Executive Orders (closed for Momadness)

anythingulike_69

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"Everett!"

The shrill, demanding tone of voice alone was enough to send interns scurrying around the outer offices of NewsBeat magazine, wide-eyed winces all around as each scrambled to look busy. It sounded like the clock was already ticking on the latest in a long line of executive assistants to Ms. Samantha Noelle, Editor-in-Chief, and no one else was eager to step into her sights.

Office door flinging open, Samantha strode quickly out to her assistant's desk, noting the empty seat behind it. Glancing around with a glare, she pointed a long, perfectly manicured finger at the first person she saw. "You!" she demanded, "Gina!"

The girl ducked her head, seeming to shrink in on herself. "Joanna, Ms. Noelle, " she murmured.

"What?" Samantha stared down at the girl.

"Y-yes, Ms. Noelle?"

"Where the hell is Everett?"

"You sent him to track down the Sanderson research for you, ma'am. Remember? He left about an hour ago."

"Fine. Take these to Carol in Accounting," she plopped a file folder into the girl's open hands, "this to Bob Jackson down on the third floor," another file, "this one to Susan Richards in HR," another file, "and this one needs to be on Sam Ryan's desk. NOW!" She tossed the final file onto the pile and turned to stride back to her office without even looking , high heels clicking across the floor.

"Any person who steps foot in my office for the rest of today will be spending tomorrow in the unemployment line!"



When she finally looked up from the paperwork on her desk, the outer offices were dark and quiet, and she realised several hours had passed, but her frustration had not eased. She stood and walked over to her private bathroom. Quickly washing her hands, she paused a moment to study her reflection. "No, Samantha, this has got to stop. You are not going to do this."

She could feel her nipples tighten, puckering, and the tiniest little throb in her clit.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered again, even as she lifted her arms to release her long chestnut curls from the tight twist she wore it in to cascade freely down her back. Shaking her hair loose, her fingers moved quickly of their own accord to work the tiny buttons of her silk blouse open, dropping it off her shoulders. No one would have guessed at the sheer lace and satin cincher she wore underneath, binding her waist tightly, exaggerating the round swell of her hips.

Samantha slipped her bra off, tugging her nipples up before letting her breasts bounce back down. Though naturally heavy and looking even larger on her slight frame, they were still full and rounded, with perfect, dusky rose nipples standing proud and pointed.

Reaching behind her back, she slid the zipper on her skirt down, and with a small shimmy of her hips, let the skirt fall to the floor. Left standing clad only in her heels, cincher and matching lace panties, Samantha scowled at the dark chocolate eyes of her reflection. "One day this is going to go horribly wrong," she warned herself before turning to the small closet stocked with toiletries, towels, a clean suit and a small locked chest.

That risk would not stop her now. Not when the need was already flaring. That risk was part of the thrill. The risk of discovery, of potential humiliation, of being at the complete mercy of whomever might discovery her, was the reason playing like this was so much more satisfying in her office.

"Still," she muttered, picking up the locked box and carrying it into her office and setting it on the small end table next to the long leather couch, before going to lock her office door with a quick click. "There's risky and then there's downright stupid."

Striding back to the seating area, she settled on the couch, gasping slightly at the momentary shock of cool leather against her heated skin. Unlocking the box, she opened it and pulled several small items out and headed back into the brightly lit bathroom. Setting the pile on the small vanity, Samantha lifted a butter-soft black leather collar and reached up to buckle it snugly around her throat. Two delicate chains hung from a ring at the collar front, ending in a pair of nipple clamps. Leaving the chains dangling loose between her breasts for the moment, she ran her fingers over the soft leather and gave the ring a sharp tug, feeling an answering throb in her core.

Next came the ring gag, buckled tight, forcing her mouth wide open, doing nothing to muffle her soft moan.

Samantha stared for a moment, the woman in the mirror so at odds with her usual corporate image. Which was the real Samantha Noelle? Did she even know? Did she want to?

Turning away from her reflection she picked up the final item from the counter. She pressed the not yet vibrating egg deep into her cunt, already slick with her juices and grabbed up its remote before heading back out to the sofa. Almost ready.

Lastly came out a wide spreader bar with thick leather and chain cuffs at either end. Settling on the low heavy coffee table in front of the sofa, Samantha bent to buckle a heavy leather strap around first her right, then her left ankle, forcing them apart. She glanced at the floor, and then gripped the table under her for a moment. The table was riskier, but riskier meant more helpless, and more helpless meant a faster, more intense climax. She whimpered softly around the gag. More intense was definitely what she needed tonight.

Placing her phone on one end of the short table in case of an emergency, Samantha climbed up to kneel on the other end. Fondling her breasts and tweaking her nipples for a moment, she lifted each of the chains on her collar in turn and tightened a clamp around each of her nipples with a shuddering groan.
Her clit throbbed, only the spreader bar keeping her from pressing her thighs together. Bending low, the pale globes of her ass now lifted high, she secured the hand with the vibrator remote into the cuff next to her left ankle. Keys clenched tight in her fist, she twisted and closed the last cuff around her free wrist.

Fully bound. Helpless.

Samantha pressed the remote and the vibrator buzzed to life. Her entire body shook, straining against the tight leather hold. Her eyes clenched shut, forehead pressing against the table. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Too much. She panted, writhing, shuddering . Too fast. Can't…

She fumbled with the remote, but it was too late, the first climax slamming into her as she clenched and cried out, fingers spasming futilely as she dropped both the remote and keys.

Before the shuddering had even settled, the relentless vibration was already pushing her toward the edge again. Phone. Thank god she'd keyed in her emergency message before she started. All she had to manage was to send it.
She whimpered, hips bucking of their own accord, juices trickling down her thighs as she stretched impossibly toward her phone, pressing her chin against it. She barely heard the soft chime of a message sent at the same moment as another climax exploded through her, ripping a cry from her throat.

Her body jolted, sending the phone skittering to the floor, but it didn't matter. The message was sent to her best friend and bondage mentor. "Emergency at my office. I need the help only you can give." Evie would understand exactly what that meant.

Samantha moaned, fighting to catch her breath as the vibrator continued to buzz, once again pushing her higher and higher. She glanced over the edge of the table at her phone, looking for Evie's affirmative response. Only the name flashing on her phone, the name she just sent her emergency message to, was somehow not Evie's but Everett Johnson, her executive assistant's.

She was bound, helpless, exposed and the only help possibly coming for her was… "No, no, no, no, Noooo…" she screamed as the most powerful orgasm yet pounded through her, her body arching and straining against her self-imposed bonds.
 
Samantha gasped in horror, eyes widening impossibly, as she heard the fumbling of a key in her locked office door. She struggled wildly, desperately against the leather straps binding her in place in a last futile effort to free herself before…

"Ms. Noelle, it's Everett. I got your text. Umm... is it decent?"


Oh fuck, nooo. Samantha thrashed helplessly, her horrified eyes meeting the shocked eyes of her executive assistant for a moment before skittering away from his intense stare. She could feel the mortified blush creeping over her skin, even as the weight of his eyes on her somehow intensified the endless vibrations of the egg inside her sending her pussy throbbing into a fresh climax, tearing a fresh, guttural cry from her aching throat.

She kept her eyes clenched tightly shut, her forehead pressed against the table and she shuddered uncontrollably, arching and bucking against the cuffs holding her in place. She panted, gasped, barely aware of Everett's movement around the room, pocketing the key and picking up the remote.

With a barely perceptible click, the vibration abruptly shifted into high gear and Samantha screamed, no longer aware of Everett's movements around the room or what he was doing, her entire focus on fighting back against having yet another shattering orgasm while her assistant watched on.

No, no, nooo. She arched her back, straining desperately, the perfect globes of her ass waving in the air. She barely noticed the tugging on the nipple clamps chained to her collar as she threw her head back with a howl. Not again, not again.

Samantha was only dimly aware when Everett settled on the couch in front of her and leaned close with a wicked grin. "So... what exactly do you want me to do for you... boss."

And suddenly, blessedly, her mouth was free of the gag and the maddening, endless vibrations stopped. Samantha dropped her head against the table once more, eyes clenched shut, gasping for breath. Her entire body still trembled, on the verge of climax and she knew it would take more than a few minutes to settle.

Her mind raced. What to do? How to handle this? She drew in another deep breath. Bluffing and bravado, that's how. She was Samantha fucking Noelle, media darling, news superstar. No matter what it looked like, she had all the power here. She owned Everett's ass. He wanted anchor so bad he could taste it, and all his career plans rested on her good graces.

Samantha ignored the unnerving light behind the lifted brow and wicked grin on Everett's face. It would be gone in a moment.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Everett! You're going to unlock my wrists and get the fuck out if you want any hope of still having a job in the morning."

Everett's smile only widened, and Samantha felt a nervous fluttering in her belly and a matching throb in her clit at the suddenly predatory light in his eyes.

"NOW, Everett!" she demanded in her best Ice Queen voice.
 
Samantha's glare faltered slightly when Everett ignored her command and merely turned to his phone. After a few flicks of his fingers she could hear a video replay of someone gasping and squealing, sounding like bad porn. Shaking her head in quick, desperate denial, she realised with humiliated horror what exactly he was watching seconds before he turned the screen towards her, thrusting it in front of her face.

