The Storeroom Interlude

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sub visits Dom at work.
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He glanced at his clock when he saw her knocking on the door. He had told her to be there at eight; it was 7:57. He chuckled to himself, then turned and headed the opposite way. It was cold outside, but not too cold, and she could last another few minutes. He would pretend that he hadn't seen or heard her, arguing she was late, and that would jump start the morning.

He heard her knock harder, but he kept up a steady gait as he walked to the back of the store. At 8:03 he headed back to the front, feigning innocence as he opened the door. She shook off the snow and the cold, glaring at him through her eyelashes.

"What time did I tell you to get here?" he asked her, his voice firm.

"Eight o'clock."

He held his watch in front of her face. "What time is it?"

She sighed. "Three minutes past eight."

"So that makes you?"

"Late." The word came out from between clenched teeth. She knew exactly what he was doing, but part of her enjoyed it thoroughly. The other part of her, of course, was pissed as hell.

He made sure the door was locked behind her, then grabbed her hand to lead her through the aisles. He dragged her through the store to the back, pulling her through a door marked "Employees Only." Once through this door, he reached up and tangled a hand in her hair, pulling her roughly along behind him as he headed downstairs into the basement.

Downstairs was dark and cool. It was obviously a storage room, filled to the brimming with boxes and racks of overstock. In the far corner, hidden away, was a desk. They came to a stop a few feet away from it. "Undress." The command was short, but the power and tone behind the words didn't allow for any argument. She quickly shed her clothing; he delighted in the way her nipples hardened from the cold. As she took off her pants, he reached out and caught hold of her left breast. He pinched her nipple between two fingers and twisted the nub harshly, his cock hardening as she gasped.

"Bend over the desk." As she did so, he put one large, beefy hand on the center of her back, effectively holding her down. "How many minutes late were you?"

I was three minutes early fucker, she thought. But what she said was "Three minutes, Sir."

"And how many seconds are in a minute?" he asked.

"60 seconds."

"And three times sixty?"

She wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "180 seconds."

"Oh, good girl," he said, patting her on the ass. "I'll take off five seconds because you did the math so well. But that means you're still going to get 175 smacks. Right on your ass, as hard as I can." His voice was full of fake sweetness, making him sound oh so condescending.

She felt him pull away for a second, and she braced herself. His hand came down, full strength, a moment later, and she shoved the heel of her palm into her mouth. Whimpering, she endured thirty or forty smacks before the tears started. He seemed to gain energy as she started crying, her moans and sobs muffled by her hands.

She lost count after about 75, all her concentration needed just to remain upright. He kept going and going, and she finally started shrieking, begging for him to stop. "Please, please! I'm sorry. I won't ever be late again! Please! Stop!"

Finally, his hand stopped coming down on her ass. He lifted his other hand off of her back, and she fell to her knees in front of the desk. Her legs felt like rubber and wouldn't support her anymore. He moved around to sit in the chair to her left, and without being told to, she moved to kneel in front of him. Her cries always made his cock hard. He loved hearing her scream.

"That's my good girl," he said as she swallowed his cock, taking the entire length into her mouth in one slow movement. He patted her head like he would a faithful puppy. "Go slow. I want to feel your throat on my cock."

She moaned in agreement, delighting in the sensation of his dick opening up her throat, filling her mouth. Her ass burned terribly, and she unconsciously reached around the rub it. He growled. "Leave your fucking ass alone."

He grabbed her head, tangling his hand in her hair again. Using his hold as leverage, he began fucking her face roughly, shoving his cock farther down her throat until she felt like it was going to rip through the back of her neck. He kept trying to push her face deeper into his groin; in moments she would be swallowing his balls as well. She gagged.

"Fucking bitch," he said, pulling away from her. She gasped, trying desperately to regain her breath. "Stand up," he said, grabbing her arm in a bruising hold. "Turn the fuck around, cunt, and bend over the desk again."

She did as she was told, though she was terrified that she was going to be spanked again. If he went after her ass anymore, she might pass out. But she heard him rummaging through something, then heard him tearing open a condom. She braced herself against the desk, opening her legs as wide as possible.

He grabbed her hair again, pulling up her to smack against his chest. With his other hand, he guided his cock into her pussy, fucking her hard with long strokes designed to drive them both to the edge quickly. Her hands went wild, flying out to her sides as she started cumming hard around his cock.

"Oh my," he said, trying to sound surprised despite the fact that he was panting just as hard as she was. "You've already cum?" He pulled out, pausing for a moment to regain some of his energy. She heard him breathe in and out deeply, though she could tell he was trying to keep the fact from her. It had been a while since they had been together; she knew he had had a hell of a time not cumming in her mouth.

"Do you need a break?" she asked coyly, wiggling her ass. She knew that it would piss him off, her suggesting such a thing, and part of her winced when the words slipped out of her mouth. Ah well, she thought. What's the worst that could happen?

He grabbed her hair roughly, yanking her upright. His breath was hot in her ear. "WHAT?" he growled, yanking her head back. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?"

Oh shit, she thought. Maybe she had gone too far. "Nothing."

