Yes. Thank you," I said maybe a little too loudly.

"Welcome, my friend. Now, you'll have to give me the passwords for the accounting computer. Which one is that? Or is it both?"

"That one!" I pointed to the server.

He mumbled, "I'm doing an accounting firm." He pointed to the convenient counter in the dining room, where there was now plenty of space. As he pointed left to right, he said, "Server two, client one, client two, client three, backup three and client four combo in the last unit. I'm a professional... or do you think black people can't be professional and are only into that cuckold Mandingo crap?"

I was mortified that he'd think I was that kind of person. "No, sir. It's just the other thing that has me rattled. My moments of weakness, I mean."

He chortled. "I'm trying to forget the extra-curricular stuff, at least during this job.... If it's alright with you?"

I felt foolish and nodded. What was the matter with me? Any accountant in his right mind would be impressed by a whole new network on the level the man was making. At a discount, I hoped.

"By the way, the phone company will have you disconnected this afternoon for a faster connection. They take about an hour and work outside. All the pipes have to be the right size, if you're five, six, whatever, computers instead of one. I aimed at five times the capacity we're putting in today, just for overhead."

Seemed like he had a handle on it. "Uh... all this costs—"

"Discount. Half price, me, half price furniture guys. Whole deal under ten grand, including the phone company. The furniture guys do what looks like custom work, but it's really out of the box and a couple desks sawed off at the end unit when the last desk doesn't quite fit. Everything fit like a glove in the last office I saw them do. You buy custom, you're an idiot. New fans for the attic vent, as well. Honestly, I don't know anyone who does it a quarter the price we're into today. Lucky you, meeting Linda."

I felt a little bit of relief. Ten grand? Shit. That was nothing for professional furniture.

The computer dude looked at the old man dragging in a circuit box. "The electrician is a steal." He cupped his hand and breathed the next words with half a chuckle: "One of hers. She pays cost on the equipment, most of which is left over from some previous job. Then she charges him fifty bucks to work. Otherwise he'd break even. The old man loves being used like that; can you believe some white folk?" Then he wiggled his eyebrows, shook his head as if it was beyond belief. He capped it off with a wink. "You get a better deal than that, and I eat my shorts. It was actually your lucky day when a guy like you found that woman. Linda's a pill, but she has good business savvy, often making something out of nothing."

"Shit."

"Later this week the fire protection and OSHA sign guy will make a visit; just so you know. For now, just finish what you're doing in the basement and get the hell out of the way," He chuckled. "Let us do what we do best, A, B, C." He winked again. Maybe it was a habit.

###

Mistress had sent me Debbie. She actually had an undergrad degree in accounting. Dolly had been enrolled in school the previous week, apparently at the insistence of Linda. The community college had a six month course in the discipline, no frills. Betty Boobs was starting next week and making up for the two weeks she missed by home-studying our system with my online tutorial help. That gave me one accountant, two dada entry girls and a ton of work.

Besides training everyone, I had new computers to manage and three new huge accounts, the combination bigger than my previous workload. Starting an account was always ten times the work of managing one, necessitating me going to each office, two were the next state over and the other a few miles down the road. Once a week I drove out to them all, drove back, and checked on the new data entry gurls, all in the course of one long day.

Working with men who were obviously wearing feminine undergarments and introducing themselves with female names was odd (they did provide male names for employee purposes), but I found it impossible to even comment on that issue. Linda had obviously found them from within her group of "associates", explaining the forced lisps and showing undergarments. God forbid they should make mention of my similar secrets, after all. It was like the unwritten secret that we not say much about it.

How are the new gurls working out, Joe, Mistress Linda wrote in a text box on my management computer one day while I was just sitting there un-fogging after sending everyone home after another twelve hour day. The two understudies had actually moved into town and were living in the same apartment.

Shit! I'd had no idea, up until then, that she had the ability to ride right up on the company mainframe and poke into my computer like that. She was in, bigtime. When my heart settled enough for my fingers to work, I typed: They seem motivated.

Her face came up, filling the whole screen. She was at a desk in what might have been a bedroom. A photo of a muscular man holding a football was affixed to the flowerily patterned wall. "Oh, they're motivated, alright. I found Dolly and Betty basically on the unemployment line. They thought contacting a computer mistress was acceptable without money. Like I do this for free...." She laughed. "Well, come to think of it, maybe they were right, given I did take them on without them paying me a dime," she said into the microphone.

I asked into my microphone, which I assumed to be on the new speaker, "You previously knew these people as clients?" Not that I hadn't suspected, based upon their undergarments and demeanors. Apparently Mistress had commanded them to not make further mention.

"Well, so far, Debbie, Amy and Betty are the only Teamviewer slaves in your area with accounting potential. Usually I don't take slaves who are poor, but it can pay off. I mean, I hire people who are unemployed for my flower company. Nobody thinks that is strange."

"Point taken."

"Are we making money, yet?"

"Not yet broken even, but after the first month..." I considered hedging it a bit, and did. "...I should double what I was making before the upgrade and new business. I'm paying a hell of a lot of overtime and training, at the moment, getting things off the ground."

"Debbie's going to be even more help, soon. His wife just found out about his... nastiness."

"What do you mean?"

