Blurb: Well, someone had to do it. The Binders Full of Women comment was just begging to be sexploited – – and avenged. I was hoping to have this completed before the election, but alas, it was not to be. However, I hope you enjoy this deliciously naughty romp about a struggling young attorney, Jennifer Long, who worked her way through law school as a dominatrix. She dreams of a job in state government. Forced to take a job well beneath her qualifications as the governor’s executive secretary, she soon learns that the capitol is full of sexist good ‘ol boys who see women as playthings and have no intentions of trying to ensure that the government staff is truly representative of the population, which is about half female. Watch Jennifer beat the boys at their own dirty game.
I was sitting in my bathrobe with a towel wrapped around my wet hair in the tiny kitchen of my apartment. I was “enjoying” eating my usual breakfast of dollar store oatmeal when my roommate Brenda came in with the mail. She dropped the newspaper onto the table and sat down beside me. She flipped through a small stack of envelopes.
“Bill, credit card offer, debt reduction counseling…” she said, ticking off the envelopes as she worked through the pile. “Student loan bill for you,” she quipped, handing me an envelope.
“Damn,” I snarled, opening the envelope. “I can’t believe it’s been six months already since I graduated.” I had been dreading the arrival of my first student loan bill, especially since I hadn’t yet managed to land a job in my field.
“What’s the damage?” Brenda asked?
Reluctantly, I withdrew the letter from the envelope and opened it. “Geez!” I said. “Looks like my monthly payment is going to be two thousand dollars! They jacked my interest rate up to twenty-five percent!”
“Greedy bastards,” Brenda mumbled as she continued sorting the mail. “That should be illegal. Oh no!” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
She handed me another envelope. “It’s from the state department personnel office.”
“Shit!” I sighed. It was another rejection letter. It made me furious. Here I was, a Summa Cum Laude graduate of the top state university law school, and I couldn’t even land a job as a legislative aide. Their standards must be unbelievably high for even an entry level position like an aide.
“I’m sorry Jen,” Brenda said. “Something will work out.” She picked up the newspaper and turned to the classifieds.
“I’m going to have to get a second job,” I said. “There’s no way I’ll be able to make those student loan payments on what I make at 121 Main and pay my part of the rent and other living expenses.” Brenda and I had been working at 121 Main for four years. It was a great job while I was in law school. The hours were flexible, and my pay was quite good for the hours I worked. Brenda worked in the business office, and I was a dominatrix. The dungeon was discretely located on the entire top floor of the office building located at 121 Main. Mistress Jones, who owned the operation, was a savvy business lady who strategically chose the location because the building was also home to several corporate offices. It also held rental space for government agencies. The high-profile clients could go in and out without raising suspicion.
“You could ask Mistress Jones to schedule you in for more hours,” Brenda suggested, still poring over the classifieds.
“Yeah, but I doubt I’ll get more hours. There are several other girls with more seniority than I have who already put in for more work.”
“Well, you won’t know for sure until you ask,” Brenda said, trying to encourage me. “Look here, the governor’s office is advertising for a secretary.” She laid the newspaper onto the table in front of me and pointed at one of the ads.
My heart sank. “Brenda, I can’t take a secretary job. It won’t pay enough to cover my student loans.”
“Maybe not, Jen, but at least you could get your foot in the door of state government. Once you’re there, you can meet people who may be able to help you get a better job. Once they see how qualified you are, they’ll want you on board.”
She had a point, I had to admit. Nothing else I had done seemed to make a difference in my getting a job in my field, and I’d worked my ass off. “Okay, I’ll print out a resume tonight after work. I’ll mail it in the morning.”
“No, you’ll do it now. You can apply online. You’ve got thirty minutes before we have to leave for 121.”
“You know Brenda? Sometimes I think you’re the domme, and I’m the support staff.” I smacked her on the ass as I made my way to my bedroom.
