3 comments/ 24609 views/ 11 favorites Becoming LeAnn Ch. 01 By: StephenWolfe60 It was 5:25pm, and LeAnn's nerves were on edge as was usual at this time of day. Looking down at the huge pile of papers on her desk, she sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she would be working late again. She picked up the phone to give her husband the daily courtesy call; he would expect it, she would expect him to be home to answer at three in the afternoon after doing nothing all day. She dialed, greeted, rhetorically asked Tim about his day, reminded him to get dinner for the kids and make sure they started their homework, cheerily replied with the routine "Love you too, bye!" and turned back to working through the pile of orders and invoices. She was glad that at least this afternoon she wouldn't have to deal with the added tension of her bosses' intimidating presence. Brock would be out of town until late tomorrow, and LeAnn breathed a little sigh of relief that she would get the office to herself for the rest of the day. Even so, as she settled into the tasks at hand, her thoughts returned to her boss and the plethora of mixed feelings she had about him. She had realized some time ago it was probably a basic personality conflict that got them off on the wrong foot. Brock Magnusson was an aggressive, imposing personality; LeAnn was a fragile, nervous housewife newly returned to the work world. It hadn't helped things that Brock had replaced Richard, the man she had come to think of as the best boss she could have ever had. Six months after Richard had hired her for this job, he got a job higher up the company ladder and moved to another town. It had been an unexpected blow that left her stunned and disoriented. She was still in that state a week later when Brock Magnusson took the office by storm. That first meeting had been intense and traumatic for LeAnn. When he walked into the office and she stood to greet him and shake his hand, she felt an immediate sense of intimidation. Her tiny hand was completely engulfed in his, and she began to shake, loathing herself for her lack of control over her body. LeAnn suddenly felt like a little lamb in the grasp of a large predator. At six and a half feet and well over 200 pounds, the sheer size of the man alone would have made him imposing, but his presence was larger even than his physical size. Standing to meet him, LeAnn had found herself staring directly into the lower part of his wide chest where the bottom of his tie and the 'V' of his coat lapels came together. Even his suit was intimidating; she knew from the cut and the Italian cloth it had to have been custom tailored. Her eyes first went to the cuff of his starched shirt and his hand as it enveloped hers, and then slowly moved up the fine silk tie to one of the most brutish faces she had ever been this close to. Blonde hair closely cropped, the wide lips and overhanging brows of his darkly tanned face looked as though they had been chiseled out of a rock. His eyes were the color of blue steel and glinted sharply as they inspected her face with a probing critical gaze, which she met briefly but could not hold. She felt like a fawn being circled by a large predatory beast. LeAnn knew instinctually that if she met that gaze she could be torn apart. Her eyes fell to his shoes, which seemed like a pair of black Porsche's made of glossy Italian leather. LeAnn was immediately seized with an almost uncontrollable urge to pee. She remembered being intimidated by everything about him, his clothes and his immense size. She remembered vividly simpering in front of him like a miniature poodle before a Bull Mastiff. She had caught herself unconsciously rubbing her thighs together as if to satisfy some imperceptible itch. He made quite an indelible impression; there was no getting away from it. He had an intensely macho aroma, a combination of cologne and strong tobacco, and a generally earthy male scent. LeAnn, being very sensitive to odors, was engulfed and overcome with nausea. LeAnn was completely swept up in a maelstrom of confusing and conflicted thoughts and feelings, with every second that passed a little more control over her own body drained away as she cowered in front of him. She felt like a fool as she nervously stuttered the words, "Welcome to C-Congolomora, I ..um, Welcome to c-Concordian Conglomerated!". Brock had grunted a dismissive 'thanks' as he eyed her incredulously. As she sat working through the stack of papers tonight, LeAnn thought back to how she struggled through the initial contact, how she had fumbled over nervously as he motioned her to stand before his new desk and seated himself and got straight to business in a very confrontational manner. She had been on the verge of doing the pee-pee dance, but didn't want to upset him by excusing herself to the restroom. To keep from wringing her hands together, LeAnn had put them behind her back. She'd had to force herself again to stop rubbing her thighs against one another. It was at that point she noticed that her panties were quite damp. She had almost swooned from panic, barely able to contain the urge to look down at her crotch for a wet spot. Brock wasted no time and had proceeded immediately to line her out on all his expectations of her. "I am not happy with the kind of profits this location has historically generated; this office has been lagging since it got off the ground and I am here to make changes." Brock continued callously, "I know you've been at this position for over six months, but I feel it's fair to let you know that you can consider yourself on probation for a month, after which I will give you a thorough evaluation and determine your future here. " LeAnn was a girl of extremely pale complexion, and she felt as though any vestige of color in her creamy white skin drained completely away in that instant. He then continued with a list of his demands, from punctuality and promptness to his own take on the company dress code. She felt his eyes scan her from head to toe as he continued, "I want the image of this office to be upscale, I've already got an interior decorator coming in this week and we will be doing a complete remodel of this office. I also want a complete remodel of your office appearance, no more of this slouchy 'Liz Lemon' stuff." LeAnn took offense immediately, given that she was often compared to Tina Fey. Brock went on to explain that he wanted conservative office attire, dresses, skirts and crisp blouses, feminine power suits. He demanded unquestionable femininity but didn't want anything risqué. Brock had used the words "I want you sharp and nicely fitted, nothing slutty, I don't find that attractive". The comment hit her like a slap in the face and sent another shockwave right through poor LeAnn, who would never even think of even showing any cleavage. Her mouth fell open and she started to come back with a slightly huffy protest, but he brushed over her words while waving the back of his hand dismissively. She barely got out a little scoffing sound as he went on with his monologue. Brock's insulting comment aside, LeAnn had been very happy to have been done with pantyhose a long time ago and was pretty frosted at the idea of returning to them again. She had begun to protest, but her nerves got the better of her and she decided to just go along with it. Whatever she did or didn't know about Brock Magnusson at that point, she was sure she didn't want to upset him. Tears of anger and frustration had rimmed her eyes, but she successfully fought them back. She did manage to voice her protest in one respect; she gathered herself and meekly raised her small hand " Excuse me Mr. Magnusson, but I can't afford to buy a whole new wardrobe right now, I've been wearing slacks to work for some time and don't have many dresses." Magnusson changed tone and became instantly conciliatory; "I apologize, I am really not the kind of boss who makes unrealistic demands without making sure my people have the resources to follow through and accomplish my objectives." He reached under his lapel and came out with a wallet of fine leather. Flipping it open revealed a money clip which appeared loaded with large denomination bills. He quickly peeled off ten very crisp hundreds and handed them to LeAnn without even flinching. Her first response was mild protest, but he waived that with a small frown and a head shake. "Take it LeAnn; a grand should get you a couple of weeks of work wear. You've got until next Monday to get out of the slacks." LeAnn felt a twinge of foreboding as her thin fingers closed around the stack of bills, but she put it down in her mind as a professional move on her part and a tax write off on his. She had adjusted and updated her wardrobe over the following weekend. Mortified at the thought of exposing her bare white legs, yet loathing pantyhose, LeAnn opted for thigh high stockings. She had only worn them previously for the occasional date night with Tim because he used to get so turned on seeing her in them, but that now seemed like a long time ago. She wondered briefly if seeing her in stockings and a garter belt could make even Tim's dysfunctional wee-wee erect these days, but she quickly turned her mind from that subject before the familiar resentment set in. True to his word, Brock had the office facelift planned and done in two weeks' time, and LeAnn was impressed and pleased with the result. Headquarters must have given him the entire budget he had asked for on the remodel. The dingy old office had been transformed into a modern art gallery. Brock had done away with the bleak white walls and gone with a dark, warm color scheme, rich woods, glass and dark leather furniture. The fluorescent's had been replaced with tasteful down lighting and pendant lamps and there