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Chapter Eleven: A Softhearted Dose of Strap Oil
I woke up this morning with a song on my lips, a lyrical heart and loins ablaze. My thoughts were of love and Ms. Handlesmen. I was a new man, no… a boy, born just three days ago. I was alive for the first time in twenty years. One whiff of life was all I’d needed, but I’d been allowed to hear it, see it, and taste it. I felt it with all my being and it was wonderful, beyond anything I could have imagined. I never appreciated how small I was until I discovered women and the universe. Now I soared without care, swept up in an obscene chaos that transcended time and space.
I was in love with Ms. Handlesmen and I felt, no, I hoped, she was in love with me. No other woman had ever treated me in the way she had. She made me feel like something special and I could tell she cared about me. For sure she was a bit heavy handed, but everyone has little idiosyncrasies; some of us fetishes or heavy obsessions, but… She was soft handed too. True, we had not engaged in sexual intercourse yet, whatever that meant. But even I understood that love is not dependent on sexual union. She had used her hand on me, allowed me the pleasure of using her hand and this alone endeared me to her. Oh, sure she balanced those pleasures with a good amount of pain and tons of humiliation, but these were small prices to pay the one you love.
I kept mulling these ideas over in my mind, like bad dreams I couldn’t shake and good dreams I sought to continue. When allowed, my mind grappled with my sudden change in life style and profound self-discoveries. Consequently, because my mind needed to sort and analyze, it was at odds with the rest of me. The rest of me existed on the threshold of satiation and couldn’t give a flying fuck about sorting and analyzing; what ever a ‘flying fuck’ is. My mind needed to take me aside and rationalize everything, so I kept pushing it into a closet and locking it away.
I found it somewhat easier to not play with myself this morning. Though the urge was forever gripping me, I simply subdued it with thoughts of her, Ms. Handlesmen, her words and warnings, her promises. Once again I virtually bounced to work, as happy as a lark.
Today I would be provided yet another office uniform. Maybe not my official uniform, because Ms. Handlesmen had several to choose from and was having a difficult time deciding. I guessed I would be modeling a new uniform daily until she found one that suited her, but I didn’t mind.
Always prompt, I was in the secretary’s office at nine sharp, disrobing. Once naked and with street clothes hung neatly, I turned and faced the secretary. I stood erect with my chest out and my hard-on in a solid salute before a lady who hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction. All my actions were no more then she expected. I brought my feet and legs closer together, forcing my extremely tight scrotum into prominence. It still felt strange to be hairless, almost inhuman. When the secretary finally looked up, she couldn’t help but smile. Her smile became a grin as she pushed her glasses up on her nose and ordered me into Ms. Handlesmen’s office. Feeling sissified and proud at the same time in her presence, I walked with poise and grace to the door and entered, hoping my lover would be there. I found the lights low, and what I would call, romantic. I sighed with relief when I saw Ms. Handlesmen next to a beam of sunlight. It traveled from between parted drapes in a most dramatic display. I closed the door and came to attention facing her.
“Good morning ma’am,” I offered in my meek inoffensive way. There was a solid beam of sunshine settled beside her and it dazzled. My hands twitched with the rest of my body and my throbbing hard-on drooled like a teething baby, but in a salute this woman had come to expect. Ms. Handlesmen picked up a cup of coffee from her desk and took a sip. I could see it was black, probably unsweetened and its aroma was as strong as her cigars. My lady was a paradox. She looked the complete opposite of the way she acted.
“Come around the desk Joey, come stand in front of me. I want you in the sunlight so I can get a good look at you,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “The brightness doesn’t last forever, so hurry!” She was pointing to the floor, in the center of that uneven circle of light that beamed through her window. The drapes were parted, separated and tied off, allowing for another lit stage I was expected to enter. She slid her chair back and to the side, just outside of the light. I moved quickly around the desk and into the spot, bringing my penis to stand before her. It was a puppet I prepared to put into action for her; or more to the point, a puppet she was about give life to for me.
