Cat's Stories
Christine's Lesson in Taking Dicktation by Cat
Christine's Lesson in Taking Dicktation
It was another day and another job interview. Christine was tired of walking endless miles of concrete, searching towering buildings for the correct gold-plated number, then waiting nervously in crowded reception areas. She was unsure why she had been turned down so many times; certainly her skills were not to blame. Her appearance and demeanor were professional, and she was always well-groomed. The employment agency surmised it was because she was new to the area and lacked that essential college degree so many employers were requiring, even for their administrative staff.
She sighed as she reached the 30-story building on the corner of Grant Street. An elevator took her to the 40th floor. She found the offices of Jefferies and Smith, a consulting firm that specialized in engineering projects. It was 5:00, the close of the business day, and the atmosphere was very quiet. "May I help you?" inquired the receptionist, an older woman of perhaps 50.
Christine smiled what she hoped was confidently. "Yes, I'm Christine White, and I have a 5:15 appointment with Mr. Jefferies regarding the executive secretary position."
"Have a seat," the woman said brusquely. "I'll inform him that you are here."
Christine thanked her and sat on one of the burgundy chairs. Windows lined the reception area and the view of the city below was spectacular. She was mentally psyching herself for the interview when a man stepped out of an office across from her. He was medium height, with a slim build. He had thick dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and wire-rimmed spectacles. His suit pants were expertly creased, and he wore a dress shirt with a red paisley tie. He examined her appraisingly; she tried to meet his gaze but blushed and turned away, for his stare was too intense -- too penetrating. When she looked back up, he was no longer there.
"Ms. White? Mr. Jefferies will see you now."
"Thank you," Christine replied and followed the woman through the door from which the man had appeared; the receptionist closed the door behind her. The office appeared empty and she debated whether to sit or continue standing. She examined several expertly taken photographs decorating the shelves of an oak bookcase. "Ms. White?" Christine started at the man's voice behind her. She turned and found herself facing that same penetrating stare, as his deep brown eyes bored into her own. He extended his hand and she shook it firmly. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a black leather sofa in the corner. She sank into the leather seat, which felt sinfully comfortable. She declined the drink he offered, but he helped himself to one and sat in a chair beside the sofa, his knee nearly touching hers.
She was acutely aware that her skirt had ridden up as she sat down and that he had an ample glimpse of her thigh, including her garter. Not wanting to appear self-conscious, she controlled the urge to tug it back down.
"Why do you want this job, Ms. White?" he asked directly.
She answered in the same forthright manner. "I'm an excellent secretary, Mr. Jefferies. I moved from the Midwest to be with my mother, who has been ill, and I am interested in this particular position because it sounds challenging.
"How many interviews have you been on?" She hesitated but decided to be honest.
"Eight." His eyebrow raised.
"According to your resume, you have an impressive list of skills. Why hasn't someone snapped you up?"
The question flustered her. "I'm not sure, Mr. Jefferies. Perhaps because I am primarily self-taught."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "How long have you been looking for a job?" "About three months," she replied. "If I don't find one soon, I'll have to move back to Wisconsin and let the state take my mother's house."
"Well, perhaps we can work something out," he said and she brightened. "Why don't you look over our company brochure?" he handed her a small sheaf of papers, which she carefully examined. At the back of the folder were several photographs of naked women, in the very office in which she sat, performing various sexual acts, including masturbation and anal sex. Her mouth opened in shock and she nearly dropped the folder. He leaned forward to see what had caused the alarm. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said dismissively. "I have no idea how those got in there. Now let's discuss why you think you might be suited to this position."
"Well," she stammered, trying to erase the memory of those pictures, "I, I'm a hard worker, and I'm never late--"
He interrupted her with a gesture. "I'm not as interested in your qualifications as a secretary, although they will be very beneficial to me. I'm interested in turning you into my personal slut."
Christine was certain she had heard him incorrectly. "I, I'm sorry?" she said, her voice raised. "I missed your last remark."
He smiled, and she noticed that instead of it being warm, as she had believed earlier, he actually had a very sinister smile. His placed his hand on her thigh. "You know exactly what I said."
