Belinda - The Submissive Slut

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

To Belinda R., who in her heart is the submissive slut in this story. Enjoy!

Mistress SWP

Dean Franklin was a supervisor in Internal Audit. That was like saying he was a member of the company's secret police. People in corporate were in fear of the Internal Audit department, and for good reason. The head of the company came from Internal Audit, and the current manager was his hand-picked successor. If you went cross-wise with them, your career could end up in a cardboard box the following business day.

One of Dean's tasks was tracking the flow of money in and out of the company. He reviewed the cash flow reports every evening. Interesting? Of course it wasn't. It was mind numbing work reviewing reams of reports. Dean's mind often drifted at work, thinking about his ex-girlfriend, or just about sex in general.

Dean was a good looking guy, a shade over six feet tall, dark wavy hair, and a slightly crooked smile. He had his share of girlfriends and fuck buddies, but his latest flame, Laurel, a brunette hottie in the Sales department, had broken up with him not more than a month ago, leaving him with a fresh wound to deal with. Turns out that Laurel decided she liked girls better, and dropped him in favor of a cute administrative assistant in Legal, Natalie, or a name like that. It seemed to him that everyone in the office knew that he was dumped by his girlfriend for another woman. There was a big downside to office romances, and Dean was feeling the brunt of it. He vowed he wouldn't fish in his own pond again. It was a vow that was bound to be broken.

Post-breakup was a tough period for Dean. Laurel loved sex, and most weeks they would have sex at least a half dozen times. She had long, curly reddish brown hair, Irish skin, lily white and freckled, big, pointy, saggy tits and a matching bush, untrimmed. Overall, Dean and Laurel had a great relationship. They had a number of common interests, among them backpacking and cooking (but you weren't reading this story to hear the details of that). Dean thought that their sex life was fantastic. She was everything that Dean could have dreamt of - able to deep throat, offer occasional anal sex, and constantly horny. Laurel wasn't quite as complimentary. Dean was a typical guy and Laurel knew how to please a typical guy. But she needed more, emotionally, and when she met Natalie at a firm party she knew she had to make a change.

So the break-up was tough on Dean. He started drinking a bit more and was getting high every night, watching porn and masturbating. He started watching domination videos almost to the exclusion of others. His search words were "spanking, domination, deep throat" and the like. Men spanking women with a hairbrush, throat fucking, and anal penetration stirred him. Maybe it was the fact that Dean was so recently rejected for another woman that he needed to feel in control.

Dean lived in the suburbs by using an inheritance from a great aunt, purchasing a modest ranch house. He lived in relative isolation from most of his friends, who still lived in the big city. His life was meandering, directionless, and was likely to remain so if he remained in this funk.

* * *

Dean looked at the small, fake Christmas tree sitting on the corner of his desk, a gift from a recent "Secret Santa" gift exchange. The annual holiday party was only two weeks away. He was looking forward to the party. It had now been two months since Laurel left him for Natalie and he was hoping to make a fresh start. There were always loads of eligible women at the company, and the Christmas party was the best place to hook up. Two weeks. Then Dean looked at the stack of reports that was put on his desk that morning. He needed to review the stack by the end of the day and he would have to work almost every fucking minute to get out at a decent hour.

He peeled the top report off the stack and flipped through endless pages of numbers on green and white computer paper. He had a company chart of accounts sitting next to him. He spent a good part of his time just looking up the acronyms and short descriptions of the endless abbreviations. It took him fifteen minutes to review the first report and he noted no exceptions for his daily report. He tossed the report in the "read" pile and took the second. This process continued for two consecutive hours before he took a restroom break and got some coffee. Then back to the pile, a tedious chore, until it was 10:30 p.m., when he finally got to the last one in the pile. It was the Weekly Cash Report, which summarized the movements of cash over $10,000. That included vendor payments and credit memos issued to customers.

