"Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on," droned the minister.

The mourners nodded their heads in dutiful silence, huddling under

black umbrellas as the incessant drizzle misted downward from the gray-

black sky.  It was a large crowd-- bank employees, business partners,

golf mates, neighbors, and those who had known him in all his various

guises as a pillar of the community.  Robert Parker Baines had been

known and admired by so many in Bentson County.  The sudden heart

attack that had stricken him while in the midst of a bank meeting had

taken them all by surprise.

Kathryn stood behind the minister, somber and thoughtful as he read

benediction over her father's funeral.  The recent divorcee appeared

calm and in control, under the circumstances.  It was her father's

steely eyes that surveyed the crowd, taking an account of all who had

come to pay respects.

Briefly those eyes rested, emotionlessly, on Amy.  She had purposely

chosen an unobtrusive spot on the edge of the group, somewhat

embarrassed about her attire.  It would draw attention if she didn't

attend the funeral of her boss Mr. Baines and there had been no time to

shop for a suitable outfit.  She had gritted her teeth and slipped into

the closest thing she had to proper mourning garb-- a black spandex

miniskirt, a form-fitting sleeveless black turtle neck, black stockings

and her four inch black spike heels.  The looks of the other mourners

had warned her to seek a place in the back, stares that announced she

was a stupid little slut who didn't know any better that to dress that

way for a funeral.

Kathryn had discovered her effortlessly, as if she knew Amy would be

there. Their eyes locked for a moment in the space of the gray, wet

air, then returned to the minister.

"Robert Baines will always be remembered as a paragon, an example

for others to follow.  Those of you who knew him closely know that

just in the last few years he displayed a love for life that was

inspiring..."

Memories of Robert Parker Baines flooded Amy Walenski. She tensed

a remembrance gripped her in a vise, palms flattening against her

thighs.  Two years ago...

The 'breaking in' period.  Dressing and acting to please her new boss.

Learning to endure the humiliating comments of the other female

employees, the subtle, then not so subtle, leers from the male workers.

Learning to giggle at the filthiest joke males would tell, all

while Baines watched.  Ordered to ask advice of the male co-workers in

the most intimate, teasing way possible just HOW could she make her

hubby happy, anyway, and what did men like most in bed?  Instructed

to constantly pore over lingerie catalogs like they were riveting

novels, agonizing over each potential purchase in public-- "The pink

lace teddy or the red bustiere...what do YOU think, Ted?"  No friends

at the bank- - who would want a slut for a friend?  Every spare minute

away from Baines spent shopping for sexy clothes, or shaping her body

with aerobics or tanning herself at the Gold-a-Rama, all to make

herself look more appetizing for HIM.  And the used condoms left,

purposely, in the bedroom for Wendell to find the next morning when he

trudged home from work.  The tired, disgusted looks from an increasing

drunken Wendell in the rare moments they were together...

"-- a man whose sense of propriety and Christian piety was well known

to those lucky enough to spend any time with him--"  Amy wanted to

laugh out loud.  Her eyes lost focus as the scenes played out in the

cinema of her mind.  Twenty-one months ago...

The 'rules' period.  Baines laying down very explicit dictates that Amy

must obey to the letter.  Doing the "four to eight," that wa wa way

Amy was taught to think of it. It referred to the way she would walk

from now on.  "Imagine you are standing on the face of a clock, Amy,"

his polished voice instructed, "now make sure with every step, you

swing your hips first to the four o'clock, then with the next step to

the eight o'clock."  The result-- an exaggerated pivot that was

designed to communicate an attention- inviting sultry saunter.

Other posture rules.  Whenever standing, feet no closer than two feet

apart to give her an overly "available" look, accentuated by her ever-

present hip-hugging miniskirts.  Lips to be kept wet and slightly open

at all times when not speaking, giving her an arousing if somewhat

stupid facial expression.  When in the presence of any man or men,

eyelashes to bat three times a minute while looking directly at the

male speaker.

Amy was only permitted two expressions now-- an ecstatic, flirty smile

or a pouty frown, depending on the situation.  One palm to be kept on

her hip at all times when standing or walking, the other to clutch a

pencil and notepad, unless performing a special errand for her

superior. Chest to be thrust out at ALL TIMES like a military school

cadet.

Clothing rules.  All new clothing to be modeled in the privacy of Mr.

Baines' office to ensure the building of an appropriate wardrobe.  All

shopping restricted to either junior miss clothing or "club" clothes,

giving her two alternating 'looks': the first that of a shyly

suggestive high schooler in her clingy angora sweaters, poodle skirts,

lacy ankle stockings and pink heels; the second that of a night

club-hopping working girl on a nighttime adventure, in her leather

miniskirts, see- through black lace tops, seamed black stockings and

stiletto black heels.  The visible pantyline rule-- no miniskirt,

shorts or hot pants purchased unless the pantyline was clearly visible

at a reasonable distance.  All of which necessitated many clothing

returns and caused the shopgirls at K-Mart to groan whenever the

"clothes horse" secretary trotted into the store.