She pushed his hand off her leg and stood up. "I'm sorry Mr. Jefferies. I think I'm looking for something else." And she turned to leave, her face red with anger.
As her hand grasped the doorknob, he said "It's a shame about your mother and that she'll lose her house."
She whirled around. "I'll find a job," she said indignantly.
He shook his head. "No, you won't."
"What makes you say that?" she demanded. "First of all you're much too pretty and polished. Any man who hired you as a personal secretary would have a jealous wife to contend with. Second, though you have skills, I've seen a lot of other resumes from women with similar skills AND a college degree. Third, you aren't from this area. Instead of city sophistication, you have a certain air of country innocence. This puts you at a distinct disadvantage. You are also unfamiliar with the region and you don't seem very tough. Fourth, I will tell the employment agency you were rude and walked out on our interview."
"With good reason!" she retorted.
"And who do you think they'll believe Christine? I have an excellent reputation in this town. And eight other firms HAVE turned you down." His words had been calculated to discourage, and she recognized the truth in what he said.
He walked over to her. "Turn around."
She felt helpless and resignedly turned so that he could examine her. She did not move as he unbuttoned her camel-colored blazer and parted it so that he could see her breasts beneath the white blouse. He ran his fingers lightly over the tips, and she bit her lip to suppress a moan. Suddenly he grabbed them through the fabric of her blouse and twisted each one hard between thumb and forefinger.
"Ahh!" Christine whimpered and he smiled at her discomfort. But she did not move away.
"Take off your jacket." She set the jacket neatly on the couch. "I want to test some of your skills," he said. "Sit at the computer." She sat at a desk facing his, but with some distance between them. He sat down in his executive chair. "Spread your legs." She parted her legs, realizing that the desk had been specially ordered because of the clear view it provided of the occupant's actions beneath the desk. Her skirt was tight, and he looked directly between the V of her thighs. "Stockings," he observed. "Nice. Spread them further." She moved her legs widely apart. "When we are alone, that is how I want you to sit." She nodded. "There's something on the copystand for you to type." As she comprehended what she was typing, her pale complexion turned crimson.
"He pinned her to the bed, and she could feel the full weight of his lean, muscular body trapping her beneath him. She struggled but he only laughed at her helplessness. He parted her legs and used a knee to pin them down. She tried to scream but he clamped his hand tightly over her lips. 'You are mine, wench.' And she shrieked as he forced his organ into her backdoor, which had never received any man. Needles of pain coursed through her and she stiffened, but it only made things tighter for him and he grunted his enjoyment. 'I will take you this way whenever I feel. I shall never take you any other way until I feel you are worthy. You are but a peasant, my vassal. Your womb is unworthy of my seed and I will not allow you to bear my bastards.' She whimpered beneath him. 'Please My Lord, you are hurting me!' But her soft cries only incited him, and he plundered her furiously until he had satisfied this urge to use her as an animal and the royal juice came gushing forth from his member."
Her typing slowed considerably and her breathing quickened. She was aware of a dampness spreading between her thighs. Carl found her flushed cheeks enticing and as her fingers fumbled nervously over the keyboard, he walked up behind her. He traced the length of her neck with his fingernails, and she gasped as he dug them hard into her flesh. He pulled her to her feet and covered her mouth with his own, his tongue energetically exploring the warm cavern. Her knees were weak and she was pliant as he pushed her to the floor. "Suck me, slut."
She unbuttoned his trousers. To her surprise, and a little her shame, he was not erect. He wore men's satin thongs, and she released his shaft from its shiny cradle. She took him gently into her mouth. But he forced himself deep inside and became still, refusing to let her draw back. Soon he swelled, his penis filling her throat, and for a moment she could not breath. Then he withdrew, only to slide it back down her throat. Tendrils of dark hair escaped from her bun and clung to her cheeks, wet with her saliva. "You will swallow my semen if I cum," he ordered. She knelt before him, his cock in her mouth, and he reached into her shirt. Her dark nipples were hard and easily visible beneath the sheer white fabric.
