Dominance in the Workplace

Dominance in the Workplace

 My story began a little over two years ago, the day I met the woman who would become my owner.

We worked in the same building and I would see her coming and going.  I thought then, as I think now, that she was the most beautiful, desirable woman that I’d ever seen.  I longed to talk to her but whenever the opportunity arose, I hesitated.  I had always been so confident and self-assured around other women, but there was something about her that intimidated me.

I wondered if she was aware of my interest, or even of my existence.  All that changed one day when we encountered one another in the stairwell.

I always take the stairs because it keeps me in shape.  I rarely encountered anyone else, but this time was different. 

I ran up the stairs two at a time, and as I bounded onto the third floor landing and swung around onto the next flight of stairs, there she was, a step or two above me.  I tried to stop but my momentum carried me forward, and I bumped into her, knocking her file folders out of her hands and scattering them on the landing. 

Dominance

I looked up, startled.  She stood perfectly still, with a little smirk on her face.  Slowly, she crossed her arms.  “Well? she said.

“Gee, I’m sorry,” I said.  “I didn’t see you.” 

She remained a step or two above me, looking down. She seemed to tower over me. “Pick them up,” she said.

 Something told me that it would be unwise to disobey.  I bent down on one knee and gathered them up.  She didn’t lift a finger to help, she just waited, arms crossed, until I’d collected them all.  I then turned to hand her the bunch of papers, but she didn’t reach out to take them, she just stood there looking down at me.  There was something about that look, something superior and commanding.  I had never felt that kind of power from a woman before, never felt so small and insignificant.  I could only mumble, “I really am sorry.”

She pushed past me. “Follow me,” she ordered, “and bring those papers with you.” She stepped down onto the landing, and I reached out and held the door for her.  She exited the stairwell, and I followed meekly behind her, not sure what was going on.  All I knew was that I was compelled by something deep within me to follow her.  We proceed toward the end of the hallway.  She walked at a brisk pace, and I trailed after her.  It was clear that she expected me to remain a step or two behind. 

 When we arrived at a the last door on the left, she stopped and waited while I scurried around and opened the door for her.  She proceeded into the office, past an empty receptionist’s desk and into her office, where she sat down.  I stood in front of her desk.  She didn’t invite me to sit down.

I reached out to hand her the papers but she didn’t take them.  “Put them on the desk,” she said.  I placed them in front of her and remained standing.  I stood there nervously, feeling that I should leave but waiting, as if I needed her permission to leave. 

She didn’t give it.  She sat looking at me, as if she were sizing me up.  She was in complete control.  I never felt so nervous.  She finally spoke.  “You seem very…compliant, very eager to please. ” 

I didn’t know what to say.  “Well,”  I began, “I’m not sure what you mean. I…”

“Are you,” she interrupted, “compliant and eager to please?”  I’d never before been confronted by a woman as she confronted me then.  “Well,” she said, “I’m waiting for your answer.”

I gulped.  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“Yes, what?” she demanded.

Yes, I am compliant and eager to please, Ma’am,”  I replied.

 “Show me,”  she said. “Show me that you’re compliant and eager to please.”

“How can I show you?”  I answered.

“I think you know,” she replied.  “Show me.”

I knew what she wanted.  I sank to my knees in front of her desk.  I cast my eyes downward, somehow knowing that’s what she expected.  That’s very good,” she said, “At least, it’s a good start.  Show me what else you can do.  You can start by coming here.  Come,” she said, as if she were addressing her dog. 

I began to stand, but she stopped me before I could rise. “No,” she said, “that’s not how a man who’s eager to please me comes when I tell him to come. You know how to come, don’t you?  Then show me.”

 I sank back to my knees and then, on my hands and knees, crawled around her desk.  She spun her chair around to face me.  “My, you are a submissive little bitch,” she said.  “Would you like to be my little bitch?  Do you know what that means?”

 “I…I think so, Ma’am,” I said.

And do you know what will happen to you if you don’t please me? she asked.

Yes, Ma’am,” I said.  “If I don’t please you, I’ll be punished.” 

“I’m glad you understand,” she said.  But understand this:  You may also be punished simply because it pleases me to punish you.  You will be treated as I choose to treat you.  You will gratefully accept whatever I do and you will thank me for it.  Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Very good,” she said, “but I need to know that you’re sincere. I want to see proof that you can take it.  Stand up and drop your pants. “

I rose to my feet and undid my belt and let my pants fall around my knees.  My manhood bulged, still constricted.  She scooted forward in her chair, then reached out and grasped the waistband of my underpants and slowly pulled them down.  I always shave my pubic hair and seeing this, she approved.  “Ummm,” she said, “that’s just how I like it.”  With that, she reached out and cups my balls in her hand, feeling them, feeling the weight of them.  She continued, “Who do these belong to?” she asked, leaving no doubt what the correct answer was.

“They belong to you, ma’am,”  I answered.

That’s a good little bitch,” she said, “but I need to know that you can submit to my complete control.  Can you?”

“I think so, Ma’am,” I said.

“That’s easy to say,” she said, “but I need to be sure.  Lie back across my desk with your legs spread and your balls exposed to me.”  I did as I was told. I could feel the cool of her desktop as my buttocks pressed against it.  I lay back.  She again took my balls in her hand.  “These are very tender, aren’t they?” she asked, palpating them gently.  “Lift yourself up on your elbows so that I can see your face when I’m speaking to you.”

Dominance

 I did as she commanded.  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

 Reaching over, she picked up a rubber band.  Then, encircling my scrotum with her thumb and forefingers, she slipped the rubber band around them, twisted it, then twisted it again, stretching the skin of my scrotum so that it held my balls tightly, causing them to protrude at the base of my now very erect penis.

 Then, reaching into a drawer, she withdrew a ruler. She sat back in her chair, tapping the ruler against the palm of her hand.  “I need one more thing,” she said, and she reached behind her and took a cushion from her chair.  She then told me to raise my hips so that she could slip the cushion under them, thus forcing my hips forward, my maleness exposed and completely vulnerable.

 “You’re going to have to prove to me that you’re worthy of being my bitch,” she said, “and you’re going to learn right now what will happen if you displease or disobey me.  Do you understand?” She reached out and held my penis firmly with her left hand, holding the ruler in her right.

“Yes,” I gasped, watching as she raised the ruler.  She took aim, and I heard it swish through the air…

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