Man is blackmailed into becoming his bosss sex slave

femdom, female boss, male submission, female dominant, humiliation, dominant female boss, office, workplace, rimming,

Things had been getting difficult at work lately. The open planned office was awash with fear. Ten people were made to go last week; the general consensus was that more would be following. It was such bad timing - I'd only recently bought my house. At twenty eight, I thought I was doing ok. I had some savings and I knew I couldn't stay at my mother's for the rest of my life; then, the week after moving in, the boss came with the news that we had to get rid of some of the staff. What made it worse was the look on her face: she looked like she was getting a kick out of telling people the gloomy situation.

I never had many dealings with the boss, she was either abroad or out seeing clients, but people had told me she ruled with an iron fist; she took no prisoners -- as I was to find out.

I was attracted to her. I think she was thirty nine, the last time someone told me. She was quite tall, maybe five foot ten, and a perfect size: not too skinny. She had long and thick black hair and a strong, round face, with these piercing blue eyes; one look from them could either kill you, or excite you. She always power dressed, usually something in black; always boots, and sometimes patented ones if she felt daring; varying length of short skirts, black sheen stockings, and usually a tight fitting blouse covering her well talked about tits, and Jesus, they were talked about; how she managed to fit them in that blouse was a mystery.

Then, one dull uneventful day, she walked out of her office looking amazing. She decided to do away with the stockings and went bare legged. She thought it appropriate to wear a brand new pair of black patented boots that looked very expensive and matched her black satin miniskirt -- revealing more leg than usual; you could see she was getting off on it. The whole look was finished off with the usual tight white blouse.

"Gather round everyone," she ordered.

Immediately, I knew this was going to be bad.

"As you are aware, more redundancies have to be made," she paused, "this is something very hard for us all, but after much thought the following people will be leaving us."

She read out a list of ten names, and stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief when my name wasn't one of them; however, she hadn't finished.

"Also, we have to get rid of one of the IT tech's posts, but this will happen in three months time when the new infrastructure has been put in place."

I couldn't believe it. My stomach felt sick.

"I will talk to the IT guys this afternoon to tell them of their options," she continued -- then turned around and calmly walked back to her office.

That afternoon, four of my work mates had already been in her office, two were quite some time, while the other two were straight in and out. There was a ten minute wait after the last person in had left, but then Gill, the bosses PA came over to ask me to see her.

I walked towards her office; the full length glass walls had the blinds closed behind them. I nervously knocked on her door.

"Come in Simon," she said softly -- which surprised me.

I entered the office, closing the door behind me. She was sitting on the leather sofa at the side of the office, instead of behind her desk, with one leg crossed over the other and holding her glasses in place as she read a file.

"Sit down," she ordered.

I sat on the chair about four yards in front of her, that had obviously been placed there for this sole purpose.

"So, Simon," she started, "there are five of you, and one will be leaving us in three months. How do you feel about that?"

"It's a shame any of us have to go Ms Jones, but I certainly hope it's not me, especially just after buying a house."

She dipped her head and her eyes looked at me above the frames of her black rimmed glasses. She stared for about ten seconds; it felt awful.

"I see," she replied, putting down her file and sitting up straight to face me, "hmmm."

She looked at me some more. Up and down, from toe to head, and from head to toe, then put her index finger against her bottom lip.

"It doesn't have to be you that goes, does it?" she reassured.

She stood up and walked to her desk, bending over to place her file on the top. She noticed me looking at her arse packed tight in her shiny black miniskirt.

She stood straight and faced me once more.

"I could promise to let you keep your job. How would you feel about that?" she asked.

"I'd love to Ms Jones, I'd love to."

"Good, let's see how much you want it," she said grinning, "lock the door."

I walked over to the door and turned the lock.

"Strip for me," I thought she said.

"What?"

"Strip, for, me," she said again.

I was at a loss at this moment. She sat back down on the sofa and crossed her legs again.

"I'm not going to say it again Simon," she said, wide eyed.

I thought about the possible negative impact of all of this, but also the possible benefits; I mean, she's unbelievably sexy, and I'm not that bad, but the thought of how this could all pan out for me made me feel very insecure about the whole thing.

