Femdom Futanari E-Book

Gia Maria Marquez

• Herausgeber: Between the Two
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Femdom Futanari

Leseprobe

Femdom Futanari

© April 2017 Gia Maria Marquez

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

Cover © 2017 Gia Maria Marquez

First Edition 2017

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

Femdom Futanari

Six Sexy Stories

By

Gia Maria Marquez

Skip to:

Dave’s Not Here, Ma’am

Watching My Futa Wife

Bluebeard’s Futa

Futa Club Threesome

Teacher’s Pet Futa

Femdom Futa and the Cheating Ex

Dave’s Not Here, Ma’am

Spanked by the Futa Boss

He waited until everyone had gone home for the evening.

The receptionist cleared out first. Then the assistants, then accounting. Sales were a tricky bunch. Sometimes they worked late into the night, if they were falling being on quotas. But it had been a strong month, so they went out for drinks. They even asked Dave along.

Any other day, he’d have said yes. He loved feeling included.

But tonight he had plans of his own.

The last to leave was his boss, Ms. Heartland. She sometimes stayed even later than the sales force. Around quarter to six, Dave knocked on her door and asked, “Didn’t you have that thing tonight?”

“That thing?” She looked up at him from behind her desk, confounded, like she couldn’t keep track of her own schedule once her assistant had left for the night. “Oh, that thing. No, that fell through.”

Damn it! Dave was counting on her to go so he could get changed in his office. Now he’d have to do it in the restroom and sneak past her office without her seeing.

Ms. Heartland gazed at Dave with her dark-rimmed glasses halfway down the bridge of her nose. He had to admit, she looked good like that: with her mahogany hair dancing on her shoulders, her tailored suit jacked slung across one of her client chairs, her blue shirt casually unbuttoned enough that her cleavage peeked out. She was always so buttoned up during office hours. This end-of-the-day style worked for her.

Glancing at her silver-toned watch, she said, “I guess I should get going. Someone’s got to feed the fish.”

She always joked about being single, but not being a cat lady.

Ms. Heartland had fish instead of cats.

“See you tomorrow,” Dave said, trying to suppress the giddiness bubbling up inside him. “Have a great night!”

Before heading out, she poked her head into his office and said, “Almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Not at all, not at all! Just happy it’s Thursday. Good TV night, Thursday.”

Ms. Heartland cocked her head and said, “Okaaay… well, bye then.”

He sat totally still as he listened to her heels click-clacking along the flooring in the back corridor. The rest of the place was carpeted, but since their offices were so far from the front door, they always snuck out the back way.

Dave listened to the door opening, then closing slowly.

His heart raced.

He couldn’t wait to get started.

But he did wait. There was always a chance Ms. Heartland had forgotten something. He paced the office for fifteen minutes, but he couldn’t hold off any longer. He pulled out the suitcase he’d smuggled in early that morning, lifted it onto his cleared-off desk, and unzipped.

Everything smelled like perfume: his signature scent. Some of the people he partied with on Thursday nights said they could smell him a mile away, but he took that as a compliment—however it was intended. There was nothing more evocative than the silky aroma of a sensual perfume.

His hands shook as he undressed. He was just that excited.

Slinging his shirt and pants over his office chair, he peered inside his suitcase. Panties first. He’d brought three pairs to choose from, but he knew he’d get nervous about staying tucked and end up wearing all three at once. Regardless, he started with just the stretchy black pair. They were unforgivingly tight—so much so his belly popped out the top. But they felt good on, and they looked good too. His crotch even looked fairly flat once he’d tucked away what he didn’t want to see.

He put the purple pair on over the black pair, and the red ones on over those. Ooh, that was a very tight squeeze, but when he ran his hand over his crotch, it felt womanly in the extreme. That would hold all night long, if it needed to.

Next, a spritz of perfume.

Oh, that was strong. Filled the office with a lusty aroma. But it would dissipate in time, hopefully before everybody got in the next morning. If it didn’t, Ms. Heartland would probably think he’d had a woman in his office afterhours. Imagine that!

His bra was black, but utilitarian. It came with breasts already inside, but he taped together his manboobs to give the illusion of cleavage. Fat was good for something, if you knew how to use it.

