And the scent from the rose, filling my head... I'd be going to my desk and there would be that same scent, all day, and my pussy would clench and my clit would throb at every whiff. So simple, and so evil. If I were a guy and I was going to be with a girl for her first time I'd bury her nose in roses and then I'd fuck and finger ruthlessly her to orgasm, and forever after the scent of roses would turn her inside out, and she'd never forget me. Women are so easy to teach, sexually; we imprint on a male, why don't more men understand this?
And then I was whimpering, because a hand moved from my hip to my hair, and having my hair pulled during sex is one of those dark little turn-ons I can't shut off. But I couldn't come in here! Everyone would hear, who could I work in a place where everyone knows -- I mean here everyone does know but being heard is just -- just-
But it didn't matter. He pounded me, growling, panting, and I had to take it, and I had to keep touching, and the pull of his hand arched me just the way I'd arch if I was coming, but it worked backwards too and suddenly I was unable to breathe, I licked my dry lips, and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck yes-
He stopped.
I contemplated murder.
"Both hands on the desk, legs apart," he snapped. At least he was panting.
I half sobbed, the need in me so strong I wanted to curl into a shaking ball, and with just one touch of my finger I could fly to the moon- but he was using the Not Negotiable voice and I obeyed without thinking.
His hand slapped my ass, hard. Twice.
"Why?!" I cried out and then bit my lip because that had been too loud, and then it finally occurred to me, oh SHIT-
"Where's the rose, Allie," he snarled.
I licked my lips, but in fear, not need. I'd dropped it of course. Probably when I'd been completely distracted by the orgasm he'd just casually ruined my morning by not quite granting me.
"I- I dropped it..."
He slapped my ass again. I bit back the whimper.
"Where is it supposed to be?"
"My mouth -- I'm sorry, I-"
"Get it back in your mouth. Use only your lips to do it, and be careful because there are still some thorns in the stem. Now."
That had been the most redundant Now ever spoken. I was already around the desk and on my hands and knees, and I very carefully gathered up the stem between my lips.
Which meant I wasn't paying attention to him, and so when his fingers pushed into my slit, I dropped the rose again and cried out. Shuddering, I picked it up again.
His fingers... I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. There is nothing I know that's more intense than his start-stop-start kind of edge play. After just a few seconds I was whimpering again. And I knew his cock was still... it's impossible not to think about his cock. And I have this little thing about being taken on the floor, being forced to open my legs to a man who doesn't care whether I'm comfortable, or ready, or even... willing. (There, I said it.)
My legs turned to jelly and I collapsed, sobbing, and rolled onto my back, legs spilling open. I wanted to say "Just take me," but the rose between my lips meant I had no permission to speak. It didn't matter. The coaxing movement of my hips said it all.
But he only smiled, darkly. "No, Allie. Playtime is over. Do you think I'd be able to work after cumming? We're going to have to wait." He took the rose from my mouth, and traced the petals against my lips, and then across my nipples through the tight, thin cloth.
"You're... going to leave me like this?" I said, incoherently. "I can't think straight."
The rose drifted down my belly, and then to bare skin, playing along my thighs. "Not... helping..." I whispered.
"But you're needed at your desk," he said, and now the soft, somehow heavy bloom of the rose was being flicked at my clit.
"Desk?" I whispered. I started to close my legs, to end the torture he was inflicting, but roses have thorns and I realized I'd have to leave them apart.
He moved the rose faster, flicking and caressing. I stared up at him, licking my lips, shaking at each slight impact. Cock. He still had it out. I opened my legs wider. "You want me, too," I whispered, sluttily. "Just take. You're hard for me, do you know what that does to me? I want to please you. You know I do."
To my surprise, I could tell I was getting to him. "Not... now." His cock throbbed, and my legs opened wider; I traced my stockinged toe along his pant leg.
"Please," I whispered. "Take me. Hurt me a little, punish me for dropping the rose again. I want to feel you being... ruthless."
(I have to stop again. This is fucking agony.)
That hit him hard. He reached forward and his hand tangled in my hair, and he hauled me towards him. My face was within inches of his, and his eyes burned down into mine. "You seduce well. I'm very tempted. But of the two of us, I'm the one who decides when you get cock. And this is a work day, not a play day. So get to your feet."