I twiddled half-heartedly with my tie, and gulped.

My tie fell to the floor, resulting in Ms Jones' face lightening up with an appreciative smile. She sat back and folded her arms. I started undoing the shirt when she said:

"Just leave it undone, don't take it off."

I did as she said, and slowly kicked off my slip-on shoes.

"Socks off before the trousers," she ordered.

I did as she said without questions. Her smile grew as I started to get to the main area.

I hesitated with my trouser's belt; she looked at me intensely -- her eyes looking above her glasses, again. God it was a sexy look. I undid the belt and quickly unfastened my trousers before reason and sensibility kicked in; they fell to the floor.

"Mmmmmm," she said, looking me up and down, as I stood in my opened shirt, with my trousers to my ankles and my black lycra short shorts covering the crown Jewels.

"Take everything off except the shorts, stud," she said, adjusting her position on the sofa once more.

I did as she requested. I wasn't hard; I think I was too scared; but it was something she noticed straight away.

"I'm sitting here in front of you, and your cock is soft?" she said questioningly, "that is not good."

I wasn't sure what to do, so I started rubbing my cock through the shorts. I focused on her boots, and then her thighs, then that sexy black satin skirt; it didn't take long to get the blood pumping to my shaft. Ms Jones looked into my eyes and smiled as if she achieved something.

After a minute or so, my cock was rock hard in my shorts. The lump sticking out was comical, although laughing was the last thing I had on my mind at this time.

"Stand to the side," she said.

I did as she asked; arching my back a little to emphasise my eight inches of squashed up muscle.

"Very good." she said, leaning back and clapping her hands softly, "you're getting the hang of this."

I stood there, my dick poking at an angle in my shorts, not knowing what to do next. I turned to face her.

"Did I fucking say you could move from that position," she said, loud, but not loud enough to spook anyone outside of the room.

I immediately jumped back into my prior position.

"Very good," she commented, "now face me and drop the shorts to your knees."

I jumped back to face and hurriedly pulled my shorts to my knees, my cock forcing it's self out as I did so.

"Oh wow, Ms Jones likes!" she said, looking at my slightly upward curved uncut cock - so hard; the skin had rolled it's self completely behind the pulsing head.

Presently, I was awash with a mix of emotions: I was so turned on, yet fully aware I was being exploited -- with potentially huge consequences. But, at this moment, I was actually enjoying being Ms Jones' sex puppet.

"Ok, take them off and turn around," she ordered.

I quickly did as she said.

"Spread your legs as far as you can, and grab your ankles, keeping your legs straight," she continued.

I did as she told me, without question; feeling my arsehole exposed. I actually started to feel dirty -- not the place I wanted to be.

"I can see your arsehole Simon, tell me, how many people have seen your arsehole?" she teased.

"Errrm, no one," I replied, knowing full well even with my sexual naivety, a girl wasn't interested in my anus.

Ms Jones clapped softly again, full of excitement.

"Oh my, oh my... I fucking love this. Me and you Simon... we're going to get on like a house on fire. You do as I say, and we're all happy," she stated, "now spread your arse cheeks for me."

I hesitate slightly, but then realised - it certainly wasn't going to stain my name anymore than it had already been stained in the last few minutes - I grabbed my arse cheeks, still bending over, and pulled them apart.

"Good boy... now turn and face me again."

She could see I looked uncomfortable, this pleased her even more.

"Wank!" she said.

I hesitated, briefly, then grabbed my cock and started pumping it. Ms Jones' face turned to picture of concentration: staring at my hand stroking my solid cock. She moved her hand towards her groin, automatically, then swiftly placed it on her knee -- as if she meant to do that in the first place; it was obvious she was really turned on.

She quickly stood up and walked to her desk; I looked at her shiny boots as she walked, helping my cause; she picked up a thick looking elastic band.

"put this round the base of your cock 3 times," she demanded, as she tossed it to me.

I caught the elastic band and looked straight back to Ms Jones.

"How the..." I started to say, before realising there would be no conversation about it.

The elastic band wasn't particularly long, and it certainly wasn't very flexible; but I did as she said... sort of.

