Darkest Fantasies Page 4

  Sensing a fractional easing of his tension, Melissa relaxed her grip. 'Good boy,' she said. 'Now, stand up and take off your shirt. I want to see the goods before I buy.'

  Kevin was taken aback. 'But we're in my office, I can't—'

  'Afraid?' she taunted. 'Most of them have gone home.'

  'The cleaners?'

  'What cleaners, I've never noticed any around,' she said scathingly. 'Now, stand up and take off your shirt. I don't intent to tell you again.'

  There was a snap to her voice which had him out of the chair like a shot. To his bewilderment, Kevin found himself removing his shirt as he had been told. There was a sort of risqué element about doing it in the office, and even while he was undoing his tie and slipping the buttons, his prick, which had wilted during the confrontation, hardened again dramatically. He decided that he hadn't jumped to the sound of her voice, but that he had decided to go along for the ride; see how bold she really was when push came to shove. Melissa perched on the edge of his desk, her legs invitingly wide. He could see the briefest hint of lace and his breath quickened.

  'Now the rest.'

  'Oh no, you can't be serious...'

  But she gave him a look that made his hands slip down to the waistband of his trousers. Even while he was fumbling with the zip, slipping the fabric down, freeing his erection from the confines of his pouch, she was watching him avidly. As he bent down to remove his shoes and socks he sensed her eyes on him almost like a physical touch, making his hair follicles rise and quiver with the thrill of anticipation, or nervousness, or embarrassment in case someone should come in. He wasn't quite sure what it was.

  'You want me to show you what I can do so you can give me a star,' she accused. 'Now, legs spread, arms up.'

  Her voice was lower, huskier than it had been previously, and he knew from the tenseness of her own body that she found him alluring. His ego rose a notch towards its normal level. He was attractive and he knew it; a fine specimen, hard in all the right places, without the least hint of middle-age spread. But standing in his office with his legs wide and his arms above his head, he felt a slight chill and shivered. God help him if any of the directors were still around. Even with the door locked he felt vulnerable.

  Melissa stood up and inspected him closely, her fingers sliding down his flat abdomen almost to the bush of pubic hair. His cock twitched in anticipation, but she didn't touch. Instead she moved on around his body. His eyes followed.

  'Keep your head still,' she commanded.

  His face flicked forward and he stared ahead, sensing her behind him with far more excitement now that he could not see what she was doing. He felt the hint of her breath on his back, the lightest touch of her hand upon his tight buttock, and felt his erection jolt with anticipation. Touch me, he was thinking. Touch me, there... But she didn't. She carried her inspection full circle until once again she was leaning her neat bottom on the desk, staring at him speculatively.

  'What?' he asked, somewhat irritably, maintaining his ridiculous posture for some reason he could not fathom. If the cow was being a fucking prick-tease, he'd show her a thing or two. After all, he was one hell of a lot stronger than she was, in spite of her attitude.

  'I'm just thinking what I'd like to do with you, considering the possibilities, wondering how far you'll go,' she replied softly, calling his bluff.

  'How far I'll go?' He gave her his lip-curling, snake-charming assessment. 'I think it's probably the other way around.'

  Her eyes met Kevin's, and held them. As she brought out from behind her back a roll of brown packaging tape she knocked the complacency instantly from his face. For a moment he was almost panicked. One part of him thought he ought to handle the suggestion with the contempt it deserved; laugh, turn away arrogantly, deny he would be party to anything like that. But another part of him, for some stupid reason, shuddered with delicious anticipation at the sight. Why not? the little devil goaded. After all, he was stronger than her and could stop the game at any moment, couldn't he? And he was so very, very aroused. He hadn't felt so excited in years.

  'Turn around and give me your wrists, if you dare,' she said softly.

  His better judgement said 'no way, lady', but he was too arrogant to give way after her challenge, and with a certain amount of bravado did as she asked. He held his wrists crossed behind him as he turned, and presented them to her, slightly pushed away from his body. He felt the first pull of the tape stick to the hairs on his arms, then the bite as she wound it around again and again, pulling it tight, sometimes changing direction and winding it vertically between his crossed hands and arms until his wrists were encased in a thick wadge of tape. He pulled experimentally, and once again a thrill of excitement shivered up through his body as he discovered the tape to be absolutely immovable. His wrists might have been set in concrete.