"I -- c-c-an't-"
"NOW!"
I was on my feet. He had to reach out and steady me. I pulled my clothing back together. He took the condom off and somehow that made me even hotter.
"I'd said No," he said, softly. "And you tried to change my decision. That's not appropriate, so I'm going to inflict a very slight punishment on you." He reached down and rubbed some of his precum on the ball of his thumb, and then painted it on my upper lip.
"Don't wipe it off. No licking. The smell will become distracting... now get to work."
+++
Slight punishment, he'd said.
The smell wasn't strong, and it faded quickly, but I kept imagining I smelled it, and that was worse. And the desire to lick it became this bizarre fascination. Wanting to lick his precum. Not being able to. Pussy throbbing at every whiff of roses. Imagining the sting of his hand in my hair. I was the ditsiest receptionist in the world. By 10:30 I'd run to the bathroom twice to blot my wet slit.
"Yes, Mrs. Robison. Anderson! Sorry. So you want all nine in-" I blushed hotly "um, all your appointments at nine in the morning? He can only give you a half hour -- yes, I understand that's not enough-"
The only thing that got me through the morning was the looks of pure hatred Lauren gave me. She was running some project in the back half of the offices, so our interactions were brief and deliciously poisonous.
At 11am, Dr K came up behind me, and whispered in my ear, softly "My fuckable little slut. You're wanted after work; make arrangements."
He moved off. My legs rubbed against each other for the next half hour. I smelled roses and precum and my own warm pussy. I couldn't think.
++
Lunchtime. Lauren appeared. "Shall we eat?" she smiled. "Of course," I smiled. It's such fun to be a woman. Guys just punch each other, they miss all this good stuff.
We settled in one of the examination rooms; the only way we could talk with a door closed.
"Pearls," she said without preamble. "On your second day. And you're how old again? Eighteen? I'm sure you feel good about this."
"It feels wonderful. Doesn't he buy you things?"
"I have pride."
"And I have a warm, tingling pussy."
"And a pink ass?" She smiled, viciously. "I heard your yelp. Has he shown you his paddle yet? It has these little spikes..."
That made me shiver. I'd been briefly insane this morning when I'd asked Dr K to hurt me a little. I hadn't meant it, not really, and he hadn't ever been that way with me. I'd been to exactly one website where that kind of thing was, um, celebrated, and I'd left it five minutes later, shaking. It had never occurred to me that he might have certain kinds of toys, outside of what I'd seen in The Room. And The Room was scary enough.
"Really? What does it feel like?" I smiled.
"It hurts. Allie, you are in so far over your head. Pearls and nice shoes, do they make up for yesterday?"
She kind of had me there. Dr K made me shake in need. But involving other people just made me shake.
"You were there too, Lauren dear. It seems to me the only difference is that I'm wearing pearls."
"Another difference is I know how this turns out for you."
"Do you? I'm not you, Lauren. I won't be bitter in a few years because I couldn't let go of myself long enough to give him what he wants."
"What he wants is a slave girl. A slutty puppet. And he's already got your strings."
"And he doesn't have yours? Lauren, you're so painfully jealous. You can't possibly think you're hiding it well. You're fascinated by his control. You want to give in."
"If I wanted to I would. And why would you want me to, allie? So you can feel better about what he does to you? Let me tell you how he thinks. The instant I give myself over to him, it's threesomes with you. And no offense, but no thank you. I'm ok with girls, but last night is as close as I ever want to get to seeing your inexperience on display."
What a complete cunt. "Oh, I'm not worried about inexperience. He's a good teacher, and at this rate I'll have you passed in a couple weeks."
The strange thing was, we were both kind of enjoying this. I'm not all that vicious and maybe she wasn't either, but oh what fun to play the bitch now and then.
She laughed. "So how is this going to work, bitch. Dr K can't see us fight, and I don't want this to turn all junior high. Which was, what, four years ago for you? So we just mind our business and ignore the time the other girl's in that room?"
"Works for me, minx." It didn't matter what we said right now; it would all change tomorrow. We were just playing the game at the moment.
Then I frowned. "One thing, though. If we do end up in the same... scene..." I looked at her, somberly. "No rough shit, no dangerous games. Did you ever see the movie Chicago? No pushing each other down the stairs."
She nodded somberly, and then the hate was back on.
