Office Girl Allison Ch. 16

Office Girl Allison Ch. 16 -- Adele's Night Out, Part III: Ernie & Sheryl

© William D'Ark 2022

This story is considered Not Suitable for Work and meant for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains graphic language as well as numerous sexually explicit scenes and images related to power exchange and exhibitionist-voyeur relationships, including bondage, discipline and sadomasochistic (BDSM) lifestyles that may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexual and/or BDSM activity depicted in this work is presented as expressly consensual between adults. All characters and events are entirely fictional and any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental.

-- -- -- -- --

(Adele narrating)

I was surprised by how strange it felt to stand up straight after being paddled and whipped. The skin across my ass and thighs felt tight, stiff. It seemed to crackle as I walked the room. I wanted to look in a mirror to see why but that would have to wait.

William drew me over to the glass front case. Chained nipple clips were heaped into small piles behind the right side door. He took up a set, cupping one of my breasts and looping thin wire around the nipple. He tightened it with a pull. Ssss... I noised, but he ignored me, looping the other nipple and tugging at that chain too. I could feel a pulse begin in both breasts. He reached back into the case and picked out an inch wide metal collar. Stepping behind me, he fastened the strap tightly around my neck then lifted the chain into a clip dangling from a stainless steel ring in front. The wires twisted as he lifted the chain.

Extra oww...

But causing a familiar warm hum inside my sex. Slut! I called out silently.

The throbbing in my nipples became more intense.

So it doesn't end with being spanked and whipped, I realized.

No... The whole evening was to be an endless flow of sensations, tastes and provocative play... With too many orgasms to count. William seemed to have a thing for endless orgasms in women, forced or not.

Thrilling!...And exhausting.

Before heading downstairs, he opened a compact armoire tucked into an opposite corner of the room. He selected a transparent white tulle robe, hip length, with wide sleeves and a satin sash connected to a flower applique in back. It was darling!

Offering it to me, he teased. 'Sorry but I'm out of this in turquoise.'

Smiling wryly in return, I slipped it on and tied the sash if front. Loosely, of course, so he could see. A part of me was wanting him to see. To study my body and approve. I wanted him to know that I was being a good girl that way. But...full surrender? To anything he wanted, whenever he wanted it? He would have to earn that.

I would hold out as long as I could.

'Does it come with matching panties?' I asked.

We both laughed.

----------

William was fast in the kitchen.

I sat at the island again with the kitchen lights on bright and no window coverings. I was learning not to care about being on display like that. He brought out a broad wooden board and began to sort through the refrigerator. Various cheeses came out, quickly sliced and arranged in rows with fruit scattered in between along with sliced veggies and cherry tomatoes. Yum. He brought out a shallow pot and half-filled it with a fragrant gravy-looking liquid, lighting the gas burner below. He cut Kalamata olives into very thin slices. A portion of the Kroger ground beef became small meat balls seasoned with diced onions and what I learned was an Indonesian spice, sambal oelek. 'For my tapenad,' he explained, only I had to ask what that was too. He sliced the olive bread too, placing strips in a bowl on an empty corner of the board. Picking another bowl from the glass front cabinets, he filled it with the spicy-hot, meatball rich olive spread. Stone wheat crackers went into a third bowl. 'In case the tapenade is too spicy,' he explained.

My antennae began to quiver. 'People?' I asked.

William looked up with a smile, pulling a bottle of champagne from the 'fridge.

'Let's take this to the study,' he said.

I followed behind meekly, worried this was going be like one of those evenings with my ex years before--where I was nothing more than a plaything passed around from person to person, distasteful people I didn't know and didn't care to ever see again. But Roman, my ex, never dressed me so nicely. He never prepared treats for guests--I was the only menu item--and he lacked champagne tastes from the beginning.

But what else could this be about tonight?

----------

William's study was unlike anything I had seen. In the far corner of the room stood an expandable oak-leaved table supporting two large computer monitors and a laptop surrounded by stacks of papers. Scattered coffee cups and desktop organizers holding files, computer discs, pens and sticky notes lay between the stacks. I spied a wooden basket overflowing with binoculars, a digital camera and various black nylon bags filled with who knew what. His desk was a singularly messy spot in an otherwise organized and interesting house.

