A Change In Perspective by East Coast Guy      So amazing

A Change In Perspective by East Coast Guy      So amazing

A Change In Perspective

by East Coast Guy

So amazing, yet so intoxicating, I standing here in his office, before my boss,

a man I had considered truly to be the man of men, I clad only in the silky

little slip he loved so much, the one which he had actually requested that I

wear to this party, my nipples now protruding through the sheer, silky fabric

and I, in total anticipation, given the suddenness of recent events, trying to

collect my thoughts, trying desperately not to act out on my impulses, those

impulses now so strong and driving me toward behaviour I deemed rash, I wanting

to reach out, and he, showing his tribute, so intoxicated with me in anything

silky, having always loved to run his hands over my silky frame, his wife always

in the main room, unaware, fully caught up mingling and entertaining their

guests, their mutual friends, my dress having been removed and strewn over the

arms of his immense Captain's chair, he standing before me as usual, in front of

the imposing oak desk from which he had so ruled his world, our world, my world,

since I'd begun working for him a few years ago, four to be exact, he drinking

in my form, a form which, I am proud to say, and not a bit shy about it, I am

ever so proud of, as I work hard to maintain my shape and, although not

muscular, and truly not desiring to become muscular, showed just a touch of

definition, a simple touch, but one which I had strived for and work

continuously to maintain, not wanting to cross the line, keeping my long legs

slender, my rumpus round and shapely, yet absolutely firm and feminine, my tummy

trim and taut, and graced with round luscious breasts, all natural, a gift of

course, not even I would dare take credit for developing those, as they were

simply gifted to me, a simple, lucky break, all wrapped into a five foot, five

inch twenty six year old frame, now clad only in soft, shiny silk, standing

before a man who, at age fifty, continued to show his ever present affection for

me in a way only a man could, his tender pink salute a true tribute to my

majesty, pointing desperately north.

I had been in this position so many times before, invited to two or three of

their parties a year, his wife totally unaware, she a socialite, more concerned

about her status than his whereabouts, knowing perhaps on some level that he was

not totally faithful, but not really giving a damn, as long as her social needs

were satisfied, he taking relative advantage of me, knowing he could, or so I

thought, coming to my own conclusions of course, that his wife did not give a

damn, they seemed to have an arrangement of sorts, I feeling a bit used at

times, but he taking relatively good care of me financially, yeah I know what

you're thinking, making me dependent upon him, and he, not unattractive,

actually quite attractive and appealing to me, taking me into his office

whenever the moment was ripe for him, and truthfully, I was generally as ripe as

he was on most occasions. I never really let him know that I enjoyed being with

him, allowing him to believe that he was taking advantage of our relative

statuses in life, as I knew that was important to him. While entranced with him

for the way he took care of me, I also was angry with him, I knowing that he

thought he was getting from me what he could because of his powerful station in

life, he thinking that I, as his subordinate, was putting out because he

demanded it, but not knowing that I truly enjoyed being with him, he thinking I

was a mere sexual slave to him, a silhouette he could paste and hang on his

bedpost. The old postulate applied, he being a bit beyond his sexual

prime.....At age fifty, he might only do it once or twice, but damnit, he did it

well, and I cared for him, in spite of the old hag he called a wife, I knew she

wasn't putting out for him, he being generous in more ways than one, the

financial one obviously, but I truly cared for him, as he genuinely liked

people, although absolutely, and authoritatively in charge of his empire, and

took care of the people he liked, possibly almost generous to a fault.

At six foot two, and a svelte 190 pounds, he presented quite an attractive

picture, and normally, getting together in his office at such a party, I

dressing down, always at his insistence, but really for my pleasure, slowly

removing my skirt, nylons and top, all the way down to my silky little slip, he

generally running his strong, rough, yet absolutely gentle hands over the soft,

shiny fabric which caressed and encased my body, his hands generally starting at

my shoulders, I exposing them graciously, although allowing him to think I did

so at his insistence, inviting him to share in the passion, my bare shoulders

exposed to his strong hands and rough, but somehow tender lips, he was very

gentle with me, I turning and backing my little caboose into his groin, allowing

his throbbing member to slide along the silky folds which covered my tender butt

cheeks, wrapping his penis in soft shiny silk, he sliding it tenderly along and

in the gentle crack which separated my cheeks, his gentle lips running the

expanse of my neck, as I'd melt into his muscular arms, his hands rising to cup

my silk laden breasts, his fingertips always catching and twirling my little

nipples, as I melted into his arms, deviously portraying myself in the role, for

his egocentric pleasure of course, of unwilling prisoner, rather than willing

participant, I of course knowing my true intent, and to be quite truthful, if

you can believe it, knowing that it was I who was in charge, and not him....That

by allowing him to think he was in charge, I actually knew what he wanted and

arranged the situation to my ultimate benefit, he acting exactly as I wanted him

to, he thinking erroneously, that I was acting only in response to his

ministrations, his orders as chief executive. But facing him now was different,

as our relative perspectives had changed quite dramatically.

I look down upon him now, he absolutely glorious in his little birthday suit, so

sweet, so cute, and I in the soft, shiny silk slip he loved to see me in, as

always when we stand before each other in this room, his clothes and shoes

scattered at his feet, literally dwarfing him, as did I, he craning his neck

this time, giving me the proper, respectful salute, his tiny little member, so

pink and tender, pointing directly toward me, he perhaps straining his little

neck muscles a bit in his effort to gaze up so that his eyes met mine, I

incredibly resisting the impulse to drop to my knees in front of him, as I had

done so many times before, in the past dropping to the floor and taking in all

of him, all eight inches, between my lips, while his strong muscular hands

grasped the back of my head and pressed me forth, into his manhood, I obediently

and ever so willingly swallowing all of it, satisfying both his manly urges as

well as his ego, loving him, but always knowing on some level, on each occasion,

that he felt he had taken advantage of me.

