0 comments/ 31824 views/ 0 favorites Taming the Scribe Ch. 1 By: Kosovo-6 ZAGREB CHEESEBURGER I woke from the dream with a raging hard-on of an intensity seldom known these days by a body that has seen almost eight decades. Still slumped in the ancient recliner, with a glass of 25 year old single malt by my side and the embers of a December blaze dying in the fireplace, I battled with my mind for a few moments in that nether region where one is truly neither awake or asleep. Mustering the discipline to let the disappeared images linger, I subtly manipulated the throbbing sensation that remained the spiritual gateway to my dream. Then, like an avalanche, the dream returned, cascading down the slippery slopes of an old man's mind. After all these years I had been thinking of Jennifer! Quickly I filed a handful of the long forgotten erotic images to the mental archives as I poured myself another tumbler of the smooth whiskey. Many years had passed since we had communicated and probably twenty since I had seen her last. A smile played across my lips as I fully realized, as only the reflection of time long passed allows, how Jennifer had served as the catalyst for my remarkable transformation -- and the journey into submission I began during the second half of my life. Jennifer was the first woman to ever dominate me. Some dozen years after we had first met, she returned into my life as my immediate supervisor at the Outfit and instantly began to mould me into a form designed solely to service her career needs. She made it clear early on she planned to break through the Outfit's glass ceiling and into the seventh floor executive suites -- and those that worked for her were expected to devote themselves to this cause. Her methods in breaking me were clinical and always professional in nature, except for one notable exception; and in all honesty I deserved everything that occurred during that remarkable session as it was payback for the first time we met. When her next promotion came she moved to the fourth floor and another woman took her slot. I did not know it then but I had been thoroughly prepared by her skillful ministrations for the years of domination that would follow at the hands of the Outfit's female staff. During that tenure my butt would be blistered in countless sessions with the paddle and the strap, and on rare occasion even the cane. Within a year of Jennifer's arrival my bare bottom had been soundly spanked a half dozen times at the office. Then somewhat later a new phase of my torment was initiated. Jennifer introduced my virgin ass to the world of strap-on accommodation and from then on I lived in constant dread of that brutal tool. It was only used as the most severe form of punishment, yet the sinister joy that she and the others in her circle took when penetrating my dark passage on those occasions made me tremble with a fear still unmatched in my experience. Some two dozen times over the following years I knew the distinct pop of the latex head as it passed my stretched barrier, and then the long agony that followed. I remember with absolute clarity each and every such emasculating violation. However I am getting ahead of the story. Please forgive an old man as his mind wanders back to his days in the saddle. Let me put another log on the fire and pour myself one more glass of this fine whiskey -- and then I will tell you about meeting Jennifer again, a dozen years after I fucked her brains out one New Years Eve in New Orleans.... ****** Getting a decent meal at the Zagreb airport is no easy task. One small restaurant shares space with a coffee bar upstairs on the observatory level and the menu there is less than inspiring. However after nearly a month in Bosnia the airport cheeseburger had begun to take on mythic proportions in my fevered imagination. I had just dropped my client Walter off downstairs to join the crowd catching the Friday afternoon shuttle to Dubrovnik, and was indulging myself before my flight to London. I was wondering if the waiter had understood medium well to mean my burger, instead of how I felt, when I heard chatter behind me. "Hi Craig! Whatcha doin'?" a cooing female voice asked. When I looked up to see Jeanette and Ellen standing by my side, I couldn't help but notice they were both grinning like a couple of school girls. "Waiting for the flight to Gatwick. What are two American girls doing in a place like this? I heard you were going to Dubrovnik with everybody and that you had tickets to Sting, Ellen." At 5'6" Ellen stood half a foot shorter than the towering Jeannette, wore glasses that gave her a serious intellectual look, and had a smile that could warm the coldest room. I had just met her a week earlier when we had run up to the Croatian capital from Banja Luka and was eager to get on her good side. Ellen had been responsible for a moderate ticket