Across from the desk, one entire wall had been dedicated to erotic or pornographic art, everything from abstract representations of women's bodies to framed drawings and artsy photographs of men and woman engaged in any kind of sex act you could imagine. Huge cocks were on display, all of them either being held, licked, sucked or buried deep in wide open pussies. Women in bondage held their breath, awaiting some uncertain sadomasochistic fate. Other women were shown expressing sheer orgasmic bliss captured at the moment of release by some photographer fortunate enough to have been present. It was as if the wall itself was dripping semen and girl-cum--so much so, I sniffed the air for a hint of recent fucking.

A long narrow day bed was pushed up against the lower part of the wall, topped with two comfy looking pillows. I imagined that with a quick twist of a wrist the bed could be moved out from the wall. Naked bodies would drape themselves across the bench, engaging in the same mix of salacious rituals the art encouraged.

I could feel my pussy tingling, overwhelmed as I was by so much towering raw sexuality.

'Do you know any of these people?' I asked William breathlessly.

'Some of them. The photographers and artists too. Everything carries a memory.'

If that was true William must have lived as his lifestyle advocated--absorbed in... oozing... radiating sexual energy and pleasure pain options. How he found time to be successful at his job was a wonder.

My pussy was pulsating....Some of those cocks were... And the gorgeous, inviting women were... And the ropes, blindfolds, clips and, okay yes, even the savage looking marks on all that soft skin... It was all immensely carnal. Voluptuous. Animalistic. Yet...something else too. Something I couldn't put my finger on. Something... elevating. My body was buzzing with it, whatever it was, head to toes, with nipples pounding to match my heartbeat.

I didn't want to let on the effect the art wall was having. 'Are you in any of these photos?' I asked, trying to sound demure.

'Several of them,' William grinned. 'You'll have to get to know me better to figure out which ones.'

'Well...Sir...,' I replied, picking at carrot and celery strips from the nearby wooden tray, 'I look forward to it.'

A walnut gun case stood against the far wall. Its glass front doors rippled with age. Shelves had replaced the gun stacks displaying crystalline mineral specimens and eons-old fossils. There were books about nature and the environment. Books about art, history, mysticism. An occasional framed image leaned against titles I could not see.

'Is this your family tree?' I asked, leaning over one of the shelves so my pussy would show from behind. The lineage showed a dozen generations stretching back maybe three hundred years. 'And this old home? Part of the family story?' It was a painting of some colonial looking two story brickwork, in front of which stood a row of six tall wooden columns painted immaculate white. An ancient oak tree stood guard over the house in front.

'Yes. Lots of stories come with a hobby like that. Genealogy.' He didn't touch the offered vulva, much to my disappointment.

William's cell phone suddenly lit up. He picked it up expectantly, giving a slight smile I enjoyed seeing.

'Allison is saying hello. Sending her nighttime photos.' He paused a few moments, reading. 'Hmm, and telling me something about an adventure you two recently had? At her apartment hot tub?'

I was sucking on a stemmed strawberry, hoping William was watching. 'It was the sauna,' I explained. 'Not the hot tub.' I wiped berry juice from my chin looking intently at the man. 'It was after dinner last week, before Allison's bed time ritual. I can tell you about it.'

The cell phone dinged again. William studied the new text.

'I want to hear the story but not now,' he said. 'We have guests arriving.' He handed his phone to me.

'This is Sheryl,' he explained.

----------

(William Narrating)

Ernie and Sheryl were lifestyle acquaintances living in Fresno, about two hours away. They had been referred to me by a common friend living in the Bay Area. When interviewing Ernie about his interests, he told me he wanted to be trained as a dominant. He explained that his wife Sheryl supported the idea but was curious about what it might do to their marriage. She was not keen on the idea of becoming part of a 'sex ring', according to Ernie; she had been reading stories about how submissives were groomed to become sluts. Although she enjoyed the few things she and Ernie had tried in recent months--tying her to the bed, for example, or blindfolding and spanking her--she was unsure about doing anything more violent or sexual. Ernie wanted to learn how to bring her into more bold kinds of play.

It caused me to wonder why Sheryl had focused on just those two aspects of power exchange. As a possible submissive...