I logged onto my computer and navigated to the state government’s personnel website. It took me only a few minutes to complete the online application because my profile was already in the database. I had applied for so many jobs in various branches of government that it wasn’t funny. I clicked the submit button, and the application was on its way.
I went into the bathroom and dried my hair and started getting ready for work. I felt like a double agent in this job. I had to wear conservative business clothing on the way into the office, and I would change into my domme persona after I arrived at the dungeon. It was all part of the image Mistress Jones insisted upon. I dressed quickly and left with Brenda to work. She’d been great about letting me share a ride to work with her on days we worked together. She knew how deeply in debt I was, and I was ashamed to admit that I had allowed her to take on more than her fair share of our living expenses over the last few months. I vowed to make it up to her someday, and she had just smiled and said it was okay.
We arrived at 121 Main, a sleek, modern-looking skyscraper with pristine marble walls and floors in the ground floor foyer. As usual, a crowd of well-dressed businessmen and women stood waiting for the elevators. Several of the people standing in the group worked at 121, but we were under strict orders not to converse with each other in the foyer. Discretion in front of the other building tenants was critical in keeping our clients’ confidentiality.
By the time we made it to the top floor, six 121 Main employees remained on the elevator, and we all visibly relaxed. We exited the elevator and entered the reception area of the dungeon. Like the rest of the building, the reception area was sterile, sleek, and all business. The receptionist, a plump, middle-aged redhead, sat behind a marble counter. As we walked in, she de-activated the electronic door lock to the north wing, allowing us to enter. There was a long hallway with back entrances to the twelve different dungeon rooms, the security and business offices, and the men’s and women’s dressing rooms. Clients used the south wing, which led to the front entrances of the dungeon rooms.
I entered the women’s dressing room. The female cast members were busily doffing their business attire and checking their assignment clipboards. I checked my assignments and found that my first session would be a tag team scene. I was glad to see that I would be working with Mark, a master who’d been with 121 only a few months and was incredibly hot. I had been hoping to get the chance to work with him.
We had been specially requested by Mr. and Mrs. Smith, of course. So many of my clients were Smiths. My assigned session wear was already neatly folded on the top shelf of my locker. The house took a fairly large cut of the proceeds from our sessions, but we were well taken care of here. I liked the fact that my costumes were always ready and clean. The place was efficiently run and very secure. The guard monitored the sessions on closed-circuit television to ensure that none of the clients got out of hand. Sessions were taped, and the tapes were erased at the end of each day if there were no incidents requiring a legal record.
I carefully read over the session script noting the clients’ preferences for the specific experiences they wanted. I removed my business clothes. My instructions said to remove my underwear as well, so I took off my bra and panties. I withdrew a shiny, black latex catsuit and black, thigh-high stiletto boots from my locker and began squeezing myself into the suit. The material was stretchy, but it was still a challenge getting it on. Even though I worked out and was in excellent shape, Mistress Jones insisted that our suits be tight, and I suspected she ordered them a size or so too small. I managed to pull the suit up to my crotch, and I was glad I’d just had my pussy waxed. It would make zipping the suit much easier. I slid my arms into the suit and worked my tits into the underwire cups. The suit had a two-way zipper so it could be opened from my crotch or my breasts. I was to leave my pussy exposed, so I inched the bottom zipper upward. I’d finished dressing and went to dungeon room two to wait for the Smiths, who had scheduled an hour long session.
I found Mark already in the room, which was a classic set decked out in black leather and red velvet. He was wearing a leather torso harness and military boots. His body was tan all over. Mark was a criminal justice major who was on the university wrestling team, and it showed. His muscles were well-defined. He was adjusting his cock ring and pumping his dick to an erection. I couldn’t help but stare at his huge, bulging prick. He turned to look at me as I walked in. “Hi Jennifer,” he smiled, flashing a perfect grin as he followed my gaze to his erection. “Darn thing is too small,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “You’ve got to be kidding!” I heard myself saying.
“No,” he said. “I was talking about the ring. They really don’t make them big enough.”
