I can just hear Julie say. “What happened to him? Isn’t that your corporate guy”?
“Yeah, he used to be.” Used to be. Nights, sleeping in a metal cage, a big dildo gag like a pacifier to silence your whimpers.
Good morning my corporate slut,
Do you ever wonder if one day I will wake up, and owning your cock simply will not be enough? It won’t be enough that you are my bitch behind those power suits, it won’t be enough that after a long day in the office you often find yourself being smothered by my ass.
Maybe I’ll just decide I want more of you. All of you. And that your corporate days are over. Maybe I have been taking all your money and hiding it away, for the one Monday that you will realize your life is changing forever.
You don’t enjoy that high-profile corporate job that much, after all, do you? I think it just strokes your manly ego to walk in there like you are running the show, to oversee those big corporate meetings, to do those “golf outings” with the sales team and talk bullshit all afternoon and call that “work.”
What if I take that all away from you, just like I took your cock? What if – one day – your life is going to be totally changed in an instant – and you will go from Corporate Slut to simply “whore” – my whore, all day, every day, dressed in pink lingerie, cleaning my house, running my errands and massaging my feet?
What a dramatic and painful transformation for you. I suppose I’d have to deal with you sulking and depressed for some time. I have some solutions though, the first one being the total removal of all use of your dick. Anything masculine, macho or male would be a thing of the past. A permanent, locked chastity device will remind you that your role, as my house bitch, is the top priority.
Since you will no longer have any corporate clothes, I think you’ll soon learn that you’re just a ‘pathetic little girl’ around the house, and when my girlfriends come over for afternoon champagne they’ll see you flitting around the house like a tarted up maid, and they’ll perhaps have a chuckle. “What happened to him? Isn’t that your corporate guy”? I can just hear Julie say.
“Yeah, he used to be.” Used to be. Nights, sleeping in a metal cage, a big dildo gag like a pacifier to silence your whimpers. You’ll dream of what it was like to rule the boardroom, to have all those young corporate execs looking up to you with awe. You’ll remember the national sales meetings and the critical business trips overseas. All a distant, fading memory, as your life is consumed with sucking my strap-on, eating from a dog bowl, and ultimately practicing for the dick-servicing duty that will be your ultimate goal.
Just how am I going to make all of this possible?
It starts quite simply with a package sent to your CEO in Boston. It’s actually a small box, it takes that much space to include all the videos on DVD, all the pictures of you (printed in fine, high-quality color) and audio recordings of our phone calls, where you agree, eagerly – in fact, beg – to compromise your company’s financial system – if I just told you to do so. Remember when you absolutely begged me to let you destroy your IT infrastructure, and admitted to me that your company really meant nothing to you – since you were nothing but a horny little bitch?
Surely that attitude – well, along with the pictures of you in lingerie sucking dick – will seal the deal. It helps that your new CEO is a woman. That’s why I waited until Sue was officially appointed. It just wouldn’t be as fun sending all those nasty materials to a male CEO. I prefer that a woman see you for all that you are – a horny, self-centered cocksucker. She will fire you in a flash, and perhaps pick up the phone and call me.
See, in the box, I included an invitation for her to join our little games. I know you have remarked that she looks hot and you’ve fantasized about having her fuck you in the ass with a strap-on (yes, I included that conversation in the box, also – I am sure she will find it amusing). For all you know, she’s already in on it. For all you know, I have already been in touch with her. Maybe she’s really a sadist deep down and is fully on board with the idea of degrading you.
One thing is for sure. When she is in town next week for the national sales meeting and your phone rings and she calls you downstairs for a “brief face-to-face,” you are going to be sweating bullets. Of course, under your corporate suit, you will be in red crotchless panties, a pink butt plug, and thigh-high stockings. Will she already know that?
How much will you be able to keep your “cool”? Is this just a test, or is it the end of your career? When you are sweating and uncomfortable, is she going to fire you anyway, because for a powerful executive you can’t even fumble your way through a few business questions without looking like you are going to throw up?
Are you going to use the sissy boy excuse, that you have “a touch of the flu”? Honey, bitches at your level don’t get the “flu” when they are nervous, pathetic boys. She will read between the lines.
In fact, don’t be surprised if she tells you to close the door and pull down your pants. Won’t that be hysterical? Will you wonder what she is going to do? Will you wonder if I am in that office somewhere, listening, giggling, smirking at your desperate embarrassment?
The reality is that you will never know what is going to happen. But you know enough about me to know that I take your slavery very seriously, and every now and then, I need a dramatic and intense shift. I think your corporate world is boring. I think I need more of your ass, more of your tongue. I think I am sick and tired of your work taking priority – there’s only so much shopping a woman can do. It’s time for you to spend a little more energy on me – and at home. Amusing, pleasing, and arousing me.
If it means a package to your CEO…well, perhaps it is already on the way. You’ll know soon enough.
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
