tagBDSMSeven Days of Service - Day 04

Seven Days of Service - Day 04


Seven Days of Service – Day Four

* * * *

Thursday morning, and promptly at 10:00 a.m. my visitor strode through my office door, locked it and marched up to the front of my desk. Only four days into our period of service demanded, service provided, and this had already become a ritual.

Unknown to her however, I lusted for this moment. The vision of her beautiful body, bared before me in submission, was intoxicating. Her power over me in submission was stronger than any arrogance she ever displayed before me in the past, a fact that I was determined to hide from her.

As she opened her blouse for my inspection and lifted her skirt to display her obedience to my instructions, my cock obediently rose to worship at the altar of her beauty, although she was unable to see it right now, tucked beneath my desk out of sight.

However, in the guise of humiliating her further, I knew I had to taste her once more. Directing her around my desk to my side, I motioned her to lift her skirt again, exposing her damp sex to me.

As I watched her face, I noted that she no longer shut her eyes or bit her lips at my request. Instead, she was looking directly into my eyes, as though she was now expecting what was about to happen next. Reaching between her thighs, I slowly drew my hand across her vagina, soaking my fingers in her arousal, and reaching back up to my mouth, I slowly licked her essence from my hand. This was becoming a compulsion, an awkward one at that.

I dismissed her, reminding her that our staff meeting was about to take place, hoping that she'd remembered my instructions from the night before. Closing my door at her departure, I sat back into my chair and tried to compose myself. I didn't have enough time to jerk-off before the meeting, so I had to get my shit together so I wouldn't embarrass the lot of us.

As the senior manager, I sat at the head of the conference room table, with Cathy sitting on my right as assistant manager. Our project leads were arranged down the table on each side as they reported to us; hers on her side, mine on my side.

Her powerhouse was Sonia, a woman as strong and as testy as Cathy. She was now on my project, I suspected, because their infamous spats had finally driven Cathy to dump her into my project to get rid of her. What she hadn't anticipated however, was her own assignment into my project as well.

The other assigned lead from her department was a rather nerdy young man by the name of Arthur—not Art—but Arthur. I was considered gifted in math when I was in college and beyond, but he dwelt in a land of his own making, often bewildering those about him who tried to understand his complex calculations. But those who took the time to decipher his cryptic comments were amply rewarded with amazing insight into the management of their project. He was difficult, but not impossible.

Nervously, I watched carefully as the meeting launched into full swing. Cathy sat by my side as my project managers began discussing the parameters of the list that they'd been presented. They were used to my style and had a free and open brainstorming session as I sat back quietly and observed.

Cathy's leads simply sat back and watched her, not willing to offer anything of substance to the meeting. Cathy on the other hand, appeared to have listened to my instructions and was paying attention to the comments floating about the table, and taking notes as I'd instructed.

Once in a while I saw her tense up as if to say something, but a glance from me silenced her, and she jotted down more notes. Every now and then, I saw her scratch out something and add more. I was interpreting that as changing her mind, a good thing in a collective discussion.

As the meeting progressed and her silence continued, her project leads began to become a little braver, offering suggestions of their own to counter or complement those of their peers. They still stole a look at their manager from time to time, as if to expect some sort of retribution for their audacity. Still, Cathy managed to retain her composure.

Finally, everything wound down to a standstill, and the project leads looked to us for comments. Nodding to Cathy, I encouraged her to address her team, and to my relief she began the summary with a compliment to the team for their input, and described a perfectly sensible composite of everyone's suggestions for working the next stage of the project.

My leads were completely comfortable with the way the meeting had gone, but I noticed that hers were a little suspicious regarding the way things had turned out. Hopefully, they would have an opportunity to get used to this process, as Cathy and I continued her "sensitivity training." Things were moving along rather quickly now.

After the meeting finished, I slipped off for a long lunch hour to pick up the items on the latest list that Hattie had passed to me the night before. These items I was a little less comfortable with, and when I returned to my office, I spent a considerable amount of time on-line looking up information on their purpose and use.

