In this series in the chapter Ms. Reese Comes Into Her Own an encounter is described where a Ms. Hansen is introduced to Michael, Ms. Reese’s personal assistant. This brief but eye-opening encounter for Ms. Hansen evolved into an entire side story between her and Michael that not only unleashed long held yet suppressed femdom cravings in her, it served to expand and deepen Ms. Reese’s femdom activities and practices in general and with Michael.

Before continuing with the storyline about Ms. Reese and her relationship with Michael and others, it is illustrative to first explore this experience between Ms. Hansen and Michael to better understand Michael’s coincidental deepening immersion in the femdom world, and Ms. Reese’s evolving relationship with Michael and her femdom lifestyle practices as well as Ms. Hansen’s coming out.

Ms. Hansen is a senior executive in a large and prestigious firm that facilitates mergers and acquisitions. In her mid-forties and a spitting image of a young Cloris Leachman, she is a rising star in the firm and depended on to manage the more complex and difficult deals the firm facilitates. She possessed a number of attributes that augmented her high intelligence to make her successful in the business world and would serve her well in her interaction with Michael.

One was her uncanny ability through perception and assessing the body language and facial expressions of the person or people she is dealing with to anticipate what they are thinking and how they are likely to react. Her fellow executives liked to say she is almost clairvoyant and compared her to Counselor Troi of the Star Trek series.

She also had the ability to completely focus. She could accomplish the same amount of work in half the time as others and her product would be much more insightful.

Finally, she exuded strength and confidence that always seemed to put others on the back foot. And she always tried to be the most aggressive party when dealing with others.

Ms. Hansen could not get out of her head what she witnessed during that first encounter with Michael in Ms. Reese’s office or what Ms. Reese told her regarding her activities with Michael and his situation in the office. Ms. Hansen fantasized about what Ms. Reese was doing with Michael and imagined things she would like to do to him. She would get very turned on and occasionally would pleasure herself when these thoughts surfaced in her consciousness.

Ms. Hansen yearned to fulfill her fantasies and determined Michael could be a convenient prey for her. After much thought she decided to go for it, and concocted a plan to make it happen. By happy coincidence Ms. Reese called her a couple of weeks after the encounter to see if she had thought anymore about the business arrangement they had discussed and to see if there was any additional information she needed to assist in making a decision.

Ms. Hansen said a final decision had not been made and she mentioned the CEO of the company said he would rely on her to make the final decision on whether to proceed. Relaying that information was a clever and fitting lead in for what Ms. Hansen next brought up.

Ms. Hansen then went on to say she had a proposition for Ms Reese. Ms. Reese said she was listening. Ms. Hansen explained that she had just been asked to fly to the east coast next week to mediate negotiations for a potential merger between two client firms. She needed an assistant for the trip, her assistant just gave birth and was out on maternity leave. She asked if Ms. Reese would lend her Michael to fill in and accompany her.

Ms. Reese realized immediately this could potentially assist in sealing the business deal with Ms. Hansen so she certainly was amenable to the request. She also wondered if given the experience in her office and knowing Ms. Hansen was a flaming feminist, could she have another motive, a darker more personal one.

When Ms. Reese questioned whether Michael had the knowledge and experience needed, Ms. Hansen quickly reassured her saying she only needed someone who can organize files and retrieve them quickly during the negotiations. She went on to say she would prepare the individual to be able to do that.

Ms. Reese came back saying well in that case she certainly would be agreeable to lending Michael out to her.

Ms. Hansen was thrilled. Likewise, Ms. Reese saw the possibility of landing the biggest contract in her firm’s short history. Ms. Hansen ended the conversation saying she would have someone call back later that afternoon with details for Michael.

Ms. Reese immediately texted Michael and asked him to come to her office. She explained she had a very, very important assignment for him. She refreshed his memory about meeting Ms Hansen, and explained the proposal she made. Ms. Reese emphasized the value to the firm if Ms. Hansen brought her business to them. She also said he would gain valuable experience working for Ms. Hansen and observing her. She concluded by saying if all went well there would be a very nice bonus for him due to his contributions in landing the account.

He seemed cautiously excited, He asked what he would be doing. Ms. Reese mentioned the files but said Ms. Hansen would prepare him for what he needed to know and do.

And so it was arranged.

Michael and Ms. Hansen met up at the airport. From the start she was cordial yet deliberately remained slightly distant almost aloof so he knew in no uncertain terms who was in charge. He certainly was impressed finding out they were flying first class. And prior to the flight they relaxed in an executive lounge.

During the flight Ms. Hansen gave him an overview of what to expect and to give him a run down of what he would be doing. She went into some detail explaining what specific tasks she wanted him to take on and also her expectations. He felt a little overwhelmed but tried hard to understand what she was telling him. He remained enthusiastic.

Ms. Hansen used this time to also size up the young man, identify what motivated him, his vulnerabilities and what he was thinking. She was impressed at how well dressed he was and it appeared he took pride in his appearance. Determining what made him tick gleaned from their conversation was useful for the extracurricular activities she had planned with Michael during the trip. She was very eager to get to their destination and to get started.

As she sat back, she thought about her own desires. She certainly became especially sexually aroused at the thought of owning a man’s ass. There seemed to be a special humiliation in that for the male and domination over him for the female. But she also felt activities focused on the genitals seemed to elevate the submission aspects of domination. What Ms. Hansen was sure of was that over the next few days she was going to do all she could to bring her long held fantasies to reality.

At one point after a break for refreshments Ms. Hansen leaned closer to Michael to ensure other passengers could not hear even though that was highly unlikely due to the ambient noise and the nature of the seating in first class and said, “Michael I wanted to talk to you about another item. You remember the circumstances of our first meeting. I wanted to understand your arrangement with Ms. Reese.”

He looked confused and responded, “What do you mean Ms. Hansen?’

“C’mon Michael, you know exactly what I mean,” she shot back.

“Oh, that,” he replied, “Ms. Hansen do we have to talk about that? It's just something that happens.”

“How do you feel about it, Michael?" she pried.

He struggled to express himself, “I don’t know, well you see. So you see it has been hard for me to find steady work and to make money because I find it difficult to focus and stay at a job for long. Ms. Reese has helped me improve my work ethic and become more dependable. What she does, the you know what, is for my own good. I deserve what I get. It has really helped me be a better worker and person and not to make silly mistakes. It was very humiliating and demeaning to be spanked by her in the beginning but I’ve kinda got used to it. And I know she is doing it for my benefit.

As she listened she thought to herself very, very interesting. She also felt a little envious of the situation Ms. Reese had created for herself with Michael. She had this young man completely under her control.

Ms. Hansen in an effort to soften Michael up for what she had planned for him indicated, “Well Michael if this little excursion works out well and you successfully follow directions and cooperate, I can assure you there will be a handsome thank you in the offering.” Based on his expression she was confident the comment had the intended effect.

A car was waiting to pick them up from the airport and after a short drive they were dropped off at the hotel. It was an upscale boutique hotel that Michael soon learned Ms. Hansen stayed at frequently and was well known to the staff. They were escorted via a private elevator to the executive penthouse suite. The suite was extravagant. Rich looking furniture and smart appointments. The place was expansive with two bedrooms, a living space and a well equipped office. Michael was awestruck to say the least. He had never been in such luxury.

His room was all muted grays and cream, the kind of expensive neutrality that felt like it had been staged for a magazine shoot. He unpacked mechanically, folding his shirts into the dresser like his life depended on creases.

After they were settled in, Ms. Hansen contacted him on the intercom and told him to come into the office part of the suite in five minutes. When he entered she was already hard at work. Her reading glasses caught the light as she tilted her head, studying him like a specimen under glass. She had him sit and went through a set of ground rules he was to follow. She explained he was always to call her Ms. Hansen, even when they were not with the clients so it would become routine. She also emphasized as her assistant she expected him to obey her and carry out her requests without question.

She emphasized that following directions was critically important to her. She went on to say in a non-threatening yet serious tone there would be consequences if he breached this trust she was placing in him.

Clearly her speech had direct applicability to the work at hand and their working relationship, but she also used it as a psychological tool to cement her domination over young Michael and make him more pliable to her extracurricular demands.

She concluded by asking him very firmly, “Do you understand Michael?”

He quickly responded, “Yes Ms. Hansen.”

“Great, then let’s get started,” she eagerly shot back.

"As you can see, there is a lot of paperwork to go through, so you understand what is associated with what, and how to organize it and retrieve it during the negotiation sessions,” she lectured.

They worked tirelessly for almost two hours. She showed him various documents and through color coding how they fit in and when they would likely be needed during the negotiations. Ms. Hansen noticed Michael had a persistent habit of adjusting, straightening or simply fiddling with his clothing. Over time this was becoming an annoyance to her.

It was getting warm in the room. Ms. Hansen called and had some refreshments brought to them. When they got back to work Michael shed his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. This only increased his actions tinkering with his clothes. She was really finding it distracting which annoyed her to no end because usually she was able to focus despite distractions.

After a few more instances of this over the next half hour she straightened and turned to him.

Michael, “you’re spending an inordinate amount of time fussing over your clothes while you work. It’s distracting me and breaking the flow of our efforts. Why don’t you strip down to your underpants. You’ll be much more comfortable as we work given the heat and you won’t be distracted by constantly attending to your clothing,” she said with conviction.

He didn’t know if she was serious or not. He breezily responded, “I’m ok it's just a little warm, but I enjoy having the doors to the terrace open and I think I’m warm because I’m moving around a lot and trying to absorb what you're telling me.”

