Alasdair's Dominatrix Simulation

Pixels ascended about Alasdair, materialising a spacy hallway. Layered along the plain white wall moulded passage were 19th and 20th-century contemporaries. He stood before an ajar waxen-coloured six-panel door entrance with an electronic lock. He entered, supplying wary looks about the room to find his supposed dominatrix. Disappointment panged at him upon finding only the standards such as a queen-size bed, television and wooden desk.

Alasdair approached the window, a bark of laughter escaping him amidst viewing the melded cityscape before him. The various puzzle pieces of the different floodlit municipalities came together, melding the urban New York City and Tokyo. He remembered both cities with fondness, travelling there for business, often with Joselyn under tow.

Joselyn. He pondered using the Latitude cN to re-create their shared experiences. Re-create their love for one another. But those thoughts ebbed away. So many dangers heading down that route. Spending time playing make-up would only eat at him. Remind him what could have been. Alasdair partially closed the vertical blinds, allowing slithers of lights to cut through the unlit room. He laid his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. How was Joselyn doing? Did she still hate him? It has been three years. He felt ridiculous pining after her. He hated feeling this way, but he felt vulnerable around her.

But not vulnerable enough, he thought, remembering their breakup. Another sigh escaped him before he turned on his side. The scenario just needed to start so he could focus on solving his current issue.

Dominatrix_Femdom_Scenario_058 Initialised.

A mechanical sound rumbled beneath him for several seconds before fading into silence. Alasdair found red arm/legs restraints at the foot and top of the bed, making him jerk. He stood on his feet, hearing a soft slide culminating with a gentle click behind him. Through the apertures of the blinds, reflected on the glass window, he made out a figure. The somewhat tall woman had a thin, linear shape, holding what appeared to be a baton with nine tails. She shook her head before turning on the lights.

"I didn't expect seeing you here Mr Myers."

Alasdair's eyes widened. He recognised the woman's voice. He turned, backing away at the sight of his boss, Chief Operating Officer of Sales and Marketing, Martina Washington. Here stood a woman that did not play games; whose confidence exuded strength and demanded respect; who never cracked a smile unless it was a special occasion, dressed in a studded, halter corset, strapped to her thigh high lace stocking, and a G-string that underscored her perky, ebony ass. She played with the flogger in her hands, a bemused expression on her face while she watched Alasdair. The top dog’s cock lurched and lengtened. His lust object standing in lingerie entranced him. He cleared his throat, turning his head to laugh.

"I can say the same. Didn't know you resorted to whoring during the nights. I would have thought being the COO paid good money."

"Please Mr Myers. I would think a cocky man as yourself would be home knocking off his latest conquest rather than contacting an Essex girl."

"Excuse me?" he questioned with mockery. "Are you saying that I called you?"

"Not me exactly, but you requested domineering services and they sent me," she responded matter-of-factly. "Which begs the question, if you were such a submissive type, why did you make such a fuss testing the Latitude cN?"

He was not passive. Not at all. But why his cock hardened? Martina stood tall, both hands on her hips as she regarded him with furrowed brows. Alasdair spoke with the same fervour, but found himself unable to look at her directly.

"I'm not submissive. Especially to you outside of the hours of eight and four. Men don't believe in that pussy play. Go find a cuck, Martina."

"But I already have Mr Myers."

The carpeted floor muffled the taps of Martina's high heels while she approached Alasdair. The top dog crossed his arms before him, setting his legs apart. He lifted his head to stare down the woman. She ambled away, unconcerned, before settling on the bed before him. She flicked a red restraint before diddling around with her flogger.

"Think of this as overtime. Unpaid, of course. It's clear you want to have a little fun. Let's make the best of it."

“What makes you think I want a little fun?"

Martina raised an eyebrow, looking at Alasdair…well, at Alasdair's crotch.

"Your titchy stiffy."

At that moment, Alasdair looked down to discover himself only in his tight black briefs, that showed every inch of his erected manhood bulging upwards through the fabric. How did he not know he was barely naked? Did Martina watch him get aroused?! He cupped his shame, glancing around for another measure of cover, his embarrassment eliciting silent amusement from his boss. Once he covered himself with a magazine, he glanced up to find Martina sitting crossed legged, checking out his body and recording him on her mobile. Heat rose throughout his physique, reddening his alabaster skin.

"I-I-I was just…" started Alasdair, but Martina held up her hands, interrupting him.

"No need for an excuse, Mr Myers. You're lusty like a pup. Understood."

Her eyes still traced Alasdair.

"Compared to the rest of your body, the weapon you're hiding does not seem up to the mark. If we will play, I must evaluate you in your entirety. To see what I'm working with. Please strip off your underpants."

Alasdair's eyes bulged once more.

"Fuck no! I-I-I am not your toy Martina. Leave my bloody room."

The woman raised both eyebrows in unison, still recording.

"No."

"Why not!"

"Because if I leave, I will ensure Russel know the genuine reason behind your defiance. You're afraid exposing how small of a man you truly are."

She wiggled her pinkie finger, making Alasdair flush.

"Prove to me Mr Myers if you're hiding a willy or a cock? Take off your underpants."

He regarded her as she did him, neither scrutiny unyielding. Who was she playing? This was a virtual reality. Sure, it felt real. He almost believed it himself, but the truth was he bantered with a copy. Even their ludicrous notion of compromising his job over his dick size was simulated. A belief arose within him. He held power here. Martina could control his day-to-day in the office. Not in his own mind! He will show this bitch he is the dominant one. She will respect the top dog!

But another thought came.

What if he played along? His heart raced at succumbing before his boss. The woman he loved to hate, but hated to love. The woman whose mere presence made his blood run hot every day at inSite. His erection pulsed behind the magazine, begging fondle by the woman taunting it. Maybe he should strip, accepting the perversions lurking his mind. Alasdair took a deep breath, before making a choice.