Everett placed the phone on the couch directly in front of her and walked away, but Samantha could not tear her eyes away from the small screen to watch where he was going or what he might be doing. She could feel the colour drain from her face as she watched herself thrash and moan, straining against the bonds even now still holding her in place.

She couldn't deny she looked incredible, even though the woman shuddering and writhing in the video was less of the Ice Queen Professional Anchorwoman and more desperate sex toy slut than she would want to admit. Hearing the guttural moans and gasping squeals coming from her own throat was making her pussy throb again. Seeing the close ups of her ass waving in the air, the long trails of her pussy cream drooling down her thighs, her bouncing tits and wildly desperate eyes as the camera moved slowly around her was somehow both utterly humiliating and incredibly arousing at the same time.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the video, Samantha's mind raced, her fists clenched. Little bastard thinks he's won, but he doesn't know who he's dealing with!

She twisted her head around, watching Everett saunter back toward her, carrying her discarded panties in his fist.

"Ms. Noelle... no... Samantha... no... not that either. Sammy. That works... if there is one thing you have taught me with your infinite wisdom, it's when you get your hands on a breaking news story, you ride that bitch all the way to the top. It was the key to your success... and thus will be the key to mine. Sammy... your my breaking story."

She struggled ineffectually as Everett wrapped one fist in her hair, wrenching her head back to force the gag back into her mouth. "Nnnnnnn!" Her head dropped down to rest on the table as she panted, struggling to catch her breath, fighting the need curling through her. Somehow, under the humiliation, under the horror, under even the bubbling anger, arousal was simmering. Everett's words, his rough treatment, was intensifying her bondage high.

"I am just thinking about the headline now. America's sweetheart news broadcaster doubles as online porn star. More after this commercial break!"

Samantha whimpered, eyes closed tight, head rocking side to side in denial. She would not lose control. Not of herself and not of this little shit who was clearly forgetting his place. He would have to free her eventually, and as soon as she got her hands on that fucking phone of his, he'd pay dearly!

Everett's hands wrenched her head up again, interrupting her train of thought. She struggled in his hold but could do nothing as he shoved her own panties into her mouth and leaned close to whisper in her ear, "Gina stopped by the research lab with a pile of papers earlier. I noticed one of those papers was meant for HR. So I have to ask... did you really intend on cutting me loose in two weeks? Didn't have the balls to say it to my face?"

Damn right I was cutting you loose, she thought. Should be fucking grateful you were going to get the two weeks, you little bastard! You were getting too good. They were starting to notice upstairs. And Samantha Noelle is the only fucking star around here! That is a lesson you are going to learn.

She watched Everett reach into his pocket and pull out the small remote. He was still talking, but the words washed over her, all her attention on the threat of that remote in his hand. She began to tremble, her head shaking in denial. Dimly aware that he had lifted his phone again, started recording her again, her sole focus was the remote and his thumb wavering over the button.

"No, no, no, no, nooooo!"

Everett flicked his thumb and with a small click and buzz, the egg rattled to life inside her, hammering against her oversensitized flesh, spiralling her higher and higher. The heavy cuffs securing her ankles and wrists prevented any escape, leaving her nowhere to hide, no choice but to buck and writhe and ride the impending wave of yet another violent climax with a wild scream.
 
Samantha was only dimly aware of her surroundings, barely feeling the fist in her hair pulling her upright as she struggled to catch her breath, her submissive headspace washing away with the retreating waves of pleasure as she began to float back down from the orgasmic cloud she'd been floating in.

"Welcome back Sammy. I have to admit shamefully, I have never seen a woman orgasm so completely and intensely as I have just seen in you. It made for some amazingly great footage!"

She drew in a breath, not even sure what answering retort she intended to make when Everett raised his hand to forestall it. To her own shock, she held her tongue, waiting for Everett to speak.

"I hope you are getting the understanding about just how completely, utterly, and hopelessly screwed you are right now. Your very career and your place on the food chain in the global media market could come crashing down hard if you don't watch your P's and Q's right now with me. I would imagine that even those cowed down producers who protect you would have very little recourse but to fire you and blackball you from the industry if they got wind of any of this amazing footage of you.


Samantha didn't speak, watching Everett's smug expression as her head continued to clear. He'd worked for her all this time and he still didn’t have any understanding of who he was dealing with. It was funny really. And it would only make things easier for her. All she needed to do was bide her time. He'd have to release her eventually. And once she had her hands on his phone he lost all the leverage he thought he had.

So in order to protect my career, I am very willing to destroy yours. Neither of us wants our careers destroyed I would imagine, you least of all. So it is time we renegotiate my career here.

Oh we'll renegotiate all right. We'll renegotiate your ass right into fucking intensive care. If not the morgue. You think destroying your career is the worst I can do? Fucking idiot.

Oh... and before you say anything, bare in mind if I don't believe you are being respectful to me or being sincere, you will force me to take this to the next level. Mark my words little cunt, your ass is truly mine. So... what do you have to offer me... slut."

Samantha watched his eyes, the burning glances flicking over her tits. His Adam's apple bobbing with every swallow he couldn't quite hide. She feigned a stretch, tugging at her cuffs a bit, as if unaware of how it made her breasts bounce. She bit her lip with a hiss, watching his focus narrow to her teeth clamping down on her swollen pink lip.

She glanced surreptitiously at his pants, confirming the growing bulge. Men were so fucking easy. Did he think she wouldn't be willing to do whatever it takes? She worked at FOX News for fuck sakes.

Samantha dredged up a suitably tearful expression. "please, Everett. Please undo the cuffs for me. It's been too long. My wrists and ankles are going to be rubbed raw soon." She twisted her wrists, making sure to arch her back and give her tits another swing for him. "I'll do anything you want, Everett. Anything. I'll make sure you get anchor. Just please undo the cuffs."
 
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Everett stepped towards her and Samantha fought back her triumphant grin. Almost too easy. She twisted as much as she was able, lifting the closest cuff as much as she was able to meet his reaching fingers.

Then with an unexpected, quick lunge, Everett gave a sharp tug to her nipple chains, popping one free. Samantha screamed as her freshly freed nipple throbbed, burned with the rush of blood into the abused flesh, too focussed on the pain to struggle against Everett's manhandling her into a new position on her back, finger's wrapped around her throat, holding her in place.

"Giving me anything I wanted will you? Do you really think I am that stupid? I am done with this little game. I told you that if I didn't believe you, I would take this to the next level."

Samantha whimpered, "Ev-…"

The ring gag pushing behind her teeth cut off the plea before she could get it out.

Eyes wide and tear-filled, head shaking frantically, Samantha watched as Everett picked up the dangling clamp and adjusted it before clamping it once more onto her abused nipple. She screamed again, neck arching, her entire body writhing, pulling helplessly against her bonds.

Before his next words could even register, a heavy leather belt slapped down across her tits, sending a blaze of fire down her body. Blow after blow fell and she could feel her blood burning, heating her pale skin to a bright fiery red as the belt marked her soft flesh.

"Noo!" she thrashed desperately, fighting the arousal spiralling through her, carrying closer and closer to the edge. Samantha was no masochist, but somehow Everett seemed to be finding the exact level of punishment that would send her soaring. Has to be a fucking fluke. There was no way this little shit knew what he was doing to her. "Nooo!" She didn't know whether it was a plea for mercy or a denial of her own response.

The belt fell again and again, slapping across her thighs, her belly, her nipples. Samantha bucked desperately, begging behind the gag. One last heavy blow fell across her pussy lips and she couldn't hold back the screaming orgasm any longer.

Drifting back to awareness, she realised Everett was speaking. "…I will let you go... eventually... but not before you beg me for more of this."
She panted softly, watching the belt wave in front of her half-lidded eyes. "So the sooner you beg, the sooner we get to it." He popped the gag free and waited expectantly.

Samantha's mind raced as she flexed her strained jaw and licked her lips. "Ev- Everett," she croaked. After attemping to clear her hoarse throat, she tried again. Compliance and tears hadn't worked. Time to try another tack. She tossed a scornful glare in his direction. "If you think I'm going to beg you for anything, you really are a fucking idiot! You’d better think long and hard before you get yourself in any deeper. I'm willing to overlook what has happened here so far tonight, but game time is over. You are going to undo these fucking cuffs and we are going to go home. You'll keep your job, I'll keep mine, and we need never speak of what has happened here again."

She lifted the spreader bar as much as she was able. "NOW, Everett!!"
 
"I... OWN... Your... ASS!"

Everett's growl echoed through her and Samantha clenched her eyes shut against it. No one fucking owned Samantha Noelle! No one had ever spoken to her in that tone before. She was the one that made the demands. Not the one who submitted.

The sharp tug on her nipple chain brought her focus back onto Everett just as he started to work her clit. Oh fuck, how did he know exactly what her traitorous body needed? She bucked against his knowing fingers, biting her lips to keep the whimpers inside. It was building again and she couldn't fight it, couldn't hold it back. She'd never in her life squirted her climax, but she could feel the dribbling evidence of it pooling under her.

Samantha tossed her head, struggling to catch her breath while fighting against the gag Everett was forcing back into her mouth.

"…let's make better use of that mouth."

She felt her eyes widen, and she struggled, fighting Everett's grip and her own body's betrayal.