I wanted to drop to my knees once again, but for much different reasons now,

wanting to hold, cuddle and protect the tiny little being who, standing as

forthright, and as tall and proud as possible, almost intoxicatingly brushed his

tiny little baby chin across the top of my knee while gazing, straining, into my

eyes, he at his full, and newly acquired height, trying to maintain every ounce,

yes ounce, of his tiny male pride, he wanting to reach toward me, to have me

take him into my arms, but not wanting to give that away, not wanting to admit

his situation, a situation that he correctly surmised as being a helpless one,

he being a quick study, a person who could analyze a situation and arrive at a

realistic conclusion, evaluating the pros and cons and although not knowing why

this had occurred, realizing at the same point that it had indeed occurred, and

was a realistic situation, knowing through his power and gift of analytical

skills, that he truly had some choices to make, although neither one of us truly

knew what had happened to cause such a phenomenon, his current plight, but both

of us indeed, recognizing that something amazing had occurred, he, I believe,

wanting to ask me what I thought had happened, but not doing so because he was

such a proud man, who truly did not have to query his simple minded secretary,

me, for an answer to a question that he could truly figure out on his own, given

time of course, time all of a sudden becoming a rare commodity for him, a

commodity, as he was rapidly beginning to realize, he did not have, his little

facial expressions changing dramatically as so many thoughts raced through his

little mind, I catching each and every change, he at one moment somewhat

prideful and assured, and the next terrified, I so wanting to drop to my knees,

to pull him close, and to assure him that everything would be OK, that I would

take care of him. But I did not do so, as my memories of the past kicked in, I

realizing that he had always tried to hold the upper hand, that he had never

caved in to me, although on more than one occassion I had led him into

situations of my preference.

He sure was a stubborn little thing, standing there at my feet, waiting for me

to make the first move, he initially so proud, so brave, but during the half

hour or so I spent watching his little form finagle, during which time I crossed

my arms under my breasts, supporting them comfortably, and casually resting my

buttocks against the front of his now larger than life, powerful oak desk,

letting him know that I had no intention of caving in, of making the first move,

of showing any signs of sympathy for his condition, empowering me, allowing me

to take full and incredible control of the situation, of his very life, he

trying to posture himself, relying on some of the tactics he had employed as a

larger and more powerful man, now coming to grips with the fact that he was no

longer so large and powerful, but rather a tiny little thing, he trying

desperately to maintain his pride and composure, keeping a stiff upper lip most

of the time, occasionally letting it drop and quiver, but upon his recognition

that I had noticed such lack of composure, immediately stiffening his lip once

again, hoping to get me to drop and take him in, allowing him to claim that, at

his size, I just took advantage of him physically, which would give him the

psychological benefit of being able to claim that anyone, given physical

superiority, could take control of another person, but I decided to maintain my

composure, to allow him to make the first move....After all, I had all night,

and could come and go as I pleased.....As much as he hated it, he had nowhere to

run, nowhere to hide, and truly needed help from the larger world around him,

and as time passed, I could see the look of resignation beginning to form on his

little face, I becoming ever so empowered, knowing that, as the minutes passed,

he was becoming painfully aware of the fact that I was probably the one he

trusted most in this world, and that he might need to resign himself to the fact

that he might need to place his tiny little life in my hands.

Our little staring contest went on for over an hour, neither of us speaking a

solitary word, his little face shifting between despair and pride, his tiny

lower lip stiffening and then quivering, but toward the end of the hour leaning

more toward quivering, I desperately wanting to drop to my knees and take him

in, to comfort and cuddle him, but resisted knowing, or at least hoping, that

his will would subside, that he would eventually cave in and beg for my

assistance, it being the most empowering experience of my young life, and as

time marched on, it became apparent that he was weakening in his resolve, the

final straw coming when, at a moment I thought he was weakest, at a moment where

his little bottom lip began to quiver once again, where I thought I might have

seen a tear forming in his eye, I took advantage of the little guy, I took my

eyes off of him, and casually twirled my nipples with my nails, allowing him to

think that I had become more interested in my own passion, my own life, than his

plight, his miserable little life, driving him to the conclusion that he was now

fully dependent and allowing him the realization that he might need help just to

survive, that after an hour of considering his alternatives, given his new

vantage point, given his change in status and perspective, that he truly had

limited choices and, unfortunately for him, I being the one he trusted most, he

might have to verbally appeal to me for such assistance, the equivalent of

throwing his complete and utter trust into me, a person whom he had come to

realize, over the last hour or so, cared for him and his well being, and looking

down I thought I saw that tiny tear escape his eye, as his bottom lip quivered

noticably.

I felt tiny hands on my knees while listening to a quivering little voice beg

for my help, 'Please, just hold me, I'm so scared,' I, no longer able to resist,

having won the battle, dropped to my knees, pulling him into the soft, silky

folds of my slip, the slip he so adored, pulling his little face to my breasts,

his tears raining over them, I kissing him, cleaning up the tears, and and

holding him tight, taking his sweet lips between mine, cupping his little

buttocks so that his tiny manhood meshed into the folds of the silky material

above my womanhood, he breaking into a full throttled cry as I felt his little

manhood tickling my tummy, followed by a glorious release of his tribute, a

release of his pent up manhood, so warm and sweet, I delving a nail to catch a

drop and bringing it to my lips, declaring 'You taste so sweet little one,

always know that as long as you put your faith in me, I will be there to take

care of you.'

A Change In Perspective by East Coast Guy      So amazing

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A Change In Perspective by East Coast Guy      So amazing