coming to power in the previous Croatian elections, after Tudjman had died, by running a grass roots democracy programme liberally funded by the Outfit. She was a rising star and the word was she would be involved in ousting Milosevic from Serbia when the time came. "Sure do," she replied. "We thought you would be coming to Dubrovnik with Walter. We saw him at the gate downstairs and he said you were up here. In a hurry to get back to the States?" "Oh Craig probably just wants to check in with those Brits he consults with," Jeanette interjected. "He's always so close mouthed about his friends in London and Oxford. But that's beside the point. We just wanted to share some news you may not have heard down in Bosnia." They were both grinning ear to ear now and I knew something was up. Jeanette paused for a moment, a twinkle in her eye, and then a wink for Ellen. I had met her the previous year and knew very little of what she did with the American Embassy in Croatia. She was constantly back and forth to Paris and Brussels, and always dressed the part of the sophisticated European businesswoman in muted colours that hugged her trim athletic figure. I knew she had a sharp tongue and a reputation as being hell on wheels with anybody that got in her way. Fortunately we were both on the same team. She leaned forward to give me a two cheek kiss as Ellen exclaimed, "You've got a new boss. Jennifer is taking over your department!" As Ellen's words came tumbling out, Jeanette allowed her embrace to linger just a beat and with her left hand reached under my jacket and gave my right butt cheek a long firm squeeze. "You had better tighten up Craig," she whispered in my ear, "or Jennifer will have your ass." As suddenly as they appeared they were gone. Amazingly the cheeseburger arrived cooked to perfection, but I was no longer hungry. To Be Continued... Taming the Scribe Ch. 2 As the flight to London leveled off I began to construct my report outline from the scattered notes accumulated during the previous three weeks. After ten minutes and three false starts I said to hell with it and asked the stewardess for a couple Chivas miniatures. The short flight to Gatwick would be the perfect opportunity to think about this development with Jennifer and gather my thoughts. I was not scheduled back in the office for another week and had plenty of time to prepare my report. The first plastic cup of scotch went down smoothly. I would sip the second and allow my mind to wander.... I couldn't believe Deion Sanders was still playing in the NFL but I remembered somewhere that he was with the Redskins now. "Neon" Deion they had first called him back in college at Florida State when Bobby Bowden was still a few years from having a national title contender every year. Deion was a flashy cornerback that made headlines and added a couple ticks to the point spread every time the Seminoles played. The night before his last college football game, the Sugar Bowl on New Year's night 1989 versus Auburn, Jennifer and I had an evening we both would remember for a very long time. Paul and I had been going to the Sugar Bowl every other year or so since we had gotten out of college. We always stayed at the Marriott down by the French Quarter, gambled heavily on the game, and did our fair share of drinking. When he became engaged to Beth it was only natural that her crowd would join in for these annual trips. She had been a sorority girl at the University of Texas and as luck would have it Jennifer was one of her best friends from the house. The first time I saw Jennifer she took my breath away. She was wearing an oversized UT sweatshirt and a pair of old jeans that were tight in all the right places. I saw her spectacular ass first and as she pivoted to greet me the denim clung briefly to her crack, stretching the worn fabric tightly across the butt I suddenly desired. I tore my eyes from that marvelous sight in time to see the faintest outline of her breasts under her heavy cotton top. God, she had a pair! Then I saw that angelic face and knew I had to have her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from her second vodka and cranberry juice, which only accentuated the dazzling blue eyes that gazed over me. Dark brown hair framed the sexiest cheekbones I had ever seen and her smile was slow and demure. When she flicked an errant drop from her full lips, with a languid movement of her tongue just as our eyes met, I found myself unable to halt a rapidly developing erection. She was there with Tommy, but they both made it clear from the start they were no longer boyfriend/girlfriend but merely sharing a room as old friends to keep expenses down. Tommy was also a friend of Paul's and I had known him for a couple years. At the first opportunity I cornered him at the bar and told him I thought Jennifer was hot. Did I have any kind of chance