Summary:
Sarah confronts her boss after catching him in a compromising position at the office. She asserts dominance, slaps him, renames him Piggy, and demands a promotion to executive vice president with a tenfold salary increase, remote work, a company car, and unlimited expense privileges. Using a video recording as leverage, she stuffs her panties in his mouth and makes him carry her belongings. She takes his BMW, leaving him his old Ford Escort. Driving home, she leaves a mysterious latex box for her husband, indulges in self-pleasure in the car, then returns home in dominatrix attire. She scares off evangelicals, finds her husband in fetish gear, and they share an intense encounter that deepens their bond.
Here is your Story: I Spanked My Boss into Submission Then Took His Car
The heels of my Jimmy Choos sank silently into the cheap office carpet. There it was, the most shocking thing about today. My boss had done exactly what I told him. He bent over the desk, reeking of body odor and all the fun he’d had last night. The second most shocking thing pointed at the ceiling.
He had taken his pants down. His bare ass stuck outward with a bejeweled butt plug sparkling from it. That sight almost killed the woman I’d just liberated. He nearly sent me running. The shock turned from secondhand embarrassment to righteous anger. “Pull your pants up and turn around now,” I commanded.
A similar version is available at the French version for French readers.
He complied as he turned to face me. He exclaimed nervously, “I’m sorry, Sarah…” My designer heels dug into the carpeting. My open hand smacked hard across his face. “You will not make eye contact with me. You will not address me. And you will sure as fuck keep my name out of your useless mouth unless I say otherwise.”
Visibly shaken, he simply replied, “Damn, Sarah…” I smacked him again in the same spot, even harder. He doubled over onto the desk behind him. The sting in my hand felt good. This was a game for me. “You are now called Piggy,” I said. His sense of entitlement was gone. He no longer had a title or a name to me.
Still in shock, Piggy looked down at the carpeting in front of where I stood. He nodded and whispered, “Yes.” I explained our new relationship. “First off, you’re promoting me. I’m now an executive vice president. You are going to add a zero to the end of my yearly income, with room for promotion in the future.
My new position works remotely. I come to the office only if I consider it necessary. You will provide me with a company car of my choice. And the credit card I have for business expenses is now mine to use as I please.” He nodded yes again as sweat built up around his brow. In a nebbish tone, Piggy asked, “Why should I?”
Rather than striking him a third time, I walked over to retrieve my phone from its perch without a word. I stopped the recording and showed him video of himself pulling his pants down, playing with himself to completion, and pulling his pants down again. My moaning played in the background of the movie we made together.
I stopped the playback just as I walked into frame. “Bad Piggy,” I said. “Who knows what would happen if this was shown to the right person.” Piggy’s face went ivory white at the sight of his own shame. His mouth hung open as he stared at me. “Don’t worry, Piggy. It’s not so bad.
I do have a parting gift for you to remember me by.” I took my dirty panties and balled them up into Piggy’s still gaping mouth. I could not tell if it was sweat or a tear running down the side of his face as I did. Piggy closed his jaw around my dirty laundry as much as he could.
He took a deep breath through his nose. Now I commanded him, “Go into the bathroom and fetch my things. You’ll find them stacked on the sink.” He looked on and complained without words. His face was flush, and his steps were awkward. He came out of the bathroom holding my boxes in front of his hips to hide his pathetic arousal.
“Now follow,” I said. I felt Piggy’s eyes on me as he followed behind. I sauntered out of his office to my desk, exaggerating the movement of my hips from side to side. I teased Piggy with each step. I pulled at the back of my old office chair and tossed my raincoat dramatically in the air.
I slipped a hand deftly through a sleeve just as the coat landed around my other shoulder. I pulled my bag from beside the desk. Then I placed it on top of the boxes Piggy was holding. It was as if his will to live was sweating from his body. We walked over to the elevator. I commanded, “Push the button.”
His perspiration matched the precipitation tapping against the windows. I got into the elevator as I directed Piggy to take the stairs. I only waited in the lobby for thirty seconds when Piggy appeared from the stairwell. He must have run down the steps; he was visibly winded. His mouth was still full of the old me.
He breathed hard through his nose. I walked him out into the rainy parking lot, over to the BMW he had parked in a handicapped space and abandoned yesterday. “Open the trunk,” I said. He fumbled for his key fob while balancing my things in a comical way. He pressed a button, and the trunk sprang open.
I walked him over to the trunk and told him, “Gently place my property inside.” He did as I said. “Now, Piggy, wait for me by the driver side door.” I fetched my bag and sauntered up to Piggy. I felt like I walked between the raindrops. He stood there soaked, his crying lost to the rain.
“The key,” I said, holding out my hand and waiting. He reluctantly placed the key fob in my hand. He mumbled through his full mouth, “But my car.” “Don’t worry, Piggy. I wouldn’t strand you here.” As I said that, I produced the keys to Piggy’s 1992 Ford Escort. “Hope you can drive a stick shift,” I said as I slipped into the driver’s seat of my new ride.
