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Taming the Peckerhead

By: IowaIke



"Damn that peckerhead," Sharon Trent grumbled as she set her coffee down hard on her desk. "I've worked hard for ten years to get this law office together, get the right people in the right jobs, and that asshole Frank has to fuck things up."

"I don't know how we can keep him," Monica Smith responded. "He's hit on every secretary in the outer office, both our law clerks, Priscilla and even me. The only reason he doesn't go after you is you're his boss. After we all chase him off, it's a week or two before he's making the rounds again. You'd think his ego would submit after all this rejection, but he's clueless. I don't know how me manages to be that smart and that stupid at the same time."

Sharon sat back in her overstuffed chair and looked out the window. "Must some kind of savant syndrome, hell, I don't know. Men can be wonderful and smart one minute and have their fly open and their cock out the next if there's any stimulus whatsoever."

"Sometimes they bring that, too. The stimulus."

"Well, he's first on my hit parade today and this time the riot act sticks. If this doesn't work, I'm renting him an office downstairs and changing the locks. I can't afford to lose him, he's too damn good, but he needs to grow up."

"To dream, the impossible dream..."

"Thanks Aldonza. We just need to make a pact to start busting his balls when he pulls this shit, and keep doing it until he stops."

"Yes, boss. Anything else this morning?"

"No, you and I both have enough to do. We're in court next week and need to be ready. Follow up with your witness list, and get Jill and Jack busy in the library."

"Just as long as they don't go up a hill..."

"Shut up, wiseass. I'm not in the mood today. Save the humor for happy hour. Get out of here, I need to psych up for this."

"Yes, boss." Monica closed the door gently behind her and Sharon had a moment to think. Her office spoke of the success of her firm, and all her employees were talented and motivated. She took a sip of coffee and planned her strategy. It was 8:45, and he would be there at 9.

Sharon was a reasonably attractive woman in her early 40s, not too thick or too thin, reasonably attractive without being drop dead gorgeous, with light brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her eyes were the set up, getting people to trust her, even when she was biding her time, waiting to lower the boom. Monica was the former model, who'd used her fame to build up a nest egg so she could get her law degree and have a useful live once her young beauty was past. Everyone else who worked there had a tough past; Sharon was happy to find people who had been down on their luck but willing to work their way into a better future. Her practice was rated in the top 5 up and coming firms in the region.

Frank Sherman was a great litigator with a checkered past. A man in his late 50s, he was the grey eminence of the firm. His presence was commending when he entered a room: a man in his mid 50s, immaculately groomed, piercing eyes, in excellent shape. He worked for the Russian Mafia for a few years, and had to relocate in the witness protection plan when he turned state's evidence against them. This identity was secure, but he had to keep his head low. Two other firms had ridden him out on a rail for sexual harassment, and this was his last chance: his protectors weren't going to put up with any more. Sharon, Monica and the others in the office relied on him for advice and experience in preparing their cases: he always knew what had to happen next, and which strategy they needed to pursue in a case. 

The man walked through her door promptly at 9, and stood in front of her desk without saying a word. He knew he was in trouble, but stood before her at attention, like a soldier at inspection, waiting for what was coming. Sharon looked at him for almost four minutes without speaking, waiting for him to blink, and let out a sigh of relief when he finally did. "Shit, Frank. You stupid motherfucker. This is the thanks you give me for being nice to you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm a man, that's all. Tired of living like a monk."

"Shut up. If you weren't on the Russian Mob's hit list, you'd be out the door and looking for work, if not on the way to jail. No other firm will take you, and you can't work on your own, it's too dangerous. There's no way we can bring you up on charges, if you do go to jail, you'll be dead in 24 hours. Why the fuck can't you keep your pecker in your pants?"

"I don't know, Sharon. I want to, I really want to."

"Don't bullshit me, Frank, you don't want to. I know it and you know it. We need to try something else, something that will keep your ass in line. Do you have any ideas?"

"You could put me in a place by myself."

"Nice try. You're here because we can hide you, screen the people who talk to you. Nobody know you work here other than us, and only Monica and I know your full story. If you want to die..."

