Custom - No names - "Humiliating Off-Site Meeting with the Boss. On the surface you have a friendly management style toward employees, but deep down you’re a fierce dominatrix and “size queen” who loves having power over men, including men like me—which comes out more and more with each passing minute of the video, especially after you see how poorly-endowed I am, and as you see how much sexual power you have to make me (your employee) do whatever you want. As for me, I’m your employee, I’m good at my job but I slack off when I can get away with it. We’ve worked together for a long time, but you were promoted “over” me a few years ago. I’m a bit arrogant at work, but now you’re discovering that I’m secretly a “sub”—mostly because I have a small dick, which I’m terrified that people will find out about. You walk in, sit and explain to me that you called this off-site meeting to discuss why I’m no longer allowed to sneak out and leave work early—but more importantly, you’ve noticed how I’m always checking you out in the office. You’ve caught me glancing up your skirt during the “weekly Monday morning staff meeting”; peeking at your cleavage by your desk, etc. You hear me deny it—and you call bullshit on that. You start teasingly leaning forward, showing off cleavage, and then upskirt views of your legs and panties, while explaining you wear dresses instead of suits because you like flaunting yourself, getting men to follow orders. You suddenly get bratty, ordering me to “strip”—and if I refuse, you’ll tell “H.R.” that I sexually h-------- you, and get me fired. I have no choice. You watch, amused, as I reluctantly strip. When I take off my boxer-briefs, you almost laughing at my tiny (still-soft) dick. Hold your thumb and finger apart, calling it a “dicklet,” and you have to leave the room to collect yourself. You return and whip out your phone, “taking” two photos of my dicklet. And now it’s clear I LIKE being humiliated. Then, giggling, order me not to touch my “little p-p. I’m not allowed to touch my “b b dick” until you say so and immediately launch into merciless SPH. Give me permission to jerk my “b b dick” slowly—but only with my thumb and one finger, because that’s all I deserve—or even need to jerk off. You explain that you “own” me now, and you have enough power over me for a little “confession time.” You confess your husband, “Ken,” is a tiny-dicked white-boy wimp just like me. You love to dominate him too, even him to eat his own cum. You admit, honest-confession style, that with short-dicked men, the only thing that really turns you on is dominating them—but deep down, you’re actually obsessed with well-hung, big-dicked men. You explain how, because I’m a “little-dicked ---,” it’s time for me to try tasting my own cum for the first time. You remind me that if I don’t do it, you’ll report me to H.R. for --------- ----------. You hear me say I don’t want to eat my own cum, but you explain I don’t have to really “eat” it all—not today, anyway. For now I need to “just try little a taste,” just a bit with the tip of my tongue. I don’t have to swallow. (“Lite” CEI.) You tell me to jerk faster, can tell I’m getting close, so you make a couple more mean SPH comments to push me over the edge. Then as I’m about to cum, you me to ruin my own orgasm by getting down in my face and yelling at me to immediately stop touching myself. I cum—ruined—and you order me to take that “little taste” of my own cum. But I refuse—and that makes you mad as hell. You pull out your phone and tell me you’re sending my dicklet pics to “one of our coworkers,” but I won’t know who. You’re angry about my disobedience, and you tell me you hope I enjoy next week’s at work."