was now a black leather couch in the waiting area across from her desk. LeAnn's new desk arrangement was beautiful, streamlined and modern, but was not completely to her liking. She had built her former workstation into a veritable fortress, closed on all sides floor to desktop with a counter wall at the front that had served as a barricade between her and the onslaught of intruders coming through the front door. The effect had been to reduce her presence to a face floating above a box. Brock had not asked her opinion or given her any choice in the remodel. She now sat behind a thick mahogany table top on stout legs with only her monitor and keyboard to shield her from the front door. Her files and baskets were behind her under a nicely matched back table. There was now no modesty panel shielding her legs, no stacks of file cabinets at the sides. She had to constantly remind herself to sit "ladylike" now that she wore skirts. In truth, the opportunity to update her wardrobe was exciting to LeAnn, even if she could barely admit it to herself. As sole breadwinner, she hadn't really shopped for clothes for herself in quite some time. The kids were always a priority when it came to the clothing budget, and for several years she made do with what she had. LeAnn found she actually grew to like skirts and stockings; they definitely had their pros and cons. The extra ventilation "down there" was actually far more comfortable than slacks, and trips to the bathroom were pretty quick and convenient, but she was annoyed that she had to shave more regularly. One real downside for LeAnn was that she had noticed male customers paying her a lot more attention, and it made her extremely uncomfortable. The salesmen, reps, delivery drivers and mostly male customers who came through the office had always stared at her breasts, and she was very conscious of it. LeAnn was not voluptuous, but one area of her looks she felt pretty confident about were her 34C's. She was fairly slender and elegantly built with nice, firm breasts, and she knew that men stared at her, but it didn't make her feel attractive, just uncomfortable. She hadn't really felt like a hot property for years, since before the babies, and she was intensely insecure when she noticed men checking her out. LeAnn had been comfortable camouflaging herself in her somewhat frumpy work clothes. She felt exposed now, the heat coloring her cheeks every time she crossed the room, knowing men were eyeing her legs as well as her breasts. LeAnn had long ago resolved in her mind that most men were just sex obsessed pigs and she accepted it as a fact of life in an office girls daily routine. Most men at least made an effort to be decent about it. One exception was the regular delivery driver, Kurt Wagner. He was a long, lanky rawboned man with wide shoulders and over-sized hands. He was coarse, vulgar and loud, yet something about him appealed to the small-town girl in LeAnn. Maybe it was a shared sense of simple roots, maybe it was his cocky sense of humor that softened her to him, but they did connect on some level and she got along with him despite his sometimes inappropriate comments. LeAnn had actually considered Kurt a friend and used to be glad to see him when he came by, but she had made the mistake of giving him a friendly hug. Kurt then came to expect hugs every time he arrived, and LeAnn didn't have the assertiveness to refuse. He had begun to hold on a little longer and squeeze her a little tighter than LeAnn thought was appropriate, and his hands would often roam outside the bounds of decency, down her rump and at the sides of her breasts. The more inappropriate touching Kurt got away with, the bolder he got. He began to press his groin against LeAnn's frontal area during hugs, and she could feel his obscenely swollen manhood through his pants. The poor shocked girl had never imagined a man's equipment being so big before. After she got over the initial shock, she would always awkwardly break off the contact and push away, always with a nervous laugh and a school marmish "Okay now Kurt, I'm a married woman!" She now tried to stay out of hug range when he was around, but he would often catch her off guard and find some way to give her a clandestine little squeeze with his big paws. That had gone out of control too, and he had grown comfortable pinching her butt or giving it a little squeeze whenever he thought he could get away with it. LeAnn was always too intimidated to make waves by confronting him, and she would certainly never tell Mr. Magnusson. Kurt stopped in the office to turn in paperwork a few times per week, every time he picked up or dropped off at the warehouse. He had been loudly complimentary from the first time he'd laid eyes on LeAnn, and made no bones about how her flushed red face made him feel when he caused it. "Aw, don't be embarrassed baby!" he would crow, "LeAnn, a pretty girl like you with a body like that, you got nothing to be embarrassed about honey!" LeAnn always kept her head down and answered tersely, but with a nervous little smile. "Oh now stop it Kurt, you know I'm married!" He would brush aside her protests and tell her how great she looked in whatever she was wearing that day, usually with more detail than she was comfortable with. Kurt would often throw in "I hope that husband of yours appreciates what he's got!" She was always embarrassed by this and had to bite her tongue, as it always confronted her with the truth that her husband did not appreciate her, compliment her, or make her feel in any way desirable. She had been harboring a growing resentment against her husband since he wasn't looking for a job "below his standards" and she felt like he was taking her for granted, leaving her to work here with these men at a job she didn't really like. She knew that her face probably betrayed her feelings towards her husband however she might try to hide it. Inwardly, she enjoyed the compliments; they were the only ones she got these days, but she felt a moral obligation to discourage Kurt and maintain a line of decency that was not crossed, at least in her own mind. Things had rapidly grown more and more uncomfortable with Mr. Magnusson since he had arrived that first day, but at least he was out of the office most days on sales trips and meetings in the city. Their office was in a suburb a little off the beaten path, and LeAnn wondered why the company had placed a go getter like Brock way out here. He didn't seem pleased with it and it seemed to LeAnn like some kind of corrective action on the part of the company. Brock didn't seem to like the office or the town, and LeAnn got a strong feeling he didn't like her much either. She always walked on eggshells around him. It caused her great stress, but was only a small aspect of her discomfort. The other thing was that Brock's language was pretty coarse. He talked openly about sex and brought the subject up often. As the first few weeks went by and he got more comfortable around LeAnn, he grew more brazen. He had no filter for his cell phone conversations and she couldn't avoid over-hearing Brock chatting up his latest dating interests. She would also have to try to avoid listening to him catching his buddies up on his latest sexual exploits. Her sense of decency was assaulted daily, but her self-esteem issues being what they were, LeAnn was far from assertive and found it impossible to stand up for herself. She tried to raise her voice; she already had the words on the tip of her tongue: "Mr. Magnusson, I am very uncomfortable hearing you talk about things of a sexual nature and I consider this to be sexual harassment!", but she always fell just short of saying it. Instead, she would pretend to ignore, protest mildly and meekly scold, "Now Mr. Magnusson!" after which she would smile nervously as her cheeks burned with shame. She would glance up briefly to see him grinning smugly at the sight of her reddened cheeks. She felt like a gimpy pushover, forced to listen and laugh nervously along. It made her feel completely powerless, and she could feel the dominating power it gave him over her. She always felt like he was watching her, staring at her body. Kurt, the trucker, was in regular contact with all the company stations, so he and Magnusson had been working together for years at Brock's former office. The two of them were old buddies. They had the same crass sense of humor and when he was around Brock, Kurt would fall quickly in to the same pattern of abusive language, coarse jokes and sexual banter. LeAnn would over hear them laughing and joking, then suddenly the level of speech would come down to low tones and whispers punctuated by coarse laughter. That always made it impossible for her not to eavesdrop. She overheard enough to understand they were talking about women, their latest dates and the things they did to them. Although he had thankfully never gone into much detail, LeAnn was aware that Kurt was a hopeless man-whore who dated girls he hooked up with online and had brief flings with some of the office girls. She became rapidly aware that this was a lifestyle the two men shared. On the days when Kurt was in the office hanging out with Brock, the atmosphere of the office was so charged with male hormones that LeAnn swore she now knew what testosterone smelled like. She overheard bits and pieces of what they talked about and at times she sensed that they might be talking about her. When she got this feeling she would often make out certain words and phrases filtering through the closed door. Sometimes she swore she could hear Brock or Kurt say her name, but she couldn't be sure. She had clearly deciphered the words "tight-assed", "prim and proper" and "She just needs a big hard cock ". LeAnn felt she absolutely couldn't tell Tim about any