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Lisa Learns Her Place Ch. 01

By: Ling00



Author's Note: This story contains strong sexist and racist language and is definitely NOT for everyone.  I co-wrote this with a friend who knew this was my fantasy so if you find raceplay offensive, please do not read any further.

*

Day 1

Walking into the office, I see that you're already as your desk, as usual, hunched down over some paper, your computer screen already alive with emails and spreadsheets and some word document that you've probably been working on all night. I smirk, knowing you've probably been busting your ass for weeks to finish the report that's due today, that we're going to present together to the CFO and the senior execs, and that I've basically done shit on the project, letting you slave away, spending nights and weekends to do the work of two people. 

"And why not?" I think to myself. 

Why the fuck should I do the work when there's an Asian slave to do it for me? 

It's not like they hired you for anything but your work ethic. Shit, you're the only woman in the firm, and the only minority for that matter. Everybody else is a white man, most your typical frat guys, guys who partied through college, drank and fucked and smoked their way through four or five years of school, coasting by on their parents' money and a minimum of effort. I know, because I've done the exact same thing. I probably spent an average of about two hours a week on actual schoolwork, if that, and most of that was busy work for the cake classes I took. The rest of the time was spent "dating" one random slut after another, a few of them who were so dumb that they actually thought I would be interested in being their boyfriend or some shit. Instead I'd just fuck them for a night or two, maybe two weeks in a row if they were particularly hot or into a threesome or something kinky like that, and then they'd get tossed aside. I don't think I went more than two days in a row without drinking the entire four years I was in school. I graduated with a degree in finance management and a 2.9 GPA, but my frat brother's uncle runs a big firm in New York, so I got a job offer two weeks after graduation and started working a week after my three-week vacation to Thailand. 

You'd actually started at the firm almost a year before I did, I remember seeing you when I first started, the only woman in the office, but the Junior VP who showed me around on my first day didn't even introduce you. And now, seven years later, you're in the exact same spot you were then, still hunched over your desk working your little ass off, and I've been promoted three times and have an office with a big desk and a bigger window. And today we're going to hand in the report you've been slaving over and I'm going to take all the credit.

I stop into my office for a moment, wash down a couple Advil with a bottled water from the fridge in my office, and grab the phone. "Lisa, print out twenty-five copies of the report, get 'em bound and bring them in here for the 10:30." I hang up before you can say a word. 

A half-minute later you appear at the door to my office, standing just outside the doorway, unwilling to enter without permission. The last time you came in without asking, I yelled at you for two minutes about respect. You learned your lesson, apparently. I let you stand there for a moment, pretending not to notice, and then finally look up, staring at you for a second. You're wearing something that looks like the same outfit you wear every day, some kind of plain skirt, knee length, with an equally plain blouse. Your jet black hair is cut short. Today the skirt is black and the blouse is white. Whatever. I nod and you come in quietly, trying not to make a sound. 

You silently walk to the side of my big desk and lay a pile of bound folders down. I can see your tiny arms are about to fall off from the weight, and you gasp as you finally set them down. That minute I made you wait in the doorway must have been torture. I smile and grab one off the top, flipping it open. "Shit, Lisa. The font is supposed to be 14 point Verdana. You Chinese are supposed to be good at this shit."

"I... I'm Vietnamese," you say softly, head down. 

"The fuck do I care where your boat came from? Did I ask you for a geography lesson? Next time, how about you worry less about your ancestry and more about following simple fucking directions."

"Sorry," you whisper, almost under your breath. I can see your face is flushed, your eyes almost look like you're about to cry. I feel my dick hardening in my suit pants. 

"Don't apologize. Just do it right the first time, then you won't have to apologize when you screw up. Again. It's no wonder you've never been promoted, fuck." Your shoulders slump in the white blouse that's clinging to your slim body, and I dig deeper. "You know, sometimes I wonder why we don't have more women or Asians around, and then I remember what happened when we hired you -- we got a fuck-up of a cunt who can't do a single thing right."

Your head darts up, your eyes flashing for a moment, shocked at my language, your lips parted slightly. I see your round little white teeth behind your thin lips, the pink tip of your tongue as you think about saying something, and I cut you off before you can even begin. "If you were even halfway decent at your job, we'd hire twenty of you little monkeys and save a ton of money, 'cause you work for nothing. Why do you think you haven't gotten a bonus in six years? Nobody cares if you quit, we'll just find some other little yellow twat to take your place."

You lips is quivering and your eyes are glistening, you look beyond speaking now, too furious to say anything, and I smile and grab the folders off the desk and move to the door. "Let's go. When we get in there, keep your stupid mouth shut and try not to fuck this up any more than you already have."

I walk quickly to the conference room, leaving you and your short legs far behind. By the time you get there, I've already closed the door behind me and greeted the assembled senior execs, and you're forced to open the door once again and find a seat in a corner. There aren't any left around the big wooden table. No one bothers to greet you. I get the meeting started, lay out the report that you've been slaving over. Any question that's asked is directed at me, and when you try to speak up at one point, the CFO shoots you a nasty look and interrupts you. You try again about ten minutes later, and this time the CFO, a white guy in his 60s named Van Martin III, gives you an even sterner look and actually tells you that it's rude to talk without being first addressed. A couple of the other execs snicker out loud. Van, or Trip, as he's called by everyone but you (you still call him Mr. Martin), laughs as well at their reaction. It's almost as if he can't believe everyone else laughed at his abuse of you, and finds it hilarious. 

I continue with the presentation; never referencing you except to blame a typo of mine on you. Near the end, I stumble over some numbers, mixing them up as I speak, even though they're correct on the presentation, and Trent Sanders from Sales laughs and calls out, "Sounds like Lisa screwed up the numbers again!" Everyone laughs. Nobody cares that I misspoke. You're a running joke. Blame it on the office Asian cunt. I look over and see you slumped in your chair in the corner, your normally light brown face pale and flushed, like you're going to be sick. I smile and finish up the presentation. 

When I'm done, the CFO and the other execs congratulate me, shaking my hand, slapping my back. Jim Marold from Accounts reminds me that he and I are playing golf this weekend, and Drew Parker invites me to head out with him and the guys for drinks after work. No one says a word to you, except Clark Berenger, the new guy who came over from MM&P a month ago. He asks you to grab him a bottled water. You leave and come back with the water a minute later and the conference room is empty.

Later that day, after everyone's gone home and we're the only two people left in the building, I'm back in my office packing up when you come to the door. You stop at the doorway and knock, and I can see that you're about to explode. I make you wait the normal half minute before acknowledging you're there, and of course you stand there and take it. And then I decide to add an extra twenty or so seconds, just for fun. You still stand there and take it. Finally I look up and act shocked that you're standing there, like I had no idea, and beckon you in with a nod of my head. I don't offer you a chair.

You stand in front of my desk, between the two chairs, and I can see the fury and embarrassment in your eyes, your little body is actually shaking, your fists are clenched so tight that your knuckles are white. I sigh. "What do you want, Lisa?"

"Brad, y-you... you have no right to treat me like this." Your normally high-pitched voice is even higher, cracking with your anger. It's hilarious. "The way you speak to me, the things you said to me, it's really inappropriate!" I try to keep from laughing in your face. "I work harder than anyone around here, and you just took credit for all my work. You know very well I did that entire report." I can hear your voice trembling. You've obviously been planning this little speech the whole time we were in the meeting. High comedy.

"The things you said to me were really hurtful, and your behavior towards me is really disrespectful and rude and m-mean." Your voice cracks again on the last word, and I can tell you're about to cry. It's great stuff.

I wait a moment, not speaking, just staring at you, watching the tears well up in your big dark eyes, seeing your lips quivering uncontrollably.

Finally, I speak. "Are you finished?" You can only nod and I can tell that if you opened your mouth you'd burst into tears. So fucking pathetic.

"Here's the thing, Lisa. I don't give two shits whether you're offended or pissed or feel disrespected. That's not my job, to care about your feelings. Start doing your fucking job and maybe you won't get offended so fucking easily when I call you a mean name. Fuck, you'd think no one had ever called you a name before!" I stand up as I speak and walk slowly around my desk, back around behind you, closing the door to my office. "I honestly have a hard time believing that you've gone through your entire life without being called a 'gook.' " From behind you, I can see your body stiffen beneath the thin white fabric. "Or that no one's ever called you a 'slant'." Your head drops just a bit. I move slowly back around to where I can see your face. There are tears streaming silently down your cheeks. "Or that no one's ever called you a 'chink' or a 'rice-eater'."

