Secretaries in Bondage

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DrSqueaky
DrSqueaky
537 Followers

"There you go," Morris said approvingly, "now give her what she deserves, the dirty slut. You know she wants it!"

I was not used to this rough stuff, but my dick was still so hard from having been THIS close to cumming in Shana's mouth that sheer lust took over. I nailed her with such lust that I swear the deck chair lifted off the ground on the up-strokes. She loved it—the pale skin of her neck and above her breasts flushed pink with excitement.

I was fucking her like a madman when I became cognizant of Morris standing closer to me than he had been. I looked his direction; now that he had my attention, he handed me a tube of lubricant. "You might like to know that Shana loves it up the ass—even more than Ellen does."

I glanced down at Shana below me; her face was a combination of slight embarrassment with a variation of that earlier look of invitation. She had a look like a little girl that had been caught doing something very, very naughty, and the only way out the tight spot she was now in was to do it again.All right...I'm game, I thought. I wasn't sure just how to go about lubing her butthole...then realized I didn't have to.

"Shana!" I ordered, holding out the tube "lube your ass!" She sat up for a moment to take the tube, poured out a generous amount, then positioned her legs on the chair so that she could lift her butt. She then worked the lube around her butt crack, then pressed first one finger and then two into the tight hole.

"Are you gonna flip her around?" Morris asked. He had retreated to Kitty's side; I noticed she her hand was inside her pants, masturbating, and Morris had his hand slipped under the halter and was playing with her tits.

"Shana! Grab your ankles!" I commanded. She immediately pulled her hand out of her own butt and grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs wide. "I really prefer them sunny-side up," I commented to Morris as I repositioned myself between her thighs. Then I helped her roll her legs up a bit more than she had them, curling her spine and thus making her ass more accessible. I lined up the shot and sank it—I was hard as an iron rod, and thanks to the lube even the tightness of her sphincter could not deter my penetration. I made a few tentative strokes, feeling my way around, plumbing the depths you might say, before once again letting it rip.

Shana's breathing became labored as her excitement grew. I was about as excited as I could get already, fucking the ass of this beautiful redhead. I slowed for a second, pulling back to watch my dick disappearing into her butthole. My attention was diverted by her pussy, however, which had gone from a delicate pink to and almost angry red as her excitement increased. It was sitting there, dripping wet and gaping, but unused. It seemed a damn shame, so I decided to do something about it. I moved my hands to her the bottom of her thighs, then thrust each thumb out towards the middle. The met up right on either side of the clit. Pushing gently, I had her clit lightly pinched between my thumbs. Now when I went back to fucking her ass full tilt, I simultaneously twitched my thumbs back and forth on her clit. Shana was going fucking nuts, and I loved it. She let go of her ankles, but I didn't mind. She put her feet on the armrests of the deck chair and held her ass up to better accommodate my penetrating. I saw her gulp, roll her head, close her eyes. She was fighting to not make noise, but a few squeaks escaped. I've never been so turned on in my life.

Goddammit, you hot little slut, you are GONNA cum, I thought. I was just about there myself, but held off by concentrating on my thumbs working her clit. "Come on, you little slut, cum! Cum for me!" I growled, still relentlessly pounding her ass. Shana looked at me with eyes as big as saucers. She swallowed hard once, and then a few seconds later her thighs locked up, lifting her torso even higher off the chair. With an "ungghhhhh," her body was rocked by orgasms. My dick could feel the spasms racking her body from its position deep in her colon. The whole chair seemed to shake from the little earthquakes inside her. The glow in her face made her even more beautiful.

"That's right, cum for daddy," I snarled. I was surprising myself with just how into this I was getting. She returned to her previous position to receive my thrusts, but I rolled her over onto her side. I shoved my dick back into her ass, with one hand on her butt cheek and the other cupping a breast. It didn't take very much of that before I was the one tensing up, filling her ass with spurt after orgasmic spurt of semen.

"Shana...cleanup on aisle three!" I heard Morris say from somewhere to my right. Quick as a flash, Shana sat up and tenderly cleaned all of the juices off of my dick with her mouth and her tongue. I became aware of noises to my right, and found they were coming from Kitty, who was standing but bent over, holding on to a different deck chair, shorts now down around her ankles. Morris was standing on a low drink table, putting him at just the right height to plow his wife from behind in her heels. From the angle of his attack, I guessed he was driving the Hershey Highway, too.