She felt violated by his possession of her mouth. She wanted to leave but needed the job so desperately. He pulled his manhood from between her lips and held it in front of her. "Lick it." She stuck out her tongue to gather the drops of pre-cum that oozed from its thick circumcised head. Her tongue traced the blue veins that curved around his shaft. He pushed her face into his testicles, and she was overwhelmed by the scent of him. She licked them gently, weighing each one on her tongue before taking it into her mouth, surrounding him in warm moistness. "Very good," and he caressed her cheek with his hand. Suddenly she stopped. "I can't do this!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet. She ran through the only open door she could see, which led to a washroom. Her heart pounding, she shut the door tightly behind her. Her hands trembled as she looked in the mirror and tried to restore some of her dignity. Her lipstick was smeared across her cheek and her hair was mussed. She saw the aroused points of her breasts pushing insistently against her blouse and she closed her eyes, remembering the way he had squeezed them. She traced their outlines and shivered as the sensation traveled to the delicate place between her legs. She reached beneath her skirt and began to stroke herself, sliding one finger into the opening and coating it with a wet stickiness. She took her lubricated finger and caressed her clitoris tenderly, moving in small circles.
She didn't know that the mirror was one-way glass and that Carl Jefferies was watching her intently. He smiled, silently congratulating himself on having such an effect on her. He knew that she was frightened of this power he had over her, but he also knew from watching her that she would be his. He forcefully pushed open the door to the washroom, and she stared at him, horrified at having been discovered. "You like it, don't you?" he said and grabbed her. She tried to deny it, but when he touched her breast, she released an involuntary moan and leaned against him. "Yes, damn you." she whispered. He laughed, and she felt humiliated at her body's betrayal. "Crawl," he instructed, pushing her away from him. She obediently crawled back into the office; he walked behind her, enjoying the way her voluptuous backside swayed.
"Stand up." She stood and he pushed her against his desk, bending her at the waist. He removed his tie and fastened her hands together, attaching the free end firmly to one of the drawers. Next he stripped her, peeling off her skirt and placing it beneath her head. He tore her blouse open, the buttons dancing on the hardwood floor. With scissors, he snipped a hole in the seat of her silk panties. "I'll buy you new clothes," he murmured softly into her ear, before biting down on the smooth skin of her neck. She felt a rush of desire, mingled with fear, for she was now helpless with this man who was really a stranger, although she had already performed some very intimate acts with him. She was pinned to the desk, naked except for garters, silk stockings, and white, high-heeled pumps. She watched anxiously as he searched in his drawer, producing two black binder clips, which he pinched open and placed on her nipples. She gasped at the pain, which was a completely new sensation for her.
"Do you know what I'm going to do now?" he asked, almost maliciously. She shook her head. "No." "I'm going to take a picture of you, bent over, your ass sticking out, just waiting to be filled."
"Please, no pictures!" she exclaimed. "What would my son think if he ever saw them?"
"You have a child? You don't wear a wedding band. How old is the child?"
"Six months," she said softly. "I'm not married." He surprised her by leaning forward and grabbing one of her breasts mashed against the desk top. He removed the clamp and squeezed the soft flesh. "Mmm, beautiful!" he said as a stream of white cream sprayed across the wooden desk. She closed her eyes, her face turning crimson, as he continued to milk her. He pried her mouth open and squirted some into her mouth. "This is quite a pleasant surprise," he said, before replacing the clip on her nipple. "But I can't have you soaking my desk. Don't worry. Your face won't be in the pictures, should I choose to show them to anyone." Tears of humiliation trickled from her eyes as she heard the camera click and saw the flash. Occasionally he rearranged her underwear to expose more of her genitalia.
When he finished taking snapshots, he came up behind her and she felt the head of his cock touching her through the hole cut into her panties. He rubbed it against the lips of her mound, which was dripping with evidence of her arousal. She thought he was going to enter her vagina and did not protest. But then she felt him pushing himself against her other opening, the one that made her feel dirty and unclean. "Stop! What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry Christine, for taking you like this so soon...but I want to make you mine," he said roughly, and in one fluid motion, he shoved his long erection fully into her small puckered anus. She screamed and felt faint as he continued to ram himself in and out of her. "Oh God!" he groaned, his breath hot on her neck. "You're so tight...such a sweet slut. Tell me you like my cock." And strangely she did like it, despite the pain. She liked being overpowered and treated as the slut she had always known herself to be inside. "Yes, I like you to fuck my ass." She said between gritted teeth. And he pumped harder, her vulgarity stimulating him further. Her throbbing, pinched nipples slid against the desk with each thrust, a pleasant type of pain. She sobbed, overpowered by these sensations.
