Under Her Thumb - Sex Stories

Under Her Thumb

... that this is not a first for her. I should have know from the rich details she provided me with during the training concerning Ms. Saunders’ service requirements. Ms. Saunders turns to me. ‘Get up and wipe the shit from your face, Peterson. I expect a first draft of the financial proposal for the project on my desk first thing Monday morning. I know it’s a lot but you have all weekend. I’m going to take a shower now and then we must be off.’ I wipe my face with my handkerchief and go straight to the men’s restrooms. Luckily I have the place to myself. I get my toilet utensils from my locker. I wash with water and soap, brush my teeth, rinse and spray myself with plenty of deodorant. When I return, Ms. Pennington is cleaning her desk. As soon as Ms. Saunders emerges from her office, Ms. Pennington grabs her coat and handbag and rushes out after her without a word. All things considered Later that night, alone in my apartment, I sit in front of the TV but I’m not really watching. I have just jerked myself off to two successive climaxes of incredible intensity. I never went limp after the first one and the second one was even more intense. I thought I would never stop ejaculating. Now I’m just staring at the tube. The events of the last two days have affected me to the point of changing my whole outlook on life. Until the day before yesterday, I was quite content with my quiet life. It was lonely, but it had its compensations. I was my own man and didn’t have to answer to ...

... anyone. I could never shake the feeling that there was something important missing in my life, but I drowsed my restlessness with internet porn and the occasional uneventful lay. I was sure I could get by like this. Now I realize just how much I have been fooling myself, and why I can’t go back to that life. I can never be my own man. I’m adrift if left on my own. Unable to give myself direction, I need someone to provide that direction for me. Someone like Ms. Saunders, who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I also realize why I am so attracted to her and why I am aroused by her outbursts and her abuse, both physical and emotional. It is her unbounded power. I feel warm and cozy under her tyranny. I feel needed. Here is a woman who has taken on the burden of breaking out of her traditional role and carving her own path in life. It takes bravery and strength to do that. She may not consciously accept it, but she needs people like Ms. Pennington and myself to lean on when she weakens, to feed her with energy when she tires, to suck dry when she lapses. I long to be part of her, to be absorbed into her cold being, to be sucked into her lonely wanting world and answer to her secret yearning. She does not have to love me, not even like me. She never will. But it is enough that I love her. It fills me to be able to shower her with my unconditional love, to fill her heart’s desire whenever she feels the need for it, whatever the need she feels. Women like Ms. Saunders are ...