He pushed fingers slick with her own juices into Samantha's mouth and she couldn't escape, the strong fist in her hair holding her tightly in place. She pushed against the invading fingers with her tongue, trying to block their entry, but only succeeded in smearing her salty cum across her own lips and tongue.

"I... OWN... Your... ASS!" Everett's words echoed once again in her mind and Samantha squeezed her eyes shut against them, even as she felt her ass twitch in response. She needed to get away from here, away from Everett, before he lead her down a path she might never come back from. She was Samantha fucking Noelle! And she would never bow down to anyone.

"…lick that cum off my fingers... now whore."


Everett's voice rumbled through her, demanding obedience, and before she was even aware of what she was doing, Samantha leaned forward to curl her tongue around his extended fingers.
 
No, no, no! Samantha raged at herself. Hearing Everett praising her as a good girl, calling her his little pet, did NOT cause that flutter of pleased excitement in her belly. She didn't give a flying fuck whether he was pleased, dammit. Or care if he ever praised her again.

She was doing as he asked to lull him into finally freeing her from these fucking cuffs. It had nothing to do with pleasing her m-… Everett.

She curled her tongue around his fingers and lapped softly. His "Good girl," whispering over her, sparking a fresh flutter of pleasure.

No, dammit!

"I think your tongue needs something ... bigger... longer... harder than just these fingers."

Samantha's eyes widened as Everett pulled out his thick cock. Fuck! It was huge. No fucking way! She pulled back slightly, struggling futilely.

She knew she had a talented mouth. She'd sucked a lot of cock at the beginning of her career. But that was a long time ago. These days Samantha Noelle demanded and received oral sex, she didn't offer it.

She groaned, fighting against the fist in her hair, holding her in place as Everett pushed his think cock into her mouth, sliding it over her tongue, Everett's salty flavour replacing her own. She looked up into his eyes, pleading for release.

"I told you I OWN your ass. If you want out of this... eventually... you will do what you are told whore... now suck!"

Samantha moaned around the cock filling her mouth. She swiped her tongue along the underside, flicking it against the head with each thrust. She lapped at his length, pressing her tongue against his slit with a soft hum, letting the soft vibration work its magic.

Everett began to rock faster, deeper, holding her tighter as he fucked her throat in earnest. Samantha struggled gasping and choking for air each time he pulled back, whimpering with each thrust that slammed forward again. She felt Everett tense, his thrusts picking up speed, losing his rhythm and then with a harsh, guttural cry she felt the first splash of his cum spray the back of her throat. He pulled free, fisting his cock, spraying jet after jet in her mouth, across her cheeks, her forehead, finally wiping the last drops in her hair.

She could feel it running down her chin, coating her forehead, dribbling into her eyes, stinging.

Samantha blinked up at Everett, just as his camera phone flashed, adding another photo to his collection.
 
Samantha shuddered, pressing her eyes closed as she dropped her forehead to the table. So close, so fucking close. She lifted her head to watch Everett as he locked the office door and headed to her private bathroom. She couldn't stop the trembling. Everett could have destroyed her entire career in that moment, but he chose not to do it.

Why?

He returned, carrying a towel with him and gently tilted her face up to wipe away the cum stinging her eyes. Softness she'd never allowed before curled in her belly. How did that one simple gesture make her feel so… treasured?

He flashed a series of pictures in front of her. Pictures of her mouth wrapped around his thick cock. Pictures of that same cock fucking her throat. Pictures that made it clear she was not fighting it. That she, in fact, appeared to be enjoying it willingly, eagerly.

NO! She was in control. She was playing along with his little games. She shuddered, his low almost-growling voice washing over her. How had she never noticed his voice before, his strength?

Dammit, no! This urge to do as he asked… as he commanded… was only about earning his trust and gaining her freedom. It had NOTHING to do with wanting to please, with earning his praise.

Right?

"Do you understand me pet?"

Samantha trembled under Everett's intense stare, nodding her head the tiniest fraction. What was he doing to her? When had Everett's voice calling her pet suddenly become so arousing? How did he send throbbing desire curling through her entire body with a single word?

He reached out and removed her gag, "Speak pet."

Samantha stretched her aching jaw and licked suddenly dry lips before inching forward as much as she was able and pressing her lips whisper-soft against Everett's fingers. "Yes, sir, I understand" she murmured, "thank you, sir, for protecting your pet."
 
"Show me your appreciation slut. Fuck that dick. Just lower onto it and it's yours to take. I want you cumming all over my rod! Do as you are commanded... little pet."

Samantha's sopping, swollen pussy spasmed, aching to be filled with something more than that damn toy and Everett's thick cock was right there, ready and waiting but making no move to take her.

She pushed back with a whimper, his cock sliding along her open slit, teasing at her entrance. She strained further, fighting against the cuffs, wanting more, needing more. Her desperate efforts were rewarded by a few inches pressing into her, stretching her wide, teasing her with the promise of the hard fucking she needed but couldn't quite reach.

"please, please, please," she moaned, needing him to help her, wanting him to reach over and grasp her hips and slam into her, fill her empty core with his cock and his cum. "I need…" She arched again, managing another shallow thrust. "I can't…"

Samantha's entire focus was on the cock behind her, rocking her hips, managing what shallow thrusts she could, clenching her pussy around him, hoping to incite Everett to take more. To give her what she couldn't reach.

Then, before she was even aware of what was happening, she rocked back without meeting any resistance. The cuffs, still secure around her wrists, were unclipped from the spreader bar.

With a cry, Samantha pushed back, her feet hitting the floor, her hands grasping at the table for purchase, finally feeling the full length of his hard cock slam into her. She bucked and writhed wildly, fucking herself on his length, gasping and moaning and begging for more. "yes, yes, please, yes". She leaned forward until he was almost completely free and slammed back, taking him to the hilt in a series of savage thrusts. She twisted and rocked, pressing her ass to his hips as she ground against him.

She could feel the thrumming waves of orgasm swelling up, ready to overtake her at any moment as she worked herself on Everett's cock, then… "YES!" A final, trembling scream and Samantha's knees gave way. She twisted and collapsed, leaning against Everett's leg, wrapping her arms around his thigh as she gasped for breath, still shuddering with the aftershocks.

Leaning back, Samantha looked up to meet his eyes, hold his gaze, whispering, "thank you, sir," keeping one hand wrapped around his thigh while the other slowly shifted to the floor.
 
Samantha was lost, torn with confusion and conflicting impulses.

Every time Everett grinned at her with that smouldering heat in his eyes, every time his deep voice rasped "little pet" sent a pulse of pure need straight to her core. His strong hands holding her tight, controlling her every movement, one wrapped around her throat while the other worked her aching nipples, all of it made her weak in the knees, literally.

But at the same time, the hard news anchor inside her, the woman who fought her way to the top, screamed at her to fight back. Samantha Noelle, Ice Queen, didn't let anyone control her. Especially a wet-behind-the-ears executive assistant!

Then Everett's talented hand started working her clit and Samantha could only lean back in his tight hold, eyes screwed shut, panting and moaning as he played her body to perfection. The submissive she'd never even acknowledged deep inside her cried out in pure joy.

She felt his strong arm clamp around her waist, lifting her and carrying her over to the desk and gloried in being at the mercy of his will, his strength. His voice was a deep, steady hum in the background of her awareness, drifting over her without her sorting out any actual words until he pushed her down on the desk, his cock teasing at her, tormenting her with its promise of more without ever quite satisfying her ever-growing, desperate need.

"…always wanted to fuck you at your desk..."

Arching her back, Samantha pushed her hips back to meet Everett's thrust. "YES! Fuck me, Everett." She bucked under him, needing more. "Fuck me hard, dammit! Pound me into the fucking desk, Everett!"
 
Distracted by the cock filling her, Samantha almost missed the question growled into her ear.

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass before?"

When the question percolated through her lust addled brain, she could only stare, her eyes wide with fear. She tugged against his grip, shaking her head. No, No, NO. No one had ever… She'd never let anyone…

She felt his cock slip free and she tensed, fear fighting against her arousal, eating away at it. Her trembling intensified as she felt his cock push between her ass cheeks. Every part of her body clenched, her ass, her eyes, her fists, fighting against the inevitable.

"This is going to happen pet…" And somehow, Everett's confidence, his control, began to flow over her mind, almost drowning out the fear. "please sir," she whispered against the desk, barely breathing the words, "I can't… I've never… please…" She had no idea whether he even heard her words spoken so quietly under his own.

"Loosen up..." She trembled, and yet her tiny hole relaxed just a bit. It seemed as though her body was already learning to obey his commands, even while her mind might object. Tears pooled in her tightly clenched eyes as she cried out and wriggled under his bruising grip, his cock feeling huge as it forced its way further and further into her virgin ass.

Everett gave her no time to adjust before the grabbed hold of the desk and started roughly pounding into her. Each savage thrust of his hips forced a grunting cry out of her, "please, please, please…" As her ass loosened from the hard fucking, her arousal began to build again, the submissive inside her reveling in Everett's control.

"bad... bad girl..."

Samantha whimpered, twisting in his grip, struggling to meet his thrusts, her thoughts narrowing to the climax she was almost reaching. She could be Everett's good girl. She would be Everett's good girl… if he would just let her cum. "please, sir," she squeezed her ass around the thick cock impaling her, milking him with every stroke, "please, I'll be good," she moaned, "please let me cum."
 
