Sue's Boy



 
Sue's Boy:
Femdom Stories
2008-02-20
Sue muttered under her breath, "Bitch." I pretended not to hear. I was above name-calling. God knows I'd have plenty of material if I wanted to play that game. I was better than that.

Sue had personal problems or maybe she just didn't like guys. She'd screw any guy that would hop in the sack but I don't think she really liked them. She was just a horny wench. That's why she hated me. I certainly wasn't going to fuck her. Just the thought of it made me retch.

Sue haunted the local bars every night in her effort to get laid. When closing time rolled around any drunk that was horny enough, and hadn't already hooked up with someone, usually gave her a tumble. I doubt that she'd had a sober cock inside her in the last ten years. Sometimes Sue accommodated more than one drunk. Like I say, she was a horny wench.

The lifestyle didn't exactly agree with keeping office hours. She didn't miss many days but she was late all the time, dragging herself in all bleary-eyed and puffy-faced from lack of sleep and too much alcohol.

As the senior employee in our office I was on her ass constantly to be on time. That's why she called me a bitch. Well, she didn't actually call me a bitch. No. The chickenshit slut whispered it behind my back. If I'd known that others heard her I would have called her out - maybe. I don't know. But anyway that's how it started.

I felt sorry for Sue. In her younger days she was quite a looker. The reason I know is because, in place of the pictures of family and loved ones that all the rest of us had on our desks, Sue had pictures of herself when she was young. She had no family. She was alone. All she had were memories of youth. It was sad.

So I cut her some slack. I let her get away with saying things about me. I assumed everyone understood my point of view and gave me credit for taking the high road. They knew about Sue. They knew I was right. Sue was just so pathetic.

I was mistaken.

I'd walk into a room full of stifled laughter and sidelong glances knowing I was the subject of derision or the butt of a joke.

"What?" I'd ask. All I got back was silence or "Nothing." In reply.

More and more I heard snips of "Bitch", whiffs of "Wuss" or some other derogatory remark I knew was aimed at me. I was always 'mistaken' it seems. I was 'hearing things', they told me.

Sue became more popular. I, on the other hand, was now openly mocked.

The women would say to one another, "What did you call me?" and laugh. I knew they were imitating me but what could I do?

Then it happened. I told Heather she couldn't have her day off that she'd asked for -- that she was granted, actually. Because I needed it and I had seniority.

She pitched a fit. But we were friends, I thought, I figured she'd get over it. After all, wasn't it more important that I take my goldfish for his regular check up than her getting an extra day of a honeymoon?

Anyway, after that I heard her say to Sue, "You'd better get your bitch back on his leash before he gets hurt." I knew who she meant. I knew Heather meant me. And the implied violence! Well, I know I should have nipped it in the bud right there but I understood that she was upset and, like I said, we were friends. So...I let it go.

But that set a precedent. Now they all called me bitch. Openly. "Hey, bitch, we need more paper clips." Or "Bitch bring me a soda back from the cafeteria." Or even just talking amongst themselves they looked over toward me and commented, loudly, "Fucking cunt-sop...I'll bet the little creep's never been laid. Ass licker. ...picture of a goldfish! ..what a sissy-bitch!"

That did it! That goldfish was my life. Why shouldn't I have his picture on my desk? I couldn't let these shrews get away with making light of it.

I could have pulled rank at any time. For all practical purposes I ran the office. I was, essentially, an unpaid supervisor. I'd been there much longer than any of them. I knew I could get them all fired. All I had to do was snap my fingers.

I'd had enough of being Mr. Niceguy.

I went to my see our boss.

"Damn, Clyde, you are a Bitch." My Boss said. "You're so damn prissy. My gosh, I couldn't believe what you did to Heather. Fuck your goddam goldfish. I try to stay out of things and just let everything sort itself out. That's my policy. But you are getting a little whacko lately. I told Heather just to call in sick and forget about it rather than start some big brouhaha. But you are nuts. I mean where do you get off? Who made you Boss? I didn't. I let you nag Sue because I figure she's been around the block. She can take care of herself. But, frankly Clyde, I'd have dotted your eye's if that was me. I don't care what time she comes in as long as her work is done and turned in on time. And it is. Better than anything you turn in. If you spent more time on your own work and less worrying about everyone else maybe- ahhh--! Just get the hell out of my office, will you, Clyde? You're creepin' me out."

So there it was... the truth.

I felt as useless as a crumpled piece of waste paper. I was a bitch... and a creep. I wasn't essential - far from it. What a joke! I'd been fooling myself. I wanted to crawl somewhere and die. Just curl up and die. I was worthless.