I put it over my cock, trying to work out how I could engineer it in the fashion she demanded. I kept it just below the head of my dick and twisted it, pulling it over my cock once more; it was now wrapped around twice -- and it wasn't loose. I looked to Ms Jones, whose facial impression didn't budge, and then I pulled it and twisted it again -- pulling it over my cock for a second time. It was now wrapped over 3 times, and incredibly tight. I gently rolled it down to the base of my shaft -- felling somewhat distressed.

After just a few seconds, the vanes of my cock pulsed out from the skin; the head of my dick slowly turned to a darker shade of purple, and the whole shaft twitching like it had a heart beat of its own. This seriously impressed Ms Jones; she looked at me so wide-eyed, smiling with a hint of disbelief.

"Now wank it!" she ordered.

I went back to stroking my cock; this time with more urgency to cum: I could feel the circulation dying. I wanked hard and fast, looking at Ms Jones. The fact that I was looking at her while wanking was obviously tuning her on: she couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds.

My breath started to get shallow, and I could feel my balls tightening -- the obvious sign that I was due to cum in a minute or so. But Ms Jones wasn't quite finished:

"Ok, stop!"

"Ms, please, I need to take this elastic band off," I begged.

"You'll do as I say," she replied.

"Please Ms, I'll do something else, just let me take it off, it's starting to stop the circulation," I pleaded.

"Oh, I see, you'll do something else eh? Please elaborate"

"I dunno, please, anything let me take it off."

"Anything?"

"Yes!" I pleaded.

"Mmmm, ok, take it off."

I tried to roll it off, failing miserably. Ms Jones laughed at my predicament.

"For fucks sake, get the scissors on my desk," she said.

I moved to her desk, and cut off the band -- doubling up in relief as the pressure relieved.

"Now... you said anything, right?" she asked.

The things people say to get out of an unpleased moment! I bowed my head in disbelief at my own words. At that moment id have done anything, but that moment had gone, and now I had to live up to the consequences.

Ms Jones stood up - her face gleaming with excitement. She walked passed me towards a black leather arm chair at the opposite side of the room from where she had just been sitting. When she got next to the chair, her back towards me, she squeezed her black satin skirt up passed her arse and quickly dropped her immaculate looking shiny white almost-thong like panties; stepping out of them when they fell to floor.

As she opened her legs wider, keeping them straight, and bent over, with her hands resting on the arms of the chair, she said:

"Lick it."

Her bare arse was staring at me; or rather, I was staring at her bare arse. It was firm, yet plentiful, and no tan lines were visible - the subtle sun colouring of her legs blended in seamlessly.

At that point, I wasn't fully sure what she wanted me to lick; I was sincerely hoping it was her pussy. It all became clear when her two hands removed themselves from the armchair and caressed her arse cheeks before pulling them apart.

"Please don't make me repeat myself," she said disappointingly.

I walked over and knelt on the floor; my knees touching the heels of her boots. Her hands went back to resting on the arm chair, and her arsehole became covered by her cheeks once more. I hesitated briefly, then placed my hands on her arse-cheeks and opened them up -- her hole was staring once more; but this time I could smell it.

I gathered my bearings and closed my eyes before gently placing my tongue around her pink ring. The taste was pungent and struck me quickly. She let out a pleasurable sigh; I could feel her body relaxing as my tongue massaged her shit-hole.

"Wider," she demanded.

I opened her cheeks as wide as I could -- her hole opening more as I did.

"Deeper, bitch!" she ordered.

I rammed my tongue into her arsehole as deep as I could; the smell was even stronger now, almost making me gag. If it wasn't for the fact that she was obviously enjoying it so much, with her sighs and slight movements, I'd have surely stopped and given up.

"Baby, this is so good," she gasped, as she slightly adjusted her stance, allowing her hand to more comfortably reach her pussy, "my own personal arse licker."

At that point, there was a knock on the door.

I tensed up, wondering what to do.

"I'm busy," she screamed, "Come back later."

The door handle rattled.

"What the fuck," she said out loud in disbelief, still bent over.

"Ms Jones, It's Frank here," the deep voice said.

Frank was the regional Chief Exec.

