Message-ID: <33201asstr$1004656203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sandia@texas.net
Subject: {ASSM} "Kimberly"      M/F, Dom/sub, cheat, wife.     Rev.'d.  (2/3)
Date: Thu,  1 Nov 2001 18:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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"Kimberly"
By Sandia.

Story Codes:  M/F, Dom/sub, cheat, wife.

Comments/correspondence appreciated at sandia@texas.net.

Part II

One of the managers of our division called me to his office.  I had never been 
there before, and I wondered what he could possibly want with me.  I didn't 
think it could have anything to do with Tony; he'd been gone for weeks.  

The manager told me to shut the door and take a seat.  I sat down 
uncomfortably.  He was one of those men who'd been there forever, but nobody 
seemed to know.  

He smiled strangely at me.  I followed his eyes and noticed he had a little 
stack of micro-cassettes piled on his desk between us.  Swiveling away from me, 
he clicked on a little TV behind him.  What I saw there made me nauseous:  It 
was me; and I was mostly naked, and I had Tony's cock in my mouth.  

I stared in horror.  We were in the conference room.  I was on my knees.  Tony 
was leaning against the table, smiling down at me.  He stroked my face.  I 
remembered how good I'd felt when he had done that.  I watched as he looked up 
and grinned directly at the camera.  It was like getting punched in the gut.

I remembered all the things I'd done for him that time:  After it was over, I 
knew, I would touch his cum cooling on my thigh.  I would touch my finger to my 
lips, knowing it would please him to see me do that.  Why had he done this to 
me?

I looked away.  I felt stunned.

The manager had turned to face me.  "This is against company policy," he said.  
I could have died of shame.  "It's grounds for termination.  Automatic."  I 
couldn't bear to look at him.  I felt the ground spinning out from under me.  

"You know," he continued, "the safest thing for me would be to send these to 
corporate headquarters.  Nobody would question that."

I glanced up at him, my face burning with shame.  He was staring right at my 
chest.  On the TV screen behind him I saw Tony stripping me.

"You would be fired, of course, once the board saw what was on them."

I looked down.  I was too scared to talk.  The shame of what he was talking 
about was unbearable.  I remembered once I'd been scared of being fired for 
stealing money.

"They would send the originals to the lawyers, in case you tried to litigate.  
There'd be copies, of course.  Those could get passed around for years."

My chest heaved.  I couldn't imagine things getting any worse.

"I wouldn't be surprised if some of those made it back to you, or your husband, 
at some point."

I moaned out loud.

"Kim," he said, "you're married, what ten, eleven years?"

I nodded.  I could feel myself starting to cry.  This seemed like a nightmare.  

Tony, I saw, had turned me to face the camera; I was easing myself onto him. 

"You have two children?"

I nodded again, trying not to see the images on the screen.

"You go to church on Sunday?"

Tears started running down my cheeks.  I saw Tony was beginning to penetrate 
me; a look of pleasure crossed my face.

"They don't approve of this sort of thing, do they?"

I shook my head hopelessly.  "I'm... I'm so ashamed," I cried.  "Please," I 
said, "don't let anyone see... see me like this."  I glanced at the video.  Tony 
was squeezing my breasts; I was rotating myself around his cock.    

"What would your church group think about this?" he asked.

I let out a little sob.

"Or your husband?  Or your kids?"

I broke down crying.  I was horribly ashamed, and I was beginning to become 
afraid of HIM.  "I--I need my job," I cried.

"Kimberly," he said, "I know you do.  But this isn't just about your job.  This 
is about you:  your husband, your reputation... your family.  You'd lose 
everything, wouldn't you, if this got out?"  He paused.  It was like being 
flayed with a rusty knife.

"Stand up."

I glanced at him.  There was not a hint of compassion on his face.  I climbed 
trembling to my feet.

"These tapes belong to me now."  

I looked at him, a small glimmer of hope forming inside me.  He was still 
staring at my chest.

"Kimberly," he whispered.  "I could keep these secret." 

I smiled tremblingly at him.