  She turned him around to face her and reached a cool hand to cradle his balls, which instantly tightened even further in anticipation. 'Now this is mine,' she purred. 'You can't touch yourself or pleasure yourself. I'm the only one who can do that, so you must be nice to me. Do everything I ask you to do, because without my help this will be the most frustrating encounter you will ever experience.'

  The soft tones of her voice washed over him and he drowned in them. But he knew she was wrong. He was already getting pleasure out of the encounter, thank you very much, and surely that must have been obvious to her. Melissa pulled a visitor's chair from beneath his conference table and pushed it towards him. It comprised a simple chrome frame with a fabric seat, a fabric back, and no arms.

  'Sit,' she ordered. 'Arms over the back.'

  This, Kevin was happy to do. From this position she could clamber onto his lap, or kneel before him and take it in her mouth. Intrigued to know which she would choose, he sat straight, his legs spread, his ankles wide.

  Obviously enjoying herself now, she once again took up the roll of tape and grasped one ankle. To his shock she pulled his leg outside the frame and began to bind his ankle to the back leg of the chair. He resisted faintly for a brief instant, then, almost as if she had him hypnotised, he relaxed without her needing to say a single word. His other leg followed suit on the other side, forcing him to arch upward and back into a stretched, almost kneeling posture with his thighs uncomfortably parted over the seat. But it was not all bad, for his prick jutted firmly from his groin, and the added stretch made him feel vulnerable and exposed in the whole of his nether region, and the only way she could service him now was with her mouth. He liked that thought.

  He was still wallowing in anticipation as Melissa grabbed the chair and shuffled it back a little until Kevin's head and arms pressed against the wall, presumably to stop the unstable ensemble from toppling over backwards. Still fully clothed, she stood back and viewed her captive with some satisfaction. 'There, doesn't that feel nice?' she said, once again reaching to toy with his prick. When he didn't instantly answer, her head dipped to his tool and her teeth nipped at the loose flesh of his foreskin. He jerked at the unexpected pain and the erotic sensation of pleasure it sent through him. No one had ever done such a thing to him before, either. He was drowning in exciting new sensations, and it was utterly, utterly wonderful.

  'Say, "yes Melissa", when I ask if it's nice. And when I've finished say, "thank you, Melissa".'

  'Yes Melissa,' he whispered in absolute anticipation, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She smiled in a way he didn't like too much as she opened a drawer in his desk and removed a pair of scissors. She then snipped through the single layer of fabric beneath him, and let the two severed edges hang.

  He yanked against the bonds in consternation. 'What on earth are you doing? Do you realise how much these chairs cost?'

  'It was in the way,' she said huskily, and knelt between his legs. One hand reached up and began to caress the small area of flesh between his anus and his balls, the other began to gently slide up and down the length of his pulsing penis. 'Is this what you want?' she cooed a
s he closed his eyes and sighed. 'Is this nice, Kevin?'

  He gasped and forgot about the way the chrome frame was digging into his inner thighs and about how he was going to explain away the damaged seat. All he knew was that he was stretched wide and vulnerable for her skilled hands to pleasure him, and it was wonderful. She reached into his groin and separated one ball from the tightness there, and began to roll it between her fingers. It was almost painful, but exquisite.

  'Oh, yes,' he gasped. 'Oh, bloody hell.' Sweat beaded his torso. It was not in his nature to lie back and take this. His hands worked convulsively behind his back, and had they not been restrained they would have reached for her, touched her, exposed her breasts. He wanted to be in control, yet being out of control was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. He was shocked at the level of arousal it engendered in him. An arousal more painful, more vibrant than anything he had experienced in a long time.

  Then his world fell apart as something tightened around his balls, bringing his wandering mind back to the present with a start. He was about to remonstrate, to say that enough was enough, when she stood up, firmly holding two ends of string which had been passed beneath the frame. These she wrapped efficiently around his torso, holding him loosely to the back of the chair, and tied off on his chest. He stared down at the knot in confusion. 'What on earth are you doing?' he asked.