His eyes were getting blurry and he wanted nothing more than to get home and smoke a joint and go to sleep. There were only a handful of exceptions he noted from all the previous reports, and this report looked clean to him. When he got to the list of credit memos, one entry stood out. The name on the list, Yellow Blossom, caught his eye because he hadn't seen that name before. There was a $10,000 credit issued to that company. Dean sorted through a jumble of reports sitting in his "read" pile to find the one with the list of approved vendors. He flipped through the report to the "Y"s and saw Yellow Blossom wasn't on that list. He wrote the information on his pad so he could research the origins of that accounting entry. He was completely spent, and grabbed his coat and went home.

* * *

Dean woke the next morning refreshed. It was good for him to work hard the previous day so he couldn't think about Laurel or about sex. That only got him frustrated and angry. It was a cold, crisp morning, and he took his Camry through its paces through the country roads connecting his suburb to the downtown area. He parked in the surface lot of his office building, his breath billowing as he locked his car. He went into his office and saw his note about Yellow Blossom. "Fuck" he said to himself. He forgot about that. He only had two hours to finalize his memo on the exceptions he found from his review of the reports.

He picked up his handwritten notes and put them next to his keyboard. He searched the firm database for ten minutes before he found the credit memo in question. He looked at the originating party of the credit memo - B. Yates. He didn't immediately recognize the name so he went to the online corporate directory and searched the last name. Two names came up:

Barney Yates - Accounts Payable Manager

Belinda Yates - Customer Service Manager

The credit memo could have been issued by either accounts payable or customer service, so he called Barney Yates first. It turned out that Barney was out on medical leave going on three weeks when the credit memo was issued, and wasn't due to be back for another three weeks. That meant that Belinda was his person. He looked at his watch. He already burned twenty minutes of his two hours. He needed to get a hold of Belinda and get this exception nailed down pronto. He was certain there was some logical reason for the discrepancy.

Belinda ... Belinda ... the name rattled in his mind until he thought about last year's Christmas party. One of the better office parties he'd been to, they had an open bar at one of the new, hot restaurants in town. The company usually had an extravagant party, but given the particularly good year it had, it went all out. Silver punch bowls overflowing with jumbo shrimp. Platters of shucked oysters. Carving stations for ham, turkey and roast beef. French pastries. A bar featuring upgraded hard liquor and wine. By eleven, everyone was drunk, high or both.

There was sex going on - in the restaurant's closets, pantries and bathrooms. Belinda ... now he remembered. He went into the men's room to take a leak and noticed three men standing in line in front of the oversized handicapped stall. In that far stall a woman was on her knees with her back to them. She had short blonde hair and wire rim glasses perched on a rounded face. Her huge tits were bouncing in time with her head, which was gliding up and down a man's cock. The man, Dean recognized him as Glen in Shipping and Receiving, was sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles receiving a first class blowjob.

There were three men in line watching and waiting their turn. Two men Dean didn't recognize and a third that he thought he did.

"You're Rob in Legal, right?" Dean asked in a hushed tone, his eyes not straying from the carnal act he was witnessing. The woman was hard at work, stroking Glen's penis with her right hand. She took off her glasses, placing them carefully on the tile floor, and wedged her head between his crotch and the toilet seat so she could lick his balls.

"Art, close enough," he chuckled. He was watching as well, and it was obvious he had a huge boner.

"So what's going on?" Dean asked, knowing of course part of the story because he was seeing it with his own eyes. Dean could hear Glen groaning as the whorish woman kept lapping at his balls.

"It's Belinda in Customer Service. She's been in there for about a half an hour. Did you want to get in line behind me?" he asked politely.

They were both watching Belinda perform her chore, sucking off Glen with gusto. Dean was fascinated with his visual, Belinda naked from the waist up, the harsh lights of the restroom reflecting off the creamy skin of her back, and the bright red bottoms of her black high heels, pointed toe down, as she fellated her co-worker. Her head was almost a blur and her bleach blonde hair was flying about as Glen extended his legs outward and grunted. Both Dean and Art reflexively shuddered as Glen's cum sprayed all over Belinda's face. The men giggled nervously, causing Belinda to turn her head, covered in cum that was dripping onto her massive tits.