with her? "If she likes you, you sure do. The girl loves to drink and raise hell," he replied before pausing for a moment. "But be careful. She's a tiger in bed and believe me she will wear your ass out if she gets on a roll." I only talked to her briefly then but we all agreed to meet later in the evening for dinner and a night on the town taking in the New Years Eve festivities. When I got back to my room there was a note from the guys I was sharing it with saying they were heading for a party on the other side of town and would likely be out all night. The main thing they emphasized was to get our bets down on Auburn immediately as the price was dropping. They would see me tomorrow. It took me two hours to get our action down. The game had opened Florida State by six points and heavy Auburn action had knocked the price down, but I felt good in getting five and a half points with the Tigers after a good deal of shopping. Each of us had a dime on the game and we all thought it would be low scoring. Every point would be crucial. By the time I caught up with the gang they were feeling no pain after a couple of bottles of wine at dinner. Tommy pulled me aside with a big grin on his face. "Jennifer told me I could have the room tonight if I wanted it. Then I heard her tell Beth you were going to get lucky. Son, I hope you like to eat pussy because you are going to feast tonight!" With that heads-up I started making sure every drink that came to Jennifer was a double, while I kept topping up my lone scotch with water. Shortly we found ourselves separated from the crowd and on a side street in the Quarter. I pulled her into a deserted doorway and looked straight into those deep blue eyes, but before I could make a move she cupped my chin with both hands and pulled my mouth down to hers. A full minute later she broke the kiss and took me by the hand. "Lets go to your room," was all she said as she led me back to the hotel. I kissed her again in the elevator while she slipped her hand between her legs for a moment. As the elevator door opened she took her scented, sticky index finger and wiped it across my upper lip. When we entered the room she softly whispered, "Strip, and then lie face up on the bed. I hope you are a patient little boy who can do as he's told." I did as she commanded and noticed the bed side clock read 11:30. For the next hour I ate her pussy. Quickly I realized her mastery of riding the male tongue as she instructed me to bring my hands together and lay them horizontally above my head. As she lowered that magnificent ass onto my face, she squeezed my upper arms together with her muscular legs. Now pinioned and completely helpless, she gave each of my nipples an evil pinch that made me scream into her sopping wet pussy. With my mouth now open she placed her clit between my lips and merely said, "Show me how much you want to fuck me." We did not change positions for sixty minutes and when finally she let me up the crazed look in her eyes told me I had met my match. My tongue was raw from the constant pounding she had given me and her countless orgasms had drenched my face with her juices. "I guess your cock is hard enough now to give me what I need. Fuck me doggy style like you mean it," she commanded. As she positioned herself on all fours I was mesmerized by that hot sweaty ass. I don't know if the light coming through the closely drawn drapes was from the moon, or more likely, the evening glow from the city, but the narrow beam framed perfectly that classic eroticism which had first spoken to my soul. Then, as if the Gods themselves were whispering to me, an idea flashed through my brain. I had certainly paid my dues with the hellion and thus her ass would be mine this night! As I stroked her pussy from behind I leaned over to the desk drawer and pulled out a small jar of Vaseline positioned there for exactly this possibility. I scooped out half the container and slowly began to lubricate my cock with a thick film of the penetrating gel. As I continued to stroke her pussy from behind I drooled a small gob of spittle down the crack of her ass and, as it ran down her clenched rosebud, I slowly pressed my index finger against her opening. She whimpered then, still unsuspecting as I entered her with one finger. "Fuck me now," she begged. And so I did. With my legs inching up behind her open thighs and evenly spread for maximum leverage, I grabbed her hips with both hands and plunged my rock hard cock into her virgin ass to the hilt. The cry that came from her lips was a dizzying mosaic of pleasure laced with pain as her body shook with a massive orgasm. She gasped for breath. Again and again I impaled that sweet ass until my aching balls could hold back no longer. The explosion of cum that mixed with Vaseline to coat her slippery passageway was the longest and most satisfying of my life. I