Your small shoulders are visibly shaking now as you sob, your chin resting on your chest. "I find that hard to believe, Lisa, that no one has ever said those things to you. You're a big girl, Lisa, you should be able to take that kind of thing without it bothering you."

I hear you mutter something through your sobs, but I can't hear you, and I move closer, leaning in, "What was that? Did you say something, gook?"

You manage to whimper, "S-s-stop!"

I laugh. "What, you think any of those guys are thinking anything different? You think Parker or Sanders thinks you're any different than a peasant girl in a rice paddy with a little straw hat? You think Marold or Trip care if you're a Jap or a chink or a fucking gook?"

You're sobbing uncontrollably now, tears streaming down your face, your tiny body wracked, shuddering, your shoulders heaving. I move to stand directly behind you, feeling the heat from your trembling body through the thin material of your blouse, radiating off your soft brown skin. I smell the gentle scent of whatever shampoo you've been using, something flowery, young, fresh, and I bask in your innocence for a moment, savoring it while it lasts. Your skin is clear and healthy, and as I examine you from behind, I think that were things different, I could actually find myself attracted to you beyond what I'm intending. 

But the thought quickly passes, and almost makes me laugh aloud. The idea of actually dating an Asian bitch like you, of bringing you home to family holidays or to school reunions, showing up with some little yellow girl, is laughable. My family would wonder what the hell was wrong with me, my friends would mock me unceasingly. It would be akin to dating the maid or something, or marrying the nanny. People like you can be used as help around the house or to take care of the kids, and you can certainly be fucked, but to go beyond that is ludicrous. And it's high time you understood your place in this world... in my world.

You're still sobbing, quieter now, the tears seemingly drained from your slim body, your head hanging on your chest, hands wiping at your eyes. I step up against you from behind, softly, moving my hands around your small hips, gently pulling your body back against mine, holding you, my lips moving to your ear, whispering softly to you, "It's okay. Lisa, I want you to know that even if it doesn't seem like it, I'm trying to help you." I feel your body tense in my arms, stiffen, shuddering noticeably, and I can feel the fear radiating off you, the uncertainty, and I plunge ahead.

"I know it's not easy to understand, but everything I've done for you has been for your own good." My lips brush gently against your earlobe, and you don't recoil. "I'm doing this to help you. You've been wasting your life. I know it, and I think you know it too." My hands move slowly up over your sides, feeling your slim, warm body through your blouse, your tight stomach, the soft curves of your almost childlike body. "How much time have you spent in your life, working your ass off, struggling to do the best you can, fighting to do better than the men like me, staying up all night studying, writing, reading, doing whatever it takes to be the best, to overcome all the disadvantages nature has handed you?" I kiss your ear gently, my lips tracing slowly down your neck, pulling your body against mine, feeling your small ass nestling comfortably in the curve of my hips, letting you feel me pressing against you.

"You've wasted so much time, so much of your life, trying to deny who you are, trying to be something -- someone -- that you're not, that you can never be. You've been slaving away your whole life, trying to be me, trying to be us. But you can't be. You never will be. All I'm doing is trying to keep you from wasting any more of your life striving for a goal which you can never, ever reach."

My hands move up your body, finding the buttons of your blouse, gently twisting them open, casually, my lips pressing gently against the soft skin of your neck. I can hear you've stopped sobbing, and you seem to be just standing, unsure, scared and hesitant, but I can hear that your breathing has quickened, your body is noticeably warmer, a flush is creeping up the light brown skin of your neck, and you seem to almost be pressing your small soft bottom back against my hips, almost by instinct.

"Those names I called you earlier? Those things I said to you and those horrible words I used? I'm just trying to prepare you for what's to come. Those words are words you should embrace, names you should welcome. That's who you are, who you were meant to be."

Three buttons are open on your blouse now, and my hands slip inside, feeling the almost hot skin on your flat stomach, and I hear you gasp softly as my bare skin touches yours. My fingers move slowly up your body, up to find the thin fabric of your bra, moving up inside it, finding your small breasts and squeezing gently, feeling your tiny nipples harden under my touch. The faintest of moans escapes your lips, and your knees seem to buckle just a bit, your delicious bottom sinking back into my hips. "You'll be so much happier, so much more satisfied and comfortable when you embrace who you are instead of trying to deny it."

With my other hand, I've quietly unzipped my suit pants, my lips still moving gently over your skin, down over your left shoulder, caressing your skin with the very tip of my tongue, tasting the lightly-scented soap you use, tasting the faint hint of sweat on your body, knowing that you've probably been frightened and embarrassed all morning, knowing that throughout the entire presentation you were probably perspiring from shame and anger, amazed that you've managed to control yourself this long. You won't need to control yourself much longer.

"I'm going to set you free, Lisa. I'm going to allow you to stop hiding behind this façade, stop acting, stop playing this part. This isn't who you are. This..." I grasp at the thin material of your blouse and gently pull it off your right shoulder, opening it. "...is not who you are." You shiver as your bare shoulder is exposed to the air conditioned office. My hand has reached inside my suit pants, worked inside my boxer briefs and pulled my throbbing cock from within my clothes. It hangs now, just behind your bottom, heavy and hard and hot in my hand. I breathe softly in your ear, caressing your small round breasts through your bra, feeling your little body responding to my touch, moaning softly as my fingers move over your tiny hard nipples. 

I move my hand from my cock, letting it gently fall a bit to rest between my legs, half-hard and rubbery and thick, move my hand up the small of your back, feeling your warm skin under my fingertips, the gently curve of your body, up to find the clasp of your bra and I undo it with a twist of my fingers, my other hand catching and pulling it slowly down off your arms, off your body, and as I step back a bit your blouse comes with it. You're standing in front of me, your back to me, naked from the waist up, your smooth brown skin rippled with small goose bumps in the cold office air, your short-cut hair just above the nape of your neck, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, not looking back at me. You're shuddering slightly. Your blouse and bra fall to the floor, soundlessly. The only noise is the soft hum of the air conditioning, the low buzz of white noise from the rest of the office through the closed door, and my breathing growing steadily heavier as I examine you critically from behind.

I let my gaze move over the gently curve of your lower back as it slopes slightly inward just above the waist of your black skirt, the small dimples cute and feminine, almost no body fat on your hips, your bottom petite and tight under your clothes, your shoulder blades and the small bumps of your spine barely visible under your skin. 

I sense that you're waiting, indecisive, unsure and confused, and so I move back against you, feeling your naked back against my chest, and then I slowly turn you around to face me, your slim body tight against mine, your arms still over your chest, hiding your small brown nipples. I see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes. You feel my cock pressing against your hips, you must react but you don't. You're too lost, your mind obviously racing to comprehend all that I've said, all that's happening, struggling to rationalize what I've told you with what you think you know, trying to make sense of the contradiction between what you think is right and what your body is telling you. You know that what I'm telling you sounds wrong, flies in the face of everything you've been raised to believe, but at the same time you can't ignore what your body is telling you, the signals that it's giving you that translate into thoughts, thoughts that surge into your mind, telling you I'm right, that your body wants to believe me so your mind does too.

You suddenly lean forward, perhaps trying to kiss me, thinking that's what I want, thinking that makes sense given my actions, that the correct next step is to kiss me, but I just smirk as your eyes close and your lips purse, and instead of leaning in to meet your lips, I simply put my hand on your small shoulder and gently push downwards. To me it's gentle, anyway. To you, your tiny body, it feels as if I've shoved you as hard as I can, and you can't help but fall to your knees on the thick carpet of my office. You suddenly realize that my cock is hanging out of my pants, directly in front of your face, engorged and thick and veiny and white, and you look up at me, more confused than ever. "But, I thought..."


Lisa Learns Her Place Ch. 01



I shake my head gently, looking down at you. "Shhh, Lisa. Don't speak. Don't ask questions. Remember, this is what's best for you. Trust me. And thank me later. This is only the first step in setting you free."

I take my cock in my hand and lift it until it's pointed directly at your small mouth. You look up at me again, utter terror in your eyes, and then I put my hand on the back of your head and push you down on me, forcing your thin lips open with the swollen head of my cock, leaving a glistening trace of precum on your upper lip, feeling you open wide for me as I push on the back of your head.