He pulled her panties back between her legs so that the fabric pressed firmly against her clitoris. She wiggled and moaned against them. Tugging her head back by her bun, so tightly pinned that it refused to come undone, he devoured her nape. He was rewarded when she squeezed his shaft with the muscles of her anus.
"Ah, my delicious slut," he groaned and ejaculated into her. He collapsed on her, his weight holding her down, his cock still inside. "I love fucking your shithole," he said to her, pleased when she responded to his coarseness with delicate blushes. "Push me out slowly," he said.
"I, I don't know what you mean." she said shyly. "Like you're having a bowel movement. Push me out of your ass." He grunted as she obeyed him, and he savored the feel of sliding gently from her abused opening.
He had taken her and she belonged to him now. She knew that she would accept the job, behaving like the proper secretary before everyone else while he treated her like the slut he knew she could be.
Over the next few weeks, she was trained on the office equipment and the company's procedures. But when the door closed, she was trained to sit beneath his desk and suck his cock silently while he engaged in international conference calls. She learned to wear the thong panties he bought for her and to lift her skirt in the limousine so that he could push the thong aside and take her quickly before long flights overseas. He taught her to stroke him beneath his coat on the airplane, as he pretended to be engrossed in his laptop. She would catch his ejaculate in her palm and discreetly bring it to her lips to consume the evidence. She was taught to tolerate harsh whippings that left her backside welted when he had a difficult day and wanted to use her to relieve his stress. She endured cleansing enemas and he humiliated her by standing beside the toilet as she expelled the fecal matter. Then he would wipe her dirty ass and make her thank him.
Some of the things he made her do were small, degrading exercises designed to enforce his control of her. There was the time he sent her to the photocopy room and ordered her to return with a Xerox of her naked breasts. And the time she brought his coffee but forgot the cream. Instead of sending her back for it, he unbuttoned her blouse and squirted fresh milk from her breast. A client was in the office at the time and did not bat an eye at this display. In fact, he said he would like cream as well. She looked to Carl for his response and he nodded. Obediently, she walked over to the client and leaned over so that he could milk her breast into his cup. The client grinned as he squeezed her tit and several streams of sweet warm milk made swirls in the black coffee. He licked the last few drops directly from her nipple and she gasped.
"Careful Drew. You haven't signed the papers yet." Carl said smiling, but his eyes revealed how serious he was. Drew immediately reached for a pen and scrawled his signature on the bottom of a contract. He pushed it across the desk at Carl, who smiled. "Very well." Then he looked at Christine. "Assume Position A."
Carl had trained her to assume various positions on command. Position A required her to kneel, hands behind her head. He had never included anyone else in her service to him, and she was very nervous. The first thing Carl did was lock a black leather collar around her neck and put his lips close to her ear. "You belong to me. Don't forget it." he whispered.
She nodded. "Yes Boss."
"Strip and assume Position C." She got to her feet, and her hands were shaking as she shed her clothing. Drew let out a low whistle as he saw what she wore beneath her prim and proper business suit: a white silk thong that nestled in the crack of her ass, a demi bra that pushed her breasts high so that they spilled over the top, garter belt, stockings, and Carl's favorite 5 inch heeled white pumps. But she removed everything, as commanded, until she stood before the two men wearing only the black collar. Position C meant that she should stand with legs apart and spread her cunt lips. Carl had long ago ordered her to shave, and they could clearly see her pink moist opening. A bulge grew in the front of Drew's pants. The strap of her bra slipped down her shoulder and she reached to pull it up. Carl quickly responded by slapping her exposed pussy. "What rules did you disobey?" he demanded.
"I must ask permission before replacing fallen straps. And I am not to move from a position until you have told me to do so." She put her hand back to display herself.
"Drew has the option of fucking you or receiving oral service."
She was shocked, but a look of warning from Carl silenced the objections she was prepared to voice. "Yes Mr. Jefferies. Anything you require."
