Wednesday 9/25
Dear Diary,
The little cunt was a no-show. I guess I need to teach him what happens when he stands me up.
Had an interesting little conversation with Margo today. She basically confronted me about why stupidname was crying in her office two days in a row.
BTW, I’m getting a little tired of writing out stupidname, so I think I’m going to shorten it to SN if it’s all the same to you Diary. I knew you’d understand.
Anyway, I pretty much came clean to Margo, we’re very good friends as you know, and she’s hella kinky so I had a hunch she’d know where I was coming from. I gave her a basic rundown of losing interest in Ethan, and getting off on making SN cry. She asked me if I was “domming” SN. I told her I didn’t know what that meant but that I was having a fantastic time rubbing myself to orgasm on the back of his pretty femboi head while he wept quietly in shame. She just nodded knowingly, and asked me if he was enjoying it too, and I told her I honestly don’t really give a fuck whether he’s enjoying it or not, but judging from his raging hard-ons, and mastubatory escapades I’d say yeah, he was enjoying it a lot and and hating himself for it every bit as much if not more, which of course, made it all the better for me.
She shrugged and called it a “win/win”. Then told me we should get coffee at this place she goes. I said sure, day after tomorrow.
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Thursday, 9/26
Dear diary,
SN came back today, all tail-between-his-legs. He actually came over to MY desk and apologized for missing our “meeting”. Said he hoped we could reschedule for today. He stared at the floor the whole time, kicking at his own shoes like a naughty freckled kid in a 1950’s sitcom.
I’m still not entirely sure what to make of it. I mean why apologize? Hey Rebecca, no hard feelings about molesting me.. twice. Sorry about missing our coffee date. Srsly wtf? Anyway, I smiled REAL big, told him no worries!, that with all the extra time he gave me to think about our “issue” we’d have a WAY more productive meeting today than we would have had yesterday. He didn’t take that well, blushing like a schoolgirl and getting this really pained expression on his face, like he’d suddenly gotten indigestion. So message delivered I guess.
I came by his desk at fika time.. he saw me coming, no doubt suspecting that I’d pick the same time. He stood up of his own accord; he’d just been sitting there, staring at his already locked screen in excrutiating anticipation. Seeing me, he unhappily grabbed his jacket with this look on his face like he was a death row inmate being escorted to the chair. I couldn’t help but smile, probably wickedly, but also happy and excited. I mean seeing him stand up like that.. all miserable but acquiescent — accepting of his fate. The fate I had decided for him. You could just see, he had NO idea what was in store, but he knew it was going to be humiliating, and he knew that I was going to touch him — make a plaything of him, and he was not Ok with it, but he was going to surrender himself to me anyway, because his surrender was inevitable (but he had no idea why). I got this amazing gushy warm feeling. “aww, don’t be sad” I taunted him, leading him to the elevators, “this is going to be fun!”
He didn’t reply. Kid’s learning fast.
The elevator opened with a bunch of lawyers from the floors above. He made to get on, but I caught him by the collar, telling them we’d catch the next one. One of the classy/hot lady lawyers raised an eyebrow at whatever expression SN was wearing when I yanked him back like I had him on a leash (girls know what’s up, (also hmm, a leash. Not a bad idea)). Anway the next elevator was empty so I got on and he follwed me. I waited for the doors to close and the fun began.
“POSITION ZERO BITCH” I commanded, and glancing back at me startled, he shot me this look like “really? on the elevator?” and pensively dropped to his knees and spread his legs for me (perfect height too! I wonder if he practiced?).
I stepped in front of him so he was facing me, and pulled up my skirt, quickly working my panties down around my ankles and off my boots. He started hyper-ventalating at the sight of me working my panties off, he didn’t get a full view, but he saw a lot of thigh, and he didn’t try to touch or anything. I tripped a little bit getting them over one of my combat boots, nervous we’d stop to pick up more passengers before we hit the ground floor. I leaned on his head for support, which earned me a gasp; but so far he was holding it together pretty well. With them finally off, I balled them up in front of his face, his eyes buldging as he realized what I was about to do.
“Sorry kid. No coffee for you today” I apologised, shoving my panties into his mouth; using my thumbs to really forcibly wedge them in as deep as they’d go; even though he had plenty of room. (for future reference, I bet I could fit 5 or 6 pairs in there).
“close.” I patted his chin, and he did, looking at me with a pleading sort of expression on his face, his eyes tearing up.
