The Natural: An Office FemDom Story
by
Joe Brewster
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 TransgressiveFiction
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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ooOOOoo
Joe and Jemma were putting the finishing touches on their latest project when Jemma suddenly jumped out of her chair, grabbed a Kleenex ™, and bounded onto Joe’s desk to squash a big bug high on the wall.
“Got him,” Jemma said.
Joe sat there marveling at her quickness and agility. Her pure athleticism. All the more impressive considering her tight skirt and five-inch heels.
Joe’s eyes lingered on the long, lithe, towering form standing on the desk above him.
From where he sat Joe could see that Jemma’s black stockings were thigh-highs rather than pantyhose.
Joe sat mesmerized by the sensual contrast of the black nylon against her creamy white skin. The thought of rubbing his cheek against those thighs made his gut clench in mock orgasm.
“What?” Jemma asked, as she hopped down to the floor.
“Nothing,” Joe said.
“Surprised?” Jemma asked.
“About what?”
“Don’t be coy, pervert,” Jemma chided. “I can handle the perverted part. You’re a guy after all. You’re all a bunch of perverts. But leave the ‘coy’ to us chicks," Jemma scowled. "We invented it."
"I didn't see anything,"Joe lied, "if that's what you're talking about."
"Oh, yeah. And I didn't see you cream your pants just now either," Jemma said. "You're pathetic."
"No way,"Joe told her.
“I mean, big wow," She rolled her eyes. "So now you know I don’t wear panties."
“Now, I know,” Joe said. “Thanks for telling me. I couldn’t see that far up your skirt.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Jemma said.
“It was pure reflex,” Joe protested. “That's all.”
“I'm so sure.” Jemma said, cupping her hands around her eyes, miming a set of binoculars. “You were staring up there like I had my pubes shaved to say “Free Lunch” or something. You really are a fucking perv. I should kick your ass.”
Joe couldn’t tell if she were kidding or really pissed. Her aggressive talk excited him as much the leg shot did.
Jemma scowled at Joe.
“Seriously,” Joe said, “It’s amazing the way you move in those heels. That's all I was looking at. At least, that's what caught my eye. Then, I guess, my eyes did wander a little. I wasn't trying to get fresh or anything. I'm sorry.”
“No biggie,” Jemma said, softening up a little now that Joe admitted he was wrong. “It’s my fault for flaunting it. I can’t blame you for copping a cheap thrill. A Wuss like you can't help himself. As hard-up as you are, never getting laid.
"I didn't know, until now, exactly how fucked-up you really are," she observed. "I mean, I know I'm hot as hell, probably the most gorgeous woman you're ever likely to be alone in the same room with, but if I can get you off, without even seeing my bush or tits or anything, then you really are a sad little pud-thumper. You must have a case of 'Blue Balls' like it's terminal. You are one miserable excuse for a heterosexual male."
Joe appreciated that Jem believed him about not seeing her pussy and that she sympathized with his sexual plight. But it made him feel uneasy too. Like Jem said, if he got all amped up over a simple leg-shot then they both knew she pretty much owned him. Not that he shot his wad or anything. He wasn't that hard up.
Joe was surprised to find how much he liked Jemma teasing him about his frustrated sex life. Not holding back. Really letting him have it. It made him feel alive to have her actually paying attention to him. If that's what it felt like getting owned he could deal with it.
“The way you get around in those pointy spike heels is hot,” Joe told her as a way to explain his arousal. “You make it look so smooth. They can't be very comfortable. How do you do that?”
“Women do what they have to if they want to look nice,” Jemma said.
“’Look Nice’ is putting it mildly,” Joe told her.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jemma asked.
“Nothing.” Joe said, feigning innocence.
Jemma sat staring at him. Eyeing him coolly. They’d worked together on various projects, off and on, for almost a year and this was the first time she ever remembered Joe flirting with her.
Sure she’d caught him checking her out on the sly. Staring at her ass. Or getting a good look at her newest sexy shoes. But Joe always clammed up when she busted him. He never had a flirty comeback. He’d just blush and stare at the floor. Embarrassed at being turned-on. Usually he left the room when that happened. Today he stood his ground.
Jemma kind of liked it.
“You always were a sucker for patent leather stilettos, weren’t you Boy?” Jemma teased. “Got fetish, much?”
“Women’s legs always look better in heels," Joe protested. "The higher the heel the better. That’s not a fetish. That’s common sense.
