Job Security

He smiled a closed-mouth smile, rose from his chair and quickly made his way towards her. She became startled as he had an almost perturbed look on his face. He pushed his body next to hers to the point that his powerful chest was pressed against her bra and her breasts flattened out under the pressure. He reached under her arm, around her back and pulled her hair back, causing her chin to go straight up in the air and her head to be forced back. His piercing eyes stared into hers as he continued to grab her hair.

"What did I say about asking questions?"

"You said for me to ask questions only when you give me permission, Sir."

"Correct. So why did you just disobey me?"

"I am sorry, Sir, I forgot. I won't do it again."

"You're damn right you won't do it again. And do you know why?"

"No Sir, I don't know why."

"Because there is a price to pay and that is the only way you will learn your lesson."

As he continued to pull her hair from behind, her eyes started to water and she never even saw the eight-inch dildo he had in his other hand. He took the black veined dildo and reached under her skirt. With her panties already off, this gave him immediate access to her sex. The first inkling that he had anything in his other hand was when she felt the dildo go straight up into her. She flinched and gasped simultaneously. And although there was some pain, the dildo slid into her with little resistance as she had already generated enough of her natural lubricant to allow for its easy entry. He only took four or five strokes, sliding it in as far as he could. It seemed so easy to him that he knew she was enjoying herself; at least for now.

It happened so fast she couldn't figure out what would happen next. He then pulled out the dildo, pushed her down on her knees, pushed her head back up and forced the dildo into her mouth. She gagged briefly and even coughed. He pushed the long dark pseudo cock down her throat. "Take it all. Suck on it," he demanded. As the cock-like toy made its way to the back of her throat, she could feel it hit her tonsils and her gag reflex started kicking in. Her eyes were tearing double-time now. Her saliva was building up to the point that it started running out of her mouth. And just when it started to hurt, he stopped.

"That is just a sampling of the price you will pay if you do not obey me and do what I say."

"Yes, Sir," she gasped.

"Continue." He backed away and sat back down in his chair. She gathered herself for a brief moment and stood back up to continue undressing. She removed her bra, presenting her ample breasts with the large nipples that he had seen protrude through her tight blouses she oft wore to the office. For the first time today she felt embarrassed. She had just had her pussy pounded by a dildo and then had it forced down her throat but she had just become embarrassed for the first time by removing her bra? "Weird," she thought.

"Throw your bra on the sofa," he directed. She obliged and then started removing her skirt. When it hit the floor, she stood there in her birthday suit with only her high heeled shoes for cover. He admired her body for a good long time. She even caught a glimpse of his top-to-bottom scan, stopping and staring at certain areas that caught his interest. Was he planning in his head what parts of her body he would use or just admiring from afar what would be his in mere seconds?

She started to remove her shoes but was told to stop. "Keep those on." She thought for sure that he would want her to remove the shoes. With them off they were of equal height; with them on, she towered over him.

"Look forward and stand straight with your arms at your side. Do not move and do not look anywhere else other than straight ahead."

"Yes, Sir."

He then proceeded to inspect her; first with his look but then with his touch and even his smell, if that was possible. He explained that he was testing whether she had followed his instructions for her preparation earlier that morning or whether she had been lax. There would be hell to pay if she had prepared poorly, even though she had not anticipated, nor was told of, this kind of inspection. As he walked around her, she stared straight ahead but wondered what he was up to. She could smell the sweetness of his cologne, one that he had worn for years. Just like her Lauren mesmerized him, his Cool Water did the same to her.

He gently felt the same hair that he had been pulling only minutes before and smelled her neck, her arms, her ass. He picked his head up just inches from hers and then moved it closer so that his nose danced with hers. She tried not to laugh, as it seemed funny for a second, but it also felt good, almost intoxicating. "You passed the sniff test," he offered. "If I had smelled one hint of body odor or urine you would have gotten a hard paddling." Paddling? Did he mean to spank her or really paddle her, with a wooden paddle? Did he have one in the room? Did he plan to use it later? Suddenly, she realized that he could have many tools and objects hidden in the room that he planned to use on her. If he had planned this much, how much more time could he have taken—weeks, even months—to think about all of this? This made her simultaneously nervous and excited. She never really experienced the S&M lifestyle, but she had fantasized about it once or twice. What did he plan to do?

