KOKO’S PLANS

JULY 2001

“Can’t I cum, just once, Jenise…it’s been 139 days and counting!” But Seifert knew what would happen to him if he bugged his wife again!

THWACK! Jenise Quynlan thwacked her husband in the side of the neck as he scurried to the back of the Buttermilk Beauty Bazaar, and then she tugged on the chains that were locked through the hoops on his nipples and dragged him back. Jenise slashed again, this time lashing his stomach with the riding crop.

“I told you again and again, you’re not going to get an orgasm today, you pathetic sissy-faggot!” Jenise screamed. The riding crop found Seifert’s bare balls, and she laid it around his cock and nuts until he was in absolute agony, and dancing…

This of course gave Jenise nothing but hilarity. She loved using a whip or a riding crop to make her husband dance around in pain!  Matter of fact, sometimes she’d borrow her son’s air rifle and shoot at poor Seifert’s bare feet to get him dancing, and the evil little metal balls really urged him on to incredible results!

Now Jenise just swung the crop with an energy rarely seen in a 92 pound woman. She switched the crop around, hitting Seif’s nipples, and then his nuts, and then the crop would find a tender earlobe…and Jenise just kept laughing!

Koko, the shampoo girl was arranging bottles on the shelves. In a few moments, the B.B.B. would open for business, and Jenise would have to stop kicking her husband around. Seifert Quynlan had asked his wife out years ago, and she was suspicious of a hairdresser’s heterosexuality. “I don’t go out with gay gentlemen” Jenni had said, and Seif had replied, “Well, neither do I!”

This line had gotten Jenise to laugh and to eventually date the strange little somewhat heterosexual hairdresser…and there were more surprises to come!

But Jenni had discovered, as wives do, that although her hairdressing hubby was hetero, he was a submissive hetero, and when she’d hired her god-daughter Koko to do Saturday shampoos right after the girl turned twelve, she’d told her to try to accept the way she “did things” with Seif…as he wasn’t quite right…and needed a strong hand.

Now, Jenise pointed a long nail to the back of the store and sent her sobbing spouse back there, and Koko followed, somewhat lackadaisically. Boredly, she held out her arms and poor Seifert wept in her substantial, seventeen year old bosom, and then he sat his naked bottom on the floor, and Koko began running her kitten heels all over his rock hard cock.

“I know Jenise gets upset when I pressure her for orgasms, but it’s been so long!” Seifert gasped as Koko, sitting in a discarded hairdressing chair, rubbed her feet all over his cock and balls, being careful of course, not to let her godfather have a release. That would have greatly pissed off Jenise, and Koko didn’t want to get on her bad side. She just popped her gum in the adolescent girl way and rubbed Seif’s genitals, and let him rant and rave about the unfairness of it all….

Soon she would have to go out into the store and do shampoos…and then he’d have to blow his nose and work his magic with Mrs. Holditch’s frizzy mop, and turn it into its monthly permanent wave…she had to cheer him up, and get him together. What a sad and pathetic submissive male he was!

But then there was a knock on the back door, and Koko opened it up, and it was, indeed one of the Buttermilk Beauty Bazaar’s “private” clients…one Koko would work on herself. Bruton Eben McNabb, Buttermilk Falls Police Chief was looking in, shamefacedly, being prodded by his wife,  Alouette.

It was time for Chief McNabb’s  monthly makeover, so he could be “Bertha” and go around in a hot little drag queen outfit and tranny pumps… One thing Alouette loved about her husband’s treatment was how Koko would attach little wires all over his body to de-hair him…It was an electrical shock thing, but it did make all of the hair on Bruton’s chest, back and pubes absolutely disappear.

Koko then would cover Bruton’s body with lots of creams and sensitizers, so he would be smooth skinned. Alouette was seriously considering having Bruton go on disability from the Police Department and undergo breast implant surgery. She said she wanted a girlfriend to go shopping with. She’d already gotten Bruton to bring home a couple of the criminal druggies that he rousted about, so he could learn how to fellate them like a real girl.

“Puh-please, Alouette, can’t I just go home?” Bruton begged…”I don’t know if I really want to get all dressed up again, if you know what I mean!”