of this, and that of course made her feel unfaithful, and the guilt hung over her like a cloud. The thing she would not admit to herself was that the sexual banter also served as a constant reminder of the thing had been sorely missing from her life for some time now. She felt frustrated, pathetic and lost. Becoming LeAnn Ch. 01 With her hours and workload, LeAnn didn't have time for chatty friendships with girlfriends these days. It only depressed her to get together with old friends and hear all about what their successful husbands were doing, and their lack of understanding of what it was like to have to be out in the work world had just begun to annoy her. Her desire to be in conversation with her husband had been declining year after year as well, and now that she was avoiding discussions about the office, the gap had widened. She knew in fact, that the late hours had been serving as a quiet time between dealing with customers and going home to deal with Tim. The sad fact was LeAnn had no one to talk to. She began to settle in to the fact that at least her conversations with Brock and Kurt were "adult" conversation, and at least when Brock was speaking casually he didn't seem angry. He smiled and laughed and was somewhat pleasant, even vaguely charming. After a few weeks of trying to make the best of things, LeAnn had given in to nervously parroting along while Brock monologued. It had started off as a comment Brock made about dating one of the secretary's at the corporate office, how he'd spent the night at her place and had to drive all the way in that morning, no details. Then over the weeks he opened up more, talking about the girls he met online, how he'd been busy all night and just barely had time to shower and dress. This escalated to point where LeAnn knew she had let it go on too long and there was probably no going back. One Monday she and Brock were chatting casually during the morning coffee break. After LeAnn had shared a little about her relaxed family weekend, Brock casually told her he'd had a threesome with a married couple he hooked up with on Craig's List. She innocently asked if he was golf enthusiast. He laughed and answered that he was, but that this threesome took place in the couple's bedroom. LeAnn grew visibly uncomfortable. When she raised her hand in protest and began stammer out an objection, he had interrupted her with a laugh, saying that he was just talking about his hobby. "Hey, some guys like fishing, some guys like watching their wives get pounded by a stranger with a big tool!" LeAnn's face had burned crimson, and she spat out, "Oh my Gosh Brock, that is so inappropriate! Please!!" Brock laughed loudly and concluded that particular chat by turning back to the work on his desk and muttering under her breath, "the little slut almost passed out when both of us were inside her." She knew she could report Brock for sexual harassment and thought hard about it, but in the end LeAnn decided she needed the job too badly and that it would be more trouble than it was worth to make waves. At first she had wanted to believe that Brock's bragging was just compensating, that guys who have to talk about sex all the time probably didn't really get much. Then she thought about the confidence in his voice, the fact that he was tall, well dressed, well built, rich, and handsome (in a brutal, ugly kind of way), and after adding it all up, the theory seemed pretty weak. In the end, LeAnn concluded that Brock probably was in fact, a stallion who pursued sex like a sport. This was more or less substantiated a few weeks later. Their office was invited to a dinner event by a client. Spouses and dates were invited, it was fancy dress, and she and Tim had shared a table with Brock and his date Lucy, a pretty, voluptuous cubicle bunny from the head office. On a shared restroom run, Lucy was only too forthcoming about the nature of her relationship with Brock. "He always asks me to these company things because he likes the way I dress and the way I act with clients, but our relationship is nowhere near exclusive. It's strictly physical between Brock and I." Lucy had gushed information with no invitation from LeAnn, "Of course, I hold things back a little with him and I don't date him often. When LeAnn had cocked her head slightly to one side with a curious little pout, Lucy answered abruptly, "Oh I figured you had probably heard already!" LeAnn's curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned slightly forward, the little pout increasing to an inquiring little frown as she shook her head slightly. Lucy continued, "Sorry, I had assumed Brock's reputation would have made it out to your little neck of the woods. Most of the girls at the head office know that a date with Brock is always a guaranteed rough ride," Lucy took a slightly serious tone, "It's just known that if you go out with him, there isn't going to be any 'Lovemaking', you're just gonna get fucked!'", Lucy leaned in a little closer as she confided, "seriously, he stays hard for hours and he is hung like a goddamned HORSE!" LeAnn turned her signature shade of red and held up her palm, "Lucy, Oh my god, that is just WAY too much information!" Lucy laughed as she continued to dish, "Oh its big fun every once in a while, but honestly, I can't even sit down or walk straight for a couple of days after Brock works me over, and getting used like a cheap fuck-doll doesn't do much for my self-esteem either." LeAnn had indulged in one or two more drinks than was usual for her and had giggled along with Lucy like a pair of giddy schoolgirls all the way back to the table. LeAnn found herself acutely aware of Brock's predatory gaze as she seated herself. Then a few weeks after that, there came the fateful afternoon when LeAnn found Brock's magazines in the restroom. This was the thing that was buzzing around the periphery of LeAnn's mind tonight, poking and prodding at her as she sat late at her desk, tugging her concentration away from the pile of papers which seemed to be growing more meaningless by the second. About four months ago she had been alone, late at the office, looking for some glass cleaner in the bathroom cabinet. She had noticed the tiniest tip of the corner of a magazine poking out over the top of the cabinet, just out of reach. It looked very red and shiny and glossy. A little voice inside told her to just leave it, don't bother looking. It was the same little voice she heard when she had spied that corner of a magazine in the bottom of her father's underwear drawer one hot afternoon so very long ago. LeAnn disobeyed the voice this time too. She had remembered seeing a step ladder in the mop closet down the hall. Quickly and quietly she went to get it, heading through the back office door into the cool, dark concrete corridor that lead to the parking garage. Magnusson was out for the afternoon, LeAnn got into the dingy mop closet, grabbed the ladder and hauled it back down the corridor, telling herself that it was probably nothing, but the pounding of her heart was telling the truth, and she knew it. It was still a little bit of a reach to the top of the cabinet so LeAnn was very careful. She hadn't been careful enough with the magazines in daddy's drawer and had put them back out of order. It was the summer her Mom had left them for another man, just before LeAnn left for college. LeAnn had been helping around the house more and was putting away her father's laundry when she made that hot little discovery. As she set up the ladder in the office restroom and started to climb, LeAnn realized her heart was pounding just like that time back in Daddy's room. She remembered how she'd felt; so dirty, hot and nervous as she pulled the stack of dirty books from the drawer and sat down on her father's big bed, her heart pounding furiously as she leafed through them from cover to cover. LeAnn had been fully sexually developed at the time and knew what it was like to be aroused, but not like this. This was what some of the girls at school called "horny". She began masturbating as she looked at her daddy's dirty pictures of boys touching pretty girls, girls touching themselves and touching the boys' penises. She had touched herself plenty of times before, but not like this. She found herself in a trance-like state and became conscious for the first time of the wet sloppy noises her fingers were making down there. LeAnn rapidly brought herself to an overwhelming orgasm. Daddy had called her in to his room the next day and interrogated her about going through his drawers. She tried to explain about the laundry, but daddy didn't buy it. Even though she felt she was way too old for it, she ended up getting a bare bottom spanking with his thick leather belt. She was more careful after that, but she still paid regular visits to daddy's underwear drawer until she went off to college that fall. The week before she left, desperate for daddy's attention, she put the dirty magazines out of order again. She had tried to be a good girl after that, trying to abstain from anything remotely dirty or arousing. She attended Catholic students group, tried to be moral, tried to bury her baser instincts. LeAnn had struggled through her single life at school and work, dating, necking, being groped and fondled, awkwardly handling a couple of backseat penises, desperately wanting it to go further but still resolved to save herself for marriage like a good catholic girl, ultimately fulfilling that goal. But that evening in the toilet, LeAnn fought to control her breathing, and she could hear her heart beat in her throat as she carefully lifted down the stack of glossy magazines from over the cabinet. All those old feelings came back tenfold, and then she saw immediately that these were not her daddy's Penthouses and