CEDRIC THE ACCOUNTANT (PART 2)

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2021

Warning: If you don’t like reading silly fiction stories, then stop reading now.

Author’s Note: Please read Part 1 first or you may not understand this Part.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

RT

Cedric Ashton-Stufmeyer-Jones lay in bed. He stared at the ceiling. Beatrix, his matronly wife, snored next to him.

It was three o’clock in the morning and he couldn’t sleep.

As it had for the previous few days, his incredibly dull accountant’s brain raced through the audit he had been assigned last week: “Donna’s Dungeon of Domination”. He had found several irregularities in their corporate income tax returns: another victory for the Department of Goods & Services Tax!

Yet he lay pondering the bizarre, fascinating things he had seen during the audit. Whips. Leather masks. Collars and leashes. A St Andrew’s Cross (but not eligible for a religious exemption). Diapers. Phalluses of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Hemp rope. Cages. Evening gowns, Ballet shoes of incredible height. French maid uniforms. An endless variety of items and equipment, every one of them beyond his experience.

The establishment’s manager’s parting words rang in his ears: “a little make-believe in this dungeon gives wings to your imagination.”

And imagination was something Cedric had, like every good accountant had.

He eventually drifted off to sleep, content with his resolve.

-----000-----

He left his office at 11:30. He explained at length to his director that he had an engagement and wished to have an extended lunch.

“I thought you were married,” came the more senior accountant’s reply. “Anyway, take your time; you’ve earned it.”

Cedric walked the streets towards “Donna’s Dungeon of Domination”. He steeled himself and knocked at the door.

The manager, a large woman, answered it. “Hello!” she cheerily said.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have an appointment. I’m Mr. Basil Carmen Snotwobbler. I’m a banker. I’m here for a lesson.”

The owners head tilted slightly. She raised her eyebrows. “Please come in then, Mr. Basil Carmen Snotwobbler,” she said merrily. She led him into her office, the same office in which he had informed her the previous week that the company owed an additional $98.72 in taxes. She invited him to sit and closed the door.

“It’s nice to see you again. I thought your name was Cedric Ashton-Stufmeyer-Jones, accountant and inspector #483-35A of the Department of Goods & Services Tax? You were here last week auditing us, yes?” She spoke gently.

Cedric gasped.

Busted! She remembered him! His hopes of anonymity lay in ruins. Well, he thought to himself, in for a penny, in for an audit.

He stared at her blankly and replied, “Ah, err, yes, it is. I was just testing your memory! It’s a pleasure to see you again!”

They then chatted for a brief minute about the weather and the audit. Cedric took particular pains to assure the manager that he was not presently attending on official business.

“Cedric, why are you here? You’ve made a one-hour booking. What interests you here?” The manager leaned back in her chair and put her stilettos on her desk.

Cedric drew a breath and answered: “I would like to take lessons to become a Dominatrix.”

“You mean a Dungeon Master?” she warmly asked.

“Yes! A Dungeon Master!”

“May I inquire of your motivations?” she asked taking her feet off the desk, leaning forward, and cupping her head with her hands.

“May I speak candidly?” he politely asked. She nodded and opened a hand to invite him to do so.

“I am happily married to the best woman in the world, my Beatrix.” He noticed that the manager smiled. “But our sex life is, well, I’ve never told anyone this and I could not ever mention it to Beatrix. Our sex life is monotonous. I’ve tried to get her to experiment beyond the missionary position but she always seems so reticent — or embarrassed to try anything else. ‘Why? I love us like this,’ she says. Or ‘That sounds terribly kinky,’ she says. And so we’re stuck in the missionary position.

“Long have I desired to use the doggie position. It would be so enlivening! I have many fantasies about the doggie position: the control, the power, the dominance. Sadly, she seems unwilling to push our boundaries.”

He hastily added, “Just to be clear, I love her deeply and want to make her happy, but I feel as thought she’s simply satisfied with the basics. I want more than the basics! I’m an accountant! I, however, don’t know how to get us to be more creative in the bedroom.