"No," he said quickly. "No. My kids need support and I can't risk it. I know I can't control myself, I'll admit that to you. Maybe I ought to work from home."

"We may need to do that, but I don't trust the security enough. Talking with you live and in person is the best security, no electronic trail, no records of your presence. I just have to get you to focus on your job."

Frank nodded and stood in front of her. She could see the bulge in his pants; shit, did the man have no boundaries? They stared at each other for another minute, and she reached into her drawer for a ruler.

"I have to teach you a lesson, make you think twice, at least, get you to think with your head instead of your cock. Whip it out."

"Huh?"

"I said, open your pants, whip it out. You know what I mean. I don't have all day, dammit." Sheepishly, he unzipped himself and pulled his cock out: it was already semi-erect. "Get the balls out here, too. You need to remember I'm the one who's got them in my pocket." He complied with her order, and his entire equipment was on display.

"You're not a porn star, that's for sure. Six inches is respectable, but nothing to write home about. No, don't tell me, I know it's how you wiggle your worm that matters. I have five brothers and a father who never wore bathrobes, I've seen floppy dicks of all sizes ever since I can remember. Not to mention my own twin boys whose dirty diapers I changed twenty years ago. So you're not special, Frank, not by a long shot. Nobody around here is desperate enough to pay attention to your pathetic dick. And it's not just what you're packing, buster, it's your shitty attitude. Well, we're going to change that."

She took a 12 inch ruler in her hand and swatted his package with it. "You will learn to keep this under control." The head was bobbing in front of her, reaching for her, and she spanked it hard twice with the plastic weapon. "You will learn to control yourself." Next came a shot on each testicle: he grunted as she hit him, but didn't move otherwise. "I will make you hurt so the next time you think of getting into Monica's, or Jill's, or Kristie's panties, you'll remember this." She hit this shaft several times in succession before returning to the balls. "Every time you get horny you'll feel this pain."

The skin was reddening, but her treatment seemed to be having the opposite effect. Harder and harder she hit his cock, and it kept getting harder. Spanking his balls had the same effect: she grabbed the head of his cock and squeezed it hard while she paddled them, and he seemed to enjoy it. She looked up at him quizzically: "What kind of pervert are you, Frank?"

"Really, Sharon, this has never happened to me before. I've only had tenderness..."

She smacked his cock hard with her bare hand, making it bounce back and forth a few times before stopping. "Shut up. I'm fed up with your games. It worked for the Russian Mob but it won't work with me. For all I care, they can kill you any way they want, but I have an agreement I'm going to live up to." She hit him again and kept hitting him. The sound of her spanking rang through the room in spite of the shag carpeting, overstuffed couches and plush chair she had for her own. He grunted and whined as she punished him, begging for mercy, but also got more and more excited with every stroke and squeeze.

Finally, Sharon got frustrated. She grabbed the head of his cock, squeezing it hard, and spanked the shaft as hard as she could 4, 8, 12 times. He gasped and began to shudder and to her surprised, a glob of moisture snuck out. More hard blows fell, and he started gasping; soon he screamed and a blast hit her right in the area of her mouth.

Sharon was wearing a ruffled silk blouse, black skirt and pantyhose, and she didn't want her clothing ruined since she was due in court that afternoon. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and took everything he spewed forth, taking the end in her mouth to milk it dry. She was afraid it would overflow, but she got enough down to keep it all in, where it didn't ruin her appearance.

The taste was nasty, and when he was done, she spat the load into her wastebasket, dabbing her mouth with a kleenex, and trying to get every drop that lingered on her lips blotted up. After that was done, she took a huge gulp of her coffee, hoping it would cut that awful flavor. "What the hell do you eat every day?"

Frank was stunned, watching the scene with his cock hanging out, red and marked by its recent abuse. "I'm a meat and potatoes, man. Maybe some eggs for breakfast."

"Shit. All right, you think you've got your wandering eye under control now? Think you can think without your dick?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure." 

"Then get the hell out of here." He put himself back, and darted out the door. It was amazing: he'd never moved that fast in her sight before. Sharon gathered her thoughts, looked in a mirror to make sure no trace of semen lingered on her face or clothes, and took another sip of coffee to clear her mouth. 

