No Reason Ch. 01

This is a story built on chapters. I hope to develop characters and plot as opposed to quick and dirty.

Enjoy.

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Ever since I was old enough to achieve self awareness, I knew I liked things that were different.

While most boys my age liked riding their bikes and watching super hero movies, I liked exploring dark and dirty buildings around town and watching dark and dirty movies about drug addicts and miscreants. I liked to ride my bike, too. I had friends that liked super heroes and I went to birthday parties, but I liked being alone and doing things my friends didn't like doing.

When girls started to replace bike rides, my tastes again proved to be somewhat particular and peculiar compared to my friends. I suspected the girls everyone else liked were a sort of unconscious amalgamation of what we as a group felt the other guys would approve of. Everyone of them afraid to say they liked someone different than the other guys.

If I had to guess, I would say that my time alone gave me the autonomy to go against the grain and just like who I liked. It never bothered me that my friends wouldn't approve.

I liked the girls that didn't care what anyone else thought about them. The ones that shaved their heads, dyed their hair bright colours, wore mismatched outfits and caused the other girls, the ones my friends all liked, to sneer and whisper behind their backs.

To me, those girls, the different girls, were mysterious and exciting. They resonated with me in real and tangible ways that the "right" girls didn't.

Ironically, I wasn't inclined to being outwardly different myself. I looked like my friends, and was too nervous and awkward to talk to those girls I liked, the same as my friends were too nervous and awkward to talk to the girls they liked.

As different as my tastes were, I still wanted to fit in on many levels. It's in us all to belong, afterall. Even the different girls all hung out together, giving themselves a place to belong outside the places where they didn't.

Somewhere along the way, my definition of different expanded to include women that didn't shave their heads, but instead used them in an intellectual way. They didn't plan their fantasy weddings, they planned to experience what life had to offer.

Like their shaved headed sisters, these ladies were bold and cared not at all about the opinions of others. That determination was enticing, and my interest in strong willed women began to take on a more refined feel.

But, the very ultimate woman in my eyes is the determined and intelligent woman that can be bent to my will to serve my deepest and darkest desires when she isn't taking on the world in her professional life. The woman that inspires fear in her competition lying legs tied open, hands tied over her head, butt plug firmly in place and begging to be ruined as best she can over the ball gag in her pretty mouth is a delicacy like no other.

And if she can take a beating on top of all that, my dear god, is there a more desirable creature on this earth? Not in my books.

These rare creatures exist. In my time on this earth I have found a precious few that tick all my boxes. There are many that live to serve, sexually or platonically, or some combination of both. There are many that love a good rough romp, but have no desire to serve. And many more very powerful women that refuse to relinquish that power for anyone.

Every one of these ladies is beautiful in her own way, and very desirable to someone like me. They all have my utmost respect and admiration, but none have my total undying loyalty like the unicorn that has it all. I must admit, I have on occasion been a little too eager to hold on to these mystical beings when they have run their course.

Today I find myself in pursuit of a woman so unique in her attributes that I fear I may never find another that could hope to live up to her. She is beautiful, of course, but also a chameleon like yours truly.

I spotted her one morning on my way into work. I work in a large, impersonal office building in the heart of a large impersonal city. I am involved with the process of "streamlining" organizations with large workforces. Basically, I'm the guy that decides how we can let some people go while making the lucky remaining people do more work to make up for the smaller number of people doing their jobs.

It's a heartless and demoralizing job. I'm also quite good at it, from what I hear.

On this particular late spring morning, I was rounding the corner that gives me access to the front of the building from the parking lot when I caught a vision of astonishing beauty opening a door about twenty feet to my right.

The early morning sun was shining behind her, warm and golden, back lighting her curly chestnut hair as it danced on her shoulders. She wore a navy blue power suit, pure white blouse under her razor sharp jacket and an immaculate skirt hovering ever so strikingly two feet above her black two inch heels.

White nylon ropes crossing her skin barged into my mind. Visions of her smooth skin criss-crossed with seething welts from my extensive collections of floggers warmed my blood and clouded my mind for a few exquisite moments.

I'm not sure how long I stood staring at her, but I'm certain if she had noticed me at all, I would have had to answer some questions about work place harassment.

For most people, the sight of her would lead them to conclude that she was a high powered woman that takes no prisoners. Professionally, I would immediately agree. Outside of work, however...

