A Woman in Control - My good organizer I

My good organizer I
   
I have not been relating this story chronologically, instead aligning my thoughts with the clever joke.

So I need to step back with regard to the importance of a ‘good organizer, neat, attentive about the household, cooking and cleaning with cheer’. I have one.

Jack Dumond I met on one of my first days at Olivier Flavors and Fragrances. A young chemical engineer, not much older than me, he came ‘sniffing’ about the executive suite one day, all males are basically hounds, having heard that a new ‘girl’ had been hired, and I suppose hearing word that she (being me) was somewhat alluring.

With my training in psychology, Jack being clueless as to my background... other then that I could type and make coffee... he was not aware that I was evaluating him more than he me. And of course a male of Jack’s ilk exudes certain... let’s say clues.

“Good morning, Miss Montrove. I am Jack Dumond, from analysis.”

Okay, that prompts my assessment. He uses ‘Miss’. Maybe he knows not my first name, but it’s unlikely he learned my surname without the ‘Desiree’ proceeding it. Such are usually listed together. Perhaps in Jack’s mind, being assistant to the CEO demands a degree of formality. But he’s been with the company for over a year and I have just begun. It’s a good time for him to be assertive in beginning a relationship, while the newcomer is feeling his/her way around. Yet he chooses not to assert... it’s ‘Miss Montrove’.

So I pause in my filing to visually partake. Yes the ‘Miss Montrove’ makes an impression... one of meekness. Is that his intent?

Jack is handsome, but not in a brawny manner, as I am to later demand with the sales team. I look into the eyes. Soft, those of a puppy dog. Jack is shorter than me. Not diminutive, I am 5 foot 8. Still the two inches are meaningful in male female relations. And then there is the physique. As stated, regular workouts have brought a certain feminine vitality. I am not a brute, but certainly not ‘Olive Oil’. Jack is lithe. If there is muscle structure it is well cloaked. His dress shirt is loose and there is no bulge in the slacks where a woman is known to furtively glance for appraisal.

So, years of psychological study in hand, I step into the breech, the opening left by Jack’s truckling introduction of himself. 

“Can you hold these?” handing him a stack of files.

I refrain from adding ‘like a good boy’, not desiring to go ‘over the top’ in asserting myself. Instead I insouciantly return to the file drawer and feign resuming my chore, forcing him to do my bidding. Cruel, but boys like Jack not only expect it... in a way they ask for it.

“Just thought I’d introduce myself. Know a little about the flavor side of the business... so if you have any questions...”

Well, he’s trying. But it’s important for me that he feel a level of futility, plus that he learn I am new but not a pushover.

“Do you have business in the executive suite... Jack did you say?”

“Yes, Jack Dumond. Perhaps coffee some time. You appear busy.”

“And you’re not busy in the analysis department?” my tone stern, assuming the role of the CEO’s plenipotentiary.

‘Idle time in the Analysis Department! We’ll need more restructuring’, the operative word for layoffs. I am fully aware of the perceived consequences of my observation and I know this will imbue a degree of panic.

“Well, I do have to get back,” a sheepish fawning Jack Dumond quickly counters. “These files?”

“On my desk,” I point then follow with the coup de grace, “like a good boy.”

He turns and lugubriously saunters, placing the files on my desk like the puppy he is.

I have him. I wonder if he knows it.

A Woman in Control - My Good Lover(s)

My Good Lover(s)

I take my time in empowering myself, suspicion not to be drawn. Besides, I learn the business, quickly develop the required acumen and truly contribute to the burgeoning coffers at Olivier Flavors and Fragrances.

So by year three, I decide to revamp the sales team and have G. Douglas make the announcement. By now I am well out of the reception area of the executive office suite. I take my own office, equal in size to that of G. Douglas, and some would say with a better view. Curious how one’s digs makes a statement in the business world. I suppose it’s akin to being judged and assessed by the size of one’s mansion in the wealthy suburbs.

Any way, missing from the story is my own satiation. Besides the gratification of controlling G. Douglas, a woman such as me needs physical relief as well. And, though it can be demeaning for a woman like me to be put under the penis, a rising girl executive can attain reasonable penetration without suffering the slightest loss of stature.

It begins with the power to hire. And such is important even outside of addressing a girl’s concupiscence. If I am to ensure my governance at Olivier Flavors and Fragrances I need to have underlings loyal to the cause. My sycophant G. Douglas is only part of the equation.

Thus a new sales team is to be developed... all reporting to me... and all having the attributes I desire.    

Since bulges in the slacks can be deceptive and I do not wish to be overly obvious in assessing critical male attributes, we have the clinic... on retainer. Before making a final hiring decision, all candidates must submit to a physical performed by Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt, the noted sexologist, a professional designation not to be broadcast.