The rest of the day was quiet, no problems. Monica, Jill and Kristie all asked him for advice on their work and he answered them professionally, without a hint of improper attention.

Three days later, Sharon had Frank back in her office before the rest of the staff came in. "You've been a good boy, Frank. Congratulations. We may be able to keep you."

"Thanks, Sharon, for everything. I think my cock has almost healed from the beating you gave it. The things you find out about yourself as you get older. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yes, Frank?"

"Would you mind doing that again sometime? That was the best..."

"Hush." She looked at him: he wasn't unattractive, and perhaps he could be controlled. Since she knew what he wanted, what made him happy... "All right, Frank. We'll try something out. How long did it take you to recover?"

"Oh, I'm feeling pretty good now, back to normal. In fact..."

"Yes, I know. If we didn't need you so damn much...can you follow my directions, do anything I ask you?"

"Sure, Sharon. I guess so."

"From now on, you need to cut back a little on the steak and potatoes and eat a few salads. Instead of lunch or dinner. And pineapple. Do you like fresh pineapple?"

"Yeah, it's all right."

"Well, it's got to be more than all right. You come in early Tuesday and Friday, and I'll make sure you're focused on your work. You do as you're told, and you'll get what you need. Call it a methadone program for perverts. You eat a bunch of fresh pineapple today, and I won't spit your wad into the wastebasket. Don't want to explain that to the cleaning staff, anyway. Understand?"

"Yes, Sharon. Looking forward to it."

"And no flowers, no candy, don't treat me like one of your bimbos. Don't call me 'Mistress', either, I'm not in this for the fun of it. This is business, this is motivation. I'm your boss and you will remember that. If you don't, I'll bite your damn balls off."

Frank looked at her a little strangely. "Well, if you put it that way. How can I say no?"

"How can you? Get the fuck out of here and be here tomorrow at 8AM. And don't forget the pineapple."

"Yes, boss. I can hardly wait."

Taming the Peckerhead Pt. 02



"What the fuck are you doing here, peckerhead?" Monica Smith wasn't in a good mood: her babysitter was sick, the sleet made her commute an unnecessary thrill ride, and she wasn't far from her period. Frank Sherman's knock on her door the first thing on a Friday morning startled her; the rest of the office called in and said they wouldn't make it on the ice rink roads. "I've got too many headaches already today."

Frank stood a little sheepishly in front of the door. He was dressed immaculately in a sharp three piece suit which projected quiet power, his hair was perfectly groomed, his face clean shaven, and his face hinted a possible relation to Maurice Chevalier. Concern was evident in his furrowed brow and pursed lips. "Is Sharon going to be in today?" he asked in a humble voice.

"Hell no. I don't know what gets into that woman, everybody knows you don't cross Judge Klein. She's been too impressed by Kim Davis; I think she's trying to set a new record of imprisonment for a contempt charge."

"I went to law school with Phil. Only reason he made judge because he's too stupid to practice law on his own, and always was a major league asshole. Have you talked with her lately?"

"Visited her last night. Another week and she'll organize the first successful prison revolt in Benton County history. No, she won't budge. You know how she is when she thinks she's right."

Frank snickered. "Yeah, I do. Well, she's been helping me with something regularly and it's been two weeks..."

Monica looked at him, a startled look on her face, and stood up. "Oh, right! You can't go to the jail to visit her, it's too dangerous since you're on the Russian Mob's hit list. If you want to brief me on the cases you're working with her, I'll be glad to go down this morning."

He looked own and shuffled his feet. "She's been helping me with something a little more personal..."

"Yes?" She sat down again, relaxing.

"You know a few months ago she wanted to tame my...baser instincts a little?"

"I remember. You've become a new man; I must say I'm amazed."

"Well, I've been stopping by for a little...therapy, you might say."

Monica smoothed her black woolen skirt. "You could say more."

