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She wanted to keep her focus on the mysterious stroker, but she also needed to acknowledge the presence she felt in the room. She wasn't so sure she wouldn't have sensed him without the sound that came from his entry. Alex seemed to have an aura about him unlike any man she'd ever been with. It was powerful and commanding, and it made her wonder why he saw himself in a cuckold role with his wife; it seemed such a contradiction to the person she'd encountered in the courtroom. Not to mention the courthouse stairwell.
It didn't matter to her why that was, or how he saw himself in his marriage. She couldn't explain his kinks any more than she could her own. If she cared to take the time and subject herself to some kind of in-depth psychological analysis, the root of her need to be dominated sexually could probably be fleshed out, although she didn't really need that. It was fairly obvious the phrase daddy issues could be easily applied.
She was the only child of an overbearing man who raised her as a tomboy, pushing her to excel, first in athletics and then in what he claimed was a man's world, as a budding attorney. He wanted his daughter to conquer those traditionally testosterone laden landscapes. In many ways she had, more than holding her own when competing against boys in soccer and basketball as a youth co-ed player growing up, dominating against her own gender in both sports in high school, getting a scholarship to play center back on the pitch in college and graduating in the top three percent of her class at law school once her intercollegiate soccer career concluded. She felt she was on a fast track in the law firm that hired her two years before, hopeful of becoming a junior partner before she reached her fourth.
The idea of giving herself to a masculine presence in the bedroom could easily be attributed to her upbringing, but she never dwelled on those kinds of particulars. The mindset of a submissive necessitated relinquishing control, not questioning the logic behind it. The reality was it gave her a sense of purpose and structure, not all that different than the desire to please her father as an adolescent growing up. She craved the attention she'd attribute to being a good girl, even if to achieve it meant subjecting herself to physical and emotional tests of her obedience.
The test of exposing herself like she was in a hotel high-rise window was incredibly exciting. Yet it was what Alex might have in store for her next that was driving her inner desires.
"Good morning, sir," she panted, the trickle from her pussy to her ass making it difficult to keep from squirming.
He appeared in her peripheral vision, standing by the side of the window just out of view.
"Good morning, Kitten. You look like you're enjoying being on display."
"I don't know about that, but I'm pretty sure the guy on the tenth floor across the street is. I think I'm about to make him cum."
"That's unfortunate," he chuckled as he slowly closed the curtains. "The only one you're supposed to make cum is me. You should focus on that, and whether I decide to let you cum in the process."
"Yes sir," she smiled brightly as she finally took her gaze off her perverted admirer and caught Alex's handsome features.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ashley was shaking, her body rippling as she tried to recover. She knew she wouldn't be able to gather her faculties fully; not with the way he was leaving her. She was desperate. Her whines and whimpers for gratification had gone unanswered. It was torture, her body thirsting for its orgasmic zenith, only to be denied time and again.
Yet she expected it. In a perverse way, she would have been disappointed in Alex if he had allowed her to cum so easily. He took what he wanted, and he gave her everything she needed... except that ultimate prize. For someone who admittedly had no experience in a D/s relationship, he had read the connection between them perfectly, playing with her mind as much as her body. To her, their morning together had been perfect, even as she suffered in need of an orgasm.
She'd found it interesting that he'd tied her to the bed; not the idea of it, but the fashion in which he did. Her hips were propped up on three pillows, forcing her into an exaggerated doggie position. He'd meticulously wound the rope around her ankles, having seen the time she'd taken to secure herself to the chair. Spreading her legs wide, her feet pointed toward the corners at the foot of the bed. But he caught her off guard by winding rope around each wrist. She wondered at first if he'd retrieved the key to the handcuffs he'd told her to leave at the front desk. Instead he was binding her arms twice, the ropes a secondary method to go with the metal bracelets.
Using a length of rope, he pulled her arms high over her head behind her back, tying it off to the headboard. The severe angle pinned her head in place against the mattress, and exposed her tits to his devious inclinations. Her nipples were raw from the abuse they'd taken. He seemed to take great pleasure in seeing how much she could handle. They'd been pulled, twisted, pinched, sucked, bitten and flicked. And that was after he'd taken rope and bound them tight, creating a makeshift halter from the bindings.