"As sweet as that snatch looks," Drew interjected. "I want to see your little slut take my big meat into her mouth."
"Position E!" Carl barked out. Immediately she dropped to her knees, hands behind her head, and opened her mouth, extending her pink tongue. Drew stepped before her and dropped his pants. She gasped when she saw the size of him. He was very thick. He rubbed the head on her tongue, then fed it to her inch by inch. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing through her nose as he pushed it in. "Look at me!" he said, lightly smacking her cheek. She looked into his blue eyes, filled with lust and satisfaction at being able to use her. "I wanna see you deep throat, like Carl's always bragging about."
She swallowed him down, but he was so large that it pained her and she gagged. "Oh yeah, that's good bitch." And he thrust back down her esophagus. "I'm gonna fuck that tight throat until I shoot my load." True to his word, despite her continued gagging and panting for breath, he used her mouth like a vagina until thick cum spurted from his penis. Her throat felt raw and sore from the abrasive thrusting. Yet she did not move from the position, even to wipe the thread of white semen that dribbled from her lips. "Very good, Christine." Carl praised her, stroking her shiny hair. Drew zipped his pants and did not even acknowledge her. He shook Carl's hand. "I'll see you at the meeting on Thursday." Carl nodded and Drew left the office.
Christine immediately started to cry. "How could you do that to me?" she asked him. If she had hoped for sympathy, she was very disappointed.
He looked at her with that unavoidable gaze. "You - are - mine." he stated succinctly. "This was a business deal nothing more; you are one of my assets and I traded your services to secure an important piece of business. If you object, you can turn in your resignation. I will be fairly generous with severance." It hurt her that he could so easily dismiss her. She didn't know how much he adored her and loved having her as his plaything. He also enjoyed her sharp mind, her naivete, and her quiet sense of humor. She would not be easily replaced.
She had spent a month devoted to serving him for at least nine hours a day. He was so much a part of her life now that she could not leave. She would be lost without the daily discipline and training. "I am sorry, Mr. Jefferies, for questioning your business dealings. Please forgive me." Her apology appeased him.
One afternoon, as she sat typing at the computer, she was aware of him studying her closely. She was naked, because he had forced her to strip that morning and locked her clothes in his safe. Suddenly he spoke. "Position F." The "F" was for fuck, and she immediately, without a word, knelt on the floor and leaned forward so that her head rested on the carpet and her ass was presented to him high in the air. She reached behind and spread her cheeks. Instead of filling her with his cock, he inserted a large, silicone plug into the hole. She cried out as it stretched her wide. She had never taken anything so large before. He fastened straps around her waist and thighs to secure it. "This will help remind you of your position. Now let's go to lunch and discuss the Walker deal. Get dressed." He tossed her clothing at her.
She dressed in her slightly rumpled suit and walked stiffly after him through the office door. During lunch she was cognizant of the object in her rectum. Each time she shifted in her seat, it pressed into her. He enjoyed the thought of her sitting across from him, being used by him, unknown to anyone but the two of them. "Comfortable?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"Of course not!" she hissed. "I feel like I'm about to lay an egg!"
"Hmm," he mused. "That can be arranged." She rolled her eyes and returned to perusing the menu. "Lift up your skirt." he said. She looked at him as though he were insane. "I want you sitting with your ass directly on the chair." She did as he instructed and her bare cheeks rested on the vinyl seat. It was hard for her to concentrate on the business at hand, as he ordered her to arrange conferences, prepare files, and generate correspondence to various clients. But she knew that he would remember everything, and if she forgot one item, she would be punished.
The last time he had punished her was when she forgot to order muffins and bagels for an early morning meeting. He made her spend her entire lunch hour on her knees, blindfolded, in the corner. She did not enjoy these punishments. "Christine, are you listening?" he asked, interrupting her reverie. "Yes, Mr. Jefferies. You were reminding me to order the tickets to London." He smiled. "That was about three items ago. Is something distracting you?" She blushed, realizing to just what he was referring. He looked at his watch. "We'd better leave now if we intend to make the board meeting." She allowed him to stand first, then she rose and followed him back to the car. She sat in her usual manner, skirt pulled up, legs slightly parted. He nodded approvingly. "You are becoming very well-trained."
