Save your job

You can't afford to lose your job with the economy the way it is. Though you have no attraction to women, and espcially not Donna, you know she has you at her mercy and you will do whatever she demands to save your job.

You feel an unexpected lurch in your tummy followed by a warmth between your thighs. Even though she doesn't turn you on at all, somehow the idea of being submissive to her is a turn on.

"Alright," you say.

"Good," says Donna. "Stand up and undress."

This is no strip tease. You feel humiliated, your face burning with shame as the older woman sits on her desk and watches you begin by removing your sweater. You pull it up and over your head, baring your overflowing pink bra and your toned tummy. You hesitate.

"The skirt next," she says.

You unzipper the skirt and slowly lower it down your slender legs and over the sheer stockings you have held up by the garter belt. You can feel her eyes on you as you step out of the pooled skirt. She motions for you to turn around and you do, rotating akwardly, feeling her gaze like fire sweeping up your legs to the toned hemispheres of your ass. You complete the rotation and her eyes linger on the triangle of fabric covering your mound. You're suddenly afraid that you are getting wet and she might see the dampness saturating your thong.

"All of it now," she waves her hand at you. "Everything but the heels. I want you to leave those on. I like the way they push your ass out. Like a whore. Like the slut you are."

Your surrender to her is complete. You unbuckle the bra and let your big breasts settle on your chest, your nipples revealingly erect, your chest flushed with your intense excitement. Your thighs quiver as you drag the thong from between your cheeks and drop it below your knees. You step out of it and stand before Donna completely nude, with the exception of your high heels. She comes over to you, teasing her fingers across your abdomen, circling around you as you stand almost at attention like a delinquent cadet.

"You're shaking," she observes. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," you lie.

She chuckles. There is a small love seat and coffee table beside her desk. She pulls the coffee table aside and sits down on the love seat, spreading her legs once more and looking at you with her hungry eyes. Your entire body is aflame with her attention. You haven't felt this exposed in front of any man.

"Get down on your hands and knees," she orders.

You lower yourself to the brown carpeting covering her office and face her on your hands and knees. She motions for you to crawl to her and you do, slowly, thinking with each inch that you are closer to an irrevocable action, to allowing yourself to be dominated in away you had never even con-sidered. You reach her and she lowers a hand to your head, stroking you like a pet. Beneath the floral aroma of her perfume you can detect the musky note of her arousal emanating from beneath her skirt.

"Have you been bad, Rebecca?" she asks.

"Yes," you say.

"Yes, you have been very bad." She lifts your chin, forcing you to look her in the eye. "Keeping your indiscretions from Mr. Perry will require a good deal of trust between the two of us. You understand, that if you are to keep your job, you will have to prove to me that you are worth my trust."

"I'll prove it," you say softly.

"Good." She releases your chin. "I've been watching you strut around the office in increasingly small skirts, showing off your body to every man, and woman, at Perry Packaging. At first I was very angry with you. I thought about filing a complaint with Mr. Perry. But the more I watched you, the more outrageous your behavior, the more you turned me on. Your body does not disappoint, but in my fantasies you were always very accommodating to me. Very giving. Do you think you can pleasure me, Rebecca?"

What she is asking makes you want to cry. There will be no escaping this easily. She intends to force you to completely humiliate yourself.

"I will try," you say.

"Louder."

"I will try to pleasure you."

Donna stands, pushing your head away with her knee. She reaches down to the hem of her dark skirt and begins to lift. Her chubby thighs are revealed, her flesh pale and marked with faint blemishes. She lifts the skirt higher and higher until she exposes the place where her thighs rub together, she lifts higher, to the triangle of pink cotton over her sex. You can see dark hairs crawling out from the elastic at the legs. A line of moisture darkens the cleft of her mound. The musky aroma is intense and only inches from your nose.

"If you want to keep your job," she says, grabbing you by the hair and dragging your face towards her pussy, "you'll succeed at pleasuring me."

She crushes your face into the soft mound. You feel the wetness through the cotton. Heat radiates against your face. You're drowning in her smell.

"Pull them down with your teeth," she commands.

You carefully seize the waist of her cotton panties, snug beneath the small roll of her stomach fat, and drag it down. You expose her pubic mound, spidered with dark hairs that catch the dew of her excitement and trap the rich musk of her fuckhole. You feel tears watering in your eyes as you drag her damp panties down her chubby thighs and to her knees, finally releasing them and letting them drop to her feet. Satisfied, she sits back on the love-seat, spreading her legs wider to expose the velvety pink of her labia.

"Have you ever licked cunt before?" she asks the question with particular relish on the word "cunt."

"No," you confess.

"Let's hope you are a quick study." Her smile is cruel. "Alright, Rebecca. Now is your chance to save your job."

With both hands pulling at the back of your head she draws your face towards her pussy.

"Make me cum," she commands.