Hustlers. As her trembling fingers leafed through the pages, the images they revealed shocked her to the very core of her being. These were full page glossy spreads, depicting depraved acts she had never even dreamed people could do to each other. In the stack of a half dozen magazines, there was quite a bit of variety. The first one she opened was called "Tag Teamed Bitches". It was full of girls being taken by two or even three or four guys at the same time. LeAnn couldn't help but think of the Craigslist woman Brock had mentioned. The sequences would begin with the woman kneeling between the two men, holding their penises, pulling on them, licking them and putting them into her mouth. The penises were so HUGE! The rough treatment the men gave the girls seemed to get harder and rougher as the sequences went on, one man taking her from behind while another would hold her hair and shove his big penis all the way into her mouth. LeAnn gasped out loud as she turned the page to see a close-up of two huge penises stuffed into a girl, one in her anus and one in her vagina, the pink holes stretched beyond capacity. From the pictures of the girl's faces, LeAnn couldn't tell if they were in pain or ecstasy. Maybe it was both, she couldn't imagine. LeAnn was completely overwhelmed as she briefly ventured the thought about what it would be like to be one of the women in the photos. The thought of being manhandled like that was absolutely incomprehensible to her demure little mind. The women in the pictures seemed to have no control over the situation at all. The large men muscled the girls around, held them tightly in place, lifted them in the air, pinned their arms and legs back. Most of the girls had glaring red hand prints all over their butts and thighs where the men had been spanking them as they fucked them. Their mouths, vaginas, anuses all were stuffed with big penises. LeAnn's fingertips had grown sweaty, so she laid the magazines on the black marble bathroom counter to avoid wrinkling the pages. One hand had moved unconsciously to slide the hem of her dress up her thigh. Her fingertips had begun to circle the front of her panties before she even became aware of it. One picture showed a man holding a girl up in the air, facing away from him. His manhood was stuck up her butt, stretching it tightly, and his big muscular arms hooked around the girls' skinny legs with his hands behind her head in a wrestling hold. Her head tilted awkwardly forward and her beet red pussy gaped open as she took the anal hammering. In the next couple of pictures, another man stood facing the girl as the other guy held her in the full-nelson. The front man had his hands gripped tightly around her throat and he fucked her pussy as the other guy simultaneously fucked her anus. Never in LeAnn's darkest fantasies had she imagined sex so brutal and violent. She turned the pages in disbelief. LeAnn was grossed out but kept looking as the sequences all ended with the girls kneeling submissively on the floor, the guys standing over the girl and rubbing their penises, shooting their sperm on her. The girls' faces and breasts, even hair would be covered with sperm as they licked and sucked the tips of the big wieners. Some girls would even take it all in their mouths! So much sperm; she was pretty sure her Tim had never on his best day produced as much sperm as even one of these guys. LeAnn couldn't even fathom the degradation of having two or three guys shooting that much semen all over her face, it was beyond all comprehension. Just thinking of the smell made her gag a little. Next was a magazine called "Hogtied" It was filled with images of naked and half naked girls tied with ropes, pulling their arms and legs in all directions, trussed up like animals and hung from the ceiling, tied to wooden crosses and beams. The settings looked like dark basements with concrete walls and industrial lights and fixtures. Men in black leather were spanking the girls with implements made of black leather; riding crops, whips and paddles, violating them vaginally and anally. It looked as though they were ramming their cocks down the helpless girl's throats. The girl's hands were tied behind their backs, they were covered with spit and sweat, and there was nothing they could do but take it. Leann's fingers had been working her little pussy hard through her panties. It became frustrating, so she pushed them down and let them slide down her slim legs. She knew she wouldn't take long to finish. LeAnn's masturbation habit had increased significantly over the past few years, so much so that she had stopped going to mass because she couldn't stand walking by the confession booth. She just grew depressed about telling the priest over and over that she was habitually playing with herself. She was pretty sure she wasn't stopping anytime soon, and besides that, the way the priest had been questioning the last few times, ("My child, if not your husband, what do you fantasize about in these times of lustful self-indulgence?") she had begun to think he might have been looking forward to hearing her confession every Sunday. As much as she loved him, Tim had been having sexual performance "difficulties" for some time now. He had not been coming to bed until the wee hours of the morning for some months now. He told LeAnn that he was in his office looking for work online; she had her suspicions about that but honestly didn't really want to know. At any rate, his habit allowed LeAnn to take a nice hot bath alone every evening, slide into bed and bring herself to a quiet but satisfying orgasm before drifting off to sleep. Lately she had been occasionally waking up and doing herself again in the middle of the night. Standing here masturbating in the office restroom had taken LeAnn to a completely new level. It was not a level she was proud of, but she had a feeling she should get used to it. For one thing, it made LeAnn feel extremely dirty, just like a dirty little girl again, hot and sweaty, on the sly, afraid of getting caught. The delicious pang of guilt was familiar and vague and molten hot. For another, after hours in a secluded spot with no one else in the building, she didn't have to fuss about being quiet. She could hear the wet, hot, squishy sounds of her fingers sliding, rotating, pulling against her slippery sex loud clear in the enclosed space. She could also smell the hormonal tang of her groin mingled with the perfume of her own secretions, which seemed to be seeping from her in record quantities. She didn't have to hold back her moans and vocal expressions like she did at home. The last magazine in the stack jolted her senses and set her hand working her sex with newfound urgency. The magazine seemed much more "high-end" than the previous cheap tawdry rags. The cover title read "Secretary's Day". A dark haired girl was on the cover. She wore black framed glasses and was dressed much like LeAnn did, and she was pail, frail and slightly mousey. Thick ropes wrapped around her waist and arms and a gag was in her mouth. LeAnn turned through the pages slowly her eyes drank in the images of the pretty secretary. She glanced up at the mirror and a brief chill ran up her spine as she noted how much this girl resembled her. In the first frame the innocent looking girl sat working at her desk. A large intimidating man in a suit entered the frame, and over the next couple of images he grabbed her by the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her to her feet. The shocked, frightened look on her face gave way over the next frame to a close-up of her face with her eyes closed, brows furrowed and lips parted. It was a look of blissful ecstasy. The man ripped the girls blouse open and shoving her bra cups aside, roughly began to maul her breasts with his huge hand, pinching and pulling her nipples roughly to and fro while holding her head back by her hair. Shockingly, the man began to slap the undersides of her breasts, and he looked to be slapping them hard. The photography was art quality, and the high definition camera captured a startling image of a blurred hand and one breast slapped upward at an extreme angle to its mate. After a few frames of this, the girl's milky pale breasts were turned completely hot pink. LeAnn's mind began to view the scenario before her as though she were looking into an ever widening window frame, the little office in a box before her becoming life sized in front of her glazed eyes. It was as if she began to enter a dream. The big man in the suit pulled the skinny brunette to the front of his huge mahogany desk. He pushed her back against it and stood back. In the next photo, they just stood there, he glaring, she with downcast face, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides, her abused titties jutting from her ruined bra and blouse. In the next frame he pointed to the floor in front of him. Over the next couple of pages the girl got on her knees as he pulled the large, curved, semi flaccid penis from his trousers. She looked up at him with big eyes pleading through the black framed glasses as she opened wide and began to do her job. The man tangled his fingers in her brown hair and had sex with her mouth. He intermittently pulled his cock out of her mouth and slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. LeAnn wanted to try and hold back until the last magazine but she felt her orgasm building so quickly she knew very suddenly that she couldn't even get to the end of this one. As she flipped frantically through the sequence and saw images of the dominant, cruel boss bending the girl over, pulling her skirt up over her hips and spanking her bared bottom, the pale skin of her butt covered with hot pink hand prints, which all melded together as the round peaks of her