Since the physical includes a sperm sample, extracted under the exacting tutelage of Nurse Benson... and the watchful eyes of Dr. Helmstadt... I know the precise penis size and degree of virility for every candidate. And I also obtain a report... the candidates reaction to performing naked for two fully clothed women is of much interest. There are those who display a certain degree of... let’s politely term it... receptivity.

So whom do I hire?

Needless to say, sales at Olivier Flavors and Fragrance is soon staffed with a bevy of bullstuds, well hung, virile, handsome (don’t need Dr. Helmstadt to evaluate that) a degree of submissiveness that makes them eager to perform and grateful for the opportunity to serve... and sell.

My large office is well furnished. And who but the sales guys knows that the narrow padded leather ottoman in my office is really not to be sat upon. No, it’s where the members of my team report to me... as I ride them.

As stated, reasonable penetration for me will be attained. Failure to properly perform for me results in an appointment with Nurse Benson and Dr. Helmstadt for testosterone treatment. Failure to abide with the appointment means dismissal.

Yet, a girl needs more... like an executive assistant. And revenge can be a sweet thing. I typed and made coffee for a year... it’s time for someone to do that for me. And that someone shall be male... and that someone must be bisexual, polysexual, whatever the term... he’ll do it to anyone, for anyone, any time, any place and under my command.

Demanding yes, but having someone perform at the snap of the fingers is refreshing. It rekindles the psyche.

For this position I need just one, and he must be quite obeisant. So the process is long and I need the input of Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt, offering a myriad of tests, including graphic photographs to be surveyed while the candidate is attached to an inflatable penis cuff to determine sexual response. 

Three make the finals, showing arousal while observing both male and female nudes. No more size needed, I select the one with the smallest appendage and order a chastity device, Nurse Benson to hold the key.

As a result of my efforts, Friday afternoons afford a cornucopia of deviant gratification. It begins with a ‘weekly update’ with G. Douglas. Only it is no longer the ‘boss’ initiating the report. By year four of my employment, I call him and announce the time. I proclaim that I expect him in his office, trousers removed, ash tray centered on his desk, butter ready for my hands.

Thereafter, ‘weekly update’ completed, lusty display of feminine power sparking a need, I have a bullstud salesman waiting in my office, completely naked. I like making them wait like that, disavowing any sense that the encounter is under their auspices.

When finished with G. Douglas, Bob, my bisexual assistant, sees me departing his office and knows to in turn enter my office where a humbled naked bullstud awaits to report. Bob knows I’ll want him erect, so while I pause for coffee, I know Bob kneels and fellates with relish, the salesman, typically somewhat homophobic, cringing as his eight to ten inch manhood is coaxed to full erection. With my timing honed, I enter my office and leisurely imbibe my coffee until I am satisfied that full erection is attained. Then with a snap of my fingers, Bob slinks away and my salesman knows to lie prostrate on the ottoman, pecker reaching for the ceiling as I hike up my skirt, straddle and impale myself.

I am eager and aggressive. And I insist in complete stillness. The pleasure is mine to take not his to offer. So I grind, not caring one iota about male delight, though it comes.

It’s a wordless exchange, all physical. The bullstud is nothing more than an object, a living dildo. I use him, the virile male totally capitulating. One climax, two, sometimes I’ll have him ejaculate within my quim, sometimes I will stand, step away and have him manually finish himself for me. It’s at my caprice. They never know when or where they’ll spend their seed. The lack of control is degrading for them... but refreshing for me.       

Friday evening Bob and I are known to work late. Yes, he’s orally proficient and was initially reluctant. Yes, I learned that cream pie clean ups are an acquired taste.

Bob acquired it. 

Still Bob’s position is not without rewards. Saturdays, he visits Nurse Benson, his keyholder, and she’ll release and have him masturbate for her... on the company health plan. Such generous benefits!

I should mention that my sales team also benefits. I have them regularly checked at the clinic for STDS... typically before they report under me on Fridays.

So it is indeed important that a woman have a man who is a good lover, caring and attentive in bed... but perhaps more than one... and perhaps good atop an ottoman... perhaps good kneeling under a desk... perhaps good wherever she demands gratification.

More on Amazon

See the below note from Pink Flamingo et al

 

More shenanigans from Amazon telling you what you can read. Seems the nerds have taken reading lessons.

 

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We're trying to garner as much support as possible for indie erotica publishers and indie eBook retailers. Amazon is cracking down again on content.. this time looking INSIDE the books. We've posted this in our blog and in our email newsletter... Help us spread the word.

 

 

A Request To Our Faithful Readers...
 

As some of you already know, we have had problems with major retailers banning our books. Pink Flamingo Publications has always strove to publish what our readers want. Some of those books include non-consensual or harder books that may have content that some people deem offensive. The major retailers, such as Amazon, Apple, and Google Books are now taking it upon themselves to determine what you find offensive. Even though our books are pure fiction, if they have non-con or even fantasies of non-consensual acts, they are being kicked off the websites. This is not just affecting Pink Flamingo, but other erotica publishers as well.