Back at the office, he relieved her of the thick plug. Meanwhile, the board members had already started to arrive. Carl would be unavailable for the rest of the day and dismissed all the staff except Christine, whom he needed to assist him. "Are you ready?" he inquired and she nodded, grabbing her steno pad. He shook his head. "You won't need that." He took them from her hands. "Position B."
She stood still, arms at her sides, legs together, and closed her eyes. She thought perhaps he would kiss her or fondle her before going in; instead, he blindfolded her. "Mr. Jefferies?" Her voice was questioning. "Do as you're told. No questions." She heard the large, heavy conference room doors swing open. He ushered her into the room, and led her up three steps.
Though she did not know it, she stood on a platform brought in specifically for the occasion. "Mr. Jefferies!" she said urgently and reached for him. But her hand felt only empty air. Then soft hands were caressing her, stroking her hair, her cheeks, her breasts and stomach, her backside. She nearly purred from the gentle attention. Her senses made her suspect that it was a woman who lavished such affection on her. The thought excited her but at the same time made her nervous. Then she was again alone, until strong hands deliberately ripped the clothing from her body. She started to flail her arms but was afraid it might be Mr. Jefferies, so she stopped and became still. The sting of a whip landed on her back and she jumped. Carl spoke. "You were not given permission to move."
So he was not the one who was ripping the clothes forcefully from her. She trembled. "I'm sorry Mr. Jefferies." she said aloud, but wondered silently what kind of meeting this was going to be.
Carl addressed the people at the table. "Members of the board, may I present Christine. She has been in my employ and my training for the past five months. She is progressing very well and should be ready for the deal with the Japanese this summer." Christine wondered what he was talking about. What deal? Was he talking about the deal with Yonehama? Was she the "bonus" continually referred to in the contract?
"You can't do that to me," she exclaimed and started to tear the blindfold from her eyes.
"Quiet!" Carl whispered to her. "I'll explain later. Just do as I say." He replaced the blindfold.
"As you can see, she still needs a little more work." She heard a few chuckles. Her hands were placed behind her back and tied securely. A gag was placed in her mouth, the leather straps adjusted securely around her head.
Carl chained her bound hands to a ring in the wall, so that she could move only a foot in either direction. "Spread her legs." Hands grasped her ankles and pulled her legs apart. A bar was placed between them, with cuffs that encircled each ankle. For the final touch, he placed a leather collar about her neck, which forced her chin high. This was also connected to the wall by a heavy chain that ran from the D ring of the collar. She was at his mercy.
If she thought the floggings she had received before were severe, she was in for a great shock. She screamed as the bamboo cane struck her across the breasts, but the sound was muffled by the ball in her mouth. Carl caned her slowly, with carefully placed blows that left red parallel lines on her breasts and thighs. Each one stung and burned, and she longed to soothe the hot flesh with her cool hands. She was unchained from the wall and placed face down on the boardroom table. The cool polished wood comforted her welted body. When the cane descended on her shoulders, she tried to squirm off the table. Her hands were untied, and she thought that was the end of it. But instead, each wrist was cuffed, and they were retied beneath the table. Members of the board watched as Carl moved the cane deliberately down her body, from her shoulders to her calves, leaving stripes almost 1/2" wide. She sobbed and screamed, tears sliding down her cheeks from beneath the blindfold, her screams muffled.
Someone knelt behind her. Someone who grabbed her hot flaming asscheeks and spread them apart. She could feel his maleness making its way into her vagina. It was long and thin, and he shoved it hard so that it stabbed her womb and she winced. As he did this, the gag was removed and a woman's furry triangle pushed insistently against her mouth until she opened it. While her vagina was being pummeled, she parted the woman's slit with her tongue and slid it inside the warm, wet folds. The woman moaned and caressed her hair. Then the woman's hands became grasping claws, as she clasped Christine's mouth against her bushy mound. Christine felt dizzy and could hardly breathe as her nose and mouth were buried in the woman's cunt. Her jaws ached and her tongue started to tire, and finally the woman climaxed. White sticky fluid oozed from her pussy with its big fleshy lips. Christine was not released but instead the woman ground her cum-soaked genitals against Christine's mouth. "Lick it up, whore." the woman said in a husky voice. It was obvious from her tone that she enjoyed her superiority to Christine's position. Somehow being called a whore seemed worse coming from a woman.