Ms. Hansen walked around the desk and as she neared him said, “Michael, that was an order not a suggestion. I need the distractions to stop”

Michael's fingers froze mid-air and an immediate blush came over him. Kneeling near a file, he looked up at her and an awkward silence ensued. "Is-s-s that really necessary Ms. Hansen?" The words stumbled out, his voice cracking on the last syllable. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, pooling under his collar.

Ms. Hansen didn’t blink. She slid her glasses down her nose just enough to peer over the frames, the gesture somehow more threatening than the demand itself. "Yes," she said, tapping a folder with a single, polished nail. "I think we’ll work better that way." The certainty in her voice left no room for debate.

After a few more awkward moments of silence and inaction during which he was almost paralyzed by her request she spoke up again, “Michael," she said, her voice sharp enough to slice through his hesitation, "We have a lot more to do stop diddling." The slight edge of annoyance in her tone snapped him into motion. He was torn between wanting to please her and the sheer embarrassment of what she wanted him to do.

Fear came over him. What if he refused and Ms. Hansen reported to Ms. Reese he was uncooperative. He wondered what the repercussions of that would be. He came to the realization he was cornered with no way out.

Ever so slowly but steadily he shed his clothing one article at a time turning a deep red in the process. Turning slightly to maintain some semblance of modesty he unbuckled, lowered and stepped out of his pants. There he stood clad only in tighty whitey underpants. He felt silly standing there even though Ms. Hansen didn’t seem to give him a second thought because she continued to work seemingly ignoring him.

Ms. Hansen may have appeared to be paying scant attention to him and his state of undress but she actually was intensely watching his every move. Their eyes finally met after a number of minutes and she matter of factly said, “That’s better.”

Inside, she was so excited it was hard to keep a lid on it. Her outer actions- all business, belayed what was going on inside her. He felt a deep sense of shame and an unsettling inside that he was inferior and his masculinity was being snatched from him.

She turned back to the files, plucking one from the table and holding it out to him. "Sort these by date. Any undated, flag them with a sticky note." Her tone was brisk, businesslike, as if she wasn’t in a room with an almost naked man she barely knew.

The minutes bled into another two hours, the only sounds the rustle of paper and the occasional click of Ms. Hansen’s pen against her teeth as she reviewed a document or her giving Michael an instruction or tip. Michael moved around almost constantly to retrieve documents, and to sort or merge files. What he didn’t know was that Ms. Hansen watched his every move.

She felt in total control. She almost effortlessly got Michael to take off his shirt and more importantly his pants for her. It was an erotic feeling. She was the master and he was reduced to a submissive waiting to be told what to do. She was going to really enjoy these few days with Michael.

As they worked there was little vocal interaction between them other than for her to give direction and for him to respond. Occasionally the brush of her fingers against his bare shoulder when she reached over him sent fresh heat prickling down his spine.

She moved around him like he was furniture, her focus absolute, yet every so often her palm would land casually on the small of his back as she leaned past him to retrieve a document. The touch lingered just a fraction too long each time, her fingers pressing possessively into his skin before withdrawing.

At one point she was standing directly in front of him. He had his back to her and may not have been aware she was behind him. As he bent down to retrieve a file out of the box his underpants became taught and the outline of his two firm, round ass cheeks was obvious, Ms. Hansen stared licking her lips. She had devised a scheme for the mornings that would expose that perfect backside and put it on display for her enjoyment.

By the third hour, she’d migrated to the desk, heels kicked off but posture still impeccable, while Michael kneeling on the carpet was collecting documents into a single file for tomorrow. The pile of flagged discrepancies grew steadily beside him, sticky notes fluttering like pale yellow flags of surrender.

He didn’t realize she’d moved until her shadow fell across the papers. "You missed one," she said, and before he could turn, her hand came down in a crisp slap against his backside—firm enough to sting. The sound cracked through the room, sharp as a starting pistol. Michael was stunned by her action, but he kept his eyes on the files. "Sorry, Ms. Hansen," he murmured automatically, though he wasn’t sure what for. Her chuckle was low, private, as she strode back to the desk, comforted in the knowledge she again exerted her authority and elated at his submissive response.

The last file clicked shut with finality, the stack of organized papers a neat monument to hours of silent labor. "Room service," she announced, plucking the hotel phone from its cradle with the ease of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Her order was crisp—salmon, salad, mineral water—no need to consult the menu.

The knock came surprisingly quick, followed by the muffled clatter of wheels against carpet as room service maneuvered the cart inside. Michael stayed in the office part of the suite hoping not to be seen by the young Hispanic woman delivering their dinner.

The room service cart gleamed under the chandelier, silver domes catching the light like miniature moons. Michael moved from the area where he was hiding when the staff person departed, his bare feet shifting on the plush carpet. Ms. Hansen didn’t look up from arranging her napkin. "Sit," she said, nodding to the chair opposite her—the one she’d already pulled out.

He sat gingerly, the leather of the chair sticking to the hair on his thighs where his briefs rode up. She lifted the first dome with a flourish, revealing seared salmon artfully drizzled with sauce. "Tell me," she said, spearing a bite with surgical precision, "about the first time Ms. Reese made you undress in front of her."

"Do we really have to talk about this Ms. Hansen? It’s not something I like to think about,” he sheepishly replied.

She retorted, “Yes, it is important for me to know the person I am going to rely on to assist me during these important and high-level negotiations.”

"Were you embarrassed?" Ms. Hansen asked, her fork hovering over the salmon as if the question were merely an afterthought. Michael stared at his reflection in the silver dome lid—his own face warped, wide-eyed, mouth slightly open like a fish gasping on a dock.

He stammered and hesitated and finally found composure, “Yeah, it was very embarrassing. I felt my dignity and manliness slip away. But I had no choice.”

That afternoon in Ms. Reese's office had carved itself into his psyche. Michael's fingers tightened around the napkin in his lap now, the linen wrinkling under his grip.

Ms. Hansen set her fork down with deliberate precision, the tines clicking against the china plate. She placed her elbows on the table and with arms upright rested her head on interlocked hands "So tell me about it, Michael," she said, tilting her head just enough to catch the light glinting off her reading glasses.

He finally relented, “It was during my interview. Ms. Reese emphasized the importance of following directions and asked if I could do that. Then to test me she had me stand and first drop my pants and then pull down my underpants. She continued the interview while I was like that.”

“That’s very interesting Michael. Are you embarrassed to be here with me in only your underpants?" she inquired.

The question hung between them, heavy as the silver domes still covering his untouched meal.

Michael's thighs stuck to the leather chair as he shifted, the squeak of skin against upholstery embarrassingly loud. He opened his mouth—to lie, to deflect—but the way Ms. Hansen's gaze pinned him made the words dissolve on his tongue. "Yeah," he admitted finally, the word scraping his throat raw.

Ms. Hansen adjusted her position now sitting erect. Her now freed fingers traced the rim of her water glass, the ice long since melted into quiet puddles. "I need to be sharp tomorrow," she said, rising from the table with the effortless grace of someone who’d spent a lifetime dismissing rooms. Michael stood automatically, his chair scraping the carpet—too loud, too eager. She waved a hand, already turning toward the connecting door. "Finish eating. You can leave the cart. They’ll get it in the morning." Her blouse caught the light as she moved, the silk whispering against her skin like a secret.

At the threshold to her bedroom, she paused, one hand on the doorknob. "Tomorrow," she said, not looking back, "when you wake up, I want you to take a shower. When you're finished, come in here at 7 am!” Her voice was measured, each word placed like a chess piece. "Oh, and Michael, I want you again only wearing your underpants so we have no distractions with you fussing over your clothes and how you look!” The command hung between them. Michael’s throat tightened. "Yes, Ms. Hansen." The words came out steadier than he felt. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile a sliver of satisfaction. "Good. I’ll see you in the morning."

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final as a judge’s gavel. Once inside alone with her thoughts, Ms. Hansen’s mind went wild with fantasies about Michael and what she wanted to do to him. She was very satisfied and was thoroughly enjoying this new found excitement and control over another.

At precisely 7 am Michael came out of his room. He’d been sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for a long time thinking about things. He felt ashamed having spent most of yesterday afternoon like that in front of Ms. Hansen and knowing it would be that way this morning. But there was more. He actually had a fear of her and was concerned what she would do if he crossed her. At the same time a part of time deep down found comfort in and a type of craving for being bossed around and being submissive to her. He struggled with these conflicting emotions.

He padded across the carpet, the fibers prickling under his bare feet. Ms. Hansen stood satisfied when she saw him clad only in underpants. She was already dressed in a navy suit that hugged her frame like armor and it appeared she had been working. Her hair was pulled into a severe knot, not a strand out of place. He felt foolish, and inferior given his state of dress compared to hers.

In her hand, she held something slender and metallic, twirling it absently between her fingers.

"Michael," she said without turning, "do you know what this is?" The object caught the light as she extended it toward him—a slim silver rod with a rounded tip. Michael hesitated, his throat dry from sleep. "It looks like... a thermometer?" The words came out uncertain, his voice still rough from sleep.

Ms. Hansen's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she turned the silver rod in her fingers. "Yes," she murmured, "It's a rectal thermometer." His breath quickened, the flush spreading from his neck to his chest like spilled ink.

"Each morning before breakfast I'll be taking your temperature," she continued, “to make sure you're not coming down with anything.” As a cover for the purely titillating and personal pleasure reasons for doing it she went on to add, “l can not afford to get sick during the negotiations. It would be potentially devastating to the entire deal given the point we’re at in the discussions."

Her tone was clinical, but the way her gaze tracked his reaction was anything but. He felt like a child, and ashamed at the thought as he listened. He blushed profusely.

Purposely prying and wanting to keep him on the defensive, she asked, “Have you ever had your temperature taken rectally as an adult?”

He tensed up, embarrassed to answer. She persisted, “Well have you, yes or no? It‘s an easy question.”

