tagBDSMBougeotte Ch. 02

Bougeotte Ch. 02


The seduction continued..... I felt the familiar rush through my veins as there would be more stolen hours with him. But, as always, that high was accompanied by the nagging feeling in my gut that I was on borrowed time. He never said it aloud, he didn't have to. He was quiet about his personal life, never offering any information and he never asked about mine. I wanted to know him- what he liked to do for fun, his taste in music, favorite foods, all of it, but I had to be selective when asking questions. Extremely intuitive, I could determine even through emails that I couldn't press him for too many details. Once or twice throughout all these weeks of correspondence, I received a message from him that had a softer tone; playful, the door to his heart opening a crack. But, just as quickly it was slammed shut. Maybe that was the allure though- he always kept me wanting more, my thirst never quenched, my hunger never satiated.

My secret life.... submissive slut by day, suburban housewife and mother by night. I didn't try to analyze it anymore, and deluded myself into believing that everyone had a dark side, and this was mine.

My husband was aware of my profile on the chat website, but not about my dangerous liaison. I knew instinctively that what we had between us was precious, a treasure, and I protected it fiercely. So mentally taxing, clearing recent history, erasing cookies...once, twice, over and over. Hiding my soaking wet thong in the laundry basket before my husband came home. I felt powerless to stop this virtual "affair" and reconciled my indiscretion by my husband's own fall from grace, when he was chatting with other women.

Michael sent me the start of our new story, "Employment," with an email to follow.

~~ Sitting in my corner office on the 24th floor, I glance at the clock and buzz through to my secretary.

"Emma, it's time for my two o'clock. Is she here yet?"

"I'll send her right in," comes the reply.

I've been looking for the right PA for a while now. I sit back and wait for the door to open. ~~

"Good Morning. I've decided I want to see you in a satin blouse, open to the front. You know my fetish for this particular type of clothing. Send it to me in the next hour," he demanded, my sexy taskmaster. "And I'd love to read your response to our story."

"I don't have a satin blouse; I can wear another pretty blouse for you," I offered, trying to please him. "I will send you my response soon, although I am not sure what our heroine is going to do...she is still quite miffed at you," I teased, trying to provoke him, as he never dodged my gusty taunts...they only fanned his fire, which was one of the most erotic things about him.

"Well, ultimately, our heroine is going to obey, or she will be punished," he replied with wicked assurance. "What are you wearing today?"

"Not wearing anything right now, I am just getting into the shower, wish you could join me...." I purred seductively, trying to tantalize him.

"Temptress. What a tableau you in the shower would make. When did you last fuck under a stream of water?"

Oh my God, what he did to me! The fact that I had to look up the translation of his French made me so wet.

As requested, I sent him my response to our story, knowing precisely where I wanted this to go. I say "our story" and that is exactly what it started to become. It was a shade darker than the first, a battle of wills at play. Was it "Life imitates art" or the other way around? All the same, I started to shiver as the cool kindly breezes of autumn evolved into crystal, razor sharp winter winds.

Still, as cold as he seemed at times, he broke me in so gently as we went along, slowly and deliberately taking my submissive cherry, as I shamelessly lay there, milfy legs spread, begging him to fuck me.

~~Oh, God...I'm so nervous, sitting here outside his office. My palms are sweaty...I haven't been on a job interview in so long. At least the outfit I'm wearing is perfect. I'm wearing a grey wool, pencil skirt just above the knee, with a single layer of ruffles at the bottom, and matching form fitting jacket with graceful notched neckline. Underneath....well, I do have a pretty black lace bra on, thigh high stockings....and that's it. My hair is up in a loose, feminine knot, with some tendrils hanging down. Professional, but I still look like a woman should, with curves, and a hint of cleavage. My black heels finish the look.

I have to meet with the boss, Mr. Michael- I haven't thought about that name since.....

Ugh! The sharp pain in my chest again...No! You are over him, completely over him. He meant nothing to you...I tell myself.

Think about the interview....focus! It's just that, I've never met anyone like him. He was so different, not only gorgeous, striking. With piercing green eyes...eyes that could see right through me. Intelligent, of course, but also keenly aware of what the majority of men don't see. With just a simple word, my knees would buckle.

Sadly, I never heard from him again after that unforgettable night.....Why? I still can't figure it out. I thought he was feeling it too. ~Sigh.