Amy learning about the importance of taking her education in slutdom

very seriously.  Because whenever any of Mr. Baines' many rules were

broken...

"He was a good man, full of caring and patience-"  Shame, HER

shame, snapped up hard against her dwindling self-control.  Her brown

eyes reddened, damming back tears.  A year and a half ago...

Amy kneeling under Baines' desk, wearing a black g-string and high

heels, her wrists securely handcuffed behind her back. Her heavily

lipsticked mouth jammed against his semi-erect cock, her lips and

tongue trying to coax him toward relief for the third time that

afternoon. The frequent sounds of phone conversations and the tap of

the keyboard as Baines tended to his executive responsibilities, even

as she labored to serve his desires.  Pain spiking through her nipples

as he pinched them cruelly, twisting them upward, signaling his

displeasure with her efforts under his desk.  But the worst part, the

awful reality that she was now wet between her legs, hoping she would

be allowed to masturbate before the end of the day as a reward for

servicing her boss with satisfactory sluttishness...

"--with a respect for all people, an abiding trust in the American

dream of continuous improvement based on hard work--"   She should be

smiling now that it was all over, but as the other mourners eyed her

with disdain, all she could think of was how he had made her look to

them, how fifteen months ago he had...

Mr. Baines training her in new "office etiquette," Amy being taught the

proper way to conduct herself in her position as Mr. Baine's personal

secretary.  Expected to keep her nails PERFECT, her hair PERFECT,

her make-up PERFECT at all times, this ensured by the rule that when

not doing carrying out a chore, Amy must file her nails, primp with her

hair and re-apply lipstick and make-up at her desk, doing each at least

three times an hour.  Instructed to reply to any questions regarding

business with the same line: "I don't get it" or "I don't understand,"

thus cementing the impression that if you were dealing with Amy, you were

dealing with an airhead.  Baine's command that she ask at least three

different men at the bank if they liked her outfits and the way she

dressed-- daily.  The men sneering, talking down to her because of it.

The embarrassing things Mr. Baines made her say and do, as if she

were doing them out of free will.  Like when there was a general

meeting of all the employees-- that had been especially humiliating.

When the head of human resources had asked if anyone had any

questions, Amy had raised her hand and in front of the entire bank had

asked when condom machines might be installed in the ladies room.

Mr. Baines had feed her the line and laughed out loud in disgust as

soon as she had asked it, her cheeks burning in shame. The way he had

told her to dress for the annual bank Halloween party-- as a Playboy

Bunny. The way the women kept their boyfriends and husbands as far

away from her as they could and the way she had been fondled and

groped through the whole evening by virtually all the bank's male

employees...  Mr. Baines watching impassively as she was pinched and

patted on her bunny tail, as his dazed and confused secretary smiled in

dumb shame.

"...a wise executive whose business career was long and distinguished,

a man respected by those he dealt with..." Amy's brown eyes trickling

two wet beads. A year ago...

Trembling, Amy asking the clerk in the Adult Novelties Shop the name

and price of each and every dildo and vibrator for sale.  Trying to

hold back tears as she obediently wrote down the information on a pad

to report back to Mr. Baines, while the scruffy clerk looked her over

and slowly, very slowly, gave her the information so important to her.

Mr. Baines angry, sending her back to the store the next day. How could

he make a decision without knowing what colors they were available in?

Her arousal almost constant now, a lusty flush on her face from

morning to night for all to see...

"...a man who believed in helping people achieve their greatest hopes

and desires..."  Amy winced,  still seeing herself eight months ago...

Amy sitting across from Ms. Jensen in the bank cafeteria, the woman

executive Amy had invited to have lunch with her.  Despite her

increasingly slutty appearance and bimbo reputation, the up-and-

coming Ms. Jensen had readily agreed, pleased to advise another

woman how to succeed in the banking world.  Amy had always

admired Ms. Jensen-- her success (a vice president like Mr. Baines at

only twenty-eight!), her assertiveness, her openly avowed feminism and

confident attitude.  And it was those qualities that had made this

lunch meeting so important to Mr. Baines.  Because Ms. Jensen was a

rival, one that needed to be reminded of  a woman's "proper place".

Amy sitting across from the female executive, the rest of the bank

employees filling up the small cafeteria.  Smiling lamely at the woman,

watching Mr. Baines, beseeching him from across the room with her

eyes.  DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS!  PLEASE  PLEASE

PLEASE...but the cold slate eyes ignoring the silent, screaming plea.

Ms. Jensen looking worried...

"Are you all right Amy?  You look flushed."  Ms. Jensen's kind,

worried words, the concerned look...

Mr. Baines adjusting the small remote control in his hand, the

thrumming of the vibrator increasing between Amy's legs...

"Do you need some water or something?"  The sharp young vice

president more suspicious now-- was there more to this casual meeting

than met the eye?  Over her shoulder, her boss turning the remote up

faster now...

Amy's lips parted, the sigh of bliss betraying her building orgasm.

The throbbing vibrator within faster and faster, Baines' laughter as

she began to moan uncontrollably.