Sheepishly he replied, “Y-y-y yes Ms Hansen.

“YOU have!” showing great surprise she came back, “When?”

“Well, you see, ah, ah, when I had my pre-employment physical for this job.”

His confession piqued her interest and she quickly replied, “I see, tell me about it Michael.”

Michael, still in shock shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other and very meekly murmured, “Ms. Hansen, is it really necessary? I’m feeling fine. It would be so demeaning having you do that to me. Can’t you take it another way”

"That's not the point and rectal temperatures are the most accurate…and accuracy is critical given the situation!" Ms. Hansen said, her voice slicing through his protest like a scalpel. “Now tell me about having your temperature taken at your physical.”

“It was just part of the physical, I guess that’s the way the doctor does it,” he said.

“So the doctor took your temperature, not a nurse,” Ms. Hansen shot back.

“Y-y-yes, she did everything, there was no nurse,” he replied.

“Oh, the doctor was female!” Ms. Hansen said her interest intensifying.

“So, Michael, how did you feel having your temperature taken rectally by the female doctor?

“T-t-the whole experience was not fun. She was just a few years older than me. She was doing something called a residency, I think. And I felt, well, inferior to her because of how successful she was and how she bossed me around. And on top of that there was the physical. She made me take all my clothes off and put on this t-shirt type of gown. (This gown that is a staple for adult male patients in Dr. Bolton’s medical office was described in Exam Day, also in this series.) When I told her it was too small she laughed and said that was the way it is supposed to fit so she can see and have access to me. It was just sooo humiliating,” he sheepishly admitted.

As he spoke Ms. Hansen thought to herself how much she would enjoy playing doctor with him. She imagined the setting in an exam room and her examining every inch of his body. She was getting turned on just thinking about it.

“So Michael, this should not be a big deal since another woman recently not only took your temperature this way, she made you take off all your clothes for her,” Ms. Hansen said with little regard for his feelings and slightly condescending.

The thermometer looked threatening as she gestured toward the long couch. "Now come over here and pull down your underpants and lie on the couch, " The command hung between them, sterile and unyielding as the instrument in her hand.

He hesitated. She became turned on just by speaking her instruction to him and eager with anticipation.

Her words, “Michael, I’m waiting,” snapped him out of his stupor.

Reluctantly, the young man did as directed. He laid down and only then lowered his underpants just enough to expose his bottom. She couldn’t believe she was staring at the young man’s naked ass. When he was in position she excitedly sat next to him. She yanked his underpants down so they were around his knees to give herself a better view of him and to intensify his humiliation of being more exposed to her.

She took a long moment to admire Michael’s backside, inspecting it like someone would a work of art. It was pale against the dark colored couch. The sight sent a current through her that nearly short-circuited her usual composure. She exhaled slowly through her nose, counting backward from five in German, willing her hands to steady. She had waited for this moment for such a long time.

He was perfection—the slope of his spine, the way his cheek muscles rose steeply from his legs and the hint of hair on an otherwise smooth surface of skin.

Her hands were shaking she was so excited. She lubricated the instrument and separated his cheeks taking a long peek at his back hole. She next guided the rod into him like she watched women do to men a thousand times on the internet. This caused him to bury his head in the couch cushion.

The tip of the thermometer pressed inward with gradual insistence, the resistance giving way all at once as the sphincter yielded. Michael's sigh shuddered through him—not quite relief, not quite resignation, but something in between that made her smile and augment her sense of domination and control.

She had to admit the scene looked rather bizarre. A grown man lying there with his ass exposed and a glass rod protruding from his back hole as a fully clothed woman he barely knows sits next to him dressed to the max. At the same time from her perspective, it was an incredibly liberating and satisfying experience. She was very turned on to say the least and squeezed her thighs together to increase the pleasurable feeling she was experiencing.

She rested a hand on his asscheek and asked him if he was doing ok, not really interested in his answer. He was mortified. He couldn’t believe what was taking place and wondered how he would react from now on in her presence knowing what she had done to him.

While she waited for the instrument to register she thought she would torment him some more. “So Michael, did the doctor take your temperature with you laying down like we are doing now?” she amusedly asked.

He hesitated for a long while and said, “No, no she didn’t do it that way.”

“Then how?” she persisted.

“S-s-she made me bend over the exam table,” he sheepishly replied.

Her short response, “I see.”

After what seemed an eternity to him, she leaned over and reached to take hold of the thermometer. As she slowly extracted the rod Michael's hips jerked involuntarily at the sensation, the movement making the cushion waver slightly. Ms. Hansen proudly announced, “Perfect, 98.6!”

With that she put the instrument down on the table and turning back to him gave his right asscheek a light tap as she said, “Up you go, we’re all done. You can pull up your underpants. I’m going to take your temperature each morning. We have a big day ahead of us and some important preparation to do, and I’m ready for some breakfast.”

Michael couldn’t get his underpants pulled up quick enough. Ms. Hansen watched him with amusement and a sense of satisfaction on her face. She thought to herself that just a few moments ago his now covered in cotton underpants backside was on full display and she glowed in the thought of the complete control she had over the young man and the things she wanted to do to him the next few days.

Now that she had a little taste of this dominating thing she found it incredibly satisfying and wondered if it would become an insatiable appetite.

When they arrived at the building where the negotiations were to take place Ms. Hansen immediately went into her driven mode. She became totally serious, very formal and laser focused. They were shown into the conference room. Michael thought it smelled of leather and black coffee, the air thick with tension.

Michael stood by the credenza like a piece of forgotten furniture, his freshly ironed shirt already sticking to his lower back. Ms. Hansen, maintaining her seriousness, sat at the head of the table and crossed her legs with the precision of a guillotine blade, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. Michael was amazed at the attention she drew from the all male participants. She was clearly in control. Michel fumbled with the files on the credenza arranging in the order Ms. Hansen wanted.

After very brief idle chatter Ms. Hansen called the meeting to order and began with an opening statement and establishing ground rules after which discussions started in earnest. "Exhibit twelve-B," she said without glancing at Michael, the numbers rolling off her tongue like a combination to a safe.

Michael lurched into motion, his dress shoes squeaking on the polished floor as he hurried to the file box. This became the norm. Ms. Hansen would be making a point or evaluating a statement or a handout by one of the others and she would bark, exhibit this or chart that. Michael was doing his best to stay on top of things but at times when she was really on a roll and her requests were coming fast and furious he sometimes would be slow to respond creating an awkward silence in the room.

At one point after a couple of hours a break was requested as one of the sides wanted to privately consider a new parameter that was offered up. Ms. Hansen asked if there was an office where she could have privacy to take a break and continue to work.

As the two of them walked to the assigned office one floor up and in a corner of the building she appeared to still be in mediator mode so Michael remained silent.

When they entered what was more like a small conference room after looking around they both took off their business jackets. Ms. Hansen turned to Michael and in a serious tone barked, “Michael, I give your performance this morning a B+. I need, I must have, an A+ performance from you. As you witnessed, it is imperative that the items I need are available quickly so as not to lose the momentum or break the flow.”

Michael looking dejected hung his head and offered a feeble response, “ I’ll try harder,”

As she pulled an armless chair to the open part of the office and sat on it she retorted, Trying isn’t good enough Michael. Performance is what counts. And excellence is what is needed. Come over here, I think what you need is a little motivator, a reminder and encouragement.”

He meekly approached where she was sitting. She wasted no time. In a stern, no nonsense voice leaving no question as to her seriousness, she motioned with her finger and announced, “Drop them. I’m going to employ the same technique Ms. Reese does to ensure you stay focused and do what is required.

In absolute fear he cried out, “Oh please, no, you’re not going to spank me. Right here. I’m really sorry. I promise to do better. Please Ms. Hansen.”

“Sorry Michael, you need to take responsibility for your actions and accept the consequences like a man,” she said forcibly.

He felt like a failure. Like he had let her down. Just like with Ms. Reese, he felt he deserved what was coming. Head hung low and nervously but quickly he unbuckled and let his pants fall to his ankles. Motioning with her finger again she barked, “Those too indicating his underpants.”

Blushing terribly, he did as she ordered. He felt foolish standing in front of her with his lower garments pooled around his ankles. He was relieved his shirt tail hanging low allowed him a semblance of modesty.

“Now over my knees,” she instructed him. Shamefaced he got in position. She shifted her legs slightly, trapping his manhood between her thighs. The first smack landed before he could even process the humiliating position, a sharp crack that sent a jolt of heat radiating across his backside. Michael gasped—more from shock than pain—but Ms. Hansen didn't pause.

Her hand came down in rapid succession on one cheek and then the other. She continued in quick smacks that seemed to get more severe as she continued. Her palm came down again, harder this time, punctuating her expectations. By the sixth blow, he was already squirming, his shoes scuffing against the floor as he twisted in her grasp.

She brought her hand down again, and again and again. Fire bloomed across his cheeks, and his legs kicked wildly, heels drumming against nothing.

She, on the other hand, was enjoying herself immensely and found satisfaction the more she thrashed him. She couldn’t believe how empowered, dominant, she felt. And she had a strong inner feeling that what she was doing was like a vindication for women in general for the years of mistreatment they endured in the office environment. She also found it sexually intoxicating.. The more she thought about it the harder the smacks landed.

She didn't slow. Each smack landed with methodical precision, painting his backside in overlapping waves of stinging heat. He bit his lip to stifle a whimper, but by the twentieth slap, his resolve shattered. "Ow! Please stop Ms. Hansen, I’ll do better, really I will.”

