Working the Boss - Working from Home

He said, "Me, too" and licked his lips looking me up and down.

"I want food."

He let out the deep sigh of well-practiced rejection. "What I meant to say was, you look amazing, and so does the house. Did you go to work dressed like that?"

"No, I overstaffed today and stayed home."

"You should have told me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why wouldn't you? Why didn't you?" He was angry about being rejected, and he was angry about being lied to, two nights in a row. It made perfect sense, but I couldn't help getting angry back at him.

"Just because I put on a new dress, and put my hair up, doesn't mean you get to fuck me."

"Fuck you? Since when do you call it fucking? And, speaking of fucking, what the fuck is going on? Last night you say you had some fight with Michelle, but the details are fuzzy. Tonight, she's coming over for drinks. I thought, 'okay, they worked it out,' but then I find out you haven't even seen her. Now I get home and you look gift-wrapped for sex, but I get my head bitten off for touching you!"

I tried to salvage things before it became a full-on screaming match, "I do want to look good for you, but I'm just not in the mood right now. I'm hungry. Maybe later."

That sigh again. Like a breathing exercise for the pathetic. But he wasn't pathetic. He was right, and he knew it. He wandered toward the kitchen to find something for dinner. I opened a bottle of wine and brought a glass over to him. We made dinner together and ate it while watching an episode of Catfish. The tension eased, and the wine flowed. In married speak, the phrase "maybe later" was about a ninety percent guarantee of sex. He looked at me like a piece of meat as the clock slowly turned. After 8:30, when the pre-Michelle sex window had closed, he picked up the pace on his drinking, and he was half in the bag when she knocked on the door.

Jason's sour mood and elevated blood-alcohol level kept him planted firmly in his chair. So, with my heart racing, and my pussy flooding, I went to answer the door alone. My Mistress was normally a few inches taller than me, but her heels made her at least as tall as Jason. She wore a stunning red dress. It was far more formal than the black one I was wearing. Her hair was pulled back, tight and neat, into a ponytail, and she carried a large leather purse that closely resembled a doctor's bag. She looked like a movie villain, designed to intimidate and frighten.

She looked me up and down. The first thing she said was, "Is he frustrated?" I looked at her like a dog that didn't understand its master. Then, I marveled at her skills in manipulating people. I realized that we were supposed to have our argument. He was supposed to be grouchy, horny, and dejected. Fuck, she turned me on. She was like some kind of goddess or evil genius or maybe both.

"Yes, Mistress." My eyes fell to the floor.

"Anything else?"

"I've been touching myself all day, but I haven't cum."

"I can see that. Anything else about Jason?"

"He's getting drunk."

"This will be easy."

We walked into the living room and Jason was extricating himself from his chair. With his back still turned, he said, "Sorry ladies. I think I hit the wine a little too early, and ought to go to bed. Feel free to stay as long as you like." Then he turned around and his eyes bugged at My Mistress's costume. He shook his head as if he were hallucinating.

My Mistress walked straight toward him, pointed at his chair, and ordered, "Sit down, Jason." Her tone was calm and irrefutable. She stepped to the arm of his chair towering over him. He had never seemed so small in all of our years together. "I'm here because I need to discuss something with you."

"With me? What?"

She backed up several feet and looked to me. "Be a good little Slut and eat my pussy."

"Yes, Mistress."

Jason said, "Wait? Hold on" and other things I didn't even hear, as I eagerly sank to my knees and put my head under her dress. She wasn't wearing any underwear. I could tell she was already enjoying her power trip when I started drinking from her flooded pussy.

My tastebuds rolled over her lips, and I realized the sensation of licking her pussy was too wonderful to be trapped in a memory. I thought I remembered. I thought I knew, but my memories of the night before were nothing compared to having her lips around my mouth and her skin under my fingertips. My tongue and nose and eyes weren't any more prepared for the act than they had been the night before. It felt like consuming pure happiness.

