Debbie

Debbie wasn't the best looking girl in the office. In fact, the waste bin looked more attractive. But there was something about her that I couldn't put my finger on.

She was hard working. She often stayed behind when everyone else left. Never did I have to chase her up over a project. Her dead lines were always met easily.

In truth, she was about five, five, red hair, and dressed in loose fitting clothes. I guess this was what made her look so different from the other office girls.

Her make up was always carefully applied, and, amongst girls who didn't wear the tightest outfits they could find, she would look okay.

But in the office, she as the dowdiest I had ever met.

But as I said. There was something about her that I couldn't quite put my finger on. And I had to know what it was.

I decided to follow her home one night, after she finished. It was about six when she left the office, moved to the car park, and drove away. It was easy to follow her, as I don't think she ever thought someone would do it. She drove to the far side of town and pulled up outside an old house.

Minutes later, she entered, and I saw the lights go on. I sat, watching, for over three hours, but no-one came to visit. The downstairs lights went out, and the bedroom light came on.

For three weeks I followed her. I don't know why, as she always did the same thing. She drove home. And went to bed at around the same time. There were never any visitors, so she obviously didn't have a boyfriend.

Nor did she go out once she was home.

I really didn't know why, but I was fascinated by her.

I caught myself watching her in the office, getting distracted. My other work started to suffer, and only with great effort did I keep to my own deadlines.

She didn't mix well with the other girls. They were on about the latest fashions, the latest pop sensation, but she never seemed to get involved. If someone told a joke, she would laugh, but she kept herself to herself for the most part.

In truth, she was a mystery.

I started to day dream about her. What it would be like to see her naked. What it would be like to see her on her knees, sucking my cock. I imagined her being totally subservient, as she was in the office.

And she was. If anyone didn't want any particular project, and she was left with it, she didn't argue. She simply got on with the job, and got it done.

Twice I had seen her stay at the office until almost seven in the evening, and still, she went to bed at the sane time. It was like a ritual. She never stayed up later. Not even weekends.

I had parked outside her house early one Saturday morning, and waited. Around noon she came out and drove to the shops. She bought her groceries, and returned home. That was it. No interaction. No meetings. She was a loner at work and at home.

I could never fault her time keeping or her work. She arrived ten minutes early every day, checked her emails to see if she had anything special, before actually starting work. Most of the other girls checked their emails after starting.

If she was doing a project, I could guarantee it being finished on time. She was exemplary in all things. It was just that she dressed down, and didn't mix. This made her stand out from the others, and in a way, made her more desirable.

The other girls flirted with every man in the office, including myself. But not her. She was polite, but not flirty. But nor did she get asked out on dates as the other girls frequently did.

I had sat in my office, watching her, wondering what lay under the baggy clothes. Was she hiding something beautiful? Or was it as plain as she always appeared.

There had to be a way to find out.

I began to research her, starting with her family tree. Her parents were divorced, and, as far as I could tell, she was an only child. She had left home a few years back, and had rented the same house that she now lived in, ever since.

There were no court judgements against her, and no credit black marks. She was as clean as the day she had been born.

It began to niggle at me badly. There had to be a way inside her defences. She had to have a weak spot that I had not yet found.

It was three weeks later, and purely by accident that I noticed something amiss. She had been stretching for a folder, and her sleeve had slipped up, for only a second, but I had spotted something. As quick as the sleeve had risen, she pulled it down again, quickly looking around the office as if guilty over something.

I couldn't make out what I had seen, but it was something she didn't want others to see. I had to know what it was.

It had been a bruise. But not a random bruise as if she had hit her forearm on something. It had been around, rather than on her wrist.

What on earth would make that sort of bruise. A bracelet maybe? But I really couldn't see her wearing a bracelet that tight. It didn't fit with the rest of her clothing. And besides, I had not actually seen a bracelet around her wrist, just the mark.

It nagged at me for days, until I was watching television one night, a cop show, and someone who was arrested argued that the cuffs were too tight. As the camera closed in, I saw the mark. The same mark.