Ms. Hansen adjusted her grip, her breath barely quickened. "We're nowhere near done," she said mildly, and the next volley came twice as fast.” His legs flailed, The rhythm was merciless now: crisp, measured smacks that left no inch of skin untouched. Michael’s gasps dissolved into ragged panting, his forehead pressed almost to the carpet "P-please— stop Ms. Hansen" he hiccupped, but the plea only earned him a sharper swat to his sit-spots.

She paused just long enough to let the wordless ache settle in. Michael shuddered, hips twitching as the throbbing intensified. Then her palm skimmed his flaming skin—assessing, almost clinical—before descending again with deliberate force. This time, he howled. Ms. Hansen hummed approval. "Now we're getting somewhere." Her fingers flexed, then spread wide to pepper his entire backside in a fresh barrage.

Finally it was over. In a strict, condescending voice with him in that utterly undignified position draped across her lap she lectured him reiterating her expectations. When she was through, she asked definitively, “Michael, do you understand me?”

The beaten young man cowering responded sullenly, “Yes Ms. Hansen, I promise I’ll do better.”

Smitten with herself she said, “Good, now get up and pull yourself together we have important work to do.”

At the end of the day’s negotiations, a limousine picked them up to take them to a favorite restaurant of Ms. Hansen’s for dinner. A privacy screen hummed softly as it ascended, sealing them in a cocoon of tinted glass and Italian leather. Ms. Hansen didn’t look up from her tablet, her fingers swiping through contract revisions with the efficiency of a card shark dealing a hand.

Michael sat rigidly beside her not wanting to interrupt her, admiring the rich interior of the vehicle while nursing a very sore bottom that made it difficult to sit. The divider’s opaque surface reflected his own face back at him—pale, wide-eyed—as the vehicle merged into evening traffic with a lurch that pressed his thigh against hers and made him squirm due to the pain in his bottom.

When she lifted her head and appeared to be finished he spoke, “That was very impressive the way you ran that meeting Ms. Hansen. You certainly were in charge. Everyone looked to you for guidance and direction.

Ms. Hansen looked up over her glasses, and said, “Thank you Michael. It certainly was a good couple of sessions. I’m very encouraged and think the deal is close at hand.” She noted with a smirk he was sitting uncomfortably and constantly changing positions to relieve the pain.

Less enthusiastically he said, “And I hope my performance was up to your standards during the afternoon sessions.”

She powered off the tablet with a decisive tap, the glow fading from her sharp features. She stretched her arms overhead, the silk of her blouse pulling taut across her shoulders, then turned to Michael and looking directly at him with piercing eyes and determination said, "Michael, it was necessary for me to deal with you firmly this morning. I know I gave you a very vicious spanking. Perhaps I went a little overboard. I may have been releasing some of my pent-up stress.

In a feeble and ashamed tone he lowered his head and responded, “I understand, and I know I deserved it, but did you have to spank me so hard and for so long. I’m really sore down there.”

If he thought by being candid with her about the effects of the thrashing, she gave him would elicit some sympathy on her part he miscalculated. His confession only served to stir and bring to the surface those inner domination yearnings.

Then seemingly out of nowhere but actually acting on those inner cravings she told him, “Let me take a look.”

Michael froze and that hot feeling of embarrassment came over him. The limousine’s ambient lighting caught the fright in his face as he processed what she said. Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of neon and steel, the world moving at normal speed while his own ground to a halt. The leather seat creaked as he shifted, his dress shoes suddenly heavy as lead weights.

Ms. Hansen watched over the rims of her reading glasses, the silver frames catching the overhead light when she tilted her head. The silence stretched—not uncomfortable, but expectant, like a teacher waiting for a student to solve an equation written on the board.

"Right here Ms. Hansen," he hissed, voice cracking on the second syllable, "Someone might see me, and the driver That would be—" His throat worked around the word, Adam's apple bobbing violently. "Embarrassing." The admission landed between them like a dropped coin, ringing faintly against the leather seats.

Ms. Hansen laughed heartily, the sound rich and unfiltered—a reaction that further cemented his inferior status and his shame. "Stop being silly! No one can, or will, see you," she chuckled, tapping the tinted window with one polished nail. The glass thumped dully under her touch, opaque as a prison wall. Outside, the evening crowd surged past like fish in an aquarium, blind to the drama unfolding inches away. She leaned closer, her perfume—something dark and expensive—filling the space between them. "Now, come, come let me have a look." Her smile sharpened. "Or do you want me to undress you?"

Michael felt trapped. He knew he could not refuse Ms. Hansen. She held all the cards. But her request was so demeaning. He finally rationalized the situation thinking about all she had put him through already.

Ever so slowly and hot with embarrassment he began to undress.

The limousine hit a pothole, jolting them together. Michael's knee bumped hers, the contact electric. His fingers fumbled with his belt, the leather slipping through his clammy grip. Ms. Hansen watched, arms crossed, her business suit perfectly tailored.

His slacks slipped down his legs and gathered around his ankles in a heap. He then hesitated. The air conditioning prickled against his bare thighs.

"Underpants too," Ms. Hansen reminded him, tapping her watch. The crystal face caught the light, scattering prismatic dots across the ceiling. Michael continued to hesitate as if he was paralyzed. Ms. Hansen sighed clearly frustrated with his slowness. All at once she turned and leaned toward him, stretching her arms. She took a firm hold of the waistband of his underpants and in one strong tug it joined his slacks around his ankle. "There," she murmured, “Was that so hard?"

Michael's hands flew to his lap, fingers splaying instinctively over himself to hide his private area from her view even though his shirt tail was doing that. The leather seat stuck to his thighs and backside with every slight shift—intensifying the pain from the spanking. Ms. Hansen's gaze lingered like a physical touch, her pupils dilating slightly as she took in the sight of him: bottomless.

Her palms tapped her thigh twice—sharp, deliberate—the sound muffled by the fabric of her skirt. "Now climb over and get across my lap so I can take a look."

"What—why... across your lap?" Michael stammered, the words tumbling out in a jumble of disbelief and rising panic. The limousine's engine hummed beneath them, a steady counterpoint to the erratic thump of his pulse in his ears.

“Michael, how am I going to check your bottom if you don’t show it to me,” she exclaimed dripping with sarcasm.

The limousine hit another pothole, sending Michael lurching forward—Ms. Hansen caught him by the wrist with one hand while bracing against the door with the other. Her grip was iron, manicured nails pressing crescent moons into his skin. She almost effortlessly guided him sideways with terrifying efficiency. Michael's hip collided with her thigh, the sudden warmth of her body through the silk skirt shocking against his bare skin.

Time fractured—one moment he was upright, the next he was draped across her lap like a towel over a chaise lounge. The position forced his face inches from the door handle, his nose brushing cold metal with each inhale.

Below him, Ms. Hansen adjusted her legs with the precision of someone arranging fine china, hiking her skirt just enough to let his hips settle flush against her lap and his manhood squeeze between her legs "There," she murmured, her palm coming to rest possessively on the small of his back. The warmth seeped through his dress shirt, branding him through the fabric.

Ms. Hansen’s first reaction when seeing the two bright red globes was to stifle a laugh for it was quite amusing the contrast of his red backside to the white of his legs. The levity was quickly replaced by a strong sexual turn on as she considered the scene. She thought to herself, if this wasn’t a woman dominating a man nothing was. She was ecstatic, and found it hard to control herself. She also felt a definite wetness between her legs.

She visually inspected him as if he was a piece of meat. She stretched to the side to view his testicles partially visible against her leg.

Her fingers traced the contours of both his rosy cheeks checking the redness she caused earlier in the day . The limousine's suspension worked hard to absorb the city's bumps, but as the vehicle swayed it shifted his weight against her lap in a way that made his breath hitch. Her wandering hand rubbed him, almost as if to be giving his backside a soothing massage.

Almost teasingly she asked, “Does that hurt Michael?

He simply made an unintelligible sound she found very telling. He felt powerless to do anything but endure her checking him down there. Every once in a while she would touch a particularly sore spot and he would flinch. This would cause her to stop momentarily and again ask, “That hurts, doesn’t it. It’s rather raw.”

Her hand moved lower toward where his legs met his torso. When she felt pubic hair she retraced the crack of his ass upwards.

Her fingers stopped at his opening, lingered there for a moment. She then used the fingers of the other hand to spread him wide. She withdrew her finger hovering over his opening so she could visually scrutinize his sphincter. She noted the creases, the size of the opening and its coloring. This action elicited a feeble attempt by him to wiggle free from her grasp and he tried in vain to reach back and cover himself. He also vigorously moved his backside from side to side to dislodge her fingers. Pleading, he said, “I don’t hurt back there.”

Ms. Hansen smirked, totally absorbed and in an odd way happy he was protesting her intrusions. She had a heightened sense of satisfaction knowing her actions were affecting him, intensifying his shame. She still struggled to believe what she was actually doing. It was a dream for many, many years.

Ms. Hansen's fingers held him spread wide for what seemed like a long time. She again inserted a finger from the other hand in his crack and after reaching his back hole circled it as if teasing him. It stilled momentarily, then abruptly she withdrew it from his crack. She did this a few times in succession, mostly to tease him and to keep him guessing on what she planned to do.

Michael gasped as the realization of what she was doing sunk in and he almost involuntarily shifted his bottom. "Stay still," she commanded, her voice devoid of inflection, as she leaned slightly forward to get a better view. The limousine hit a bump, sending a fresh wave of humiliation through Michael as the movement pressed his cock even more firmly against her legs.

Ms. Hansen was clearly enjoying herself. Watching his response to her inspecting and playing with him back there was rich and intensified the sexual aspects of the activity.

She a last time withdrew her finger from his crack. Her nails grazed the flesh of his left cheek causing him to flinch and yank him back to reality. "We're almost at the restaurant," she said, voice clipped with urgency. Put your pants back on."