slender ass glowed crimson against the highly contrasted pale skin surrounding her assaulted flesh. He paused from his spanking to shove his fingers roughly into the girl, three in her pussy and one into her ass. LeAnn could feel herself teetering on the edge of a blowout orgasm. She was barely conscious of what her fingers were even doing down there on her clit, her hand moved of its own accord. Becoming LeAnn Ch. 01 She turned the page to a sight she had never imagined even in her most lurid masturbation fantasy. The girl in the magazine had been flipped around facing the room, butt up against the thick mahogany desk top. The boss had her bent backwards over the desk, holding her fast by the hair at the back of her head. Her shaved kitty was rampantly displayed despite her obvious efforts to bring her leg up. In the following frames, the boss fastened the wide-eyed girls' ankles to the feet of the desk with fur lined leather cuffs and was placing a black leather dog collar around her throat as her large eyes gazed innocently up at his face. He fastened a silver chain to the collar at the back of her neck and fastened the opposite end somewhere behind the desk, pulling her awkwardly backwards. He pulled the leather belt from his trousers and looped it around her elbows, fastening them tightly behind her. He completed her bondage by placing a red plastic ball in her mouth and fastening it behind her head with black leather straps. The next frame pulled back to show the dark haired office girl, bound, trussed and gagged, spread eagled and bent backwards over the expansive dark wood desk. Her skirt was bunched up in a band over her hips, blouse ripped wide open and her tits pulled roughly out over the cups of her black bra. Her panties were gone, ripped from her body. The black silk stockings, black satin garter belt and bra, along with the rampant pink undersides of her abused breasts contrasted profoundly against her milky white skin. The boss returned to the picture with a riding crop made from stitched black leather. About two feet long with a leather triangle at its business end, it looked as though he was teasing her with it, letting it glide over her skin as her brows furrowed over her alarmed eyes. Over the course of the next two pages, what he did to her became obvious by the growing pattern of red triangles marking her milk white skin. They first grew on her stomach, very close to but just inches away from her bald pubis, circling down the outside of her hips to the areas of her thighs exposed above the tops of her black stockings. Then pictures of the boss cropping the undersides of her breasts, a perfectly timed close up of the black triangle striking a nipple, capturing the shock waves rippling through the soft tit-flesh. LeAnn had to wipe her wet fingertips with a towel before she could turn the page. The next frame sent LeAnn plummeting over the edge. The boss was cropping his secretary's exposed little kitty. The girl's eyes were blazing, as wide as her head would allow. LeAnn could almost hear the wet muffled screams through the gag. Long streams of saliva were running from the corners of the girl's pretty mouth, on down her chest. The high definition camera closed in on the girl's reddened pudenda, the black leather triangle striking her mound, sending shockwaves through the tender flesh. A large amount of liquid sprayed from between her swollen red labia. LeAnn collapsed against the bathroom counter as her knees buckled. She could feel the orgasm exploding from deep inside her; she could feel it in her fiery clitoris, now rubbed almost raw, and alarmingly, an incredible sensation had been radiating from the region around her anus. She slid down to her knees as her climax ransacked its way through her body, causing her to lose all muscle control. Gasping and moaning loudly as she came, she reached her free hand behind and let her fingertips slide down to circle her slippery rectal opening. Cumming like a hot little bitch, a scream ripped from her throat as her fingertip pushed past the tight barrier ring of her rectum. She shoved it in as far as it would go and held it there as the other hand worked furiously at her clitoris and her pelvis bucked spastically in the throes of the best orgasm she could remember. The climax ebbed slowly and took it's time winding down. LeAnn leaned forward, almost unconscious and let her head hang limp as the last spasms and shocks settled their way down throughout her body. On her knees on the cold tile floor, leaning on one hand, skirt rucked up around her waist, panties around her ankles and her finger lodged firmly in her asshole, LeAnn was suddenly and glaringly aware that she had sunk to an all-time low. She slowly got up, pulled up her wet, cold panties and went about the business of cleaning up the crime scene. She washed and dried her hands, then carefully stacked the magazines back in the proper order and position. She took the metal step ladder back down the corridor and put it in the mop closet, fully intending never to get it back out again. -----0----- After her first visit to her bosses bathroom "Library", LeAnn felt so utterly dirty afterward that it was almost easy for her have her mind change the subject every time it came up. She tried to pretend to herself that the magazines didn't exist, but she did have to pee throughout the day, and as she sat on the potty relieving herself, she could feel the hot, dark, beckoning presence hovering up there, and the fact that she lusted to look again made her so ashamed she almost cried. She was so remorseful at her shocking lapse of moral control that she backed off the frequency of her evening "solo flights" for a time, but then she found she couldn't sleep without diddling herself. She had also tried to limit the subjects of her masturbation fantasies to the conventional "love making with movie stars" scenarios that had worked so wonderfully well before. She had long since given up on the idea of fantasizing about sex with her husband. That had worked okay back when she had first faced the fate of masturbation as the sum of her marital sex life, but it had lost its appeal some time ago. LeAnn had remained an honorable catholic woman who had enough integrity to stick to the plan and not have sex with anyone except Tim, but she harbored a little too much pent up resentment to realistically honor her wedding vows when she jerked herself off. Even though she knew it was officially "adultery" by the catholic churches definition, it had become impossible, for all practical purposes, to picture Tim's face while she played with herself. She rubbed herself sore with no effect trying to fantasize about him and in the end she always had to bring it to a close by thinking of something else anyway. LeAnn also committed to abstain from any further dirty toilet moments for another very strong reason: She was mortified at the thought of Brock catching on. LeAnn's fragile sense of self-esteem had been increasingly dropping for quite some time. The fact that she had lost all control and jerked off while kneeling on the toilet floor had it dragging around on the ground. The idea of Brock even suspecting would absolutely kill her. In the back of her mind a panicky little voice screamed, "What if he already knows?!" As she did with the many un-thinkable thoughts whispering or screaming inside her head throughout a given day, LeAnn stifled it and soldiered on. Now that she had discovered his stash, LeAnn's marginal recollection of the amount of time Brock had spent in the John took on new meaning. Before, she had thought he must have had constipation issues, and that was so disgusting she had quickly found other things to think about. LeAnn now realized that Brock's ten to twenty minute sessions in there almost certainly included pulling savagely on his legendary horse-sized-penis and dropping a pint of semen into the toilet. The thought honestly did disgust her, but she could not ignore the profound arousal she felt when he was in there for a good long time. She caught herself giving in to curiosity, working very quietly and listening intently whenever Brock went in to the john, straining to hear what he was doing in there. She would practically jump out of her seat and scramble to look busy when the restroom door swung suddenly open. She loathed herself every time it happened. It had now been a month since that pivotal bathroom discovery. LeAnn had resumed her nightly fingering sessions at home and her fantasies had begun to move on from the missionary position with George Clooney. She had been increasingly allowing fantasies about the things she had seen in Brocks magazines, spanking and rough sex, and curiosity was getting the better of her. Had he brought in any new material? She hadn't even given herself a chance to get tired of the old stuff. What other horrifying acts of hot, delicious, animal sexual fulfillment existed out there? Fantasies of being controlled had begun to fill her thoughts as she played with herself in bed. Tied, spanked, men's strong hands restraining her, multiple sets of hands roughly enjoying the feel of her skin, her breasts, shoving fat, rigid fingers into her holes as she squirmed and strained as she was controlled by large, brutally built, faceless men. They could do anything they wanted to her and she was a helpless damsel in distress. Much to her surprise and a little to her dismay, LeAnn had also been catching herself fantasizing about Brock Magnusson. She did not like him, didn't even find him attractive in the ordinary sense, but taken as a whole, the raw sexuality of the man could not be denied. When Brock bossed her around in a demeaning way, her nerves were pushed beyond all normal limits. But when he concluded and left her to her work, she always