Ok, now focus....the interview, remember? Oooooh...it makes me so mad when I think about it. There was nothing we didn't do that night, well, almost nothing. And for what? He puts me in a cab and doesn't have the decency to call me, text me, nothing. If I ever ran into him again, I would love to give him a piece of my mind!

The secretary motions me to come, "He's ready for you," she says. Ok, here we go -shake it off.

She slowly opens the door to his office, I can't see him clearly yet. He then stands up and walks over to me.

Waaait......No! Oh my God, it can't be...it's.... Michael! My chin almost hits the floor, as my face burns with humiliation.

The secretary is making small talk, while he stands there, smirking, silently mocking me. The conversation is audible but muffled, as if I am floating underwater. I feel naked...exposed. She finally excuses herself and closes the door. Finally, I regain my composure, and feel the heat coming up from my toes, as the fear gives way to anger.

"You!" I hiss. I am so infuriated right now, I can hardly speak. Shaking my head back and forth, "You have some nerve! Using me like that, and sending me off without a word! You know what? You can take this job and shove it up your ass! I'm outta here!" I spat, fire bursting forth from my red ruby lips.

With that, I turn on my heel and head for the door.


Amused by your anger I take a seat. Your ass looks fantastic in that skirt as you walk towards the door and I feel myself harden.

Just as your about to open it you hear me say "Stop."

You were just about to twist the handle, but at the sound of my voice your hand freezes. You don't know why. Blushing you turn to face me. You can't look me in the eye but you feel my eyes running up your body, assessing you.

I like the look you've chosen. Conservative but sexy, understated.

"If you're trying to impress me," I tell you, "You're doing well. Sit down."

You're still angry, but it's subsiding. Your mind starts to wander back to the last time I gave you orders and you can't resist. You decide to play my game, after all, you do need a job.

You walk back across the room and sit on the chair facing my desk.

"Look at me." You look me in the eyes.

"I'm looking for a personal assistant -- someone I can rely on to do what they're told, be professional, imaginative, creative, accurate and dress appropriately."

"Most of all I'm looking for obedience. And if I don't get it there will be consequences."

"Obviously you're capable of doing the job otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"And just to be clear. Last time we met, I didn't use you."

Looking deep into your eyes: "I know you enjoyed every minute of that evening."

"Now tell me why I should employ you." ~~

"I will be going away tomorrow, and will be unavailable for the next few days," Michael stated out of the blue. "But, as I would be remiss in not giving you some homework, I want you to have the next chapter of our story sent to me before I return."

"Going away? Anywhere interesting?"

"Paris," he replied.

"Oh, Paris! Getting engaged?" I asked, teasing him.

"LOL, no, just a dirty weekend- shopping, eating, fucking," he chuckled.

"I'm going to miss these emails. Listening to Mariah Carey's song 'Obsessed' right now, as in, I-am-obsessed-with-you!" I confessed.

"I'm going to miss these emails too. A little obsession can be a good thing," he replied wickedly, for a moment, echoing my passionate desire. He then began to muse over what kind of lingerie he would be seeing in Paris, and what he would envision me wearing, maybe one that had a string of pearls attached, running over my delicate blushed lips, arousing my clit with each subtle movement.

Anticipating his sweet return, I penned the next chapter, just as he instructed.

~~ Stalling for time, I stay silent, not knowing what to say. My thoughts are in turmoil. Part of me is still angry and hurt, that I didn't hear from you. Another part is reeling from your arrogance, seeing that I am upset, and completely dismissing my complaints. In spite of all that, my mind drifts back to our last encounter, your punishments...and rewards.

I want you...next to me, inside me. My pussy tingles, and I am unable to stop the sweet nectar running between my thighs.

You are fully enjoying this. As your eyes devour me, I try to comfort myself, wringing my hands together, hoping you won't notice how terrified I am.

I gather my thoughts. "You should hire me because I have a great deal of experience in this field, my creativity is endless. I have no problem taking orders, but -I think you know that already," I say, my smile almost imperceptible, a twinkle in my eye.

"The only thing I need to know is what is appropriate to wear for you, er- I mean, in the office."

I look at you, and feel my lips part. You are breathtaking.

"That is, if you want to hire me...." ~~

As I hoped, upon his return he replied that afternoon.....

