April's Vulgar Arousal

For the next month Milton and April continued their wild affair but kept it private from anyone at work. Milton continued to make direct demands upon April and April carried out the tasks happily. April didn't understand the changes that were going on inside of her. She just knew she was blissfully happy. She was a domineering powerhouse in the business world, and a wonton submissive in her private life, though she didn't know it. Milton ordered her food at restaurants. He chose where and when they went places. He was completely dominating in the bedroom. He picked out her clothes. But throughout all of this April never once thought about a formal Dominant/submissive lifestyle. She didn't realize that was what she was leading. She just knew she melted in Milton's arms and she wanted nothing more than to please him.

Finally one day Milton brought the subject up. He reminded April of his behaviors, his pinches, his bites, his control over every situation. He had to tell her she was submissive. April stormed out. To her, there was no way she was submissive. She was powerful, successful, rich. She would never lie down before a man. Men lay down before her. She got into her car and drove home. That night she had a dream. She was impaled by a tree from her ass through, twisting and turning through her insides, through her throat and out her mouth. She couldn't move off the tree, only turn around on it. The tree had vines growing on it and they filled her stomach, warming her, soothing her, making her feel special. She came and squirted in her sleep. The convulsions woke her up while they were still going on, the dream still fresh in her mind. She got up and chugged a glass of water. She had to clean off the bed. She scrubbed furiously. She felt she had to shake these feelings from herself, this infatuation with her Milton. She thought he saw her as subservient. She didn't want a man like that.

In the office things went along as normal. April began receiving orders from her direct superior, a man on the board of directors, and stopped receiving them entirely from Milton. April regained full control over her entire life and she was relieved to have things that way. But there was a hole in the pit of her stomach. Something still didn't feel quite right. Out of curiosity, on a Friday night, April looked up Dominance and submission on the internet. She came across the Dominant's and submissive's prayers. She was taken by the romance of it all. She felt that warmth in her stomach again. Then April looked at a lot of porn. She viewed it as educational. She watched porn all weekend. On Monday she asked to see Milton. Milton eagerly agreed to see her. April straightened herself up and walked into his office. Milton put his feet up on his desk and his hands behind his head. He gestured at her to speak.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About my being submissive. I had this dream. And I think you were right. I want us to be together," April said, dropping her head down. Milton uncrossed his ankles and stood up. He walked over to April and grabbed her head. He kissed her, pressing her head more deeply into his mouth, groping her frantically from her ass to her shoulders, from her hips to her breasts. He turned her around and bent her over his desk. April anticipated the moment when he would pull the hem of her skirt up over her hips and fuck her. But that moment never came. Instead Milton clapped April hard on the rear. Only then did he pull the hem of her skirt up over her hips, but she knew he was not going to fuck her. He smacked her hard again. April shot forward on the desk.

"That was for not trusting in what I have to say to you," he said and smacked her again. "And that was for leaving me." He slapped her in his office again and again. If April cried out, she only got smacked harder so she took her beating in silence, tears streamed down her face. Finally Milton relented.

"You can clean yourself up in my bathroom here. Behind the ivy wall," he told her, straightening up his tie. She obeyed and left his office. By the end of the week they had weekend dinner plans. April was exceptionally open to Milton throughout the dinner. They discussed Dominance and submission. She shared that being submissive made her feel wanted and cared for. Milton listened intently. He felt she understood him, because to be dominant, you have to apply a great deal of care. Milton and April went on a series of dinner dates all of which contained conversation about this one single topic, Milton educating April, and April sharing her feelings with Milton, and none of which led to any sex. Finally, on their fifth date Milton asked April how she felt about gear.

"Gear?" she asked. After which Milton went on a long, educational, and sexy monologue about all the things one can do with gear. "I think I'd like to try that sometime," April said smiling as she chewed her rare steak and vegetables. Milton had allowed her the pleasure of red meat that night. Milton immediately asked for the bill. He shoved her into his bedroom wall. He kissed her deeply and she kissed him back. He ran his hands all over her body and through her hair. She slowly slipped her hands down from his lower back to his ass. It was so full, so muscular, she thought. Milton pulled away from April abruptly and walked her to his bed. He positioned her sitting on it and went into his large, walk-in closet and turned on the lights. He came out with some short leather straps, a blindfold, and a crop.

April was wearing a red sweater dress with slightly ruffled sleeved and a v-cut neckline. It was rather short and she wore it with a thick red belt with a single thin black stripe around the middle of it. And those highest of heels. After Milton had administered the spanking in his office he sent April a message asking her to completely stop wearing panties. Although their dates didn't end in sex, Milton always checked to see if April had completed her assignment, either visually or otherwise. This dress was particularly nice on a girl who wasn't wearing any panties, he thought. He rolled her onto her belly and dropped the items on the corner of the bed. He cuffed each wrist and each ankle, clipping her right wrist to her right ankle, behind her back, and left to left.

He forced his broad shoulders in between her legs and held himself up on the bed by his arms. April was reminded of her rape. She became more relaxed. Her legs opened up further. Milton unzipped his zipper, pulled out his cock, and shoved it into April's pussy. April was overwhelmed with emotion. Milton stopped fucking her and leaned into her because he heard her muttering. He saw she was bawling.