Years of being different has provided me with a sort of extra sensory perception, so to speak. I knew in those first beautiful moments that this exquisite creature was someone else entirely behind closed doors. This beacon of feminine power in a male dominated world secretly yearned to serve.

Every moment of spare time that day, and indeed the next several days, were spent sending out feelers to learn all I could about this woman. She had taken over my conscious mind so much so that I had to push her aside to do my job. Between tasks, however, I searched the collective consciousness for her.

A friend of mine from another company two floors below mine informed me that a new VP had started that day. A woman whose reputation struck fear into the hearts of everyone under her. He had only caught a brief glimpse of her as she was being shown to her office, but his description matched what I had seen with my own eyes a couple hours before.

Now I knew where she worked in the building and I had a man on the inside. Things were looking up.

I asked my friend to join me for lunch. We often had lunch at one of the many nearby establishments that catered to the downtown business crowd, but today I suggested we stay in the building and eat one of the many vendors in the food court.

It seemed to me that a new person hired to a prominent position may want to get to know their surroundings this early in their tenure and not stray too far from home. As much as I enjoyed Ben's company, I was on the hunt for a unicorn, and the food court was my best bet.

I was about halfway done my over priced bland chicken wrap thing when she walked into the common area from the elevator bay. The food court was big enough to park several box cars side by side and pretty busy at the time, but I flet the whole world slip away when she crossed my eye.

She was flanked by one of the other VP's of the company on one side and a furtive little man I assumed to be her new assistant. My read of the situation put the little man as a scared door-mat type, and the other VP - a sturdy man of about 40, and just slightly less than attractive - walked like she was his new girlfriend just being introduced to the public.

One thing was adamantly clear: this woman was fully in charge of their little group. Her presence overshadowed her misfit entourage like a shark in a fishbowl, and I wanted her for my own.

I pictured her in handcuffs and black lingerie, burning red welts across her skin. I imagined the sweet sounds of her cries as my cane met her flesh, taking her breath for a beautiful moment before she smiled back at me and asked for another.

I snapped out of my devine vision before standing up would be scandalous and looked back at Ben. By the look on his face, I could tell it was my turn to talk, but I had no idea what had been said.

"Is that her?" I asked him, tilting my head in the direction of my living dream.

Ben turned briefly and cast her an unbelievably disinterested glance. Could he not see her? Was he blind? I sat there trying not to make a scene with the bulge in my pants and he showed no sign of being in awe at all.

"That's her," he said turning back to face me. "The ice queen herself." Ben smirked at his little jab towards his new boss.

"She's magnificent," I said a little too emphatically, looking past Ben again to savour a few more moments of holding her in my sight.

"Are you nuts? She'll eat you alive and spit you out," Ben laughed. He turned and looked at her again to try and see what I was seeing. "She's a bit heavy for my liking," he said finally turning back to his salad.

"What's her name?" I asked. "Is she the VP of your department?"

"Her name is Clarice Masterson and yes, she is my new boss," Ben said sulking. "Everyone says she's a heartless bitch that's going to shred my department and double the workload for whoever doesn't get laid off."

"As someone with that very reputation, I suggest you make yourself invaluable," I said, and I meant it.

Ben was a good worker and a top performer in his field. He had climbed up the ranks of his advertising company very quickly, so as far as I could tell, he had nothing to worry about. Of course, I wasn't the one signing his paychecks, so doing a little extra work here and there while Ms Masterson was getting to know everyone just might save his job.

As for me, I had other things on my mind.

Over the next few days, I learned as much as I could about Ms Clarice Masterson, MBA, VP of Sales for Waterhouse Group. I did the usuall social media searches and found nothing unprofessional about her.

If anything, her online presence was too professional and sterile. Exactly the kind of image someone in a powerful corporate position would go out of their way to promote. Especially when being considered for a new job.

My predatory senses buzzed incessantly as site after site showed me a beautiful career oriented woman, but nothing else. She appeared to exist in a vacuum. No family. No friends outside of business associates. No vacation pictures in exotic locations. Nothing.

Perfect. I know what that means, and it thrilled me to find it. Could she be any more perfect?

I happened to find her alone in the elevator after work about two weeks since I first caught fire at the sight of her. We had both been working late and most of the building was empty.