Samantha lay still, slowly floating to awareness, utterly exhausted, conscious of little more than the thundering of her own heartbeat in her chest. A slight shift of her leg and she drew in a deep breath, slowly coming to realise that she was no longer shackled to the spreader bar. Keeping her eyes clamped closed, she pressed her knees together, testing her freedom, confirming she had been released.

She shifted again and a sharp twinge deep in her ass brought forth a fresh flood of memories. Everett fucking her ass, taking that last small bit of herself that belonged to her alone and claiming it as his, demanding her submission to his control, to his desires.

She felt a tightness building in her chest. Samantha Noelle, TV Anchorwoman and Ice Queen fighting tooth and nail against the submissive little pet that ached only to please her Daddy.

She felt a blanket settled over her and a warm, wet cloth cleaning her face. Soft strokes so full of gentleness, tenderness and caring. Tears pooled in her eyes and she clenched them tight, fighting against letting them flow, letting him see. She couldn't remember the last time that anyone had taken care of her, treated her with such kindness. Samantha Noelle did not invite or inspire such care. And yet here was Everett, gently washing her, murmuring words of comfort and safety.

She stretched her legs, biting back a moan at the deep ache in her ass. It felt like it was gaping wide, split open. Everett had taken ownership of her body, marked every part of her as his.

She turned her face into his hands, letting the warm cloth soothe her as his soft voice washed over her. Did she dare to risk letting him do the same with her heart?

She opened her eyes to look up into his, tears trembling on her lashes. "Daddy?"
 
Samantha held her position, kneeling on the coffee table, watching Everett leave her office. Her mind was a swirl of turmoil. What the fuck was she waiting for? Him to return? Permission to move. Fuck that.

She jumped off the table and ran to the door, making sure it was locked, then headed for her private bathroom. First things first. A fucking shower.

Flipping on the light, she caught her first glimpse of herself in the mirror. Jesus. Her hair was a cum-matted mess. She had fingermark bruises and the flush of the well-fucked brightening her pale skin. Smears of make-up were left behind where his attempts to wipe her face clean had failed. She couldn’t meet her own sharp gaze, would not acknowledge the sparkle in her warm chocolate eyes.

She turned toward the shower and hissed at the sharp, aching reminders of just how long she'd been bound and how deeply she been fucked. She snorted in wry amusement. So deeply fucked. Literally and figuratively!

Easing into the steaming hot shower, she made quick work of washing her long, wavy hair, letting the hot pulsing water and steam ease her aches, even as it rinsed the last of Everett's cum down the drain.

Afterward, she quickly threw all her toys back into the small chest she'd taken them from and shoved the whole thing back into the small closet where she'd gotten it from. She'd wiped down the table and the desk with quick, efficient moves, holding onto her composure by the thinnest thread.

Dashing down the back stairwell to the parkade, she climbed into her car, already dialling the only person she could call, biting back a sob as the call went to voicemail. "Evie. Emergency. I need your help. Meet me at my place as soon as you can get there." Her voice was cracking and Samantha barely squeezed out a "please" before her throat closed completely.

Samantha had no memory of her drive home, no energy even to be thankful that she actually made it home in once piece. The fog of conflicting emotions only began to clear when she heard a desperate knocking on her door. "Sam? Sam!"

She flung the door open and collapsed into her best friend's arms, with a sob.

"Sam? Jesus, what…?" Evie took quick control, closing and locking the penthouse door and leading Samantha to the nearest sofa. "Shh, shh, shh," she patted Samantha absently, "what happened?"

Slowly, haltingly the story of Samantha's evening spilled out. How her first call for help went astray, how Everett had taken advantage of her helplessness, how he'd taken control and used her. "He has photos, Evie, and video. He could ruin my career, everything I've worked my whole life for. He says he owns me now." She pulled away and sat back. "I don't know what to do. What do I do?"

Evie studied Samantha carefully. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes… no… I don't know!" Samantha shook her head, jumping up and pacing back and forth. "Evie, I've never felt…"

Evie just waited, knowing Samantha needed to work it through. "I've never cum like that in my life," she grinned, rolling her eyes. "I think he actually made me pass out."

"But?"

Samantha collapsed onto the couch. "But he could fucking destroy me! What if that's all he wants? To destroy the Ice Queen who's made his professional life hell?" Samantha looked up into Evie's knowing eyes. "What if he wants me?"

"What if?" Evie picked up Samantha's hand. "Sam, what do you want?"

"I don't know!" She felt tears building again, her throat squeezing her words. "He was so hard, so commanding, he used me like a fucking living toy…" her words dropped to a whisper, "but it was so fucking good. And before he left he was so gentle, so tender… I've never had anyone make me feel that cared for, so protected, so… safe."

"So… loved?"

"I don't know! I don't know what to do!"

"Sam," Evie spoke quietly, intently, "I've got certain men on my staff who take care of things for me. I could send them over to get the photos and video from him. They would make sure he could never cause you anymore problems."

"NO!" Samantha felt a moment's panic twist in her chest. "I don't want you to hurt him."

"You don't?" Evie looked at Samantha, studying her eyes a moment. "Ok. Then you've got to play along until you can get the pictures back yourself and destroy them."

"Destroy them?"

"Yes. This goes one of two ways. Either you steal back the pictures, destroy his leverage, and then destroy him, for daring to think he could ever control Samantha Noelle."

A tiny scowl creased Samantha's forehead, but Evie ignored it and continued.
"Or you steal back the pictures, destroy his leverage and prove to him, and yourself, that you are his because you want to be, not because he's blackmailing you."

"Evie…"

"No, Sam, that's it. Either way, you'll know." Evie stood giving Sam one last hug before she walked toward the door. "now, if you are going to play along tomorrow, you'd better get some sleep tonight."

"Evie!"

"Best sex you've ever had, remember? Call me!" and Evie walked out leaving Samantha alone once more with her confusion.



The shrill ring of the phone the next morning jolted Samantha awake from dreams of being fucked over her desk. She glanced at the display and saw Everett's name. Sudden butterflies fluttered in her belly and she shifted to sit, the ache in her ass easier but still there as a reminder. The phone rang again, and again.

She stared at the display. Everett. She drew in a deep breath and lifted the phone to her ear, answering in a hesitant whisper, "Hello S-sir. Your P-pet wears no panties. Your Pet awaits her O-owner."
 
"I will see you in an hour."

Samantha jumped from the bed, tossing her phone onto the pile of tumbled bedding and heading for a quick shower, deciding she need not waste time washing her hair again since it had been mere hours since she'd showered at the office. A snapshot image of her bedraggled, cum-covered self last night before that shower flashed before her eyes, but she forced it away.

Heading back to settle on the end of her bed, she spent a few minutes smoothing her Jasmine-scented body lotion into her skin, her fingers sliding long, easy strokes along her legs. Samantha squirmed slightly as she reached her newly bared pussy, the skin there somehow doubly sensitive without its scant protection of hair.

Her nipples puckered tight as she stroked the cool lotion around her heaving tits. Her head fell back with a tiny moan, her eyes drifting closed as the vivid memory of Everett, holding her tight against his chest with one hand at her throat while the other twisted and pinched her aching nipples burst across her mind's eye. Her hands slid up to her throat, momentarily surprised to find it bare of the leather collar that had been locked around it the night before.

Finally she stood to gather the hose and garter that Everett wanted her to wear. Butterflies fluttered in her belly. Ordered her to wear.

Samantha sat back on the edge of the bed, lifting one leg to smooth the hose over her foot, up her calf and finally settle it on her thigh, then repeating the motion with its mate and standing to fasten the garters, securing the sheer hose in place.

She had only one bra that would be low cut enough to wear with the blouse Everett had chosen and not show at all. It was almost too small and barely covered her nipples, pushing her ample tits up to almost spill over the sheer lace cups. She put the low cut cream blouse on over it and blushed to see how it hid nothing but rather seemed to accentuate her deep cleavage even more.

Sliding the blue leather skirt up over her hips, she tucked in the blouse and fastened the skirt closed. She glanced in the mirror. The skirt was short, barely covering tops of her thigh-high hose and garters. If she had to sit, or bend over it would definitely ride up enough that they would surely show.

And heels? Almost all her heels were more sensible, appropriate to a news professional. She had only one pair that weren't. Black leather pumps. 4½ inches. Her 'fuck me' heels. Samantha dug them out of the back of her closet and slipped them on.

She headed back into the bathroom, leaning into the mirror to quickly apply some mascara and lipstick. She scooped her hair up, beginning to twist it in place. Her eyes drifted closed and it was Everett's hands fisting in her hair, holding her in place while he fucked her mouth. Smoothing her hair gently aside as he cleaned her face. Tangling his fingers in her curls while pulling her close for a breath-stealing kiss.

Her pussy quivered and her ass spasmed tight as she moaned, releasing her pent-up breath.

Shit, shit, shit! She was going to be late! She pulled her hair up into a loose, tangled ponytail and ran for the door.



Striding as quickly as she could without actually running, Samantha headed to the front door of the coffee shop, only to be surrounded by a small crowd of fans seeking autographs. "Ms. Noelle, could you please sign…" She smiled and nodded, greeting each person with a warmth that none of her co-workers ever saw as she worked her way through to the door.