“NO.” I said wagging a finger at him. “No tears today. This is a 5 block walk, and you’re gonna have to breath through your nose.” He blinked, looking up at me, his expression going from pleading to incredulous.
“Yeah that’s what happens when you stand me up, deal with it bitch. And honestly? What the fuck is YOUR problem? A girl you’re crushing on just shoved her panties in your mouth, it’s hot. You’re fine. You can do this.” I lifted him up by his chin as the elevator dinged.
I walked him to one of those shitty, food-by-the-pound bodegas in the financial district (although one I happened to know brewed counter-culture coffee (I’m not a heathen)), because I didn’t want to see anyone either of us knew. More like marched him there really, I walked him as fast as I possibly could, so that by the time we got there he was panting pretty heavily through his nose, and no doubt swallowing a lot of spit that had been brewed in my panties. I wanted to make it hurt, and I was pretty creamy at the thought that he was tasting me the whole way there; struggling to breath around the aroma and flavor of my juicy girlparts. Anyway, when we got there, I stopped him outside the door and made a huge show of completely unlacing both of my combat boots (I’d worn the skirt/boots combo for a reason 😉 ), placing the laces in my pockets.
I ordered a 12 ounce coffee for me, and obnoxiously asked him if he wanted anything. “How about you? You want anything? They have pretty great danish’s here.”. He blushed and shook his head no. His mouth was already all full of my panties what more could he want? “No? Oh, you’re full? Ok just this coffee then please. Oh crap,” I mockingly patted my skirt “I forgot my wallet, would you?”. I watched him wordlessly pay for my coffee and gave him a little squeeze on the ass. He jumped, grunting. “Yeah!” I replied happily, “thanks toots!” my hand still palming his butt-cheek “such a white-knight”. I sat us down at a table toward the back, away from the window. The tables were your run-of-the-mill laminated particle board, with a single, center post variety. There weren’t any tablecloths or anything which was pretty much exactly what I wanted.
“You have a stupid fucking name” I informed him as he settled down, and he actually nodded, as if to say ‘yup’. Well two points for that, but I mean it is objectively stupid. He wouldn’t be much of an engineer if he couldn’t be objective. “I think we should rename you” I offered, but he pretty obviously didn’t like the sound of that. “No?”, well ok. I guess I’ll just keep on calling you kid or bitch until we figure something else out. I’ll think about it” I promised.
I sipped my coffee, taking him in. He sat there, uncomfortable with me watching, not wanting to swallow. Before long his mouth filled up and his hand was forced, he averted his eyes (toward the wall), slurp-sucking his spit out of my soaked undies with his lips closed, and (excruciatingly self-consciously) swallowing, blushing wildly like a bouquet of roses all for me. Jesus.
“Oh look at that. My shoe is untied” I said, taking one of the laces from my pocket and dropping it on the floor next to my right boot. He raised his eyebrow at me, confused.
“BITCH. My shoe is UNTIED” I repeated myself, loudly enough that several of the working-class slogs scooping away at the food-by-the-pound buffet heard me, looking over warily. SN, finally catching the drift self-consciously dropped to his hands and knees for me (yet again) under the table, taking up the laces and going to work on my boot in clear view of everyone.
“There’s a good girl” I cooed at him, lifting my left foot out of my boot and giving him a little stroke on his knee. If he looked up, he’d have a spectacular view up my skirt of my leaky vagina this time. I don’t know if he did or not, since I went back to sipping my coffee and glaring at the patrons brave enough to glance in our direction.
When he finally finished (these boots are literally the most difficult to lace footwear I own), he reseated himself, swallowing again uncomfortably, and adjusting his erection so that it wasn’t (as) visible to the restaurant. He must have done the math and realized that I’d be making him do the other boot as well at some point in the near future, because now he was wearing that beat-down not-looking-forward-to-what-I-know-is-coming-for-me expression, the exact same one from the other day when I knocked his headphones off his head and announced that it was FIKA TIME. Aww, poor thing. And he’d been maintaining such a positive attitude right up to that point.
“Where do you see this going?” I mused, looking at him curiously. Trying to puzzle out what was in this for him. Probably a latent result of my conversation yesterday with Margot. Like you could spit those things out and run kid, I’m not your boss. Ain’t nobody keeping you here. And you must know by now that I’m not going to marry you and move back to Idaho with you to make babies on your chicken ranch.
He gave a little pensive shrug, and pointed to his mouth, raising an eyebrow; asking MY permission to remove my spit-soaked panties from his mouth. God, I rubbed my thighs together at the sight of it, it was amazing.