I turned my head to the angle that had gotten her off twice the night before. I was proud of my familiarity, my knowledge of how to pleasure her. But her hand gripped my head through her dress and shoved me deeper into her lips. My tongue slipped inside of her, and she let me go. Then, my position was revealed to Jason when she pulled her dress over her head. It disappeared somewhere across the room. She was only wearing a bra and my face. Uncovered, I could hear the conversation more clearly.

"Jason, I would like to introduce you to My Slut. You may have noticed that she is also your wife. Right now, that bulge in your pants is probably thinking this is heading for a threesome, but I want nothing to do with your nasty little dick...Oh, she's hungry tonight, Jason. I've made her wait all day... No, you won't be touching me, but I want you to know that I'm willing to share."

"Willing to share my wife? Fuck you! Emma. Emma, stop."

"No, not your wife, not right now, Jason. This is My Slut." She grabbed my braid, moved my face to her clit, and started grinding into it. I had already realized that none of these motions were about pleasure, just a show of dominance, but I still hoped there was a chance I could make her cum. "Jason, what would have happened if you ordered her to get on her knees and suck your dick? I mean really ordered." His reply was silence. He didn't want to answer. She ground harder into my face. My tongue barely made contact and I feared she would break my nose. "Hmm? I didn't hear you, Jason."

"She would have laughed at me." He sounded powerless. I should have felt sad for him. What I felt instead, was awe for My Mistress. She wasn't trying to break him down or degrade him like me. That wouldn't work on him. She was only making him face reality.

"Slut, crawl over there and suck his dick. Don't look at his face."

She let go of my head, dropping me back onto my heels. I licked my lips and said, "Yes, Mistress."

On my hands and knees, I moved directly toward him staring at the carpet. There wasn't a sound in the room. I could hear the blood flowing in my ears. When I got to him, one of his hands twitched slightly as if to stop me. But, he had been worked up by my outfit for three hours and was drunk to boot. He was incapable of rejecting me. The hand relaxed and I unbuttoned his pants. I pulled down the zipper and he lifted his hips slightly, so I could get his pants down enough to free his half-hard penis. As I put it in my mouth, I wondered if he was looking down at me.

"You see Jason, My Slut will do whatever I tell her to do. And, as I said, I'm willing to share. You get to keep your wife, but I will let you borrow My Slut. How often do you get to stick that thing into your cute little redheaded wife?"

"Uh, I...I don't know." He was flustered and the post I was bobbing up and down on was now turning to stone."

"Would you be able to think of an answer if I made her stop?"

"No! About every six weeks."

"Sometimes longer?"

"Sometimes."

"Anything I tell her to do will turn her on, Jason. What if I started telling her to fuck you once a week and blow you another day? What if her pussy was creaming for you to get home and fill her up with that shit you keep in your balls, because I ordered her to be bent over and ready to take it when you walked in the door?"

"I'd want it."

"Hold on there, Jason. I'm not done. That is only your compensation." I heard her unzip and rummage around in her bag. "Let's talk about mine." His dick began to twitch, and his hands moved to my head. He was getting close. "Stand up, Slut, and remember not to look at him."

I lifted my drool-filled mouth off of him. "Yes, Mistress." As I stood, my tongue tasted like both pussy and dick. I felt so fucking sexy. I turned sideways to avoid looking at him because I couldn't stop smiling.

My Mistress came up behind me. "Put your arms behind your back, Slut."

"Yes, Mistress."

She began to lash my forearms together behind my back. "What I don't want, Jason, is a wife, or a girlfriend. In addition, My Slut wants to keep her husband. You are still the caretaker of her heart and soul." She worked the rope with mindless precision. The rope was soft, but she was making it painfully tight. Having my forearms pulled nearly together behind my back forced my shoulder blades to pull back, freezing me into a position with my chest stuck out and my back arched. "But after tonight, her body, her pussy, her mouth? Those will all be under my care. I will fuck them however I want, whenever I want. In return, along the way, I will also be turning your wife into a nymphomaniac. I'll teach her about the limits of pleasure, and she's going to want it if I'm around or not."