As he continued with the inspection, he ordered her to "Walk over to the sofa." She complied. "Bend over and put both of your hands on the arm of the sofa." Again, she did as she was told as her instructions came quicker now. "Take two steps back. Spread your legs as wide as you can. Stick your ass up high. Stay there."

He then proceeded to run his hands all over her body. He was intentionally looking for any body hair or stubble that would be unsightly or that wouldn't feel good to him. Of course, her landing strip was fine to stay as it was, as long as it was trimmed nicely and was not bristly, which he checked and then double checked, just to make sure.

He moved his hands down her long lean legs, feeling their smoothness and the bumps of her calves, inferring her athleticism. This seemed to make him happiest. The silky smoothness of her stems caused him to shut his eyes for a moment and he could feel the growing arousal between his legs. A woman's smooth leg was almost enough to get him off. And, by definition, hair stubble, of any kind, was a complete turn-off. He had lost an erection more than once when a woman he was with had not shaved her legs that day. Even twelve hours of unshaven legs would be too much for him, and he wasn't sure why. There weren't many body fetishes that he had, but smooth legs certainly was one of them—perhaps body odor, too. He moaned softly "hmmmm." She wasn't sure what he was up to back there but assumed he approved.

He gathered himself and reached underneath her and tweaked each of her nipples, which surprised her. She let out a small "eek." Then he felt around the outside of her pussy, rubbed her clit and, still reaching from underneath her, stuck one finger inside her wetness. "Now that felt good," she thought. However, just as soon as he had slipped his finger in, he pulled it out. He used her own juices to lubricate the outside of her asshole. As he rubbed around it her eyes opened, worried what he would do next. She had never had anal sex and frankly was afraid of it. She hoped he did not want to take her ass because she didn't think she could manage it. Just then, he inserted his lubricated finger into her ass. He put in one, then two knuckles worth of his middle finger. He did it again and then a third time. Just as her ass started opening up to accept his advances, he pulled his finger out. He then stuck his finger in her mouth for cleaning. She licked it hungrily, liking the taste and for the second time today, genuinely wanted to please him. She wanted to please him not just because she wanted to be obedient and win the contest. She just felt the need to please him.

Chapter 7

He made her walk over to the center of the room while he sat on the sofa. He poured himself a third drink. She felt uncomfortable and a bit shy in her nakedness, standing in front of him still with only her high heeled shoes on her feet for cover.

"Tell me about your first time having sex?" he asked.

"It wasn't the best experience, Sir."

"Tell me about it." Kat then started to tell the story of her boyfriend and how they had sex after dating for more than one year. How they were making out in the back of his car and he fingered her, bringing her to her first orgasm by rubbing it harder and harder. Once she recovered, he started kissing her again getting her hot all over. He took off her panties and went down on her virgin pussy. She loved it; what a feeling. When he finally moved his cock in front of her pussy, she was nervous but excited at the same time. He rubbed the head of his cock over her pussy lips, getting her wetter and wetter. He put the head of his cock in little by little, being gentile with his pushing. It hurt a bit, she thought, but not a lot, until she felt her hymen break. When he finally was all the way in and started moving in and out faster, she moved her hips in rhythm with his thrusts. It did not take him long to pull out of her and cum on her belly. "A bit disgusting," she thought. Not bad for a first time but she hoped it would get better.

Mr. Curtis then started asking questions about her sexual experiences and what she liked. A weird interrogation, she thought.

The questions came, one after another, for what seemed like an hour. "What do you like?" "What have you tried?" "What do you fantasize about?" "Have you ever eaten another woman's pussy—did you like it?"

"Answer me," he demanded.

"Yes, Sir. I did like it."

The inquisition continued on, question after question. She was embarrassed at most of them. She even felt that she should just make up a few answers, being completely untruthful, just so she would be less embarrassed. She then correctly figured that he would challenge her on those and may even require her to do more than she was even fibbing about.