The BMW sprang to life with the push of a button. The exhaust roared from its slumber. The windshield wipers sped to life as I lowered the tinted driver side window. “Now go back inside and finish your workday. You may leave the building when I tell you.” He stood there still reeling from what had just happened.
His reflection shrank in the rearview mirror as I coasted away. It was a busy day for the new me, and it was not even noon yet.
The Drive Home
I drove home in luxury, surrounded by esoteric buttons and knobs I had yet to understand. The heated leather seat gently warmed the latex I wore. The smell of rubber comforted me. Excited for the first time in a long time, I watched the sky part and the November rain begin to slow.
One last roll of thunder struck in the long distance. A polished gloved hand gripped the steering wheel. The other hand slowly stroked up a glossy black thigh. Another idea came to mind. The rain had finally stopped as I parked at the front door of our apartment complex. I searched around inside the sedan and produced a red pen from the glovebox.
I stepped out of the car. My heels clicked loudly on the pavement. I tossed off my raincoat and left it on the passenger seat. I opened the trunk and tossed my open box onto my raincoat. I produced the unopened black box from the trunk, writing our apartment number in red pen over the word “His.”
On the back of the card, I wrote the word “Enjoy.” My heels clicked quickly as I walked up to the front door and hit the buzzer for 338. Guilty of the kinkiest ding-dong ditch ever, I sprinted back into the BMW and backed into my assigned parking spot next to my husband’s Grand Marquis.
He walked out the door and grabbed the box while looking around. He locked onto the blacked-out BMW parked next to his car for a brief second. I felt seen, but the limousine-tinted windows blocked his view. I locked eyes on him, still hungry for him this morning. He turned to see people working outside on the building across from ours.
No doubt propelled by social anxiety, he quickly darted back into the building. His curiosity would get the better of him. I wondered what was in his box and looked forward to finding out soon. But first, I had housekeeping items to deal with. Playing with all the switches and features in the BMW was a fun distraction.
My phone synced to the radio with a satisfying beep-boop sound. I made a quick call to our building manager, informing them about the new car that would occupy our assigned parking spot to avoid getting it towed. I then informed the manager that my husband and I would not be renewing our lease.
Our lifestyle was set to change dramatically starting today. I dropped the sun visor. With the flick of a switch, it illuminated the mirror inside. The dominatrix’s reflection was comforting, but it needed to match the rest of her. I pulled an eyeshadow palette out of my bag and brushed a subtle layer of blue on her eyelids.
I complemented it with a shade of my favorite dark red lipstick. I blew her a kiss, and she smiled back. I was ready for the final puzzle piece. The reflection stretched the black latex devil mask over short, cropped hair. Its eye and mouth holes highlighted alluring facial features.
I temporarily released the collar, only to fasten it again on top of the latex that hugged my neck. I locked on the mask that cloaked my identity. The little devil horns poked up proudly, shining from the top of the forehead. Icy eyes wandered down my body. I had become the devil herself.
I was hot as hell. My body heat was overwhelming. The windows began to fog inside the car. I leaned the seat all the way back. It gently massaged me with the press of a button. My hands ran down the side of my shiny new face, fine-tuning its position. I gently touched the exposed soft skin around deep crimson lips.
I let out a gentle sigh into the ambling appendage. As I gripped my chest with both hands, my breasts heaved with nipples protruding. My breath grew heavier as I teased. The black-tinted windows diffused the light outside through a now thick layer of fog. My heels dug deep into the carpeted floor mats as I deftly unzipped the leggings front to back.
The car was now a hot box of scents. The leather seats and the latex covering me drew out a sheen of sweat and pure sexual desire. I reached into the open box and gripped the virgin riding crop. My left hand spread the lips of my genitalia. The right rubbed the smooth tip of the whip into my clitoris.
A loud sigh involuntarily escaped. I tapped my clit gently and let out a short sharp moan with each impact. As the intensity increased, a small orgasm broke out of me. The leather tip of the riding crop was slick with me. I flipped it around in my hand and greedily plunged the handle of the riding crop into myself.
Moisture soaked into the leather-wrapped handle. I robbed the lash of its virginity. I watched myself, now a horned succubus fucking itself in public. A thin layer of precipitation and tinted glass was all that stopped people walking by from seeing my carnal act of self-love. My exhibitionist performance temporarily drew the attention of barely visible figures going about their business.
I wanted them to see. I increased the intensity of my masturbation to match the vibration of the driver’s seat. I sent myself past the deep end. I screamed in wanton lust at the thought of strangers watching. The next climax was so hard I spattered onto the bottom of the steering wheel and into the driver’s seat.
The orgasm instantly anesthetized me. Everything went black. An hour passed. Smoky eyelids tenderly welcomed the remaining November sunlight. It was now mid to late afternoon. My second skin creaked as I stretched awake. I zipped up my pants and took one last deep breath in my car.
