Webster knelt beneath the board room table and it seemed to him that it stretched a considerable distance down the room. He wasn't sure how big the corporation was, how large it had grown, but just how big a board could a company need? The point was though, he was here for the duration. Until Madam Tamsin directed him to come out from under the table. There he had duties to perform for the utterly ruthless half Chinese half English thirty year old. Madam Tamsin wasn't bound by the relatively regular arrangements of western business. She was used to working with, well, more corrupt systems, state systems shall we say. You went to some extra lengths to secure the best business deals. He recognised his new mistress's voice immediately she entered the room. Even amongst the hubbub of male voices and banter about the weekend golf, the private jet trip over to Paris, he heard her characteristic Chinese accent. Madam Tamsin was chief exec, head of the board, she was some such title. Anyway, she owned the company or the vast majority of the company and she was bloody rich. Webster moved nearer the head of the table where his mistress would sit. His back ached some of course it did. He had been bent down here for twenty minutes already and the meeting was late. But you waited, you did as you were told.
Today Madam Tamsin was wearing seamed stockings and the tightest and shortest leather skirt that Webster had ever seen on a business woman. The effect was multiplied of course because she relatively petite and perfectly formed. Madam Tamsin was a woman of impeccable good taste and dress sense. A tight little black leather skirt could be a set of balls in the business world. If they drew the lustful, awe struck gaze of a male business associate then he was already beaten. He was already hers. You don't negotiate hard with a woman that you hope to bed or to kneel before. Of course Madam Tamsin hadn't had to tell Webster that, she had shown him. She had showed how she manipulated men to her point of view in a thousand business encounters since he had come to her charge. Now, as the business of the day got under way, and instructions were given about keeping to time, Madam Tamsin's hand slipped beneath the heavy table. He came to it willingly, promptly and nuzzled against its palm. He deftly licked her perfectly manicured fingers, making sure not to leave excess spittle on her skin. His touch was meant to reassure her. You are my mistress, and you are invincible.
The touch beneath the table provided a endless series of codes that Webster had learned by heart. Madam Tamsin required different touch depending on how the meeting was going. Webster was a reinforcement of power, her quiet and absolute authority. Today, things were starting well. Madam Tamsin pointed ever so briefly down to her impeccably polished high heeled court shoes. Webster started to lick down there. He was pretty sure that Madam Tamsin couldn't feel all of that, but the brush of his cheek against her ankles would be ample indication that he was doing as ordered. One of the things that made Madam Tamsin such an absolute and perfect bitch was the equations that she used. It was worth hours of your effort to secure a moment's pleasure for a woman of status. Your whole life could be spent in return for an hour of her satisfaction. That was how small, how insignificant and worthless you really were. So now Webster licked the shoes that he had stayed up into the night polishing and his mistress drew perhaps a touch or two's pleasure from his presence. It was no more than that, no more.
Webster had been given to Madam Tamsin by his wife several years before. Webster was presentable, tall, well spoken, privately educated, but prone to the self doubts of young men raised in families where the mother was the mistress of everything. Webster was pretty sure that it was that which had made him the submissive that he so obviously was. Caroline was already dominating him, having been brought up proud and arrogant, so he was easy to spot for the ruthless Madam Tamsin. Webster did all that his wife said. It had made Madam Tamsin smile. There came the point where Madam had taken over Caroline's father's firm and set about dissembling it. The good bits she would keep and the rest discard. Madam Tamsin soon had charge of Caroline who was on the original ****** board. She reduced the woman to a quivering wreck and then almost a dog's body job in the bigger corporation. Bitches bitch women, as well as men. That was the truth of it. Caroline had then come begging for a more 'deserving' job, one that enabled her to hold her head up amongst the ******. There was a job, a PR job Madam Tamsin had said, but it wasn't something to gift, it had to be negotiated. Anyway, Webster had been surrendered to her. He would go to his new mistress as the sacrifice. ****** honour, there was something still at stake and well, it was Webster who reluctantly had to go.
Today, at the meeting, Caroline was seated beside her boss. There were some PR reports to speak to. Webster recognised her crocodile shoes, the slender line of his wife's ankles. She wore stockings too. That seemed to be an unwritten rule. Webster wondered whether discreet little emails went around the company on female dress code? Did Caroline know that he was secreted beneath the table? Yes, she must do. She must have glanced a felt presence down there. The agenda moved forward and Madam Tamsin's voice was raised triumphantly as she summarised another 'acquisition'. The corporation was expanding. The board politely almost reverently applauded and Webster heard Caroline pouring out her admiration at the deal her leader had done. His wife, well, his wife was becoming the corporate creature. That which she must have despised when the ****** firm was swallowed up she was now applauding along with all the others. She seemed to believe the hype. Madam Tamsin knew best. Madam Tamsin was the founder and the director of efficient and effective business reasoning. It was just like that.