"But I wonder if there's something you could do for me?"

I exhaled.  "Anything, Mr. Lambert," I breathed, wiping my cheeks.  "I'll do 
anything."  

"Do you really mean that?" he asked.

I nodded anxiously.  I would do anything.

"Good," he said.  He stared at me.  Tremblingly, I raised my hand to my chest.  
I knew what he wanted me to do.  

I unbuttoned the top button.  He smiled.  I undid the second, and he smiled 
more broadly.  I unbuttoned the third and the fourth, and then all of them.  I 
looked down and saw my breasts swelling out from under the bra I was wearing.  
I could feel my nipples pushing against the fabric.  I was disgusted with 
myself.  I couldn't believe my body was responding to this new humiliation.  

"Keep going, Kimberly," he said crudely, "I want to see your tits."

I slipped my blouse from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.  I unhooked 
the bra.  I held the cups against my chest for a moment.  I closed my eyes.  I 
glanced at the window.  There were people on the street below.  I let my bra 
fall to the floor as well.  I stared at the TV.  I was bouncing up and down on 
Tony's cock now; soon I would start to cum.  The manager cleared his throat.  

I unhooked my skirt and let that fall to the floor as well.

I knew he could see my nipples were swollen, and I wondered if the place 
between my legs would betray me as well.  I reflexively covered myself with my 
hands.

"Mr. Jones," I whispered, "Please let me go now."

He smiled at me.  "Kimberly," he said, "I don't think you understand the 
situation.  When you said you'd do anything, I think you meant it.  And I mean 
to take advantage."  He stopped.  He glanced at the tape behind him.  Tony was 
finished with me; I was climbing off of him.  I cringed at what I knew I'd see 
myself doing next.

"Let's be clear," he said.  "I intend to make good use of you; to use you 
anyway I want, until I get tired of you; to make you my fuck-toy, my cum-slut, 
my sex slave.  If you disobey me in anything, ANYTHING, I'll not only send 
these to headquarters, I'll make sure everybody you know, every single person, 
gets a copy.  Do you understand?"

I collapsed back into my seat, sobbing.  This was even worse than I could have 
imagined.  "You can call me Master," he laughed.  I soon learned that he meant 
that.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" 

I nodded miserably.

"Do you agree?"

I was still crying, but I managed.  "I'll--I'll do anything.  But p--please, 
don't let any--anyone see them," I begged him.

He must have watched me crying for a while.  After some time I heard him 
putting the tapes away.  He told me to stand up, which I did.  I saw he had a 
camcorder on his desk.  "Strip for me Kimberly."  I glanced at the 
recorder.  "YES, I'm going to be taping you, Kimberly, and NO, there's not a 
damn thing you can do about it.  Now... take... off... your... panties!"  

I wanted to cry again, but I was terrified, and I slipped my panties off my 
hips and onto the floor for him.  It was the most humiliating thing I'd done so 
far.  He was the next thing to a stranger to me.  He was utterly unattractive.  
He was an old man, balding and paunchy.  He continued taping me for a while, 
panning up and down my body, including my face.  

I was ashamed to be standing naked before him, ashamed of all things I knew he 
had seen me do on tape, ashamed of the things I was afraid he was going to make 
me do next, but also ashamed of what my body was doing to me.  I could feel 
myself swelling and slickening between my legs, and my nipples were swollen and 
sticking out.

He put the camera down and carefully set it on the edge of the desk, pointed at 
me.  

"Kim," he said, "from now on you will be my own personal slut.  You will do 
everything I tell you.  I will use you any way that pleases me.  You will not 
question anything I do to you.  Do you understand?"

I nodded, hanging my head.

"Say it back to me."

"I will do anything you... tell me to.  I will be... I will be your... personal... 
slut.  You will use me... anyway... that pleases you.  You can do whatever you want 
to me."

"Master," he said.

"M--master..." I said.

"Very good, Kim."  He looked down between my legs.  "Don't drip on my carpet, 
bitch."  He laughed at me.

