An Office Slave Ch. 01

His office was enormous, more like a library, with a large oak conference table near a great window overlooking the city. My gaze skimmed over comfortable and sturdy chairs and couches, a globe, some indoor plants, and classic paintings. My eyes were drawn to one that looked like a rural scenery. What caught my eye was the figure of a woman on the ground looking towards the farmhouse. I had seen a photograph of that painting and I remember having thought: what was she doing? It was a captivating piece of work, and I was tempted to ask Richard what the painting was about. Preposterous. We were not here to discuss art.

Everything was in rich mahogany red and brown tones. On two sides of the room were book shelves from top to bottom, wall to wall, and on the shelves hundreds of books, leather-bound and otherwise, and magazines, perhaps in the thousands. A round table with a vase of flowers also offered decanters of liquids in various tints of red, gold, amber, pink and purple. There was a piano there as well, nearly hidden in an alcove. And there in one corner, naturally blending in were three computers, a printer, several telephones, filing cabinets and three working desks.

Was I to work on one of them?

It was every inch, a purely masculine study, but I heard the strains of a waltz playing in the background, so soft. I was comforted by the music.

I was rudely reminded of why I was there, when he took my briefcase and coat from me and dropped them on a low chair against a wall a few feet from the painting of the woman. He didn't waste any time. He propelled me towards the centre of the room, he dimmed the lights and sat on a chair facing me. I stood in front of him feeling uncertain, like a girl guilty of some wrongdoing.

'Take your clothes off, Nina.'

My dread bloomed dark. He was looking at me with a look that held so much.. hunger.

'Richard,' I whispered. 'Please, not like this...'

'Did you expect romance, Nina? Surely not?' With an impatient sigh, he stood up again, and took the few steps to stand in front of me, his hands loosely on his hips. 'Now, take your clothes off. We don't have much time.'

'I..., I..., I...no, I...' I was shaking in my embarrassment, and the humiliation that he would discover the wetness of my underpants.

My body was heating up and I could feel my face flushing. But I was frozen in my shoes, I opened my mouth to speak again, but he said, in a rather rough growly voice, 'Stow it, Nina.' He propelled me to the blank space on the wall between the woman-on-the-ground painting and the chair that held my briefcase.

He stripped me of my clothes. With deft fingers he unbuttoned my white tailored blouse, and had it off my shoulders in seconds. I fought him silently, pushing at him and slapping his hands. But he was too strong, too protected by his clothes to even feel my strongest blow. He tossed my shirt towards the chair, it landed over my briefcase. My skirt was next, and I was left in my white lace bra and panties, and my black high heeled shoes. The whole time I fought him until he trapped my half naked body with his hips, his hands on the wall on either side of my head.

I found I was panting. Everything was moving so quickly and my reflexes were virtually dead. But my body felt alive. Gloriously alive.

'Let's talk about this, Richard.' I said, hating the shrillness of my voice. My hands were on his crisp shirt front trying to hold him off. I feared I would hyperventilate. My vision was swimming slightly. I had worked all day without eating and I was feeling the effects now. He responded by pinning my wrists high above me and shoving my legs apart with his knees.

'No talking now, Nina,' he muttered. His eyes narrowed and he looked down at my hips. I knew then he could smell my arousal. He looked at me in question. He transferred one of my wrists to his other hand. His hands were big enough to clamp my two wrists together on the wall above me. His legs further forced my legs open and his other hand went down to cup me inside my panties, to feel me... there. Oh. I closed my eyes.

'Nina. My dear, you're soaking wet.' He caressed me there, gently opening my labia.

I whimpered and turned my face away from his gaze. I was afraid he could see my thoughts, my want. Yes, my want. I had not whimpered in fear. I wanted him to touch me, to pinch sensitive flesh, to push those long hard fingers in me, one, two, three.

'Open your eyes.' He ordered quietly. I kept them closed, my face averted in shame.

'Open!' He said, this time harshly. I squeezed my eyes even tighter, and one finger plunged in completely, powerfully, so unexpectedly my eyes flew open and I gave a small cry. I felt his erection grow long and hard against my hip.

'Good God, Nina.' He said with a short laugh. 'I could take you right now.' He removed his finger out of me long enough to stretch my arms further up, trapping my wrists with his forearm against the wall. He then put his foot on the rung of the chair beside us and lifted one of my legs to hook it over his bent knee. He lifted that knee, stretching me wide open to further assault. Dimly I could hear the chamber music through the walls, so soft, so romantic; so incongruous with the scenario being played out here: my initiation as a sexual object.