We understand that the retailers have made it quite easy on customers to get our books, especially with their 1-click buttons. But when they make our content harder to find, unless you’re a searching guru or they just take our books down, what will our customers or any erotica book lovers do?
Our request is simple. If you want to keep seeing the books that you love, from the authors you want to read, please buy the books directly from the publisher or from Indie Retailers. We have quite a few Indie Retailers that will be happy to help you find the books you want and need.

Our websites:
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www.eroticbooknetwork.comIndie Retailers:
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Please spread the word. It is your right to pick what you want to read and what you find offensive.

 

 

Fiona Thomas, EIC

Pink Flamingo Publications

 

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A Woman in Control - My Good Provider II

My good provider - II

Blackmail is best executed slowly, painlessly and thoughtfully. After all, if the victim decides he’s paying too much, that the blackmailer’s demands are too heavy, that somehow the circumstances and material used as a basis for extortion are not under strict control and may otherwise be divulged, then there comes a likely conclusion of doom on the part of the victim... that he may as well fess up, let the blade fall, let what may happen indeed happen.

That won’t do.

I therefore begin with G. Douglas very slowly. An immediate raise goes without notice. After all, it’s my one year anniversary with the company. Then come some ‘suggestions’ which I have G. Douglas put before the Board of Directors. Since the boss remains in voting control of Olivier Flavors and Fragrances, there come little resistance and questions. The profits are enormous, the money has to go somewhere.

So first I have established the CEO’s bonus account, having the board approve an annual sum of money which G. Douglas will dispense based on his sole judgement as to whom within the company has been most impactful on the bottom line. The recipients must be secret of course... no sense creating ill will amongst fellow workers as to whom is deserving and whom is not.      

Thus, in placing lots of money under G. Douglas’s control, it in fact comes under my control. My cell phone is quite full of photos and growing fuller every week. (Yes, I have him masturbate for my cell phone camera often).

Second, I have G. Douglas recommend to the board that the company compensation package for top executives be augmented. Better healthcare, who can take issue with that? More specifically I have the company retain, for a set annual sum, the services of a noted doctor and her clinic. Not to be disclosed is her specialty... aberrant sexual behavior. Having access to the clinic and expertise empowers me... and the goal is to be empowered.

Third, I outline for G. Douglas the long range plan... for me. Annual raises, annual promotions and in the outline is the position of chief operating officer to be attained in year four. With that I begin drawing up glowing personnel reports for myself, all to be signed by G. Douglas.   

Yes, G. Douglas Olivier becomes quite the provider.

Yet, one cannot be too draconian. Knowing that Mrs. Olivier’s denial is chronic, I must assure that the old boy does not lose all hope. So we begin a ritual, most devious, most decadent, in which G. Douglas summons me into his office on Friday afternoons for the ‘weekly update’.

Such becomes the coded phrase for me to retrieve my cell phone, butter and paper towels and observe and photograph his self pleasure. With his right hand healing, things go a little quicker, but within weeks there needs to be added some spice. Such is the male psyche.

So the ritual evolves. I buy a large glass ashtray for the walnut desk and have him masturbate into it. Though its placement is incongruous, G. Douglas does not smoke and neither is anyone permitted to smoke in the building, no one notices. And I relish inadvertently tapping it while taking notes at important meetings, laughing within as G. Douglas loses his concentration mid sentence, his focus turning to the forthcoming ‘weekly update’ during which I will have him coat the sizable saucer with his seed.

Within a year, cell phone memory chocked full of incriminating deeds, there comes more evolution. It is my hand that offers the sought pleasure... and G. Douglas becomes both surprised and smitten with my touch. I do not mention the many college years of controlling hand jobs. In hindsight I humorously suggest to myself that perhaps I should have listed such skill on my resume. Well, I cede to him his pleasure but since I am in control, it ‘comes’ at my behest, demonstrating that the male organ will only spurt when and where I decide. Such protocol also helps psychologically as my demands continue and G. Douglas knows not to offer a word of resistance or contention, instead reveling in his ‘weekly updates’.

By year three, G. Douglas, randy as a billy goat, begins to get hard at the smell of butter. I insist that be the lubricant. Plus knowing the importance of male prostatic health, the fingers of my left hand join in on the ‘weekly updates’, energetically penetrating his anus while bending over his desk, the glass ashtray awaiting his explosion as my right hand works that aging phallus.      

In time, I purchase a digital camera with a time delayed shutter. Somewhat unwieldy, aligning the lens such that only my anonymous hands are in the frame, but with digital photography such undesired shots of my face can be quickly deleted or cropped from the final snapshot before archiving. 

So, as stated I have my good provider. Though the weekly hand job is condescending, overall it empowers. And in time, the protocol for the weekly updates will change.

A Good Find - 'A Woman in Control'

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