I tilted the rearview mirror and adjusted the dominatrix’s blouse and mask one last time. My metamorphosis into her felt complete. I had made myself all that I wanted today. I rose from the luxury German chrysalis to greet my old life. Bag on my shoulder with riding crop in hand.
Standing tall, the Jimmy Choos lifted me three inches, but I felt fifty feet tall.
Confronting the New World
As I approached my building, I saw a pair of evangelicals at the apartment complex’s front door. They buzzed every apartment, no doubt in the hopes that they would find someone to convert. The clicking of heels and my demonic horned shadow alerted them to the presence behind them.
They launched into a speech while turning to meet me. “Do you have a moment to talk about your immortal soul…” The last word drifted on long as they noticed the devil standing before them. They froze, transfixed by the look of fallen angel before them. I reached out with my riding crop.
Its sullied tip poked into the chest of the missionary who had the nerve to address me. I said, “I’m not interested in saving my soul, but maybe I could devour both of yours instead.” I bit the air in front of them, and my teeth let out a loud clack. My lips parted into a demonic grin as I giggled.
They yelped in unison, launched backwards, then fell onto the closed door behind them. They quickly scattered away in opposite directions. I sauntered through the five doors and up the two staircases to find our front door unlocked and partially open. I married well. Our living room was as silent as it was spotless.
My doting husband had cleaned and organized it from top to bottom. I removed my work shirt and tossed it on the couch with playful defiance. Softly, I closed and locked the deadbolt behind me. The familiar sound of latex creaked from behind our closed bedroom door. I approached silently, struggling to hold my curiosity.
I turned the knob of our bedroom door and peeked inside. A feral creature clad in latex and fishnets lay in our bed. Shining black legs stretched outward with a familiar cock extended deliciously outward. A gloved right hand ran up and down its length, strong and sensuous, accentuating every inch of it.
He had always been big, but seeing him this way stirred me beyond seduction. The smooth leather tip of the riding crop met my lips. I licked the end while watching him from the sliver in the doorway. The fingers of his left hand covered his mouth. He struggled to stay silent as the intensity built.
This slut extended his tongue to lick what had muted him. The saliva-soaked left hand traded places with the right. Pre-cum slowly spilled from his cock and mixed with spit. No longer fighting, it stroked even faster. Spying still, I bit down hard on the leather tip of my whip to mute my moaning when I began rubbing my aching clit.
His gorgeous cock glistened. He grabbed at a leash and pulled himself up by a spiked collar around his neck. His lean upper body clad in fishnets and leather looked divine. His shoulders hovered over the bed as his abdomen flexed. Arms tense and curved, promising a strength I lusted after.
Exposed eyes rolled to the back of his glossy masked face. Tongue stretched out, desperate for connection. The door pushed open to make contact. In that moment, a loud low moan shot out from a lust-crazed animal. The cum shot was enormous and splashed against his masked face onto plump exposed lips.
Sitting up, he investigated me standing in the doorway. He wiped the cum with a latex-covered hand. Fingers coated with semen, he greedily licked them clean, never breaking eye contact. He held out his leash and said, “Deal with this.” “With pleasure,” I responded. I tossed the riding crop beside him in our bed.
I took his leash in hand. A quick step back was all it took to brace my strong legs. I pulled at the chain, and he stood up. Standing, he towered a full foot over me. His cock pulsed proudly at the sight of me. Semen dripped from the tip. I pulled downward. The leash forced him to his knees.
I asked him to open his mouth. He responded, “Yes, kitty.” A sliver of the man I love peeked through the monstrous slut kneeling before me. The man I married and this depraved creature stood starkly juxtaposed, but both welcomed my attention. We locked eyes. He rested gloved hands on my hips.
I bent down slightly to meet him. I licked cum off the side of his latex-clad face. I spat into his hungry mouth. He looked straight through me and swallowed without hesitation. He said, “I love you.” His true self revealed to me. I gave up control. I started kissing him deeply, grasping at the sides of his face.
Red lipstick smeared between us as our bodies writhed together. He reached out. One hand held firm at the curve of my corseted back. The other touched lightly at my concealed cheek. He turned to kiss up my bare shoulder just underneath my spiked collar. Instinctively, I pulled his leash, and he hugged me warmly.
I hugged him back. In that moment, the embrace was all we needed. The smell was comforting.
We melted into each other fully then, shedding the masks and gear piece by piece until it was just us, raw, real, and intertwined on the bed we’d shared for years. The power games of the day dissolved into tender whispers and shared laughter about the wild ride we’d both taken. His arms wrapped around me like they always had, strong and sure, while I traced the familiar lines of his face.
No more hiding, no more roles; we’d unlocked something deeper, a bond forged in trust and fire. As the November light faded outside, we lay there spent and content, ready for whatever came next in our transformed world. This was our victory, sealed in sweat and love.