"So what's it like, when he gets you alone?" I asked.
"I told you. He tries to make me crawl."
"And you don't. Tell me what happens instead."
"Why should I?"
"It's the frenemy thing. We have a common situation... a common... is he an adversary? I don't know. A common problem."
"That doesn't mean I tell you things."
"It does. He's a very... large presence. We're both wrapped up in his power. He's what we have in common and we can't talk about it with anyone else, so we can't help talking about it here, I think."
She looked at me with cool, pretty eyes. "Not a bad insight, allie, for your age that is."
"And...?"
"Fine. When I'm in that room there are rules. I have to be obedient within at least certain limits or I'm not allowed in again. The lines have been drawn carefully. I can be told to strip down to my panties. I can be told to stand, lie down or bend over. I can be bound by the wrists. I can say no to having things in my pussy and I don't have to suck his cock. I can say no to being kissed on the lips -- and he doesn't ask for that, but he can lick my lips and that can drive me insane. He limits me to fifteen or sometimes thirty minutes. But he can do anything else he likes. Sometimes he just puts me against the wall and put my wrists in the manacles, and blindfolds me and touches me. You can't help wanting more when you're touched like that! Sometimes he lies me on that bench and ties my wrists up behind my head, and makes me watch erotica while he uses a vibrator on me. Sometimes he pushes his cock against my lips, and rubs against me until he comes on my breasts, and makes me wear it for the rest of the day. That's maddening. Sometimes he alternates between using a vibrator and spanking. There's this game -- he describes something he wants to do, and asks if he may. A yes brings the vibrator, a no brings a spanking with that damned spiked paddle. If I say yes he might or might not do what he described, but just by saying yes, the damage is done. Inside of ten minutes I'm saying yes or no according to which I fear most at the moment, the vibrator or the paddle, except I always try to say no when I'm asked to crawl -- but if I do crawl, then there are no limits and that's terrifying and wrong. He's cruel, allie. There's a trace of submissiveness in me, just a trace. He says there's much more and I won't let it out. He's been slowly escalating his assault on me, one small and ruthless step at a time. He wants to make me crack, and then I'll be like you, helplessly smitten and helplessly obedient. And he fucking knows exactly what he's doing and that's what makes him irresistible. He knows much too much and it doesn't hesitate to use what he knows."
"I'm not helplessly obedient."
"You will be. You're a slut, allie. We all are when the right man gets hold of us in the right way. I'm barely holding out and the only reason I even try is pure pride, and well, because there's a guy I'm seeing. He has no idea what Dr K does to me. He doesn't make me feel a tenth of what Dr K does, even when he fucks me. Oh, and the Chicago thing -- no screwing around with my boyfriend. You'll never contact him, got that? Off limits."
I nodded. That was a rule I would follow. This was a sort of seductive jealous hate we had going, and it was strong, but it would stay in the office.
It was impossible not to notice we were both aroused. I'd seen Lauren mostly naked yesterday, and it was very easy to imagine her spanked and then toyed with by a vibrator. I let myself picture it;, Dr K was cruel to her, making her sob and beg, and his face was stern and implacable...
"What do you imagine he does with me?" I asked, suddenly.
"He makes you a cocksucker," she said, instantly. "He takes you by the hair and rubs his cock against you, between your breasts, against your ass, in your pussy, and then finally when you're so frantic you can't breathe he makes you use your mouth to get him off. If any spills on the floor you lick it up. If you can't get him off, your ass gets paddled until you cry and then he makes you masturbate while he fucks you, but you can't come. He pulls out at the last second and cums on the floor, and you lick it up, crying. What does he do to me?"
"Bondage," I replied. "You're helpless -- completely helpless. He fucks you, slowly, and you're so turned on you're cursing and pleading. He makes you call yourself a slut and a cumwhore, and the madder you get the more you want to cum. Then he bitch slaps you, over and over, and cums on you. You don't cry but you find it shattering and when he unties you, you crawl to him on your belly and lick his feet."
"I hate feet. Never happening."
"I don't like licking up cum. So we both knew what the other wouldn't want to do. Instinctively. Do you think that's how he works? He knows by instinct what we like and hate, and that's how he controls us?"
"Instinct... no. We tell him. He gets you to open up to him and what comes out is hints about our sexual needs. We tell him what buttons to press. We can't help it."