Finally free, she glanced around stomach falling, not seeing Everett anywhere. She made her way quickly to the counter. "Jerry," she called, "I'm looking for a young man…"

A leer from the man beside her at the counter washed over her as his eyes roved slowly up and down her body. "I've got what you need right here, dollface."

Samantha ignored him, continuing to talk to Jerry. "my… Everett, my executive assistant…"

Jerry smiled, but before he could answer the stranger beside her leered again, running his hand over his denim covered crotch. "Forget this Everett, baby, I can show you a much better time."

Samantha smiled, letting the Ice Queen glance over with a withering glare. "I said I was looking for a man, not a horndog little boy."

Jerry chuckled as the man muttered "bitch!" and slunk away. "Everett's out on the patio, Ms. Noelle. I'm surprised you didn't see him when you walked up."

Samantha smiled back, nodding to the cluster of fans. "I was a little distracted." She didn't add that her own nerves were infinitely more distracting than that small crowd. "Thanks, Jerry."

She turned and drew in a deep shuddering breath before walking resolutely out to the patio, feeling so exposed, suddenly vulnerable, hoping that her adherence to Everett's wardrobe commands would balance out the fact that she was late.
 
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"You look stunning."

Samantha could feel the flush rising to stain her cheeks. Pleasure at the compliment warred with embarrassment over been seen in such revealing clothing more suited to a night out clubbing than a weekend morning visit to a coffee shop. All topped by confusion that the compliment coming in Everett's deep murmur, the evidence of his satisfaction with her, somehow increased the pleasure to far outweigh any humiliation. Even the twinge of nervousness over her all too rapidly growing impulse to please Everett faded beneath the wave of arousal his heated gaze inspired.

That same deep voice commanded her closer, and closer still, and almost before she was aware of doing so, her body obeyed.

Everett's hand slid slowly up under her skirt and Samantha froze, unwilling to move, to even breathe, for fear of drawing anyone's attention to either of them. She caught her lip in her teeth, biting back a low moan as Everett's fingers stroked through her wetness, pushing into her suddenly throbbing pussy, clenching one hand on the back of the empty seat next to her as the other gripped Everett's shoulder, fighting to keep herself upright. His thumb flicked against her clit and she could not hold back the tiny gasp, her legs trembling as Everett pulled his fingers free.

She watched him slowly raise his wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean and her knees almost gave way. The blood thundering through her ears drowned out his words enough that she almost missed his order.

"I want a half-caf, half-sweet, no-whip, coconut milk, cinnamon dolce latte with agave and no topping. Make it a large."

She felt her spine stiffen, her shoulders drop. Did he think she was a fucking waitress? Was he planning to have Samantha Noelle wait on him hand and foot? She drew in a breath to tell him where he could stick his fucking latte, but hesitated. Evie's advice coming back, running through her head. Play along until you can steal back the pictures.

The Ice Queen retreated, indignation fading as fast as it had risen. More frightening than how quickly her anger faded though, was how easily the urge to obey and eagerness to please filled its empty place. Samantha was suddenly very afraid that playing along was going to be a very dangerous game.

She listened without reaction to the rest of Everett's instructions.

"Tick Tock. Do it right and I will have a special gift waiting for you."

Samantha was suddenly extremely nervous about what the 'special gift' might be and whether she even wanted it. Play along. Play along. Play along. Perhaps that should be her new mantra.

With no one else at the counter, Samantha sucked in a deep breath, unaware of how it pushed her cleavage out in the low cut blouse, and walked over to Jerry. "Everett would like a…" she hesitated, trying to remember, "half-caf, half-sweet… no-whip, coconut milk… cinnamon dolce latte with agave." What else? "oh… no topping." She clenched her hands around the edge of the counter. "Large. Please."

Jerry smiled. "all right." A few minutes later, settling the drink in front of her, Jerry asked, "and what can I get for you?"

Samantha blushed deeply, lowering her voice, "a Jerry's Blowjob, please."

Jerry grinned, "sorry, I didn't quite hear that. What do you want, Ms. Noelle?"

She closed her eyes a moment, then spoke louder. "I want a Jerry's Blowjob, please."

"Oh, I can definitely get you one of those," Jerry chuckled, and in short order set a whipped cream topped espresso in front of her.

Handing over the money to pay for the drinks, Samantha lifted the espresso and drank. Chocolate, cinnamon and irish cream exploded across her tongue, blending perfectly with the warm espresso. It was actually quite delicious.

Setting the empty espresso cup back on the counter, Samantha looked up to see Jerry staring at her wide-eyed. "You've got a little… cream… on your face," he grinned, pointing to her chin.

She let her tongue run slowly over her lips, then extended a finger to scoop the whipped cream dribbling down her chin and slowly engulfed the finger, sucking the last of the whipped cream off it. "That was amazing, Jerry. My second best blow job ever. Thank you."

She knew she was blushing furiously but smiled and winked, picking up Everett's order and turning to walk slowly back to his table. He checked his watch again, while she settled the latte in front of him.

"Your latte… sir," she whispered.
 
"So the question I ask you is this... why do you work so hard to keep that image going for the public, while you rot the relationships of those who work for you?"

Samantha shifted in her seat, tugging futilely at the short skirt. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet Everett's perceptive glance. While it might appear that her fidgeting was due to the embarrassment of her skimpy skirt riding up to reveal her thigh hose and garters, deep down she knew it had more to do with Everett's uncomfortable question.

Why maintain the public image? That was easy. Her fans were her career. She owed every success she had to the people who tuned in to watch her. She owed them her gratitude yes, but more than that, she felt the love they had for her, and knew they deserved no less in return. A little of her time was a small price to pay in return for everything they had given her.

So why did she turn on those closest to her, those she worked with every day? That was not nearly so easy to answer. Perhaps fear. The Ice Queen was her protection. Fans who spent a few minutes with her, for a photo or an autograph were no danger. There was no risk of them getting inside her defences. But people she worked with every day, they could get close. They had the power to hurt her. The Ice Queen always struck first. She would keep her self.. her heart… protected, by keeping everyone else at a distance. She fought her way to the top in a cut-throat, male dominated profession, and being hard, being non-emotional was the way she intended to stay there.

There was no way she could explain that to Everett. How could she trust him with that much power over her? He already had the power to destroy her career, her very life, since right now her career was her life.

She looked up to his eyes just in time to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a USB drive, sliding it across the table toward her. She knew exactly what it contained and the bottom dropped out of the pit of her stomach.

"I wanted to give you a gift. This drive has all the images and movies that were taken last night. It's just a copy, mind you. I wanted you to see what I saw and no one else. You are welcome to take out your laptop and review them if you want."

Reaching slowly toward the USB, almost as if afraid it would bite, Samantha picked it up and slid it into her purse. Only a copy! Oh my God, I never even thought of that. How many more copies are there? How the fuck am I supposed to get them all? How can I ever know if I have?

She wanted to destroy the USB right there and then. Crush it under her heel. Drown it in his fucking latte. Incinerate it. She screwed her eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath, shifting again in her seat.

She knew she would take the drive home and look at the images, the video. She needed to see. Needed to watch Everett take control of her. Use her. She needed to see if the pleasure she remembered in her submission was really there, or if her memory was adding it, filling in something that never was.

And more than that she hoped to find some indication, any indication, that Everett found even a little pleasure in the events of last night. Any hope that it was more than just calculated revenge on his part.

Samantha shifted again, imagined images of Everett's cock fucking her face and her ass flashing though her mind's eye. How would the actual images compare?

"Drink the rest of this now, pet."

The steely command drew her focus away from the images in her mind and back to Everett. He pushed what was left of the latte toward her and though she trembled with arousal, both at the thoughts of the previous night and the dark command in Everett's voice, she didn't hesitate to take the cup and swallow the remainder of the drink.

"I am pleased little pet."

Samantha swallowed, clenching her thighs together against the pulse of heated pleasure that Everett's praise inspired. How did he do that? How did he take such control of her traitorous body? How can his offering such a simple phrase seem like the highest accolade she had ever earned, or could ever hope to? How did he make her want nothing more than to earn it again and again?

She watched him slowly walk around the table and hold out his hand for her. She lifted her own, almost afraid of her own reaction.

Everett enveloped her hand in his own firm grip and Samantha had to bite back a tiny moan, sparks of electricity shooting up her arm.

How did he do that? How did he make her forget all about staring eyes and her own skimpy clothing? How did he make her feel so protected, so… safe?

Everett held her hand all the way through the coffee shop and outside to hail a cab, only releasing her to let her climb in.

Samantha settled in, sliding over as Everett climbed in beside her, pulling her close to his side as he gave the cabbie their destination. He shifted closer and Samantha jumped to feel his hand sliding up her thigh. She gasped, momentarily squeezing her thighs together to prevent the hand moving up any further. A simple hard stare and raised eyebrow from Everett was his only comment, but Samantha slowly eased her thighs back apart, releasing his hand to resume its exploration.

She whimpered, clutching at his arm with both hands, not to halt its motion but merely to hang on in desperation, steadying herself against his strength. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face against Everett's shoulder with a soft whispered, "please," though even she was not sure if she begged for more or for an end to it.

But the strong, thick fingers did neither, simply stroking softly against her wet pussy, no more, no less. Samantha slowly relaxed under the easy petting, rubbing her cheek against Everett's shoulder, relaxing her tight grip on his arm.