Dean had to resist the urge to jack off while Belinda was giving Glen a blow job. When she finished, the look on her cum covered face was the same look he had seen in the amateur BDSM videos he loved watching. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. For a moment, it seemed as if only the two of them were in the room. Then as she turned away, Dean felt the urge to leave. Laurel was waiting for him at a table, and he'd been gone for five minutes.

Now Dean was about to go to her office. "Belinda Yates - Customer Service Manager," was emblazoned on the glass panel of her wooden office door. He could see through the window that she was talking to someone on the phone with her back to the door. He waited patiently for a minute, and when she continued to talk, he tapped lightly on the glass. She swiveled around in her chair, and seeing a face through the glass panel, signaled for Dean to enter her office. She turned her back to the door again to finish her call. Dean entered the office and sat down in one of the guest chairs.

" ... so the soonest you'll see an adjustment will be in about two weeks. We need to verify your complaint with QC and if your story checks out we'll credit your account with $4,000."

There was a pause.

"You're welcome. My pleasure." She hung up her phone and used her feet to swing her desk chair around to face her visitor. As soon as she recognized Dean her face became ashen.

"You're ... you're Dean ... Dean in Internal Audit." Her voice quivered.

"That's right. I've just got a few questions. It'll only take a minute." He tried to put her at ease. Dean had heard and seen that reaction in response to his visits, but he was mistaken as to why.

"The Christmas party ... , " Belinda said in a voice so low Dean strained to hear her. She lowered her eyes so she was looking at her desk.

He straightened up in his chair. He always wondered if she recognized him that night. He thought maybe not because the evening must have been a blur to her. But she did. He didn't know what to say next so he waited for her to continue.

"I'm ... I'm so ashamed ... I was so drunk ... it was so unlike me ...". She started to silently sob at her desk, her body heaving.

Dean was so disarmed by her display of emotion that he forgot why he was in her office. A folder was sitting in his lap, and when he saw it he was reminded of the $10,000 credit memo he meant to ask her about.

"Belinda ... I'm not here about that." He waited for her to collect herself. "I just wanted to ask about the $10,000 credit that was issued last week to Yellow Blossom Trading. I know we routinely issue large credits to clients, but this one caught my eye because the firm isn't on the approved list of vendors."

Belinda dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Did I do that?" she asked, suggesting she didn't.

Dean's antenna went up. How could she have forgotten so quickly? She was hiding something. Maybe she brought up the bathroom incident to distract him. Suddenly his sympathy turned to suspicion. He reached in his folder and produced a copy of the credit memo.

"That's your signature, isn't it? B. Yates?"

Belinda leaned over the desk. Dean couldn't help but notice that he could see down her dress. Her ample breasts produced a deep valley between them. Dean couldn't believe his trousers were stirring as he was about to accuse her of embezzling ten thousand dollars, and possibly much more.

"Yes," she replied.

Dean was startled by the sound of her voice. He was so mesmerized by her breasts, jiggling under the sexy blouse she was wearing, almost sheer and showing the outline of her bra, that he forgot he asked a question.

"Excuse me?" he asked, feeling stupid.

"The signature. It's mine."

"Oh yes, thank you." Dean put the piece of paper back in his folder. He reached into the folder and handed over the other sheet of paper that was in it. All of the blood drained out of Belinda's face when she saw it.

"It's the charter for Yellow Blossom. Look at the name of the lead incorporator - B. Yates. Is that you?" Dean decided to do a bit of homework before he visited her. He found the information he was looking for quite easily on the internet. Belinda was sloppy at covering her tracks.

"Yes," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry. She took a moment to compose herself. "I've had some credit card issues. I promise I'll pay all the money back."

The mood became somber. Dean's voice became more formal. "I'm sorry. Company policy requires me to report you immediately to HR. It's really out of my hands now."

Belinda reached across the desk and grasped Dean's arm. The top button on her blouse opened and her bra was in plain sight. Dean couldn't pull his eyes away from her chest.

"Dean ... I need this job ... and I can't go to jail. I'll do anything." She walked around her desk and dropped to her knees in front of him. She put her hand on the crotch of his pants. She felt that he was hard. "I mean anything."