Michael scrambled upright, his knees knocking against the center console as the limousine took a sharp turn. Ms. Hansen watched with smug satisfaction as he fumbled for his briefs—wedged beneath a shoe. His shaking hands made the simple task of righting them absurdly difficult; the waistband resisted as he fought to align the garment. The car slowed further, the engine's purr deepening to an idle.

The limousine door swung open with pneumatic precision, flooding the interior with evening sun and the brassy scent of hot asphalt. Michael stumbled out half-dressed—one shoe on, the other clutched in his left hand like a drunkard's souvenir. His belt buckle clattered against the doorframe as he tried simultaneously to step into his second Oxford while yanking up his trousers, the fabric twisting around his thighs like a reluctant snake. Somewhere behind him, Ms. Hansen smiled at the driver who gave her a wink and a smile.

The maître d' practically genuflected when Ms. Hansen stepped through the restaurant's entrance. "Your usual table is ready, Madame," the man murmured, hands clasped like a priest before communion. Michael, still in a state of bewilderment trying to recover from his ordeal in the limo, watched, slack-jawed, as three staff members materialized to whisk away her coat.

She mentioned she needed to use the restroom before being seated. When she came back they were escorted to a dark corner of the restaurant. The corner booth was more a private alcove than table, tucked behind a carved mahogany screen that blocked sightlines from every angle. It was very dark. Candlelight flickered in smoked glass globes, casting amber pools that licked at Ms. Hansen's cheekbones while leaving the rest of the space in velvety shadow. Michael's knee bumped the table leg as he sat, sending silverware jangling—a clumsy intrusion into this hushed sanctum. Ms. Hansen didn't glance up but the corner of her mouth twitched at the sound.

The sommelier poured Ms. Hansen's usual top of the line wine with the reverence of a priest administering communion, the ruby liquid catching candlelight as it swirled in her glass. Michael's ginger ale arrived in a tumbler sweating condensation onto the starched tablecloth—a childish contrast that made his ears burn. He reached for the artisan bread basket just as Ms. Hansen did, their fingers brushing over rosemary-studded focaccia. She withdrew first, leaving him with a torn piece steaming between his fingers.

Dinner was ordered and they were all at once alone. Ms. Hansen noticed Michael was sitting uncomfortably, squirming trying to find a position where his sore bottom didn’t hurt. The restaurant's ambient noise—clinking crystal, murmured French, a saxophone's muted wail—receded as her hand disappeared beneath the tablecloth and she said, “You’ve really got a sore bottom, don’t you?” He just blushed at her question.

Her fingers found his knee first, the touch so light it might've been accidental. Then they trailed upward with deliberate precision, skating over fibers until they encountered the gap between his trouser legs. Michael froze mid-chew, focaccia turning to sawdust in his mouth. Her palm settled warm and heavy over his groin, fingers splaying possessively through the fabric. The pressure increased incrementally—testing, assessing—before her thumb began slow, circular motions directly over his zipper.

Ms. Hansen sipped her wine with perfect composure; the stemware balanced between manicured fingers. Meanwhile, her other hand worked him with clinical efficiency, alternating between long strokes and targeted friction that made his thighs tense. Michael's knuckles whitened around his water glass, ice cubes clinking.

Her breath curled against his ear, warm as the candle flickering between them—the scent of expensive wine and something darker underneath. "You did much better in the afternoon," Ms. Hansen murmured, her lips barely grazing his earlobe. Michael's fingers clenched around his napkin, the linen crumpling under his grip. Her hand beneath the table never stilled, the rhythmic pressure through his trousers now syncing with each syllable. "I may be able to seal this deal during tomorrow’s sessions,” she went on to say."

The belt buckle clinked softly as Ms. Hansen's fingers worked the leather strap free, the sound incongruously delicate against the restaurant's murmuring din. Michael's breathing quickened when her knuckles brushed his abdomen through the thin fabric of his dress shirt—warmth radiating through the cotton like a brand. The zipper parted with a hushed hiss, teeth separating one by one as she drew the tab down with excruciating slowness.

As his eyes darted around as if looking for something in a terrified voice he squeaked, “What are you doing Ms. Hansen?”

Not missing a beat, she looked right in his eyes and casually responded, “Isn’t it obvious. I’m pulling down your pants. I think I’d like you to eat dinner bottomless.”

Her palms flattened against his hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of both trousers and underpants in one efficient motion. The fabric resisted momentarily before yielding, sliding down his thighs and once pushed beyond his bent knees fell to his ankles. Cool air prickled against newly exposed skin, making the fine hairs on his legs stand at attention. Michael's fingers dug into the tablecloth, linen bunching beneath his whitened knuckles as he fought the instinct to cover himself.

Michael's whisper cracked like dry kindling, his lips barely moving as he spoke through gritted teeth. "Ms Hansen, please, there are people all around. It’s very embarrassing to be sitting here like this." His knees pressed together in a futile attempt at modesty.

Ms. Hansen's fingers separated his legs and her fingernails bit into his inner thigh in response. She leaned forward, her Chanel No. 5 cutting through the scent of truffles and candle wax. "Look around," she murmured, tilting her wineglass toward the room. The motion made her bracelet catch the light. "Do you see anyone looking, or able to see under our table or even see us?"

Her hand continued exploring, making its way up his leg until it made contact with his cock. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface and then grasped it. She began to stroke it very slowly and tenderly. She next massaged the head, making him squirm and shut his eyes.

The tablecloth hung like a theater curtain between realities—above it, crisp white linen and bone china; below, Ms. Hansen's hand moving with the precision of a metronome against Michael's exposed sensitive area.

Michael's whisper frayed at the edges, his throat working around the words like they were shards of glass. "Please, Ms. Hansen," His knee jerked under the table when her fingernail scraped a particularly sensitive vein on the glans. "I'm, e-e- embarrassed." The admission landed squarely between them, shrinking in the candlelight. His fingers twitched toward his lap before remembering himself, settling instead on the table's edge where his nails left pale crescents in the wood. "This is very awkward and embarrassing, someone is going to notice," he nervously whispered.

Ms. Hansen's chuckle vibrated through her wineglass as she took a slow sip, the ruby liquid staining her lips. Her free hand never stilled beneath the tablecloth, thumb circling with torturous precision. "And?" The word dropped like a paperweight, flattening Michael's protest.

He inhaled sharply through his nose. He tried to think of a way to get her to stop. Even before he thought it through it came out of his mouth, "Ms. Hansen," his voice cracking with desperation and pitching upwards when her fingers tightened fractionally. "Can’t this wait until we get back to the hotel…please, please Ms. Hansen."

Ms. Hansen paused mid-sip, the rim of her wineglass hovering inches from her lips as if frozen in time. For one suspended heartbeat, Michael dared to hope—the muscles in his thighs unclenching fractionally beneath the tablecloth where her hand still rested like a sleeping predator.

Then she set the glass down with surgical precision. She leaned forward until their foreheads nearly touched. The abrupt proximity made his pulse stutter; he could count every lash framing her dilated pupils, see the exact moment her irises contracted around the pinprick of his reflection.

"What," she enunciated slowly, her breath warm while she continued her movements under the table, "makes you think you have any bargaining power?" Each word landed like a nail being driven through velvet. Michael’s Adam's apple bobbed violently as her fingers tightened around his manhood—not painfully, but with the unshakable certainty of a padlock clicking shut.

Michael knew he was beaten.

Ms. Hansen's hand stroked him slowly and then more vigorously. Michael's hips jerked involuntarily—not away, but toward that maddening touch—before he caught himself, his teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to taste copper. She observed his reaction with the detached interest of a scientist noting specimen behavior, her wineglass hovering near her lips as if she might toast his humiliation.

Ms. Hansen's fingers let go of his cock and explored further. They curled beneath him with the practiced ease of a pianist finding middle C—no fumbling, no hesitation. Her fingers made contact with a testicle with deceptive gentleness at first, the heat of her skin bleeding through the thin membrane. Michael's breath stuttered against the tablecloth when her thumb began circling the taut flesh, slow as a watch hand ticking off seconds. She switched sides without warning, her touch pushing just enough to make his thighs tense—the left receiving the same clinical attention as the right, each kneading motion measured and deliberate.

A sound escaped Michael's lips—half gasp, half whimper. His hips started to rotate to push back on her touch. Ms. Hansen's lips parted in silent satisfaction as she watched him struggling to maintain his composure. When she squeezed a testicle experimentally, Michael's hips jerked forward of their own accord, his growing erection brushing the underside of the table.

The erection grew to its fullest under her continued manipulation. His body arched forward instinctively, only to freeze mid-motion as the realization of what he'd done crashed over him like ice water. The linen tablecloth brushed against his exposed tip, the whisper-soft contact sending another involuntary twitch through him.

Ms Hansen purposely pulled the tablecloth upwards onto the table to take a satisfied look at her handywork. His erection stood at attention, flushed and twitching in the chilled air, a living testament to her dominance. Ms. Hansen was certainly relishing the situation and savoring the thrill. As Michael became more turned on she became more and more sexually stimulated.

And this is the way he remained for the duration of the dinner—naked from the waist down beneath the linen shroud, thighs pressed together tight, while Ms. Hansen dissected her duck confit with surgical precision. Every so often, her hand would find its way under the table to torment him, sending a jolt through him that had nothing to do with the restaurant's overzealous air conditioning. The candle between them burned lower, wax pooling in the dish like captured moonlight, as Michael learned the exquisite torture of being simultaneously exposed and teased.

The plan for the next morning was to prepare for what Ms Hansen hoped was the final round of negotiations in the afternoon. She was confident in the result and elated the proceedings were ahead of schedule. This was definitely a good thing because as much as she excelled as a mediator and was laser focused in her work she found herself ever more distracted by the extracurricular activities with Michael. She was beyond satisfied with how that was going and found just thinking about it was titillating. She found it intoxicating and wanted to engage in it ever more.