Another touch from his mistress, a tweak to his ear and this meant only one thing. He was to suckle. As if to confirm the requirement Madam Tamsin eased apart her perfectly shaped legs and allowed the hem of her skirt to rise up beneath the heavy board room table. Webster move carefully. This wasn't a seance. There were to be no knocks beneath the table, no lifting even of one end. He moved judging every inch of his positioning. There, now, perfectly managed, his head was between his mistress's thighs, underneath the table and he started to lick. Her sex was quintessentially beautiful, stretched by the occasional businessman or politician that she fucked. It was the perfected part of a perfected woman who knew how to combine charm and power in one dynamic and non nonsense female package. it was such a privilege to serve her, to taste and to tease as lightly and gently as possible her mistress sex. He breathed gently on her quim, knowing, knowing that he had a small and valuable purpose. Because he was her bitch, she wasn't prey to the amorous males. She could take what she would. There was always a pleasure at home. One day she would fall for a man and then he would probably end up on the streets. He would be nothing. But for now, he served.
Madam Tamsin was listening to Caroline start to work her way through the PR report. His wife was seated crossed legged, in a short skirt of her own. Webster could see her stocking tops as he licked his mistress. Webster wondered whether Madam Tamsin was thinking about the pleasure of it, taking him off Caroline and then teaching his wife to be the sort of corporate clone that she wanted. Madam had a sense of humour and she loved power. The sense of humour was dry, cutting even. The report seemed to be going well as there were murmurs of approval around the table. Even Madam Tamsin said some complimentary things. Webster, red faced and hot down there, saw how his wife's legs trembled just a little less. Madam terrified her! He saw how she uncrossed her legs as her report received approval and her job presumably was secure just a little longer. Madam Tamsin nudged him away from her now perfectly moistened sex and directed his attention to Caroline. Webster blinked. Caroline. Caroline! This was off piste as regards his mistress's hand signals beneath the table, but he was clearly being directed to reward the PR executive.
Trembling himself now, Webster slunk lower. He turned to the left. Caroline had her crocodile high heeled court shoe almost off on the right foot. It waved before him as she once again crossed her legs. He kissed her foot and felt her tense in an instant!! Perhaps she didn't know that he was down there? Caroline had enough presence about her though not to gasp or speak. Instead, she slid her hand beneath the table, the cuff bracelet that he had once given her sliding down her wrist. He nuzzled her fingers like he had always done, like he had been taught to do. Between them, before, it was how he had been taught to beg for oral sex. it was what was used to plead to push his head delicately between her thighs and confirm just how well bred and aristocratic she was. Caroline had not forgotten, she turned her hand so that Webster could delicately lick her palm. Her mind must have been racing, racing. First she would realise that Webster was located there, presumably a regular comfort to his mistress and then, then, she would calculate that Webster was now a reward. The PR report had been excellent.
Webster's ear was pulled again, up off the crocodile shoes that he licked so obsequiously and up towards her quim. She quietly uncrossed her legs so that the suspender straps eased and then she opened her crotch to him. There was but one glance below as Webster was brought to station. Unlike his mistress Caroline wore a thong, but it was little hindrance to his duties. Running his nose against her pubes as he had always done before, he pushed his tongue upwards between her incredibly warm and now spasming lips. Caroline had a new boyfriend, a powerful man from one of the government ministries. He must be well hung because his wife was suitably stretched. Webster licked again, conceding in his head that she had always been too good for him too. If he had not been given to Madam Tamsin, then he would have been required to serve the new lover in any case. Madam Tamsin's hand slipped quietly beneath the table and without a glance she checked that Webster was nuzzling where required. It was a power play. Webster was not entirely a gift.
'Caroline will take on the new India project and direct the new acquisition there. I am sure that she understands our systems and ways well enough to do that.' Madam Tamsin's voice resonated down the table and there were more mumbles of approval. But it could be a cup of hemlock. It could be a poison chalice. Fail and Caroline could be summarily dismissed. As Webster felt his mistress's touch, encouraging him to lick ever deeper, he knew that he was being used. Encourage Caroline to be a bitch. Encourage her. If she succeeds, I will reward her again.