I was soft now, spent from my intense orgasm, but Shana dutifully continued to suck me. I'm not sure why, but I couldn't help myself; I grabbed her red hair, pulled her head away from my dick pressed my lips against hers. I thought perhaps she would reject my kiss—maybe because that's what like the girls in the porn videos do, and that was my closest point of reference for what was happening. In reality, fact she kissed back strongly; I guess that if the master wants you kiss him, you kiss him.

I heard Morris grunt, and I knew he must be dumping his load into Kitty's rectum. There were some other deck chairs that were folded up into a sitting position; I let go of Shana and sat in one. For someone that tends to not even like locker rooms, it was strange that I wasn't uncomfortable sitting next to Mr. Bower's pool without any pants on. A few minutes later Morris was sitting in a chair next to me.

"I suppose you're wondering how BBI came to employ these girls," Morris mused. The thought had occurred to me. "It all started with Kitty, and a little misunderstanding. She was looking for a bondage supply store that had a similar name and looked up our address by mistake. We had been looking for an administrative assistant for eight months and had two openings on staff. I happened to be at the front desk when she came in, looking perplexed and mumbling that she had the wrong address. I was recently divorced at the time, and I was all to eager hire a beautiful secretary for the wrong reasons. It depends, I asked, are you looking for investments? Or perhaps a job? She told me that's not why she had come here, but she was in need of a job. I interviewed her right then, and she turned out to be adequately capable and of course she looked like a million dollars, so I hired her." At that point Kitty returned, shorts now back on, carrying two drinks on a tray. "Ahh, thank you Kitty. I hope gin and tonic is all right?"

"That will be fine, thank you," I answered, taking a hearty sip as I was thirsty after all that physical activity. It must have been damn good, expensive gin, because it made my head swim right away but was smooth as butter going down.

"A few months later," Morris continued, "as I became more comfortable with her, I asked her what she had really come here looking for that day. She asked, if I really wanted to know? The way she asked the question, well I started getting a rise right then and didn't even know why. I said sure. Next day she asks to work late. After everyone else but me left, she comes into my office wearing the tiniest skirt I'd ever seen, with slave collar and cuffs. I didn't even know there was an LA bondage scene, or I'd have named the business something else. But I soon learned that Kitty was part of it and that's what she'd been looking for that fine day. At first we just role played, then she wanted me to be her regular master. I relished the part, and within months I married her—but that left me without a secretary again. That's when Kitty suggested she could recruit a replacement from among the girls in the bondage scene if the price was right. I ended up hiring Ellen as her replacement. Word got out that beautiful submissives could get a good job AND the discipline they craved working at Better Bonds. We didn't hire every applicant, of course, but we created positions for those that left a lasting impression. At the moment there are four special assistants, although there have been as many as six."

"Unbelievable," I said, and meant it.

"And yet it's true," Mr. Bower countered. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly two girls appeared, dropped to their knees in front of our chairs, and began trying to arouse our dicks from their naps. Joy was sucking Morris, but having noted my preferences, Shana remained assigned to me. I watched and smiled a little at the lovely redhead again caressing my penis. Briefly, our eyes made contact, and she flashed her eyebrows at me as if to say "That was awesome. You are SO the man. Please do that to me again." But she quickly turned her attention to servicing my member, and Morris continued "So, have you decided what to do with our special assistants?"

"That's not quite so simple," I answered, "you've convinced me of their value, but in order to keep them on staff we'll have to get it past my boss, too. He'll be even harder than I to convince, but I think I know the way to do it. It'll have to be a bit different than this setup. Here's what we do..."

-------------------------

My boss' name is Jack Thurston. Because it's confusing to have two Jacks and just too military to call us Thurston and Edwards, everyone calls me Jack but my boss J.T.

"Hey J.T., it's Jack," I said into the receiver of my crackberry from the offices of BBI the next day.

"Oh, hi Jack, how are things coming at BBI? Have you figured out why their expenses are so high?"

"Some of it, and that's why I've called you, J.T.," I replied. "There are four special advisors on staff here; they make a lot of money, but in talking with Mr. Bower he's got me coming around to thinking that maybe their special talents are worth keeping in spite of their salaries. But it's going to look weird on the balance sheet, so I want you to come out here, meet with them and decide for yourself."

