Description
by Dr. Jane Foxx
When Donald Taylor was offered a job at an advertising firm, he was delighted. On his first day at work, he was a little startled to find that nearly all the other employees were women. He was even more startled when he was invited to present his artwork to the CEO, Margaret M. Murray, at her apartment that evening. Dare he hope the beautiful lady had an interest in him that went beyond his work?
In fact, Margaret M. Murray did have an interest. Unlike the purely sadistic interest that some of the senior members of her staff took in men (having a perfectly satisfactory lesbian interest in each other), Margaret’s interest was primarily sexual.
Not, of course, that Donald Taylor would enjoy any sexual satisfaction. Quite the opposite. His only role was to provide Margaret with all the pleasure she could desire while he suffered nothing but frustration – although, Margaret did seem to take some pleasure in causing him pain, so perhaps she was not altogether without sadistic tendencies either…
Published: 1 / 2014 No. words: 30000
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Classed as: Consensual – Fem Dom – F/M, Sex Slavery / Training
“Take off my clothes?” Don questioned, in great surprise.
“Yes, of course,” the CEO explained. “My creative plan is to have you pose in different positions, from which I’ll be taking a series of candid pictures. From these photos, I can select the single, most perfect pose, and that’s what I’ll expect you to paint for my client. I know you have the ability, and I hope you will agree. But just remember: I’m the woman who will be in the painting with you, and, also, I will be in charge of this entire project. If you keep that in mind, Taylor, we’ll get along just fine!”
“How do you want us to start?” Don asked, while not quite believing what was happening.
“Get your clothes off, Taylor,” Margaret M. Murray repeated briskly, “and come close to the stool where I will perch myself, also naked. Now, while you’re disrobing, I’ll explain a bit further. The carpeted stage you and I will be on can rotate in a complete 360-degree circle. By watching the monitor, I will be able to snap various pictures of the two of us as the wheel goes slowly around. From those photos, I will select the pose or poses you will concentrate on painting for my client. Is all that clear?
“I think so,” Don replied, as he started removing his clothes. “It will be like riding on a merry-go-round.”
“But the stage won’t move very fast,” Margaret M. Murray smiled. “One complete revolution can take several minutes. All each of us has to do is stay in position as the pictures are being snapped.”
“That sounds easy enough,” Don replied.
“Good! Having the right attitude for this art project is everything,” the CEO responded,
As the lovely lady glanced at Don Taylor’s near-nudity, she added, “It’s also important not to be self-conscious about your nakedness. So, you can dispense with your underwear, too. I promise not to faint at the sight of you. I’ll even put myself fully on display, too. However, you must continue to remember that it’s only for the sake of pure art!”
Don Taylor smiled at the CEO’s remark. A moment later, his eyes were drinking in the unhindered, consummate loveliness of his female supervisor. The young man did not think any woman would be bold enough to totally expose herself in such a manner. But Margaret M. Murray certainly did. The lovely lady was even smiling as she stepped toward the stool standing between them.
“I’m sure any handsome, young man like you has seen more than his share of naked women, Taylor,” the CEO remarked, “and you will find I have nothing new, or too terribly unusual to offer. Although, as a creative artist, I hope you will find what I have to display is to your liking.”
In truth, Don Taylor had NOT seen very many live women in the nude. Most of those without clothes on had been in the pages of books and magazines, not in person. He wished he had been with more women – many more – but such was not the case. And now, except for her high-heeled slippers, this ultra-fascinating woman standing in front of him was without a stitch of clothing on her body. It was a very memorable moment – to be sure – and Don came very near to losing control of himself – and the situation.
The young man’s tremendously overpowering temptation was to throw the lovely Margaret M. Murray down into the carpeting and have his carnal way with her. He thought he easily could have done it, but the lovely lady, in sensing his primary, male motivation, suddenly reached to grip Don by his elbow. Thus, he became painfully and instantly immobilized. It was a paralyzing maneuver Margaret M. Murray had learned in the Orient, and it never failed to bring the desired result with any male.