Ms Jones, stood up and pulled her skirt down over her arse. She looked around and pointed to under her desk, the front of which was covered down to the floor. She pointed to my clothes, and I collected them and hid under the desk as she ordered.

"Frank, sorry," she said as she opened the door, "it's been a stressful day; I've just laid off quite a few people. I had to do some yoga to calm down and get my focus back."

"Very well, errm, your PA said you had someone in here with you," he replied,

"No, no, just me; I finished the one-on-ones a while ago."

She sat down on her desk chair and pulled it into the desk; her boots kicking me in the process. It was obviously accidental at first, but she was obviously enjoying the following few firm prods of the toe of her boots into my naked skin.

Ms Jones and Frank must have talked for a good fifteen minutes about the most boring of business subjects. My body was aching in the position it had been forced in -- squashed up, on my hands and knees. On numerous occasions I nearly just got up and finished that whole charade - but common sense got the better of me, and besides, I was getting like my predicament before Frank turned up.

Not long afterwards, Frank left and closed the door behind him. Ms Jones wheeled her chair back a yard or so and said:

"Come out. Come out, wherever you are."

I crawled out from under the desk on all fours.

"Good -- just how I like my men to come to me."

I'd just fully emerged from my hiding place when she said:

"Now stay there. Turn to the side."

I did as she told me and she wheeled her chair closer towards me and sat back in her chair and put both her boots on my back.

"Excellent! You're a good good boy," she said, unable to hold her giggling, "Now get up."

She moved her boots from my back and I jumped to a standing position.

"Get on my desk and kneel up straight, facing me," she ordered.

I moved her laptop and another few objects and climbed on to the hard wooden surface -- kneeling towards her as she had asked.

"Why isn't your cock hard?" she said, her face tightening, "how dare you look at me without being sexually aroused. Fix it!"

I started stroking my cock - pulling the foreskin all the way back and pulling it forward again. I focused on her boots, then her shapely thighs, her tight black satin skirt hugging her crotch, and then her ample breasts attempting to force their way out of her blouse. It wasn't long before I had a full erection.

"Cum for me. Shoot it. I want no dripping, I want lots of distance. If you reach me you get a reward."

I focused on every different part of Ms Jones while tugging my cock. It felt great. At that moment in time I'd have done anything for that goddess.

I felt my balls tightening; Ms Jones noticed them, and did the subtle adjustment in her seat that I had become accustomed to. My knees started to inch in uncontrolled directions; my back started to arch - the cum was building up. I looked into Ms Jones' eyes, and she smiled -- a loving smile. The cum shot through my cock and out of the pulsing purple end; the first shot landing to the right of her boot, the next on her knee and upper boot, then on her white satin shirt; the following spurts petered out and fell on the floor.

Ms Jones was in a state of awe and excitement at that moment. Her eyes wide and alive; her tongue unconsciously licking her lips.

"Fuck!" she said, disbelieving what she had just encountered, "holy fuck."

I was still getting my head together at that point; I had cum hard and felt dizzy with it. She wiped the cum on her tits with her index finger, and let it hung in front of her eyes.

"Come here," she ordered.

I got of the desk and moved over to her.

"On your knees," she said, surprisingly softly.

Got on my knees.

"Hands behind your back," she continued.

She moved her cum covered finger towards me face and pulled an assuming expression. I opened my mouth and put it around her finger -- sucking my cum off it.

"Don't swallow it," she asked gently, as she felt my hair with her other hand, "Now get the rest of my knee and boot."

I took a kneeling step backwards and started licking my cum from the top of her boot, followed by her knee.

"Good boy," she commented, "now swallow."

I stopped for a brief moment, and then closed my eyes and swallowed my sticky salty spunk, coughing as I did. Ms Jones laughed and smiled at me:

"Good... good. Now get dressed."

I was just fastening my shoes when Ms Jones, who'd watched me get dressed, said:

"Babe, I will guarantee that job is yours for a long time. What do you think?"

"Yes, please. That would be great," I replied, hysterically.

"All you have to do is be my... errrrm... sex slave a couple times a week. Ok?"

I think my reply of yes was far too quick of a response.
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