I see your eyes bulge as I enter you, your nostrils flare, and I smile down at you as I push forward, feeling your tongue fighting around my cock, instinctively trying to force it out of the way of your breathing, and I push further into your mouth in response. I feel my sensitive tip pressing against your throat, and you suddenly gag hard, your throat convulsing violently, your stomach heaving, and I think for a moment you're going to throw up around my dick, but you recover as I pull back a bit, letting you start breathing steadily through your nose. Tears are welling in your eyes as you struggle to breath, and once you've realized you're not going to suffocate, I push back down into your throat, feeling you open for me, taking me deep. I look down at you, see my big white cock jutting from your thin brown lips like some alien growth. I smile down at you, "Nice job Lisa. You're doing great. I know you've probably never had a white man's cock in your mouth, but you're doing fine. You'll get used to it quickly. It looks so natural, so beautiful, it suits you so well."

You seem to be trying to say something, but with my cock jammed into your throat it's difficult, and all you can manage is some kind of silly croaking sound, and you choke yourself for a moment trying. I respond by pushing forward even further, gagging you again, forcing you to open your throat wider, your body arching forward as you try to open your airway around me, teaching you, guiding you, showing you the way to please a white man. "No more of these Asian boyfriends for you, Lisa. They're just a waste of your time and your abilities. From now on, you'll be with no one but white men." You seem to be trying to say something in response, but all that you manage is more guttural moaning, and I ignore you. 

"Shhh, Lisa, quiet. The less talking you do from now on the better. Seen but not heard." I begin slowly fucking your face, drawing my glistening cock in and out of your throat, feeling you clenching around me and releasing, your soft tongue dragging over my head and my shaft, hearing you gasp for air each time I withdraw enough to let you breathe through your mouth. I find a steady rhythm, my hands on the back of your head, holding you in place as I fuck your mouth on the carpet in my office. After a few minutes, I reach down and wrap your hair around my fingers, pulling upwards as my dick pops lewdly from your mouth, sliding out from between your brown lips, wet with saliva, dripping, a thick trail of spit and precum clinging between your lower lip and my swollen purple head that finally breaks and slaps down onto your chin as you rise to your feet. You begin to raise your hand to wipe it away and I stop you. "Leave it, Lisa. It looks right."

You give a slight nod, and I reach out and grasp the waistband of your simple black skirt and push it down off your tiny hips, moving it over the curve of your bottom and letting it fall with a rustle to the floor. You step out of it towards me, now clad only in a pair of white cotton panties. "Hmm. Take those off. You probably shouldn't even bother wearing panties to work anymore. Just a waste of time for everyone involved."

Without a word, you hook your thumbs in the elastic waist and push the panties down over your smooth brown thighs while lifting your tiny feet up through the holes.

You stand naked in front of me now, your slim brown body shivering slightly, your thighs clenched together, one foot slightly in front of the other, holding your little white panties tightly in your fist. "Do you wear contacts, Lisa?"

You look confused for a moment, then say "Yes..."

"No, from now on you should wear glasses to the office. You have a pair of glasses, don't you?"

"Yeah... I don't really wear them except at nigh--"

"You'll wear them everyday to work from now on."

You slowly nod again. I look down your body, down past your tight flat stomach, down between your thighs. "Spread your legs."

You don't move, looking at me, silent, cheeks flushed. I suddenly take a step towards you and grab your throat, squeezing hard, your eyes bulging from your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, choking softly as I squeeze the air out of you. "I said spread your legs, you fucking gook whore." I release my hold slightly and step back as you gasp loudly, snot flowing from your nose as you double over, trying to find air. "Stand up. Spread your legs."

You manage to stand up straight and you spread your legs, your feet at shoulder width, your arms at your sides. I look at your pussy, your hair trimmed neatly but not too short, your brown lips visible between your legs. "Tomorrow you'll come in shaved clean. Better yet, get it waxed. Everywhere."

You're still breathing raggedly, and I can see red marks on your neck from my fingers. I move towards you and you instinctively recoil, but I put my arms around you and pull your now naked body against me, feeling you trembling, your skin warm and frigid at the same time, smelling your skin, your hair, feeling my still-wet cock pressing insistently against your naked thighs, and then I look down at you. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Lisa, but if you misbehave, or don't listen to me the first time, I can't help it if you force me to hurt you a little bit. But don't think I enjoy it. I hate having to do it, so please don't make me. And please trust me that it's for your own good. The sooner you accept that I know what's best for you, the easier this will be and the sooner you'll be free to truly enjoy your new life."

You can only shut your eyes to hold back the tears as you nod again, your tiny body huddled in my arms, pressing against my broad chest, your tiny nipples hard against me through my shirt, your thighs warm on the head of my cock, still hard and aching. "Now, it's not a good idea for you to leave a white man unsatisfied. You can see that you've yet to finish, so let's go ahead and take care of that. Lay down."

You obediently move to the floor, laying on your back on the carpet. I sigh softly, and shake my head. "On your stomach. Lay on your stomach. I don't know why you thought I wanted to look at you. A maid doesn't need to look at the homeowner while she's cleaning. A man doesn't need to look at his chair when he sits in it. You're no different. Turn over now."

You slowly turn yourself over, laying down on your stomach, tucking your hands under your face like a pillow, your slim brown legs laying against one another, your tight little bottom, a bit paler than the rest of your skin, looking up at me, pert and small and round.

"That's a good little slut," I whisper. "But what did I tell you about spreading your legs?" I see you flinch, anticipating a hand around the throat or something worse, and your thighs fly apart, spreading as wide as you can get them, but I draw my hand back and let It come smashing down on your bottom, about half as hard as I can. The noise is flat and loud and stinging, and you cry out softly, burying your face in your arms. "Please, Lisa, please don't make me do that again. Try to remember the lessons I've taught you. I know you're not stupid, or at least not as stupid as you sometimes seem. Even a dog can remember simple lessons reinforced by pain. I do hope that you're at least as smart as a dog, and can learn simple things like this."

I kneel between your widespread legs, slip my hands under your thighs and pull your hips up off the floor, leaving you resting on your elbows, your entire lower body up off the floor in almost a wheelbarrow position. I love how entirely helpless you are, depending entirely on me for support. Exactly as it should be. "Lisa? Lisa, do you hear me?"

You whimper softly, "Y-Yes...."

"Yes, what?"

"I... I don't--"

I let go, your body crashes to the floor and your knees slam into the carpet, hard. You cry out in pain.

"Lisa, you call me 'Sir.' Fuck, I hate having to punish you so much, it makes me so unhappy. Are you trying to make me unhappy, Lisa?"

"Unngghh...no..."

I wrap my arm under your hips and pull you up off the floor again, all your weight on your arms and head, and smack your bottom again, this time harder. You yelp in pain, a vivid red mark forming on your ass. "No sir, Lisa, no SIR."

"No sir! No sir!"

"That's much better, Lisa. Thank you. You're doing so well, I'm very pleased, so far. You're a very quick learner for a gook whore."

Then before you can say another word, I grab my throbbing dick in one hand and pull your body back against me, guiding myself against your pussy lips, pushing hard up against you, and you moan loudly in pain, whimpering. I look down and watch as my swollen cockhead slowly splits you open, spreading your dark brown pussy lips, watching as my white dick moves inside of your wet cunt. 

"Lisa, it makes me so happy to see that you're already wet for me. That's very good. It's very important for a good gook cumslut like you to always be ready for her man. I'm glad to see that you already understand that lesson." As I instruct you, I'm slowly pushing my cock into your body, letting you feel every inch as it enters your tight little yellow cunt, hearing you moan and whimper, muffled by your arms, stuffing my dick into your pussy as slowly as I can. "It also makes me happy that sucking my white cock got you good and wet. It's a good sign that your body already understands your role, even if you haven't chosen to accept it just yet. But you can't fool your body. Your little yellow body knows that when there's a white cock, your pussy needs to get good and wet to be ready."

