The Femdom CEO's Humiliated Cuckold Property: A Humiliation Romance

By Angela Kensington

HE IS NO LONGER A MAN, BUT MY BROKEN LITTLE BOY.
My world is built on steel, glass, and absolute control. When Archer Little crawled into my office, I saw the truth written in his trembling hands. He did not want a career. He wanted to be destroyed. I stripped away his name and his dignity before the sun went down. Now he is the shadow at my feet.
The board demands a legacy to secure my throne. I will provide an heir, but I will do it without surrendering my power to any man. I have selected a donor to provide the bloodline. Archer will watch every moment of my transition. He will witness another man perform the duty he is too lowly to handle. I will transmute his agony into worship.
My empire is unshakable. Archer is no longer a person. He is a tool, a footstool, and a silent witness to my glory. He will spend his days tending to my needs and raising a child that bears no part of him. His erasure is complete. He has found his only salvation in the total loss of himself.
He will spend the rest of his life finding his only purpose in the dust beneath my heels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Freedom Books
• Release date: Jan 14, 2026

Book preview

The Femdom CEO's Humiliated Cuckold Property

By Angela Kensington

The Femdom CEO's Humiliated Cuckold Property

Angela Kensington

𝒜 𝒦

© Angela Kensington

All Rights Reserved • 2026

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Glass Ceiling of Vertex Global