He asked me personal questions, about my sex life, my boyfriends, and my 
husband.  He asked me about what I'd done for all of them, and I told him.  I 
told him I'd only been with one other man besides Tony and my husband.  I 
admitted I had enjoyed giving head to Tony, though I'd only done it twice for 
my own husband.  I told him about my honeymoon.  I told him I had never had a 
man in my ass, though Tony had threatened to do me there.  I told him about all 
the things I'd done for Tony, including the time with his girlfriend.  When he 
was through, I felt like even more of a slut than ever.  I remember hoping no 
one on the street below could see me standing there.  

He ordered me to stand next to his desk.  He took an ink marker and 
wrote "CUNT" above my pussy and "CUM-SLUT" on each of my thighs.   He told me I 
was no longer allowed to fuck my husband without permission.  

Carefully aiming his recorder at me, he had me finger myself to orgasm.  I was 
surprised at how easy it was, and how hard I came.  When I was done, he put me 
on my knees and unbuttoned himself.  He rubbed his dick on my face and on my 
tits.  When come started to leak, he rubbed the come on my lips.  "Lick your 
lips, bitch," he ordered me.  I did it.  He tasted foul.  "Open your mouth," he 
ordered.  He was much smaller than Tony was, smaller even than my husband.  He 
put his dick in my mouth and ordered me to suck on it.  He slapped my face and 
ordered me to keep my teeth off him.  He took my head in his hands by my hair 
and started fucking my mouth.  Even Tony had never done me like that.  (Not 
that he could have fit.)  He slapped my face when I started to gag.  When he 
came, he pulled out, and got his cum all over my face and hair and tits, as 
well as in my mouth.  He spurted his cum on my cheek, and on my eye, and in my 
hair.  He took my hand and rubbed the cum into my skin.  It was sticky and 
disgusting and made me smell terrible.  

"Keep rubbing," he said.  "You're going to leave my office like that, and 
you're going to work the rest of the day with my cum on your face.  If you 
don't want everyone to know, you'll rub as much of it in as you can."

I worked the rest of the day with Greg's cum on my face, desperately trying to 
avoid people.  I knew if I could smell it on myself, other people could smell 
it too.  When I got home I ran to the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw.  I 
forgot what he'd written on me and my husband came within seconds of seeing it 
there.  When he reached for me in bed, I told him my period had come early that 
month.  

The next morning, Greg set the rules for me.  I was not allowed to fuck my 
husband without permission.  I had to call him on the phone and 
whisper, "Master, may I let my husband fuck me?"

He made me wear skirts, but never panties.  I had to take them off and slip 
them in my purse when I got to work.  Often I had to do this in my cubicle, 
terrified someone would see.  I was never allowed to say "no" to him.  I called 
him "Sir" in public; in private I called him "Master."  I was to refer to 
myself as "your slut," or "your slave" when I spoke to him.  

I had to ask permission to go to the bathroom when I was at work.  You cannot 
imagine the humiliation of calling your boss at work and whispering, "Master, 
your slut needs to go to the bathroom."  I got so used to calling him master I 
had to be careful not to say it in public.

He enjoyed embarrassing me in public too.  Once he made me leave my blouse 
unbuttoned to my waist.  He made me wear a lacy bra that barely covered me, and 
it seemed every man on our floor came to "talk" to me that day.  Every one of 
them stared at my chest.  The women started whispering behind my back.  

He had hand signals he used to make me expose myself to him.  I had to learn to 
raise my skirt, spread my legs or bend over on command.  Another time he made 
me proposition a man at another bank.  I was made to ask him to put his finger 
in me during a meeting, wearing a short, short skirt and no panties, my legs 
spread wide under the table.  Thankfully, he didn't try to do it.  But after 
that I knew rumors were spreading about me.  Women began to avoid me at the 
office. 

Greg was an old man, but he liked to humiliate me even when he couldn't "finish 
me off."  He would punish me for any minor transgression, or just because he 
felt like it.  He liked to watch me cry.  He would pinch me, and spank my 
privates, and make me beg for mercy.  He would call me in his office just to 
make me strip, and then tell me to go back to work again.  