With that final word, I slam my hips against you, driving my cock the rest of the way into your fragile little body, pushing your head down into the carpet. Your cunt makes a wet squelching sound as I fill you up, and I hear you grunt loudly as your pussy lips stretch wide around my thick cock. I hold myself tight against your body for a moment, savoring the feeling of your hot little gook cunt all around my cock, warm and wet and tight, and I feel you clenching around me, spasming as your body tries to adjust to my sudden violation of your pussy. Then I lower your legs so that you're on your elbows and knees on the carpet, your back bent down so your forehead is resting against the floor, and I move my hands to your small hips. I feel your pussy leaking down onto my balls, and then I pull out and quickly slam back into you, rocking your body forward into the floor, pushing deep into you until I'm buried balls-deep in you again. I hold there, grinding my hips against your tight little brown ass, letting you feel my dick filling you up. Then I pound you again, watching with fascination as your little ass cheeks jiggle and bounce with each violent thrust, enjoying your soft whimpers and the cries of pain and pleasure that echo through the office, the smell of sweat and the sharp tang of your yellow cunt dripping everywhere down my body, leaking like a dirty gook slut.

I slam into your body again and again, pounding your little gook cunt until I can see your brown pussy lips are red and raw and swollen. I fuck your body hard and deep, training you, letting you know what you can expect in the days and weeks to come. You moan and grunt and squeal with every thrust, and I see that you're crying at the same time, tears falling from your cheeks onto the carpet while your cunt leaks everywhere. As I fuck you, I make a mental note to have my assistant call the building cleaning services to clean the stain out of the carpet. 

I let your body slide down mine to the floor, still buried inside you, leaning over you, still fully dressed while you lay naked and spread-eagled on the floor in front of me, impaled on my fat dick. You're barely moving, and I drive down into your body a final time, pushing you across the floor a good half-foot, doubtlessly giving you rug burns on your knees and elbows and your nipples. Then I reach into my suit pocket and grab my iPhone, find the camera icon and click off a stream of photos. I get good shots of your cunt spread wide by my cock, your pussy leaking all over my carpet, your tight little asshole between your pale brown cheeks, your naked back and the back of your head. Then I pull out of you. My dick flops wetly down against my body and your pussy gushes liquid onto the carpet, my precum mixed with your wetness, and the room suddenly stinks even more of sex and gook cunt.

"Turn over." You roll over onto your back, your face and chest flushed, snot and saliva on your lips and chin, your eyes bloodshot and wet. You're a hot mess. You look up at me, eyes glazed with submission and hate and lust, and you see the camera in my hand.

Your mouth opens and you almost start to protest, but I quickly move my body up to straddle yours, my legs on either side of your chest, pinning your arms and your legs to the floor, my cock sliding up between your small brown tits, resting there, still glazed from your gook cunt. "Lisa, you've been doing so well. Don't ruin it now by speaking. I'm so very proud of all that you've learned in such a short time about being a good little slant-eyed gook cumdoll, and I would hate for you to ruin it all by doing something stupid."

I point the iPhone at your face and press the video button, starting the recording, and then take my rubbery cock in my other hand and begin stroking myself over your chest, rubbing the tip of my cock against your hard nipples, then moving up your body enough so that my balls are resting on your neck. I rub myself faster, up and down my throbbing shaft, the swollen head dipping down against your lips and you open your mouth obediently, and I smile, pushing my cockhead into your mouth once again, letting you taste your own yellow pussy, then pulling it out, capturing it all on camera. 

"Tell me to cum, Lisa." You're silent for a short instant, too long, and I push my cock down into your mouth, hard, stuffing it down your throat and your body heaves upwards violently and your throat convulses as you feel the brief panic of choking to death, and then I pull out, slapping your cheek with my cockhead. "Tell me to cum, Lisa." My voice is level and calm.

"Cum. Sir." You almost forget the "Sir," but the sudden pressure of my full weight on your ribcage, crushing the air out of your tiny body reminds you, and you gasp it out.

"Tell me again. Once more, with feeling, Lisa."

I point the camera at your face, zooming in, and hear you moan, "Cum on me, sir!"

I explode, hot thick cum spurting hard onto your face, your lips, your eyelids, your cheeks, rolling down your chin onto your chest. You open your mouth and swallow greedily, licking it off your lips and lifting your head to try to clean it off my cock, and I'm so pleased with you that I allow you to, pushing my dick between your lips and letting you clean my dick while I film it all.

I stand up after a moment, putting myself away, zipping up, and slip my camera back into my pocket. You lay on the floor still, cum on your tits and face and in your hair. "Don't bother cleaning yourself up until you get home." I hand you your clothes, holding on to your panties. "You won't be needing these. And remember what I said -- don't bother wearing them tomorrow. And wear your glasses."

You nod. "Yes, sir." I watch as you quietly get dressed and duck out of my office, limping noticeably. I pull out my camera and flip through the pictures, then watch the video of you begging me to cum. I smile, and pull up the work email address for Trip Martin and a couple of other guys in the office. They're going to love this. Tomorrow will be fun.



Lisa Learns Her Place Ch. 02



Author's Note: This story contains strong sexist and racist language and is definitely NOT for everyone. I co-wrote this with a friend who knew this was my fantasy so if you find raceplay offensive, please do not read any further.  

* 

Day 2

When I get into the office the following day, I get a message from my assistant. Apparently Trip wants to see me in his office, immediately. Fuck, it's only nine in the morning. Helluva way to start the day, summoned by the CFO. Just what I need. As I make my way through the cubicle farm, I notice something's different about the office today. It's hard to place. New carpet? Some light bulbs been replaced? Hmm, maybe some new lamps? Then I realize it's that you're not at your desk. Huh. New lamps would have been more exciting.

I knock on Martin's door and he calls me in. I open the thick wooden door and step into his office and see you sitting in one of his leather upholstered chairs. I pause for a quick second, my heart in my throat, but it's not out of fear. You're not wearing your glasses. Rage nearly overwhelms me, and it's all I can do not to walk over and choke you with one hand while slapping you repeatedly with the other. Little fucking worthless disobedient gook slut fuckdoll. I'm so upset with you I can barely think, much less speak, and I need to stand motionless in the doorway for a long instant while I regain control of myself. I make a silent promise that you'll be punished for angering me so and ruining my morning.

I manage to step into Trip's office, noticing in passing that you look like you've been crying and haven't slept, just looking terrible in general. I half-heartedly wonder what could be wrong, and see that a couple of Trip's plants are dying. He should probably get someone to water them more often. He does have a nice desk though, and whoever picked out his artwork is much better than my guy.

"Have a seat, Taylor."

I swing myself down into one of the soft chairs along the wall, directly perpendicular to you. You can't really see me except out of the corner of your eyes, you're facing Trip, and I'm off to his left. "What's up, Trip?"

"Lisa here has told me something that has me a little worried, Brad."

"You don't say. And what's that, Trip?" My eyes are locked on you, watching your face, seeing you blinking back tears. This must be hard for you, I know. I should get my shoes polished during lunch.

Trip's doing his "serious boss voice," the one he saves for meetings with the CEO. I almost break out laughing, but I know that would ruin things. I want it to be a surprise. "Lisa tells me that yesterday morning, you used some language with her, called her some names, that she found offensive." He turns to you, a look of concern and sympathy on his face. His almost-silver hair is thick and full, parted on the right, reminding of James Brolin. Very presidential. Good look for a CFO. I make a mental note to ask him who his barber is. "Lisa, stop me if I'm wrong, but you told me that Taylor here called you, among other things, a 'gook,' a 'slant,' a 'cunt,' a 'bitch,' a 'whore' and a 'slut.' Is that right?"

Trip's really giving it his all, leaning towards you with each word, really letting you hear them. It's great. I watch you wince with each utterance, shrinking lower in your chair. By the time our CFO calls you a slut, you're visibly sobbing, but silently. I can feel myself growing hard watching it. You manage to nod, your head down. "Y...Yes," you whisper.

"Hmmm." Trip continues, "And she also told me that after our meeting yesterday -- splendid presentation by the way, Brad, just splendid -- she told me that after the meeting, you..."sexually assaulted" her in your office? Is that true, Taylor?"

I shrug. "Well, to be honest, Trip, I don't know if legally it would be considered an assault. She definitely seemed to enjoy it."

Trip smirks, your head still down, crying. I can tell Martin's trying not to laugh. "Well let me see here. Lisa tells me that not only did you have her remove all her clothes, but that you made her perform felattio on you; you fornicated with her on the floor of your office; and then you masturbated yourself in front of her, humiliating her by ejaculating on her face and chest. Is that accurate, Lisa?"

You sniffle loudly, trying to control your tears, and nod silently, quickly, staring at the floor. 