Chapter 2: A Clerical Error in Sector Seven

Chapter 3: Summoned to the Top Floor Office

Chapter 4: The Weight of Her Unyielding Gaze

Chapter 5: Stripped of Every Shred of Dignity

Chapter 6: Standing Naked Before Absolute Power

Chapter 7: Odette Anderson-My Absolute Superior

Chapter 8: The First Hard Lesson in Obedience

Chapter 9: From Data Processor to Personal Property

Chapter 10: The Texture of Her Designer Power Suit

Chapter 11: Kneeling on the CEO's Persian Rug

Chapter 12: A Shadow Formed by Her Silhouette

Chapter 13: The Contract of Total Domestic Submission

Chapter 14: Learning the Value of Absolute Silence

Chapter 15: The First Taste of Her Expensive Sole

Chapter 16: Archer Little-The Office Pet

Chapter 17: Between the Stiletto and the Hardwood

Chapter 18: Domesticated by Her Ruthless Design

Chapter 19: The Perverse Pleasure of Insignificance

Chapter 20: Odette's Evening Rituals of Control

Chapter 21: Living Life Beneath Her Mahogany Desk

Chapter 22: The Scent of Leather and Authority

Chapter 23: A Friday Night Humiliation at the Estate

Chapter 24: Polishing the Throne of Vertex Global

Chapter 25: The Ritual of the Evening Footbath

Chapter 26: Archer's True Purpose in Her Shadow

Chapter 27: Broken Down and Rebuilt for Her Service

Chapter 28: The Cold Comfort of My Perfect Mistress

Chapter 29: Miles Carter's Professional Observation

Chapter 30: The Natural Hierarchy of Vertex Global

Chapter 31: A Public Display of Total Ownership

Chapter 32: The Sound of Her Heels on the Marble

Chapter 33: My Mouth-Her Dedicated Footstool

Chapter 34: The Beautiful Burden of Perfect Submission

Chapter 35: Odette's New Ambition for the Legacy

Chapter 36: The Announcement of the Anderson Heir

Chapter 37: Not Worthy of the Anderson Bloodline

Chapter 38: Selecting the Donor for the Empire

Chapter 39: The Arrival of Khalil Wallace

Chapter 40: A Superior Specimen of Imposing Manhood

Chapter 41: Serving the Board Member's Every Whim

Chapter 42: The Silent Watcher in the Darkened Corner

Chapter 43: Khalil Wallace's Command of the Room

Chapter 44: The Sweet Agony of the Third Wheel

Chapter 45: Odette's Calculated and Controlled Passion

Chapter 46: The Duty of the Loyal Domestic Pet

Chapter 47: Holding Her Heels for Another Man

Chapter 48: The Cuckold's Romantic Sense of Devotion

Chapter 49: My Mistress and Her Chosen Temporary Lover

Chapter 50: A Night of Double Service and Submission

Chapter 51: The Conceived Legacy of Vertex Global

Chapter 52: Dismissing the Donor Once Purpose Is Served

Chapter 53: The Seed of a Superior Business Rival

Chapter 54: Worshipping the Changing Form of My Goddess

Chapter 55: The First Signs of Her Growing Power

Chapter 56: Swelling Ankles-A New Sacred Task

Chapter 57: Archer's Maternal Devotion to Her Needs

Chapter 58: Lizzo Thompson's Visit to the Penthouse

Chapter 59: A Perfect Specimen of a Broken Man

Chapter 60: The Morning Sickness Ritual of Obedience

Chapter 61: Massaging the Weight of the Global Empire

Chapter 62: The CEO's Changing Shape and Demands

Chapter 63: Bound by the Gravity of Her Body's Needs

Chapter 64: The Ultimate Act of Domestic Service

Chapter 65: A Silent Shadow in the Designer Nursery

Chapter 66: Odette's Maternal Dominance and Grace

Chapter 67: The Pressure of Her Pregnancy on My Soul

Chapter 68: Archer's Daily Humiliation Expanded by Grace

Chapter 69: The Little Dog and the Growing Life Within

Chapter 70: Preparing the Home for Khalil's Child

Chapter 71: The Labor of Love and Calculated Pain

Chapter 72: A Legacy Born in the Heart of Vertex Global

Chapter 73: Nursing the Future CEO of the Anderson Empire

Chapter 74: Raising Khalil's Heir as an Act of Worship

Chapter 75: The Permanent Place at Her Swollen Feet

Chapter 76: Odette's Unshakable and Eternal Reign

Chapter 77: The Final Approval of Lizzo Thompson

Chapter 78: A Life Defined by Absolute Obedience

Chapter 79: The Romantic Fulfillment of My Own Erasure

Chapter 80: Forever Archer-The Shadow of Her Soul

Chapter 1: The Glass Ceiling of Vertex Global

Kneel.

Odette Anderson did not look up from the translucent tablet on her obsidian desk as the command left her lips. The word was cold, sharp, and carried the absolute weight of her position as CEO of Vertex Global. Across from her, Archer Little froze, the manila folder in his hands trembling so violently that the edges of the paper rattled. He had been sent up from the data processing floor because of a minor discrepancy in the logistics report - a clerical error that Miles Carter had been too cowardly to address himself. Now, Archer found himself in the inner sanctum of the most powerful woman in the city, and his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

I - I am so sorry, Ms. Anderson. The report from Miles Carter was incomplete and I thought -

I did not ask for your thoughts, Archer. I asked for your knees, Odette interrupted, her voice a low, melodic purr that sent a jolt of terrified electricity down his spine. She finally lifted her gaze, her dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She was the picture of corporate perfection in a charcoal - gray power suit that hugged her curves with lethal precision. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, severe bun, and her lips were painted a deep, bruised plum.

Archer felt his legs give way, not out of weakness, but out of a desperate, primal need to obey her. He sank onto the plush white carpet, his slacks bunching at his knees. He looked up at her, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He had spent months watching her from the glass elevators, memorizing the way she walked through the lobby like a goddess among mortals. Being this close to her, smelling the scent of expensive jasmine and cold steel that clung to her, was almost too much for his senses to bear.

Odette leaned back in her leather chair, crossing her legs. The movement drew his eyes to her feet, encased in five - inch black stilettos that looked sharp enough to draw blood. You have been staring at me in the lobby for three months, Archer. Did you think I was unaware of your pathetic little crush?

Archer swallowed hard, his face flushing a deep crimson. I... no, Ma'am. I mean, yes, Ma'am.

You are a mediocre employee with a penchant for daydreaming, she continued, her gaze raking over him with clinical detachment. But I see something in your eyes that Miles Carter and the rest of those suits downstairs lack. I see a hunger to be used. A desire to be broken.

She stood up, walking around the desk with a slow, predatory grace. Archer remained on his knees, his neck craning back to keep her in sight. She stopped directly in front of him, the pointed toe of her heel nudging the space between his thighs.

Strip, she commanded.

Archer’s eyes widened. Here? Now? Ms. Anderson, anyone could walk in. Nora Moore or Avery Hill could -

The doors are locked, and I own every soul in this building, Odette said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she reached down to tilt his chin up with one perfectly manicured finger. If you want to stay in my presence, if you want to be more than just a ghost in the machine of my company, you will do exactly as I say. Remove your clothes. Every stitch. I want to see the man who thinks he is worthy of my attention.

