Your weekends may soon be spent on a leash, wearing a leather hood with just your mouth exposed, so I can whore you out to the highest bidder just to ensure you pay for your own dog food.
Good morning my corporate slut,
So what is more difficult – a day in the office, or a day trying to satisfy my desires?
I know you are under a lot of “stress” lately, and you get grumpy and irritable and feel that you take on way too much pressure at the office. I just want to look at you with a fake, pouty bottom lip and say, “Oh, poor baby. Is it really THAT bad?”
You could, after all, have to spend your days and weeks keeping me happy. That’s a full-time job, you know. And sometimes I do consider making sure you get fired and have no income and are totally un-employable. Then you’d really be a slave to me, wouldn’t you?
Without your six-figure salary and fancy car, what are you, anyway?
All it would take is a few snapshots from my digital camera sent to your HR department and they’d have you packing in no time! Imagine the humiliation of being fired and the whispers in the office – all the women looking at you and giggling, as the “private” photos of you on all four in pink lingerie would spread like wildfire through the office.
Maybe I would make it a global affair, posting them all on a blog and then “accidentally” sending them to the biggest blabbermouths at your firm. I am sure your London, Tokyo and Moscow offices would hear about it before you even got to work in the morning!
And then what? Your sorry, fired ass would come home sulking, and find your new “uniform” waiting for you. Yes, full-time, at my house, as my little cleaning bitch. A tight latex maid outfit with locking shoes made to be so uncomfortable that you could barely walk!
Not that it would matter; you would be spending most of your time on your hands and knees, either cleaning my toilets or taking it up the ass! Yes, my strap-on would be a constant mode of motivation for my new housebitch.
When you fall from the top, you fall hard. You would go from super top executive to humiliated housebitch of Orange County. I could get on that TV show on Bravo, I am sure! Then the whole world would see you for what you are – a humiliated bimbo who cleans my house and services my boyfriends. Imagine that!
Since I control all the money, this would be so easy to pull off. I move a few accounts around, assure you are fired with the click of my mouse, and then set my plan into motion. Your assets are totally removed, and you come home to nothing – nothing but me, and the need to please me. I put the food on your table, after all! Or in your dog bowl. No more bed for you, I have a puppy cage just your size.
You have to stop and think about it. Right now. Look around your office. You realize I have enough access to your personal work files and enough degrading photos of you with your face in full view that I could end your career in an instant. I waited until just now, really, until all the pieces were in place, to tell you something very important.
I have no qualms at all about ending your career in a flash if I decide I want to make you my housebitch instead! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
Your weekends may soon be spent on a leash, wearing a leather hood with just your mouth exposed, so I can whore you out to the highest bidder just to ensure you pay for your own dog food.
Could I really be so cruel? Well, let me put it this way. As I type this, my pussy is getting incredibly wet. And what makes me wet makes me happy. And sometimes, when I wake up bored and sick of how your “corporate power” pulls you away from me, sometimes I do consider just taking it all away from you and turning you into a permanent whore.
Cleaning my house and sleeping in a cage, servicing my well-hung lovers (I am never letting an unemployed former corporate power broker near my pussy, after all) and enduring a life of chastity will be your “new calling.” I will have you shopping for lingerie, buying my tampons at the corner drug store (how emasculating), and answering my door on date night.
Sleeping in your doggie cage outside my bedroom door, you’ll hear the moans of the well-hung corporate executives, some of them from your office, as they fuck me in ways you could barely remember! And when you are lucky, I may let you inside to clean my pussy and lap up every last glob of their cum.
Do you think you could fall that hard, that fast? Oh trust me, you can. And you will should I decide it. It just takes a click of the button, and tonight, when you get home, I will show you all the photos lined up, the email open in my Outlook file, and the email addresses of the most influential people at your office.
And it says “Are you sure you want to send?” – and all it takes is hitting the RETURN key to have it sent. And hovering above that key on the keyboard is a stapler held precariously by some string wrapped around a pulley, with the contraptions set so that you have to keep sucking my huge strap on and taking another cock up the ass – without moving – or else the button gets clicked.
I want to see just how long you can last – sucking and getting fucked – and when you stop moving, back and forth so your ass and mouth get impaled – the button is pressed. You need to keep it up for at least 40 minutes. That’s the timer.
I like to let your fate rest in your own hands (or ass), so I thought this would be the best way. As you are bobbing frantically on my cock, as your ass is being pounded, just think about that email on my screen that is about to be sent. Just think about the photos in the files that are attached. I am sure that will keep you highly motivated, and I know you work well under pressure!
See you soon, my whore!
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