I was a little embarrassed as I felt my crotch getting moist and beginning to tingle. That hadn’t happened to me in quite awhile. But then, it wasn’t often that I got to work with a master–and this was a fine one indeed.
Shortly, the Smiths were escorted into the room by Mistress Jones, who personally welcomed clients to their sessions. She also set the stage for the session. I doubted that the Smiths were actually married. He looked about fifty, and was quite attractive in a mature way. She, on the other hand, was probably about twenty-five and beautifully voluptuous, busty and blonde.
“This is Doug and Candy Smith. The Smiths are from a country where sex is forbidden, but they are unable to control themselves and will begin having sex. You, Jennifer and Mark, are sex security, and you are to stop them and punish them for their misbehavior,” Mistress Jones said. She turned to the Smiths. “Remember that our standard 121 safewords are green for okay to continue, yellow for less intensity, and red to stop the activity. Enjoy your session.” She left, closing the door behind her. The buzz of the electronic lock signaled the set was secure. Mark and I retreated to the back and stood behind a black room divider to allow the Smiths to begin their role play. I peered around the edge of the divider to watch and wait for the best time to intervene. Mark moved in close behind me and I could feel the hardness of his body against my back. Up this close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck and could smell the deliciously musky scent of his cologne. Damn he was turning me on, but I had to focus on the Smiths.
The couple must be special clients, I assumed, because sex was rarely allowed among clients at 121. Technically, if the clients had sex with each other, it wasn’t prostitution, but it was risky for business. Mistress Jones didn’t want to get busted by the vice squad. My guess was that the Smiths, or a least Mr. Smith, paid very well for today’s session. He was probably a very powerful man, one of our very own untouchables.
I peered into the dimly lit room and watched the couple removing each other’s garments. They ravenously tore at each other’s clothing, as if they couldn’t get naked fast enough. Doug roughly pushed Candy back onto the padded leather pedestal bed in the center of the room. He climbed on top of her and began suckling her nipples. He opened a drawer in the pedestal and withdrew a tube of lubricant. Clearly, he was a 121 regular. Doug coated his hand with the gel. As if Candy knew what was coming, she spread her legs open wide, and Doug rammed his beaked hand into her waiting cunt. She arched her back and yelled out in pain and pleasure. He pumped her pussy slowly and deliberately as she writhed with his thrusts.
I felt Mark moving closer to me, the unmistakable rock hardness of his cock brushing against my ass. He peered around the screen with me, and we watched Doug fist-fuck Candy. We watched them rocking together. Candy’s breath came hard and heavy. She moaned and began rocking her hips faster, grinding against Doug’s fist. She looked like she was about to come, and Doug withdrew his hand. He lifted her legs straight up and rammed his cock into her slippery hole. He pounded her hard and fast.
It was hard for me to keep my professional focus, watching them fuck with such passionate fury. It had been so long since I’d had a man in my life, and my body ached to be touched. As if my hand had a will of its own, I felt myself reaching down to fondle my clit. I was so wet that my fingers slipped into my slit with ease. I began teasing my clit with rapid little circular movements, sending shivers of pleasure though my body.
“Should we let them come?” Mark asked, his lips dangerously close to my ear.
His voice startled me back into reality, and I self-consciously withdrew my fingers from my quivering twat. Suddenly, without warning, Mark pulled me close to him. He reached down and gently slipped his middle finger into the top of my slit. He quickly found my swollen clit and began caressing it. His hand was hot against my skin. I should have stopped him. It was against all the 121 rules, but instead, my need to feel a man’s touch overwhelmed my common sense.
From the middle of the room, we could hear Candy panting and moaning. Doug was breathing heavily and growling the deep, primal sound of a rutting fuck about to blow.
I turned to face Mark and spread my legs a little further apart to allow him better access. “I think they’re coming,” I said, feeling my own climax dancing on the edge of Mark’s fingers. All I could think of was how his thick cock would feel inside me.