The woman executive backing away in disgust.  "Amy, I'm, uh,

flattered, but I--"

Amy bucking now, biting her slips and moaning like a slut in heat, all

the time keeping her eyes locked on the other woman.  The snickers

from the other employees and the horror on Ms. Jensen's face as it

dawned on her that they might think, the rest of the bank might assume

she and Amy were, but no--

Mr. Baines racketing up the vibrator to full and Amy feeling the hot,

shaming desires wetten her panties and now skirt, as the rest of the

employees watched the whorish performance in mingled fascination

and disdain.  Ms. Jensen leaving the bank shortly thereafter amid

rumors that she was a lesbian...

"...a well-known and extremely generous supporter of the arts in his

community..."   Her arms clutched her chest, holding the brewing storm

within.  It was over, she had to keep remembering that, it was all

over. But only six months ago...

The video camera whirring as Amy cupped her small breasts through

the red lace push-up bra, with a dirty smile for the camera.  The

yellow neon light of the cheap hotel blinking through the window.

Baines muting the audio, then instructing her specifically what to do

next...or else.  The secretary kneeling on the gray, unwashed sheets of

the hotel bed, her hands dropping to seek out the object he wants her

to play with.  Spreading her knees, a puckered kiss for the lens as she

slipped off the red lace thong panty and inserts the impossibly long

black rubber dildo into her tight, smooth bare sex.  Baines clicking

the audio back on, Amy beginning to moan, her performance gaining more

tempo as she gyrates her hips with the huge prong driven deep between

her legs.  As she played for the camera, Mr. Baines offering the

revelation that her cherished Sexylicious gum was actually a

combination low-grade narcotic AND aphrodisiac...

"A humane man, one who cared so much for others and so little for

himself--"  Amy was trembling as her face contorted in pain, the

mascara running a black river down her face as she thought back just

two months ago...

Amy kneeling on the carpet, naked except for a black lace corset with

garters and her stiletto heels--- and a dog collar attached to a leash

held tightly by her lord and master, Mr. Baines.  He was giving her

more orgasm training.

"Frig, bitch, frig!"

Amy's fingers darted to her smooth, tight pussy, one inserting itself

others danced lewdly around the pink, quivering lips.  She was

wet immediately and he gave her the reward of a pat on the head.

"Good girl, good little bitch!  Now STOP!"

The finger popped out.

"And LICK!"

The finger found it's way into her mouth and she sucked it dry of her

juice. It was a familiar taste by now.  She knew it as well as she

knew the taste of Mr. Baine's sperm.

"And HEEL!"

She dropped to her fours, spreading her legs and sticking her bare ass

high in the air for her master.  Her master mounted her from behind,

penetrating Amy in the orifice least pleasurable to her, but as he did,

Amy moaned and bucked. In the mirror, Baines could see Amy's dirty

girl leer, her panting mouth, her hungry lips and tongue, the way the

nipples on her small, pert breasts were as hard as angry red diamonds.

He could feel her young body give way to his assault, accepting the

large demanding rod into her tight anal channel.  He rammed home

hard and she cried, in pain and simulated joy, Amy's knees shaking

now.  He could feel it building within him, a roaring river crashing

against her.  He exploded within her, filling her insides with his

creamy geyser.

"And CUM!"

Amy moaned louder, louder, louder, then arched her back in angelic

release.  Baines smiled and pulled out roughly, leaving the secretary

panting on the floor, her ass filled with his jism.  It was all

counterfeit, all make-believe-- but she MUST make him believe. When he

came, she must cum.   He tugged on the leash and Amy looked up in fear.

Had she been convincing?  The whip marks on her ass were still red

from having failed the last time.

He yanked the leash up, patting her head and she rose gratefully to her

knees. She had been a good little bitch for Mr. Baines, she thought in

relief.  Because she had cummed on command for him.  Mr. Baines

wouldn't beat her this time!  She had finally done it right!  Later

that night, she would rethink every motion, every moan, making sure she

performed her orgasm the same way next time he used her.  But for

now, she must force her attention on the next task at hand.  She waited

patiently for the next command, which inevitably followed.

"And CLEAN!"

With tears of relief flowing from her eyes, she gingerly took hold of

the soiled cock and began to make love to it with her mouth, her slut

secretary mouth...

"And above all, Robert Baines was a kind man, a gentleman without an

evil thought in his entire being, who left his mark on everyone he

touched...." Self-disgust gripped Amy as she choked hoarsely on salty

tears. Just two weeks ago...

Sweat beading on Amy's forehead as the expert worked below, her

brain spinning with desperate curiosity and dread.  The nerves in the

delicate flesh twitching, tickling with each tease of the deftly

wielded metal tip as it danced over her skin.  Baines cupping her chin,

her weak, slutty smile back at him begging for approval.  "This iis ii

way it must be."  Her submissive, accepting nod.  The body painter

finishing, giving Baines a nod.  "Look."  Amy looking down between her

legs, the small space above her pink lips eternally adorned with a

tattoo of a throbbing heart.  It's center filled with one word:

"Bimbo."  Baines comforting her: "Don't worry, pretty girl.  You'll

STILL be able to wear your thong bikini for me..."