Recommended listening: The Choir Invisible, from the DEADBOLT soundtrack, by Chris Christodoulou.
It’s Friday!!! And about time, too. It feels like it’s been a really long week, even if I spent a few days working from home. It’s been a pretty good day – Fridays are always pretty casual, after all. I met some more new starters – technically they started yesterday, but I wasn’t in the office. They seem cool! It’s weird to think that our most recent new start, who still feels like she just got here, has been around for a month – equally weird that I’ve been doing this for three! The linear passage of time strikes again, it seems.
We went out for a couple of drinks after work – a little expensive, given I only really like cocktails, but it’s only once a week, and team-building is always a noble cause. I considered taking that idea a bit further in this blog, maybe writing something about forced intox? But then I realised, I don’t really know anything about it at all, having never really looked much into it. The closest I’ve been wasn’t even forced at all, just me texting Mistress after several drinks on my birthday last year. (which did end up with her saying some extremely hot things to me, so… something to keep in mind?)
Instead, I thought I’d write about something a friend – one of the ones that started on the same day as me – shared at after-work drinks. Turns out she’s applied for a different job at the same place, and got it! A permanent position, in a role that pretty much perfectly plays to her strengths! I’ll be sad to see her go, but I’m also really happy for her. But that’s not what I wanted to write about. I’m thinking more of the classic porny idea of having a femdom boss – which, come to think of it, is also something Mistress Charlotte wrote some incredibly hot words to me about! Once upon a time, back when we had only just started chatting, iirc. I would’ve been at work, I think, and (if my memory is accurate) mentioned that I’d be in a meeting for a while, and wouldn’t be able to respond if she, say, happened to send any particularly sexy words my way.
(Look, I’d never done much subbing before, I didn’t know about topping from the bottom!)
She, thankfully, agreed, and for a while all I felt was my phone repeatedly buzzing in my pocket, while I failed to pay attention to a meeting. She wrote about a boy, nervously entering her office to hand in a report, quaking slightly as her eyes penetrated him straight to the soul. And then, a command – whispered, but no less powerful for it: “Under my desk, boy.”
And so the boy, conditioned well by this point to obey the words of his Goddess (yes, this was back when I called her Goddess) drops to his knees in an instant, pressing himself into the confines underneath her desk. It’s warm, down there, and slightly dusty – but more than anything, it’s dark. Barely enough light to see by at all. So he reaches out, with trembling, reverent fingers, until he finds something solid. Beautiful, stockinged legs – he can’t really see them, but the beauty is obvious. And he knows exactly what is expected of a slut like him, in a situation like this. So, he runs his fingers up, and up – so carefully you’d think he was handling some great masterpiece (which, of course, he is). His hands only stop once they run out of stocking, and delicately touch on soft, smooth, bare skin. The light tap of a heel on the floor breaks his momentary trance, and he recalls his duty once more.
He leans in and, lightly, places the tiniest little kiss on her thigh, a gentle exhale escaping his lips, unbidden. He repeats the kiss again on the other side, just as softly, and slowly begins moving up her thigh, and under her skirt, the kisses gradually getting more and more intense as he goes. Eventually, he reaches his goal – her goal – her pleasure. As the kisses cease, and he positions himself to put his tongue to good use for once, he feels her legs on either side, pulling him in tight, locking him in, keeping him exactly where she wants him. Exactly where he should be. And so, like a slut who knows precisely what is expected of him, he does what he’s told, licking and lapping at her pleasure like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. (Which, of course, it is). After a few minutes, his other senses return somewhat, and he hears the sound of a keyboard clacking somewhere above him. Just like he has his work to be doing – she, too, has her own work to get back to. He is ignored completely, as she remains “utterly indifferent to his agonised, desperate pleasure”.
That last line in quotes because it’s taken completely from the fantasy Mistress Charlotte pitched to me all those years (ok, like, 2.9 years, but still) ago. The rest of the words are mine, but the idea – that wonderful idea that’s run throughout my head countless times since I met her – is all Mistress. So if it sounds good to you – you’ve got her to thank. Even if you just liked how my words came together – I’d probably never be writing like this if it weren’t for her. Thanks for reading.
Service and Sluttery 