Archer’s fingers flew to his tie, his movements frantic and clumsy. He fumbled with the silk, pulling it free and tossing it aside. His shirt followed, buttons popping in his haste to satisfy her. He felt her eyes on him, cold and appraising, as he peeled the fabric away to reveal his pale, lean torso. He was shaking, the air - conditioned chill of the office biting at his skin, but the heat radiating from Odette was intoxicating.

Faster, she prodded, tapping her heel against the floor.

He kicked off his shoes and worked his belt through the loops, his trousers falling to the floor in a heap. Finally, he sat back on his heels, completely exposed and shivering before her. He felt small, insignificant, and more alive than he had ever felt in his life. Odette remained perfectly composed, her suit without a single wrinkle, her power amplified by his vulnerability.

She looked down at him, a faint, cruel smile touching her lips. Better. You look much more like a servant now, Archer Little.

She returned to her chair, but she did not go back to her work. Instead, she extended one leg, resting her high - heeled foot on his bare chest. The pressure was firm, the heel digging into his skin just enough to cause a delicious throb of pain.

My feet are aching after a morning of board meetings, she said, her voice dripping with command. Use those lips of yours to show me your gratitude for this opportunity. If you please me, I might let you stay. If you fail, you will be back in the basement with Miles Carter before the hour is out.

Archer did not hesitate. He leaned forward, his hands trembling as he reached out to steady her ankle. He lowered his head, his tongue darting out to taste the expensive leather of her shoe before moving to the sliver of skin at her arch. He was a low - level processor, a nobody in the grand scheme of Vertex Global, but as he worshipped her feet under the cold glow of the office lights, he knew he had found his true calling. He was Odette Anderson's creature, and the glass ceiling above him felt less like a barrier and more like a cage he never wanted to leave.

Chapter 2: A Clerical Error in Sector Seven

The heavy oak door to Odette's office slid open with a hiss, interrupting the wet, rhythmic sounds of Archer's tongue against the sole of her right foot. Odette did not move. She remained reclined in her leather throne, her legs crossed at the knee, allowing the naked man on the floor to continue his frantic service. Sasha Lee stood in the doorway, her face a mask of professional indifference despite the sight of the company's newest data processor shivering in his birthday suit at the CEO's feet.

The board has finalized the audit of the succession clauses, Ms. Anderson, Sasha Lee said, her voice echoing off the glass walls that overlooked the city. It is not merely a suggestion anymore. The legacy charter signed by your father requires a confirmed heir by the end of the fiscal year, or the voting shares will be redistributed to the secondary directors.

Odette's eyes narrowed. She pressed her heel harder into Archer's chest, pinning him to the plush carpet. He let out a soft, choked whimper of delight, his fingers curling against the floor. The catalyst had arrived. It was a cold, bureaucratic threat to her absolute sovereignty over Vertex Global. She looked down at Archer, whose gaze was fixed on her ankles with a level of devotion that bordered on the divine. He was a perfect tool, a beautiful, broken thing she had plucked from the clerical pool, but he was a nobody. He had no lineage, no status, and certainly no right to father the next ruler of her empire.

Send in Khalil Wallace, Odette commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. And tell Lizzo Thompson to prepare the legal amendments. If the board wants an heir, I will provide one on my own terms.

Sasha Lee nodded and retreated, closing the door behind her. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of Archer's insignificance. He looked up at Odette, his eyes wide and searching.

Mistress? he whispered, his voice trembling. Am I... am I to be replaced?

Odette laughed, a low, melodic sound that held no warmth. She reached down, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his face toward her knee. Replaced? No, Archer. You are far too useful for that. You are my pet. My footstool. My shadow. But you are not a man of stature. You will stay right here, on the floor where you belong, while a real man performs the duty of providing my legacy.

The door opened again, and Khalil Wallace stepped inside. He was towering, dressed in a suit that cost more than Archer's yearly salary, his presence radiating the kind of traditional masculine authority that Odette took pleasure in subverting. Khalil glanced down at the naked, kneeling Archer with a sneer of pure contempt.

Is this the creature that serves you, Odette? Khalil asked, his voice a deep rumble.