"Well, Taylor. Hmm." Trip moved around to perch on the front of his big wooden desk, his legs crossed one over the other, his grey suit slacks immaculately creased, thin grey wool socks visible above his gleaming black Thom McAns. He was wearing a three-piece suit today, and the waistcoat had a slimming effect that I noted. "This whole thing does seem a bit messy."

"It was, Trip, quite messy."

Martin almost loses it at that, but manages to somehow keep a straight face. His serious voice cracks just a bit as he resumes speaking, but he quickly brings it under control and I don't think you've noticed in between your sobs, which have become quite annoying, like the dripping of a faucet. I find myself anticipating your next heaving convulsion, the next simpering breath, and begin wondering if this is all really worth it. You're proving to be quite the hassle, but I remind myself that most projects worth taking on aren't easy. You'll learn. I wouldn't have taken you on to begin with if I didn't see in you the potential to be turned into a faithful, obedient little Asian fuck slave.

"So, Lisa," Trip continues, fighting to keep a smile off his face, ending up with some contorted Joker-esque grin, but fortunately for our fun you can't even raise your head, "You do realize that these are very serious allegations. If it's true, not only will I have to immediately fire Mr. Taylor here, but I'm guessing you would have strong grounds for a number of different sexual harassment lawsuits, against both him and possibly the firm. I can only hope that you would understand that the firm and its partners and executives had no knowledge of Mr. Taylor's activities, and would wholeheartedly support you in any legal action you chose to take against him."

Your head pops up, looking at Trip, staring through your tears and your short hair that's fallen over your forehead. I see your cheeks streaked and sunken, you obviously didn't sleep much last night, if at all. The sudden hope in your eyes is so pathetic, and I immediately feel my cock harden completely, throbbing against my leg. 

Trip lets you enjoy the moment, letting your imagination and your hope soar, the adrenalin surely coursing through your veins. Then he speaks, "I assume, Lisa, that you have some proof of your accusations, something that can substantiate your story? Because I know you understand, your word alone would hardly be enough." The anxious expression that had begun to form on your face fades, your hopes falling. I notice a small bug crawling along the arm of my chair, and move my hand to let it pass. It's got small blue eyes that catch the light in an interesting way. "I would hope you would appreciate, Lisa, that it would hardly be proof for someone like you -- " Trip pauses and gazes down at you for a moment, his meaning fully clear " -- to accuse someone like Mr. Taylor here, going on just your word. That would truly be a futile endeavor."

Then your eyes brighten once more, for what I'm guessing is the final time. "There's proof, Mr. Martin, sir." I smile broadly, both at the reflexive "sir" and at what I know is coming. "Bradley, he... took photos. H-He has them on his phone!" Your voice is cracking, pleading... begging. Your eyes are desperate. 

Trip glances over at me, then back at Lisa, a smile inexorably creeping across his features. I can't blame him, he's done so well to this point remaining stoic and solemn, the great grim arbiter of fairness. But the mask is finally slipping, and you see it fall. "Lisa, I'm not going to check Taylor's phone."

"But..."

Martin interrupts yours pathetic bleating, "I don't need to check his phone." He reaches back onto his desk and grabs his own iPhone, flipping quickly through his photos, and then holding it up so that you have a perfect view of the screen. "I've already seen the photos. And the video. Taylor emailed them to me right after you left."

The look on your face is utterly beautiful, natural law in action, your will and resolve and hope all destroyed in an instant. Any dreams you had of revenge or justice are wiped away in a heartbeat as you see yourself, your face, being splashed with my hot cum, over and over again as Martin hits the replay button on the video I had made. After a moment, he turns the screen so that he can see, and frowns. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" He presses a button on the side a few times. "I totally forgot the volume." The sounds of your moans fill the office, my grunts and your whimpers and groans echoing off the walls, and then the three of us hear you begging, clearly, perfectly, "Cum on me, sir!" It's wonderful.

The moment is perfect, more perfect than I could have engineered myself. Martin's devastation of you is a thing of beauty. I thought my work the day before had been nice, but I realize that in this 60-year old silver-haired man I've found a mentor, an inspiration. He took what I had done and had surpassed it in an instant. I felt like applauding his genius, but I contented myself with smiling at him, this man 30 years my senior, who had so much to teach me.

He smiled back, grinning from ear to ear like a schoolboy who's just received top marks on an exam. It's so nice to see evidence that one can still get pleasure from the little things in life, even at an advanced age. Then Trip turned back to you. You've utterly collapsed, your small shoulders hunched down, your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as if you're going to be sick, your head almost resting on your knees. You'd dressed in tight black slacks today, with a pale blue blouse, small earrings with some clear gem, maybe a diamond. You look like you were trying hard to look nice, to present yourself professionally, as if that would make a difference. And now you just look that much more pathetic for your ignorance, for thinking it could have any effect on what happened today. I watch as your body slowly bobs up and down, holding yourself tight, squeezing yourself in your arms, moaning softly, broken, sobbing, whimpering, almost drooling, and I hear a low moaning "No..." from your lips. My cock is threatening to burst from my pants, and I'm anxious to get back to resume your training.

But Trip beats me to it. He stands up from his desk, and I see that he's apparently as engorged by your masterful humiliation as I am. The front of his suit pants are visibly stained, and I can see that he's about to pop right through them. He solves the dilemma by unzipping his trousers and reaching inside, and as I watch, he pulls out his dick, swollen and firm, a little longer than mine and about as thick. For an older guy, he's certainly got no problems in that department. Good for him. 

He steps forward to stand in front of you, putting his hands gently on your shoulders, the grotesquely swollen head of his dick casually resting on your hair, rubbing against you, and I see strands of black hair clumping together as he paints you with his precum.

"Lisa... Lisa." His voice is soft and low, totally different from the "serious voice," or from any voice I've ever heard him use. It's almost -- fatherly. I sit back and begin taking copious mental notes. I'm humble enough to know when I'm in the presence of genius. "Lisa, sweetie. From what I understand, Brad here was absolutely correct to do what he did." His hands move over your head, stroking your short hair soothingly. "He, and I, we know what's best for you. I've been around the block more than once. And it's for your own good that he did what he did. He's helping you more than you can possibly understand."

It's a ludicrous scene, this silver-haired 60-year old standing over the tiny, young Vietnamese slut, his bulbous, veiny cock rubbing in her shiny hair as he speaks to her as a father would. I don't crack up in laughter only because of how impressed I am. "Brad was just doing something that I should have done years ago. I saw you when you first started here, I've seen you working her, slaving here, for years, showing up early and staying late, and for what? I can't honestly believe you thought that anyone cared, or that anyone appreciated your effort. No one is that naïve, are they?"

Trip put his hand under your chin, lifting your face, and you see his bare cock for the first time. Your red-rimmed eyes widen comically, and you look up at him. "You're not that naïve, are you Lisa? You didn't really think that you were ever going to be more than the office slut, did you?"

He looked down at her, shook his head sadly. "Oh my. You really did think you were going to get promoted, didn't you? Oh dear. That's precious." Martin crouched down and wrapped his arms around you, his dick still hanging, hard and rubbery, between his suit-clad legs. He hugged you to him, pulling your still sobbing body against his, drying your tears on his $3,000 suit, patting your head gently, almost lovingly. It's almost sweet. After a minute, you sobs begin to subside, and he releases you and stands back up. You've managed to sit up now, and you draw your arm across your face, embarrassed, wiping snot and tears and saliva onto your blouse. 

"Lisa, please understand, all that Brad was doing was trying to prepare you for reality. If he, if we, had let you go on believing that you could ever amount to more than you really are, why, that would just be cruel. Cruel, and unfair to you."

As he spoke, Martin casually stepped forward so that the head of his dick is pressed against your lips. I see your face, half shock, half lust, totally confused and scared and ashamed. It reminds me of yesterday, and I slowly rub my palm across the massive erection straining at my pants, pressing down on myself through the fabric as I watch him work. "Open your mouth, sweetie." I've never heard him speak as softly, as gently. "It's okay, open up. Go ahead."

Your lips slowly part, and he slides his hips forward slowly, pushing his throbbing dick into your mouth, moaning softly as your warm tongue wraps around his massive member, your eyes closing as you try to adjust your throat. Martin groans softly, "That's wonderful, dear. You're doing great. You're such a good little cocksucker. I'm so proud of you." His hand moves to the back of your head and gently strokes your hair, letting you begin a slow, steady bobbing motion on his dick. "That's so nice, honey. Daddy's so proud of you."