'Thank you Madam Tamsin....yes, yes, I would like to lead the portfolio. You think I am ready so...'
'You are ready' Madam Tamsin affirmed. Her hand found Caroline's beneath the table and she was encouraged to dig her fingers into Webster's scalp and pull his face onto her sex. He nearly asphyxiated. Caroline pulled his face against her. He wondered what she thought? Sex and power. Her new man. Winning Webster's mistress's trust and emulating her absolute cruelty.
It was only ten minutes afterwards that the board meeting closed and the members trooped out. They all trooped out save for Caroline and Webster's mistress. He was still lapping between Caroline's legs, assuming the requirement because neither woman had pushed him away. The women were talking.
'How is it with Ralph?' Madam Tamsin asked. Ralph, yes, Ralph, the junior government minister.
'Very very good madam' Caroline returned.
'Tamsin, please.....please, Tamsin!' came the cheery response.
'You enjoy being with him?'
'It's very good, almost perfect Tamsin' Webster's wife answered.
'Excellent!' said Madam Tamsin, 'business, pleasure, pleasure, business. I think that he has an interest in Delhi doesn't he?'
'Yes, I think so, foreign development, that is part of his brief'
'Perhaps we can secure a mutual benefit?' wondered Madam Tamsin.
There was a pause. Caroline knew then. She knew. This all had a purpose.
'I was thinking of marrying Ralph, divorcing Webster' Caroline almost whispered the words. It was a terrible way for Webster to learn but Caroline stroked his hair and encouraged the continuing devotion.
'That's fine, that is perfectly fine!' opined Madam Tamsin. She glanced at Webster beneath the table. There was no dissent expected. That would have been unthinkable. 'How ruthless do you think you can be Caroline?'
Webster nuzzled on. With huge difficulty he nuzzled on.
'The corporation comes first' said Caroline firmly.
'I thought so too!' smiled Madam Tamsin. She looked down and in doing so directed Caroline's gaze there as well.
'Would you like to take Webster to Delhi, just as a support, because Ralph is back here doing government things?'
Caroline looked down at Webster. She hardly knew what to say.
'He will be very good and very humble Caroline. He is there to serve.' Madam Tamsin smiled serenely.
'Yes, then yes!' Caroline answered.
'And you'll keep me appraised of your target companies out there....and about what Ralph thinks about things?'
'Of course' said Caroline and Webster was pushed away.
'Take him with you now dear,' said Madam Tamsin, 'if you visit the wash rooms, Webster knows how to rest his head in the bidet very nicely indeed.'
[Lutheran Maid's new collection of short stories, 'Another kind of Bitch' is published through Amazon as a electronic down load.] Astonished that you can write a whole story about a man beneath a table, ah the power of imagination!
Today Madam Tamsin was wearing seamed stockings and the tightest and shortest leather skirt that Webster had ever seen on a business woman. The effect was multiplied of course because she relatively petite and perfectly formed. Madam Tamsin was a woman of impeccable good taste and dress sense. A tight little black leather skirt could be a set of balls in the business world. If they drew the lustful, awe struck gaze of a male business associate then he was already beaten. He was already hers. You don't negotiate hard with a woman that you hope to bed or to kneel before. Of course Madam Tamsin hadn't had to tell Webster that, she had shown him. She had showed how she manipulated men to her point of view in a thousand business encounters since he had come to her charge. Now, as the business of the day got under way, and instructions were given about keeping to time, Madam Tamsin's hand slipped beneath the heavy table. He came to it willingly, promptly and nuzzled against its palm. He deftly licked her perfectly manicured fingers, making sure not to leave excess spittle on her skin. His touch was meant to reassure her. You are my mistress, and you are invincible.
The touch beneath the table provided a endless series of codes that Webster had learned by heart. Madam Tamsin required different touch depending on how the meeting was going. Webster was a reinforcement of power, her quiet and absolute authority. Today, things were starting well. Madam Tamsin pointed ever so briefly down to her impeccably polished high heeled court shoes. Webster started to lick down there. He was pretty sure that Madam Tamsin couldn't feel all of that, but the brush of his cheek against her ankles would be ample indication that he was doing as ordered. One of the things that made Madam Tamsin such an absolute and perfect bitch was the equations that she used. It was worth hours of your effort to secure a moment's pleasure for a woman of status. Your whole life could be spent in return for an hour of her satisfaction. That was how small, how insignificant and worthless you really were. So now Webster licked the shoes that he had stayed up into the night polishing and his mistress drew perhaps a touch or two's pleasure from his presence. It was no more than that, no more.