"What are you saying?" he asked. Her muttering grew louder.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me!" Milton began pumping into April as hard as he could until he came. He pulled out of her and a trail of cum followed his dick down her slit. He unbuckled her restraints and kissed each joint. April sighed and heaved. He lay down next to her. She didn't speak, she only curled up in his arms and fell asleep. Milton didn't know why but he was so taken with April, she seemed so sincere, he had to have her. In the early stages of their relationship he was romantic. He wined and dined her. He kissed her passionately and he kissed her sweetly. He pushed her, but never over the edge and she was always grateful for the push. He was sensitive to her needs and limitations. But as time passed, April got to know Milton better. She was eager to please him and became hyper attuned to his needs. She knew how his meetings went by the way he dropped his keys on the front room table. She knew he was worrying about personnel files by the way he slouched at dinner. She knew he worried about finances by the way he unbuttoned his shirt.

Milton had two sides to his personality. There was a duality that April did not recognize at first. He put April up on a pedestal at first. He took her to Greece, to the finest hotel. He kissed her and suckled on her, ran his fingers through her hair. He massaged his hands all over her body. But he was a fierce Dom. He had strict rules. April was not to wear underwear of any kind. He managed her finances. He controlled her diet. Only white and green foods for April. White chicken breasts, white fish, egg whites, asparagus, broccoli, salads. He ordered for her at restaurants and April melted in the stringing of his words to the waiter. He was specific. The broccoli was to be steamed, not stir fried. The salad was to have light oil and vinaigrette, not creamy dressing. Dessert was to be fresh fruits or berries with two tablespoons of cream. April relished in these specific directions. She delighted in his control over not only her but over the waiter and the chef. Her heart was like frozen butter in the microwave, melting quickly to liquid on the outsides, completely malleable, but still hard in the center.

There were now two sides to April. Milton had softened her. His assignments led her to foster more positive relationships with her employees, to analyze their work and promote based on merit, to recognize efficiency and industrious new ideas. Milton acted as a mentor. April found herself worrying less if the people in her office hated her and more if they were getting the support they needed from her. But the part of April that was still hard and frozen in the center got to know the other side of Milton's personality. There were times when he lost his temper. Lost control. He punished April for minor infringements. He slapped her. He left her naked and alone. For some time April thought this was normal. This was part of role play. But as time passed, Milton's temper got hotter, his needs more demanding, more specific, more complicated, more psychological. April became overwhelmed and often left his apartment in tears overcome with the feeling that she was never going to be good enough, she would never achieve what Milton wanted of her, she would never curl up in his arms again.

It was after one of these nights, when April went home crying that she began, as any abused woman might, obsessing about all her actions. Had she combed her hair finely enough? Was her makeup flawless? Had she served dinner with the proper balance of respect and gratitude? Had she pleased him in the bedroom? Was she getting fat? Old? She began running the evening's events over and over in her mind, each time going back a little farther. She began to think about the night before. She thought about all the times she had made Milton angry. She remembered the times when he was romantic and sweet. She remembered pining over him as the mysterious "Sir." She remembered the night they met, her rape. She started going over that night's events in her mind. How frightened she was. How she promised to be a good girl. What extreme circumstances those were. How little she knew about role play, but still she was able to please Milton. Now, it seemed, there was nothing she could do to please him.

But the events of her rape continued to run and circle through her mind. Some things just bothered April. Why was she so compliant? Yes, she was afraid, but she was a strong woman. Couldn't she have run? Couldn't she have tried something? Why was she so taken with Milton? She remembered the sense of pride she felt when she could take his huge cock down her throat, up her ass. She remembered how tall and well built he looked all in black, tattoo exposed, as if on purpose. She remembered the strange sense of security that total lack of safety gave her. But they didn't discuss those acts in advance. There was no prior arrangement. There was no safe word. There was no consent. April realized she'd had it all wrong all this time. 'I'm sleeping with my rapist.'

When she came home for that long weekend she was overwhelmed with shame as any rape victim might be, but that feeling was mixed with confused amorousness for one of her rapists and that feeling seemed to mend the deeply personal, internal tear inside of her. Now that amorousness was gone and April was left with nothing but deeply engrained shame. She realized there had been many times in her and Milton's sex life when what they were engaging in was not role play at all but silenced rape. April sobbed. She cried about her abduction, she cried about her misjudgment about Milton, their entire relationship. She wondered if she was truly submissive or just suffering from some kind of psychological damage. She wanted to leave that life behind her. She wanted to heal. His dominance over her was abuse, she thought and she pushed that lifestyle into a dark and obscure crevice of herself. It was associated with Milton. It was wrong.

But April had to endure it just a little bit longer. She had to stay with Milton long enough to discover the identities of the other men who raped her and their female accomplice. April stopped crying and her mind began scheming elaborate plans to sneak into Milton's office and search his files. She tried leaving her purse in an elusive placement and then asking his secretary if she could go in and look for it when he wasn't there. Twice he found it and brought it to her with a kiss. April shuddered once. He seemed to notice. The third time April did this she got into his office and had just enough time to pull her own file and stash it into her purse before Milton walked in. Once again, April had to play the ditz who forgot her purse.