The hand slowly pulled away and Samantha sat up, blinking open her eyes to see they'd arrived at the mall.
 
"Yes, well... we should go inside."

Samantha felt her hand engulfed once more in Everett's strong hold and followed along in a daze. Her heart hammered wildly, and she could feel the heat flushing her cheeks. She lifted tentative fingers to brush at her lips, still swollen and wet from Everett's kisses. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers, softness and strength, like velvet wrapped bands of steel around her wrists, holding her steady, keeping her still. Saving her from having to decide whether she wanted to push him away and pull him even closer.

Such gentleness in the way her cupped her chin, such tenderness in his first soft kisses. Could he really be that good an actor? Was it all a ruse, to make her devastation even more complete when he destroyed her? Or could he actually, possibly care about her?

Samantha didn't know which would terrify her more.

But she did know that when he led her into the boutique and dropped her hand to go greet the stylist she'd never felt so cold, so empty and alone, as she did without Everett's warm grip engulfing her hand.

She couldn't stop the blush when he introduced her to Ms. Janella, adding the comment about his ball-busting boss with a wink. Thankfully, Janella seemed happy to do all the talking as she led Samantha to a stylist seat and didn't seem to require any answer from her. She caught Everett's eye in the mirror and saw his eyebrow arch as he glanced pointedly at her tightly pressed together knees. She blushed again, lowering her eyes away from his, but opened her knees at his unspoken command.

"Mmmm mmmm mmm... honey, I ain't never seen that boy glowing that much since he was a boy. Don't know who you are, but I know that look when I see it. He got a mad crush on you."

Samantha's eyes flew to meet Janella's, then flashed over to Everett, who was concentrating on something on his phone. Was it possible? Or was it just a teasing comment that she made to any couple who came in? She wanted to ask so many questions… how did she know? Had he brought other women here? Was he seeing someone else? Did he hold another woman's hand like he had hers? Make someone else feel soft and protected and safe?

"I love that boy to death. He been coming here since he was 10, even after his momma died. Don't you hurt that boy now. You got his heartstrings. I see that look now he is given you. That boy mad crazy about you."

His mother was gone? When had that happened? How did she not know about that? Samantha blinked back tears. The Ice Queen didn't want to know anything about her coworkers. She didn’t care. Caring made you weak. Made you vulnerable. But suddenly Samantha wanted to know everything about Everett. She glanced into the mirror again, letting her eyes wander over his face, his hands, unnoticed as his focus stayed on whatever he was doing on his phone, never seeing the satisfied smile that lit Janella's face as she watched her. Her chuckle eventually drew Samantha's eyes away from Everett.

"What kind of hair style do you want child?"

"Ev-, I mean, I want it straightened and cut off shoulder length. And a lighter colour, maybe some honey-blond highlights."

"You sure, child? That's quite a change."

Samantha flicked a glance at Everett with a soft smile. "Yes, ma'am," she nodded. "I'm sure."

"You call me momma, child." Janella smiled. "You've got a lot of hair here." She pulled the ponytail free, running her fingers through the long fall of curls. "If we cut it just a bit shorter, it would be enough so you could donate the hair. How would you feel about that?"

"How much shorter?"

"Maybe another inch?"

Samantha smiled. "Okay… momma, I'd like that. Would you put the donation in the name of Everett Johnson? Please?"

Janella patted her cheek with a smile. "Of course, child. Now let's get to this."

Soon, Samantha was lost in the everyday sameness of a hair appointment. Janella's words washed over her as her fingers worked their magic. Stories about her husband and how much she missed him since he passed. It was clear that they had been deeply in love. "Life is too short, child, to let any chance at happiness slip away."

She spun the chair back around to turn Samantha to face the mirror. "So what do you think?"

Samantha glanced in awe at her reflection. She turned her head side to side, feeling the soft fall of hair move against her cheeks. The weight of the severe twist she usually wore her long hair in was gone. She felt so light, so free. And she looked so different. So unlike the Ice Queen who kept her long, chestnut curls twisted in the same tight knot as her emotions. "oh momma," she breathed, eyes wide, "it's amazing. I love it. Do you like it? I love it!" She turned her head again, watching her straight, honey-blonde hair swirl with every movement.

"Just beautiful, child. Much softer framing that pretty face." Janella patted her shoulder. "Should we go see what that boy of yours thinks?"

Samantha swallowed, blushing deeply. What would Everett think? She walked with Janella to the till and paid her, including a generous tip. "thank you, momma, for everything."

"you're welcome, child." Janella smiled over Samantha's shoulder, "Well don't just stand there gawking, Everett," she chided. "What do you think, boy?"

Samantha whirled around, eyes downcast, fingers clutched together at her waist, too nervous to meet Everett's eyes. "thank you, Everett, for bringing me here."
 
Samantha watched Everett say his good-byes to Janella. He seemed pleased, and maybe even a bit attracted to her? Was that possible? Could he feel anything other than hatred for his ball-busting boss, the Ice Queen? Or did he see someone else when he looked at her? Did he look past Ms. Noelle and see his Sammy instead? She studied his face, his eyes. How could she tell?

Everett turned to see meet her eyes and she watched a flush creep up his cheeks, until even the tips of his ears were burning bright red. He reached out to take her hand and all thought, all curiosity about what brought that reaction on faded beneath the warmth, the comfort… the absolute rightness… of her small hand being enveloped in his as she followed wherever he might lead.

She walked along, wanting to ask about the kitchen Janella mentioned. Where was it? What was it? Janella had invited her, but would Everett want her there? Would he want her in any part of his life?

Wait, what? Part of his life? Where had that come from? Samantha could hear the Ice Queen raging in the back of her mind. Am I the fucking little mermaid now? Since when do I want to be part of anyone else's life? Especially Everett's. Jesus. And do what? Move in to his no doubt crappy little apartment with him? Cook and clean and do his laundry? Wait on my knees for him to come home from his hard day's work as a fucking executive assistant?

Samantha glanced at Everett, seeing a flash of sadness on his face. It disappeared so quickly she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking. A sudden longing washed over her. She wanted to ease that hidden sadness. She wanted to see happiness, pure joy on Everett's face. Could she kneel for him? Samantha had the deep and certain conviction that she could. She would. Eagerly. Happily. If only she knew that was what he wanted. That it was what would make him truly happy. If only she could be sure that he actually wanted her, and not just to destroy her.

It always came back to trust. Could she trust him. How could she? How could he trust her? She had to steal back the photos and video. She had to destroy it all. There was no other way.

She followed him around the corner and heard several catcalls. She blushed, tugging futilely at her short skirt and heard Everett's chuckled, "If they only knew..."

Samantha ducked her head. What did that mean? Did he think she was a slut? Did he think she'd ever let anyone else…? She could still feel the aching twinge in her ass where he'd fucked her so hard and deep. No one else had ever… she swallowed against the tightness burning her throat... no one else would ever. Whether he realised it or not, her ass belonged to Everett now. Her whole body did. She was beginning to be afraid it was already too late and her heart and soul belonged to Everett, too. She was even more terrified that he only wanted them so he could destroy them.

They stopped in the entrance of a jewelry store and Samantha turned her wandering attention back to Everett. "…That way, even when you are on the air doing your interviews with world leaders, you always reflect your Master's wishes."

Her Master's wishes. Her belly flipped at the words, a torrent of fluttering butterflies taking up residence. Did he want to be her Master? She had not dared to use that word. Last night he had told her not to, told her she had not earned it. Did she want to?

"May I help you sir?"

The smooth voice of the jeweller interrupted her thoughts and Everett stepped away, releasing her hand. The cool crispness of the jeweller's sleeve was a poor substitute as he tucked Samantha's hand into his elbow and led her to the display cases.

"Now what were you looking for, my dear? Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Something simple," she murmured softly, "studs or small hoops. Something in red."

"Very good, Miss." Stanley led her to the far end of the display case, bringing out a wide selection of earrings in every shade of red imaginable.

"Now here we have some imperial topaz, and some red diamonds. Very rare." Stanley smiled.

Samantha smiled. They were stunning, and she certainly could afford something so expensive. "Lovely," she smiled, "but not exactly what I was looking for." She let her eyes wander over the earrings. She wanted something less flashy, more solid. Something that Everett would choose. Something that Everett could afford. Something she could imagine Everett giving… a woman he cared about.

A shimmering, iridescent flash caught her eye. "These are beautiful," she pointed to the small studs.

"Indeed, Miss," Stanley agreed. "These are Fire Opals. Quite suited to you, Miss. If I may say so."

Samantha blushed, and turned back to the earrings. "I like these as well," she lifted a pair of gold hoops with a smooth striated red bead in the center of each out of the display case.

Stanley nodded. "14K gold hoops threaded with a polished sardonyx bead. A lovely choice."

"And these," Samantha pointed.

"Ah, yes," Stanley smiled. "Red gold hoops. Simple. Understated, but elegant. Will that be everything, Miss?"

"Yes, please, Stanley. If I may take the Fire Opals now?" Samantha pulled the dangling gold earrings from her ears and replaced them with the Fire Opal studs. Handing her old earrings to Stanley she said, "would you dispose of those for me?"

"um… if you are certain, Miss. You don't want to take them home?"

