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.