“Nope. Those stay in until we get back. This isn’t me talking to you, it’s me talking at you. I would have thought my gagging you with my fucking panties made it clear that I wasn’t interested in listenting to you talk today. Oh look at that. My shoe is untied” I said, dropping the other lace next to my left boot. He dropped to his knees for me (again), pretty sure I heard a horny little moan that time, going to work on my other boot. I sipped my coffee thinking it over. How could he possibly be getting off on this? I mean I was certainly enjoying myself. I couldn’t imagine that he was too, but the evidence seemed to indicate otherwise. I mean I guess they invented the word masochist for a reason right? I rubbed the side of his head lightly with my right knee. But what does that make me, a sadist? I don’t feel like a sadist (she says to herself as her pet femboi laces her boot under the restaurant table with his mouth full of her dirty underwear). But I mean like, I don’t want to see him bleed or anything, I’m just really getting off on the power-trip of humiliating him. That’s healthy right? He finished much more quickly with the left boot (fucking overachiever) and sat back down, all ablush, that hard-on of his still raging.
Maybe I should just ask. I mean what the hell, I can shove my thumb in his mouth but it’s somehow over the line to ask if he enjoyed it?! “Are you enjoying yourself?” I kind of blurted; feeling a little awkward and stupid. He looked down at the table bashfully, and sat there for 10 seconds or so, before nodding his head really slowly, completely ashamed of his own confession. Great. Now it was my turn to blush like a schoolgirl. “Yeah you looked like you might be” I nodded at his crotch, trying to keep a lid on my own emotions, earning myself a mortified whine from him in the process.
Anyway there it was. Confirmation. He was getting off on this too; he wanted it to continue. I was sorry I asked. I don’t know why, but his affirmation scared me. I guess before he admitted it, I figured I’d be rid of him if I just stopped hazing him. I figured he’d be grateful to be ignored. But now there was this thing between us. We both knew it was there, even though neither of us really knew just what it was. Was I stuck with this brat? Was this a relationship? Was I somehow responsible for him now?
Anyway that rattled me. I wanted to call time out. “Ok, well. Lets get back.” I stood up, probably a bit nervously and made for the door with him in tow. I marched him back (uphill this time lol), and by the time we hit the elevator he was heaving and making nasty slurping sounds trying to keep the spit down, which completely drowned out my worries, I mean you should have heard him. My obedient little fuck-toy. Mouth all full of my flavor. Struggling against his body to hold it together; literally choking on my underwear, marching like a trooper despite the hard-on my abuse had given him. Just the sound of him behind me put me right back into a horny lather of not-give-a-fuck.
The elevator doors closed again and I put him in position zero again, stepping in front of him. “this is position 1. Just like zero, but facing me ok?”. Eager-to-please nod (He was looking forward to having his mouth back). Fuck. 3 minutes from now I would head straight to the ladies room and masturbate to that nod. I took a plastic baggie out of my back pocket. “Ok. You’ve been a very good girl today. I’m really proud of you. spit.” I said, holding the bag under his chin. He looked up at me, taking one last slurp to get as much spit as he could out of them, swallowing one last time (holy fuck.. I shuddered, just about jizzing myself at the sight), then he carefully spit my panties into the bag, huge nasty ribbons of drool from his lips, as if his mouth was reluctant to let my panties go.
“Better get used to that flavor kid” I warned him, looking at the bag thoughtfully. And then I had a bit of an improvizational ephiphanmy.
“Jeeze, you got them all wet” I teased, painting them across his face as if trying to wipe them dry. “uuuhhhhh” he moaned as I spread the nastiness across his pretty blushing face. Pretty sure he finally creamed his jeans as I did it. My knuckle under his chin brought him to his feet again as the floor dinged. He stood in front of me.. the closest our faces had been so far. I could feel his breath on my forehead. He brought his sleeve to his face as the doors opened, but I knocked it away.
“Leave it. Take it to the bathroom with you. Clean it there.” I ordered. Knowing he’d have to walk the entire length of the floor, all soggy, slathered in our combined juices to get to the mens room. Anyway it’d be a shame to ruin that brand-new jacket of his. He nodded, holding my eyes for once; Grateful. Hungry. Awakened. The feeling was mutual. His lips parted like he was about to say something, and then he walked away.
I think he might have kissed me if his face hadn’t been dripping with panty-spit.
God help me, I think I might have let him.