Her ass was an incredible shade of red. She could feel the heat emanating from it; the stinging blows from his palms still causing her skin to tingle. He'd also taken to slapping the insides of her thighs, as well as directly onto her wet, sloppy cunt. There were a few hickeys and scratches, which were to be expected. What she never would have anticipated was what he'd done to her feet.
She'd admitted to not bringing anything with her other than rope and the handcuffs, and she alluded to his comment about him being able to provide her with what she wanted by being able to improvise. He embraced that concept mostly by manhandling her luscious body. However, he also used some ingenuity.
Once he secured her to the bed, he searched the room, looking for what he could use to help in his quest to prove to her that he was up to the challenge of being a temporary Dom. In the bathroom he found a bar of soap. He located a hair dryer in a drawer that had never been used, the cord still folded up and held together with a thick rubber band. Inspired, he took the band and moved to a closet by the entry. Inside he discovered an iron that was also unused. Taking an identical band off that cord, he returned to the bed.
He used one of the rubber bands, placing it around his thumb and forefinger, holding them wide to make it taut. Putting his hand against her skin, he'd stretch one part of the band as far as he could between letting go the way he would use a slingshot. The result was a painful sting wherever he decided to inflict it.
When he tired of that, he placed a rubber band over each foot, the elastic wrapping her arches and the tops. He opened up the bar of soap, placing it in her mouth, and told her to bite into it and keep it there, warning of what would happen if she let it fall out. Removing a pillowcase, he covered her head, using it as a hood, making it snug by tying it at the neck, which would free up his hands.
Slamming his thickness into her pussy, he fucked her hard and fast, the romp lasting but a few minutes before he emptied his balls into her. That was just a prelude. It was at that point he began abusing her tits and spanking her ass. Yet it was the torture that focused on her feet that sent her reeling.
First, he would tickle them, which had her squirming and squealing. She hated being tickled, her feet especially. That seemed like nothing compared to when he began pulling on the rubber bands, letting them snap back against her tender soles. She was suddenly thankful to have the disgusting taste of the soap on her tongue, that big bar of Dove giving her something to help stifle her screams. She couldn't recall the last time she was brought to tears in such a way, and it had her cunt dripping.
He didn't take advantage of that. Instead he took advantage of her predicament. Once he got hard again, for the first time in his life, he fucked someone in the ass. It didn't take long for him to bury his shaft to his balls, and soon after he was thankful he'd had the clarity to fuck her pussy first. Otherwise he would have cum in less than a minute. As it was, her back hole was so tight he had to concentrate on abusing her body as a distraction to keep from cumming too soon.
A half-hour later she was panting, her back shining from perspiration. Her body was marked in numerous ways; both her lower holes leaking his cum.
He took a quick shower before drying off with a towel and getting dressed. Untying her, she remained in place as she attempted to regain her faculties.
"Roll over," he ordered. She did, flopping off the pillows, her face still covered by the pillowcase. "You have one minute to make yourself cum. If you don't, you won't be allowed again until I say so. Go!"
She scrambled to slip her feet through her handcuffs, only getting one through. But that allowed her access to her pussy. She began frigging herself wildly, desperately trying to climax. He was counting off the seconds left by tens. When he reached ten, he counted down the single digits.
She was close to exploding when he reached five, growling around the soap. Her chest rose, her purple tits engorged by the way they were tied off. He couldn't resist swatting them as a final sadistic act. When he reached one, he told her to stop. She did immediately with a whimper, her orgasm denied. All she needed was another five seconds. Instead she reluctantly slipped her other leg through her bound hands before stretching them over her head to resist the temptation to touch her pussy.
Once she calmed, he gave her his instructions for the rest of her day.
