Careers Counsellor

by Abby Rhodes

  

I slouched into the Careers Counsellor's office for my appointment with Miss Travers. I'd been ordered to get some guidance because I wasn't doing well in my last year at high school and my parents and my teachers all agreed that I needed to pull my socks up, put my nose to the grindstone, my shoulder to the wheel and get my act together. Unfortunately, I was suffering from terminal boredom and I wasn't even slightly interested in studying.

What was the point? My father owned a steel mill, my mother was a movie star and they had more money than I could spend in a lifetime. I was an only child and would get the lot sooner or later. Not only that, my father had a tricky heart that sometimes fluttered or murmured, or something like that.

"Ah, Jonathon Masters? I'm Diane Travers. Please come in and close the door behind you. Sit down on the chair there and let's see what we can do for you." Miss Travers sat down behind her desk and settled back into her leather chair. She picked up and opened a folder with my name on the front. The best description I can give of Miss Travers is that she was sultry. Right now she would have looked at home in a nightclub or bar, but her reputation as a Careers Counsellor was impressive.

"It says here, Jonathon, that you're a lazy, spoilt brat who would benefit from a good thrashing. Do you think that's a fair description?"

I spluttered and sat upright. I almost stood up. "I think that's wrong, Miss Travers. In fact, I think there's been a mistake. Who wrote that in my report? And why is there a pink sticker on the front of my folder?"

Miss Travers looked at me. Her green eyes seemed to penetrate right inside my head and she put the folder down and spoke to me, spoke through glossy red lips that provided a splash of colour against her pale skin and contrasted with her black hair, lashes and brows. She was even dressed completely in black and her attitude said she wasn't going to take any crap. She placed her elbows on the desk and folded her hands under her chin.

"Everybody said the same thing, Jonathon. You're just a weak-willed, effeminate boy who has no hope of succeeding his father at the steel mill and is too useless to follow his mother onto the stage, except maybe to sweep it. I think I know what you'd be suitable for, Jonathon. A simpering sissy maid for a dominant woman who will chastise you, humiliate you and use your backside for a toast rack."

Despite myself, I sat up straighter and listened carefully.

"You can't even be bothered playing a sport and you don't get involved in any school activities. You don't even have many friends. Your best marks would be in goofing off, or maybe eating. I think you need to be strapped into a tight, tight corset while your Mistress shoves a large dildo up your back passage and then makes you lick the floor clean or cut the lawn with tiny nail scissors, beating you every fifteen minutes.

"Or she can put you in a pink French Maid's costume – pink because you're such an incredible sissy - and have you serve her friends with tea and coffee and make you lick their pussies until they come all over your face and then take turns fucking you with large strap-on dildos until you can't walk."

Miss Travers stood up and I saw she was wearing a tight black pencil skirt and very high heels. She put one hand on each arm of my chair and put her face close to mine.

"Or maybe you could get a job as a prostitute. You'd look good in a short pink skirt and high heels and a top that barely covered your breasts, taking clients to a back alley and getting on your knees and sucking them off, or letting them fuck you in the ass. Imagine the lovely panties they'd rip off you. Black lace panties or red satin panties that would keep your cock under control until they tore them off and stuffed them in your mouth so they couldn't hear you scream."

I was now sweating profusely and my cock was close to exploding.

Miss Travers saw my bulge and pressed her hand against it and rubbed it in a circular motion. I exploded.

"You see, Jonathon? No control, just a sissy waiting for the right woman to exploit you."

There was a knock at the door as I tried to push myself away from her.

"That will be your parents, Jonathon. I invited them over to discuss your future." She opened the door and invited the magnate and the actress to enter. They found me in a bath of sweat and with a dark stain on the front of my trousers.

"Thank you for coming," said Miss Travers. "We've just been discussing Jonathon's future and we can't decide if he should be a stockbroker or a lawyer. What do you think?"

  

  

  

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