Reduced To An Orgasmic Wreck


My name is Susan Jones, I am forty years old and I am a high-flying businesswoman. I work for a large corporate company that you would know, which is why I am not telling you the name. I am very successful at work; not so much in my private life. I have one failed marriage and three failed relationships. Don’t ask? I don’t exactly know what went wrong with them, but they all failed miserably and it all came down to the sex. It may have been me, but I like to think it was the men.I was beginning to wonder whether I should become a lesbian, perhaps try my hand with the fairer sex. In the past, I have seen a few women in meetings and conferences that simply oozed sexuality, and they knew it. Throughout my career, I have only known one woman that took my fancy. It wasn’t how she looked; though she had a fantastic figure, with long legs and very prominent breasts. No, it was what she said and how it was said. Everything sounded erotic. She had a deep husky voice. I found myself talking to her once, by the bar; following a conference that we attended. We started chatting about men. Her voice intoxicated me. Every time she mentioned the words cock or balls she seemed to emphasise the vowel, even in phrases that were not sexual in nature. Nothing happened with her, I just wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. I’m not sure I am now.In my line of work, I come across many people. Some are dominant and some submissive. Meetings are interesting; you can feel the men vying for dominance or willing themselves to be the favourite. In my position, I had that power over people and I knew I could use it to get what I wanted though I hoped, I never abused my position of authority. I always looked down on juniors as if they would, one day, become my boss.Recently, though, my life has changed and I find myself having urges to do things that I would not ordinarily do. I fantasise about being dominated; a submissive wanting to please someone else, anyone else. When I fantasize, my urges are normally sexually related, but even if someone ordered me to do something in work, in a tone that was demanding, I may well react by saying ‘Yes, sir’. Perhaps, deep down in my psych, I need to be dominated to balance my position of power. A month ago, I started seeing a psychologist; I had to make sense of my feelings. I was glad that she was a woman and that she had some experience under her belt. I couldn’t have coped with a twenty-something year old, fresh out of college, isvecbahis telling me all about myself. We have had four sessions, and, to be honest, I don’t know where I am going with it. I explained to her how I like to be submissive or exposed and how I would like for someone to order me to do something. I don’t think the shrink understands me. She sits there saying very little; just nodding her head now and then. When she speaks, her head is always lowered and she talks to me over the top of her glasses; her voice always calm and sometimes, even salacious, but always unprovocative. Her choice of words sometimes intrigues me; bordering on suggestiveness. At one point I thought she was going to give me an address where I could go to fulfill my fantasies.The last time we met, I stopped talking; I wondered how long it would take her to say something and break the silence. I started the stopwatch on my wrist. It was a good five minutes before she asked me whether anything was wrong. Not bad money for five minutes of silence. I wish I got paid that much for keeping my mouth shut.At that session, she startled me. She asked me round to her place for dinner one evening. I wasn’t sure whether to accept or not. Was she breaking professional standards here? Did she fancy me? Was this part of her research? Or did she really want to have a casual chat outside the confines of her, nicely furnished, yet oppressive office.I accepted. I’m inquisitive by nature and I wanted to know where she was going with this.I was given a card with the address on it, “Who should I ask for?”She smiled, “Emily Stephens-Brown.”I knew that of course, I had booked an appointment with her secretary for these sessions, but I needed to make a point. I mean, who gives a business card to people without their name on it.I was told to dress smartly as if I was attending a special event or a party. I left her office, in the lift I shouted out, “At fucking last, someone is telling me what to do!”I turned up at her apartment building. She lived in a very impressive building. I pressed the button and spoke my name followed by who I wanted to see. The door opened and I entered the foyer. An attendant escorted me to the lift. He allowed me to enter it; pressing the button for the fifth floor, before removing his hand. The lift crept upwards. I watched the numbers increase slowly; associated with the obligatory ping. The lift finally stopped and the doors opened. I was amazed to find another isveçbahis giriş attendant waiting for me outside the lift. I was escorted to room fifty-seven, turning a corner before arriving at it. The attendant knocked the door for me. I was not unfamiliar with this level of grandeur, but even these attendants were a little too high class for me. This was a posh place. I turned to the attendant, “What’s your name?”