I suggested a meeting to talk about how the lifestyle could become a holistic relationship. I asked Ernie to send photos of his wife so I would have some idea of what she looked like. I also explained what would be expected if we got together. Sheryl was to wear a simple, sensual dress, I told him. She should expect open conversation about sex, body parts, past experiences and sexual fantasies. No topic was off limits or out of bounds. Ernie would need to be okay with my touching Sheryl if the opportunity arose. Or my encouraging him to show me how they interacted. The meeting would help me decide whether I could groom them as a couple or whether he should look for find another trainer.

Ernie agreed, so I arranged the meeting to coincide with Adele's first session at my house. Her presence would give Sheryl a picture of what real lifestyle submission looked like. And Adele's submission, her sexuality... well, she could help take the meet-up in any direction I wanted it to go.

I didn't tell Ernie about Adele. Nor Adele about Ernie and Sheryl. I was going to choreograph everything in real time based on how people reacted to each other and where the conversations would lead.

'This is Sheryl,' I explained to Adele, showing her the cell phone photo Ernie sent. 'She and her husband will be here soon.' I took Adele by the hand and walked towards the front of the house carrying the bottle of champagne, pausing to take four glasses from the hallway buffet. I sat Adele on the living room couch while fidgeting with the champagne cork. It popped! I filled her glass, then my own, sitting down beside her. Adele drained half her glass at once.

'Ernie and Sheryl are here to talk about my training them in lifestyle ways,' I explained. 'This will give you a chance to see how I behave as a dominant with other people around. And you'll learn more about what I expect from a submissive woman. You will also learn what I expect other doms to learn and practice. While they are here you will be silent and follow my lead as the evening unfolds. Everything will be presumed consensual unless one of them objects to my guidance.'

'Am I going to fuck them?' Adele asked pensively.

I refilled her glass.

'Maybe,' I replied. 'But more likely you will simply serve them.' I sipped some champagne. 'Do you know the difference between sex and service?'

'Sex is fucking. A cock or a toy in my cunt or ass.'

'Yes.' I rested an elbow on the back of the couch.

'Service is anything from offering food and drink to cleaning up after people.'

'Also correct.'

'And you're going to tell me that oral sex is not sex, it's just a service. Like cleaning up is.'

'The Bill Clinton argument, yes.'

'It's a service like at work... building computer files, talking to clients, keeping my desk straight. Or yours.' She peered at me through her glass, sucking more of the bubbly.

'Correct again.'

'That's how we can have sex at the office but not really have sex there. Cause a blow job or Allison going down on me in the women's locker room is not sex in the first place. It's a service.'

I refilled her glass with a nod. 'You understand it all very well.' But I knitted my brow at the same time. 'Has that happened, by the way? With Allison?'

She ignored my question, asking instead, 'Will I be serving other people in the office like that?'

'Time to time, yes,' I replied. 'People have already had such service from Allison.'

Her eyes got wide. 'Realyyy...'

'Mike,' is all I needed to say. He was our section chief.

'What about our clients?'

I paused... tapping my finger on the back of the couch. The pause was pregnant enough for savvy Adele.

Fingers stroking her bottom lip, she looked into the distance offering her glass for another refill. 'The plot thickens, William,' she said with a grin.

'No more champagne for now. Our guests have arrived.'

----------

Ernie was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a blue work shirt typical of the Fresno crowd. He was about forty year's old, medium height and weight, dark close cut hair with a friendly face and affable manner. Black frame glasses perched across his nose. His younger wife was also medium height, lean with dark brown hair falling loose across her shoulders. Slipping out of a button front sweater, she revealed a sort of apricot colored lounge dress; a backless split-hem halter, tied at the neck with a big looping bow. Although the polyester fabric wasn't sheer, it was thin enough to show small stiff nipples tipping breasts that were shaped and sized like Adele's--that is, soft round handfuls. The dress's back line swept low, curving below her spine, inviting hands to slip inside where it gaped a bit and where the bodice allowed side boob views. The side slits rose up her thighs giving hints of a tempting, rounded bottom just beneath.

Well done, Sheryl, I thought.