“I think so too,” Mark said, his voice raspy with lust. “Want to join them?” he asked, rubbing my pussy with the head of his throbbing prick.
This was insane, and I knew it, but right now all I could think of was having this young buck fucking me hard. “Fuck me, Mark!” I breathed. “Fuck me hard, now!”
He lifted me up and backed me up to the wall. I locked my legs around his slim waist as he worked his cock into the soft folds of my twat.
“You’re so tight,” he whispered.
“Yeah, it’s been awhile,” I said.
Mark smiled and continued pushing into me. It hurt a little, but it also felt wonderful. I’d never felt so completely filled. Mark leaned forward and kissed me deep and long as his hips began move against me, rhythmically fucking me. I could barely breathe from the intensity of his prick sliding in and out of me. Mark began unzipping the top of my catsuit and unleashed my breasts from their tight restraint. Hard with passion, my nipples slapped against his chest with the intensity of his thrusts. In seconds I felt my neglected pussy muscles begin to convulse around his throbbing rod. I felt him tensing against me, and he forced his rod even further into my twat as it shot its hot spray deep inside me.
Staring into my eyes, Mark lowered me to the floor. I could tell that stopping was the last thing he wanted to do. I didn’t want to stop either. “We’ve got clients to take care of,” I whispered reluctantly.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “More of this later?” he asked.
“Most definitely,” I breathed. Surprisingly, I noticed his cock was still erect. What a shame it was to waste it, but the Smiths were doubtlessly ready to move on with their role play. Mark selected a flogger from our collection of tools, and I chose a riding crop.
We came out from behind the divider to find Candy riding Doug in a slow reverse cowgirl stance.
“What do you think you’re doing? Stop at once!” Mark growled at the couple and pulled Candy off her mount. He easily held her wrists captive in one hand.
“You know that fucking is against the law and you will be punished!” I said sternly with a hint of cool anger.
“Please,” Doug said. “Don’t hurt her. This is all my fault. I talked her into it.”
“Nonsense. The law is clear that all violators are to be severely punished for fucking, especially if they enjoyed it. And from the looks of your erection and her glistening pussy, you both enjoyed it well.” With that, Mark pulled Candy toward the restraint table and forced her down onto it.
Doug made a move as if to stop them, but I swung the crop across his back. “You! To the bench, over there!” I directed. I forced Doug to straddle the padded spanking bench. Bend over, and put your hands in the shackles now!” I commanded, swatting him again across the ass. Obediently, he slipped his hands into the furry cuffs, and I tightened them. Then I moved to his ankles and secured them to the bench with another set of furry cuffs. I glanced over at Mark, and he had secured Candy to the table with her legs spread wide. He was circling her menacingly, slapping the flogger against his hand.
“You’ve been a naughty little slut,” he said. “Now your pussy will pay for the pleasure it has received.” With that, he slapped the flogger against Candy’s gaping pussy. She cringed and yelped a little. He did it again. She began to wriggle seductively, hunching her pelvis to meet the lashes as they fell against her skin.
“Since you claim to have been the instigator,” I seethed in Doug’s ear. “I have a special punishment for you, you miserable whore hound.” I withdrew a vibrating anal dildo and lube from a drawer built into the bench.
“What are you going to do to me?” Doug asked, sounding convincingly apprehensive. He was good at this role-play thing. Apparently he was well practiced.
“I’m going to show you what it feels like to have a penis inside you. And then I’m going to whip you as you deserve.”
“No, please…” he feigned.
I slathered the lubricant over the flexible dildo and turned it on. I parted the cheeks of his ass and began circling his anus with the vibrating tip. “This will teach you. You’re a miserable low-life fucker. That’s what you are. More concerned about your cock than obeying the law. Tell me, was that hot young twat worth this?” I asked as I pushed the end of the dildo into his hole.
Doug groaned with pleasure, and I continued to ease the long dong into his ass. “Are you sorry for what you’ve done, yet?” I spat.