The man behind her came when he heard the other woman's exclamations of pleasure, and he held his latex-encased cock in front of her now. "Suck your juices off me." She pressed her lips tightly shut, but a sharp blow to her backside with a single tail whip made her cry out, and he took advantage of this to force himself into her open mouth. She wondered when this torment would end.
She was untied from the table, rolled onto her back, and resecured. She shivered as someone trailed an ice cube down her neck, over her breasts, to her navel, and down her legs to her toes. This was joined by another ice cube and another, until she was chilled everywhere. Ice was held against her nipples, numbing them, and against her clitoris until it burned like fire. She whimpered and writhed, for she had always hated when Carl tormented her with ice. A voice mocked her. "What's the matter? Are you cold?"
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Please stop."
"Perhaps you'd like a little heat instead," Carl suggested. He removed the blindfold. As she watched, he made a trail with rubbing alcohol from her legs to her breasts. He took a match and struck it against the table.
She shook her head in protest. "Oh God no!" she cried. But he smiled and ignited the alcohol. She watched in horror as a trail of fire traveled up her torso. Surprisingly, although she could feel its heat, it did not burn her and she sighed in relief when the flame was quickly extinguished.
"You bastard," she hissed. The look in his eyes went from amusement to cold steel.
He grabbed her chin. "What did you call me?"
"You heard me," she spat at him.
"You asked for this," he said and turned away. She knew she should not have provoked him; she knew that his temper was fierce. But her anger was intense and she wanted to strike out at him. She looked at him with undisguised defiance. He had never hit her in anger. His punishments tended to involve deprivation, rather than inflicting pain. Her tolerance for pain was high, and he did not feel she was suitably punished after a flogging. But this impertinence, and in front of the board, would not be tolerated.
He released her from the table and she quickly got to her feet. Her first instinct was to run for the doors, but she knew they would be locked. Carl had often used the conference room as a place to satisfy himself with her, always locking the doors. Instead, she met his angry gaze. She had always submitted and had never challenged him before. It infuriated him, but it also aroused him. She stood unmoving as he bound her tightly with rope. Rope was knotted above and below her breasts, and they were squeezed tightly. The rope traveled down her torso, spreading the cleft between her thighs and capturing her hands behind her. She was placed backwards on a chair, and her legs and ankles were shackled to the chair; she could not escape.
Carl stood in front of her, running his hands down a sinister looking bullwhip. She should have been pleading for forgiveness or begging for his mercy, but she was stubborn and remained silent. One of the women pulled a hood over her face and the scent of the leather flooded her nostrils. The eyes were zipped shut, and the mouth was strapped closed, forcing a leather gag into her mouth. "Remove the gag," Carl said. "I want to hear her scream."
The gag was unfastened and Christine licked her lips nervously. She could hear Carl's footsteps as he walked around her, prolonging the anticipation. The other board members watched eagerly, lusting her torment. A hiss cut the air, and there was a loud crack beside her right ear. She flinched beneath the hood and pulled instinctively to the left.
Her whole body was a mass of bruises and welts, and she doubted there was an unmarred place on her body. The long leather lash struck her shoulders and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. As a second blow rained down on her, she moaned and tasted blood as her teeth sunk deeper into her lower lip. Carl knew she was suffering, and he relished it. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he raised the whip again. Board members watched, equally fascinated and horrified. This time she screamed as the whip fell across her upper back. A small red stream trickled warmly down her back. She knew he was waiting for her to apologize, but she resisted. He enjoyed her resistance because it gave him a reason to continue whipping her. The next swing was the hardest, and she nearly fainted from the shock. "I, I'm sorry Master," she whispered, her head bowed.
He threw the whip down and stood before her. He lifted her chin and placed a kiss on her bloodied lips. She parted her lips to allow him entry. "Don't ever embarrass me that way again," he said softly, so that only she could hear. She shook her head. "I won't. I promise." He released her then and had her sit on the floor beside him, wearing nothing but collar and cuffs. He addressed the board. "Shall we take a vote?"