She finished paying for the earrings with a soft smile. "I don't believe I will be needing them again, Stanley." At least she hoped not. "Thank you for all your help."

Stanley nodded. "My pleasure, Miss. Enjoy the rest of your day."

The fluttering in her belly intensified again as Samantha turned to walk back toward Everett, wondering what exactly the rest of her day might bring.

She lifted one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, showing off the Fire Opals with a soft blush as she handed Everett the remaining two pairs of earrings. "Thank you for bringing me here… Sir," she whispered.
 
"It is our little secret so even if I am on the other side of the planet and see you on TV wearing them, I will know you are mine. You are mine aren't you?"

It was a statement rather than a question, but Samantha couldn't hold back the small smile and nod of agreement. Or the flush of pleasure blooming in her core at his claim. Whether it was revenge or desire that prompted the claim, it was the simple truth. As long as he had the photos and video he owned her. Though if she were truly honest with herself, her time with Everett today had proven one thing. She hoped it was more than revenge. The little core of want deep inside was growing steadily at the thought of being Everett's.

The flush that stole once more across Everett's expressive face gave her hope that he wanted it, too, but he turned away quickly and started to walk again.

Samantha walked alongside Everett, her hand enveloped in his, watching the people flowing around them. It almost felt as if they were any one of the dozens of couples out walking on this lovely Saturday. Simply out enjoying each other's company. She was a little surprised to find herself enjoying the day, enjoying Everett's company and she had to forcibly remind herself that he was very likely only toying with her, only interested in destroying his ball-busting boss. He was probably intent on lulling her into a false sense of security, to make it all the more devastating when he dropped the axe.

He led them into the food court and over to a living tree, surrounded by a low brick wall. He sat against the wall, pulling her in to settle against his lap, her back against his chest, his hands holding her arms crossed around herself to keep her pulled close. She smiled softly, savouring the feel of Everett's strength surrounding her. Even the feel of his hardening cock under her bottom was welcome. Evidence that he did desire her, at least on some level.

He leaned close, his lips almost brushing her ear, his breath a warm tickle on her throat as he began to talk, pointing out the people around the food court, telling her their stories. Samantha let his deep rumbling whisper wash over her, enjoying the cadence of his words, loving the sharing, the sense of getting to know Everett better through his stories about these people. She felt as though she was beginning to understand the deep level of caring and compassion in this man. And she felt ashamed. Ashamed that the Ice Queen never considered her coworkers as people. People with lives and hopes and dreams. Maybe Everett was right. Maybe she deserved to be destroyed. She sighed softly, a little bit of the joy of the day faded away.

Everett didn't notice, the stories still pouring out. He was so like she had been at the beginning of her career. Optimistic and idealistic. He was the kind of person who should be an anchor, wanting to make the world a better place, make the lives of everyday people better. And the Ice Queen had been planning to ruin it all. She would have fired him for no good reason other than her own bitchy boredom and the imagined threat she perceived to her own career. She had been ready to destroy his life without a thought. What kind of horrible woman was she?

She looked out at the people bustling through the food court. Woman juggling children and shopping, young couples in love. She was like them once, like Everett. Young and enthusiastic. When had she turned into such a bitter, old bitch? Was it any wonder that he wanted to destroy her? He knew she'd planned to fire him, how could he want anything else?

She shifted, fighting back tears. Everett's arms around her beginning to feel like a comfort she didn't deserve, and had no hope of ever earning.

He stood her up, turning her to face him and Samantha kept her eyes down, not ready to meet his gaze, when a sharp smack hit her ass and she heard a young voice crow, "I'd hit that!"

Icy indignation filled Samantha, less on her own behalf than Everett's. Couldn't the stupid little shit see she was with someone? Even if she'd been alone, a little twit who would slap a strange woman's ass in public was not anyone she'd be interested in. The Ice Queen drew in a breath to tear the little fucker down to size, but before she could speak she saw Everett's hand snake out to grab the little bastard by his crotch, demanding his apology. She could only stare in wide-eyed shock as Everett protected her, defended her. The little shit stammered his apologies, but Samantha barely noticed him, her attention all on Everett, warmth filling her. She could have dealt with it herself, but somehow, Everett doing it made her feel so safe, so claimed.

Everett took her hand again and Samantha sighed softly. She could fast become addicted to the feel of his strong hand enveloping hers as he led her away to wherever they were going next.

"I said I wanted to provide real stories to them... I didn't say some of them weren't douchebags though."

Samantha chuckled as she followed Everett, some of the joy of the day bubbling back.

"Come with me my pet."

Everett's grin sent another rush of warmth through her as she followed him into the ladies' clothing store, watching him grab random items from various racks before leading her back toward the changing rooms. He led her straight into one of the rooms, closing and locking the door behind them before he settled on the bench watching her intently.

"so ... pet. Strip for me."

Samantha blushed wildly. Everett had already seen every part of her body. He'd already used every part of her body… but somehow having him show up to find her already stripped and bound was a very different thing than standing here and removing her clothes while he watched. It was a little ridiculous at her age, but suddenly she was shy, very self-conscious, and very aware of her age. Samantha knew that she had been blessed with a good body, and being in the entertainment industry, she worked hard to keep it that way. But she also knew that it could not compare to the pretty young things who were probably constantly throwing themselves at Everett. She wasn't the pretty, young ingénue any more. Hadn't been for longer than she cared to admit.

Everett folded his arms across his chest, arching a brow.

Samantha swallowed against the tightness in her throat, her cheeks flaming even more as she barely whispered, "yes, sir" and lifted her hands to slowly work the buttons of her blouse free and drop it off her shoulders, leaving only the wispy lace of barely there bra covering her ample tits.

She moved her hands to the waistband of her blue leather skirt, sharply reminded of the fact that she had not been permitted panties today. She wished desperately she could turn away, somehow hide, but realised that the mirrors on every side of the small room would make that impossible.

She reached behind her back to the skirt's zipper, knowing that the move only served to push her tits out even further. Blushing deeply, she bent over, shimmying her hips as she worked the short leather skirt down her legs and stepped out of it. Standing straight again, she realised the effort had managed to caused her nipples to nearly spill free of the demi cups of lace, but before she could reach to tuck them back properly, Everett's hands were there, pushing hers down to her sides, fingers scooping her nipples free and giving them a tug and twist, leaving them to rest, tight and exposed above the lace edge of her bra.

She stood then, pressing her thighs together, hands clenched in front of her, hiding her. She finally raised her eyes to see a raised eyebrow from Everett and dropped her hands. In the mirror she could see her blushes almost extending over her whole body.

"What shall I try on for you first, Sir?"
 
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Samantha stood still, passively following Everett's guiding touch as he turned her to face the mirrored door, positioning her hands at the back of her head.

"Do not close your eyes. Not for one moment of this. If you close them for any longer than a single blink, I will spank your ass which will surely... cause a few heads to turn. Do I make myself clear my pet?"

Samantha bit back a moan as an image of herself bent over Everett's lap as his strong hand spanked her bare ass flashed through her mind. She could imagine herself thrashing and crying out. Begging for mercy. Begging for more. The beautiful burn as Everett's hand turned her pale flesh a fiery red. His favourite colour.

She tore herself back to the present. She definitely did not want that to happen, at least not in a public changing room. She forced a broken whisper, "y… yes, sir."

"I want you to look into the eyes of the woman staring at you. Just her eyes and nothing else. The eyes are the window to your soul and I want you to see into your own soul."

Everett's hands moved to her breasts, circling and massaging them, plucking at her taut, pointed nipples. Samantha fought the need to drop her head back with a moan, forcing herself to stay upright, her eyes open and locked on her reflection. She arched, pressing her breasts into his hands, seeking more. He rolled her nipples, tugging them gently.

"I am thinking you would look fantastic with a pair of nipple studs. Something small. Nah ah..."

Samantha's eyes drifted down to watch his fingers working her nipples, then shot back up to her own eyes as he slapped her ass and his words registered. She clutched her fingers together, fighting the urge to lower them and cover her nipples. She wanted to look into Everett's eyes, wanted to see if he was serious or just trying to unnerve her, but she didn't dare look away from her own eyes.

The woman in the mirror stared back at her, holding the position she was commanded to, watching her with the same liquid chocolate eyes she saw every day. But somehow, the woman in the mirror was serene, accepting. The woman in the mirror was confident and unafraid. The woman on the mirror would accept any mark the man who owned her wanted to put on her.

"There you go. You don't own your body anymore. I do. The only thing you own now is your soul and the only way you can see into that soul... is by looking into your own eyes."

Everett's voice whispered seductively in her ear, and the more Samantha stared at the woman in the mirror, the more she wanted to be that woman.

His hands began to roam, moving slowly, languorously over her body, caressing her with long, soft strokes. Strong fingers teased at her clit and her eyes drifted again, fluttering closed before searching out his reflection in the mirror. A sharp glance from Everett and her eyes flashed back to her own reflection.

"You are going to have to learn obedience slave. That is the second time I have caught you disobeying a simple command. Do not make me buy you a set of blinders to force you to look forward."

Samantha bit back a whimper, fighting desperately to hold her position under the sweet torment of Everett's teasing touch. She bit her bottom lip, staring into the pleading eyes of the woman in the mirror. She didn't see Everett's wicked grin, or his hands sliding against her. She locked her eyes only on the woman in the mirror.