"Meet with them? Can't you just arrange a conference call?" J.T. retorted.

"No, you really should see what they do firsthand," I said evasively, then pulled on the string I knew he couldn't resist. "Plus, you should know it's 30 degrees warmer here than in New York, and Mr. Bower is a member of the Beverly Hills Country Club..."

"All right, all right, you convinced me," he grunted. It was no secret among higher-level managers that you could get J.T. to travel almost anywhere if there was 18 holes waiting for him on the other side. The 4 x 3 = 12 other holes that would be available to him would be a complete surprise. Fortunately, we had spent a lot of time on the road together, and I had a pretty good idea what he liked in that realm as well.

I hung up while J.T.'s secretary worked on arrangements. In the meantime, I went up to the seventh floor, and Mr. Bower's personal office, which he had been nice enough to lend me a key for. When I had passed the front desk on the way in that morning, Cherie had passed me a note. In it was a hand-drawing of a woman that looked a lot like her bent over a conference table and getting reamed by a guy that looked a little like me. I decided to take her up on it.

----------------

Three days later Mr. Bower and I were both at the airport to meet J.T. when he arrived. I made the introductions and walked with them to Mr. Bowers' Rolls, but after making sure everything was loaded I left them to go play golf. I would hail a cab and head out to the Bower Mansion.

"You're not coming along?" J.T. asked.

"No, you know I'm not big on golf J.T.," I answered. "I'll see you at Mr. Bower's house later, and you can meet the special assistants."

I went to the mansion, knowing I'd have about six hours before they'd be back. I swum a bit and lay out by the pool, naked, next to an equally naked Kitty. She was amazingly hot, but I left her alone. I didn't think I should fuck Mrs. Bower with Mr. Bower being here to give permission. Besides, I'd have plenty of chances to get my rocks off before the day was out.

The other girls arrived about three hours before I expected J.T.'s return. I carefully instructed them in the choreography of the scenario I thought would be too much for J.T. resist. With extra time to kill, I then dumped a load between Shana's legs and another up Ellen's ass.

I was sitting in the huge sunken living room when we heard the front door open and two voices in the distance. Kitty quickly got up to intercept them—she was wearing a tiny black leather miniskirt, a black leather bra, and knee-high bondage boots.

"Hi honey," I heard her say, not in her flat, slave-taking-orders voice but like any wife might welcome her husband home if she was glad to see him.

"Hi sweetie...J.T., this is my wife, Kitty" I heard Morris say. I had to fight to keep from busting out laughing as I imagined him standing there, mouth open and unable to speak as I had been when first meeting Mrs. Bower.

"Kitty darling, would you get us some drinks while we talk?" I heard.

"Yes dear." I heard the clicking of her boots fade in the distance, while Morris and J.T. now appeared in view around a corner. I was sitting on the far left side of the couch, shuffling papers. Looking up, nonplussed, I asked "So how was golf?"

"Great," Morris said equally nonchalantly, "your boss is quite a player." J.T.'s eyes were big like deer in headlights; he was trying to mouth something about Kitty, but I continued to act as if this were completely ordinary.

"Here, come look at this," I said, picking up the papers next to me and opening the middle seat for J.T., "it's the personnel papers on the special assistants. Head still somewhat swimming, he sat next to me, as we had hoped he would, and Morris bookended him on the couch.

He started to look at the first file when the clicking sound returned, and Kitty returned with a tray of drinks. As she passed them out, I commented "the papers don't really tell the story, though. You really need to meet them; they're down in the west wing, but let me see if any of them can hear us. JOY? ELLEN? CHERIE?" I shouted.

That was Cherie's cue. We heard her heels clicking on the marble floors in the distance. Gradually she appeared. She was dressed much as when I had first seen her—in a colorful business suit with a skirt that was north of appropriate but south of scandalous, bare tan legs, pumps. Her look was actually pretty common in L.A. Morris was telling J.T. about her, while I was doing my best to secretively watch his reactions. I saw him raise one eyebrow slightly and his eyes ran up and down the length of her legs, but there wasn't anything particularly unusual about her—yet.

"Did you see any of the others?" Morris asked.