I walked past Sue's open door and heard Heather's voice say, "Have your bitch do it."

I walked in. They stopped talking and looked at me. Heather looked sheepish, contrite. I guess she looked in my empty eyes and saw how devastated I was and took pity. She got up and left.

Sue looked pissed.

I closed the door.

"What the fuck do you want, asshole? This is my office and I didn't ask you to come in, did I?" She said.

"I heard Heather say you might want your bitch to do something for you. Well here I am. I'm your bitch."

Her attitude only intensified. She thought of how long she'd put up with my piddly shit and all my stupidity. The memory of it galled her.

"Get under the desk."

I obeyed.

"See all that stuff? All the paper scraps and debris along the backboard? I was complaining to Heather what a half-ass job the cleaning crew did. She suggested you clean it up, Bitch."

I picked up the bits of paper and dust balls and discarded them in a basket that Sue offered.

"Now I've got something else for you to clean, Fishboy."

She pulled her panties off and slid down in her chair with one leg on the desk the other draped over the arm. All the fat of her thighs bulged white over the tight tops of her black stockings. Her fat ass hung over the edge of the seat.

Through the small open space between her lap, her legs, and the desktop I looked up at her.

Her puffy face, greasy under heavy rouge and purple eye makeup, bore all the years of degradation she'd endured as a lowdown barroom slut. Her naked need for some type of closeness, some type of affection, was buried under that makeup. I could see it now. Too late.

Her eyes narrowed as she curled her lip in a righteous sneer.

Her judgement was like a giant mallet that she wielded high above her head and brought down hard as she hammered it into me. The gigantic weight of her contempt came down with a massive Tha-WhUMP! and mashed itself into me. The utter finality marked me with the indelible stamp of "BITCH" embossed in black ink on my sorry excuse for a life. Everything I thought good and right was false and wrong.

All of my old self-image was being squished out of me. Out of my mind. Out of my body. Sue cleansed my senses inside out.

Nobody liked me. Nobody wanted me. No one respected me. I was a lie.

Sue set me straight.

I was now her bitch, just like she always said, and that was the truth.

I kissed the cellulite of her cottage cheese ass cheeks as they drooped over her chair. I begged her forgiveness.

"Shut up and eat me, bitch." was all she said.

I did.

I stuck my face in her sloppy cunt and nearly drowned. It was exhilarating. It was a just comeuppance after all the grief I put her through. I deserved to die face down in her stinking crotch.

"You're not getting off that easy, FuckFace." She said as she pulled me out by my hair. She made me catch my breath and then she stuck my face back in her, grinding it around, "Use that fucking tongue of yours, slut! You sure as hell gave it enough exercise dogging me everyday for the last ten years, asshole."

Like a confessed penitent who feels relief in taking his punishment, I reveled in the squalor of her service. It was sweet justice indeed.

Sue still kept her late schedule, she still needed cock, but without me nagging her she began to get to work on time. It seems a good rim job first thing in the morning worked wonders as a hangover cure. Sue found it very refreshing. I didn't mind her beer farts - really - but it put her in a good humor to think so. So I'd gag and act beaten down and beg "Please don't fart in my face. Please. I'm doing the best that I can." It gave her good opportunity to slap me around which brightened her disposition considerably. It was all in a day's service for me. I was content.

Sue made me take courses in massage and learn to do pedicures and manicures and how to apply makeup.

The upshot of all this was that Sue started getting laid earlier in the evening by a better class of men. She started feeling better about herself and trimmed her weight. She started going out on actual dates and eventually married a decent guy.

She no longer despised me and I became more of a maid or a house-servant than a sex-slave.

I became almost like a sister, actually.

Her husband didn't like having another guy around all the time so Sue dressed me up in some of her old clothes and a wig as a compromise. It didn't take long before I was strutting around in heels like an old pro -- only one or two ass whippings as I recall.

My work life was much better too after I became Sue's official Bitch and slave.

For one thing I was the hit of Heather's bachelorette party. All the girls got to sexually abuse me in every way imaginable. At one point I ate Heather's mom while Heather herself fucked me in the ass with a huge strap on. Then they traded places. It was quite sweet for me. I get emotional even thinking about it. They'll always have that bond.

The high point of the evening for me was the respect they showed my Domme, Sue. As she clipped the leash on my collar and began to lead me out, everyone came up to thank her for her generous donation of my ass. They complimented her and gave her hugs and kisses. She became the leader of their clique.

It moved me.

It wasn't until I got into 'The Life' that I began living.
 



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