She pulled the straps of my dress over my shoulders and as far down as the ropes would allow, exposing my tits. Then, My Mistress yanked down on the ropes buckling my knees. She gently pushed me forward and used the knots to safely lower my face into the carpet with my ass up. The pain in my arms and shoulders had my pussy begging for attention. It had been begging for a full day. I began to wonder if the pain alone could make me cum.

"Look at him."

I turned my head, on the floor, so I could see Jason. He was trying, poorly, to conceal that he was rubbing his dick under his shirt. At the edge of my vision, I saw My Mistress walk over to her bag and pull out what looked like a pair of bicycle shorts. Once she had them on, I could see there was a hole in the crotch. This confused me until she reached back in and pulled out a dildo that fed it through the hole. I assumed she had brought several and waited to see Jason's dick before choosing one that was just slightly larger than him. What an incredible woman.

"So, here's the deal Jason. I'm going to fuck your wife right here in your living room. I'm going to fuck her rotten. She will be so spoiled on my dick that she'll never be the same again. She will always be at my beck and call. She will drive to my house at 4am to eat my pussy if I want her to, and you will let her go. That is the cost of that new sex life you said you wanted." She got on her knees behind me. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

She flipped my dress up on my pack exposing the lacy black underwear with the hidden cuts. With my panties exposed and tits out, the dress was little more than a black belt. "Are you sure, you understand?"

"Yes." He was now openly masturbating.

She ripped the panties off and threw them. Then, she began rubbing my swollen, sopping wet pussy with the head of her strapon. I wanted to beg for it, but I didn't dare speak out of turn. "Then what do you want me to do, Jason?"

My husband's eyes followed the torn panties across the room, and, for a second, he just looked where they landed. Then his eyes turned back to My Mistress and licked his lips, still tugging on his dick. "I want you to fuck her."

"You want me to fuck your wife, Jason?"

"Fuck her. Fuck her rotten." He was stroking fast and breathing heavily.

I couldn't take it anymore and tried to push back onto the dildo that was teasing my lips, but she backed away then she spanked me before saying, "Calm down, Slut. You'll get your cock when you get it."

"Please," Jason begged (as promised) while frantically stroking and red in the face, "Please just fuck her. She wants it so bad. Give it to her. Give it to her."

The whole length of the dildo slid into me in a single slow stroke and Jason came when I moaned. He sat breathing heavily and looking confused like he had just woken up from a wet dream and didn't know how his lap got covered in cum. He looked at my face and the devilish smile I couldn't wipe off of it while she stroked in and out of me. There was an audible squish every time she filled my oversoaked pussy.

"You like that, Slut?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Her pace was steady and there was a delicious snap to the end of each thrust that popped my ass up and shook my body. She pulled at the bindings on my forearms lifting my face off the carpet. I cried in pain and pleasure. The ache in my back and shoulders had become constant but it was drowned out by the pure joy in my pussy. She moved her hands from the ropes to my braid. The weight of my torso falling snapped my neck back. The braid was taut between us, and she drove on, steady as a metronome, my tits swinging freely. It was already the best dick I'd ever had.

"Does that hurt, Slut?'

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No Mistress."

"Then, tell me what you want."

"I want to cum, Mistress."

She pulled my hair back until I was almost upright "Tell me to fuck you."

"Fuck me, Mistress" She gave one powerful thrust against my g-spot and stopped.

"Tell me again."

"Fuck me." She filled me up and froze. "Fuck me." Another thrust with an audible slap of our hips. "Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me!" Pound, pound, pound, pound. I kept saying it and she kept pounding away behind me. I tried saying it as fast I could. Eventually, I was just saying, "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..." She kept up. She was a machine. I felt one arm wrap around me, her skin gliding over mine until her middle finger found my clit. No more words. I was squealing and screaming. My body flexed. Still, she continued that inhuman pace, her cock driving up and into me. My body froze and I couldn't breathe. Everything felt pressurized. The only thing still moving in the world was My Mistress's heavenly cock. Then I burst. I cried and I came and I squirt a bucket of cum. She was still thrusting, and my cum ran down our bodies to the floor.

It got to be too much, and I said, "Stop, Stop, that's enough."

