It was a brutal day for Sharon. What started out as a quiet Thursday went completely sideways when news broke of potential scandal involving one of her clients at the marketing agency where she worked. She spent most of the morning and the entire afternoon in emergency meetings, barking orders at her staff and fielding calls from her panicked client. She dictated press releases, scheduled interviews and got her client’s side of the story out as quickly as she knew how. By the time the national news programs had aired on the East coast, Sharon had gotten her client back out in front of the scandal-for now.
Her boss, the senior vice-president of the firm, called her to congratulate her on the quick response to the crisis. “Sharon, I am amazed at how you and your team got on top of this story. You were able to turn the tide for our client... and do it all from out there on the West Coast.”
“Thank you for your compliments on our work today” Sharon replied. “I'll pass your praises on to my team members. There is one thing I have to say, though...”
“Sharon, don't be modest” he insisted, interrupting her. “I could see your hand in everything today. You've once again validated my decision to make you the manager of...” He stopped, then with concern in his voice asked “Is there something wrong, Sharon?”
“I mitigated the damage-for now” Sharon confided. “However, I had Andy do some in-depth background research. What he found is not good.”
“We can deal with that tomorrow” was the reply. “You did exactly what was needed for today. Go home, let it go and get your mind off the stress for tonight.” She heard him hang up.
“Get your mind off the stress.” The words echoed in Sharon's mind as she pulled out of the parking lot for her drive home. All the way home, the words tumbled through her mind until they morphed into “stress relief.” As she turned off the Interstate towards her home, all she could think of was “stress relief.”
Sharon pulled into her driveway and parked her car in the garage. She dug into the pocket of her purse and pulled out a scrunchie, then tied her long blond hair into a tight ponytail high on the back of her head. Sharon walked through the kitchen into the dining room, dropping her purse on the buffet. She then continued into the living room and stopped, standing silently with her head down, her eyes on the floor and her hands clasped behind her back. Sharon stood there and waited.
She heard someone come into the living room. “How was your day...” George started to say, then fell silent. Sharon did not lift her head or greet him. She heard him turn and walk back down the hall. As his footsteps receded, the only sounds she heard were the ticking of the mantlepiece clock and the soft whoosh of the air conditioning.
Sharon more sensed George's return to the living room. She heard him lay some items on the end table by his chair. She could almost feel him as he walked around in front of her. She knew he was looking her over. She kept her eyes down.
“Strip. Everything.” The commands were not barked out, nor were they given matter-of-factly. There was just enough of an edge to make Sharon shiver. She could hear the creak of the leather as he sat down in his chair.
Sharon walked over to the couch silently. She pulled off her shoes and laid them in front of the couch. She then took off her gray jacket, folding it neatly before draping it over the back of the couch. As she removed each successive item of clothing, she attempted to strip off a layer of tension with it. However, the stress clung to her like the spray of a skunk. That made the whole exercise that much more frustrating.
Sharon was down to her nylons and garter belt. As she started rolling her stockings down her legs to remove them, she bent at the waist as she had been trained to do, offering George a clear view of her labia. She could feel his eyes search her nether lips for any sign of moisture, but she knew that river was dammed by the stress of the day.
Naked, Sharon turned around and walked back to the center of the room. She now faced George, still sitting in his chair. She did not raise her head as she clasped her hands behind her back once again. She heard him stand up and once again felt him approach-felt the warmth radiating from his body. “Arms out” he ordered her. Sharon held out her arms and felt a doubled length of rope wrap around her chest tightly, forming the base of a breast harness. He worked at a measured pace, prolonging the sensations of the jute dragging across her skin and biting into her tender flesh.
Completing the harness, George once again moved away from Sharon. She lowered her arms and felt the tightness of the tie. It felt tighter than ever, and she knew why-it was the tension. She returned her arms to their place behind her back. As she did, she sensed his presence again, then felt another rope-this one encircling her waist.
