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.'