I watched her eyes crawling up slowly along my body, carefully scanning. I stood straight as I could, pulled in my gut, stuck out my chest and then my groin. I looked down at my cruel lover in adoration, my eyes moving over the swell of her bosom, hoping I pleased her. When I spotted her Maltepe Escort left hand moving closer I pushed my pelvis forward, and in her favorite way, she grabbed my left testicle with her thumb and index finger. She worked her digits into me until an ice tong-like grip was obtained, a sure strong hold. She sent me onto my toes, the ones I learned to balance on yesterday. She got me to bend at the waist and my arms to bang against my thighs in an act of self-control. Instinctively my hands moved occasionally in defense, but I easily caught them and forced them back to my sides. A large smile spread across Ms. Handlesmen’s face and I knew she was pleased, and so was I.
“Stand,” Ms. Handlesmen shouted only once and I brought myself up, even as she used her fingers to make me bend. My attempts made her chuckle and I was convinced she was simply testing my love. I turned as her fingers pulled me around on my toes, in a pirouette. She continued scanning my surface with the fingertips of her free hand, tracing along with her eyes. They gently skimmed my skin and I surmised, in search of single hair that may have evaded the waxing. My mind followed the slow moving phalange as it tickled and caused me to twist about from my left testicle. With my lover holding my testicle so high in the air I felt like a freshly caught fish that continued fighting playfully, uselessly, or was it panic? My mind bounced between the fingers of both her hands and my toes’ agony. By the time I finished half a rotation, I was whimpering aloud and as high up on my toes as I’d ever been. At that point, her right hand took over for her left. By the time I came full circle I was sobbing aloud. She moved me a step back and released my testicle.
“Honey, stand straight,” she ordered, while watching me fight to accomplish just that. It was near impossible after what my testis had been through, but suddenly I was ‘honey’, and I was ecstatic. “Stand with your feet six inches apart, toes in and put your hands behind your head. Pull your elbows back and stick that little toy out for me,” she ordered. I brought myself into a shaky rendition of her request, as she slipped back in her chair and relaxed. I looked down at her and found her more beautiful then ever, and I was her ‘honey’. I wanted to use the word also.
My lover was poured into a form fitted business suit. A three-piece gray and white pinstriped suit, over a severely starched white dress shirt and solid burgundy colored tie. Her thick red hair was down, in a wild seductive cascade about her shoulders. Her lips and nails were done to match her tie and when she looked up at me, I melted like a snowman on a hot summer day. I wanted to roar, I wanted to beg, I wanted to command, fall to my knees and grovel; I wanted to assert myself and debase myself as never before. I still wanted her to take me home with her.
My eyes lit up when I saw her reach for the towel, I couldn’t wait to get over her lap, but she draped the towel over the desk edge nearest her. I needed no explanations; at least I was in her presence. I faced the towel and bent over the desk, waiting for her to show me the proper way. Her hands came to my hips and I followed their lead. She wanted my belly on the towel, my arms outstretched, gripping the far edge. She wanted my head back, chin up and feet flat on the floor, legs well spread. My back was to stay well arched, “that I should feel the air at my asshole and about my balls”. My penis was to touch nothing, just bob about under me and dribble. She brought her mouth to the entrance of my right ear and blew into it quietly.
“Joey, there’s so many nice things about you. I feel you understand me completely; it shows in your performances. You obey so quickly and without question, it’s as if we were meant for each other. It’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other for three days. I know I can tell you this, because you’re a big boy Joey.” Boy did I feel big! About ten foot tall and closer to her then anyone I’d ever known.
“Joey dear, I know executives that would kill to own you,” Ms. Handlesmen said. I stared at her from over my shoulder and smiled nervously at the thought, but more thrilled by what she thought of me. We were, ‘meant for each other’. Was I dreaming, or what? Her words proved to me I wasn’t. “Kill! Do you understand me Joey? That should give you an idea of how valuable a commodity you are around here.”
She stood unexpectedly and adjusted her jacket, then passed around to my left side. Why would she tell me about such things? I wouldn’t leave her now, for anyone. Maybe she was preparing me for her departure, but that was absurd. Still the thought gripped at my heart. I would never have willingly belonged to another, never. And I would kill myself instantly if anything happened to Ms. Handlesmen. Like Romeo I could never live without my Juliet.
“Of course Joey, I would never kill, I can’t stand the sight of blood,” Ms. Handlesmen said with a smirk. “Spit and hockers, cum, vomit, urine and even shit, Ümraniye Escort yes, but not blood. You know, I would tan the hide off anyone I caught attempting to steal you from me.”