"I want you to get dressed. No shower... dress just like you are. You can brush your teeth and put on fresh makeup, but your hair stays as it is. No deodorant, no perfume. You'll appear before the court smelling like a slut, because you are one. Trust me, I'll be checking to make sure you do as you're told. No cleaning up your ass or your pussy. You can go to the bathroom, but no wiping... even if you have pee running down your thighs, my cum stays were I put it until it drains out of you, and you're not cleaning that up either.
"The rope bra stays on under your blouse. You cannot take it off until you finish in court with Judge Austin. Once I leave, you need to deal with that as quickly as possible. Call Alex's office and ask for Maggie. She'll take care of things from his side. Do you understand?"
She nodded, unwilling to spit out the soap until she was told she could. it thrilled ger that he was referring to himself in the third person; his subtle way of letting her know that he was still her Dom.
"Good. One last thing. There's an envelope for you at the front desk with details on what you are to do in court. Do not read it until five minutes before you go in. If you decide you can't, I'll understand. You'll need to text me your safe word. But if you do that, you will be tested in a much different way the next time we're together. Not as a punishment, but as a reminder that I have expectations of you, and if you can't meet a challenge that doesn't mean we just stop. You're the one that wanted to have yourself pushed. If you can't go in one direction, I'll pull you to another."
Picking up the phone in the room, he called the front desk.
"Hello, this is room 927. You're holding two envelopes for Miss Davenport. Can you have someone bring them to her room? Thanks." He kissed the top of her head before walking to the door. "Make me proud, Kitten. Get yourself together before they come to the door. No covering up though. You're a slut. Be proud of who you really are."
The door closed, and she spit out the soap, feeling it resting against her chin inside the pillowcase covering her head.
"Fuck! That was incredible," she squealed happily. "He's soooooo much better than Isaac was at this!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thursday afternoon, March 21st
"Is he serious!?" Ashley questioned, astonished by what she was reading on the note Alex left for her. There were actually three pieces of paper in the envelope. Two notes, and what equated to a contract of sorts. She read the note to herself thoroughly several times, not believing what was written. Glancing over the contract, she knew he was serious. Because of that, she didn't read the other note. She was told not to, although he would have no way of knowing if she did or not. But she didn't have to. She knew from what the other two said what the third would contain. Folding the papers up, she stuffed them back into envelope and put it in her briefcase.
She was in the courthouse hallway, sitting on the same bench where she'd first met Alex. She felt a connection to him being there on that seat, although some of that undoubtedly had to do with how sore her ass felt against the wooden slats. Her cheeks were still a deep shade of pink from the spanking he'd given her.
Still being in that submissive frame of mind, his request was too much. Picking up her phone, she sent off a pensive text, hoping not to disappoint.
2:07 PM
Yellow?
Alex was strolling with a group of kids through the aquarium, his being two of them. He was one of the chaperones for the field trip, looking after a group of twelve elementary students. While he was having an incredible time, he was also wary about the case being settled properly. Because of that he kept tabs on his phone, checking for texts from Maggie. Instead he got the one from Ashley.
2:08 PM
What's with the question mark? Are you using your safe word?
2:08 PM
I think so
2:08 PM
There's no thinking Kitten. It's yes or no.
2:08 PM
I want to do it, but I think it's too much. I don't want to disappoint you, but you know?
2:08 PM
I would never have you do anything that you feel would put your career in danger. I know the situation well enough to be comfortable asking this of you. But I also understand.
2:08 PM
Do you?
2:08 PM
I do. That's why I gave you an out. If you need it, use it.
2:08 PM
Yellow.
2:08 PM
Understood. Just don't fuck up the settlement.
2:08 PM
I won't.
Ashley sat back and closed her eyes, clutching her phone tightly. It was almost like she was holding his hand, cherishing that connection. She wasn't foolish; she knew he was married and had kids. In a way that made their sexual combination work. They weren't tied to each other, so the actual interaction between them was going to be limited, which she loved.
A lot of what she was experiencing emotionally had to do with what he'd done to her physically. He'd pushed her in ways she could never have fathomed. Because of that she didn't want to do anything that would make him rethink her commitment to what they'd just started for fear that he might end it. The idea of that happening scared her, but not as much as going through with what he suggested, no matter how assured he seemed to be.