"Oh, I don't think so, you stupid cunt. Do I need a break? DO I NEED A BREAK?" She could hear it in his voice; he was really pissed now. This was no act.

He threw her down onto the floor. She whimpered loudly as her knees hit the rough concrete. "DON'T FUCKING MOVE. Do you hear me? DO NOT FUCKING MOVE."

He shoved his still-sheathed cock into his pants, zipping up as he went up the stairs. She wondered where he was going, and more importantly, what he was going to get when he got there. It was a few minutes before he returned, and she gasped.

In his hand was a cane. It wasn't long or overly thin (or overly thick); it was the perfect size for laying down bruising marks and huge welts. She cowered at the sight. He only used the cane as punishment or when he was feeling extremely sadistic. All it took was one or two strokes to get her crying; three or four strokes would make her scream in pain and beg for him to stop.

Just seeing her, the look of fear in her eyes, the way she backed up, tried to melt into the desk, it made his cock harden back up. She had stepped too far, and she was going to pay for it. He did feel a little guilty that he was going to enjoy it, but just a little.

"Oh, please, please... no... please. I'll do anything else. Please, not that," she whimpered, putting her hands up to him, pleading with her entire body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't cane me."

He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. "Shut the fuck up cunt," he said as he threw her down against the desk. "If you move, I'll only tie you down. You're not getting out of this. I don't care how much you cry or beg or scream. Do you understand me?" He saw her legs trembling, and he reached down to readjust his cock in his pants. Damn, but she was making him hard. He could almost imagine how she looked, biting her lower lip in anxious wait, trying hard not to cry.

"Yes Sir," she said, her voice quivering.

He began running the cane over her ass, delighting in the shivers that the sensation created in her body. "Do I need a break? Hmmm... that is five syllables. Thirteen letters. What's thirteen times five cunt?"

"Oh, no... that's too much. Please!"

He reached out and slapped her ass hard with his hand. "That wasn't my question, you stupid whore. Can't you do the fucking math?"

"Sixty-five," she whimpered. "Please! I can't take that many!"

"It took you long enough to get that. Maybe I should add on a few for being so stupid. How about one hundred? That's a nice, even number."

"No! Please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, no!"

He could hear that the tears had started already, and all he was doing was talking about how many strokes she would get. He let his cock out of his pants and stroked it as he watched her body shiver with fear. "Last time, you fucking slut. Shut up."

He continued to slide the cane over her ass, moving it back and forth across her skin. Every so often he would bring the cane up, pulling it back like he was going to strike, and then lay it down gently to slide it back and forth again. He delighted in hearing the sudden intake of breath as she prepared herself for the strike.

It was maybe the fifth or sixth time that he pulled the cane back that he didn't hear her gasp, and he knew she wasn't expecting him to swing full force and make contact.

So that is exactly what he did. He pulled the cane back swiftly, then quickly came back downward, making contact with both sides of her ass. She screamed, and nothing was there to muffle it.

"PLEASE!!!" Her crying was worse now; her body was shaking. He lifted the cane up again, brought it down swiftly again, left another track in her ass. She screamed again, one leg coming up as the pain wracked her body.

He gave her ten good swats with the cane, leaving ten excellent train track lines—ones that would become welts in due time. By the end of ten she was sobbing and begging, trying in vain to keep him from coming down on her again.

It was all too much for him. He dropped the cane and plunged back into her pussy with one stroke, bottoming out and feeling his balls hit her clit. He fucked her savagely, and within a few strokes, he felt her responding. The pleasure of being fucked was soothing her; he could feel her pussy twitching around his cock. He tried to hold out, but it became too much. After only a few minutes, he came hard, clutching her hips and grinding his groin into her ass. He reached underneath her to play with her clit, and it took only seconds for her to follow his lead. She came, her muscles clenching around his cock.

He remained inside of her until his cock started to soften, plopping out on its own. He moved back and found the chair, sitting down. She was now exhausted, and without him to support her, she fell to the ground in a heap. Her breath was tearing in and out of her lungs as she lay on the cold concrete floor.

He watched her as he got his breath back, delighting in the way her tits rose and fell as she gasped for air. She rolled onto her stomach, her ass coming into view. He could see welts and bruises were already forming, and his dick started to stand up again. Damn, he thought, looking down at his watch. It was almost nine; his colleagues would be arriving in a few minutes. He didn't have time to enjoy her again now.

"Slut, you need to get dressed. Now."

With her exhaustion showing in her eyes, she got up and got dressed. He stood up so that she could sit down, and now fully dressed, she collapsed gratefully. She winced when her ass hit the seat. He bent down and kissed her forehead, chuckling. "Go get a room and get some rest. I'll be there at six."

"Yes Sir," she replied, taking a deep breath and collecting her strength. She got up on shaky legs and followed him upstairs, moving much slower than he did. She chuckled as she saw him clean everything up, making sure no evidence of this morning's fun was left behind. He handed her the cane. "Take that with you to the room." He went to move away, then had a thought and grabbed her chin. "It better be there and in one place when I arrive."

She sighed. "Yes Sir."

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