One of them, Odette replied, her gaze never leaving Archer's crumbling expression. Archer, meet Mr. Wallace. He is a member of my board, and for the next few months, he will be the man who plants the seed of the Anderson future into my womb. You will watch. You will assist. You will ensure that my feet are rubbed and my needs are met while he performs his singular task. Do you understand your place?

Archer's chest heaved. The humiliation was a physical weight, a crushing realization that his devotion earned him no status, only the privilege of being the silent witness to her life. He looked from Odette's polished heels to Khalil's imposing frame. The thought of another man touching her, of another man claiming the space he so desperately craved, sent a shiver of agonizing pleasure through his spine. He was nothing. He was a witness to her greatness.

Yes, Mistress, Archer sobbed, leaning down to press his forehead against the top of her designer pump. I understand. I am your dog. I am lucky to even breathe the same air as you and Mr. Wallace.

Odette looked at Khalil and smirked. He is well - trained, isn't he? Now, Khalil, let us discuss the terms of our arrangement. And Archer, keep licking. You have a long night of service ahead of you, and I expect my soles to be spotless before we begin.

The power in the room shifted, a tectonic alignment of dominance. Archer redoubled his efforts, his tongue working feverishly over the arch of her foot, his mind spinning with the erotic agony of his own worthlessness. He would watch her grow round with another man's child. He would worship her changing body, and he would love her even more for the cruelty of it. In the high - rise heart of Vertex Global, the era of Odette Anderson's absolute rule had truly begun, and Archer Little was exactly where he wanted to be - beneath her.

Chapter 3: Summoned to the Top Floor Office

I should have known that a simple mistake in the quarterly data spreadsheets would lead me here, but I did not expect the terror to feel so much like a drug. Every floor the elevator passes is another bridge burned behind me. I am a nobody, a low - level data processor who should not even know what the plush carpet on the top floor feels like under my shoes. But Odette Anderson does not make mistakes. She saw the error, and more importantly, she saw me. There is no going back to the cubicle now. There is no returning to a life where I belong to myself. The anxiety is a cold, heavy weight in my stomach, yet the frantic pulse in my throat tells a different story. I am walking into the lioness's den, and the most terrifying part is how much I want her to devour me. The doors will open, and the Archer Little who walked into the building this morning will cease to exist. I am terrified of the unknown, but the thought of her gaze is the only thing keeping me upright.

The elevator chimed, a soft, melodic sound that signaled the end of my freedom. I stepped out into the pristine, hushed atmosphere of the executive suite. Miles Carter, Odette's lead administrative assistant, looked up from his sleek glass desk. His expression was one of cold, professional pity.

She is waiting for you, Archer, Miles said, his voice devoid of warmth. Do not keep her waiting a second longer. You know how she feels about punctuality.

Thank you, Mr. Carter, I whispered, my voice cracking.

I approached the towering mahogany doors at the end of the hall. My hands trembled as I pushed them open. The office was vast, floor - to - ceiling windows offering a predatory view of the city below, but my eyes were fixed on the woman behind the desk. Odette Anderson was a vision of sharp lines and absolute authority. Her charcoal grey power suit was tailored to perfection, her dark hair pulled back into a spine - chillingly tight bun. She did not look up from her tablet for a long minute, letting me stand there in the suffocating silence.

Close the door, Archer, she finally commanded. Her voice was like velvet wrapped around a blade.

I obeyed instantly, the click of the lock sounding like a gavel.

I looked over your file, Odette said, finally setting the tablet down. Her piercing eyes tracked me as I stood at attention. A clerical error of that magnitude usually results in immediate termination. You cost this company time, and time is the only thing I value more than money. However, looking at you now, I see something more useful than a competent data processor. I see a man who is desperate to be told what to do.

I - I am so sorry, Ms. Anderson, I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Silence, she snapped, and I felt my knees weaken. She stood up, walking around the desk with a predator’s grace. The click of her high heels on the hardwood floor was the only sound in the room. She stopped inches from me, the scent of her expensive perfume filling my senses. I have decided to give you a choice. You can leave now, and I will ensure you never work in this industry again. Or, you can accept the new position I have designed specifically for you. A position of absolute service. Of total obedience.

I want to stay, I said, the words rushing out before I could think. Please. I'll do anything.