"I just can't do it," she said with a resigned sigh.
Across the large hallway, Maggie sat on an identical bench next to Paul, the junior associate she'd snagged to accompany her to the proceedings. He was busy looking over the settlement to make sure he was familiar enough with it in case he had to jump in. It was a waste of his time, as Maggie would be the one directing him if need be. She was far more familiar with what was going on. Unfortunately, she didn't have a law degree.
What she did have was a strange feeling as she stared at the beautiful woman across from her, and it had nothing to do with the unkempt mangle of hair atop her head. She seemed familiar, but she was certain she'd never actually met her.
"Where do I know her from?" she wondered out loud.
"What?" Paul asked.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was talking to myself. I feel like I should know her, but I don't know from where. She looks so familiar to me."
"That's Ashley Davenport. She's the counsel for Roger Patterson," he said, holding up the papers in his hand. "Frankly, I'm a bit surprised she's going for all of this. I've gone up against her a couple of times. Pardon my language, but she's a real ball-buster. I know she handed me mine the first couple of times I went up against her."
"You obviously don't know your boss very well then. Mr. Edwards is a pit bull in court. I don't care how good she is, she didn't stand a chance."
"Apparently not if this agreement is real. I only hope she doesn't try and pull anything because he's not here today."
"It'll be fine, Paul. There's nothing to worry about."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maggie had a flash of panic wash over her. Everything had been going perfectly. Almost too perfectly. But the sudden request by opposing counsel wasn't something either she or Paul saw coming. She didn't know what to make of it. Worse, there was nothing she could do about it. The pit in her stomach when the judge granted it was real... and deep.
"Is there something to worry about now?" he whispered.
"Maybe," she swallowed.
Up to that moment everything had gone according to plan. She and Paul sat together at the defendant's table, while Ashley sat alone behind the one for the plaintiff, nervously fidgeting in her seat. Of course, no one was aware that was mostly because her ass was tender.
The judge entered and the courtroom stood, sitting down again once he called the room to order.
"Okay folks," he said informally in a relaxed voice. "I'm squeezing this in today. Let's get a move on. Who do we have today?"
Standing, she said, "Ashley Davenport representing the Patterson Corporation, your honor."
"Paul Patrick for Emily Swanson, your honor."
"And I notice the absence of Mr. Patterson and Miss Swanson. Does that mean something significant?"
"It does, your honor," Ashley spoke as she pulled a legal pad from her briefcase. Putting on a pair of sexy glasses, she read from her handwritten notes. "Mr. Patterson, as well as the Patterson Corporation have agreed to drop the lawsuit."
"Well, I would say that's very significant."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir. In addition, there are the following stipulations that were agreed upon by both parties."
She walked toward the bench, handing the judge a typed breakdown of the actual agreement. She wondered if he could smell the scent of sex that she was exuding. It seemed certain it was wafting through the air in her wake. Returning to her position at the table, she began to read off the long list of items that were a part of the agreement.
"My client agrees to pay all court costs, including the filing of the final judgment. He also agrees to pay all of Miss Swanson's legal fees incurred by this lawsuit, including the reimbursement of all expenses paid to retrieve the email. Miss Swanson's non-compete will be immediately voided, and she is free to pursue any client she wishes from this date forward.
"I have in my possession an apology letter to Miss Swanson, admitting the Patterson Corporation hindered her ability to make a living, and admits to fabricating the details that brought about the case to begin with. In return for this admission to the court, Miss Swanson agrees not to counter sue for the frivolous lawsuit."
"Is that true, Mr. Patrick?"
"Yes, your honor. We won't be seeking damages as long as the apology letter is entered into the court, and she gets a copy."
"Very well. Anything else, Miss Davenport?"
"Yes. Mr. Patterson agrees to pay Miss Swanson twenty-five thousand dollars cash to cover lost wages she incurred while dealing with the lawsuit. And he agreed to compensate my firm for the cost of this negotiation, including all billable hours and the cost of the meeting location."