had rode the tiger and come out on top. Exhausted we both fell into a deep sleep. The next morning the phone's constant ringing brought me back to my senses. My buddies had survived the night downtown and were on the way back. Were the bets down they asked? As I assured them they were I saw on the mirror a note from Jennifer written in scarlet lipstick, "I will never forget last night. J" I looked for Jennifer at the game but couldn't find her and had not seen her since. The boys all got drunker than hell that night as Auburn lost 13-7 when "Neon" Deion intercepted the Tiger's last pass in the endzone with less than thirty seconds to go. Five and a half points had not been enough. The fasten seat belt sign rang on as we began our descent into Gatwick. The scotch combined with the fatigue of the Bosnian trip had brought the memories back to me with a crystal clarity. I remembered it all, from the salty taste of her pussy to the viselike grip of her ass as I pounded her back door. God what a woman.... Now Jennifer was to be my new boss. Something told me I had better get myself prepared. To Be Continued... Taming the Scribe Ch. 3 Nine days later I was back in the Outfit's DC office, where I spend one week a month. My relationship with the Outfit is that of a contractor of more or less permanent status. I share the office with three others and each of us has their own week of the month to work there and be available to senior staff. The small consulting firm I run in the South allows me to keep a certain level of autonomy while charging the Outfit a premium rate for my time and effort. However the fact my agreement must be renewed every six months is a constant reminder I am not staff, and work only at the continued pleasure of my department head. I turned my computer on to find a secure email from Personnel advising me of Jennifer's appointment and suggesting I make arrangements to visit with my new supervisor. There was also a much less formal email from her asking me to report to her office at 3pm. I busied myself tidying up some loose ends, skipped lunch, and at the appointed hour found my way to her third floor office and knocked on the door. "Come in," she said. I walked in the door as she rose to greet me from behind the large desk centering the rear third of the room. Her smile was dazzling and she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek while shaking my hand. "Hello Craig, its great to see you again. You look absolutely wonderful, lets sit on the sofa shall we?" The black leather sofa was long and soft, a holdover from the previous occupant. I slid down into the corner while she drew a file from her desk. When she sat on the sofa not three feet from me I could make out the subtle scent of Chanel Number 5, and subconsciously began to let my guard down. We chatted for twenty minutes about a wide range of topics and I said more than I wanted to but I couldn't help it. She was wearing a navy blazer with a classic over the knee khaki skirt that rode up ever so slightly when she crossed her legs. Legs that were much trimmer and shapely than I remembered from before. Her hair was cut shorter now in the fashion favoured by the DC career woman during the hot summer months. It was lighter and I guessed she highlighted it, as at 35 or so she might be seeing the first signs of grey. Damn! We were talking business and experience told me she would cut to the chase at any moment. Instead of focusing I was trying to imagine if that wonderful ass had toned up like her legs. I managed to shake that thought only to glance down at her chest when she turned her head briefly -- to get a look at those magnificent breasts. But the damned blazer was buttoned and the filled white cotton blouse only hinted at what I knew to be below. That night so long ago I had managed no more than a brief glimpse and a soft squeeze of those tits. They were the size of cantaloupes, nicely rounded and firm. Surely if.... "Craig! Are you paying attention here?" she said as she looked at me with something of a smile playing across those luscious lips. I merely nodded, but once caught, I was all business now. "I was saying that your work is absolutely top rate. Your reports are always among the best in your group and you have distinguished yourself when working in the field. Then her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped a notch. There is only one problem we have with you Craig and I'm afraid it simply must be corrected." Her blue eyes burned into mine as she continued, "Your reports are often late, more so than the rest of the department combined. Craig, in my Terms of Reference it states in most specific terms that I will be held responsible for bringing you in line with departmental policy. What do you think I should do about this?" She was right but I was not about to admit it. I took pride in my analytical