I invited them to sit on the couch Adele and I had occupied while we two sat in side chairs across the floor.

The couple said nothing about Adele's presence, or even the magnificent see through nothing-robe I had given her to wear. However... they could hardly keep their eyes off of the nipple nooses and chains dangling from Adele's breasts, looping up high to the cold steel collar around her neck.

She looked the perfect slut-slave, Adele did. Sitting there quietly, attentively, showing acres of barely covered skin, champagne glass in hand.

'Adele is here for training. It's our first session together' I explained, gesturing at her. 'This way you will have a real world impression of what submission is like.'

'Those look like they hurt,' Sheryl said, eyeing the nipple dressage.

Adele looked at me for permission to speak.

'Go ahead,' I said.

'The wires are tight but I'm getting used to them,' she said. 'William put them on after my punishment... what, Sir, an hour ago?'

I looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Quarter to ten. 'Almost,' I replied. Looking at the couple I asked, 'Would you like to see them up close?'

Ernie nodded enthusiastically while Sheryl said, 'No thank you.'

I laughed at the split decision. 'Let them see,' I told Adele.

She walked across the room untying the silk sash as she went. She opened it wide in front of Ernie, slowly pirouetting side to side on the balls of bare feet. Neither one could resist studying Adele from lips to nipples, from smooth flat tummy to beguiling pussy. Sheryl swallowed hard while Ernie's eyes glimmered.

'Would you like to touch her?' I asked Ernie. 'The wires need to come off now. It's been long enough.' Ernie looked at Sheryl as if asking permission to touch Adele's breasts. That was not a good sign of Ernie's dominance, I thought.

I cut to the chase. 'Sheryl, is it alright with you if Ernie helps out here?'

'What punishment?' Sheryl asked, turning the conversation.

I hesitated. Although Adele's markings would soon enough be noticed, Sheryl was going straight to the core of her... concerns. Or interests. Maybe concern and interest was the same thing. Alright, let's go with it I decided.

'Let them see,' I said again to Adele.

This time the pirouette went all the way around. She paused so the couple could study the colorful butt bruises and welty thigh stripes showing hints of blood.

'That looks like it really hurt,' Sheryl said, reaching out as if to touch.

Adele turned back around, taking a half step closer to Sheryl. 'It really did,' she admitted. 'But I needed to be punished. I misbehaved by lying to William about the way I dressed for work a couple of weeks ago.'

This admission perked my interest. Sheryl sipped her champagne in silence.

'And one other thing,' I offered.

'Oh yes,' said Adele, still looking at Sheryl. 'Because I wore panties and a bra when I came here tonight. That's not allowed and I knew it.'

'What's not allowed?' asked Ernie.

'She can't be seen wearing underwear,' Sheryl interrupted, looking at me. 'She has to show her tits and pussy. It's a dress code thing isn't it?'

'Adele can explain,' I answered.

She parted the filmy silk cloth, running fingers over her body. 'My breasts, not tits, are too pretty to cover up. My nipples need to be seen so people remember that a woman's body is real, just like a man's. And so they are tempted to touch me.' She backed away and parted her legs. 'My sex is the same way. I've been brought up to hide it, to ignore it most of the time. But it's so beautiful... And it's important for people to see that part of my body too. So they can remember where they came from, a woman's womb. So they learn to accept and honor a woman's sex instead of cheapening it. And so they want to touch her there too. Touch me, I mean.'

She stepped closer to the couple. 'I want to be used there. I want to give people pleasure and I want them to make me cum. I've always wanted that, from when I was younger till now. But I was mistreated growing up and by my ex-husband. People took advantage of me. William is showing me there is another way to have as much pleasure as I want, whenever I want it, with whoever I want. So long as I have his approval before it happens.'

I admit to being impressed by Adele's explanations. Short and to the point but absolutely accurate--at her level of understanding. But I wondered if she really embraced those ideas or was just parroting what she had heard me say.

'I wear a bra to work because I have to. William is showing me there are ways to remind people about my breasts and nipples, by just barely covering them up. The secret is in choosing what to wear. I never wear panties anymore, even to work. People sometimes see my pussy. It's an invitation for sex, of course, for fucking. People know that at some level. It adds excitement to things.'