"Having an internet Mistress is the same thing as cheating, Joe. Even I know that."

I swallowed. At least I was single and hadn't resorted to that.

"Out on his ear before the night is done, I suspect." She glared at me through the screen, obviously seeing my reaction on the cameras that were still lit all over the house. "Don't look at me, like that. I'm not the one meeting internet mistresses on Teamviewer, all hours of the night. You guys deserve what you get."

"What's he going to do?"

"I suppose she can stay there with you, don't you think? You gurly gurls ought to get along. You have so much in common."

"Well, I don't know. I have—"

"That extra bed in your room, a nice living room and dining room. The basement is almost empty. I hear the enclosed back porch is precious. Damn, Joe, have a heart. She is your best employee."

She? This was the most awkward business relationship ever.

But, since we were on the subject, I had to ask, "Do you mind if I take the chastity thing off? I have a hacksaw if you lost the key." I'd been masturbating with it on, which was possible, but not all that fulfilling. Also, the tube running up my pee hole felt weird as an ice pick up my ass. Sometimes I managed to forget about it, but not for more than two minutes at a time. It was like I was being fucked up a tiny vagina by a straw, 24/7. I had to pee twenty times a day, too, because the thing being in there like that made half the muscles that kept me from incontinently pissing myself useless.

"Not right away. First we have some business to discuss. To start with, I'm sending you my flower business accounting firm data next week, like we mentioned."

I swallowed, already having expected as much. What was the workload of one more little account after all? Shoot, with that data, maybe I'd have something on her, for a change. "Okay."

"I have an accountant of my own, just out of public college. Tosha is my sister and has been working in a tiny office. I figured she can run back and forth until she gets set up over there in your expanding office. She'll have to move to someplace close, but that ought to make things easier on her, most of the time. I might add an assistant for her for running around, too. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Joe. Who knows where this will lead under your CPA license."

Where was I going to station this woman? I supposed we could put a computer and desk in the other empty bedroom. Soon the whole house would be like an office. So far I'd been taking up the bigger station and a desk beside that to do my work, having the others sit along the wall at the workstations there. Thank god for the good air conditioning in the big former bedroom. If the computer guy had thought of a second room earlier, we'd already be set up with extra outlets. So, I mentioned that.

"Excellent idea, Joe. I'll send him right over."

"We're going to need a parking lot." And that house that was for sale next door.

"Good catch. Don't worry. I have a fix. Did you mention that the house next door is for sale?"

Had she been reading my mind? "Uh, yes."

"Good. You should arrange a bid. We'll work on that, later. Obviously this one is set up as a business. Good thing your master bedroom is huge. I'll have Tosha look into things when she arrives. She's also bringing some contracts."

Bringing contracts? I suppose my face kind of froze and maybe turned pasty.

Again she read my mind. "To establish the business relationship. Obviously I have an investment. You weren't planning on cheating me out of our partnership, were you Joe? God, Joe, I've done almost everything."

Well, actually she'd made lots of the arrangements and called in all the contractors, but I was the CPA and had the accounts, and it was my house. Also I'd actually paid for everything out of my resources, even if they were at discount. My bank account was already half what it had been, though the investment was outstanding. If things kept up I'd be passing seven figures of revenues in months. Alright, fair was fair, up to something reasonable. Ten percent and her accounting for free might do it. Then let's see her ruin me. No way would she want to blemish the head of a company she made ten percent off. That could be huge money.

I smiled and nodded.

"Good. The contractors and Tosha will be there tomorrow morning."

"About the chastity thing, I—"

"You're going to be way too busy to be playing with yourself tonight, Joe, what with Tosha and the contractor, and who knows when Debbie Dumbass is likely to be banging on your door. Any second, is my guess."

Debbie has a Last name?

On the heels of that thought, the doorbell rang.

"See what I mean. Catch you later, Sissybitch."

The screen went blank. Then, a second later the screen wallpaper changed to a shimmering gif picture of Mistress Linda wagging a finger at me from all the accounting computers in the room. Shit! She was into all my computers and files, now. Before it'd only been my personal computer, which, incidentally, the computer guy had taken along with the other one, after saying he'd wiped them clean. Was this another disaster?

I went to the door, propelled by weak knees and the continual pain in my groin from where the chastity device's penis tube was probing my bladder like that wagging finger on the screens.

"I had an issue with my wife and, uh, well, Linda suggested...."

I stepped aside so Mr. Debbie could walk in with his/her suitcase. There was a bra strap hanging out, suggesting he/she'd packed in haste and maybe had help from his wife in the selection of things she wanted out of their house forever. He was wearing lady's flats.

Teamviewer Femdom File

By jo199

Chapter Five.

Finally, all the workers cleared the premises. I told my accountants to go get something to eat and maybe catch a movie. It'd been a long day, and I needed some space.

Tosha had spent the day fiddling with her new office furniture, stuffing the drawers and filling up the closet. Apparently the entire bedroom was now her office. The girl looked wet behind the ears, maybe days out of college with her business degree in accounting. Apparently she was going for her CPA license online, though.

Not that she wasn't attractive, though fifty pounds overweight and with that short haircut black women sometimes preferred instead of having to do so much to make it manageable.