It came as a shock to me. I knew she hadn't been arrested. So how did she have the same marks as the guy on the program had?

I went out the next day and bought the film on dvd. I watched it until I came to the same part, and then froze the film, zooming in to see the marks on the guy's wrist.

There was no doubt in my mind. Her marks had come from a set of cuffs. But how? I knew she lived alone, and I knew she never had visitors. So who would be putting cuffs on her?

It was slow to dawn on me that she had to be doing it herself. But why?

II told myself I had been seeing things, but it nagged me, and I knew I needed to know if what I thought I had seen, was real.

There was only one way, and it was totally against the law, but I needed to know.

The next day I called in and said I would be late, as I had a meeting. Alison, who took my call, said everything in the office was fine, and I left it at that.

I returned to the office later, with my purchase, and waited. The day seemed longer than ever, even though I kept myself busy. Slowly, the girls started to drift away, and I was left in the office alone.

I wasn't sure I could go through with this, but I also knew I needed to know if what I had seen was real.

The small camera was still in my pocket. I could hide it in the ladies toilet and no-one would see it. I wasn't interested ion what went on inside the toilet itself, but the hand basin. If she was as fastidious about her hygiene as she was about everything else, she would wash her hands after using the toilet. That was what I was after. To wash her hands, she would have to lift her sleeves a little. Hopefully, enough to give me a clear view of her wrists.

She never used the toilet during working hours, so it was a safe bet she only used them during break times. I set the recorder to the times the girls took their breaks, and checked that I could see the sinks clearly.

If I got caught, or if someone saw the camera, I would be in deep trouble. But that didn't matter. The need to know was greater. She had to have a kink in her armour, and perhaps this was it.

The next day I took sandwiches for lunch and both of my breaks. I intended to sit in my office all day, and watch. I put the red flag on my door, which all the girls knew I was not to be disturbed for any reason.

I set up the monitor and turned the camera on by remote, just to check it was working. It was.

It would come on automatically at break times and lunch time, and though it did show the bottom of the toilet door, I could not see inside the toilet itself. But the view of the sink was clear. Even better than I had thought it would be. All I could do now, was wait.

It was lunch time before she used the toilet. By then I knew that Emily didn't wash her hands after using the toilet, and knew to refrain if she offered me a coffee in future.

But at lunch time I saw her enter the toilet room, and head for the toilet itself. I sat, and waited. This would tell me what I wanted to know, I hoped.

That I could be caught didn't enter my head. I watched as she entered the toilet, and spent five minutes inside, before coming out again. To my pleasure, she headed straight for the sink, as I had always expected her to do.

To wash her hands, she would have to raise her sleeves, and she did so.

To my surprise I didn't see bruises, but what I did see, gave me more pleasure. Bandages. Thin ones, but enough to cover what bruises she may or may not have. And on both wrists.

They were not large enough to be for any medical complaint I knew of. I guessed they were there to cover the bruising., both wrists. It had to be cuffs. But who? And why?

This needed delving deeper into, but how?

The answer lay somewhere else.

The London office reported a problem with their largest account. No-one had been able to satisfy the owner. It needed someone special to get to work on it, and get it done.

This was my opportunity.

I called her to the office and told her that I needed her to go to London and sort out an account. It was too big an account to lose, and needed that little extra that she may be able to provide. I told her it would mean a weekend away, and though she wasn't happy about it, she knew she really had no choice.

The weekend away was great. It would give me a chance to follow through a plan that was forming in my head. The fact that I was breaking even more laws, made it seem even more exciting.

She reluctantly agreed, and on the Friday I watched her as she boarded the train. She would now be gone until Monday evening.

I don't know why I needed to do this, but I did. I paid a nephew of mine, who was less than legal, to find a way to get into her house, without leaving a trace. He agreed, for two hundred pounds cash, and I arranged to meet him on the Saturday morning.

Before meeting him, I bought several more cameras, such as the one I had placed in the ladies toilets, and together we moved around the back of her house, hidden from view.