“And so,” he sighed, “after the audit, I gave some thought to the possibility of persuading her to be more adventurous in the bedroom. Showing her how wickedly kinky we can be if she just let go and allowed me to open her mind to the wilds of her unexplored imagination!”

The manager raised her eyebrows and took a moment before answering.

“Very well then. Let me talk to my staff for a minute to see whether we have a submissive — that’s a person whom you would master, a ‘sub’ — available for you to practice on. Please wait a moment. I shan’t be long.” She left the office and closed the door behind her.

A minute or two later, he heard muted laughter down the hallway.

The door reopened and the manager stood brightly by his side.

“I have good news! There is a sub here getting ready for her session! You can be her Master! Put on this mask! Now, take off your clothes and put this on.”

She passed him a black leather dress and black leather boots.

He looked puzzled at her.

“This is standard fare for a first lesson. No, hush; don’t worry about the fee. You can pay me at your next lesson. Let’s see today whether you like it!”

And she left and he changed.

-----000-----

“This willing girl is into flagellation. Now, it has to be done a certain way. Gently. Slowly. Methodically. It’s just like a backrub! So, try it for five minutes and then rub her back. She’ll moan in satisfied desire!”

In the dim, hot dungeon, Cedric stared at the shape on the table. He thought laying on it was a larger woman, naked but for the fact she wore a mask. No handcuffs. No ankle straps. The lighting was poor.

He glanced around the room; no First-Aid kit. He would bring one next time.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now you twirl the floggers in a rhythm like I showed you and swat her backside. Yes, just like that! Good! That’s it!”

After a few minutes during which the sub moaned with pleasure, the manager gave him further instructions: “Excellent. This time, when you flog her, respond to her moans. She’s enjoying herself. Give her pleasure. When she moans, be sure to ask, ‘Do you like it, Mistress?’ or words to that effect. Remember: the customer comes first!”

“Mistress?”

“Yes, ‘Mistress’. If you’re the Master, then she’s plainly the Mistress, yes?” The manager fluttered her eyelashes as she happily answered him.

Well, that reasoning makes sense, I suppose, Cedric thought.

Oblivious, Cedric renewed his efforts to give the sub what she wanted. After each gentle flail, he inquired of the sub as the manager had instructed.

“That’s enough for now,” said the manager shortly. “Does our little sub want a back rub, now?” asked the manager, putting a finger under the sub’s chin. There was a nod in response.

“Cedric, sweetie, sit astride the sub’s back and rub it.”

He stumbled his way in his high heels and climbed above the large woman. He sat on her butt and leaned forward.

The manager encouraged him. “Glide your fingers over her back. Awaken her skin, her flesh. Drag your fingernails softly down back toward you. Get the blood flowing. Don’t scratch; just let your fingers doing the domme-ing.”

She giggled.

“Use your thumbs. Right there! Under the should blades! Feel the muscle! You can do it, Basil!”

Cedric was grateful that she used his pseudonym before the sub.

Cedric exerted sufficient force to render an adequate Swedish massage, exactly like the ones he had seen on the YouTube videos he had watched. He lowered his elbow and pushed it up the side of the sub’s spine. He did the same on the other side.

His enthusiasm raced as she melted under his touch. He got daring.

“You like this, Mistress?” he cooed to her sighs and rubbed more furiously.

His thumbs began to ache.

“Moooooooore,” came the muffled voice of the sub.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said cautiously.

His hands began to ache.

“Moooooooore,” came the muffled voice of the sub.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said daringly.

His shoulders began to ache.

“Moooooooore,” came the muffled voice of the sub.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said confidently.

Eventually fatigued, he looked at the manager.

“Time’s up!” she said chirpily. “How was it?”

Cedric sat erect. There was a little bulge underneath his leather skirt. His heart raced.