Finally I was convinced that I might be able to move into this new area of bondage with a fair degree of confidence and resolved to try one of them out that evening. Sending a note to Cathy to prepare another meal for two at my home this evening as usual, I reminded her that all current conditions remained the same.

The day went by fairly quickly and once again I took an opportunity to return home a little early to prepare for the evening ahead. I was still a little concerned about the use of the new items, but resolved to give them a try one at a time, to see what kind of response they'd elicit from Cathy. I was hoping that my edginess wasn't going to show through this evening.

As before, I'd just finished dressing from my shower when the doorbell rang. As if I were about to answer a curtain call, I composed myself and let Cathy in, securely locking the door as she passed into the living room. This time she didn't bother checking whether I was going to continue our venue or not, simply removing her clothing as she headed for the kitchen.

I wandered in after her, and after assuring myself that she was having the same effect on me as she usually did, I returned to the living room to wait until she was done with our meal. It soon occurred to me that I'd be missing some pretty fine cooking when this service period was over, as well as the superb visual treat of her deliciously sensual body moving about my home.

Dinner was called and proved to be yet another excellent presentation. I remarked to Cathy that she'd done a really bang-up job during the entire day, and that it'd been a long, long time since I'd eaten meals as fine as she'd cooked up in my house for us. This was the first time that I'd actually complimented her on her cooking, and I could see that the praise was well received.

I had continued to pointedly examine her physical attributes during the dinner as well, and she had begun to unconsciously pose her body in subtle ways to display herself to her best advantage, while trying to maintain a semblance of aloofness by frowning at me in disapproval.

Instead of giving her instructions this time, I simply got up from the table, excused myself and returned to the living room to see what she would do.

It was a very few minutes later when she sauntered back into the living room with a couple of cold brews in her hand. Stopping in front of me, she offered me one, then just backed off a half step and waited for me to begin our little 'exercise'.

As I sat there on the couch, things remained pretty much as they had the first couple of nights. Me with my traitorous erection directed at her; her standing before me naked except for a velvet collar around her neck, and each of us with a long neck in our hand. She glanced over at the blindfold and the handcuffs sitting on the end table of the couch, a question in her eyes. In a moment, my dear, I thought.

I missed this view all day today, so I was in no hurry to wander into riskier parts of my plan for tonight. Besides, we both needed a few minutes to finish our beers. While we were doing just that, I asked Cathy how she happened to acquire her marvelous skills in the kitchen, which I assured her were considerable.

A dark cloud came over her face, and she took in a deep breath. I got the feeling that I'd pulled another scab from one of her personal sores, but it was a question that was too late to retract. This gal was proving to be more complex than I'd originally assumed.

"It was another one of my father's backup plans for me in case my current career plans went to hell." she began. "His deal with me was two years of culinary school, fully paid for. If I completed that successfully, he'd foot the bill on my four year degree plan in marketing. He was so sure that I wouldn't make it in marketing that he forced me to pack a 'girlie' parachute before I even started," she continued bitterly. "What he didn't know was that I was one of only four women in a class of 85 students in culinary school."

We both took another pull on our longnecks, looking at each other carefully. "It would appear that he cared for you very much, Cathy, despite his rather old-fashioned, chauvinistic outlook on life. He didn't have to do any of that for you, did he?" The look on her face right now showed a very conflicted woman, and I was thinking carefully about how to change that to the positive.

Finishing up our beers, we were ready for the exercise, or at least I was. I got up, took the blindfold from the table and secured it snugly around her head. Then, picking up the handcuffs, I secured her arms behind her back once more. This time she was a little bit less resistant to my efforts and soon we were both standing still, her blind and secure, and me full of doubt and apprehension.

Checking that she remembered 'the safe' words once again, I leaned into the side of her face and asked, "Do you remember who you belong to during this service period?"

She nodded her head and whispered, "You."