He pushed the crotch of my panties aside and began feeling me again. His finger had no problem entering. My thighs were wide apart, my wetness making me slick. He watched me as he slid his finger in again. Slow, then.. Slam. Slam. Two fingers. Slam, the force of his violation shaking my breasts. He circled the inside of my vagina, drawing more wetness and making me squirm. His palm pressed against my clitoris, about to drive me crazy.

And he was talking, murmuring in my ear.

'You're mine, Nina. While you're here in the Penthouse, you're mine. I can do anything to you. Like this. More of this, more than this, more of this, and this. I'll make you forget who you are. Here, you are no one, but my whore.' He punctuated his words with his fingers shoving them roughly into me proving to me that I was totally under his domination.

I shook my head, moaning.

He watched me, as his fingers went faster, deeper. But he watched me coldly, like I was a science experiment, while I burned and fought to keep my emotions hidden. But however much I tried, I could not contain my breathless moaning.

'Am I hurting you, love?' He asked, his eyes ever intent, always reading my face, as he continued to tease me, deep within me.

'No.' I moaned. I looked away in shame. How could I feel this way? He had me in his power and I was reveling in it.

'Look at me. I want to see your eyes. Your lovely eyes, Nina.'

My eyes found his, and I saw cold victory in his. And I gloried in it. We stared at each other, recognising each other. He was Master, I was Slave. But I could not face the truth without shame. So I closed my eyes.

'Nina.' Slam. Slam. Slam. His palm slapped against my clitoris, driving me up against the wall each time he plunged in. It felt like three fingers now, he was stretching me wide and touching nerve endings that were catching fire. Then slow light massages, then deep plunges in quick succession. My breasts shook. I felt every thrust so keenly, as he brought me so successfully towards a climax. I prepared for it, my body clenched. But then he slowed.

'No,' I cried, agonised, my voice guttural. 'Finish it. Richard!'

Then he stopped altogether and I could have screamed, was I not so determined to control my reactions.

He slipped his fingers out and wiped them on my panties. He massaged my panties against my wetness, and I felt the oozing slipperiness of the friction. I squirmed, pressing against his rock hard erection.

'What are you waiting for, Richard?' I asked, fierce with a frustration I was loathe to admit. 'Let's get this over and done with!' I struggled to push myself away from the wall.

'That's what you want, isn't it?' He murmured wryly, as his eyes roamed my face. 'But that's not what you're here for. Remember, you're here for whatever I want, Nina.' His eyes hooded as he looked down at my breasts still hidden in my bra. I could feel the clench of his fingers around my wrists and dimly had the idea that he could break both of them without even trying.

'What game are you playing?' I hissed at him, trying to close my legs against his knees.

He laughed low, and maintained a firmer stance. Still staring at my breasts, he massaged first one and then the other, pulling at my nipples. He cupped each of them, releasing them from my bra. He flicked one of them, and then the other.

'I've been wanting to do this all day, Nina,' he murmured as he lowered my arms. 'I've watched you lead the others on – Sam, Mike, and even old Mr Bentley. I've seen how you let them touch you, be close to you since Monday, while all I could do was watch.'

He reached into his pocket for his white handkerchief. To my shock, he deftly arranged my hands behind me and tied my wrists securely with his hanky. My heart racketed up a notch.

'I don't know what you're talking about. I don't lead anybody around.'

He returned his attention to my breasts.

'Oh, but you do, my dear. Don't tell me you don't know what you do to everyone here. Smiling at a man like he was the most important person in the world to you.' He traced circles around my nipples. 'You always gave me that feeling, Nina. That I was special to you. But then I realised you smiled at everyone that way.'

He bent down and pulled my breasts to his lips. He suckled my nipples, taking them in as much as his mouth could suck in. I arched my back and mewled at the sensation.

My head was whirling around, partly of my growing hunger, and partly because of the discovery that here he was, Richard, of all people, was fulfilling a fantasy of mine, to be dominated by a man, to be used for his pleasure. A play thing. A fantasy so secret I had never ever told anyone before, not to Hardy, not even to my best friend.

'Please, Richard.' I whispered, pleading for something I wasn't sure of myself. His hand pulled at my ponytail again, turning it this way and that, giving him access to all the sensitised parts of my neck. I whimpered.