My head spun to my left and caught her as she arrived. I felt one of her soft hands land gently on my back, and its long delicate fingers skim the surface of my skin, causing goosebumps over my entire body. Her tips landed in the hollow and I arched to their suggestion, straining to make my ass cheeks higher and rear portal open. I felt my balls stirring between my legs, swaying to the rhythm of my boner’s excitement. This would be my first early morning spanking by the hand of Ms. Handlesmen. I felt the tension and looked across the room, to a picture on one side of the doors. It could have been a mirror, because it was ‘me’ that I saw on that canvas, me. I saw no need to pity the pigment fellow, nor myself. We were about to receive pleasures through the pains of passion. Ms. Handlesmen’s hand suddenly started in with a series of quick sharp slaps.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Her hand moved to cover my entire behind. I crunched in my neck and looked back over my shoulder like the hurt little boy I’d become. She was only warming up, but I gripped the far edge tight. I looked down at the pink towel, the word ‘HERS’, stared back at me.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. I grimaced and clenched my teeth as the pace of the spanking quickened and became harder. My lover was increasing the force. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! From where does so much femininity draw such power. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. I was looking into the air, at the painting, the ceiling, looking for nothing. I was crying out loud in no time, as her hand continued its assault and my tears flowed in streams. Smack- smack- smack- smack-smack- smack- smack! I was wiggling my behind frantically and my boner was whipping back and forth under me, spewing excitement. I craned my neck to heaven and screamed on. My entire body stayed rigid and my knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the desk, as if for my life. I was in a crashing roller coaster on my way to hell and was begging for my tormentor to stop but for a brief moment, yet continue into eternity.
I howled and begged for redemption from each swat… Yet I thrilled to them. They had become pleasurable, in a perverted way. The more I was punished, the harder my cock became and I was in a lot of pain. I was a raving pervert slut and I’d bet everyone at the company thought so too. My tears had drenched the ‘HERS’ and were spreading out. I felt my tears running down my cheeks and over my chin, many ended up in my mouth. I lapped at them with my tongue and for a brief moment, I was reminded of the first time I had ever been to the ocean.
I was twelve years old at the time and my mother’d reluctantly taken me to California. Her sister had died and it was a family thing. It was our first night at my aunt’s house on a beach, facing the ocean. The people from the next house were dear friends of my aunt and they had a daughter, Karri. She was two years older then me. The girl offered her services as a baby sitter, while her parents drove my mother to the funeral parlor. My mother took her up on it and the next thing I knew, I was standing ankle deep in water watching the sun disappear with this strange girl beside me. The beach was deserted and she stood very close to me, causing me all these strange feelings, warm hormonal feelings.
Anyway, I hadn’t a clue as to what I should do and suddenly Karri reached her arms around me. I closed my eyes fully expecting my first kiss and then they almost popped out of their sockets. Karri had grabbed the waistband of my swimming trunks and pulled them down. She pulled and yanked me back and forth until she got them free of my feet. Then she held them in the air triumphantly, while I fumbled in front of her to cover my embarrassment, and begged. I was red faced and shamed, struggling to hide myself.
“Please, oh please,” I wailed in pitifully wimpish drivel. “Someone will see me like this. Why did you do this to me,” I asked woefully. But she stood there roaring in laughter. She was laughing so hard she bent at the waist and covered her mouth while tumbling about. With her free hand and before I realized what was happening, she reached down and grabbed a fistful of my pubic hairs.
“Shut up! Shut up, or I’ll slap you silly boy,” she spit in my face with a laugh. She pulled on my pubes and brought me up before her, but never stopped chuckling. I took her wrist in my hands, but did little else then hold it gently and tremble before her in fear. I saw something strange in that girl’s eyes, intriguing, evil and yet intoxicating. Out of shyness I left it unexplored, as I had and have almost every other opportunity in my life, but now I’ve rediscovered it in Ms. Handlesmen. Nervously I looked around the beach and over her shoulder. I hoped no one was passing and swallowed with relief when I found the beach still deserted.
“Just İstanbul Escort calm down boy, I’m not going to hurt you, if you’re a good boy that is,” Karri warned, emphasizing her point by pulling me even closer. She brought our faces together.