became suddenly and shockingly aware of that feverish feeling coming over her, and that old familiar irritation in the magical little cleft between her thighs, and the feeling of moisture flooding slowly down her vaginal walls to puddle between her swelling labia, threatening to leak out and flood her panties. Her chat with Lucy had ruined any chance of her not imagining about all his hidden parts. He was such a dominating figure that he just fit perfectly into these control fantasies. The office was an almost perfect porn set, and she had begun to stage articulately detailed little plays as she got herself off in bed every night. Brock had been shown a fleeting sweet side too, albeit mixed with his normal authoritarianism. The month of probation he had imposed on her had gone well. LeAnn had met all his demands and scored highly. He even gave her a nice raise. She came back from lunch later that week to find a very elegantly wrapped flat box on her desk. The tasteful card read: "LeAnn, Thanks for complying to my requests. I know it put you out of your comfort zone, but your change to haute couture not only makes you look absolutely glamorous, it's been a facelift for the whole office." ~Magnusson She opened the box and was confronted with extremely mixed emotions. Inside was a pair of very expensive silk stockings, equally luxurious black satin panties with a matching garter belt. It was practical for daily wear, but adorned with pink satin ribbons and a gorgeous pink satin flower right in a very conspicuous spot on the front of the panties. The stockings had a seam up the back with little elliptical details at the finish. They also had very sexily detailed reinforcement at the heels and toes. These things were not cheap. Her immediate thought was to walk into Brock's office and put the box back on his desk with a note telling him thanks but also reminding him of the level of impropriety involved in giving his married office girl sexy lingerie. But LeAnn's better judgment was overtaken by the sudden realization that it had been so very long since anyone had given her lingerie. She had forgotten what it was like to have a man generously give her a gift that made her feel sexy and gorgeous. She had suppressed any memory of a man making her feel sexy in a kind and generous way, and now it flooded through her being. Then she noticed the card underneath: "Put it on, right now. That's not a request. When I get back from lunch you'd better have seams running up the backs of your legs." XXX, Brock As the words sank in LeAnn's senses were flooded by what was becoming a familiar range of reactive emotions. Her anger flared instantaneously at the impudence of such a brazen direct order; she could definitely send this note to Human Relations and get Brock fired without a doubt, maybe sue the company for a small fortune. The other side of her brain, however, had been warming up to the feeling of being commanded. There was a sense of order, of a promise of some reward awaiting her obedience, and although LeAnn had mechanisms in place to switch off her conscious thoughts about it, she was aware that the promised reward was physical, sexual satisfaction. Her body had been denied for what seemed like an eternity, and any promise of release now triggered alarms that went off like flashing lights in her head. Once again she found that her thighs were rubbing against one another, and she did not fool herself as to the origin of the itch they were trying to scratch. She obeyed before she gave herself another second to think about it. She ran to the restroom and hastily stripped off her elastic top stockings. Slowly, carefully she rolled on the silk stockings, enjoying the incredible feel against her legs. LeAnn then donned the obligatory garter belt. She thought about skipping the panties, fairly certain even Brock wouldn't risk a panty check, but in the end her curiosity got the better of her and she slid them on, feeling absolutely slutty at the thought of changing her panties in the office toilet. She did like the way they looked, and although it was a completely guilty pleasure, LeAnn felt extremely sexy. Just the fact that he was smart enough to get her size right was a little mind blowing. Brock was late getting back, and she was on eggshells all afternoon waiting. Of course this would be the afternoon that men were in and out of the office all afternoon. The seams running up the backs of her legs might as well have been a scarlet letter painted on her forehead. She tried to stay seated as she served customers and salesmen all afternoon, but that wasn't always possible. She was vividly aware of her legs as she walked away and turned every time to catch men staring shark eyed below her waist. When Brock finally came back late that afternoon, she had risen from her desk and started to walk across the floor, fully expecting an inspection. Instead, he didn't say a word, just went straight to his office and closed the door. LeAnn sat back down, fuming as she got back to work. Sometime later, when Brock emerged to rattle off some orders, LeAnn was busy at the copier, working away. She heard a low whistle behind her and turned to meet his wolf-like grin. He complimented her and she thanked him in turn, and LeAnn thought that would be it, but he stopped her on her way back to her desk and ordered her to walk back and forth in front of him and model his gift. Her crimson cheeks betrayed the intense self-consciousness behind her nervous debutante smile as she faked an un-characteristic little ramp model strut. She changed back before she went home that night and put the pretty box in her desk drawer, not even considering taking them home for a second. That would be a little too much to explain. She tried to think about other things as the guilty little secret kept teasing her mind on the drive home. ----0---- It was 5:35. Tim was notified, the office door was locked, the sign flipped to "Closed", and the phones rolled over to the answering service. Realizing that she had the office completely to herself, a sense of relaxation came over LeAnn, and she found was dying for a soda. She jumped up from her desk and headed through the back door and down the long corridor to the soda machine. LeAnn almost walked lightly down the corridor, suddenly tingling with a kind of inner electricity. The concrete walls with electrical conduits running over the surface were bringing back images she had previously been shying away from. The echo of her heels coming back from the cold concrete surfaces of the parking structure brought with them echoes of her most forbidden fantasies. Helpless, beautiful, respectable damsels accosted and dragged into dark, cold, foreboding places, forced to perform the most deliciously sinful acts. The fact that a man could make her do something lustful seemed so appealing. If a forceful man controlled her, would that really make her a slut? She might enjoy it, lust for it, might even have multiple orgasms while it was done to her, but she would she actually have to take moral responsibility for it if she was forced? She reached the machine and dropped her quarters in, waiting for the metallic thud of the cold can, reaching in to ferret it out from under the plastic guard. She cracked the can open and slowly wandered out further, to where the parking garage opened up to look out over the town. She drank her pop and looked out at the sunset, enjoying the breeze. As the warm air wafted up LeAnn's skirt, a little chill brought the awareness that her panties were damp. Somewhat reluctantly, she turned to head back down the corridor to the office, taking her time. She seldom took breaks and felt she should, but what was really making her drag her heels was the thought of passing the mop closet door, the ladder was in there, she would need it. She had to make a decision somewhere between here and the door. If she walked too fast, she might talk herself into doing the right thing for her husband and herself and walking on by, finishing her work and going home to her boring sexless marriage. The more she thought about another evening lying in bed alone masturbating, the slower she walked. She thought about the pretty box of lingerie buried in her file drawer, she had been dying to try it on again. She thought about the last pages of "Secretary's Day", where the girl was tied with her back against the desk, leaning backwards, her boss spanking her pubis with the black leather triangle of the riding crop. The image that had stuck in her mind, and she was unable to dislodge it. --0-- At 6:15, Kurt Wagner parked his truck down the block, walked up and unlocked the front door of the Glennstone office. It had been a long day on the road and he was looking forward to getting his paperwork done and getting to the usual motel he used in town. The office was dark except for LeAnn's desk light, and he assumed she was gone for the day. He was just getting ready to flip the overheads on and find a spot at the table, when he heard a sound that stopped him cold and caused him to drop his fingertip from the switch and leave the lights off. He thought at first that it might be LeAnn crying, but it was only a matter of seconds before he recognized the cries of a woman in the throes of ecstasy, and it sounded intense. He measured his steps and slowly moved around the corner, drawn to the sound like a dog towards the scent of a bitch's estrus. As he turned the corner he saw the light spilling on to the floor from the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. He'd already suspected, but his ears made the connection. It was LeAnn for sure, and she was in there playing with herself. He got as close to the door as he could, but still gave himself the option of ducking back around the corner if she