"Do you still trust me?" I asked.

Again, nodding her head she softly replied, "Yes . . . Sir." My next question was a little bit more misleading, although she didn't know it yet.

"You know of course, that I have to taste you once more." I said. I was watching her face very closely as I told her this, and I thought I saw a fleeting smile pass across her lips. At the same time, I noticed that she'd absentmindedly moved her feet apart, probably anticipating my usual method of collecting her vaginal juices.

Instead, I pulled the instrument from my little shopping bag that I intended to test this evening. Looking it over, I admired the craftsmanship of the braided leather strips decorating the eight inch handle, and the cluster of white horse-hair that extended from it for another 12 inches. Both Hattie and my own research had described this instrument as a "warm-up" device for other activities, and that it represented a 'token' instrument of punishment.

Its claim to sexual fame was its ability, when applied gently, of increasing the sensitivity of the skin wherever it landed, causing a tingling, or itching sensation that can be quite maddening unless relieved. I understood now why Hattie had instructed me to use the blindfold on Cathy before exposing the whisk for use.

Reaching out with my left hand I gently caressed her breasts, noting with pleasure that her nipples immediately hardened into tight little bullets. Squeezing each one in turn, Cathy gave out a most satisfying moan, which told me that she was getting into her 'groove'. Moving downward, I dragged my fingernails lightly across her abdomen, watching her muscles reacting to my touch, rippling and rolling in response.

Finally I stepped back, and began to review our workday with Cathy, much to her surprise. I reflected on her conduct at the meeting this morning and congratulated her on her composure throughout, and her excellent summation at the finish. "What do you think of your staff now?" I asked her.

Surprisingly, I saw a little sneer cross her lips, and she blurted out, "They got lucky this time, that's all."

She was too damn smart for this kind of bullshit I thought. Something else was at work here. I brought the whisk down on her left nipple with a little flick of the wrist. She jumped as though she'd been bitten by a snake, but without realizing what had just happened she just called out, "Scott?"

"You're all right, Cathy, but I think you've missed the point about the exercise this morning at that meeting. You're the one who got lucky, but you just can't seem to see it." I replied.

"You had the advantage of the collective knowledge of our consulting staff at your disposal during that meeting, and you remained silent so that they could lay it out in front of you, for your analysis. At that point you were risk-free.

I saw you taking notes during the discussion, and I also saw you making changes to those notes as the discussion wore on. You were doing what you were trained to do; making adjustments, changes, tuning and tweaking the various points of view. You just weren't willing to give credit to your staff or the process once your decision was made."

As I was talking to her, I was brushing the horsehairs across her shoulders, breasts, back and ass. Occasionally, I'd give the end of the whisk a little twitch, and send the hairs into a recess with a pop, such as the insides of her thighs, or the back of her knees. She was taking this teasing rather well, jumping at the more vigorous snaps, but overall, just reacting to the touch of the hairs. I'd even dared swish the hairs up into her pussy a couple of times; gently of course, since she had kept her legs parted a bit.

"You have to give something back to the group, Cathy, or it starves. We all depend on feedback, even you, even now." I noticed that she'd begun to squirm a bit, as the effects of the horse-hair whisk on her body began to take effect. I could imagine her skin beginning to itch, to prickle, and her being unable to relieve herself by scratching herself or rubbing the feeling out of her skin.

"We all need the help of someone who can scratch an itch where we can't, and be willing to return the favor. " I continued, "You're good, Cathy, really good, but you could be so much better if you could really develop a team and use them to multiply your own effectiveness at work." As the effect of the whisk began to magnify itself on her sensitive skin, she began to twitch about more and more, trying to find some relief for her dilemma.

"What's the matter Cathy?" I asked her, "Do you need someone to help you scratch an itch?"