"Well, I've got kids, you know. My oldest boy is in Harvard Law School and barely talks to me, and his brother's at Stanford. They need my help now and then, want to make sure they get a good start in life, but there's my youngest. My little precious princess is turning three tomorrow, and I'd do anything for her. Christ, she'll have to become a nun because I would gladly disembowel anyone who'd hurt a hair on her head. Anyway, when Sharon confronted me about my...proclivities six months ago, we worked something out that...satisfied my appetite regularly so I'd behave. I've got to take care of my little princess so her mother can stay at home and look after her right. But the Beast just won't be satisfied, and I've got a way with women..."

"Yes, I know. Kinda, sorta. I've always found you completely resistible. The kids I understand; I had to wait to have mine, and next year when Billy and Sandy go to First Grade, I'd like to have another."

"I didn't know you were married."

"I'm not, never have been. Froze a lot of my eggs a few years ago, and got the embryos implanted after I retired from modeling. You remember Serenity Adams, don't you?"

"Oh yes. You were stunning in those swimsuit issues. You look wonderful today in that grey sweater, by the way, it...highlights your form so well."

"Thanks, but I know where that's going and we talked about that. Anyway, I know what you mean about taking care of your children. So what's Sharon been doing to shrink your pecker?"

He looked out the window for a long moment, unable to talk. "Sharon has been satisfying my urges herself."

"How?"

Another pause. "She's been sucking my cock."

Monica stood up, eyes blazing, hands defiantly on her hips. "No, I don't think so. Not like her at all, giving in to a slimy request like that. She'd rather bust your nuts than suck your cock, that I know. There's got to me something else, or something more."

Still looking out the window, he whispered. "She's been spanking my cock and balls. Making them good and sore. I can't get it up for days after that. That's how far I'll go for my little princess, keep myself in line so I can be what she needs me to be. To keep making money for her."

"I thought there was something strange about this. Damn, she has been literally busting your balls. So she doesn't suck your cock, does she?"

He looked her in the eyes and spoke in a normal voice. "It always makes me hard beyond belief. Never knew it before, but torture makes me ejaculate. She takes in the mouth so she doesn't get it on her clothes or have to spit it in the wastebasket for the cleaners to find. I even changed my diet so I'd taste better to her."

Monica tapped her foot, looking down at the floor to her left. Looking up at him a couple of times, she found it hard to wrap her brain around the idea. "I always knew she was a little strange. All right, what do you want me to do?"

"Well, since she's not here, I wondered if you would...?"

"What makes you think I'd consider such a thing?"

He looked her in the eyes. "Sparkle Vanderbilt."

"What?" She blinked in surprise, taken aback.

"That was your name for another kind of modeling. Pictures, videos. You made porn, did just about everything, every category."

She glared at him. "I'll remind you that you have a bigger secret to keep than I. Blackmail won't work here..."

"I know, Monica. But you know this game, you've done it before, and it will mean nothing to you. Well, I'm sure you wouldn't want to do some of the things you used to do, but you'll be in control, and I won't ask you any more after Sharon gets out of jail. I promise. I swear on dear little Tammy's blond curls. I need this, it's been too long, and I've got blue balls so bad..."

She paced back and forth a little bit, thinking. At last, she turned and said: "Whip it out. Get your pathetic pecker out here for me, and your nasty nuts." A grin broke across his face as he complied. "Smallest dick I ever dealt with, but I'll have no trouble turning it good and red. Hope your promise of tasting good is worth it, but I'm not your boss and I'm not going to be your Dom, either. There will be a price to pay and it won't be money. Will you pay the price?"

Beads of sweat began appearing on his brow. "What will it be?"

"Whatever the fuck I feel like," she said with a cool, icy glare.

Frank though for a moment, but his cock got harder and harder, filling out to stand straight out from his body. She looked at it contemptuously and smacked it hard with her palm, making it bounce back and forth. He finally said, "Yes. Can I see your tits?"

"Hell, no. If you know where they are on the Internet, I'll let you pull the image up on your iPhone. No, you can't see them in the flesh." Pulling his device out of his pocket, he made three thumbstrokes and smiled. She looked at it and sneered, "Yeah, that's one of my favorites. Always like how they looked tied up. This will cost you. You must have had it bookmarked."

"Will you get the ruler from Sharon's desk?" He took a deep shuddering breath.