skills and refused to submit a report or paper until I thought it was perfect. I was always wandering off on tangents to find that last elusive piece of the puzzle. Often I missed the deadline. "Jennifer I'm sure I will do better," I said with my most sincere look. She giggled and suddenly I was looking not into the eyes of the professional DC staffer but that recent college grad of so many years ago. "Oh sweetie I know you will, I just do. That's why I feel so silly about this new discipline policy I've instituted for you. I'm sure it will never come to it but let me go over it briefly, OK?" "Your report deadline for days you are in the office will be 8am. I don't want you to be rushing to finish something during the days you are here and have meetings and such. When you are traveling in the field or with your consulting firm the deadline for work due on that day will be 5pm Washington time. Understand so far?" I nodded my head. "Craig, part of how I will be evaluated in this slot will be based on how well you shape up. Now not only have I pledged to whip you into shape but I have also suggested a slight increase in your work load. It will be tough for you but here's how I can be certain you will succeed." With that she reached under the sofa and pulled out a long wooden sorority paddle and smacked it forcefully against her open palm. She leaned forward and suddenly I had just a glimpse of her swelling cleavage. "Craig, the first time you miss a deadline you will report to my office for a disciplinary session. You are then going to bend over my desk and I am going to give you twenty smacks on your bare ass with this old thing. I play a good deal of tennis and racquetball these days so I can assure you your bottom will be quite toasty when I'm finished." I stood up, furious. "Jennifer the only thing that's finished is this conversation. If you think..." "Sit down!" she commanded. "If you ever raise your voice like that to me again you will regret it, I assure you. You work for me and at my pleasure Craig." I sat back down and she leaned forward, her face only inches from mine, as she placed the heavy paddle across my lap. "If I were to tell you right now to slide down this sofa and eat my pussy out you would -- if you knew what was good for you..." She stood up abruptly and pulled me to my feet like a football player helping a teammate up. Her grip was strong and powerful. Suddenly she was all sweetness again. "But I know you won't be tardy Craig. We're going to be a great team. I just know it." With that, my first meeting with Jennifer in almost twelve years came to a merciful conclusion. To Be Continued... Taming the Scribe Ch. 4 Jennifer was right, my work did improve. Whether it was the energy she brought to our group or the subconscious fear of having my ass blistered I don't know, but through the summer I turned out some of my best work and did not come close to missing a deadline. My analysis of the Bosnian situation was consistently on the mark and I knew Jennifer was scoring points with the top floor. I had become intrigued by the situation in Chechnya and had written a proposal for a comprehensive study. My thesis stated that the Chechen rebels would certainly defeat the Russian Federation in a long war of attrition that would be a constant threat to the new oil and gas pipeline being constructed to the west from Baku. My preliminary research indicated the best policy for the new American administration would be to work covertly to increase the fighting strength of the rebels to the point where a settlement could be negotiated. Jennifer was on a roll now and she told me she was pushing to have the study funded. One Monday I arrived in the office and saw a brief email from her advising me I would be attending a political fund raiser the next night. Our relationship was good and she teased me with her last line, an admonition to wear a decent suit "-- if you have one. J" The Vice-President and the Governor of Texas were locked in a close duel for the White House that summer with most of the analysts calling it a toss-up. When I arrived at the stately Georgetown address I honestly did not know if it was a Republican or Democratic function -- and didn't care. I could tell you the ins and outs of most of the Balkan elections that year but really did not give a damn who became the next president of the US. When you work with the Outfit you avoid American politics if you're smart. I wandered the crowd, enjoying the superb single malt provided by my host, or perhaps hostess. I still am not sure exactly who was throwing the party. Then I saw a stunning brown haired woman in a simple black cocktail dress. She wore it knowing it will always be in style on a beautiful woman and I knew, for that night at least, I was pulling for the Texas Governor. Elizabeth worked as a staffer