came out. His mind raced. He had been stroking himself while fantasizing about LeAnn from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She had always seemed so out of his reach. Kurt was a shrewd and opportunistic man. How was he going to use this? He didn't have to think about it very long when the game began to play itself out before his eyes. He could hear LeAnn's moaning increase in pitch and intensity, and a wet slapping rhythm which was also steadily increasing in tempo. My god, he thought to himself, she's spanking her pussy! pretty hard too, from the sound of it. He stood there drinking in the sounds, thinking how lucky he was to walk in when he did. She must be getting close to cumming. Her long moans began to break up into wordless "oh, Oh, OH's!" that were timed precisely with the percussive spanking sounds, building, growing more ragged and raw with each stroke. Becoming LeAnn Ch. 01 Inside the bathroom, LeAnn sat on the toilet with nothing on but her shoes and the stockings and garter belt from the pretty box in her desk, her bra with its cups pulled down, pinching and pulling her nipples as she gazed at the page open on the floor as she desperately slapped her wet venus mound. She had smeared her pubic area and matted her pussy fur down with her own juices and was covered in a sheen of sweat as she spanked the area just above her clit with increasing intensity. Something about slapping with her hand was just not doing the trick. She needed something, an instrument. She gazed at the magazine spread open on the floor, at the black leather paddle. She knew there had to be something in the office that would work. Thinking about it was killing the moment, she had to something fast. A ruler? rolled up magazine? Suddenly it clicked: The break room kitchenette! There had to be a spatula or serving spoon or something that would work. She started to grab her skirt and blouse, but instead got to her feet in a panic and grabbed the door handle. Kurt was almost in a trance from the wet, regular slapping noises, when the sound stopped abruptly. He heard the sudden clicking of heels on the bathroom floor and the doorknob turning rapidly and ducked back around the corner. He gazed across the darkened room to see a vision straight out of his dirtiest dreams click its little heels rapidly across the office floor, the naked, lily-white ass illuminated by the soft bathroom light bouncing straight into the break room. He had to act quickly. He could hear LeAnn noisily slamming drawers and wildly rummaging through the break room as he rounded the corner and gazed into the well-lit bathroom. Taking a quick scan Kurt noted the porn mag open on the floor, a pair of black panties next to it, and LeAnn's neatly folded skirt and blouse on the counter. Acting fast, he grabbed the clothes and the mag and dashed into Brocks office, leaving the lights off and the door open. He waited breathlessly for LeAnn to walk back in to the room, finger ready on the light switch. The clanging kitchenware and banging cabinet doors came to a sudden stop and LeAnn quickly emerged from the break room, moving with a purpose towards the light of the toilet. He let her get half way across the floor, then flipped on the overheads. The look on LeAnn's spotlighted face was priceless, but Kurt would have paid any price to see it over and over. He knew he'd have to enjoy it for these few seconds and play it over in future memory. It was such a potent mixture of expressions. Animal lust, determination, shock, all melded into the classic "doe in the headlights" gaze. Betrayal, exposure, guilt, disorientation, they all crossed LeAnn's face in rapid succession, and to Kurt, she had never looked so beautiful. He realized she had been nearing orgasm only moments ago, that she must be on the edge of madness to satisfy her need. He needed to move quickly but was enjoying this too much to rush it. LeAnn's hands flew of their own accord to quickly cover her breasts and her sex, trying to preserve any possible remaining shred of modesty. The long, stiff, bamboo spatula she had retrieved from the kitchen clattered loudly as it hit the hardwood floor, bringing the life back to LeAnn's eyes. "Kurt, what are you doing!?!" Kurt quickly began to relax, a knowing smile crept slowly across his face and a confident ease finding itself in his voice. "What am I doing? No, LeAnn, what are you doing?" He flashed a knowing crocodile grin at her and held out the porn mag, open to the page she'd been on. "Look's like someone has been having impure thoughts! Tsk, tsk, what a hot little slut you are!" Her head swiveled back and forth between Kurt and the bathroom door, and she stumbled forward. She gasped as she reached the doorway, jumping quickly behind the opening. "Where are my clothes?!" Her head whipped around and she took in Kurt's grin, which had grown wide and sadistic. "Sorry my dear, they seem to have wandered off, along with your reading material." She peered around from behind the door frame, her head poking awkwardly out. "Please Kurt, be a good man and give them back, please?" He loved her big, brown, pleading eyes so much it almost hurt. How often he had jerked off picturing those same doll eyes looking up at him while he stuffed his thick cock into her sweet mouth. "Well, okay...I guess we could give you your clothes back," He mused laconically, "after all, even your limp dick husband might wake up and pay attention if you came walking in the house in nothing but stockings and a bra, with your cute little snatch right out there in front of god and everybody! LeAnn just lowered her eyes and glared, and stuck her hand out the door. Drawing a deep breath through her tensed nostrils and snorting it back out with a frown. "Kurt, Please!" "Oh, I am not bringing them over to you!" he chuckled darkly, "if you want 'em, you gotta' come get 'em." Kurt realized he was having too much fun with this and had to bring things to bear quickly, but it was just too hot making the prissy little bitch squirm. "No, I think I need to hear about what you were doing in there," Kurt gave her a probing glance, narrowing his eyes, "I distinctly heard the sound of spanking when I came in, and just a glancing at your reading material tells me where you got the idea. Mm, mm, mm, this book seems to be everybody's favorite from the toilet library." LeAnn hung her head in shame, but stayed at the doorway as Kurt went on, "You know LeAnn, Brock just bought this magazine because the girl looks like you, you had to know that didn't you?" LeAnn kept looking at the floor and nodded slightly. "Well I see from your choice of kitchen utensils that this is your favorite page. By the way LeAnn, you weren't fooling anyone, Brock knew you were looking at his books, he told me so." LeAnn's face burned with shame she couldn't hide. All those times she'd looked up and noticed the two of them smirking at her. She shook her head and started to cry. "Okay, honey, we can fix this and nobody else ever has to know what a horny little bitch you are. Come on over and get your clothes," Kurt abruptly interjected, "Oh, all except the panties, I'm keeping those. If I'm guessing right, you could go without panties and that your dumb-fuck husband wouldn't even know it." Kurt motioned her over. LeAnn pulled the cups of her bra up and walked shyly from the doorway with both hand covering her pubic area, eyes to the floor. LeAnn, looked up and gave him the puppy eyes once again, "Please Kurt, help me." She gulped slightly, "I thought we were friends, what do you want me to do, get down on my knees and beg you?" Kurt Smiled, "Well, yes, that's exactly what I want LeAnn honey, but slow down a little. Let's talk about your needs first. Pick up your paddle on the way over here." LeAnn obeyed helplessly, the idea of refusal growing more distant by the second. She stopped halfway across the floor and tried to kneel and pick up the spatula without showing Kurt any more of herself than was possible. LeAnn's mouth tightened and she weighed her dismal options, "I could just go lock myself in the bathroom!" Kurt laughed and said "Yes, you do that and I'll sleep on this couch right here until Brock gets in. But even that useless husband of yours will begin to wonder about you in an hour or so, if he's not too busy sleeping or jacking off to gay porn." She considered protesting Kurt's continual ridicule of Tim, but she just found the idea pathetic, there was no strong argument against what he was saying. "You just keep walking over here baby." LeAnn obeyed and haltingly put one foot in front of the other Kurt took a sudden serious tone as she reached the thick edge her mahogany desk, "Stop right there baby." LeAnn's eyes flashed and she looked up, puzzled as Kurt sauntered slowly towards her. He brought himself up before her, his tall lanky frame towering over her. She was feeling that same raw animal intimidation she always felt around strong men, but this was so immediate, so hot and intoxicating. Kurt gently slid his long, thick fingers up her arms, the thumbs shooting out as they went, grazing her nipples through the satin bra. His hands wrapped completely around her thin upper arms and lifted her slightly, unweighting her feet. She quaked like a small bird in the grasp of his huge hands. She was so soft. He lifted her effortlessly until her eyes were level with his own and whispered thickly, "I am going to give you what you need LeAnn." He pushed her naked bottom against the desk, let her back down to her feet and slowly eased his grip on her arms. Her head hung, then she looked up at him, lower lip quivering slightly, her wide, desperate eyes seemed to ask, "Really?" In answer, he grasped the spatula and easily removed it from her loose grip. He held it between their faces, examining