“Sacre Bleu!” Alouette shouted, and before Koko’s amused eyes, she pulled a leather scourge out of her purse and swung it hard, landing it right on Bruton’s exposed palm, which made the husky ex-Marine burst into tears. “Do you want me to make you strip naked and  take a full whipping (she pronounced this Wheepeeng) in front of this young woman, Koko?”

And of course Bruton shook his head, weeping. He would submit as he always did…you couldn’t argue with a dominant woman, could you?

Alouette was such a slight Belgian babe…no one could believe that she could use a whip and several lead tipped sticks to convince her 260 pound, muscle bound husband to suck the dicks of the various felons that had once been in terror of him…and that he really enjoyed it.

For, if you made a police chief suck criminal dick long enough, it became a craving for him…quite an exciting one, though of course it was quite frightening if the thugs started telling each other what a faggot the head cop of Buttermilk Falls had become!

This resulted in the Chief paying tons of blackmail money so Fitizie, Lunchmeat and Cousin Ernie, the purse-snatchers of Dade Avenue, wouldn’t tell the world that Mr. Tough Cop was actually a  nail-polished little cocksucker.

Chief McNabb was very tough and hard on the various lower-income peoples of the town…but when he was Bertha, he was just a ladyboy transvestite little whore! Koko brought him in and went to work!

20010

Clemyjontri “Koko” Ciesielski tossed her chestnut ponytail behind her back as she went over the testimony in the Schwantes case. Koko shook her head as she spotted yet another spelling error. Koko’s Iphone went off, she looked at the text and the accompanying web photo.. It was one of the Wylie twins, Beasley.

Koko supplemented her work as a legal secretary by working as an occasional dominatrix…her favorite clients were those who she could manipulate by Iphone and not have to check on that often!

Bailey Wylie was chained by the balls to an anvil in Koko’s basement, copying pages from the dictionary, and Beasley was in the public restroom at  John H. Buttermilk Park, doing a little glory hole work…and he wanted Mistress Koko to supervise his progress!

After Beasley had sucked off nine men through the little drilled holes in the walls of the restroom, he’d be allowed to come see Koko, get the key to his chastity device, and then go home and cum in his brother’s ass.

And then, Bailey, after he’d finished all the D’s in the Merriam-Webster, was eligible to get HIS key, and cum in Beasley’s mouth. (By this time, Beasley was a real expert at the fellatio thing). And they’d give Koko a big check from their trust account at Goldman Sachs.

The night before, Koko had also collected a large sum of money for humiliating Regis Pembrokian, the noted clarinetist…she’d come up to him at one of the big fund raisers, and right after he’d gotten an award, Koko, resplendent in a tight sparkly dress that showed off her considerable breasts, had ordered Reg to unzip his tux pants and pull out his penis.

Koko had nearly shredded it by whipping it with a stolen knitting needle in front of all his friends and co-workers, demanding that Reg keep his hands behind his back and stick out his bare, throbbing cock as she whacked it again and again…the easiest thousand dollars she’d ever made for fifteen minutes work, though at the end, when she’d stalked out, he was kneeling on the floor, sobbing…and his poor dickie-bird was ragged and bleeding…and his tux looked like hell!

All was heaven on that side of things…but today, this legal secretary work was a drag. Her boss’s boss, Emory, father of Emmett, had sternly warned Koko to not let up on his slacker son…to make sure his work was up to par, and here were all these damn spelling mistakes!

She’d have to have a talk with Emmett about this one…After Koko had been working for Emmett Dinobile  as his legal secretary for about nine months, they’d mutually agreed that he should probably do his own typing as it got in the way of her “Serenity Space”, her meditative time. But that didn’t mean she was going to let him be a damn slob, seriously. Couldn’t the man type?

Koko whistled the tune to “My Fair Lady” and slid her chair away from her desk, and out came the crouched form of  Emmett Turibuis Dinobile, crawling slowly. Emmett was clad only in a pair of florally embroidered thong panties, and his erection, even while locked in a chastity belt, was almost peeking out of them. He also had a clothespin on each nipple, but of course you couldn’t count that as apparel.

As Emmett peered up at his gorgeous secretary Koko, his penis throbbed, and he recalled his governess, Miss Beck. Emmett’s father, Emory, Sr. had realized that Emmett was a weak-willed boy, and he’d had Miss Beck, a comely brunette who had once been Emory Sr.’s mistress, take Emmett in hand, homeschooling him through twelfth grade.