“No!” he yelled. “I’m going to fuck again and again, no matter what you say,” he protested.
“Very well then. Take this!” I began pumping the dildo in and out of his ass, slapping his cheeks with the riding crop. He began grinding his backside with the rhythm of my hand job. He moaned with each thrust. By the tone of his voice I could tell he was entering a state of sexual hypnosis. I watched him carefully as I continued, nursing him relentlessly with my fuck stick until he came. He relaxed onto the bench. I released the cuffs from his wrists and ankles. It was right on time. Soft, sensual music started playing through the sound system in the room. It was our signal that it was time to end the session.
I withdrew the dildo and placed it into a sealed disposal canister. I moved over to the table where Candy reclined, quivering. Mark was removing her restraints. I saw that Mark had attached nipple clamps, and I began unscrewing them as he worked with the restraints. The handle of the flogger had been inserted into her pussy. Mark slowly removed it.
Mark and I helped our clients to sit up and checked to make sure they were both okay and satisfied. The back door opened. Andrea, the 121 guest services attendant entered the room pushing a cart with warm moist towels and grooming supplies for the clients to use to compose themselves before leaving. Mark and I thanked Candy and Doug for the opportunity to serve them and exited through the back door of the room. Candy and Doug would freshen up and dress, and Mistress Jones would escort them back to the reception area in a carefully timed exercise to ensure they would not be seen by other clients.
When the door had closed behind us, Mark stopped me in the hallway. “When can I see you again?” he asked, nuzzling my neck. Amazingly, even after all the work we’d just done, I still felt a tingle in my crotch from the brush of his lips against my neck.
I smiled. “Very soon, but I’m fresh out of pen and paper to give you my number.”
“Then I’ll get it from Brenda in the business office before I leave.” He pulled me closer and planted a long, probing kiss on my parted lips. I could definitely get used to this.
Mark released me from his embrace, and I went to the women’s locker room. I would need a shower before my next session. I was still so wet that I nearly gave myself an orgasm just walking down the hall.
By the time Brenda met me at the end of the day, I was whipped, no pun intended. I’d changed back into my business attire, but I felt disheveled as hell.
“You look tired,” she said. “Must have been a good day.”
“Guess so,” I answered. “I had five sessions.”
“Yes, everyone was busier than usual today. And you had some very satisfied clients.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yep, the Smiths left you this.” She handed me a crisp new hundred dollar bill. “They gave one to Mark as well.”
“Awesome!” I said excitedly. Then, just as quickly, I calmed down. “You keep it. I owe you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, stuffing the bill into my jacket pocket. “You need this worse than I do.” We argued about it a bit more, and then I gave in. Getting Brenda to take money was damned near impossible. Probably the only way I would ever be able to repay her would be in a will someday. She couldn’t make me take it back if I was dead. On the way home, I insisted that Brenda at least allow me to get us some carry out Chinese. Finally she conceded.
Back at the apartment, I unpacked our dinner and set the table while Brenda checked the answering machine. She came to the kitchen with a grin on her face. “Jen, the governor’s office called. They want to interview you!”
I was less than excited.
“Come on! This could be a good opportunity for you. You march right in there and call them.”
“Yes, mom!” I said sarcastically. I went to the living room to use the phone. Yes, I knew I was behind the times for not having a cell phone, but that, like so many other costly things, would have to wait. I called the number and was directed to come in tomorrow morning for the interview.
“So what did they say?” Brenda asked when I returned to the kitchen.
“Well, apparently, they are in a somewhat desperate situation because the last secretary abruptly quit, and they need to fill the position fast. They were especially interested in my legal background.”
“That sounds promising,” Brenda said, eating her General Tso’s Chicken.
I groaned grudgingly and tore into my rice noodles. I didn’t want to admit it, but Brenda may have been right. Despite my doubts, I began to look forward to the possibilities.
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Lana-Cordova/e/B009Y7SWBO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/LanaCordova