My boss was talking at me again but I wasn't listening. I filtered out his dull monotone, as per usual, allowing myself to catch the odd word or phrase in case he paused for my approval or some grunt of acknowledgment from me of understanding and comprehension. He hardly ever did but I still had my radar out for buzzwords and company catchphrases.
I watched his dull mouth with its perfect teeth flap, his eyes wide like a calf being led to slaughter. Wet tacky pupils reflecting the cold glow of his TFT that no doubt displayed the ubiquitous spreadsheet which gave birth to these motivational monologues.
I wondered what it would be like to be spit-roasted. Down on all fours, knees sunken in plush carpet, legs spread wide, back arched. One killer heel discarded, the remnants of a hit and run on the catwalk, the second still clinging to my left foot. Stockings laddered and torn, thong pulled to one side, bra open and hanging from my chest as I'm filled to bursting point from both ends.
Two faceless hard and glistening bodies thrusting their wide angry cocks into my willing body. The taste of cum at the back of my throat, my tight pussy burning and slick from spit and lube.
I felt my own cock stir in the Sloggi's I'd pulled on before rushing out the house this morning, savouring the sensation of strained muscle tugging hard against the restrictive fabric of my panties.
I knew spit-roasting was a distant and perhaps even impossible fantasy but then that was what made fantasies so powerful. The realisation they may never be fulfilled.
I had a sense I needed to be trained first. Gently moulded and plied; stretched and cajoled into being the girl I so desperately desired to be. Taken under the wing of someone gentle but firm, someone who knew how a good girl should act and be treated.
I imagined my heart pounding as I knocked on their door for the first time. My cock shrunken with fear in my panties, climbing up inside of my body as I sometimes wished it would. Jumping out of my skin as the door opened and they stood there.
"Amber?"
Just a nod, terrified my voice would crack and give my nervousness away?
"Come in." Stepping over the threshold into the house of someone I'd chatted to so many times online, fantasised about as I lay there struggling to get to sleep. Painfully aware of how heavily my 'maleness' was being scrutinised and assessed with regards to how easily it could be stripped away from me. Feeling that no amount of make-up or fancy clothing was going to be good enough to even pass muster under that steely gaze.
"This way." Led into the front room. Wooden polished floorboards. Curtains open, daylight streaming in through flimsy lace drapes. The world carrying on as normal on the street outside. My world on the cusp of collapsing and altering irretrievably around me.
"Stand there, I'll be back in a minute," pointing to a spot in the centre of the room, "no, not there. An inch or two over to the left please." The 'please' polite enough but like a school teacher, firm and with the unspoken implication that any real choice on my part was not really up for negotiation. I shuffled over and got my first smile as a reward. "Good girl. This could work. Maybe."
They left the room and me, swaying slightly afraid I might faint, stood facing the door they exited from. A clock ticked somewhere on the wall behind me and I wanted to turn toward it and count the interminable seconds as I waited but already I had a sense I should be obeying and not doing anything without invitation or a cue to do so first.
I lost count somewhere around the 500 mark, the clock slowly drowned out by the creak of floorboards in unseen rooms, doors opening, footfalls in the hallway outside the room. Twice I saw the door handle begin to turn and my heart leapt into my mouth but both times they obviously thought better than to come back into the room or remembered they had something else to attend to before me.
My body felt as if was tingling with electricity. The bag on my back, containing my meagre wardrobe and the shoddy wig I'd regretted buying the instance I'd greedily torn it from it's packaging, was like a sack of lead pressing down on me. I prayed for the door to open and to get some idea of what might happen next but equally I also just wanted to open the window, climb out and run away as fast as my legs could carry me.
It was almost as if they could sense I was on the verge of wavering, knew what thoughts were running through my mind. Because that was when the door opened and they stepped back into the room.
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