When he was packing his bag, he couldn’t decide on an outfit. He’d included a wide variety of skirts and dresses, ranging from randy to refined. He went middle-of-the-road with a sheer white top over a black lace camisole. He paired that with a tight-fitting black skirt, but not before running a pair of silk stockings up his shaved legs.

Oh, that looked good. Felt good, too. He loved the way those layers of tight panties kept everything in place, and how the skirt gripped his backside like two hands squeezing his ass.

If only he had a woman in his life: a mature woman, maybe someone older, who’d been around the block and recognized his love of ladies’ clothes for what it was.

A woman who was as turned on by the same things that turned him on.

A woman with a firm hand.

That’s what Dave wanted.

His toenails were painted red, but nobody would ever know that once he’d put on his high-heeled shoes. He would know how stunning his toes looked, though, and sometimes that was enough. The little things, like painted toenails or pretty panties, often got him through a long day at work.

Damn, he should have shaved before getting dressed. That was stupid. He must have been especially frazzled by his boss sticking around. Usually he didn’t make these mistakes.

But he’d brought a towel along, so he took his shaving kit and makeup bag to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. The cleaning staff didn’t usually come around until after eleven, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

He draped his towel across his full chest, and his big breast held it in place. Perfect. Now he wouldn’t end up spilling any shaving cream down his top.

Once his face was smooth as a baby’s butt, he ran his lotions and potions over his skin. The friends he’d be meeting in the hotel lounge often asked how he managed such a close shave with no telltale bumps. That was Dave’s little secret. He didn’t have much leverage over younger dressers and those with slimmer figures. Maybe that’s why he guarded his proprietary blend so closely.

Makeup was next. He used to rush through it, but he’d learned that a slow hand made all the difference.

Foundation, powder, eyeliner, shadow, a bit of blush—not too much—then lipstick with a touch of gloss. When he was done, he looked like an entirely different person. But he didn’t look complete. Not until he put on his wig.

Blondes have more fun. That’s why he’d gone with the long blonde wig. It even had a few lowlights mixed in so the hair didn’t look like something you’d find growing out of Barbie’s plastic head.

Gentle wheat-coloured waves tumbled against Dave’s large breasts as he fluttered around his office, making sure he had money in his small purse. There were often men at the lounge who would buy them drinks, but Dave wasn’t keen on men, so it felt like stealing. He’d rather buy his own.

His heart trembled as he asked himself if he’d forgotten anything. It was always useful to do a double-check before heading out into the night.

Shoes on his feet, stocking on his legs, three pairs of panties, tight skirt, bra, blouse, makeup, wig, purse.

That was it. Ready to go.

But the moment he gripped the handle on his office door, he thought he heard something out in the carpeted area. Could be the cleaners. There was always a chance they’d come around early. But he couldn’t hear that push-cart they always had with them. He couldn’t hear them talking to each other. They always travelled in pairs, for safety’s sake.

Dave listened keenly. His body went on high-alert. Every muscles locked as his veins filled with ice. There was definitely somebody out there. But who?

Suddenly Dave’s door opened inward. It whacked him in the chest and he lost his footing, fell backwards onto the floor—fell right on his ass.

There he sat, both hands behind him, both legs parted, knees in the air. He felt practically crustacean as his boss swanned into the room.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Dave had to admit, Ms. Heartland looked very pretty like that, with her lips parted into a luscious O and her shoulders back, nostrils flared.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What are you doing in Dave’s office? Where’s Dave?”

Surely she must know…

Surely she must realize this was Dave, right here on the floor. Under all these layers of panties and makeup, he was there.

But maybe she didn’t. Maybe it wouldn’t cross the mind of a woman like Ms. Heartland that someone in her office would don ladies’ garments every Thursday night and go out on the town.

So Dave said the first thing that popped into his head, which, comically, was: “Dave’s not here, Ma’am.”

“Dave’s not here?” she answered back. “Well, where is he?”

“Gone,” Dave said, pushing his voice into the highest register it could manage. “He left. Dave has left the building.”

Ms. Heartland shook her head. “Well, who are you? What are you doing in his office?”

“I’m… Sheila? And I’m… waiting for him?”

That was a stupid thing to say. And, sure enough, Ms. Heartland asked, “Well, when is he coming back?”

“Later,” Dave said. “Much later. You won’t want to wait that long.”

“Why are you waiting that long?”