Webster had been given to Madam Tamsin by his wife several years before. Webster was presentable, tall, well spoken, privately educated, but prone to the self doubts of young men raised in families where the mother was the mistress of everything. Webster was pretty sure that it was that which had made him the submissive that he so obviously was. Caroline was already dominating him, having been brought up proud and arrogant, so he was easy to spot for the ruthless Madam Tamsin. Webster did all that his wife said. It had made Madam Tamsin smile. There came the point where Madam had taken over Caroline's father's firm and set about dissembling it. The good bits she would keep and the rest discard. Madam Tamsin soon had charge of Caroline who was on the original ****** board. She reduced the woman to a quivering wreck and then almost a dog's body job in the bigger corporation. Bitches bitch women, as well as men. That was the truth of it. Caroline had then come begging for a more 'deserving' job, one that enabled her to hold her head up amongst the ******. There was a job, a PR job Madam Tamsin had said, but it wasn't something to gift, it had to be negotiated. Anyway, Webster had been surrendered to her. He would go to his new mistress as the sacrifice. ****** honour, there was something still at stake and well, it was Webster who reluctantly had to go.
Today, at the meeting, Caroline was seated beside her boss. There were some PR reports to speak to. Webster recognised her crocodile shoes, the slender line of his wife's ankles. She wore stockings too. That seemed to be an unwritten rule. Webster wondered whether discreet little emails went around the company on female dress code? Did Caroline know that he was secreted beneath the table? Yes, she must do. She must have glanced a felt presence down there. The agenda moved forward and Madam Tamsin's voice was raised triumphantly as she summarised another 'acquisition'. The corporation was expanding. The board politely almost reverently applauded and Webster heard Caroline pouring out her admiration at the deal her leader had done. His wife, well, his wife was becoming the corporate creature. That which she must have despised when the ****** firm was swallowed up she was now applauding along with all the others. She seemed to believe the hype. Madam Tamsin knew best. Madam Tamsin was the founder and the director of efficient and effective business reasoning. It was just like that.
Another touch from his mistress, a tweak to his ear and this meant only one thing. He was to suckle. As if to confirm the requirement Madam Tamsin eased apart her perfectly shaped legs and allowed the hem of her skirt to rise up beneath the heavy board room table. Webster move carefully. This wasn't a seance. There were to be no knocks beneath the table, no lifting even of one end. He moved judging every inch of his positioning. There, now, perfectly managed, his head was between his mistress's thighs, underneath the table and he started to lick. Her sex was quintessentially beautiful, stretched by the occasional businessman or politician that she fucked. It was the perfected part of a perfected woman who knew how to combine charm and power in one dynamic and non nonsense female package. it was such a privilege to serve her, to taste and to tease as lightly and gently as possible her mistress sex. He breathed gently on her quim, knowing, knowing that he had a small and valuable purpose. Because he was her bitch, she wasn't prey to the amorous males. She could take what she would. There was always a pleasure at home. One day she would fall for a man and then he would probably end up on the streets. He would be nothing. But for now, he served.
Madam Tamsin was listening to Caroline start to work her way through the PR report. His wife was seated crossed legged, in a short skirt of her own. Webster could see her stocking tops as he licked his mistress. Webster wondered whether Madam Tamsin was thinking about the pleasure of it, taking him off Caroline and then teaching his wife to be the sort of corporate clone that she wanted. Madam had a sense of humour and she loved power. The sense of humour was dry, cutting even. The report seemed to be going well as there were murmurs of approval around the table. Even Madam Tamsin said some complimentary things. Webster, red faced and hot down there, saw how his wife's legs trembled just a little less. Madam terrified her! He saw how she uncrossed her legs as her report received approval and her job presumably was secure just a little longer. Madam Tamsin nudged him away from her now perfectly moistened sex and directed his attention to Caroline. Webster blinked. Caroline. Caroline! This was off piste as regards his mistress's hand signals beneath the table, but he was clearly being directed to reward the PR executive.