Chapter 8

Standing there naked in front of him, Phil Curtis had to admit that Kat was quite the sight. Absolutely beautiful, if not striking. He walked up to her, gently held both of her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. Lightly at first, and incredibly soft, as if wanting to infer his love for her. Then he kissed her with slightly more passion and forcefulness, but still tender. It was an incredibly loving kiss, given the circumstances, and Kat's knees almost buckled beneath her. His tongue slowly moved into her mouth, inviting her lips to part. She eagerly accepted his advances, opening her mouth even more. Their tongues danced together and her guttural moans were barely audible to them both. When he pulled away from her, smiling, her eyes remained closed, as if not wanting the dream to end. When she opened her eyes, they both, for a brief moment, caught each other in their respective stares, wondering where they had been all their lives. A first kiss, sort of, like no other.

"It is time," he stated, looking intently into her eyes. Of course, she had no idea what he was talking about, but she inferred, just from those three words and how he said them, that what she had experienced so far with Phil Curtis was nothing like what was to come.

He summoned her towards him. When she stood next to him, he turned her around so that her back was against the closet door. As she looked overhead, she could see something sticking out from behind the closed door with a steel O- ring protruding from it. From the bedside nightstand, he opened the drawer and pulled out a set of leather handcuffs. Her eyes opened wide, then shut, realizing her predicament. Almost afraid to look, Kat knew that things were about to get interesting and that this would be newly explored territory for her.

He gave her every opportunity to stop, to say no. He opened the leather cuff and stared almost lovingly into her eyes. On her own, she looked at him and, knowing what he wanted, placed her hand willingly into the cuff. That was the whole idea. He was winning her over. He was enticing her to do something she had never done but he was making it her idea, without force.

He tightened the first handcuff around her wrist; it was snug, but comfortable, the soft leather comforting her small wrist. He did the same with the other hand. He then looked at the O-ring hanging well above her head, and then looked back to her. She smiled ever so slightly and raised both of her hands above her head, again, without being told, knowing exactly what he wanted, and what she wanted, really. Using the clips on each handcuff, he then connected her to the steel ring that hung out of the top of the closet door.

As she hung from the top of the closet, he reached back into the nightstand table and pulled out another set of handcuffs. "What is he going to use them for?" she wondered. She needed to wonder no more as he attached one, then the other, to her ankles. He then removed from underneath the bed a three-foot-long black wooden spreader bar, each end with an O-ring protruding from it. He immediately attached her ankles to each end of the spreader bar, using a carabiner on each side to ensure that she wouldn't simply slip free if he moved her the wrong way. At that very moment she was entirely at his mercy, spread wide open for him to see and use.

He stepped back and admired his work. She looked even more beautiful spread out before him with a somewhat bewildered look on her face, not knowing what was to come next. He wondered what she was thinking at that moment. Did she like what was happening? Was she afraid? Did she feel uneasy? Or was she fooling him—did she want him to do this all along, playing the role of the damsel in distress, the young innocent, to perfection? "Maybe it was time for a test or two," he thought.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said. As he started to walk towards the door, she began to speak "But...," and then caught herself. He glared at her as if to say, "Don't make me come over there and punish you." He opened the door and propped it open with the wedge the bellmen use to keep the doors open while carrying luggage into and out of the room. "He had this detail planned too," she thought.

"Hopefully, no one will walk in while I'm gone. Who knows what someone might do to you if they were to find you like this." "I shouldn't be gone for more than an hour or two," he mused. She didn't like the sound of that; she hoped he was just toying with her. He walked out the door. It was wide open. She could see past the doorway and into the hallway. Anyone who simply walked by would be able to see her, hanging there with her hands and feet bound and her legs spread wide open. Not to mention her naked body. She was nervous. She may not be a generally shy person, but she was not a public exhibitionist either. She then realized that a man could walk by, see her hanging there helpless, come into the room and do whatever he wanted to her without anyone being the wiser.