  She grinned, bending down to his executive case to take out some keys. 'I'm going to have a little look at your records, my hero.'

  He struggled in anger for just a second, freezing almost instantly, for the slightest movement pulled his balls in a most uncomfortable manner. 'You can't do that,' he blurted. 'Those records are private, they belong to the company.'

  'And who's going to stop me... you?' she smirked. 'I know they're private, that's why I'm looking at them and why I tied you up.'

  His lust chilled with realisation. She was not there for him - she was using him. If looks could kill, she would have been flayed alive. 'You won't get away with this,' he threatened impotently.

  'You could call for help. There must be someone in the building.' She unlocked his filing cabinets and began to browse. She was very efficient, obviously knowing exactly what she wanted and where to find it. Then, when she had a small pile of papers, she went over and unlocked the door. 'I'm just going to the photocopier. Don't go away.'

  Kevin had never felt so stupid or exposed, and his penis withered as he stared at the unlocked door. He shuffled hopefully, wondering if his flaccid state would allow him to slip free of the string, but it was not to be. Horror seeped through his brain as he waited. If anyone found him like this he was finished. He'd never be such an unfaithful prat again. Oh, God, he heard heels clacking along the corridor. This was it - the end of the line.

  But it was just Melissa. He didn't think he would be pleased to see her, but he was more than pleased, he was reprieved and grateful. Thank you, God. She entered briskly, put all his folders right back where they had been before and locked the drawers. He thought nothing could ever make him feel so small, so stupid, until she turned to him again and the flash of a camera made him blink and flinch. His ego totally disappeared as he saw his job and his future disappear in that one blinding moment.

  Her gaze was contemptuous, her voice sarcastic. 'Not all women are bimbos, Kevin. Not all women are just itching to get into your pants. Some of us do more interesting jobs. Like industrial espionage, for instance. And arrogant suckers like you make my job very easy.' She took the scissors and advanced. He whimpered slightly as she threatened his privates with the open blades. She grinned. 'What are you supposed to say to me?'

  He looked up at her vacantly, pitifully.

  'Come on,' she insisted, 'you know what you have to say.'

  'Th-thank you, Melissa,' he stammered.

  She laughed at him, cut the string, then pulled the chair away from the wall and put the scissors in his hands, saying, 'I advise you not to drop them. It should only take you a few moments to get out of that. By then I'll be long gone. You've got two choices. You can forget about this whole incident and just hope it doesn't damage your firm - I guess the level of damage always depends on quite what the firm is hiding, don't you think? Or you can let your bosses know I've taken sensitive information through your own inability to keep your flies buttoned. But if you're unwise enough to do the latter, I will publish the photographs. I think you need to consider the options carefully, Kevin. Don't you?'

  She blew him a kiss, those full pouting lips still able to make his flaccid cock twitch instinctively, and then the door closed behind her and she was gone.

  Kevin bent himself furiously to the task of releasing himself, terrified of being discovered in this most undignified of positions, nothing more urgent than the need to get his clothes back on. Yet after the panic was over, when he was driving home, eager for the comforts of his wife's stability, he knew in one thing Melissa was wrong. He didn't need to consider carefully about what he was going to do; he knew from the moment she handed him the scissors that he had no intention of saying anything to anyone about the humiliating incident.

  But he did smoulder for days, with the simple wish to get his own back. If ever he saw her again, Melissa would wish she had never been born.

  Chapter 4

  Esther had chosen her garb over the last few weeks, partially because the black leather had a distinctive smell which made her feel good, and partially because it was what Kevin wanted. She had been very, very tentatively sounding Kevin out with some pictures in magazines, having discretely left them open at various erotic pictures. There was the frothy kittenish appearance, the rubber, the schoolgirl and other role-play outfits, which did nothing for him. He seemed quite interested in the normal high heels, stockings and bra, but what really turned him on was the leather. Though he called the women with leather dresses and high heeled boots dominant cows, and seemed disgusted that such pictures should be in a magazine his own wife had been able to purchase from the supermarket, with her new-found wisdom, Esther watched his eyes. They betrayed him with a glint of interest. Her Kevin?

  'The funny thing is, he probably doesn't realise it himself,' she told Madam Tisset, once she was over the shock.