I didn't watch him. But a few minutes later he was inside the house, and opening the back door for me. He wanted to steal a few things, but I refused. He had been paid, and that was all he would get.

I watched him leave, and then set about my task. The cameras were hidden in her bedroom, her bathroom, one in the living room, and one in the kitchen. If she were putting her handcuffs on in any of these rooms, I would get to see it.

The cameras would send a remote signal to the unit I had installed at my own house, so I could watch her without being detected.

Before leaving her house I made sure the back door was locked. I left through the front door, saying I would see her at the office on Monday, in case anyone saw me leaving. But there was no-one around.

I drove home and checked the cameras. All four were working fine. I had good views of every room, allowing her nowhere to hide. I could enlarge the picture from any room I wished, so I could get a clear view of what she was up to.

Whatever Debbie was getting up to at home, I would have it on tape. I smiled. She would never know.

She arrived back at the office on Monday morning, earlier than I had expected her. She had solved the problem faster than I had thought she would, and had returned home on Sunday night.

Having not expected her back, I had not had the cameras running. So anything she had got up to that night, was lost to me. But I was determined to see what she did that would cause those bruises I had seen.

I waited and watched as she finally went to the toilet again, and washed her hands. The bandages were still there. Whatever she was doing, was bruising her enough to make them stay for days, if not permanently.

The more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became, and the more determined to find out what her secret was.

I went straight home from work and started the cameras by remote control. She was nowhere to be seen, so she had obviously not yet arrived home from work. But she did had Friday's work to catch up on, so her staying at the office was not a surprise.

I sat watching the television, with on eye on the monitors, waiting patiently for her to get home. I only hoped that she didn't finish too late, and go straight to bed and sleep.

Any fears I had in that direction, were totally unfounded. She arrived home a little after seven, and the camera watched as she walked through the front door, closing it behind her.

Now I would find out what she got up to. But what I did see, was not what I was expecting. In fact, I would never have expected it of her in a million years.

As soon as she had closed the front door, she dropped her bag to the floor and removed her coat, hanging it neatly behind the door.

To my surprise, she then began to undress. She had not walked more than three feet into the house, and she was already undressing. I watched, open mouthed, as she slid the loose jumper off over her head, revealing a very nice pair of tits. Tits I had never expected to see. I always thought she wore loose clothes to hide the fact she was flat chested, but she wasn't. in fact, they were the best tits I had ever seen. Firm. And with dark nipples centred on them. But something else. Something shiny. I zoomed the camera in and sat back surprised.

Through each nipple was a small silver ring. In itself, that was not too surprising, except for the fact it was Debbie. Shy Debbie. Connected to each ring was one end of a small chain, that seemed to pull her nipples towards each other. No wonder they looked form, they were held tightly by the chain.

She had worn no bra, and other than the two bandages on her wrists, she was now naked from the waist up.

I felt my hand fall to my cock, and began to stroke it. This was not what I expected, and I was already hard.

The skirt came next. I couldn't believe my eyes as the skirt fell to the floor. Long slender legs, leading to firm thighs, and a shaven pussy. The camera zoomed in on this, and again I was taken aback by surprise.

Her pussy had been pierced in several places, and I could clearly see a chain pulling both sides of it together.

I didn't even realise how turned on I was, until I heard myself groan, and my cock exploded in my hands.

The Debbie I was seeing now, was nothing like the Debbie I watched at work. The meek, mild, loner. She was anything but shy at home.

Undressed, she then entered the main room, and I let the camera zoom out to watch her. She moved to a set of drawers on the far wall, and pulled something out of them. At first, I couldn't see what it was, but as she pulled one of her hands in front of her, I could clearly see the handcuffs.

This would explain the marks, but nothing in the world could ever explain the rest of what I had seen.

I saw her place one of the cuffs over her right wrist. I expected her to close it slowly, but that was not her way. With a single action, I saw the cuff slam closed, trapping her wrist. She was trying to move her fingers as best she could, but the cuff was restricting her movements a little. I knew, then, it was as tight as she could get it. No wonder she had bruises.