There were murmurs of assent. "All those in favor of trading Christine to the Japanese, say 'Aye." The vote was unanimous. Christine was to be included in the business deal with the Japanese. She wanted to protest but now knew better than to confront Carl.
She knew the terms of the deal very well. She just had not realized she was the bonus. The agreement relegated her to the Japanese for one month. Who knew what they would do to her? Only time would tell.
Before the meeting adjourned, each of the seven board members took turns using her. They placed her on hands and knees on the floor. She was penetrated by thick cock after cock but was too tired and bruised to consider resisting. Her ass was plundered multiple times until it became numb, the tight little hole stretched wide, torn and trickling a gooey stream of cum and blood. Despite the suffering, she found herself becoming aroused. She moaned as a particularly well-endowed man filled her tight snatch with his dick, sliding it hard and fast and deep. She started fucking him back, milking his member with her pussy.
"The little bitch likes a cock, don't you?" She didn't answer and the thrusting stopped.
"Please give me more!" She begged. "Fuck me, all of you!" She wiggled her impaled cunt against his cock. "I need it," she groaned, her body aching to feel him slamming his shaft into her hungry pussy.
"You need it?" A voice asked. "Then we'll make sure you get it." Someone slid beneath her and she felt a second cock forcing its way into her already filled hole. She gasped as her vaginal opening was stretched tightly around the two cocks. "No, no, no!" She cried and she tried to get out of their grasp. Her movements excited them and they imprisoned her firmly between them as they fucked her hard. As their cocks slid against one another and her cunt grew slicker as she became more aroused, they came almost simultaneously. The sounds of their orgasms and the feel of their penises throbbing inside drove Christine wild and she felt a familiar warmth engulf her clitoris. "Oh, I'm cumming!" She moaned. "I'm cumming! Unh! Unh! Unh!" And she bore down on the two squirting dicks inside her.
The board members continued to use her in every conceivable way. Her jaws ached from sucking cock and lapping at each woman's engorged clitoris. Her nipples were clamped tightly with tweezer like clamps, their rubber tips digging into her swollen purplish nubs. Some of the board members delighted in pulling the chain that connected them, stretching her nipples taut, bruising them. Three hours passed before the meeting was adjourned. Three hours during which she was used repeatedly. Sweat and semen covered her. For the coup de grace, they lined up one by one and pissed on her. She retched as the stinking hot urine showered her tits and cunt and streamed into her mouth. She closed her lips tightly as Carl tried to fill her mouth with his golden Juice. He slapped her across the face. "Open your piss-drinking, cock-sucking mouth, cunt." He slapped her again and she opened her mouth in a small O. She tried to swallow as her throat filled up with his pungent urine. It was bitter and salty, like nothing she had ever tasted. As he urinated down her throat, another man stood at her head and sprayed her hair with his pee. "Damn, these meetings are long." He said with a grin. "Didn't think I'd be able to hold it much longer." Christine shivered, her whole battered body resting in a pool of quickly cooling piss. When everyone had left, and every drop of piss was sprayed onto Christine's body, Carl assisted her to the bathroom to clean herself.
"Why did you do this to me?" she asked weakly, as he sponged her gently with a washcloth.
"Because you are mine," he said, "to do with as I please."
"And did it please you?" she asked, with a ragged sob.
"You please me," he said, and he kissed her. "Then why are you trading me to the Japanese?" she demanded.
"It's only for a month," he said. "I think the experience will be good for you. They have unique ways of training sluts to behave. Don't worry, they will keep me posted on your progress, via videocassette."
She blushed at the thought of being filmed performing who knew what illicit acts. "I love you Sir," she said, her voice so soft it sounded like a sigh.
He smiled. "Thank you Christine. That's truly a wonderful gift. In my own way, I love you as well. But you belong to me -- I do not belong to you. Never forget that."
She nodded. "I understand."
"I'll take you home," he said. "In fact, tonight I'll stay with you." She looked up at him in surprise. He had never stayed the night with her before. She started to speak. "Shh," he said and placed a finger on her lips. "Let's go." And he turned out the lights.
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