“Get your hands down, get them off me and keep them away from that little pud of yours,” she snarled. She threw my trunks away and sat down, causing me to come tumbling after, landing across her thighs. It was then my face dipping under water and I got my first taste of the saline sea. How shocking the taste, made more so by the sudden assault.
Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Ms. Handlesmen continued as the ocean sea sunk from view. Since I was facing the door I saw it open and through my tears I recognized the secretary approaching. Although I hadn’t noticed before, she was wearing blue. It was a bright peacock blue that seemed rather out of character for such a stern lady. I couldn’t remember why I ignored such a blatant transformation. For some reason I crimsoned in shame knowing she had caught me like this. I couldn’t understand why, as she had seen me naked so often. It must be my station in life, to bare humiliation and wear shame like an ermine wrap. It was degradation I needed and what my mistress provided. I sniveled and whimpered when possible, whenever my lover slowed down enough to give me a moment from screaming.
“My goodness, I could hear it screaming out in the hall,” the secretary stated as sharply as the smacks my ass received. “Meeting’s in ten minutes.” I was on my toes, with my knees bouncing off the wooden desk drawers. Their rhythm sent out a gentle code, an erotic rap-a-tap-tap message for lovers everywhere. My ass was kept in the air by a sure, strong, rapidly moving mitt.
“Yes…” my vicious lover answered without missing a beat. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! “Yes… I’m… leaving… right… now,” she exhaled in a satisfied gust of air. With reluctance, she ceased spanking me and adjusted her suit. “Please be so kind as to finish poor Joey’s spanking for me and then dress him in the uniform laying on that chair.” She was talking with the secretary and they looked to the chair, but I couldn’t see it.
“Very good,” the efficient secretary said, moving to replace the woman I loved. Oddly enough, the secretary first scooped my balls up in her palms, rolled them a bit and seemed to test their weight. Could she actually be interested in me?
Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The secretary’s hand started in and I watched the lady I love exit through a freshly charged salt-water mist. Then the secretary started to really wallop my behind.
Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
“Ow.” “Ow.” “Ow.” “Ow.” “Ow.”
“Be a good boy, Joey,” Ms. Handlesmen shouted to me before closing the door between us. By now the sunlight illuminated the entire room, the theater was between performances and the star practiced his lines to the beat of a very stern drama teacher. His lover had just exited, blowing him a kiss on her way out.
Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap. The secretary’s spanking was harder and her flurry quicker then Ms. Handlesmen. Her hand was hot and her skin tougher too. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. She had me standing on my two big toes, lifted into the air by her hand’s sharp upper movements against the lower portions of my bottom cheeks. Her hand landed again and again with devastating consequences and I was sobbing so hard and screaming so loud, my voice became strained.
“Come on, let’s hear you scream. Tell the ladies down the hall what you’re made of,” she yelled through gritted teeth. “I want to hear you scream! I want to hear you beg, little boy! Everyone wants to hear you!” Her hand traveled around and over both hemispheres, attempting to spread the punishment evenly. My ass cheeks were on fire and I did beg, I did plead for my life.
“P…Pl…Pleas…se…ma’…am…” I wailed over and over again, to my cold Sybarite. Through the pain and loud wallops, through tears and my own sobbing, I could sense her satisfaction. I had seen it in my lover’s eyes and now in the secretary’s, the inevitable delight my suffering provided both.
I was left on my toes, ass high and still lurching after the spankings ceased. The secretary had gone to the couch to fetch today’s uniform. I was left with my head lowered, crying bitterly, my body shivering and spasming uncontrollably. My fingers were chalk white from gripping the desk edge and I still grimaced with teeth clenched. I hadn’t seen her walk away, nor approach.
“Come on now, stop that sniveling, it’s time to prepare you for work,” she said in a harsh voice. She took me by the lobe of my left ear and hauled me up to stand before her. I stood trembling, crouched slightly at the waist, still sobbing. My hands were at my sides with fingers splayed, near but not touching my sore behind. I could feel the heat radiating from my buttocks, and knew my globes glowed a bright red. The tears poured from my eyes, running in long streams down the front of my body. I was gasping in fits, sniveling like a beaten child attempting to catch his breath and then the knowing woman poked my penis with the tip of her finger. It was the nail and its meaty tip, but that was all it took.
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