She quickly took the file to her office. 'There's bound to be something in there.' But there was nothing, just her resume, some of her awards, a record of a dispute between her and a colleague. 'Nothing.' Lately, when April felt like she hit a dead end, she went out and talked to Janice. Before Milton, that was something she would never have done, but many of his assignments led her to foster relationships with her staff and coworkers. She went out to Janice's desk and leaned on her counter. Janice obviously was having one of her migraines because her glasses were off and to the side of her and her face was down and in her hand.

"Uh! I just feel like I'm running in circles sometimes," said April.

"I know what you mean," said Janice, picking up her head, putting her glasses back on, April momentarily getting a look at her without her glasses, her eyes, that distinctive eye shadow. She recognized it from the night of her abduction. Janice was the driver. Who would have thought she hid a slender waist under those A-line dresses?

"I actually better keep working," said April, tapping Janice's counter once and going back into her office. Janice seemed nonplussed at the brevity of April's visit. April knew where to look now, she just had to wait until 5:30 when Janice got off and search her office. She called the police station and told them she wanted to report a rape and when should she come in. They told her to come in right away but she said she had one last thing to do. The police told her not to do anything stupid. She explained herself.

After Janice left April began carefully searching her office. Making up excuses in her head, in case she got caught. Making sure to put each file, each paper, each item back in its original position. April searched through the middle drawer in her desk. She searched all along her back wall cabinet files. She stood on a chair and felt to see if there was a file in her coffee cup cabinet. April was fixated on some kind of file when the next day it dawned on her to check Janice's email. She checked her inbox from around the date of her rape, overriding her password, but nothing was there. She looked in the sent box from around the time of her rape, and nothing was there.

Then she remembered something the rapists had said to her. It was about her promotion. She remembered the day it was announced, because it was two days before her birthday. She looked at a number of suspicious emails, but none of them were incriminating. There was one with no subject that was just a link to a coworker, a link to a comic strip on office jobs. There was one titled "get it back" but it was just regarding getting a form back in order to edit an error. Finally April just looked through all the emails from around that time and after five hours she came across one titled "paperclips." It read:

Want to get your power back from her? Man up.

It left a meeting time in the warehouse district. April printed it. She looked several emails later, having searched under the same e-mail addresses and the meeting time of her abduction and place of her rape was mentioned. She printed it all out, closed Janice's email, shut down her computer and finally went to the police office. She was greeted by a Sergeant Duncan Connors.

"But you can just call me Sergeant," he said dawning a friendly smile and a southern accent. 'Georgia, maybe.' "Officer Gains was originally assigned to your case when you called yesterday, but you didn't show up." He smiled at her. "And Officer Gains has since had a family emergency. So I'll be handling your case. Personally." He smiled again. He led her by her wrist through the busy main space, where most of the officers and detectives had their desks, and into his office. He sat her down in front of his desk and leaned against the side of it. There was a single floor lamp on in the room. It was shining just above April's head. April handed the Sergeant the e-mails. He told her to start from the beginning. She spoke of her promotion, the abduction, the tattoo, the eye shadow, the affair.

"The affair isn't going to help you, but I want you to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. If you want to take this to court, and by the looks of it you do, they're going to insult your reputation. But I've seen this kind of thing with women who were kidnapped before. It's called Stockholm Syndrome."

"Wait a minute. I'm not crazy. I don't need to see any shrink," protested April. She wasn't suffering from anything. "I was just confused. The jury will understand."

"Well," it was Georgian, "I'm not your lawyer, but he, or she, is going to tell you the same thing. It's your only bet." Sure enough, April's lawyer recommended she do just that, see a psychiatrist. April gave in and agreed and the psychiatrist testified in court that April had been, indeed, suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. April recounted the events of the rape in detail, straight-faced. She recalled the details she noticed, the blond hair, the aged eyes, the distinctive eye shadow. The tattoo. She described how she came upon the evidence, and how each man had motive to get back at her, each man was up for her promotion, including Milton. But back then he didn't know he'd be C.E.O. in a few days' time, he didn't know the Old Bastard would have a heart attack and die and leave the company to him. She described her mixed and confused feelings the weekend and, really, in the months afterward.

Milton, Janice and the three others were held without bail. The jury charged each of them with either rape or accessory to rape and kidnapping. April took a week off of work. When she got back she got to work hiring a new assistant. The company had a new C.E.O. hired by the board of directors. A week after coming back April entered her office to find a bouquet of roses there, stems cut short, in a short square vase. She read the card. It just said, "The Sergeant," and left his phone number. She dialed it. 'I should at least thank him.' The Sergeant picked up the phone.

"Sergeant Connors? It's April Dowze. I wanted to thank you for the flowers."

"Oh yeah. I really felt bad about what you went through, during the trial. I know that was hard," he said.

"Still, I don't think you send flowers to the ladies in all of your cases," April said, leaning back in her seat, twisting her finger through her hair, a little surprised at herself. His uniform was very cute.