Miss Beck had made Emmett and his brother, Emory Jr. wear Lincoln green sailor suits, inspired by the uniforms from “The Sound of Music” and kept them within the walls of the family estate much of the time. Sometimes Miss Beck was frolicsome and had picnics, like Julie Andrews did, but she also had the whole iron-fist in the velvet glove thing going on as well.

Emmett recalled once that Miss Beck had caught him jerking off to the Fredericks of Hollywood catalogue (he’d filched one from a proletarian garbage can while on the way to his tuba lesson) and Miss Beck had stripped Emmett naked, made him kneel on a hassock with his hands bound behind his head, and then she’d made him conjugate Latin verbs while she rubbed jalapeno peppers on his penis and testicles.

“Come on, now, Emmett, what’s the active voice for ‘Celo’?” Miss Beck said, bending down to graze the scorching peppers against the underside of his tiny penis…Emmett looked down through sobbing eyes into Miss Beck’s heaving cleavage as she rubbed the plant back and forth.

“Uh—Celare is the present voice, Celavisse is the puh-perfect voice, and Celaturus esse is the future—oh, it hurts so much, Miss Beck!” Emmett had sobbed, and Miss Beck had stood up and slapped his face hard, her breasts jiggling in the tight, low cut angora sweater.

“But  Emmett…that’s what you’re supposed to be studying, instead of filling your mind with filched filth from white trash garbage cans!” Miss Beck had then taken up a razor strop lent her by Emory Sr., and she grabbed poor Emmett, and she’d thrown him across the bed in the “Nursery”, the room he’d never outgrow!

Later on, Miss Beck had ordered Emmett and Emory, Jr. to put on frilly white dresses with high socks and patent leather shoes (quite shiny) and they’d marched past jeering boys (urchins, Miss Beck called them) playing stickball on the street to return the Fredericks of Hollywood catalogue to the neighbor, who’d laughed and whooped at the little so-called perverts, dressed as pretty young ladies with parasols.

Miss Beck had tied their scrotums together, and left the boys in the attic that weekend, and gone off on a romantic trip with Emory Sr, who just thought his raven haired governess employee was the best thing for childrearing that he’d ever seen!

But hey, if Emmett hadn’t had Miss Beck on him then, he might not have gotten 1570 on his SAT’s and wouldn’t be a lawyer now…cowering as he was under the desk, staring at Miss Koko!

“Stand up, Emmett” Koko now said, not looking at him. She was still quite distracted by the brief she was reading. “How many  F’s are in the word reaffirmation, as in ‘reaffirmation agreement’, you have only one…”

Emmett, who was now standing in his panties and clothespins in his ornate office, hoping that the mailboy wouldn’t come in, guessed. “Three?”

Without looking up from her brief, Koko swung up her left leg, resplendent in a bright red Kate Spade pump and whacked the tip neatly between Emmett’s legs, and he grabbed his balls and fell over, crying.

Yes, those jujitsu lessons at the Buttermilk Falls YWCA really did the trick, Koko thought. “And do you know the rule about I before E except after C?”

Koko got up and stood over Emmett, and then she kicked him in the stomach, and he got up, too. “Get me the  Whippy Stick from the wall, Emmie.”

Emmett looked pleadingly at her, but Koko was adamant. He slunk over to the wall and took the Whippy Stick down. The Whippy Stick was made of some sort of  Australian branch, and was used for driving cattle over there by the Bushmen, or something.

Emmett had gotten it “for fun” when he’d been backpacking there his summer after graduating from Syracuse, and before starting the long grind at Buttermilk University Law Center. He had had no idea how much his secretary would enjoy it, that was for sure!

Emmett walked back to Koko, dreading his thrashing, but enjoying the look of his secretary in her short, snug Pleather dress and high heels. He did have the hottest assistant at the firm, if a somewhat surly one.

Koko gave him an expectant look, and Emmett pulled his panties to his knees, and bent over the divan in his large office. Emory, Emmett’s dad, had been so angry when Emory Jr., Emmett’s older brother had gone into political cartooning instead of the law, that he’d given his son a beaucoup  corner office, with great furniture and huge windows that was the envy and resentment of the other starting associates. Of course, they didn’t know about Koko.