My smile was a little too familiar when the door slid silently open to reveal my prize like a curtain on an 80's game show. After holding her so prominently in my mind over the last two weeks, I felt I knew her already though we had never spoken a word.

"Hello," I said after regaining my senses.

"Hello," she replied, taking me in her gaze and holding me there for a few seconds before releasing me.

"You're new here, right?" I asked, knowing full well she today was her thirteenth day on the job. "I'm Ryan," I said, extending my hand. "I work on 15."

She took my hand for the first time and I can still feel her soft, warm skin pressing against mine. Her grip was firm, confident and befitting her position, but not overdone in that way some people do when they are trying to prove themselves.

"I'm Clarice," she replied smiling her practiced professional smile. "I work on 12, and yes I'm new here. This is my second week."

"Two weeks and you're already putting in overtime," I said. "You must have a tough boss and a tough job."

"I do, yes," she replied. "I'm new, so I want to make a good impression is why I'm still here, really, but don't tell my boss."

"My lips are sealed, Clarice from 12," I said.

The elevator came to a stop, lifting my stomach gently and dropping it a moment later. I've always liked that feeling.

"It was nice to meet you, Ryan from 15," she said.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," I returned as we walked off the elevator and into the cavernous empty lobby. "You know, I have a friend that works on 12," I said hoping to hold her attention just a little longer. "His name is Ben Shepard. Do you know him?"

She paused for a moment, searching for my dear friend Ben under her chestnut tresses. "Yes, I know who that is. He's one of the good ones in my office."

"If you don't mind my asking, are you the new VP Ben was talking about?," I asked.

"I must be," she said.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you have a fearsome reputation," I said. "Efficiency isn't usually popular with the floaters in the office, I find."

Her beautiful face darkened like a midnight storm, and I knew I had to break her. Hearing her power had been sullied by the plebs didn't sit well with her.

"I'm the grim reaper to people who waste time and money," she said. "My bosses are always thrilled with my work, and my teams."

"I have no doubt," I replied. "I am in a similar situation, actually. I was brought in to bring strict discipline to an office full of madness and egos. My whip brought them all to their knees and under my full control. Everyone left is performing at their absolute best. I believe in everyone having their role to play, and I make sure they play it very well."

The storm passed and a gleaming ray of moonlight streamed across her face. My words had the effect I hoped they would.

"Do you enjoy your role, Ryan? The whip cracker?" She asked. "Does it ever bother you that the people under you might not want to play their role the way you want them to? Maybe they see themselves in a different role and you're getting in their way."

"I enjoy my whips very much," I said, locking my eyes on hers. "I can tell what role best suits a person in an instant. It would be foolish to just put poeple where they don't belong just because I'm their boss. I put them in positions to maximize their potential."

"You sound like a man that knows what he's doing," she replied, bringing me into a position to strike. I just needed one last thing from her.

"What role would you give me, Ryan, if I was in your office?"

There it was. She has slipped across the threshold and into my wheelhouse.

"A woman of your reputation would be a major asset to my office, Clarice," I began. "However, you too would be made to kneel before I could properly define your role. You are much too accustomed to having the power, and that power belongs to me."

Those beautiful, minute signals I know and love flowed across her features like a ballet in the stars. I had touched all the right places in her mind like the wing of a swallow brushing against her darkest desires."

"That sounds..."

"That sounds like we will talk tomorrow at lunch, Clarice," I said, closing my jaws on her throat and claiming her as my own. "Meet me at The Lex tomorrow for lunch at 10:30. It's a wonderful restaurant on Jarvis. We'll beat the lunchtime crowd."

I watched her slow realization wander across her face. It hovered for a moment on uncertainty, but moved smoothly on to desire and acceptance.

"Repeat it back to me, please, Clarice," I said, smiling, savouring the gift she was about to give me.

"The Lex on Jarvis, 10:30 tomorrow," she said, filling me with the deep satisfaction of a successful hunt.

"Perfect," I said. "I'm looking forward to it. Goodnight."

Her lips parted slightly like she was going to say something, but she caught herself. She smiled like sunlight through the leaves of a big old tree and said, "Goodnight, Ryan."

I smiled back, savouring her for another moment, and turned to go. I don't know for certain, but unless the sound of her high heels were drowned out by passing traffic, she stood and watched me go.