I feel my cock leaking through my pants as I stroke myself, watching the two of you, trying to hold off pulling myself out as long as I can, enjoying the show.

"Lisa, honey?" Take your clothes off. You don't need those anymore." I watch as you continue sucking Martin's dick, maintain a steady rhythm while your fingers move to your blouse, undoing the buttons easily, shrugging the thin fabric off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You reach behind yourself and undo your bra, and It joins your shirt. Martin's cock has never left your mouth. I'm impressed. You have a lot of natural, innate talent, as I knew, but I'm surprised how quickly it's emerged. Martin reaches down and gently unclasps your earrings, taking them off you, pocketing them. "You don't need these. Please don't wear them ever again."

You try to nod with a mouthful of cock, and only succeed in momentarily gagging yourself. Your eyes tear up, and Martin pulls back enough to relieve the pressure on your throat. "It's okay honey. Take it slow. You've got so much to learn, there's no need to rush it. I hope you know that neither Brad nor myself have any desire to hurt you. I know he got a little rough with you yesterday, but I'm guessing you deserved it, didn't you, sweetie?" You don't try to nod again, but he goes on. "I'm sure he didn't want to do what he did, didn't want to cause you pain, but sweetie, if you don't listen, if you don't obey, than sometimes things have to happen. But it's always for your own good, I promise you. You can trust me. And you can trust Brad." He turns to me, thrusting his hips forward as he does, his hips almost flush against your face and I see you struggling to relax your throat to take him in. Trip doesn't seem to notice the discomfort he's causing you. "Isn't that right, Taylor? My little girl can trust us, right?"

"Absolutely, Trip, absolutely." I slowly get to my feet, my erection almost painful in my suit pants, jutting noticeably against the dark fabric, tenting the material and leaving a large dark stain on the expensive navy wool. Trip looks down at my crotch and laughs, and his body's convulsions cause his dick to push down your throat, hard, and you gag loudly, tears springing from your eyes. Trip looks down at you, "Oh, sorry honey, my fault. You're doing great, you're coming along real well." Then to me, "Taylor, bud, you look like you could use a little help with that. Why don't you c'mon over here and let my little girl here take care of you." 

"That sounds fine, Trip, thanks." I move across the room, watching your head bobbing on Trip's dick, your mouth making small slurping sounds as you enthusiastically work on his cock. I see his shaft gleaming each time you pull your head back, your saliva thick on his thick cock. I can tell that you're taking him almost all the way down your throat with each movement of your small head, and I can't help but be impressed and pleased with your quick progress. You're obviously a quick and willing learner, despite your terrible behavior this morning, and I feel a sense of elation and pride in my selection of you. 

As I near the two of you, Trip looks up at me. "So, Taylor, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, Trip, to be honest, I'm still a little upset with her. The way she acted this morning, doing what she did, I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't a little bothered by it."

The older man reached over and patted me gently on the shoulder as you suck particularly hard, making a guttural slobbering sound around his thick tool. "And you've got a right to be upset, son. I don't blame you, and she doesn't blame you either, does she?" He looks down at you, and you look up, meeting his gaze, your mouth and throat stuffed full of 60-year old cock, your thin lips stretched wide around his shaft. You somehow manage to shake your head slightly, drooling down your chin in the process. "See, Brad? She doesn't blame you either. But frankly, that's for you and her to work out in your own time. We're going to need to have some ground rules for this arrangement if things are to progress equitably. Like a contract."

"That sounds fine, Trip." I've unzipped my pants, and finally get to pull out my throbbing dick. It's visibly leaking, the tip shiny with precum. As we talk, I casually push my dick against your face, leaving a viscous streak of precum along your cheek, a trail that leads all the way from your ear to the corner of your mouth. "What did you have in mind?"

"Go on, sweetie, open up for Brad here, I'll make room." You gasp loudly as Trip withdraws his dick partially from your mouth, and you turn your head just enough so that I can push my cock into your mouth alongside his. It seems impossible that you could fit both of us in there at the same time, and for a moment I see you struggling to open your small mouth wide enough, but you eventually find a way, both of us now inside your lips just a few inches, not nearly as far as Trip was before, but I feel your tongue circling my head, and that's good enough for now. There's time. You grunt and gag just a little bit somewhere below us, but Trip ignores you.




Lisa Learns Her Place Ch. 02



"Well, for instance, in a situation such as this, my little girl, our little yellow office whore... she obviously needs to be punished for the way she acted this morning. It's simply inexcusable, and I think she knows that. And I'm guessing that you'll have some other bones to pick with the gook."

"I do indeed, Trip, I do indeed." I feel that you've managed to draw us both a little deeper in, and that's an encouraging sign. I pat your head gently. "For instance, I do remember making a point of telling this little cumdoll that she should be wearing glasses from now on. No more contacts. It seems she didn't get the memo, so to speak." Trip chuckles, and this time you manage to avoid nearly vomiting as his dick involuntarily pushes down your throat just a bit. I can feel him swelling alongside me in your mouth, and I'm guessing he must be getting close to cumming.

"No, she apparently didn't."

"Exactly. So, yes, as you said Trip, there are definitely a number of areas in which our yellow gook cunt could certainly use some reinforcement. Constructive criticism, if you will." Big laugh for that one. I feel your throat convulsing as both our cocks surge deep into your mouth, gagging you hard.

"So here's what I have in mind," Trip moans softly as he speaks, he's definitely getting close. "As long as my little girl is in my office, she's under my supervision. Any punishment is up to me, subject to my judgment. If I think she needs to be disciplined, I'll handle it. Agreed?"

"I suppose that's only fair."

"But, if the stupid gook, bless her little heart, is in your office, then you have free rein to levy any discipline or punishment you see fit."

"That sounds like a great system, Trip, I think that will work just fine. But what about when she's in the rest of the office?"

"Why don't we just call that neutral ground, for now. I think the details will work themselves out in due time, but until then, let's say that the yellow cum whore has to be in one of our offices for us to be allowed to help her on her path."

"That works for me, Trip." I reach out and he shakes my hand firmly.

"Tremendous! Now, what are your plans for this weekend? The wife and I are going to be in the Vineyard, and I think you should come up and join us. How does that sound?"

"Great, Trip, just great, it's been way too long since I've been out, I'd love to see the old stomping grounds." Suddenly I feel a fantastic torrent of warmth and stickiness swirling around my dick, and my first thought is that you've gagged and vomited on us, and I'm about to insist that Trip discipline you (being in his office and all, his rules) but then I realize that Trip has cum. Apparently speaking of the Vineyard put him over the edge! Ha! I feel him spurting, hard, again and again, but looking at his face you'd barely know it. The same calm, composed expression is still locked in place, and yet his dick feels like it's emptied a gallon of cum into your mouth, and it's still going.

I look down and see you gagging hard, swallowing visibly, your throat spasming as you try to take his cum down without choking yourself. I contemplate pulling out and letting you have an easier time of it, but then I remember what you tried to do this morning and I figure I can start your punishment early, rules or no. I feel you gagging again and again, trying desperately to swallow, and it seems like you've somehow managed o get most of him down, your face calming just a bit, so I thrust forward gently, pushing the head of my cock along the back of your tongue, tickling the front of your throat just enough trigger another round of gagging, and then I feel your throat clenching hard around me, realize you're about to vomit, so I pull back and then out, Trip following suit. His dick is still semi-hard and glistening with saliva and cum; mine is rigid and the head has a thick coating of Trip's cum on it. He laughs, looking down at us, and I do to, and then I take my cock in my hand and rub the head against your face, over your lips and your cheeks and forehead, being sure to leave your hair in thick clumps as I clean my dick of Trip's cum all over your face. He does the same, and when we're done, your normally cute little Asian face is a mess of sticky drying cum and saliva. You kneel on the floor, silent.

"Well, that was a decent way to start the day," said Trip, grinning as he tucked himself back into his suit pants and zipping up. "Glad we could have this talk, Taylor. Nice work on the presentation, again, by the way, simply top notch!"

"Thank you, Trip, that means a lot coming from you."

"My pleasure, Brad. So, I'll let you know about the Vineyard, yes?"