Now Emmett lay over the divan. “P-please Koko, I did the best I could. You know I have a learning disability about spelling—“

But Koko didn’t believe in learning disabilities. Grandchild of refugees from Stalin’s purge, she’d worked her ass off, and didn’t have time for excuses. She lifted the Whippy Stick and brought it down across Emmett’s skinny buttocks.

Emmett squealed, and Koko was rewarded by the long red streak right across his crack. It was a nice shade of red, and Koko was convinced that she could hit it again, and maybe create a blister. What fun life was!

Poor Emmett. Things were so grim for him, sometimes. He had a lovely wife, Osceola, who kept him locked in a chastity device 99 percent of the time. Once a month Osceola would stand before Emmett, usually wearing a tight pink T-shirt (she had lovely melons) and she’d berate him.

“Don’t you wish you could touch these precious orbs, you pathetic, self-centered little crybaby?” Osceola would ask, as she tossed the key to the chastity belt to her grateful husband. “You’re lucky I let you look at my boobies at all, and you’ll NEVER get to see them naked, you just don’t deserve it.”

Poor Emmett would unlock his chastity belt and take his cock in his hand, the first time he’d touched it in thirty days, and begin toying with it, as he looked at Osceola’s glorious rack! She had a way of contemptuously staring at him that absolutely drove him wild!

Then Osceola would slowly lift up the pink top so he could see her glorious breasts encased in a beige demibra. She’d jiggle them at him as he beat his meat, and then as soon as he came, back down the shirt went, and he was locked up for another thirty days.

Osceola was also quite strict with the hairbrush, the thick wooden paddle, and a razor strop. When Emmett wasn’t slaving away for Koko in the office, he was cleaning and cooking for Osceola, who was a lazy honey blonde who just wanted to get laid by as many unemployed Hispanic illegal aliens as she could!

Emmett sighed and gritted his teeth against the pain of the Whippy Stick. He was almost drunk with a desire to cum. Koko didn’t make it easy at work, where she constantly flashed her boobs in tight cleavage dresses and showed off her legs.

Koko also had a copy of Emmett’s chastity belt key, and in lazy afternoons would stroke and toy with his hard, sweating cock for an hour as he struggled with his hands locked behind his head.

Koko’s long nails could instinctively find the pressure points and sensitive spots on Emmett’s throbbing, denied cock, and she loved to toy with them…sometimes she’d spend the entire teasing time just playing with Emmett’s cockhead, the glans portion, and other times she’d just play with his balls.

Now of course Koko was having a great time with the Whippy Stick, trying hard to land it on poor Emmett’s testicles, which were poking out from between his legs.  Finally she had Emmett in tears, and she thought that it was possible that he would remember to check his work before submitting it to her for inspection.

Koko was a 9th grade dropout, and if Emmett was any evidence of what you got with higher education, she’d stay that way!

Finally, Koko tossed down the Whippy Stick, snapped her fingers, and the weeping Emmett crawled back under the desk, as he pulled up his panties. Koko went to the intercom system and called for her typist.

“I guess I’ll have to have this done by Bertha” Koko sighed. “How annoying this is.”

The door opened and a rather homely creature in a snug blue dress and beehive wig came in, escorted by three African mail clerks, all of whom bowed to Koko, who smiled and curtsied.

“Kiasi, Njoku and Emeka!” she said with a smile. “Have you been enjoying Miss Bertha in the mailroom?” Koko viewed the former Police Chief Bruton Eben McNabb with some favor. After Bruton’s wife had finally gotten him to get his tits and resign the Police department, she’d left…and now Bruton lived in a small basement apartment near the law firm, and had learned to type badly with press-on nails.

Being the suck-slave of the three Nigerian exchange students and part-time mail clerks was another part of “Bertha’s” job description, but with lots of whipping and torture, Koko was convinced that one day, when she had moved on to  greener pastures, Bertha could take over as full time legal secretary.

Of course Bertha still had a dick—but it was pierced and locked into the scrotum, and Bertha only was allowed two orgasms a year, at Christmas and on birthdays…as long as the typing speed slowly moved up to 100 words a minute!

Koko gave Bertha the Schwantes testimony to check, and the three Nigerian mail clerks, using feet and hard fists, pushed the former police chief towards the door.

Koko put her feet up and lit a joint in the office, deserted except for her, and of course the cringing Emmett, still crouched under the desk. It had been quite a productive morning!