She rose early and had been working for a couple of hours before he came out. When he entered, she looked up from her glasses and felt that swell of control and superiority for as instructed he was wearing only his tighty whitey underpants.

She called from the office part of the suite, “Good morning, Michael. Bring me the thermometer and lube so I can get checking your temperature out of the way.”

She was seated at the desk. When he neared, she swiveled in the chair to face him and told him to put the items down. Pointing, she next directed him to bend over the desk for her. He was not up to doing battle with her and recognized that would be futile so in silence he did as she ordered.

With no hesitation she briskly in one swift move sent his underpants to his ankles. This was followed by her purposely greasing the glass rod so he could see to intensify his subordination and embarrassment. Once the instrument was firmly inserted in his rectum while she waited for it to register, she gave him a rundown of what she expected to occur that day.

When it appeared she was finished speaking Michael turned his head back to face her and although speaking honestly, he also certainly hoped what he was about to say as a way to get and stay on her good side. He proceeded to shower her with praise saying, “You know Ms. Hansen, you were really great yesterday. You were able to get both sides to agree to most of the items you presented for them to consider. They are really lucky to have you leading them along.”

Ms. Hansen certainly appreciated the accolades but what struck her most was the absurdity of the situation. She had the young man bent over a desk nude and submitting to her taking his temperature in his ass. And with the glass rod sticking out of his backside he was lavishing compliments on her. It was insane….but she was thrilled all over! She proudly concluded he was resigned to and accepting of his role and completely acquiescence to her.

Purposely, she waited until she was in the process of extracting the thermometer to speak, acknowledging his confidence in her and his role as her assistant. She looked up at him and while announcing his temperature was normal she patted his nearest asscheek and then gave it a light tap indicating she was done. As he was pulling up his underpants after the deed was done she announced room service had brought up breakfast.

Although there was still much to prepare it seemed more manageable because the list of unresolved issues was short. She still worked both herself and him hard. It was her nature.

About mid-morning she announced they were getting close to being prepared and that it was a good time to take a break. She motioned toward the terrace and said, “Let’s go out on the terrace to get some fresh air and relax and take in the city views. I’m going to go make myself a cup of coffee, take your water and I’ll meet you out there.”

She got up and started for the foyer and turned toward him, and peering over her glasses added, “Michael remove your underpants before you go outside. She then left, leaving him no opportunity to question or protest.

He was more than a little taken aback by her command. Even after all he had been through with her, he had never been completely naked in front of her and a new wave of humiliation came over him.

Ms. Hansen was more than pleased when she approached the terrace seeing Michael standing at the railing nude with those two perfectly formed asscheeks still a rosy red greeting her. She went up and stood close to him. He purposely leaned into the railing to hide his genitals from her view. She pointed out distant and near landmarks. They scanned the horizon, him naked and her dressed in her most powerful business suit all black with surprisingly high heels and a white blouse. She looked like a million dollars.

After an extended silence she spoke again, “I see your bottom is still a pinkish color. Does it still sting?”

He shyly responded, “It's better this morning.”

She then began to praise him for his work since the little ordeal and almost jokingly avowed. “It seems as though my motivational technique worked.” While she spoke her free hand started rubbing his asscheeks. This went on for a number of minutes. She couldn’t help herself and extended a finger toward his black hole hovering over the opening. He moved his backside as if to protest her finger but just as likely to encourage her.

She withdrew her finger and stepped away and sat in one of the chairs set back from the railing. After admiring his ass for a few moments longer she motioned for him to come stand next to her chair. She laughed to herself when he approached because of how silly his misguided modesty looked as his hands were clasped tightly in front of his crotch.

She started talking about the negotiations. Her hand pushed his hands away leaving his genitals exposed. This was the first time she got an unfettered view of his front in the light of day. She stared at him down there for a long interval, savoring the view. She licked her lips. She liked what she saw. She was impressed. He was perfectly proportioned and his cock was nice looking. The tip, the glans, was large, almost seeming out of proportion, and was smooth and a lighter color than the rest of his shaft. It looked to her like a mushroom. His testicles plump and surprisingly hairy. She felt a tingling between her legs.

She looked up at his face. He remained stoic almost as if paralyzed. He was beet red. Her hand reached out toward his testicles. Her hand first fondled one then the other, and then she cupped one as if she was weighing it. He jumped at her touch and mumbled something incoherent. She looked up at him but continued her probe of his body.

She next ran her finger down the length of his shaft and when she reached his glans she paid particular attention to it circling the mushroom shaped tip. She noted his pleasurable reaction. She next circled his manhood and began manipulating his organ. He experienced very conflicting emotions while she did this. It could best be described as embarrassing arousal. As he started to thicken, she looked up at him and said, “Michael you like this don’t you?”

Not waiting for a response, she let go of him. He couldn't believe he felt disappointed and longed for her touch again.

In a measured voice she told him, “Michael, play with yourself. Show me how it's done.”

He was so sexually aroused from her actions he needed little urging from her and began to stroke himself. She watched in utter delight. She marveled at how he grew in both thickness and length. She noticed a glistening right at the tip.

After observing for a while she grabbed his arm and told him to stop. When he let go of himself- reluctantly, she marveled at how his cock fully engorged twitched and bobbed on its own and with his slightest movement. She had him sit so she could admire his hard on at her leisure and force him to remain in that exposed state as they rested. She made idle chatter but didn't take her eyes off his penis that was standing at attention.

The afternoon meeting with the clients went as she had hoped. After about three hours of additional give and take it was announced by the two CEOs that the approach, terms and specific deal points developed and agreed to through the mediation were acceptable to both. Both parties were happy and so was the president of Ms. Hansen’s firm when she called him to give him the news. This meant she and Michael could return home early. Her firm’s president was so elated he told her a private jet would be sent to pick them up.

The entire limo ride back to the hotel Ms. Hansen was on the phone. She appeared pumped and on a natural high given her success in the mediation.

At the hotel when they walked together Michael sensed she was being standoffish almost aloof. He chalked it up that she was distracted and in another place mentally given the big success she just achieved. When they entered the lobby she told the attending staff person that they would take the private elevator to the suite themselves. She made an excuse that they were going to transfer their files from the suite to the elevator to save time tomorrow. He happily agreed.

When they neared the elevator located in a secluded alcove of the lobby Michael went in first because Ms. Hansen had an additional conversation with the staff person. When Ms. Hansen entered she got right in Michael’s face and holding down the “open door” button in an annoyed tone said, “Michael, you should not have done that! It was extremely unprofessional, inappropriate for the situation and could have tainted my image!”

He looked dumbfounded and nervously asked, “W-w-what did I do?”

Maintaining her outrage she snapped, “You don’t know. You really don’t know? You hugged me after the mediation was concluded in the presence of the others, that's what you did!”

“I-I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I was proud of you and wanted to show you how much I thought of your work and how great I thought you were,” he stammered.

“Unacceptable,” she shot back, “I am really not happy with you right now Michael. I have some business to attend to. I want you to go to the suite and think of a suitable punishment for your transgression. And it better be satisfactory. But before you go, take off all your clothes right here and go up to the suite naked, and remain that way until I get back. Hopefully that will make a lasting impression so you won’t be so absentminded in the future!!!”

The young man was so shellshocked, terrified and completely confused by what she was saying and her serious determination he opened his mouth to say something then dropped his head in defeat and started shedding his clothes almost unconsciously without complaint.

When he was naked after eying him from head to toe she reached out and gave his ass a wicked smack that sent him against the wall. She noted the way his cock swung violently due to the motion. As she released the open door button she said, “And remember stay just the way you are until I get back! As the door closed and she got one last glimpse of him standing naked, hands clasped over his groin and clothes strewn around the floor, that strong sense of domination and control came over her in a powerful burst. She was on top of the world for a number of reasons.

After about an hour Ms. Hansen returned to the suite. He was sitting in the living area of the suite with a towel covering his groin looking like he was sulking. Even though she expected it she nevertheless was delighted he was still nude.

As soon as she entered he went into a desperate pleading saying, Ms. Hansen I didn't mean to embarrass you with what I did. I was only trying to show you my admiration and happiness for your achievement. I now understand it may not have been the appropriate thing to do. I’m sorry.”

In a sheepish tone he went on to say, “I really don’t want you to spank me again. It’s so humiliating and I don’t want to be sore down there for the long flight tomorrow. Isn’t there some other way? Isn’t me having to be naked here in the room enough?”

“Hardly,” she shot back, “So Michael what do you propose as an alternative punishment then?”

As he was trying to come up with a response just by coincidence she caught sight of the rectal thermometer she purposely left out on the counter as a reminder to him of his submission to her and her dominance in their relationship. Instantly the idea popped in her head.

“So you don’t want a spanking as punishment,” she said in a patronizing manner, “and you don’t have an alternative to offer?

He was panicking. He knew there was no way out of the situation and he looked confused and at a loss.

Ms. Hansen, sensing his predicament, took advantage. As she spoke she became more excited and started getting that tingling sensation. This whole situation was set up so she could enjoy giving him another spanking. What she was thinking was even better, far better.

“You know Michael, I was intrigued when you told me about the pre-employment physical you were given by the female doctor. I’d like to hear more about that experience. In fact, I think I’d like to act out what happened at that exam. Kind of like playing doctor. That could be your punishment.”

“That sounds kind of weird Ms Hansen,” he shot back with a new found confidence.

“Well Michael, have you come up with a fitting punishment,” she quickly responded.