the implement. It over a foot long and stoutly made from sheet bamboo, the half inch thick handle tapering to a triangular paddle which fanned out to around 3 inches in width, approximately the size and shape of a woman's venus triangle, a perfect tool for the task at hand, really. Kurt swiftly struck the paddle against the desktop with a resounding crack, causing LeAnn to jump and cry out. He tightened his grip on her arm just above the elbow and spun her quickly around. LeAnn heard the paddle crack again just as the searing pain in her left butt-cheek registered in her confused mind, more like a burning smell in her nostrils than a sound or feeling. Her senses had been so pushed to the limits of normal sanity by the intense sequence of events of the past few minutes that she began to fear she might be losing her grip. Before she could even reconcile the sensations of the first blow, she felt the second strike on her right cheek, swift, hard and equally merciless. And so it went, Kurt methodically spanking her butt with a slow, deliberate cadence, alternating sides. They were well aimed upward glancing strokes, and just hard enough to make LeAnn cry out a little with each whack. LeAnn had thought of crying out in protest, trying to maintain her proper image, but it seemed silly and pretentious to her now. She might have faked indignation before, but now it was obvious that Kurt knew her dirty little secrets, knew she had been fantasizing about this. It was what it was, and she submitted. Kurt continued, breaking up the steady slow beat with irregular bouts of rapid spanks to each cheek, keeping her guessing, and coming from alternating angles until her cheeks were covered completely in a rosy hue. He knew this game; he knew what worked on girls like LeAnn. He kept up the pressure at a level that just turned her milk white skin red, but once every few beats he would punctuate with a whack that began immediately to raise into a welt, eliciting yelps of protest from LeAnn that were not the least bit pretentious. He laughed when he landed those, "Oops, that's gonna leave a mark!" He spoke calmly and softly to her in his deep voice as he spanked her rhythmically, "LeAnn, you know you need this. You've been a naughty little slut, playing with yourself in the toilet, looking at dirty magazines, wishing you had a big bad man to punish you for your bad deeds. I'm here to make all your wildest dreams come true, right now." Kurt stood back slightly and ordered LeAnn to put her hands behind her back and keep them there. He laid the paddle down on the desk and deftly slipped his belt from the loops of his pants. LeAnn gasped and her eyes went wide, "N-No Kurt, Please! Please don't use your belt on me, really please! Kurt smiled, "Pretty please?" LeAnn didn't hesitate, "Yes-yes, pretty, pretty please, with sugar on top, please Kurt, please don't, I couldn't take it." Kurt let go an easy laugh, "LeAnn honey, I had no intention of spanking you with the belt, even though you deserve it. I'm not that mean!" He shook his head as he chuckled, "No, I was just thinking we need to restrain you a little bit." LeAnn let out a deep breath and nodded her head slightly, immediately puzzled at the strange feeling of relief. Anticipation riveted her as Kurt looped the belt around her arms behind her back, slipped the end through the buckle, cinching it cruelly around her upper arms, drawing her elbows together tautly and pulling her shoulders back to a slightly uncomfortable degree. Kurt spun her back again, facing him. He loved the way she looked with her shoulders forced back. He grasped the straps of her bra and yanked them roughly down her arms. LeAnn gasped loudly as her breasts bounced out of the elastic cups, and then he gave her a little shove with the palm of his hand to the middle of her chest. She tottered back a half step until her inflamed butt cheeks came to rest against the thick top of the desk, and Kurt smiled sardonically, loving the way her titties bounce as she stumbled. "I hope you liked my little warm up spanking, here's where you find out if the fantasy in the porn mag was everything you'd hoped." Kurt could not stop grinning. This was just way too good to be true. "I'm really glad you didn't get a chance to spank your own pussy, I bet you would have gone light on yourself. I think you'll like this a lot better with somebody else in charge. She looked so cute with her skinny legs held together, her little hands covering her pudenda. He placed a large hand at the top of her head, covering it completely. Downward pressure was his answer. She let her eyes fall and bent her knees, submitting to the pressure as he kept pushing down, down, until the soft skin of her knees met the cold tile floor. She let her winsome little head fall back, and looked up with her quivering little pout and brown dolls eyes, "Please Kurt, please give me my clothes back...I thought we were friends, please?" Kurt looked down with a mirthless, merciless smile as he unbuckled his belt, undid his pants and let them slide down his legs, taking his boxers with them. She glanced up at Kurt's strange looking equipment dangling in front of her eyes. The cock sprang straight out from his body for a couple of inches, and then curved precipitously down in a long curve, as if pulled down by the weight of the suspended knob, which her eyes rested on as they followed the curve. Although the cock seemed to be mostly soft, it was very thick and veins stood out rampantly under the thin wrinkled skin, and the head looked to be swollen. Most of the length of the shaft lay tight against the weighty scrotum, which to LeAnn's alarm she noticed was cleanly shaven. Indeed, Kurt's all of pubic hair was neatly trimmed back to a tidy little ring around the base of his penis, and from there the remainder of his genitals were completely smooth and bare. "Sure we're friend's baby, hopefully we'll still be friends after you suck my cock, but you need to face facts: Start sucking the cock, or I'll walk right out of here with your clothes, in ten seconds," He began a slow count down, "10...9...8...7..." LeAnn's head hung shaking, "6...5...4" Kurt's cock twitched slightly, inches from her face, "3...2..." LeAnn closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out softly and touched the tip of his cock, "One...good girl LeAnn, now go ahead baby, get started." She licked softly at the tip in circular motions, the best she knew how, widening the arc of each stroke as she went. She had submitted, she knew she might as well get this over with. Kurt's hand still held her head like a basketball, urging her forward. He was starting to lose his patience. "Come on baby, I know you know how to do this," he started to speak in a condescending tone, "Open your mouth wide, cover your teeth with your lips and PUT THE COCK IN!" LeAnn got tight lipped, and spat, "Kurt, your balls smell sweaty, what do you expect?" She looked up at him I disgust, "You could have at least washed!" He grinned wide, "Ha, well, I did shower this morning, and at least I shave my sack, so I did my part." He glared down at her and growled, "It's your job now babygirl, you clean my nutsack with your tongue, right now!" LeAnn frowned with disgust as she stuck out her tongue, gingerly grazing the crinkly skin his scrotum with the tip. Kurt grabbed her suddenly by the hair at the back of her head and yanked back with shocking ferocity, leaning down into her upturned face. "I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going answer me truthfully, Yes?" He shook her head yes by the handful of hair. "I want you to tell me: Have ever watched a dog lick his balls? She started to shake her head no, but his hand was swift and slapped across her cheek. It was a calculated blow on Kurt's part, not hard enough to draw blood or even leave a bruise, but enough to let her know he meant business. "Wrong answer slut!" Tell me the right answer, now! "A dog licks his balls like he's trying to scratch an itch, and that's exactly the way I want you to do it." "Alright missy, here's your plan, it's a simple one. You take that cock in your hand and start stroking it while you lick my balls, and I mean lick! You spit on that sack and get it wet, and you lick and suck those balls until the flavor's gone, you hear me?!?" LeAnn nodded meekly. "Get to work bitch!" She did as Kurt said and began to lick his scrotum in earnest. His flaccid penis was stuck to his sweaty balls, and she had to peel it upward to get ahold of it and stroke it per his instructions. As she pulled the long cock away by its tip and the skin of his scrotum released its grip, her nose was assaulted by a sharp tangy scent, unlike any body odor she had ever experienced. It made her gag and she looked up at Kurt, pleading, "I think this might make me throw up." Kurt just said "Aw, sorry baby, are you disgusted by my scrotum? I have just the thing for that." He reached over to her desk and grabbed her waste basket. "There you go, I don't care if you puke, just puke in that." Even soft, it was difficult to get her small hand around the cock to stroke it as requested. LeAnn wondered ominously just how big it was going to get when it got hard. As she licked Kurts ballsack and stroked the cock, she could see she was going to find out pretty soon. It already began to swell in her hand rapidly, and she started jerking it hard, hoping to get this over with sooner than later. Kurt pulled the straps of her bra roughly down her shoulders one at a time, jerking the straps roughly to make her boobs pop out "C'mon LeAnn, suck those balls, suck them into your mout, one at a time baby." It was a strange looking penis. Most she had seen were mushroom shaped at the tip but this was cylindrical with a lot of loose skin bunched up at the tip.