I’m Dahlia. 35, curvaceous brunette with piercing eyes, full C-cups straining my blouse, tight ass in pencil skirts. Ambitious office predator. Late career phase, post-Phil split. Open space hums. Mouse clicks rapid. Printer whirs low. Coffee stench mixes with my sultry perfume.
Company chat turns erotic. Martial, 50s exec boss, spouts S/M crap. ‘Lords dominate slaves. Natural law.’ I troll hard. Switch nicks four times. He boots me, clueless it’s same chick. ‘No fairground after flogging?’ He fumes. No humor, pure arrogance.
The Mounting Tension
Switch tactics. ‘Sandra, initiate me Master.’ He renames, demands respect. Orders strip, nipple clamps, veggie fucks, doggy crawls. Online fun. Log off, mock his ego.
Days later, Miranda becomes Bernadette. Webcam push. Send morphed pic: my face on Anna-Gaëlle’s body. Blonde colleague, short hair like bird’s head, heavy makeup, old-pink lips, sheer top hinting bra, black vinyl skirt. She drops by breakroom. Deep kiss. Tongues wrestle. Pinch her tits hard. Hand dives skirt, fingers plunge wet cunt. She strips, spreads on table. Crush cake on her clit, lick cream-smeared pussy. Salty sweet rush.
He bites. Orders conference room meet, 6pm. No bra/panties. Clamps on nips and labia lips. Santa-red lipstick. Blonde wig. Anna syncs watch outside.
Rain patters windows. Door locks with sharp click. Printer drones. I enter raincoat-open. Cakes in hand. ‘Master, your Bernadette.’ He gawks, fit bald guy, commanding stare.
‘Fridge them.’ No. ‘Throw out!’ Shock. Show clamps peeking. ‘Wore week for you.’ Anna buzzes intercom. ‘Bernadette here, metro delay.’ He freaks. Buzzes again. Double me. Photo memory hits.
Anna bursts in, mini-extinguisher aimed. ‘Drop her, fucker!’ He claims heart issue. Intercom: ‘Denise for Master.’ Innocent sub, blue raincoat, ponytail, sparkling blue eyes. Young good-girl vibe.
The Raw Explosion
He pales, collapses. Panic. Desk pills. Gulp one. Call ambulance. Régis rushes in. Chaos. Cops arrive. Body search. Clamps yanked off roughly. ‘Pussies bare, thongs in bags?’ Sarcasm stings. Four hours grilled. No theft. Released humiliated, menottes off.
Breakroom refuge. Rain drums. Coffee cold. Denise sobs. ‘Fell for his net.’ Console her. Anna sulks. ‘Dominate you coquinely?’ Hesitant yes. Taxi? No, lock conference door. Printer silent now.
Denise strips. Pale skin, pear tits pink tips, plump ass. Spank volley. ‘Hum hum.’ Belt from drawer stripes red welts. She begs more. Crawl doggy, tits swing.
Pasta time. Al dente bolognaise dumped on her body. Fingers scoop tits, mound, thighs. Gobble messy. Anna 69s her, tongue burrows cunt through sauce. I rim Anna’s puckered hole. Denise laps clumsy. She cums first, screams. Anna follows.
Bathroom detour. Tiles cold. Straddle her. ‘Piss on me, Mistress!’ Golden stream hits shaved slit, belly, tits, face. ‘Open mouth!’ Swallows drops. Squat, jets in mouth. ‘Drink!’ Then clit suck. I explode, slip ass-down.
Clean frenzy. Wipes, water. Adjust skirt, blouse. Smear lipstick fix. Anna grins. Denise beams. Unlock door. Clicks resume outside. Stride open space. Coffee fresh. ‘Meeting now?’ Cool nod. No trace. Adrenaline peaks. Pro mask on. Lust simmers beneath.