"Looking forward to it." We both look down at you, still kneeling on the carpet, naked above the waist, face and hair an absolute mask of quickly drying cum. "I'll, ah, get this mess out of your way."

Trip laughs, "Great, thanks, I appreciate it." He turns to you, "I'm very pleased, sweetie. I do hope you've listened to what I've said to you this morning. Keep working hard and you'll go far here."

I smirk, and Trip laughs at his own joke. He waves his hand casually in your direction, turning to sit at his desk, moving papers, "Now get that out of here, would you Taylor?"

I pull you to your feet and let you walk a few feet behind me, out of Trip's office, past the cubicle farm and into mine. Your unbuttoned blouse and bra loosely draped over your shoulders, and there are a few people who see you walk past, half topless, your face covered in some white substance, but no one says a word. Your state gets about as much comment as a delivery of snacks for the vending machine would. Just seems natural, somehow.

We go into my office, and I pull a bottled water from the refrigerator, twisting it open and taking a long drink before upending the remaining water over your head. It washes down through your hair and over your face, soaking you, and I see you shiver badly in the cool air. "Wash yourself off a little bit, would you? It's embarrassing." You obediently rub your hands over your face, washing most of the cum down your neck, off your face. Your hair is soaking, plastered against your scalp. You look like a mess.

"Now, Lisa, I know you heard the rules that Mr. Martin laid out, yes?"

"Y-Yes, sir," you whisper.

"Well, I'm glad you remembered the 'sir,' at least. But needless to say, I'm very, very upset that you seemed to just ignore the rest of what I had taught you yesterday. It's like I was just talking to myself the whole time. I hope you understand how frustrating that can be."

I suddenly yank your now drenched blouse and bra off your shoulders and throw them to the floor, startling you for a moment.

"Unngh! Yes, sir."

"Good. And then you understand that I really have no choice but to punish you." You slowly nod. "To let you get away with your disobedience would be akin to not smacking a dog after it takes a crap on your carpet. You'd just be telling that dog that what it did was okay."

"Yes, sir." Your voice is barely above a whisper, and I can see you shivering, your tiny shoulders shaking hard, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, but I can still see your tiny brown nipples are puckered and erect on your small round breasts. 

"So, let's see. There's obviously your disgraceful behavior in going to Trip and complaining. That's just ridiculous, and I think we can both rest assured that something like that will never happen again. Will it, cunt?"

"No sir... I promise," you say, now with total resignation.

"Good, I didn't think so. But there are other things that I cannot avoid punishing you for that are simply inexcusable, and that have made me incredibly upset. First of all, your glasses. I know that I specifically told you to wear your glasses. And yet you wore contacts today. Take them out, now."

"I won't be able to see, sir."

I undo my belt and pull it out of the loops. It's leather, brown, supple, expensive. I double it in my hand and tap it lightly against your right thigh, just hard enough to elicit a soft squeal from you. "Don't ever fucking talk back to me, you filthy cunt."

"Yes sir, yes sir." You quickly remove your contacts.

"Drop them. You won't need them anymore."

You let the thin plastic slip from your fingers into the thick carpet.

"Good. So there's that. Every day, from now on, you will wear your glasses to the office. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, next. Take off your pants."

You quickly unzip the tight black slacks and pull them down over your slim brown legs, stepping out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. You're wearing a pair of white satin bikini panties with nothing but strings connecting the front and back panels.

"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, my little Asian whore flower, as pretty as those are, I also know that I specifically told you that you no longer needed to wear panties to work. And yet I see you wearing panties. Why?"

"I thought..."

I lunge forward and push you back hard onto the floor, onto your back, landing atop you, straddling you, pinning you to the ground with my body. My hand goes to your throat and grips you tight, squeezing hard, choking you for a good ten seconds until tears are streaming from your eyes. Then I relax my grip and slowly stand up off you. You gasp loudly, choking and gagging and rubbing your reddening throat.

"Lisa. There's absolutely no reason for you to be thinking from now on. Don't you see, we -- Trip and I -- from now on we'll be doing all your thinking for you. It will be so much easier for you, so much simpler. No decisions, no choices, all you need to be worried about is obeying us, and everything else will be easy." My voice is calm and stoic, just loud enough to be heard over your ragged gasps.

"Good. Now, why are you wearing those panties?"

Still laying on the carpet, you manage to gasp out a harsh-voiced "I-...I'm sorry, sir."

"Hmm, okay. You're sorry." I slowly push my belt back through the loops, notching it snugly around my waist. "That's a start. But you do understand that between your panties and your contacts and everything else that you've done this morning, there's ample reason for you to be punished?"

You dip your head, your chin resting on your chest as you whisper "Yes, sir."

"Get rid of the panties." You pull them off your slim legs, your pussy still with fine black hair on the triangle between your thighs. "Oh dear. Well, I hope I don't have to tell you that I'm disappointed about that as well. And I can promise you that if Trip had cared enough to want to fuck your dirty yellow gook cunt, he would have said something as well. I'm quite certain he will want you to be clean-shaven and totally bare the next time either of us see you."

"Yes sir, I will... I promise." was your only meek reply.

"I know you will, good girl. Now for your punishment."

I step to the door of my office and call to my assistant to come in for a moment. He quickly enters, eager to please as always. He's a fairly young kid, Brian, two years out of college, looks kind dopey with his curly blonde hair and European-cut suit, but he's the son of one of our big clients' COOs, so we had to bring him in.

He enters, sees you on the floor naked, sitting up now, your arms around your knees. "Uh, Mr. Taylor?"

"Don't worry, Brian, everything's okay. Isn't that so, Lisa?"

"Yes sir."

"You see Brian? It's cool. Now, you're going to help me with a special project today. Lisa here has been especially disobedient this morning, and, for her own good, she needs to learn the error of her ways. She's told me she's sorry, but that's not quite enough, is it Lisa?"

"No sir." you sniffle.

"Great. So, Brian, I'm going to need you to open your fly there... no, leave your pants on, just the fly, thanks -- and pull your cock out. Great."

He stands there, semi-hard dick hanging out over his well-creased pants, hesitant. "So Brian, for the purposes of this project, you and I are going to double-penetrate this little Asian whore." I ignore his shocked sputtering and continue, "Brian, have you ever DP'd a slut before?"

He stares at me, sees that I'm completely serious, and stutters, "Uh, um, well, yeah, there were these two sluts that used to hang around the frat house. I used to bang them with some of the brothers sometimes, after parties and shit, you know."

"That's great, Brian, awesome, good for you. So you know how it is. Well, today you're going to have a chance to do something special, something new. I assume these two sluts at school were white, no?"

I can see he's warming up to the idea now, "Yeah, these two cum dumpsters -- that's what we used to call them -- little rich girls who thought they were getting back at daddy or impressing us or some shit by fucking every guy in the house. Dumb cunts, right?"

"Exactly, Brian, dumb cunts -- but white cunts. What you're about to experience is something different. You're going to get to fuck a yellow cunt. Now, these white girls you used to DP back in college, they probably thought they were acting like sluts, that they were being real whores by fucking anything that moved, right?" I don't wait for him to respond. "But Lisa here, she's Vietnamese. Which means she's a special cunt. A gook cunt. Now, I know you've seen Full Metal Jacket, right Brian?"

"Ha, yep, I know what you're talking about, 'Me love you long time!' "

"Exactly. So you know that gook cunts are especially fond of American cock. They can't get enough of it. It's basically what they were put on earth to do, suck and fuck white American cock. Isn't that right, slut?"

"Yes... sir." You don't even look up.

"So, I'm giving you the special opportunity to get to help me punish this bad little gook slut by pounding her dirty yellow gook cunt while I fuck her hard in the ass. I do hope you appreciate the gift I'm giving you."

"I do, thank you Mr. Taylor!"

"It's Brad, Brian, just Brad." I smile broadly at the kid, his dick having rapidly risen to full erection, now pointing straight out in front of him, right at your face.

"Now," I continue, "as I'm guessing you know from your prior experience, the logistics of this can be somewhat difficult." He smiles and nods. "But this is something that needs to be done, as Lisa knows, it's for her own good. So I have faith that we can make it work."

"So do I... Brad." 

"Well why don't we start by having you lay down on your back, Brian, on the carpet?"

I watch as he carefully lays himself down on his back, in front of you, his cock falling back to rest on the stomach of his white dress shirt.