The exhilaration! The rapture! The power! He had pleased the sub! The customer was satisfied! He had taken this unknown woman and pleasured her beyond her dreams! He could do it! He could satisfy a stranger this way and so could surely satisfy his wife this way too!

“Same time next week?” the manager asked him as he left.

Cedric was thoroughly pleased with himself. He hadn’t had to pay for this session — “The first one’s free!” the manager said — and now was being offered a chance to return for another lesson: “We don’t get many like you, here!” the manager quipped.

He returned to his office.

-----000-----

“No, no, no! Not like that!” Cedric whispered in frustration.

He got up and went to the cutting board.

He nudged Beatrix away and began salvaging her pitiful attempts at sliced carrots.

He moved to the stove and stirred the — yes — stir-fry. The mushrooms were sauteed to perfection. His thin carrot slices quickly softened. The medley of other vegetables (but aren’t mushrooms a fungi?) leapt at the addition of the soy sauce and subsequently the marinated sliced steak strips.

The meal was delicious.

“How was your day?” he asked his wife.

She nibbled on her dinner, sipped her sparkling water, and lovingly replied, “We got a new puppy in for training today. He’s really quite adorable. So willing and eager to obey. I can’t wait for the next lesson. It would be so nice to have him here at home — if you let me.”

Cedric frowned. A puppy? Some four-legged wild beast wandering indiscriminately around the house? An unpredictable, uncontrollable, little puppy? He shuddered at the thought.

“How was yours?” she asked.

Cedric was paralyzed! He hadn’t thought of a cover story to explain his lunch appointment at the Dungeon! What to do? What to say?

“I performed some physical exercise of an uninteresting nature to increase the strength of my upper body.”

He hastily gulped a huge bite of his food. She beamed at him.

“Isn’t that somewhat risky for accountants?”

“I’m an accountant,” he said proudly, “I can handle it.”

They finished their meal.

“You’ll get this, won’t you? Cedric asked as he waved his hand at the plate-strewn table.

“Yes, dear. It’s a dishwasher night. It won’t take long.” Beatrix stood, cleared some dishes, and started placing them in the dishwasher.

Cedric watched her in mounting frustration.

“Beatrix, my love,” he snorted to her, “did you pay any attention to me when I explained how to load a dishwasher to you?” He also bitterly remembered the dishwasher loading course in which he had once enrolled her.

Six years, he thought. Six darned years and she still messes it up.

“I read the instruction manual,” she said disarmingly. “Everything will get cleaned.”

He moved toward the dishwasher. She smiled and stood aside. She opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle of Whiskey.

“Would you like one, dear?” she asked.

“Yes, please, dear,” he said, aligning the dinner plates on the left-side of the bottom rack and arranging the forks in one section of the cutlery basket and the knives in another.

-----000-----

Cedric’s loin surged with vitality as Beatrix French-kissed him goodnight in bed.

Then she rolled over.

He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

Now.

Now was the moment to apply the knowledge he had acquired today. Her kiss had been extremely passionate, like those described in racy tales about investment bankers. He sensed that she was open to his advances tonight.

But he would surprise her with his newfound skills!

He flung the sheets off the bed and sat on her rump.

“What are you doing, my love?” asked Beatrix with a husky voice.

He leaned down and put a finger to her mouth to silence her.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear.

He began rubbing. Her neck. Her shoulders. Her rhomboids, Her lats. His hands glid up and down her spine, his thumbs pressing into her lumbar muscles, his fingers inching underneath her should blades.

Beatrix groaned: “Yeees.”

Cedric smiled to himself. It was working! That lesson was bang-on! He could rub her and make her body respond! His touch! His fingers! Him! Novelty in the bedroom! A new beginning! More interplay and playfulness! Yes! He could do it! He was in control! Yes, he could!

Feeling a tad smug, he (as macho-ly as he could) asked her the determinative question, the question the Master he was willing to become had to ask, indeed, had been trained to ask:

“Do you like this, Mistress?”

Her face in her pillow, Beatrix moaned — and grinned.

END

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2021