Trembling himself now, Webster slunk lower. He turned to the left. Caroline had her crocodile high heeled court shoe almost off on the right foot. It waved before him as she once again crossed her legs. He kissed her foot and felt her tense in an instant!! Perhaps she didn't know that he was down there? Caroline had enough presence about her though not to gasp or speak. Instead, she slid her hand beneath the table, the cuff bracelet that he had once given her sliding down her wrist. He nuzzled her fingers like he had always done, like he had been taught to do. Between them, before, it was how he had been taught to beg for oral sex. it was what was used to plead to push his head delicately between her thighs and confirm just how well bred and aristocratic she was. Caroline had not forgotten, she turned her hand so that Webster could delicately lick her palm. Her mind must have been racing, racing. First she would realise that Webster was located there, presumably a regular comfort to his mistress and then, then, she would calculate that Webster was now a reward. The PR report had been excellent.
Webster's ear was pulled again, up off the crocodile shoes that he licked so obsequiously and up towards her quim. She quietly uncrossed her legs so that the suspender straps eased and then she opened her crotch to him. There was but one glance below as Webster was brought to station. Unlike his mistress Caroline wore a thong, but it was little hindrance to his duties. Running his nose against her pubes as he had always done before, he pushed his tongue upwards between her incredibly warm and now spasming lips. Caroline had a new boyfriend, a powerful man from one of the government ministries. He must be well hung because his wife was suitably stretched. Webster licked again, conceding in his head that she had always been too good for him too. If he had not been given to Madam Tamsin, then he would have been required to serve the new lover in any case. Madam Tamsin's hand slipped quietly beneath the table and without a glance she checked that Webster was nuzzling where required. It was a power play. Webster was not entirely a gift.
'Caroline will take on the new India project and direct the new acquisition there. I am sure that she understands our systems and ways well enough to do that.' Madam Tamsin's voice resonated down the table and there were more mumbles of approval. But it could be a cup of hemlock. It could be a poison chalice. Fail and Caroline could be summarily dismissed. As Webster felt his mistress's touch, encouraging him to lick ever deeper, he knew that he was being used. Encourage Caroline to be a bitch. Encourage her. If she succeeds, I will reward her again.
'Thank you Madam Tamsin....yes, yes, I would like to lead the portfolio. You think I am ready so...'
'You are ready' Madam Tamsin affirmed. Her hand found Caroline's beneath the table and she was encouraged to dig her fingers into Webster's scalp and pull his face onto her sex. He nearly asphyxiated. Caroline pulled his face against her. He wondered what she thought? Sex and power. Her new man. Winning Webster's mistress's trust and emulating her absolute cruelty.
It was only ten minutes afterwards that the board meeting closed and the members trooped out. They all trooped out save for Caroline and Webster's mistress. He was still lapping between Caroline's legs, assuming the requirement because neither woman had pushed him away. The women were talking.
'How is it with Ralph?' Madam Tamsin asked. Ralph, yes, Ralph, the junior government minister.
'Very very good madam' Caroline returned.
'Tamsin, please.....please, Tamsin!' came the cheery response.
'You enjoy being with him?'
'It's very good, almost perfect Tamsin' Webster's wife answered.
'Excellent!' said Madam Tamsin, 'business, pleasure, pleasure, business. I think that he has an interest in Delhi doesn't he?'
'Yes, I think so, foreign development, that is part of his brief'
'Perhaps we can secure a mutual benefit?' wondered Madam Tamsin.
There was a pause. Caroline knew then. She knew. This all had a purpose.
'I was thinking of marrying Ralph, divorcing Webster' Caroline almost whispered the words. It was a terrible way for Webster to learn but Caroline stroked his hair and encouraged the continuing devotion.
'That's fine, that is perfectly fine!' opined Madam Tamsin. She glanced at Webster beneath the table. There was no dissent expected. That would have been unthinkable. 'How ruthless do you think you can be Caroline?'
Webster nuzzled on. With huge difficulty he nuzzled on.
'The corporation comes first' said Caroline firmly.
'I thought so too!' smiled Madam Tamsin. She looked down and in doing so directed Caroline's gaze there as well.
'Would you like to take Webster to Delhi, just as a support, because Ralph is back here doing government things?'
Caroline looked down at Webster. She hardly knew what to say.
'He will be very good and very humble Caroline. He is there to serve.' Madam Tamsin smiled serenely.
'Yes, then yes!' Caroline answered.
'And you'll keep me appraised of your target companies out there....and about what Ralph thinks about things?'
'Of course' said Caroline and Webster was pushed away.
'Take him with you now dear,' said Madam Tamsin, 'if you visit the wash rooms, Webster knows how to rest his head in the bidet very nicely indeed.'
[Lutheran Maid's new collection of short stories, 'Another kind of Bitch' is published through Amazon as a electronic down load.] Astonished that you can write a whole story about a man beneath a table, ah the power of imagination!