He liked to make me watch his tapes; seeing myself humiliated on video while he 
watched me cumming was incredibly degrading.  I had to beg him to let me stuff 
my panties in my mouth so his secretary wouldn't hear.  He taped everything he 
made me do, adding a new volumes to his collection.  Worst of all, he was 
consciously trying to make me pregnant; he said he wanted to see me bear his 
son.

Although my life at work had turned into a perfect hell, I tried to carry out 
the rest of my life as normally as possible.  I still went to church and to 
other functions.  I took care of my kids.  I tried to take care of my husband, 
as best I could, though I couldn't enjoy him in bed anymore, knowing I'd have 
to report to Master on what we'd done.  

I couldn't help thinking about it, though, and sometimes I would have what felt 
like panic attacks, where I would tremble and flush, terrified that everybody 
around me already knew.   

Eventually Master decided controlling my sex with my husband wasn't enough.  He 
decided to introduce humiliation and degradation into my marriage, as well as 
my workplace.

He ordered me to ask my husband to start fucking me in the ass.  

"Tonight," he said, "you will ask your husband for a spanking, and then you'll 
beg him to fuck your ass."  I was mortified.  He told me the reason I no longer 
enjoyed sex with my husband was that it was not degrading enough for me anymore.

He instructed me to wear my sexiest bra and panties; to get down on my knees, 
and to beg him for what he said I needed.  

"Make sure he smacks you hard enough.  I want to see bruises on your ass 
tomorrow.  When you're sure he's left bruises on you, tell him there's 
something you've always wanted him to do to you.  Something you're ashamed to 
ask.  Tell him that you've always wanted to feel his hard throbbing cock in 
your ass.  He'll fuck you there, slut, trust me."

I cried and pleaded with him, but he was inflexible.  I think he really got off 
on making me into a whore in front of my husband.  He told me if I didn't do 
it, he'd rent me out to strangers.

That afternoon, I sent the kids away.  I undressed and put on the bra and 
panties Master had selected.  The panties were designed to hang loosely off my 
butt cheeks, and revealed as much as they concealed.  The bra was a "push-up" 
bra, lacey and revealing.  When my husband got home from work I met him in the 
bedroom.  "Honey," I said, quickly sliding to my knees, "I have to ask you 
something."  He stared down at me, shocked to see me half-undressed and 
kneeling, like a perfect slut, in front of him.  "I--I" I said, unable to meet 
his eyes, "I need for you to spank me."  

I hung my head in shame.  There was silence for what seemed eternity.  Then he 
began slipping off his belt.  I was thrilled he would belt me; it'd make the 
bruises come much easier.  

I arranged myself on the bed, bending over the baseboard to make it easier for 
him.  I had no trouble with the begging to spank me harder; I wanted for it to 
hurt.  I felt I deserved it, after everything I'd done.  I didn't want him to 
stop until I was sure he'd left his marks on me.  

Afterwards I asked him for the ass fucking.  "Honey," I said, "there's 
something I've always wanted you to do to me..."  

I was surprised at how quickly he took me up.  This hurt too, of course, but I 
suppressed my cries of pain, and I managed to beg him to do me harder.  I 
wanted him to enjoy it, even if I could not.  It felt right to me that his 
pleasure cause me pain.  Afterwards I let him watch me rub myself to orgasm, 
for the first time in front of him.

I showed the bruises to my Master the next day, and he was pleased with me 
too.  He told me he was proud of me, that my husband had "broken me in."  He 
had me lick him to get him wet, and then he violated me there as well.  I 
didn't enjoy it at all, though he did let me finger myself while he did me.  

He said I was to let my husband ass-fuck me whenever he wanted, since I didn't 
enjoy it.  

I was happy that I was allowed to please my husband again, though it was hard 
to get over the sense of violation and humiliation I felt, when my husband 
chose to do me like that.  

Things went on this way for two more months.  

Then my husband found out.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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