“Brian, Ma’am.”“Thank you so very much, Brian, you have been so helpful.”Brian nodded his head as the door opened and Emily Stephens-Brown stood there dressed in white. “Hi, come in, Susan.”“Hiya.” It was all I could say. She looked stunning. Her body contrasted heavily with the white satiny dress; as she turned I could see it was virtually backless, the curve of the dress resting elegantly across the small of her back, emphasising her buttocks. Her black hair shimmered like silk over her black body. I entered the room behind her and closed the door. We walked down a corridor and into a large reception area. At the far end was a table; laid out for a meal for two. It looked a swell place to live. I was captivated by the whole room before I heard Emily’s voice.“You can close your mouth, it’s not that grand a place.”I hadn’t realised that my mouth was open, but she was right. “It’s beautiful, elegant and simple. I would love it here,” I remarked.“It costs, but I can afford it,” she replied.I nodded, at her rates, I knew she could.A waiter, yes, a waiter approached us with two glasses of champagne. We both took a sip before Emily motioned me to the table. Just beyond it was a vast window that overlooked the city. “Wow, look at that view.”I slipped past the dining table to admire the view. The city was vast; sprawled before me like a carpet of light. Though we were only five floors up, you had a wonderful view and you could also see the people below. There were few cars that passed the road I was looking out onto. It seemed a quiet neighbourhood.Emily grabbed my attention and we sat to eat the meal she had planned. I can’t say she prepared it because the waiters brought it in. I presumed there were chefs in the kitchen, handmaidens in the loo, and a personal attendant that helped to dress and undress her.The evening was wonderful, the conversation was light with plenty of room to change the topic of conversation or take another track. She spoke openly about herself and I did the same. Emily leant towards me after the dessert isveçbahis yeni giriş was cleared and rested one of her elbows on the table in front of her. I couldn’t fail to notice how her breasts swung beneath her satin dress. In fact, I had noticed lots about her since I entered her den of iniquity. How she smiled at me, how she crossed her arm over her chest and rested her fingers on her shoulder when expressing anything sexually related. I wondered whether she was doing that so she could brush her arm against her nipples. I noticed how her nipples poked out from beneath her dress a few times throughout the evening. I must have been giving off similar signs because our visual innuendos were becoming far worse than they were when we started the evening. Her dark brown eyes pierced mine. Emily licked her red lips and then bit her lip. “What?” I said.“You do know that tonight,” she paused, “will be the first night you realise your dreams.”“What do you mean?”“I’m referring to your wants and needs, your cravings, your appetite for being a slut and exhibitionist.”Her words shocked me at first, but then I smiled, “And who is going to make me do that? Your waiters? The chef? The attendants?”“Me.”“You!” I exclaimed.“Well, I’m not going to make you, but my words are.”“Your words…”“We’re going to play a game, are you up for it?”“What sort of game?”“I instruct you what to do and you play the part. No questions asked. The word ‘no’ is forbidden. If you let me so much as utter the next instruction, then you have to do it.”She hadn’t taken her eyes from mine throughout the whole conversation.“I think you’ll like what I have planned for you,” she continued.“What if I say no? What if I leave right now?”“Then you will never know what you’ve missed, or how close you became to being free. Sexually free that is.”The words ‘sexually free’ were good words to use, it struck lots of chords that echoed around my head and made my skin tingle. I liked the way the conversation was going and I was becoming more aroused as time went by. Emily had a way with words that enticed me. The way she phrased them were sensuality in the making.I smiled, half biting my lip as I did so, “What is your first command? Emily.”Her tone suddenly changed from soft whispers to firmly clipped words. I liked how she formed them when she spoke, “Stand up, now!”I rose from my seat and stood by the table.“Get over by the window, place your hands on the glass and spread your legs.”Shocking words from a psychiatrist, I thought, but I did as I was told. The glass was a little cold to the touch, I hadn’t expected that. I found my chest heaved with the expectation of her next command. “Unbutton your blouse, slowly.

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