for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and was as connected as anybody in Washington. Her eyes caught mine from across the room and the warm smile that beckoned me was genuine, a rare sight in a town of phonies hedging their bets that summer. Twenty minutes later I found my way to her side to say hello. She introduced me to a western Congressman as "Craig, who is doing a new study on Chechnya that we will all be taking a hard look at next year." Grinning like an idiot I just mumbled something as Elizabeth winked at me. Jennifer had done it! The rest of the affaire was less than memorable and I was soon on my way. That week we moved into overdrive at the office and soon I was swamped with work. Everything would have been fine if Yugoslavia had not heated up in September. My work on Bosnia was continuing but rumours out of Belgrade suggested Milosevic was on the ropes which would affect everything if the Serb despot was toppled. While I was away on a dark trip to the East for a couple of weeks, a contingency was activated which moved my deadline up a week to the October Monday I was due in the office: Milosevic's Socialist government was overthrown! The thing about a dark trip is that it is exactly that. No one knows where you are or what you are tasked with. My contact was William, an old friend in Sarajevo and a veteran of the Outfit. He only knew I would transit to Istanbul, although I'm fairly sure he knew my ultimate destination. We had worked in the field together before and he knew the score. Jennifer would not be in the loop on this one as there were just certain things the DC staff didn't need to know about. That was policy. I strolled into the office a little before 9am that Monday fatigued from my long journey but feeling good about the trip. I had accomplished a great deal. That happy feeling lasted only long enough for me to turn on the computer and check my emails. There was a scathing note from Jennifer telling me how disappointed she was in my failure to meet my deadline. She informed me I was to be at her office at 8:15 that evening. I spent the rest of the day figuring out what had happened. I was in a jam because I couldn't tell her about the trip and even if I could it wouldn't matter. I had missed the deadline and for the rest of the day I was edgy with fear. A quarter past eight found me standing at her door and knocking firmly. "Come in", she said. I entered the office and approached her desk. She rose from behind it and I knew immediately she meant business. The dark charcoal jacket matched her above the knee skirt and set off the black sheer stockings to perfection, and as she came around the desk I saw the high heeled shoes. Still giddy from the trip and mentally fatigued I was no match for her. I felt a tingling in my groin. Her lips were painted a darkest of crimson that said, "Fuck me ... if you're man enough." Her blue eyes were glazed over and seemed deepened in colour, the effect of her blouse which I could just make out under the jacket. In her right hand she held the paddle, tapping it at her side. My dick was getting hard. That sorority paddle was about 18 inches long and probably five wide. I had thought about it a good deal in the days after first seeing it. It was well lacquered and I knew the half inch hard wood thickness would wear my ass out. As she twirled it expertly in her hand, something about it caught my eye and for the first time I knew real fear. The smooth striking surface now sported several holes which I knew cut down on air resistance and would add velocity to her stroke. "Craig, you have really fucked up," she said as she kicked off her shoes. "I don't want to hear a single word out of that pathetic mouth of yours. Now drop your trousers." I did as she commanded, transfixed as she removed her jacket. Her blouse was a royal blue sleeveless satin creation which clearly demonstrated her breasts. If anything, those succulent beauties were even larger than I remembered and, with her breath coming quicker, I could clearly see them tease the fabric -- unhindered by any support. "Notice these holes?" she hissed, "I drilled them myself at lunch today and they're each half an inch across. When that chubby ass of yours gets ripped through these holes... well... I think you'll learn your lesson. My cotton briefs, now stained with a single drop of pre-cum, could barely restrain my bulging cock. "Bend over here," she said while tapping the corner of the desk on my left hand side, "and grab the far end of the desk." I did and, as she leaned forward to slowly slide my briefs to my lower thighs, she whispered in my ear, "Craig I am going to give you twenty smacks on that sorry ass of your's to discipline you for missing the deadline. Try and be a man about it, however...." and with that she paused to give my ass a squeeze. "If you move your hands from the desk or in any