As he continued to agonize in her fixed grasp, the lovely CEO hissed softly near his ear, “We are here to conduct creative artistry, Taylor. There will be no need to even think about your rather large, aimless erection being on parade. Yes, I’ve seen it! You will conduct yourself as a gentleman toward me at all times, and at my specific direction only. If you agree with my wishes, you have only to nod your head and I will release my tenacious grip on your elbow.”
Don Taylor managed to make the required nod, and Margaret M. Murray said, “Good! That was a very wise choice on your part, Taylor, I can assure you! Now, after you’ve finished rubbing your aching arm, turn yourself about so that I can make use of this length of pink ribbon I’m holding.”
When the young man did as he was instructed, the lovely CEO used the ribbon to tie his wrists behind his back. Afterward, he was ordered to kneel on the carpeting to await her pleasure.
Through eyes squinted in residual pain from his abused elbow, Don Taylor watched as the lovely Margaret M. Murray took some time to study her reflection in a wall-hung mirror. He saw that the lovely lady was fussing a bit with the abundance of hair piled high on her head, and she moved a few pins helping to hold everything in place. Afterward, Margaret M. Murray added a bit more luster to her pursed lips, and liberally sprayed some perfume in her own direction. She touched very briefly at those inviting twin nipples, and glanced over her shoulder to see as much of her naked back as was possible. Following that, Margaret M. Murray moved to sit on the edge of the stool she had told Don Taylor about earlier.
“Come a bit closer, Taylor,” the lovely lady ordered, as she kept looking in the monitor nearby. “Don’t be afraid! That’s it! I want you up on your knees, with the side of your face touching against my inner thigh. If you haven’t already guessed, this picture is to be an ultra-classic, cunnilingus pose. That’s what my client has ordered, and it’s the type of scene you will soon be painting. I trust you have no objections to offer.”
“No objections,” Don replied weakly, although, originally, he had expected to be engaged in some other sexual position. But, at this point, the young man thought it would be extremely foolish to voice his disapproval of anything his lovely CEO might suggest.
How Margaret M. Murray had found so sensitive a spot in the joint of his elbow, the young man had no idea, but she had, and the final elements of lingering pain were just beginning to slowly ebb away.
“I’ll be painting a cunnilingus scene,” Don was thinking. Of course he knew what the word meant, but he had never engaged in such a real effort, even if he had thought about doing it with his angelic-looking, female friend, Sally Anne Howe, if the opportunity had ever presented itself. Sally was definitely the loveliest, young, female creature he had even known. But she was so soft-spoken and quietly demure that Don did not think the word “poop” would ever escape her luscious lips. At any rate, Don Taylor had planned to save himself for Sally, and, in his mind, they would engage in sex matters together only AFTER they were married.
Yes, that had been the young man’s lofty plan. But now, at this very moment, Don was nestled on his knees before his dominating, female employer, and the side of his face was pressed against the warmth of her inner thigh, as she had instructed. He was in a pose that was extremely compromising by any standard. The young man hoped Sally Anne Howe would never find out about what he was doing at that moment. It would not be easy to explain.
“Be perfectly still, Taylor,” the strict-sounding voice of Margaret M. Murray was telling him. “I’m going to take the first picture of us. Yes! There it is on the monitor. Oooo, that looks so nice! No, no, don’t turn your head to peer at the screen. You’ll have to trust my judgment. Besides, I’ll let you see the resulting pictures, after a while. Meanwhile, you just keep looking straight ahead!”
“Straight ahead?” Don thought to himself. The only view straight ahead of him was the mass of dark curls surrounding Margaret M. Murray’s warm pussy. His face was so damned close that he could feel the female heat being generated, and his mind was being tormented by thoughts of the moment when his lips might be required to make contact. He knew it might happen, sooner or later, but only when the lovely lady indicated it was time.
And what was Don to do when that moment came? It was difficult for him to even think clearly about it. All his efforts to reason seemed to be confused and distorted. One thing was certain: his friend, Sally Anne Howe, was not even part of this equation. All Don could think of was the dominating manner of his CEO, Margaret M. Murray.