Dean looked down at Belinda. He wanted to pull her up off the ground, but he was looking at her full breasts, so white, the valley between them so deep. Dean put his hand forward tentatively, as if he was about to touch a hot stove, until he was able to brush his fingertips against the side of her breast. It was ambrosia for him, the soft, smooth skin covering the melon shaped breast. Belinda pushed her chest against his hand, welcoming his touch.

"Anything?" Dean wanted confirmation and to hear it again. How many times does a beautiful, sexy woman tell you she's willing to do anything? Dean thought the line was only uttered in porn videos and kinky romance novels. He couldn't believe he was in the catbird's seat.

Belinda reached for Dean's hand and shoved it inside her blouse and under her bra. Dean could feel her long nipple harden with his touch. He squeezed the DD cup breast, letting his hand linger for an extended feel.

"Anything."

Belinda found her voice. It rang clear in the small office. Kneeling, she looked up at him with her baby blue eyes.

"Let me think about it."

Then a wicked idea entered his mind. "Why don't you leave your panties in the last stall in the men's room on this floor? If you do that I might be inclined to work something out with you." Dean now had every intention of working something out. Every cell in his body felt alive, for the first time in as long as he could remember.

"The men's room?"

"HR is only one floor away."

There was a long pause. "When?"

"In the next ten minutes. Figure it out." Dean got out of his chair, ran his hand through Belinda's glossy bleach blonde hair, and left her office without looking back at her.

* * *

Belinda had a dilemma. How would she get into the men's room without being noticed? There were many office cubes located nearby, and this was the only men's room on her side of the floor. Since the women's restroom was located across the hall from the men's, she wandered over to the women's and intentionally dropped her pen on the floor. She went to one knee to retrieve it, and stayed in that position until she saw someone leaving the men's room. She stayed there for what felt like an eternity, watching the men's room door. No one had entered since she arrived, so she figured the person that left was the only man in there.

She steeled herself, then dashed into the men's room. There was a line of sinks along the right wall, then a wing wall separating the sinks from the urinals. Belinda was relieved that no one was there. As she passed the urinals, there was a line of three stalls. The first and second doors were half open, but the third stall, the larger handicapped stall, was occupied. Belinda had no choice but to go into the second stall and close the door and to wait until the person vacated the handicapped stall. Thankfully, it wasn't more than a minute until she heard the toilet flush, the man fastening his pants and belt, and then the stall door open. Belinda's knees were shaking.

As soon as she heard him wash his hands, then leave, she quickly left her stall and went into the handicapped one. She sat on the toilet and peeled off her dark red bikini underwear and left them inside the stainless steel toilet paper holder. The cold air on her wet pussy made her shudder. Not hearing any noises, she dashed out of the stall towards the door. As she was about to pull open the door, it swung open. She couldn't believe her bad fortune. It was Greg in Shipping and Receiving. His bright red hair made him easy to identify. His eyes raked over Belinda's curvy body.

"Get lost Belinda?"

"Y ... Y ... Yes ..." she stammered, her face reddening with embarrassment.

"I loved the Christmas party." Greg delivered his smarmy observation with his eyes fixated on Belinda's abundant breasts. "Did you want to go in one of the stalls for an encore?"

Belinda shook her head. "I'm ... I'm not that kind of girl."

Greg stood closer, so close that Belinda started to shrink away. Greg grabbed the collar of her blouse. "You are definitely that kind of girl. But you're lucky. I have to be someplace in ten minutes so I'll take a rain check." He let go of her collar and stepped aside to allow her to leave. Belinda rushed back to her office, panting. She shut the door behind her and slumped in her office chair, relieved and excited. Her heart was racing. She couldn't help herself, and her fingers wandered under her skirt to her pantyless crotch, sensing the moist heat emanating from her pussy. She stroked the slippery folds along their length, then let her slickened fingers circle her hardened nub.

The embarrassment and humiliation of going into the men's bathroom and stripping off her panties, then running into Greg on the way out, had energized her body. As her fingers performed their familiar dance on her clit, her head fell back and she bit her lip as a powerful orgasm ripped through her, literally taking her breath away. A small trickle of blood ran down her chin from the small bite mark in her lip.