  'I don't doubt it,' the woman agreed. 'Convention and role expectations are powerful tools. They will stop the most exciting people from realising their dreams. It's only the brave or the adventurous who manage to smash the boundaries imposed by society, and choose their own lifestyle.'

  'But surely that's what Kevin is doing with these other women?'

  'No, dear, he's doing what men all through life have been doing. He's simply cheating on you. He might think that being with other women is risqué, yet when he's with them, the sex itself is no better than he could have with you if he would only open up a bit and discuss what he wants.'

  'I didn't realise he had those sort of sexual fantasies until I started coming here,' Esther said glumly.

  'My dear, don't you have any?' Esther's blush was a dead give-away, but she carried on kindly. 'Everyone does, you know, but for most people they stay in the mind, never to see the light of day, which is a great shame. Imagination is the very essence of good sex - that and the ability to enjoy what you're doing. Give me a word to describe the sex you have with Kevin.'

  Esther thought about it. 'It's nice enough,' she said hesitantly, for Kevin was a considerate and competent lover.

  '"Nice enough". You see what I mean? If someone said my dress was "nice enough" I'd want to hit them. I want them to say: "stylish, different, exciting" - not just "nice enough". Nice is just not enough to keep you over sixty years of marriage. Have you ever wondered why such a lot of people divorce at around forty or so, when their children begin to leave home? It's because they're bored with each other. And that's what society has done to them.'

  'Were you ever married?' Esther asked.

  'Me? No, no. I was never the marrying type. No way I could ever be faithful to just one man. I love the
lot of them. Besides, I can't stand children.' She shuddered dramatically at the awful prospect. 'Now, dear, I've got someone for you to meet.' She stood up and opened the door into a small dark cupboard which was furnished with nothing but a chair, and on that chair sat a man, hands on thighs, waiting to be commanded. 'You can come out, now,' she said. 'Esther, this is Ben. Ben is going to help us with our lessons today. Aren't you, Ben?'

  'Yes, Madam Tisset.'

  Esther gazed with astonishment at the positively huge young man who beamed at her. He was built like a weightlifter, his chest beaded with muscles, his thighs like tree trunks. Yet he was dressed like something out of a fantasy movie, in tiny leather shorts and an assortment which seemed to be nothing more than straps and buckles covered in patterns of studs. As her gaze slipped down she blushed furiously, realising that his penis was sticking out of the shorts through a hole obviously designed for that purpose.

  Madam Tisset put her hands on her hips. 'Esther, you must stop doing that.'

  'What?' she said, guilty at being caught looking.

  'Blushing. That is partially what today is about. By the end of the day there will be nothing you haven't seen and done to our slave here. So there will be nothing left for you to blush about.'

  'Slave?'

  'You can tie him up, beat him, stick things in him. And if he pleases you, you can make him come at the end of the session,' she added as an afterthought.

  'Anything which pleases,' Ben said happily.

  'Goodness. I don't know - I mean, wouldn't I be as bad as Kevin if I did such things?'

  Madam Tisset patted her shoulder kindly. 'You don't have sex with him, dear. Just beat him around a little. Get it out of your system. Show him who's boss. Now go and get dressed while I get him ready, and then we can get on.'

  While donning the leather gear, Esther sipped at the glass of wine Madam Tisset had left there for her. She was needing the wine less these days, but today was rather different. She'd never had a real live slave to abuse before, and the prospect was a bit daunting, as well as exciting. She wondered what she could do to him, how far he would let her go. She reflected that had this happened a few months back she would have run a mile, and yet here she was, ready to have a go. Not that she had been able to take any of her new-found confidence home yet. In spite of everything, she still shied away from instigating any games with Kevin because she knew with chilling certainty that she was going to have to play her cards right, and that she was not ready for such a confrontation. Even so, she was seeing her husband with new eyes these days. Her own sense of inadequacy and her awe for his wonderful male superiority was wearing a bit thin. She now knew his tiredness for what it was, and smelled the scent of other women on him. It was at that point that any residual feelings of betrayal she might have felt in coming to these sessions finally fled. The only person entitled to abuse her husband, she decided firmly at that moment, was herself. Soon enough she would make sure of that.