Debby By The Collector The true meaning of passionate, feminine strength Copyright 1998 The Collector This story is adult in nature and contains sexual content. It should not be read by anyone under 21. Send comments to ChuckSt35@aol.com Note: This story is based on a very special relationship I had with Debby, her real name, several years ago. I have taken the liberty of poetic license, but she was, to me, the most incredible, passionate woman I’ve ever known. I was her boss, but she always knew which buttons to push with me, as I did with her. Hope you enjoy it. I went into the payroll office, looking for Debby, trying to find out why the week’s payroll wasn’t finished. Debby was more than competent, so I knew whatever the problem it was in good hands. Still, being ultimately responsible, I was obligated to find out what the problem was. I was surprised when I walked in to find Debby kicked back in a chair, her shoes off and feet propped up on her desk reading a novel, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Just because I was her boss was no reason for her to look busy! We’d known each other too long and knew each other too well and were, in fact, very much alike, with a couple of major exceptions, to which she clearly held the upper hand. While she was genuinely a good person, she was not afraid to tell anyone what she thought and would stick to her guns under all adversity. She was moody, bitchy and yet could be the sweetest person in the world…until she got mad. We came very close to crawling between the sheets several times, or so I thought, but in the end was resigned to being the butt of her teasing, not that I totally minded. It amazed me how she was able to see right through me. She always dressed to kill…even at work. She was wearing a sleeveless yellow dress that clung to her body. With her legs up on the desk, the slits in her dress revealed full, muscular, thighs that were perfectly shaped and looked as though they could crush me instantly, mercilessly. “How’s payroll coming?” I asked. She looked up at me and just stared for a second. Then she gave me a smart assed smirk and returned to her book. Speaking, but not looking at me she said, “It’s being handled. Don’t worry about it.” When she was in one of these moods, I knew I had to be gentle with her. I asked as polite as I could be “Is payroll going to be finished on time?” She slammed the book shut, got up from the desk, and came to confront me. She stood inches from my face, about two inches shorter than me, hands on her hips, and looked me in the eye. “Which word didn’t you hear?” She asked. Her beauty was intimidating enough. She was close enough that I could smell every fragrance, see the anger in her steely eyes, and pleasingly, her full lips. Her long brown hair was yet another attraction drawing me closer to her. Blushing, I said, “I just wanted to make sure checks would be out on time.” I wanted to reach for her, yet I backed away. She saw the lack of confidence immediately. I knew she would start taunting and teasing me, though there was nothing I could do about it. It was an effect only she had on me. She sat down in her chair as she reached for her shoes, hi heeled slip on sandals that showed off her muscular calves. As she put them on, she made sure the slit of her dress revealed her stunning legs in total. They were the picture of total power and sensuality. She got up to confront me again, this time two inches taller than me, though I felt she were taller. I knew what was coming next and I reveled in it. I would see them only for a second, but it was a precious second. She moved her arms up and ran her hands through her luxuriant hair. As she did, her biceps got bigger and bigger till they became the size of oranges. She teased me with them as her hair danced around her face, a viscous smile the whole time. She placed her hands on her hips again, and that smirk appeared again. She moved closer. I had deliberately avoided looking at her breasts, but now it was unavoidable. The V in her dress was deliberate. Her breasts were larger than most, firm and round. She came to me just close enough for them to touch me. As she inhaled, they rose to greet me. She didn’t flinch, but enjoyed her game immensely. I often wondered whether she was tempting me or daring me. My one last salvation was to hold where I was, not back off for I knew she’d have me completely “I told you it was being handled, didn’t I?” she demanded. “I-I… just wanted to make sure.” She started to walk through me. I tried to hold where I was, but she was too strong. She forcibly walked me back to the door and closed it behind me. She gently took my hands in hers and brought them around her. “You weren’t listening very well, were you?” She just looked at me, not expecting an answer. She brought our hands back out front, then began exerting pressure downward on me. I held for a minute, then her superior strength began pushing me to the floor. I tried pushing back…but she just looked at me…and held my arms, my not being able to move hers even slightly…it was as though she felt no resistance from me. I watched as the muscles in her arms tensed, pure power radiating from them as though an unstoppable force, which to me they were. I heard her kick off her shoes. Once on the floor, she got on top of me, her thighs against my sides. She squeezed me hard, though I could tell she was barely trying, careful not to hurt me too bad. I let out a shriek in pain as she laughed at me. “What’s the matter, boss? Too much for you?” Her steely blue eyes pierced me, with a look that shook me, almost scared me, knowing what she’s capable of. “You…you’re hurting me.” “You didn’t think I could?” she taunted. She then began to slap me silly, forehand and backhand, till my face hurt. Tears began to well in my eyes. I struggled to free myself but couldn’t. If a hand got free, she’d hit it so hard, it would fly against the floor nearly breaking it. She got off me and dragged me up, nearly whimpering. She started to undo her dress. “Take your clothes off.” She commanded. She quickly slipped out of her dress, panties and bra. Her body was feminine, too feminine. I couldn’t help but wonder where her incredible strength came from, but it didn’t matter. “I said take your clothes off!” She ripped my shirt from me in a single motion as buttons flew and material was shredded. This was the first time I could really appreciate her power. She threw me to the floor and pulled my pants from me…still fastened and zipped. She was again on top of me, quickly overpowering me. I saw her face come towards me, her lips approaching mine, her eyes telling me more than words could have conveyed. Her lips reached mine, and her body became unleashed in an enraged passion I hadn’t known before. She conquered me, rode me as though my body was her personal plaything, which it was quickly becoming. I couldn’t keep up with her and she knew it so she dragged me along, my body going where hers went, out of control. What I couldn’t do, she made me. I found every inch of her body, every muscle, felt every nuance of power. She was so strong, her slightest movement threw me off balance. I peaked several times, never feeling such pleasure before or enjoying a woman, or what she’s capable of, so much. When she finished with me, she got up and put her clothes back on. I got up and grabbed my torn clothes. She got up, quickly dressed, not a hair out of place, reached in a file cabinet, and pulled out a box. “Oh, by the way”, she said. She handed me a box. ”Here are the checks.”