She hit his cock hard again, making a loud slap and making him cringe. "Who's in charge here? I'll beat you with whatever I want. But I don't have anything in my drawer to hit you with. Stand here, don't touch yourself and wait for me to get back."

"Yes, Monica." His heart raced as he stood there, looking out the window at the sleet, his penis rock hard and almost jiggling on its own in anticipation.

A minute later she returned, slapping him hard on the ass when she came in. "You probably have fond memories tied up in this thing. All right, I'll sit in my chair and you come over where I can beat you. Touch me, and you'll regret it."

"Yes, Monica." After a light tap, she took the head of his cock between her lips and tongued it for a few moments, making him gasp. Then, as he was settling into the delightful sensations, she hit him in his left ball, then the right, before setting it free and smacking it up and down the length. Frank winced with every shot, she hit him much harder than Sharon did. Then another few moments of kindness before another round of abuse. Looking up at him with schoolgirl eyes, she played with her blond hair a minute or two before smacking the dick several times. It was turning red, and Frank expected to shoot his load soon, but just as the wave started to soar up through his cock, she grabbed it with an iron grip.

"Not yet, you peckerhead. You'll do it only when I let you, and not a moment before."

"Yes, Monica. But please, please, I can't take this. Beat me some more and I'll be sore for days and you'll be safe. Can't take edging more than once."

"I see," she said, looking at him with contempt. "Very well, let's get this out of your system."

The ruler met red flesh several more times, making him whimper but making the end of his cock gooey with pre-cum. Monica noticed this, and hit him a few more times, impressed how the abuse was stimulating him. She got close, and took the end of his cock in her mouth again, biting lightly on the knob, making him wail. "Shut up. You should be happy I'm not going to peg you later." His left nut went in her mouth for a couple moments soft tonguing before a toothy vise compressed it a little, making him squirm. Then the right one suffered the same treatment, before she went out to the head, sucking and licking while beating his shaft and balls mercilessly. He started dancing and she held off a little, making him wait a little before taking him over the edge.

Frank howled like a banshee when his juices shot into Monica's mouth. It was difficult, but she managed to suck it all down, running her tongue all around to gather his output. She let him go with a pop, running her finger over her lower lip to taste his nectar. "Sharon's done good things for your diet, I can tell. Will this hold you for a while?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you, Monica."

"Not so fast. Now you pay me. Down on your knees." She got off her chair to sit on the edge of her desk, where she spread her legs while pulling her black skirt up. "Here's the price, and I'm sure you can pay it. You lick my pussy until I'm happy, and I'll tell you when. You keep the fact I don't wear underwear a secret."

"Done. I do have a little experience at this."

"Show me."

Frank got down on all fours, wincing as his bony knees met the floor, and starting kissing the inside of her knee. His tongue snaked up her skin until it found her forested valley, with her slit running down the center. She grabbed his ears and thrust his mouth against her clit. "No messing around, get going."

He did, moving his tongue up and down her folds, swirling her clit. After a couple of minutes, she took his hands and put them under her sweater, encouraging them higher. "Squeeze my tits, milk my nipples. You almost lick cunt as good as a woman. Keep licking me, Frank."

He murmured a muffled reply. Her breathing became more shallow as she approached her orgasm; the foreplay of abuse must have gotten her wet, Frank thought. His face was trapped against her crotch so he could hardly breathe. His hands worked her breasts and she purred, her fingers twirling in his ears in encouragement. Higher and higher her voice went, as her body because more and more uncontrollable, until she gasped and shot a spray all over his face.

Frank kept his head in place until she pushed it away, then he stood up and adjusted his tie. She lounged back on her desk, her eyes closed, lost in sensations for a few moments, until her eyes opened and grew cold. "Nobody else is here, so you're not going to wash your face the rest of the day. You will smell my cunt juice until you get home, when you can wash it off and brush your teeth."

"Yes, Monica."

"Tuesday is the next time you're due?"

"I don't think I need another go on Tuesday, this will hold me for a week. You're so much better than Sharon."

A cruel smirk crossed her face. "That may be, but it's her job when she gets back. In the meantime, you get your butt back in here Tuesday morning; I think I like you eating me out."

Frank gave her a smirk, realizing an opening. "Of course."