'Up here, Nina, you call me Mr Hunt. There is no Richard here for you. I am not your friend or even your employer, I am your master and you.. are... my...slave.' He gave me a particularly harsh bite on my shoulder. I cried out. But he bit harder, emphasising each bite with words which were meant to mortify me: 'My. Office. Slut.' Tears of pain and humiliation sprang to my eyes.

'Please,' I was going to tell him to stop, but the pain had zinged a straight path to my wet center, making it swell and replaced by a craving so strong, an incredible lust.

He sucked at a particularly sensitive spot under my ear. I bucked against him. 'Please. . .'

'Please, what, Nina,' he murmured, while sucking on my earlobe. ''Please fuck me to high heaven, Mr Hunt? Is that what you want to say, Nina? ' I flinched at his language.

'All in fucking good time, my dear.' He sucked on the skin behind my ear. I cringed, not at the words but at the fact that he was using them. I could never imagine Richard Hunt speaking this way. He had always been courteous to me and everyone around him.

'Please, Mr Hunt, stop!' I pleaded. But I knew I could not win this battle. It was a battle for my will, a battle I had already lost.

'No,' he growled. 'I'm not going to stop, Nina. And you talk too much.'

He turned me all of a sudden and stood me against the back of a single sofa.

He was behind me, pressing the front of my thighs against the back of the couch, so my upper body was forced forward. In another instant, he gagged me with what I felt to be another handkerchief.

I moaned in protest and struggled, but his body pinned me tighter to the back of the couch.

His callused hands stripped my bra down my stomach and squeezed my breasts. From behind, he was tall enough that he could look down at where his hands were. His hands weighed my breasts, and squeezed them this way and that way, as though he could not get enough of them.

Then he stepped down and dragged my panties down. I had my thighs tight together, but he prised them apart, lifting me, and kicking my panties aside and pushing me over the couch. At the front I felt the rough upholstery against my bare stomach. At my back, I felt the coolness of the air. Because of my bound arms, I could not purchase any balance, and fell forward onto the seat of the couch.

He grappled with my legs. I felt his hands grasp my inner thighs and pulled them wider still and pressed his hip against my them. His erection through his trousers was impossibly long and hard. Holding me down that way, he leaned over and gently released my hair from its pony tail, and my black hair surrounded my face obscuring what little light there was in the room. Then he began his exploration of my back, caressing my bare spine, the curve of my waist and my bottom.

He pulled at my hips and thighs, setting me up for what was next. I heard his zipper being managed down. One more second, and his cock entered me in one swift shove and I groaned in my gag.

'Nina.' He said, again and again. 'Nina. Nina.'

He was so large, and long. I squirmed to adjust to his sudden invasion. He gave me that, at least. He shifted until he was sure I was comfortable with his entry. He held himself relaxed for awhile, only gently moving, rotating slowly, as though feeling me inside. He continually stroked me like I was a horse, gentling my skittishness.

Then the gentleness disappeared as he started fucking me hard, sliding into me back and forth like an automated pleasure tool. Oh. I could hear the wetness of my walls urging him on. My internal walls clutched at him each time he passed, my pussy crying in her delight while my mind slowing floated into a mindless euphoria born out of pleasure and hunger.

His fucking pressed me heavily forward, back down on the seat, my face rubbing on the couch seat with an age old rhythm. I could feel the roughness of the upholstery on my cheek, could smell the fabric shampoo. The couch, like me, jerked with his force. My eyes were mostly shut but when I did open it was to see nothing but the darkness that was my hair, bouncing to his rhythm. My bound wrists ensured I was totally helpless, my body shaking to his dance.

He pleasured me that way with long, hard strokes. His hands held my hips wide and still for his pounding exercise. A delight I could not help built like a storm, as he totally broke through any of my reluctance. And I came with a scream the same time that he groaned. He gripped my hips forcefully as he slammed into me one last time and flooded me with his juices.

I did not get to indulge in the aftermath of my exhilarating release, as blackness roared through me.

I cried out in my gag, my voice rising in my fright. He pulled me from the couch, and stood me before him. 'Nina? Oh, shit.' I fainted then.

The next thing I knew, he was putting my clothes expertly back on with very little help from me. I slipped in and out of consciousness, but I was aware he brought me home. Mariella was there opening the door, scolding him to high heaven. I don't know how I got into my own bed. But sometime later, I was aware of my husband Hardy's sleeping warmth behind me, his arm resting on my hip. I think he might have kissed me, but then I must have been dreaming. I went back to sleep again.

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This is an excerpt from a novella that will soon be uploaded into the novella section. Please comment and tell me what you think.