“The real turn-on is when they can get around without wobbling or doing that crazy choppy half-step, like they’re gonna take a tumble any minute now. It’s upsetting to watch. Like that Psycho-billy new chick. Stumbling around in pencil skirts and vintage platforms. Sheesh.
“She looks good standing still but once she starts moving I’m outta there. I get scared for her. I keep waiting for the big fall. I don’t see how she keeps from breaking an ankle.”
"If you think that tramp is hot then it's no wonder I give you seizures," Jem said. "That slut is trash."
“Not hot," Joe told her, "Just the way her legs look good in heels. Once she starts moving she's ridiculous. You, on the other hand, move like you were born wearing heels. Like you could outrun a gazelle in them. I've never seen anyone move as gracefully as you in any kind of shoes much less stiletto heels. It’s a sight to behold.”
"Sounds like I should be charging you admission," Jemma said. "You get a free show everyday and I get sore feet. What's up with that?"
Never before would Joe have had the guts to do what came next but today felt different. Like the planets were aligned and the force was with him. He got down on his knees and removed her shoes and began massaging Jem's feet.
"It's about time you started earning your keep, Bitch," Jemma told Joe sternly.
The sound of her voice put shivers in him.
Joe kept eyes down and his mouth shut and concentrated on not having an orgasm while he stroked the magnificent feet of his wonderful Office Goddess.
Jemma kept her stockings on which made the feel of her skin that much more sublime. Especially when Jem lifted her free foot and pressed the bottom to Joe's lips for him to kiss. The subtle texture of fine mesh against his puckered lips was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was a revelation. He gasped as Jem spread her toes wide and pressed the fragrant mesh of sweaty webbing against his nose. Trapped like a worthless insect in the net of his conquering female coworker, Joe silently pledged to be her eternal servant. Jemma’s personal sissy-bitch. Hoping against hope that this was not a one time thing. That she would let him wait on her, in every way she so desired, for as long as he was physically able.
He wanted to be her exclusive Office Boi so bad he thought he was gonna cry.
Jemma sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed the action.
She always thought Joe wasn't a bad looking guy. With the right clothes and a few grooming tips he'd make the grade. She would probably have asked him out, but as a boyfriend she needed a man, not a project.
Funny thing is Joe seemed to show more backbone as a servile bitch than he ever showed in real life. Jem was beginning to think if she played her cards right this D/s thing might work out. At least around the office.
When Joe finished the massage he collapsed in his chair physically, mentally and sexually exhausted.
If you didn't know any better you'd swear the guy really did have a foot fetish, but he didn't. He just had so low an opinion of himself that it blew his mind to actually touch someone like Jem in any kind of sexual way.
So, yeah, he enjoyed her feet but he didn't have a fetish. He wasn't into Golden Showers either but he'd have probably set himself on fire if he thought Jemma would piss on him to put it out.
Joe almost nodded off until he looked over at Jem. She had her legs spread wide, one leg over the arm of her chair, pussy glistening in all its glory for all to see.
Jemma sat still. Not moving. Not saying a word.
She looked Joe dead in the eye. Waiting.
Joe knew what the next move should be. But he really couldn't believe Jemma would let him go down on her. He hadn't yet processed the fact that he played with her feet. He could spend the next year savoring the moment and whacking off just thinking about that action and still not have it out of his system. Going down on her was such an impossible fantasy it was off-the-charts. Unimaginable.
Joe said, stupidly,"If someone walked in right now they might get the wrong idea."
Jemma just stared, saying slowly, in a controlled voice, "That's. Not. Possible."
"You mean the door's locked?" Joe asked idiotically.
"No," She answered flatly. "I mean, it's not possible to get the wrong idea."
Jemma knew Joe was a putz but this was ridiculous. She was about two seconds away from beating Joe’s ass to a bloody pulp. Not in a Domme/submissive way. Just a plain old-fashioned ass-whupping for being such an incredible sexual nitwit.
Lucky for Joe the realization that he was actually going to have oral sex with Jemma made him levitate out of his chair and somehow kneel and put his face in Jemma's wet bush.
"God," Jemma thought, "This Bitch takes to eating pussy like a duck to water. He's a natural."
That didn't really surprise her. She had him figured for a carpet licking Bitch. She was happy to be right. But that wasn't gonna keep her from making Joe bend over and get his bare-ass beat with a ruler for stalling like that. But that could wait. Right now she palmed Joe's head and rolled her hips and washed the slut's face in her dripping pussy juice.