Hunching her shoulders forward she shook herself in a vain attempt to relieve the sensations now overwhelming her tits. She was able to get some relief from the sensations now crawling around behind her knees by rubbing the top of her feet up and down the back of her legs, and I allowed her that. The front of her body however, she couldn't reach with her arms secured behind her back and I knew that the extreme sensitivity of her nipples, and eventually her pussy would prove to be an impossible torment for her.

I asked her again if she needed some assistance, and this time I got a reply. "Please," she begged. "Make this torture go away, I really can't stand it much longer."

That the whisk was having a sexual effect on her was obvious from the volume of vaginal fluids that were now beginning to trickle down the insides of her thighs. The musky smell of her arousal was building as well, and my own effect from it was getting a little intense. Something had to give, and give quickly.

"If you want me to make this go away, you must allow me to taste you Cathy. You know that." I replied. As ridiculous as this sounded to me, to Cathy's severely agitated mind right now, it seemed to make sense, so she quickly gave me the answer I was hopeful I'd hear.

"Taste me, then," she cried. "Just make this go away!"

Setting the horse-hair flogger on the end table, I moved around to the front of her, watching her writhe a bit more before I reached out with both hands and filled each with one of her breasts. Squeezing and massaging them in my hands, I could sense the relief sweeping over her body, and the familiar moaning coming from her throat caused the blood to begin pounding in my temples once more.

To seal my deal, I stopped for a moment and said, "I scratch your itch—you scratch mine, right?" Feeling me pause, Cathy quickly agreed. "Yes, yes, yes—just don't stop!"

I continued to pinch her nipples between my fingers for a few moments, but then I dropped my face to her chest and took her left nipple in my mouth, another first in our contest. I was indeed tasting her now. Perhaps not in the way she expected, but then this whole exercise was filled with the unexpected, for both of us. As I nibbled and sucked my way about her sweet breast, I was rewarded with deep groans of pleasure and relief from my lovely captive.

Captive I thought? We were both captive to this game right now, neither of us winner or loser. I needed this woman right now just to live, as she did me. Right now I was living for the moment, pressing her soft breast as deeply in my mouth as I could, and nipping at her most sensitive nipple. A moment later I was attending to the comfort and relief of her other breast. All the while, Cathy whimpered and cooed in delight.

As I took advantage of her need for relief from the effects of the flogger, I couldn't help but notice that she kept rubbing her thighs together, now seeking relief from the torment between them. If there was ever a chance to tear through yet another barrier between us, now was the time.

Releasing her breasts, I took her by the shoulders and moved her back into the overstuffed chair next to my couch. Once the back of her legs bumped into it, I gently prompted her to sit, and drew her ass to the very edge. Her arms were still secured behind her and her blindfold was still snug on her face, so she didn't anticipate my next move.

Kneeling before her—not in submission—I put my hands between her thighs and urged them outward. Resisting at first, Cathy soon gave in to my persistence and I made a space between her legs wide enough for me to fit myself into. Grasping her calves with my hands, I bent her legs upwards and out, and plunged my face into her hot, very wet cunt. It was all I'd dreamed of, and more.

I felt no resistance from her as I drank directly from her cup of ambrosia, moving my tongue freely along and between the petals of her vagina, tasting it all, and relishing it all. Pushing my tongue as deeply as I could into her pussy, I tasted her core and was absolutely entranced. If she'd had her wits about her right now, she could have claimed my soul. Bound or not, she still managed to move her hips into and around my face, ensuring maximum contact between her sex and my face.

Her first climax grew from my first contact with her clitoris, gentle but firm. I could feel it moving through her lovely body; first a tremble, then a thundering shudder ran through her hips. She brought her knees together against my head, trapping me between her thighs. I was in no hurry to pull away, so I continued to drink my fill of this woman while firmly in her grip and as the spasms died down, I was determined to extend this moment as long as I could.

Giving her a few moments to catch her breath, I stroked her hips and belly, urging her to relax. There was no telling when this moment would ever present itself again, so while I had her under my power I intended to take all that I could. I tried to convince myself that any incidental pleasure I caused to Cathy was . . . well . . . incidental.

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