way try to avoid the paddle I will add a punishment phase to the session. That session will be of an intensity you cannot imagine. Now tighten that butt sweetie -- in thirty minutes you'll be a changed man!" CRAACK!! The first swat took my breath away as it landed squarely on my sit spot just above my thighs. I tightened my grip and thought this wasn't too bad. CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! The next four missiles impacted on the same spot within seconds of each other. I let out a guttural scream and buried my head on her desk. "Quiet you pussy!" she said. "Another word and I'll gag you." The next five forehand smashes assaulted my left ass cheek with a ferocity that left me begging inside for the tender love taps of the first set. I knew what was coming with the next five but was defenceless as she pounded my right cheek and I began to sob as they landed. Tears were running down my face and I knew there was no way I could take five more of those bullets. "Jennifer for God's sake, please stop," I begged. "I've learned my lesson." "I'm sure you have," she said in an exaggerated Texas drawl. "That's why I'm going to make these last five so special! Now that you've learned your lesson darlin' I want to make sure you remember it." With that teasing voice floating through my ringing ears she delivered the decisive blow. It was a low rising smack that caught me just above my lowered briefs, in a spot until then untouched by her butt blistering delivery. I jumped up screaming as I rubbed the fireball that was my ass with both hands. The next thing I knew she had her hand under my balls and gave them a crushing squeeze that dropped me to my knees. "Damn you Craig! Now you've done it you little slut. Stand up and lean over the other side of the desk. I'm going to give you five penalty strokes now and if you move I swear to God I'll give you fifty! "she said through clenched teeth. She was breathing hard now and her face was flushed. Those blue eyes had a maniacal look that we used to call the thousand yard stare a decade ago when I was a hundred years younger. I bent over the right hand side of that desk and could only figure I was going to taste her backhand. Unfortunately I was correct. In those few seconds she had calmed down some and began to tell me about her tennis game. I didn't give a damn. My ass was on fire as the raging sting overwhelmed any ability I still had to think and this bitch was babbling about her tennis game! I was scarcely listening as she told me her favourite player growing up had been Chris Evert. "I just loved Chrissie,"she said in what sounded like a little girl's voice. "The way she always fought against that mean old Martina with her two handed backhand. I practiced it for hours growing up, and now I would like to share it with you Craig." BOOOOM!! I heard the sound barrier broken a moment before I felt the impact of that wicked device delivering the hardest lick of the night. Within a millisecond the shock had raced to my brain as the perfectly placed swat re-ignited the fires on my sit spot from those first five delivered an eternity ago. Waves of pain engulfed me as the red-hot raw skin of my ass was squeezed through those punishing holes when her strong wrists snapped at impact. BOOOOM!! The second explosion landed on precisely the same spot and I began to cry like a baby. Long sobs mixed with gasping breaths soon had me coughing and choking. Jennifer was chatting away about how important it was to make every stroke the same. "Its all about consistency Craig, you need to learn that. Now I think I'll teach you what I mean." BOOOOM!! BOOOOM!! BOOOOM!! The last volley broke me, as my knees buckled and I screamed at the top of my lungs. I hugged that desk and cried for what seemed several minutes before Jennifer simply said, "Get off my desk Craig, and try pulling your pants up without shooting your wad all over my carpet." I yanked my trousers up as I stood and, as I struggled to regain my composure, she cupped my chin in her hands as she had done once so long ago and gave me the softest kiss of my life. Those warm gentle lips seemed to breathe new life into me and when her tongue darted into my mouth I thought I would cum right there. I felt the heat from her flushed face as she leaned forward, those huge breasts crushed into my chest, and whispered in my ear, "I hope you learned your lesson tonight Craig, we're a great team and remember this was only business. But screw up again and I'm going to fuck you in the ass like there's no tomorrow. And sweetie, if that happens its going to be very personal -- because I've never forgotten New Orleans." With that said she spun me around and gave me sharp slap on the ass that made me jump as I stumbled out the door. As I reached the elevator I could still hear her deep laughter echoing down the long empty corridor.