"Who the fuck are you talking to?" She dropped me to the floor, flat on my stomach. My face was thankful for the thick carpet on impact, but my pussy felt abandoned.

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

She laid her body on my aching cramped arms and entered my still sensitive pussy from above. Then, she whispered in my ear, "Has your limp dick husband ever fucked you like that?"

"No, Mistress."

"And you repay me with disrespect?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

"You will be, believe that, but we'll talk about that later. Right now, I'm not done with you. Don't make the mistake of thinking this is for you. This is for me. I fuck you because I want to." She kept thrusting in from above me, and for the second time in two days, I came lying in a puddle of my own squirt. It was a weak echo of my first, but somehow there were still more fluids I could feel leaking out. My eyes rolled out of focus, and she fucked me. I came and she fucked me. She flipped me over, and she fucked me. I came again and again. She cut my ropes off, but it was only to provide more angles and positions.

Somewhere in the double digits of orgasms, my brain was only capable of feeling pleasure. My pussy sang the constant praises of the pounding I was taking, but there was so much more. Her hands on my skin was pleasure. The air entering and exiting my body was pleasure. The dull ache in my arms, the textures of the carpet the couch and the window, even the beating of my heart was pleasure. And all of them made me cum, over and over and over again. There was no shame or pride or pain or comfort as I was flipped and fucked all over my living room. Just pleasure.

The orgasms piled on top of each other. I would cum for several minutes straight then a new position, a new angle, or a new lube. Oh the lubes, I had no idea. Some of them made heat until my pussy was an oven. Others made it tingle or tense or relax. Like every position, they were all heaven. My pleasure only brain had no sense of time or space. It didn't matter if I was folded up like a pretzel or laying across Jason's lap. All that mattered was that she fucked me for the rest of eternity, sailing on my endless river of orgasms.

I have no idea how long it lasted. At the end, I lay on my coffee table with my arms hanging off the sides, a puddle of a woman. A lifetime's worth of orgasms rippled through my limp body and my brain was drowned in a sea of endorphins. My Mistress took off the shorts and threw the slick dildo into Jason's lap. He paused for a moment, examining the implement of my destruction, and said, "I can't compete with that."

"You still don't get it. You don't have to, Jason. She loves you. I could take her from you, believe me, I could. But she would only be happy when I was fucking her or letting her eat my pussy. The rest of the time she'd be a miserable bitch. I'm not wife material. She doesn't need this from you, but, with my help, she can give this to you."

"So, what now?"

"I'm going to take her home tonight and drive her to work in the morning. She's been a good Slut, and now her Mistress needs to take care of her."

"I can take care of her."

"Jason, even she doesn't know what she needs right now. If you want to help, go get her a change of clothes."

She produced a small towel to wipe the sweat from her skin. After that, My Mistress pulled on her red dress and instantly looked as fresh as when she had arrived. Jason and I, meanwhile, looked like we just survived a car crash. I still hadn't found the strength to get off the table. Michelle reached in the bag and pulled out a silk robe. She helped me up and wrapped me in it. Then, we sat side by side on the couch with her arms around me and my head laying on her chest. Jason walked into the bedroom to pack a bag for me. When he returned, Michelle said, "Ready to go, Boss?"

I laughed weakly, still feeling the spasms in my stomach, and we walked out to her car together. At her apartment, she laid me naked in her bed and massaged my arms and back until well after I was asleep. She used hydrating lotions and rubbed some kind of ointment into my labia. At work the next day, I was in charge, and Michelle did her tasks without question. I did try to eat My Mistress's pussy during our lunch break, but she said I had to earn it by getting Jason off before we got home. So, I spent the afternoon impatiently waiting to suck his dick in the car. I immediately called her and told her what a good Little Slut I had been, and she had me hand the phone to Jason. He changed direction and drove me to her building. Once there, he was told to wait in the parking lot.

So, that's why I'm here now, lapping at this woman's pussy while my husband waits for me downstairs. I am a wife, a friend, a boss, and a bisexual submissive slut. For the first time in my life, I am the complete version of myself. I dismissed the reality of my attractions and desires for far too long. My submission has set me free.