A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips. Anything? We shall see. Strip, Archer.

I froze. Wh - what?

Did I stutter? You are in my office now, and your clothes are a privilege you no longer deserve. Remove them. All of them. I want to see exactly what I have acquired.

My fingers fumbled with my buttons. The humiliation was immediate and searing. Under her cold, calculating gaze, I shed my cheap suit, my shirt, and finally my underwear. I stood trembling and completely naked in the center of her workspace, while she remained perfectly composed, fully dressed in her designer armor. She walked a slow circle around me, her eyes appraising my skin as if she were inspecting a piece of livestock.

Pathetic, she murmured, though her tone suggested she was quite pleased. You are small, Archer. Weak. But you have a certain... docility that I find intriguing. Sit on the floor. At my feet.

I sank to the floor, my knees hitting the wood. I felt the heat of shame, but it was eclipsed by a burgeoning, rhythmic Need. She sat back in her leather executive chair and crossed her legs, dangling one black designer pump off the tip of her toe.

My feet are tired, Archer, she said, her voice dropping to a low, commanding purr. The heels I wear to crush my competition take a toll. You will make yourself useful. Worship them.

I did not hesitate. I crawled forward, my naked body feeling exposed and raw against the floor. I reached out, my hands shaking as I cupped the sole of her shoe.

Use your tongue, boy, she directed, leaning back and watching me with an expression of detached fascination. I want to feel how much you value the ground I walk on.

I pressed my face to the leather, then to the arch of her foot as she slid the shoe off. The sensation of her nylon - clad sole against my lips was electric. I began to lick the fabric, tracing the shape of her foot with a devotion that bordered on the religious. I was no longer a man; I was a tool, a pet, a shadow in her light.

Good, she whispered, reaching down to trail a long, manicured nail over my burning cheek. You have no idea how much your life is about to change. Tomorrow, I will introduce you to Khalil Wallace. He will be seeing quite a lot of me, and you will be there to witness every moment of it. You will serve us both. You will watch as he gives me the heir I require, and you will thank me for the privilege of being allowed to witness my greatness.

I looked up at her, my eyes wet with tears of submission. Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.

Odette smirks, her hand moving to grip my hair, forcing my head back down to her feet. Don't thank me yet, Archer. By the time I am finished with you, you won't even remember what it felt like to be a man. You will only know what it feels like to be mine.

Chapter 4: The Weight of Her Unyielding Gaze

The executive suite of Vertex Global was not merely an office; it was a cathedral of glass and cold ambition that seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of Odette Anderson's will. The floor was a polished expanse of obsidian marble, reflecting the sharp, unforgiving lines of the minimalist furniture and the sprawling city skyline beyond the floor - to - ceiling windows. Archer Little felt the chill of the stone against his bare knees, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his own skin. He was utterly exposed, a pale and trembling figure stripped of his cheap clothes and his dignity, kneeling in the center of a room that held the power to crush empires.

Odette sat behind her desk, her presence a heavy, suffocating weight that Archer found himself craving like oxygen. She was perfectly composed in a tailored, midnight - blue power suit, her blonde hair pulled back into a sleek, lethal ponytail. She did not look at him at first. She continued to type on her keyboard, the rhythmic click of the keys sounding like a countdown to his total dissolution. To Odette, Archer was less than a man; he was a variable to be adjusted, a resource to be exploited for her own domestic comfort.

Do you feel it, Archer? Odette asked, her voice smooth and sharp as a diamond blade. She finally looked up, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his. The insignificance of your existence in this room? You are a data processor. You are a footnote in the ledger of my life. And yet, here you are, permitted to breathe my air.

I feel it, Mistress, Archer whispered, his voice cracking. He didn't dare look away from her. The romance of his situation was found in the absolute clarity of his purpose. For months, he had been a ghost in the cubicles, but under her unyielding gaze, he finally felt seen. Even if she saw him as a dog, at least he was her dog.

Move closer, she commanded.

Archer crawled across the marble, the sound of his skin sliding against the stone echoing in the cavernous space. He stopped at the edge of her desk, keeping his head bowed until she cleared her throat. He looked up to find her foot resting on the edge of the mahogany. She was wearing a pair of black stiletto pumps with a red sole that screamed of blood and authority.

My feet are tired, Archer, she said, a small, cruel smile playing