One session with her boss in the anonymity of a motel room was enough to cure Marge of any serious leanings she thought she might have toward all-out female dominance. It was exciting at first, stripping down to her nylon hose and garter belt then putting on the boots and leather chastity belt with the broad waist cinch buckled above her hips. The leather bra Jim had was made to show the nipples of tits much larger than hers, so Marge pitched it away before she picked up the whip and began parading tauntingly around the room for him.
It turned her on a little to walk on his naked, prostrate body, digging the spike heels of the thigh-high black boots he'd bought for the special occasion into his more than willing flesh. She didn't mind flogging him, either. In fact, it gave her a perverted thrill to lash him and hear his moan of painful bliss as he jerked and writhed about. But she tired of this unusual, strenuous sport before he'd had enough. He wanted her to draw blood with the whip, and she couldn't bring herself to go quite that far.
His disappointment was evident, but it didn't stop him from groveling at her feet when, at his urging, she stripped naked and sat down on the edge of the bed. He began at the soles of her feet, holding them one at a time as he slavishly licked every possible inch of each sweaty foot then sucked each red-nailed toe individually.
Shrimping, Jim called it, but whatever its name, this part of their illicit interlude was highly enjoyable for Marge. Having her legs licked wasn't bad, either, and she loved it when he spit-bathed her buttocks, especially when he got going in the crack of her ass, the tip of his tongue tickling her anus every time it swept past. Then he pried apart her asscheeks and started eating her asshole itself, sucking it and tongue-fucking it as if it were a miniature cunt.
Marge was ready to cum when Jim ruined it all by requesting that she honor him with a turd. He actually wanted her to start shitting and allow him to eat her excrement directly from her body while it came sliding out of her butthole.
Just the thought of doing such an unspeakably filthy thing turned Marge off. She refused to oblige him, but after much begging on his part, she finally agreed to give him a piss shower. They went into the john and Jim sat in the tub, his knees drawn up to his chest, while she stood above him spraddle-legged and urinated down onto his upturned, enraptured face.
The next day at work she had no respect for her boss whatsoever, which only made him all the more eager to become her complete and devoted slave.
Day after day he pleaded for another session in a motel, but Marge kept putting him off. He made her sick now. She started looking for another job and found one much more to her liking – day hostess at a really nice restaurant – before she quit without notice, leaving Jim in the same predicament which she'd bailed him out of in the first place.