He pulled the waist cinch tight, then proceeded to run the doubled rope down and through her labia. As he parted the lips, he noticed they were still thin and dry. Not even when the pleasure knot hit her clit did Sharon react. George looped the ropes around the back of the waist cinch and brought them back through her legs, running them outside the labia this time. He crossed the ropes before he tied them, to increase the bite of them against her pussy. Still, her juices did not flow.
Sharon tried to push out of her mind all but the sensations she was feeling at the moment-but for each push she gave the stress, it pushed back harder. She was about to try and safeword out in frustration when she sensed him walk up behind her and felt the smooth, supple leather of the armbinder envelop her forearms. Surely this, her favorite restraint, would let her-no, make her release all the stress of the day.
That was not to be, however. As George pulled the armbinder in lace and secured it, Sharon discovered that her tension manifested itself in stiff arms and shoulders that would not yield as normal. George struggled but couldn't even get the restraint snugged as tight as it was the first time he tried it on her. Sharon willed her shoulders to relax-but they resisted. She felt George step back, felt him staring at her. She could sense his momentary perplexity, after which he leaned over and whispered one command in her ear.
“Pay attention to me.”
Sharon's cheeks turned crimson as she realized the meaning behind the command. By trying to work the stress out herself, by feeling the need to prepare herself for what George had planned for her, Sharon was actually clinging to the stress even more-and it was clinging to her just as hard. By paying attention to the stress, she was putting it ahead of her Master. She knew what she needed to do.
Sharon felt his hands on her shoulders pushing her down. She knelt in front of him, concentrating only on his touch, his sound, his smell. Her eyes remained where that had been since she came into the room. She could sense his hands moving to his fly, then heard the soft sound of the zipper being pulled down. His musk filled her senses as he released his cock from its confines.
She opened her mouth as she raised her head. She saw just a glimpse of the shaft as he shoved it between her lips, then all she could see was the navy blue of his trousers. She felt a sharp pain as he grabbed her ponytail to steady her head. The pain shot from her scalp straight to her breasts, where it sparked her nipples into response. They hardened almost immediately and tingled as they would occasionally bump into his thighs.
Somewhere in Sharon's mind, she realized that her lips had been dry but were beginning to moisten as he pumped his cock in and out of her mouth. He went deeper with each stroke, until he hit the back of her throat. She gagged a bit as the head touched the spot, which surprised her as she had practiced so long to overcome the reflex. She concentrated on only that, and on the next stroke, his cock head slid down into her throat with ease.
Sharon started feeling her body react to the sensations engulfing her. The pain of his constant tugging of her ponytail swirled through her being, mixing with a rising sting from her cunt lips as they began to engorge with her arousal. She reveled in the taste of his flesh as he slid his cock over her tongue, the feel of his cock head as it plugged her throat. The only thing she didn't feel was the tension in her shoulders-her arousal and the endorphins it produced did their job of washing the stress away.
Sharon lost track of time-the only things she was aware of were her Master and his cock as it invaded her throat over and over. She became nothing more than his fuck toy-a living onahole for him to use for his own pleasure-but she also felt such love from him. She knew this was her place.
Sharon felt her Master stiffen as he forced his cock down her throat as far as he could and held it there. She felt the throbbing along his shaft as he began to shoot his cum down her throat. Spurt after spurt, he held her head against his crotch. Sharon felt no disappointment-she accepted that it was his choice as to whether she would get any enjoyment from his release. As his orgasm subsided, he drew his cock out of her throat to allow just a taste of his hot, salty cum. Sharon tenderly suckled the tip to draw the last of the semen out, enjoying the brief taste he afforded her. She finally let the tip out with a soft “plop.”
Sharon sat back on her haunches, bliss showing on her face. George lifted her up as she stood on now-shaky legs, then held onto her body as they walked to his chair. He sat down and helped her onto his lap, where she lay with her head on his shoulder for what seemed an eternity. Then Sharon looked up at her Master and as she gazed into his eyes, she finally spoke.
“Thank you, Master.”