Michael was cornered and feeling very uncomfortable and nervous. Attempting to cut the tension he said in a more conciliatory tone, “Ms. Hansen, it’s just very embarrassing and it was a very demeaning experience having a very young female doctor examining me the way she did.”

Ms. Hansen deliberately pried, “I bet it was. Tell me, what was the most embarrassing part?” When he didn’t respond to her question she continued, “I bet she looked at and touched you all over,” she cooed.

“I-i-it was only a medical exam, and she’s a doctor. That’s what a doctor does I guess” he responded. Michael looked shamefaced as he thought about that awful experience at the pre-employment exam.

He was so bewildered. She had him tied up in knots, and she knew it. As he was trying to formulate a rebuttal he became even more distraught worried Ms. Hansen would tell Ms. Reese about the incident she was cross about.

The words came out of his mouth before he was ready to say them, “Ms. Hansen, if you’re really interested, I guess we can do the medical thing you’re talking about because I really don’t want another spanking even though I know I deserve one.”

She was very proud of herself for how easily she was able to coax him into her quickly thought up plot. She was excited to get started. She used some verbal humiliation to further her control and his submissiveness and to heighten her stimulation and eroticism telling him, “Michael, since I had to come up with an alternate punishment, you will need to ask me to forgo giving you the spanking you deserve and instead play doctor and all that entails- and you better sound convincing!”

He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable and feeling shame. He tried to speak but stopped. He was clearly struggling. Finally In a feeble and sheepish voice looking down at the floor he said almost in a whisper, “Ms. Hansen let’s play doctor, ok?

She laughed out loud and quickly retorted, “Michael, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that to convince me.”

Michael squirmed nervously. He had an idea of what she wanted him to say but it was just so demeaning and just thinking about it brought back humiliating images in his head of that degrading experience.

He exhaled deeply and not able to look at her just spewed out the things he knew she wanted to hear knowing his masculinity, self-respect and dignity were being sucked out of him. It almost sounded like he was begging when in a rushed voice he spit it out, “Ms. Hansen could we please play doctor. I really want you to examine me just like the female doctor did during my physical. Please, Ms Hansen, please can we do it.”

Smugly, triumphantly with a noticeable smirk on her face Ms. Hansen said, “If that’s what you really want Michael, I’m agreeable. Shall we begin!”

Not waiting for him to respond she asked, “Michael, tell me more about this t-shirt gown the doctor made you wear?”

Blushing and in what could only be described as in a dispirited manner he explained, “The gown only came down to around my waist. So all of me below the waist was exposed to her during the physical. It was very embarrassing and belittling to be in the exam room with her for so long like that.”

As he was speaking Ms. Hansen conjured images of what that must have looked like, and the fact he paraded around in front of the female doctor like that during the exam. When Michael finished speaking she looked him right in the eye and said, “Michael go put on a t-shirt I want to see for myself what you're explaining.”

He knew she was determined and would have her way. So without saying anything he rose and headed for his room the towel held tighty around him.

When he finally came back and she actually saw what she imagined as he had described it, she thought it truly erotic. Even with his hands tightly clutched over his genitals, he appeared more exposed then when he was naked because her eyesight naturally went to the part of his body not covered by the gown. He may have been shielding his genitals, but his well-rounded backside was on full display.

She summoned him, “Come stand in front of me Michael.”

He slowly and awkwardly approached the chair where she was sitting. When he was in position she eyed him up and down. “Michael, stop being modest and put your hands at your side. How can I examine you? Did you do that with the doctor?” she said firmly.

Shamefaced, blushing a deep red and unable to look her in the eye, he moved his hands away leaving himself on display to her.

She went on, “So, I assume this is the way you were in front of the female doctor during the exam!” He didn’t answer. He just continued to look at the floor.

There he stood completely exposed to her, the t-shirt hiding nothing below his waist. He was a specimen. Ms. Hansen reveled in the control she possessed and the absurdity of the situation. Looking at Michael standing there in only his t-shirt with all of him below the waist exposed, Ms. Hansen had to admit this Dr. Bolton was really on to something. The t-shirt type of gown she made adult patients wear in her office had to be terribly humiliating and utterly demeaning when being in the presence of female medical staff.

After an awkward moment of her gawking at him she asked, “Michael, did the doctor examine your genitals? In a feeble defeated voice he simply replied “Yeah.”

With no hesitation Ms. Hansen reached out and cupped his scrotum which made him jump and he let out a childish whimper. She massaged each testicle and then slightly lifted both one at a time as if she was weighing them. She looked up at him and asked, “Did she do this to you?” Blushing profusely, he simply nodded his head.

Next, she squeezed a testicle and said in a serious sounding voice like a real doctor,” Michal turn your head and cough for me.” When he complied, she released her grip and squeezed his other sac saying, “Again.”

Ms. Hansen was really getting turned on. She felt like a real doctor having her way with her male patient. Wanting to add to his discomfort she teasingly said, “Did she check you like that too?”

Bringing back memories of that dreadful experience he closed his eyes tightly and again only nodded.

Ms. Hansen was getting wet between the legs as she continued. She released his testicle and took hold of his cock and began studying it intensely, moving it from side to side and up and down. She was methodological in her approach. Her actions were clinical not sexual.

She paid particular attention to the head. She laughed to herself thinking again like in the morning the glans looked like a mushroom. She noted the veins running along his penis. She looked up at him once again and asked with satisfaction, “Did the doctor check your penis like I am?” He was blushing profusely.

After studying and manipulating his cock she released it and her hand made its way around to his backside. Giving his cheek a firm squeeze she looked up at him and in a sultry voice asked, "Did she examine you back here?”

When he didn’t respond, sounding annoyed she said, “Well did she?”

“It-It-It was very embarrassing when she did that,” he admitted meekly.

“Did she stick her finger up inside your bottom? She inquired.

“Ms. Hansen, do we have to talk about this, it's humiliating and I’m ashamed of what happened,” he muttered.

“Well Michael, how can we recreate the exam she gave you if you don’t tell me what she did,” she shot back.

Michael appeared very uncomfortable. He fidgeted and shifted nervously. With his dignity shattered and shame showing all over his face in a cracking voice filled with trepidation it came out as if he finally was cleansing himself of a terrible secret he had kept inside.

When he spoke it came out quickly and unfiltered, “S-s-she made me get on the exam table on all fours. She not only stuck her finger inside me back there she put some type of instrument in me that opened me up. It was so demeaning and it was painful. I could hardly stand it. She talked to me while she was doing it and that was further embarrassment having to answer questions while her finger was inside of me. I felt like she took away the remaining little masculinity I had left. It was terrible!”

Ms. Hansen thought she was going to have an orgasm just listening to him relay the experience. She was so turned on and yearned to have her way with Michael’s ass the way the young female doctor did.

“Michael, kneel on the ottoman and put your hands on the floor,” she instructed him.

By this point Ms. Hansen had really worn him down and he had little resistance left in him but mustered the courage to ask, “Why, what are you going to do Ms. Hansen?”

Ms. Hansen in a confident and somewhat cheery tone said, “I’m going to give you a rectal exam just like the female doctor did.”

Michael’s head dropped in defeat and almost begging said, “Oh please Ms. Hansen, please don’t do that to me, please.”

Without any sympathy in her tone she responded, “Michael how can we recreate the exam you were given if we don’t do everything the doctor did?”

He thought about continuing to protest but he knew it was too late for that, he was in her little game so deep already. Swallowing hard he timidly complied with her directions. His self-esteem, dignity and any semblance of modesty were gone, stolen by this female tormentor.

As he got into the undignified position he watched her fetch the tube of lubricant lying next to the rectal thermometer. He knew what was coming but was no more prepared for it nevertheless.

Ms. Hansen found it titillating seeing him in that completely exposed position. She could not think of a more domineering act for the female giving and a more demeaning one for the male on the receiving end.

As she moved in behind him, she took a long moment to once again admire his backside. He was still pink from the spanking. The position she put him in spread his cheeks giving her a view of his back hole. She stooped slightly to visually inspect his testicles hanging low between his legs. She again noted how plump and hairy they were.

She reached out and spread his cheeks to get an even better view to inspect his back hole. Michael knowing he was powerless and fully at her mercy simply closed his eyes and tried to endure. “Did the doctor spread you like this, Michael?” she inquired.

He mumbled some incoherent response that she ignored. She was feeling totally empowered. Her sense of domination over Michael intensifying. She could do what she wanted to him. He couldn’t bear to think that she had an unfettered close-up view of and was inspecting his most private orifice.

A part of him wanted to tell her to stop, but he worried that the result of that would be worse than letting her play her game with him.

Anxiously she brought one finger to his sphincter and teased him moving the digit all around the opening. He took a deep breath feeling his cheeks burn with humiliation as she circled his back hole.

She next very slowly and methodically penetrated him. He let out a guttural sound but remained stoic. She explored his insides moving her finger around and deeper. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing something she dreamed about for a very long time. She could hardly contain herself.

She pushed deeper and finally hit his sweet spot. His whole body trembled, and he let out moans of pleasure. She noticed a definite stirring in his manhood. She continued to massage that special spot and was rewarded as he became progressively more turned on. He started rocking back and forth on her finger in a humping motion. By this time Michael’s cock stood straight out perfectly perpendicular to his body almost touching the ottoman, his hips were gyrating almost uncontrollably.

Ms. Hansen was certainly getting aroused herself. She leaned in and in an uncharacteristic sultry voice whispered, “Did the doctor examine you with her finger like this Michael?”

Her comment served to magnify his humiliating situation but at the same time the feeling of her finger inside him was soothing and stimulating. A part of him found it a turn on having his erect manhood on full display to Ms. Hansen and having her finger inside his rectum. He also felt completely submissive to her.