She then heard a noise in the hallway, another door opening then closing. Could it be another guest? She knew that anyone who walked by and saw the open door to room 1540 would at the very least take a quick look inside. Most people did that regularly and typically just saw the housekeeping staff inside, or a vacant room about to be cleaned. Imagine what their reaction would be when they saw Kat, the tall brunette lithesome beauty, hanging there naked and bound in front of them.

The footsteps got closer. It was definitely a man. He was walking this way...just a few doors away now...more footsteps. A body in the doorway. It was Mr. Curtis. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Happy to see me?" he chuckled.

"Yes, Sir.

"Well maybe you won't be so happy when you see what I have in store for you next."

In a span of sixty seconds, she had gone from nervousness to fright, to relief, to concern.

He next took out a leather flogger. It had a long handle with what looked to be fat leather strands on the end; they reminded her of chow fun noodles that she would order from the local Chinese restaurant. They also reminded Kat of the wide leather strands that came out of the ceiling of the automatic car wash she had frequented. Mr. Curtis stood several feet away from her and started twirling the flogger around in his hand; clearly, he had experience doing this. With the twirling flogger at his side, whirling around in counter- clockwise precision, she could feel the air that his movement was generating. She thought it felt good, almost cooling. She also felt that there was no way that thing could hurt her. The leather looked soft; the strands were flat; what could it do? Mr. Curtis took one more step towards her. A perfectly measured step that brought him to within millimeters of his ultimate target: her right nipple.

The next twirl hit its mark and made its point. It just barely nicked her nipple, but it sent an almost electric shock up her back and she let out a muffled scream. He grinned at her and moved over to her left nipple with the same result and the same scream. He moved back and forth between the two nipples, now red and gorged with blood as if they had been sucked on for an hour each. He stopped for a second and laid the flogger over her shoulder so that the long strands hung down over her left breast. She knew he was teasing her, that he was giving her a break but that he was also just getting started.

He walked over to the dresser, opened the drawer and pulled out a bag of clothespins. She had no idea what he was going to do with those. He opened the bag, removed one clip, opened it and placed it squarely on her right engorged nipple; he did the same with her other. 'That's not too bad,' she thought. Just as that thought left her mind, he started flicking his finger at one clothespin, then the other. The effect it had was to cause the clothespin to move from one side to the other quite violently, stretching her nipples with every movement. She could feel the intensity build with every flick of his finger.

He then proceeded to use the rest of the bag of clothespins, opening each and placing it on and around her breasts, so that she looked like she had two giant pin wheels circling her breasts. There must have been twenty clothespins in all. He also clipped a few pins onto the sides of her torso. None of these clips really hurt, per se. But the combination of all of them, each commanding just a little bit of her attention, made for a larger feeling of overall distress. She could easily make it through the pain of the clothespins for a few minutes; she was not quite sure of her ability to ignore the pain for a longer period. She knew that if he decided to pull any of the pins off without first pressing it open it would surely hurt.

He then removed the two clothespins that were clipped to her nipples. Just being free and clear of anything on her nipples made her feel more comfortable and at ease although she could see the feint teeth marks of the removed pins on each nipple. As he pressed himself against her she could feel the pins stretch and pull to and fro. Inadvertently, one of the pins attached to her breast pulled off. This elicited a sharp scream from Kat. "My god," she thought; "what will this feel like if he pulls them all off?"

But instead of pulling them all off he replaced the clip that had fallen. He then reached back into the drawer and pulled out two clips. They seemed like smaller yet heavier versions of the clothespins; and they were made of metal not wood. Also, each had a six-to-eight-inch chain connected to it, the chains met in the middle and were joined by an O-ring, which had another chain connected to it; it hung down vertically, with the three chains forming a giant "Y" in front of her. At the end of this central chain was a large O-ring onto which other things could be attached. Other things, like weights. As he attached the metal clips to her nipples, she immediately felt that these were tighter on her nipples than the clothespins. Whereas the wooden clothespins were made to allow for the hanging of clothes and were just used creatively for this secondary application, nipple clips were designed specifically to provide a pinch; a level of pain that could not be ignored. This was especially true when weights were applied. She worried about what he would do and whether she could endure the pain that was sure to follow.