"Great, now, gook slut -- that's you, Lisa -- climb on top of him and let's get that cock of his up in your worthless little yellow pussy. Brian, you're going to notice that she smells a bit different from the white girls you've fucked before, and you'll see that her pussy lips are darker. That's quite normal with these Asian whores."

You pick yourself up off the carpet, and I smile as I see the check imprint that the thick pile has made in your pale brown ass. You dutifully straddle the boy, six years younger than you, this guy with no experience at the firm, no seniority, basically the lowest run in the corporate totem pole. Except for you, of course. You position yourself over him and lower your cunt onto his cock, letting him guide himself inside of you, watching his face as he moves up inside you, slowly, waiting silently until your dripping cunt has taken him all the way in and your ass and thighs are resting on his body. 

"Okay, great, nice work Brian. Now, fuck whore, lean forward." You bend at the waist and lower your body over Brian, your tiny tits over his face, your hard brown nipples tantalizingly close to him mouth, and I see him flick his tongue out to lick you. "Uh uh, Brian, please don't do that. She might get the stupid fucking idea that this is somehow for her pleasure. That's exactly the opposite of what we're trying to teach her today. This is not about her, this is about me, and you. If she gets any pleasure from this experience, it should result solely from the pleasure of knowing that she is fulfilling her proper role by pleasing her masters."

"Yeah, got it." He shifts his hips, grinding his dick into your cunt, and your moan softly, your eyes shut tight.

"You'll notice that her yellow cunt is already wet. Further evidence of her instinctive need to please men like me and you. You probably didn't know this, but she spent the morning sucking off Trip and myself, and that, plus the thought of being punished by you and I, has naturally soaked her worthless gook twat."

I move behind you, looking down at your tight, smooth brown ass, watching Brian's white cock pumping slowly in and out of your cunt, seeing your pussy sliding back and forth over him, watching your lips grip and release him, seeing you drip down the thick vein running along the bottom of this shaft. It doesn't seem possible that there's room for me to squeeze my own cock into your ass. It looks like trying to do so would split you in two, or at least cause you a ton of pain. So I'm gonna make it happen. 

I kneel down, straddling Brian's outstretched legs, feeling the soft wool of his suit pants beneath me. I pull my cock back out of my pants and shuffle forward, watching, mesmerized, as your little brown bottom moves up and down on him. Then I reach out and grab your hips, holding you at the top of your stroke so that you're perched up high on his dick, your cunt barely covering his head. I hold you in place, knowing that your slim calves and thighs are going to start burning very quickly from the awkward position. I move forward and push the head of my cock between your spread ass cheeks, pushing up against your sphincter before thrusting in hard. When my head pops inside you, you scream. 

I pause a moment, and then push again, moving a little bit further inside you. You groan loudly in pain, but I push again. It's the only way for you to learn your lesson. "Shhh, Lisa, shh, it'll be okay. You know, don't you, that you brought this on yourself? You made this happen, I don't want to do this, Brian doesn't want to do this, neither of us are happy about it. This is solely for your benefit. To help you. Let us help you, Lisa. Let us help you become the dirty yellow slut you're meant to be."

You scream again as I push deeper, almost burying myself in you now, feeling Brian motionless beneath us, not daring to move his cock except to follow my rhythm inside you so that both of us are now stuffed three quarters of the way inside you. It feels like this is as far as we can go, your brown little cunt and ass are unbelievably tight around us, there's really no way we can go any further. So I push deeper, and you fall forward onto Brian, your head bowing into his chest, trying desperately to open yourself up just a little bit more while you moan and sputter and drool uncontrollably, pain ripping through your little frame, all emanating from your twin holes, crammed full of white cock. 

I stop for a moment, resting, feeling the panic in your body, seeing the muscles of your back tensing and spasming as you try to relax, hearing your gasps and grunts, you turn and look back at me, your eyes glazed with pain and lust and hate, snot dripping from your nose, saliva on your chin, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Good girl, Lisa. Take it. This is what happens if you disobey me. The sooner you embrace who you are, the better it will be for all of us."

Then I push forward one last time, burying my dick in you, knocking you forward onto Brian so that I'm almost standing behind you, pushing my dick down into you at an impossible angle, Brian and I jutting out of your cunt and ass, both our rigid shafts taut and glistening. I see your head drop.

"Uh, I think she's passed out." Brian is trying to shift his head from beneath yours, looking up past your shoulder.




Lisa Learns Her Place Ch. 02



"She'll wake up. How do you like working here?"

"You know, it's not bad, I guess."

"Do you have enough to do? I mean, I hope I'm keeping you busy with assignments and whatnot."

"Oh, yeah, there's plenty, and the other execs find stuff for me to do if you don't. I'm learning a lot, I think."

"Great, well, be sure to let me know if there's something I can do."

"No problem, Brad. And thanks, for this, I mean."

"Huh? Oh, right, this." I nod with my head towards the passed-out gook whore with our dicks buried in her holes. "Ha, no problem. Happy to share. But do me a favor, huh?"

"Sure, name it."

"Don't mention this to anyone just yet. Right now it's just you, me and Trip who know about her, and we'd like to keep it that way for at least a little while. But I'm planning to do an officewide roll-out very soon. Let everyone know about our office Asian fucktoy."

"Sounds good, no problem man. Oh, hey, looks like she's awake."

Indeed I see your head moving, and feel your ass clenching around me once more. "Oh good, welcome back, whore. Hopefully that will be the last time that happens."

"Y-yes sir," you whimper, barely able to speak, wincing and gritting your teeth in pain.

"Nice." I begin slowly moving my dick in and out of you, fucking your tiny butt, Brian and I sliding our dicks slowly in and out of you, each tiny movement causing splitting pain in your body, but somehow your pussy remains dripping wet. Seems it's not all that bad for you. "So, Brian," I resume our chat over your shoulder, "Where do you usually end up after work?"

"Well, me and a couple of the other assistants usually go to "Faces," on 45th. You know it?"

"Yeah, sure, the place with all the celebrity paintings on the walls, the caricatures."

"Yep, that's it. It's not bad, drinks are kinda expensive, but you'll have that anywhere."

"Yeah, you're telling me." I adjust my angle a little bit to increase pressure on my cockhead. You moan softly in response, it's difficult to tell whether it's pleasure or pain or both, but it doesn't really matter anyway. "What do you think about working with McGuire?"

"Honestly, he's kind of a douche. He's always giving me a hard time about showing up late."

"Fuck him. You're my assistant, I'll give you a hard time if you're not here. Next time he gives you shit, tell him to fuck off, and tell him I said so!"

"Ha, cool, will do, thanks."

"No problem. Listen, you about done over there? I think she's probably had enough for now."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay, let's finish this up." I thrust into your body as hard as I can, suddenly, and you cry out, sobbing, and then I just as quickly pull out of you. The second emptiness draws a strong stink into the room out of your ass, and Brian and I both laugh. "Told you, bro. They've got a smell all their own."

"Jesus, you weren't fucking kidding." Brian pulls out too, pushing your little body up off of his, climbing out from under you, leaving you laying on the carpet in the pool of your pussy juices and sweat.

"Same time?" I gesture towards your collapsed body.

"Yeah, sure!"

"Fuck, wait one second!" I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone again, and start up the video recording app. "Okay, let's do it. Lisa, don't make me ask."

You pull yourself to your knees, somehow, your naked body rug burned and flushed, sweat and precum and your own pussy fluid everywhere. You kneel in front of us, look up at the two of us, and say, "P-Please sirs... cum on me."

We laugh and stroke our cocks, once, twice, then he's cumming, and I'm right behind him, spurting hard onto your face, your neck, your chest, all of it captured on video, great white gobs of cum splattering on you, dripping slowly down your body over your nipples, down over your stomach, down between your thighs, and more follows, seemingly endless, until finally we're both spent.

"Nice work. Take a picture if you want."

"Cool." Brian whips out his cell and takes a couple snaps of you kneeling in front of us, absolutely drenched in cum. "Got it. Oh, and could you send me the video too?"

"Sure thing. Alright, get on back out there and do some work or something."

"Will do, boss!"

"And Brian?" He turns, tucking his cock back into his pants as he does. "Call me Brad."

"Will do, Brad!"

I turn back to you, thick cum dripping off your chin. "Lisa? Tomorrow? No earrings. No contacts. No panties. And shave your fucking cunt."

"Unnnhh... yes, s-sir."