~~ "The job is yours as your resume is very impressive. I like the dignity of the outfit you've got on for an interview situation, but for everyday work it's unacceptable."

I stand up, drawing a pair of scissors from the pot on my desk. I walk round behind you and place a hand on your shoulder stroking my fingers up your neck loosening your hair.

"I expect the best working here, provocative, edgy and obedient. You need to be much more tempting."

In one movement I lean forward and snip the buttons from your jacket letting it hang open, exposing you.

"Already much better."

Cupping each breast in turn I pinch your nipple through the lace then let the nipple snap back before cutting the cone of material with the scissors.

Gently I caress both with the heavy, cold metal of the scissors. You shudder.

I ask you to stand. You do, facing me and I run the scissors up your inner thigh, lifting your skirt up, exposing your stunning pussy. Roughly I spin you round and bend you over my desk. Then I cut a long V of material away exposing the backs of your legs and your cute little ass.

As the material hits the ground you feel the tip of my cock resting on your pussy lips..... ~~

"Ohh..." I murmured aloud, then drew in a sharp intake of breath as I envisioned him pressing up against me from behind. I sent him a quick email. "Scissors? You did make me shudder! Miss me..?"

The next day, I tiptoed down the stairs, eager to find his next erotic tease.....hmmm...nothing. Ok, well, he just got back in town and all....no worries.

But the day after that, nothing still. This was odd... Did I say the wrong thing? I sent him a short note, "Everything ok?"

No reply.

A few days passed, still no response. And no activity on the website. I was worried sick now...what happened? Was he found out? As each day passed, I grew more frantic.

What if I never hear from him again? I must have checked my email on the hour.

I broke down and sent him another email. Fluctuating between panic and denial, I began to doubt the internet's capability of sending my previous message. "Michael, haven't heard back from you. Just checking to make sure you're ok."

Again, no reply.

I had to talk to someone! My best girlfriend, my heart stone- Veronica. . If anyone would know what to do in this situation, she would! I dialed her number. "Ronnie, I have to tell you something," I began.

"I have been chatting to someone online..." I confessed softly. My words heavy with remorse, I shared everything, from my husband's online dalliance to my own infidelity. Not immune to the temptations of life, she understood and never judged me. I sent her the story Michael and I completed and the latest unfinished one, so she could see the intensity of the relationship, and told her to call me back after she read it. Two minutes after we hung up, the phone rang.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed into the phone, and then immediately hung up to continue reading, making me crack up with laughter. Ok, so it wasn't just my imagination...Michael and I did have something hot between us!

"Jen, I'm telling you....you will hear from him again," she confidently told me. "A man like that wouldn't leave this story unfinished. This isn't someone who just researches butt plugs online, he has them and knows how to use them! He will definitely be in touch."

We both surmised why he had disappeared. "He probably got hit by a car and broke his leg!" she theorized kiddingly, trying to lighten my mood. "No, no, wait- better yet, he's in the hospital with appendicitis!"

Both nurses, I countered, "Yeah, but he would be out of the hospital by now, if it was just appendicitis!"

"Ok, well, he went septic and is still in the ICU!" she said, which sent us into a fit of laughter, and we continued making things up until our face ached. It was almost orgasmic after getting off the phone with her, as we both sighed in pleasure.

"Call me immediately when you hear from him," she demanded.

"I will, don't worry." In an effort to tempt him in case he logged onto the chat website, I took a sexy photo of myself in the hot pink satin lingerie, and posted it to my profile.

Ten days had passed. I was beginning to doubt that we ever had anything between us at all. I went onto the chat website one last time to see if he had logged on.

Beneath his profile name, there it was. "Online." I couldn't believe my eyes. He was there! I immediately checked my email- one message from him. Finally, I would find out what happened!

I opened and read the message.........

No, he-didn't-just-say-that. I sat there, stunned silent. You have got to be kidding me!

I called Ronnie right away. "Ronnie, guess-what?!" I said, my voice overly annunciating each word.

"He emailed you?"

"Yes, he did, but just wait until you hear what he wrote," I crooned, dangling the long awaited cliff-hanger.

"He better have been emailing you from the hospital bed on his blackberry!" she said sarcastically. "Tell me immediately, I'm dying!"

I read her his email, word for word----"I'm fine, on the website in fact. I thought I would give you a break. Nice pic. For me?"

"Not anymore!" she returned contemptuously.

To be continued...

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