In this condition he had less inhibitions and surprised Ms. Hansen with a confession, “Yes, the doctor did examine me like you are. I had strange feelings and couldn’t control myself. I felt very foolish because I said some really silly things to her.”

“Like what Michael?” she pried as she massaged his prostate more robustly.

“I-I-I really don’t remember exactly. I just didn’t know what I was saying. It just came out. I kept saying, oh, oh doctor a number of times as she examined me. I also said something stupid like she was a very good doctor and I was glad she made me take off all my clothes for her exam. I also admitted I was enjoying the way she was checking me back there. That it didn’t hurt and it felt soothing to have her finger inside my bottom,” he almost eagerly volunteered.

He was starting to lose control. The room became a blur, and he felt like a teenager caught in a situation he hadn't the first clue how to navigate. The sounds of his pleasure grew louder, his hips flailing about. He felt his cheeks flush even more, his entire body convulsing and on fire with embarrassment and arousal.

Observing his response to her finger Ms. Hansen was becoming more engaged beyond the mechanical aspects of the activity. She began to massage his prostate even more robustly, her movements precise and deliberate.

He couldn't take it anymore. He thought he was going to explode in ecstasy at any moment. She paused for a moment, her eyes searching his. His reaction sent a thrill through her. It was as if she hadn't expected this, but she certainly wasn't displeased. It was an incredibly erotic experience.

With a slow, deliberate yet teasing movement she withdrew her finger from his back hole then pushed it back in again. She did this several times.

Then she withdrew her finger letting it hover close to his anal opening but this time she didn’t reenter him. His backside pushed upwards trying to find her finger. With her other hand she slightly tapped then squeezed his ass cheek. "All finished, you can get up Michael," she said, her voice laced with mockery.

He was in such an excited state he thought for a moment about begging her to continue exploring his insides. Again looking back at her over his shoulder and short of breath he blurted out, “Why did you stop?

Ms. Hansen, feeling full of herself decided to prolong his agony and sarcastically shot back, “Stop what?”

Frustrated, he responded, “You know.”

With torment in her voice she responded, “You tell me.”

Straining to speak he whimpered, “You know, e-e-examining me.”

She had him right where she wanted him and continued her intimidating talk, “Are you saying you want me to continue giving you a rectal exam?”

Struggling he blurted out, “Yes, yes, I do Ms. Hansen.”

“You want me to examine you again just like the female doctor did and stick my finger up inside your rectum again. You like it when I do that. Beg me to examine you again Michael,” she demanded.

He was so turned on and close to exploding as the intimate talk continued and her finger lingered near his opening he didn’t care how foolish or shameful he acted. Losing all sense of dignity he surprised even himself by resorting to pleading to get her to continue saying, “Please, please Ms. Hansen, stick your finger inside of me and give me a thorough examination, please do it. I need a thorough examination back there just like the doctor did during my physical.”

He couldn’t take it anymore and all of a sudden in a convulsion he had a powerful orgasm spewing his load all over the ottoman.

Completely emptied and exhausted he collapsed on the ottoman with his legs spread eagle. Ms. Hansen stood over him looking totally triumphant and with satisfaction showing on her face.

There was an eerie silence in the room for an uncomfortably long time. Ms. Hansen broke the silence by saying in a somewhat condescending tone, “You should go clean yourself up.” Eventually he rose and started to leave the room. Ms. Hansen marveled as his cock still erect bobbed violently glistening from his excretion as he walked making no effort to shield himself from her.

Ms. Hansen immediately went to her bedroom, took off her clothes, and pleasured herself to the strongest orgasm of her life. She was on cloud nine.

The next morning on the ride to the airport Ms. Hansen was still on a natural high. Due both to her triumph in the negotiations and even more satisfying her domination of and conquest over Michael the past few days. She also was feeling a little naughty and thought about continuing her antics with Michael on the plane trip.

When they boarded the private jet Michael was more than impressed. The inside of the plane was nothing like he had ever seen. It looked to him to be a cross between an office and a living room. There was no flight attendant but one of the pilots explained to them safety considerations and where refreshments were located. Ms. Hansen was thrilled because she had been on this type of airplane before and knew they would have privacy in the cabin. Ms. Hansen walked with the pilot back to the cockpit having a private conversation with him.

During the early part of the flight Ms. Hansen was preoccupied with follow-ups from the negotiations. After a while she put down her satellite phone and tablet and stretched, she next took off her suit jacket. She was disappointed her time with Michael was coming to an end.

She looked over at Michael who was sitting in a chair facing the settee where she was sitting and asked, “So Michael, what do you think I should tell Ms. Reese about your performance? You know she will be very interested in knowing.”

Michael sounded contrite in his reply, “I hope I did a good job. I know I had some mess-ups, but I tried my hardest to do better afterwards. I certainly learned a lot on the trip from you”

“Looking back on things, I would agree that you learned a lot,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. Then she continued, “By the way, how is your bottom doing? I noticed it was still sore yesterday evening.”

“I-I-I’m ok,” he sheepishly replied.

Faking concern Ms. Hansen said, “Hmm, you don’t sound like it’s ok. You better let me have a quick look.”

“It's alright, really Ms. Hansen.” he muttered.

Ms. Hansen responded, “Michael, I’ll be the judge of that. Stand up and come over here so I can have a look.”

Michael knew better than to object to her request, particularly now that the trip was ending and his actions would be fresh in Ms. Hansen’s mind when they got back home. Resigned to his fate, he felt that familiar blush rising up as he stood and moved closer to where Ms. Hansen was sitting. Without saying a word he turned and almost too quickly lowered his pants and underpants just enough to expose his backside.

Ms. Hansen with no hesitation tugged his lower garments down to his ankles in one swift motion. There he stood exposed once again to her.

Ms. Hansen felt that surge of authority and control as she took in the sight of his still pinkish backside. She never got tired of looking at his perfect bottom. After a quick visual inspection she reached out and ran her fingers over those two glorious cheeks. She then gave one of his cheeks a firm squeeze and exclaimed, “Michael, your skin feels awfully warm, are you feeling o.k.?”

“Yeah, I feel fine, Ms. Hansen” he muttered. “Can I pull up my pants now?"

“Michael, I think you have a fever. I should take your temperature. Go kneel on the chair and lean over the back, I’ll go get the thermometer,” she said assertively leaving no room for debate.

Michael was about to protest when he rationalized the situation that Ms. Hansen had already taken his temperature in this humiliating fashion. He could certainly endure it one last time.

As he started to shuffle toward the chair with his lower garments pooled around his ankles Ms. Hansen found it hysterical and in a lighthearted, yet firm tone said, “Michael, stop being silly and remove the clothes around your ankle, you look like a penguin.”

He obeyed, and after taking off his shoes and stepping out of his lower garments mounted the chair as directed. After watching him with amusement Ms. Hanen went to her purse and retrieved the trusty thermometer and lube. She also brought another object that she kept hidden from Michael’s view.

She pulled an ottoman over in front of the chair and sat on it. Michael’s backside was at eye level and just a couple of feet away. She took a moment to take in the scene. Michael’s head was resting on the top of the back of the chair and he seemed docile, almost submissive and accepting.

The angle his body was in made his backside stick out and from her vantage point she had an unfettered view of his back hole and his hairy testicles hanging below.

She next spread him even wider than his position did and after eying his sphincter lubed his back hole with a finger from the other hand. She then inserted into his rectum not the thermometer but a small feminist flag on a dowel. The flag had the symbol for a female with a clenched fist in the circle of the symbol. She then gave his left ass cheek a slight squeeze and in a clinical tone said, “Michael hold still while the instrument registers.”

She next stealthy reached behind her and picked up her phone. She quickly in succession took photos of the flag sticking out of him clearing her throat each time she snapped a picture so he wouldn’t hear the camera noise. She was thrilled she successfully pulled off the plan she had concocted earlier in the day.

During the silence while he thought they were waiting for the thermometer to register, Michael actually initiated conversation that when Ms. Hansen thought back to the trip in the future she would find the most arousing of all the titillating experiences she had with Michael. Michael turned his head to look back over his shoulder at her and said, “Ms. Hansen I really enjoyed working for you and I learned a tremendous amount watching you in the meetings.”

Ms. Hansen responded, “Well Michael I’m glad to hear that. I do think you were able to learn much and have new experiences during the trip. Maybe there will be an opportunity for you to work for me on another project.”

“Oh, that would be great Ms. Hansen, I would really enjoy that,” he responded enthusiastically.

It was certainly not lost on Ms. Hansen how ludicrous the situation was. Her and Michael were having this conversation while he was bottomless with his backside on full display and as a domination stunt he had this unusual item sticking out of his rectum. She was in femdom heaven!

When sufficient time was up Ms. Hansen pulled the flag out and swapped the thermometer for the flag in her hand as Michael pulled himself together under her watchful eyes. She fibbed, reporting his temperature was slightly elevated.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Both Ms. Hansen and Michael had rich experiences to occupy their thoughts for a long time to come.

Postscript

When Michael was back at work Ms. Reese had him give her a full and detailed rundown on what took place during the trip. He was nervous Ms. Hansen would be speaking to Ms. Reese too so he knew he had to tell her about all the embarrassing activities he was subjected to. He tried to whitewash these as much as possible, fearful not that Ms. Hansen would be surprised or upset about what Ms. Hansen did to him, but more that Ms. Reese would get the impression Ms. Hansen did these things because he didn’t perform well

Ms. Reese was intrigued and made him explain in more detail what took place. She was surprised, but surprised in a good way. She also found what he told her enlightening and very stimulating. Michael told her things Ms. Hansen did to him that Ms. Reese found a real turn on. What excellent ideas for her to expand her own domination activities with Michael she thought. But that is for another chapter!