I shivered at that thought. It was probably true. We spend so much effort keeping things secret. But the right guy comes along and we sometimes we forget about keeping it hidden. We let it slip, a little at a time, until we've told him everything, and then...
"Does he come when you suck his cock?" She asked.
I blushed horribly, and didn't reply.
"You'll learn," she said.
"No one ever insisted before," I explained. "So I don't... ugh, change the subject."
"It's half visual, looking good to him as you move" she said, running with the topic, "and half learning how he needs to be worked. There's a spot under the head of the cock that gets most guys, and you do it with your tongue. Lips count for only so much. Start soft and then get a little firmer. Touch yourself a little as you do it -- the hotter you are the more he'll respond. And when it happens, either swallow, or get it in your pussy just as he comes. Never spit. Rub his balls when you think he's getting close. Treat the head of his cock like you treat your own clit, but even firmer, and you're halfway there."
"Um..."
"Every girl should know. And I don't like giving head so much. I gag too easily and he's not small. You can be the cocksucker."
"And you'll take it in the ass?"
It was her turn to blush.
"Let me guess?" I said. "The few times you do crawl, he punishes you for holding out so much. So he gets himself slick in your pussy, then turns you around-"
"Stop," she said. "Fuck, has he done that to you?"
"No," I said. "And it would terrify me."
"It should. It- I- shit. I can't even talk about it. And it's not that simple. I have a... I mean, he ties me up and blindfolds me and then takes me from behind until his cock is slick, and then he positions a vibrator, and now I'm practically on the ceiling in need, and then he toys with my nipples and calls me names... and when I'm shaking, he starts to push his cock in there, and it's so fucking wrong, but the vibrator has me past the point where I can think. And the worst part is I know he wants pussy from me, but he won't cum in my pussy, or let me cum with his cock in my pussy, until... alright, shit, that's enough about this."
I hated her. She had a secret desire to be abused and Dr K clearly liked that because she was still around.
"Have you seen his flogger?" she said, suddenly.
She won. I packed up what was left of my lunch and walked out.
+++
"Alona."
His voice sent shivers through me. I turned.
"Yes, Dr K?"
"Your little lunch dates with Lauren. They are not a good idea."
"Um... if you say so, Dr K."
"She's scaring you, Allie. You're standing at the entrance to a whole new world and she's going to do her best to make sure you turn and run screaming."
The question just popped out. "Do you have a flogger?"
He stared at me, cooly. "No. I have a paddle, and for fun I have a violet wand that I take out very occasionally for the novelty effect."
"Oh." The fucking bitch...
"I... see," he said, calmly, but I could hear anger creeping into his voice. "Go and tell Lauren she's wanted in the room in five minutes. Then tell William he needs to take up Lauren's part of the project for the afternoon, as Lauren will be going home a bit early."
"William?"
"He started today. He's doing research with me and he's going to accompany me with some of my more involved patients. He's in back, settling in, and since he's the only other male here I suspect you'll be able to pick him out... go, Alona."
He walked off, impatiently.
**
I delivered the message to Lauren without staying to chat. I was darkly amused to see her face turned a bit ashen.
**
William turned about to be about 30, maybe a little more, I'm not that good at judging ages, and, of course, he was gorgeous. Cropped blonde hair, chiseled face, cold blue eyes, muscled and slim physique. About 6' 3" feet tall. If you've ever had wicked fantasies about bad cops, this guy or a near cousin probably showed up in it. He was just the right kind of evil.
He looked up the instant I walked in, and the assessing smile he gave me, frankly, scared me. I smiled back, to hide my fear.
"William? I'm Allie. Dr K needs you to take over Lauren's project, since she'll be going home early." The words tumbled out.
His smile turned mocking. "Now, say that again, in English, and more slowly." He had a trace of a German accent and I suddenly remembered a video I really, really should not have watched when I turned 18. No, I'm not going to describe it. It was sick. I blush thinking about it to this day.
"Um, I'm Allie-"
"That is a nickname, yes? What is your full first name."
"Alona."
"Better. Now start again."
I was getting flustered.
"I'm Allie, and-"
"No, idiot. Proper name."
I was blushing, because of a scene I remembered from that filthy video. The captive had answered a question wrong, and... no, I'm wasn't going to think about that.
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