“Because...” Think of an excuse, Dave! Fast! “I’m not waiting. I was just about to leave.”

It would help if he could get up off the floor.

But he couldn’t.

He struggled, flip-flopping side to side like a turtle tossed on its shell. He figured Ms. Heartland would extend a hand to help him up, but instead she blocked his office door and said, “You’re not going anywhere, Missy! Not until you explain why Dave would leave a stranger alone in his office. That’s a serious security breach.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Dave said. “I’m his… sister?”

Ms. Heartland raised an eyebrow. “Dave doesn’t have a sister.”

“I meant cousin.”

“You said sister when you meant cousin?”

“We’re very close,” Dave said. “He’s always been like a sister to me.”

“Don’t you mean you’ve been like a sister to him?”

“That too.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to hang out in his office unsupervised. There’s a lot of sensitive information in here.”

Dave started to feel panicky, like he really was this Sheila person who shouldn’t be left alone in Dave’s office. “I’m not looking at anything. I was really just leaving.”

Grabbing the edge of his desk, Dave managed to pull himself to his feet. As soon as he was upright, Ms. Heartland closed the door, trapping them both in the office.

Having the door closed made Dave feel suddenly claustrophobic.

“Not so fast,” Ms. Heartland said. “Someone needs to be punished for this security breach, and since Dave’s not here it’ll have to be you.”

“Punished?” Dave cried, a little deeper down in his register than he meant to. “Punished how?”

Ms. Heartland looked around the office. Dave had zipped up his suitcase and hidden it in the space under his desk, and since he’d cleared everything onto the windowsill earlier, his desk was now totally bare.

Marching around the office, Ms. Heartland tapped at Dave’s pens, pencils and the other utilitarian office necessities he stashed in a chipped mug. From it, she plucked a gunmetal grey ruler with cork lining the reverse side.

For a moment, she just looked at the black notches and numbers.

Then she tapped the cork side against her palm.

Then she slapped it against the desk.

“Bend over, Sheila.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Ms. Heartland said. “Bend your ass over this desk before I get angry.”

“Don’t get angry,” Dave said, feeling a combination of apprehension and apology. “I’ll do it. I’m doing it. See?”

He bent over his desk, feeling his breasts pressing into his chest. He felt very exposed with his ass in the air, but he didn’t even consider going against his boss’ commandments. He could easily have confessed everything, but he had a creeping sense that this would be better.

“Have you ever been punished by a ruler?” Ms. Heartland asked.

“Punished how?” he asked, suddenly remembering the Johnny Deeper joke kids used to tell in school.

“Spanked,” she said. “Smacked. Slapped.”

“Oh. No. Never.”

She whapped his ass with the cork side, but under a skirt and three pairs of panties, he couldn’t really feel it.

“How was that?” Ms. Heartland asked. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“I suppose so.”

She tsked her teeth. “That’s as good as a no. Let’s try this again.”

Flipping the ruler around, she smacked his ass with the metal side.

“Still nothing?”

He decided to be somewhat honest. “I think I’m wearing too many layers.”

“Too many layers?” Ms. Heartland asked. “How many layers?”

“One skirt,” he said. “Three pairs of panties.”

“Three pairs of panties!?!”

“I need all three,” he explained.

Ms. Heartland grunted. “I see.” Setting the ruler down on the desk, she said, “I think you might have to pull up that skirt, Missy.”

“Okay…”

“And I think I might have to roll up my sleeves.”

Dave turned just in time to catch his boss slipping off her suit jacket and tossing it over his office chair, right where he’d tossed his work clothes before packing them away in his luggage. She then unbuttoned the cuffs of the blue shirt and rolled each one up to her elbows.

She really took her time doing it, too, and every second spent watching her made Dave’s crotch a little warmer. Sure his penis was tucked away, but he could still feel aroused. Instead of getting hard, he got wet. Natural lubrication drizzled from his cockhead, soaking through one, then two, then all three layers of panties while he pulled his skirt all the way up to his hips.

“Nice ass,” Ms. Heartland said.

“They’re panties,” Dave replied, his heart pounding in his throat.

“Nice panties, then.” She shot him a smile that could almost be interpreted as loving. But just as quickly, her expression hardened. She grabbed the ruler and whapped his ass with it in a perfect backhand.