I expected to do the same to the other wrist, but, as yet, she left it dangling, as she moved towards her computer and turned it on.

I could see her check emails, and a couple of sites I couldn't make out, and then she turned the computer off, and headed for the stairs. I checked my watch, and it was the same time as I had seen her go to bed when I sat outside her house.

I had no camera on the stairs, so I hoped she didn't use the second cuff before she reached the bedroom. To my delight, as she entered her bedroom the loose cuff was still hanging from her wrist.

I don't know if it was my imagination, but her cuffed wrist seemed darker than the other, but then, she had tightened the cuff as much as she could, so I should not have been surprised.

I watched open mouthed as Debbie moved towards the bed. I had not looked at the bed when I had set the cameras up, but had I done so, I may have got an inkling into what she was doing behind her own closed doors.

Moving to a drawer in her dresser, she removed what looked like a large dildo. I wasn't sure what she was going to do with this, as the camera had shown me that she had chains across her pussy, so, surely she couldn't be putting it in there.

How wrong can a man be?

She sat on the side of the bed and opened her legs wide. Taking the dildo in her right hand, she used the fingers of her left hand to open the chains, spreading them, pulling at her pussy lips. I zoomed the camera in so I could see clearly what she was doing.

The chain seemed to pull at her pussy lips. As she stretched a hole between the links, until she was able to get the head of the dildo through it. It must have been a good ten inches long, or so I thought, and wide. I zoomed out and focused on her face, as she started to press the dildo inside herself.

Her face went through contortions of agony, as I saw her press the large dildo deeper and deeper. Surely she couldn't get it all inside her. If she did, it would be much deeper than a man's cock would ever go.

I moved the camera to watch her hands, as she forced the dildo deeper. She slid it in and out, possibly to lubricate it, and then, using both hands, slammed it hard, and I watched in amazement as it went all the way in.

Almost immediately, the chains across her pussy moved back to their normal positions, trapping the dildo inside her. Unless she moved the chains again, it was not coming out.

Satisfied that it was inside her, she shuffled her hips a little and then stood up, and moved to a small drawer at the top of her drawer. At first I could not see what she had removed from it, but it soon became clear, as she dangled what looked like clamps in her fingers.

The clamps were joined by a piece of chain, much like the chain that linked her two nipples together, but slightly longer,

I watched the silent movie as she moved one of the clamps to her left nipple, teasing her nipple to stand, and then closing the clamp around it. I saw her grimace in pain as the clamp closed, but she made no attempt to remove it, but grabbed the other clamp and did the same to her right nipple.

I could only imagine the pain she was feeling, as the clamps bit deep into her nipples.

Now, she moved and lay on the bed. Laying on her back, her legs were wide open, as she leant forwards and pulled what looked like cuffs from under the base of the mattress. Each was fixed to the bottom corner, and I watched as she placed her left leg close to the cuff. Even before she placed the cuff around her ankle, I could see what she was going to do. Once in place, her legs would be held wide open, and she would not be able to close them.

Within minutes, she had done just that. And now she pulled leather straps from under the mattress, about a third the way up from the bed. These. She fastened around her upper thighs, forcing her legs even wider. How she would sleep like this, I had no idea. It looked extremely uncomfortable. But maybe that was what she wanted..

Only when both legs were fastened, did she lay back on the bed. There was no sheet covering her, as she lay naked and exposed. I saw her move her hands towards the top of the bed, and I watched as she fingered a key that was hanging close to the centre of the head board.. there was also a metal hook fastened in the headboard, and I watched as she fed the loose end of the cuff through the hook, and lifted her free hand.

If she closed the cuff around her wrist, she would be unable to release herself until she could get hold of the key. At first, I thought the key was in an easy position to find, but as I saw her start to close the cuff, I could see that only by stretching her hand as far as she could, would she reach it. Half an inch further, and she would be stuck as she was, until someone found her.