"Yes, I saw Ellen, she was just coming in from the pool. I can go get her." Cherie answered.

"Please do," he replied. We all took long hits on our cocktails as the sound of her heels receded in the distance. J.T. gave me a quick eyebrow-nod, guy-code for "did you see that?" I pretended not to notice the sign—I knew he hadn't seen anything yet.

The sound of Cherie's heels now got louder again as she came with Ellen. Ellen looked like she had just come in from the pool—her curly brown hair was damp, and she wore a half-shirt over a bikini top that was still wet. Consequently, the half-shirt stuck to the wet bikini, producing a result reminiscent of a wet t-shirt contest, except that there were too many layers of fabric to clearly make out the outline of her nipples. She also wore Daisy Duke shorts and flip-flops, displaying her mile-long legs. Her tan, toned belly provided stark contrast to the silver ring in her navel.

Ellen came forward, apologizing about just coming in from the pool, while Cherie lingered behind and nonchalantly pulled up next to Kitty, who was standing off to the side. Morris started talking about Ellen's strengths—I had to hand it to the old man, he could bullshit with the best of them. But as he pratted on, the real show was just beginning. Kitty silently began to rub Cherie's back, then played with her hair. Suddenly, Kitty began kissing her, and in no time the two were exchanging tongues.

J.T. had been staring at various aspects of Ellen's tan, but eventually he noticed Kitty and Cherie out of the corner of his eye. He did a double-take, looked at Morris, who was pretending to be oblivious, and elbowed me in the ribs. I looked up, and he nodded with his head in their direction to call my attention to them. I made a point to look in their direction, then smile politely and nod like this sort of thing happened all the time, and went back to my papers.

Kitty meanwhile had just about finished unbuttoning Cherie's blouse and was sticking her hand underneath, obviously feeling her breasts. Cherie, in turn, was reaching for Kitty's crotch under her micro-mini. J.T. turned back to look, the forced himself to turn away lest he draw attention to it. He looked at Morris again, who continued bullshitting, to see if he saw what was happening. Then he turned to me, but I was pretending to be engrossed in paperwork. He thought he was the only one seeing this happening—he had no idea that this entire scene had been carefully choreographed. Kitty had both her hands under Cherie's jacket now, and Cherie had her finger under Kitty's skirt. J.T. and I had been on a lot of business trips together and consequently at least a few gentlemen's clubs. One of the two things I knew he seemed to like based on those experiences was girl-girl action, and so in spite of himself he couldn't stop watching the two girls lez out.

Just then Joy burst in, as planned. She was in fact coming in from the pool, still wet, wearing a bikini and a too-small towel wrapped around her waist.

"Oh, Joy," Mr. Bower called her over, "come here and meet Mr. Thurston."

"But I just came in from the pool..." she protested.

"It's all right, you can dry off in a minute. Just come over here and say hi," he coaxed.

She played the shy Asian very well, pretending to be embarrassed by her state of undress. Since the first time I'd met her she had her legs tied open and dildo in her cunt, her embarrassment was all acted. Morris began to bullshit about Joy. Ellen, no longer center stage, wandered over to Kitty and Cherie. J.T.'s attention was diverted to Joy for a second, but when he peeked back over in the girls direction, Ellen had joined them. Kitty's leather bikini top had been loosened, and Cherie and Ellen each had a hand groping one of her breasts. At the same time, Kitty's one hand was still in Cherie's blouse, while the other was rubbing her crotch through her shorts.

J.T. elbowed me again, hard. He nodded in the girls direction, more insistently, frowning. I looked over again, then shrugged nonchalantly. But J.T. was looking at me funny now—it was not the Jack he knew that would be unphased by this display.

"You know J.T.," I began, "Mr. Bower has been in this business a long time, and he knows an awful lot of ins and outs in great detail. I've already learned a great deal about municipal bond trading. And other things too—you know, sometimes it's right there in front of you, and yet you still can't see it until someone points it out. Take sexual harassment, for instance—I was always taught that it's a real general thing and almost anything can get you in trouble. In fact, it's a very precisely defined thing. To be harassment, one of two conditions must be met. One, advances of a sexual nature must be unwanted, persistent, and the individual involved must be given warning of their unwanted nature."

DrSqueaky
DrSqueaky
537 Followers