She felt his teeth on her earlobe and tipped her head to give her easier access, but she stayed focussed on the chocolate eyes staring back at her.

"This woman isn't the woman from before last night. This woman is ... vulnerable... needy... desperate... luscious..."

Samantha saw the truth of it in the woman's eyes. The vulnerability, the desperate need, the struggle to obey, to please.

Everett's dark whispers continued to breathe in her ear, "This woman... is you. The real you. The one you are afraid of..." And in that moment, one hand closed around her throat with a strong, warm grip, as his other slid lower, fingers pushing up into her wet throbbing pussy.

Samantha teetered on the edge of climax, a long, shuddering moan slipping free… and a knock on the door shattered the spell. Her eyes darted reflexively to the door, but she dragged them back to her own reflection, repeating Everett's whispered words while he continued to toy with her body, bringing her quickly back to the brink.

"Do NOT move from that spot. You look at that woman in the mirror and think about what I said. You may move your hands but not your feet." With that last whispered command, Everett slipped his fingers free, gathered up the clothes she had not even tried on yet and eased out the dressing room door.

Samantha stared at the woman in the mirror. She was afraid of this woman. This woman who was open and vulnerable. This woman who was unafraid to need someone else. This woman who wanted to belong to someone. Wanted to belong to Everett. Because wanting to belong to him didn't mean he wanted her. Her pussy throbbed in protest. Didn't mean he wanted more than a good fuck before he destroyed her.

She was tempted to reach down and relieve the deep ache, she was so close. But Everett didn't tell her she could and he would be back any minute.

She hesitated. Where was he?

Her eyes flicked to the reflection of the bench behind her. Her clothes were gone. She automatically stared back into her reflection, not daring to breathe. He wouldn't have left her here… would he? Left her with no clothes in a public changing room? Was this the beginning of his revenge?

Panic was beginning to wash over her, but she fought it back. No. The man she'd spent the day with wouldn't take her clothes and abandon her in public. Everett would be back. Samantha stared at the woman in the mirror. She believed.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity alone, there was a soft knock on the door and when Samantha reached out to ease it open, Everett slipped inside.

With a soft cry Samantha grabbed at him, never moving from where she stood but managing still to collapse into his surprised embrace, one arm wrapping around his neck as the other clutched at his waist, her face pressed under his chin. "you came back," she sobbed with a watery laugh, "I was so afraid, but she knew you would."
 
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"I am never going to go away, pictures or not."

Pictures or not. Three such simple words, and yet they had the power to pierce her relief, to drain the comfort she felt from Everett's embrace. It always came back to the pictures. As long as they existed they would be an insurmountable wall between them. She had to find a way to steal them back, even at the risk of breaking any tiny amount of faith Everett might have in her.

His hand brushed her cheek, distracting her from her troubled thoughts as he tilted her chin up and gently kissed her, before directing her attention to the new selection of dresses he'd brought her to model for him.

Before she could move, he grabbed her, pinning her wrists behind her as he pressed her back against the wall, nudging her legs apart. He buried his fist in her hair, dragging her head back as he swooped in to devour her lips in a breath-stealing, all-encompassing kiss. She arched and writhed in his tight hold, twisting at her wrists, desperate to reach out, curl her fingers in his hair, pull him even closer. She wanted to rip his shirt open, to feel his bare chest pressing against her throbbing nipples, to run her hands over his shoulders, to feel his strength under her fingers.

His lips and tongue were re-igniting the banked fire within her, bringing it roaring back to life, pushing her closer and closer to the edge, leaving her achingly empty and desperate to be filled.

He pulled slowly back and she swallowed a whimper, licking her kiss-swollen lips, panting to catch her breath. He looked deeply into her eyes, and Samantha did not even try to hide the desperate longing, the pure need she knew must be shining in them.

Everett released her completely and settled back on the dressing room bench. Samantha's eyes dropped to the clear bulging evidence of his desire and flicked back up to his eyes as he spoke, "Try... try on the dresses pet."

She smiled. He wanted her. That was clear. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She turned to reach for the first dress, her mind racing. She was not entirely powerless here. The Ice Queen knew that men did most of their thinking with their dicks and she'd been using that to her advantage for her entire career. Everett was a young man, with a no doubt very healthy sex drive. Easy to control.

She slipped the first dress on, posing for Everett, ever so slightly arching her back, letting it push out her breasts and her ass. He drew in a slow breath, shifting on the seat. "That one is gorgeous. Let's see the next one."

Samantha tried on each dress, carefully watching Everett's every reaction. Watching the slight twitch of his fingers as if they itched to caress. Watched the shifting positions, as though he couldn’t quite get comfortable. Watched his Adam's apple bob with every tight swallow. Watched his cock push harder and harder against his pants, seeking its freedom.

Yes, he wanted her desperately and she absolutely could use that to gain back some of her control.

"Personally, I like dress 1, 5, and this one. What do you think?"

Samantha studied her reflection, but she was no longer looking at the dress. She was studying the liquid chocolate eyes staring back at her. The Ice Queen would take control. She would demand and command and use Everett's hunger against him. But the woman in the mirror… Sammy… Sammy might tease and tempt to try and get what she wanted, she might beg and plead, but Sammy would never control. She would submit, and trust the man who commanded her to make sure they both got what they needed. Sammy understood that Daddy knows best.

Samantha turned to Everett with a smile. "I think you have a surprisingly good eye for women's clothing. I think I will be buying three dresses in the very near future."

She felt the flush rising over her cheeks yet again, but she swallowed sharply and continued. "I think… I… thank you, sir, for bringing me here."

Samantha lifted nervous eyes to meet Everett's before dropping them to stare at the still rampant evidence of his arousal. She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, before biting her bottom lip and dropping to her knees in front of Everett. "I think… I need to thank you… for coming back, for not leaving me… for taking care of me," she whispered. "I want to… thank you… please Sir?"
 
"What did I tell you about absolute honesty with me?"

Samantha pulled away, her eyes locked on Everett's hand as it moved slowly toward her, fear growing in her eyes as though she watched a snake preparing to strike. Closer… closer… his fingers coiled slowly around the back of her neck. She leaned back, fighting the pull but in a single quick jerk he dragged her across his knee, locking her legs in place with his and pinning her hands at the small of her back.

She drew in a deep breath, but before she could utter any sound Everett wrapped his fist in her hair, wrenching her head back sharply to growl against her ear. "If you make a sound... if you cum... this show is over. If you scream... your career is over..."

Samantha pursed her lips closed with a cold Ice Queen glare over her shoulder. If Everett thought he could intimidate her… that she was afraid of anything he could do…

A sharp, stinging smack fell on her ass, blistering the tender skin still marked from last night, and she barely bit back the yelp of shock and pain before his hand moved to her clit, twisting and pinching it hard.

She writhed and twisted, desperately struggling against his hold, biting her lip sharply to hold in her cries.

"If you think you found anything you can take advantage of, Ms. Noelle, you just lost it. I hold all the cards. Your ass is mine."

Samantha wrenched her eyes away from his hard gaze, still struggling against his hold, but she could not tear her eyes away from the mirror. Reflections on all sides. Reflections of reflections. No matter where she looked. Images of herself from every angle, her body writhing in Everett's implacable grip. Everett's hand holding her as immobile as any bindings ever had. Everett's other hand moving between her legs.

She bit back a moan. His fingers pushed inside, so big, so tight, stretching her impossibly as they curled and pushed in and out.

She looked at Everett's reflection. His eyes were dark, angry. Disappointed. And something inside Samantha began to crack. She writhed on his fingers, but not quite as frantically. No longer certain whether she wanted him to stop or to press even deeper.

Her eyes moved to the woman in the mirror. A small drop of blood dripped from her lip where she bit down so desperately to hold in her cries. Tears pooled in her eyes without falling. What had she done? She was weak. She'd listened to the insidious whispers of the Ice Queen in her head. She'd let any tenderness and affection and trust he might have been feeling be crushed under the fear and pride of the Ice Queen. She'd failed. Failed Everett and failed Sammy.

She whimpered at the loss.

In that moment, Everett's reaching fingers brushed deep, rubbing hard and lightning shot through Samantha as she bit down on her cries, shuddering and writhing through an intense climax. Hard fingers continued to fuck her, sending her soaring over wave after wave of orgasm.

Finally, he released her to crumple to the floor, cum dribbling to pool beneath her.

"One, you came against permission. You will be punished for that in private."

Samantha lowered her eyes away from his in mute acceptance.

"Two, you lied to me, you will be punished for that in public a little later."

She ducked her head lower, feeling an embarrassed flush rise over her cheeks, the words 'in public' ringing over and over through her ears. That was it then. It was over. He was going to take his revenge. She had no hope left.

She blinked back her tears, the tightness in her chest crushing as she mourned, not the loss of Samantha Noelle's career, but the loss of the gentle, affectionate man she'd spent the earlier part of the day with.

She slipped into the last red dress, keeping her eyes downcast. She trembled, almost reaching for Everett's warm hand, but pulled her hand back at the last moment, wrapping her arms around herself instead. It was a poor, cold substitute for the strength and security that her small hand wrapped up in his offered, but it was all she could have now.

She walked slowly out of the dressing room, Everett right behind her. As she looked up, searching for the counter to pay for her purchases she noticed the sales lady from earlier, talking to a pair of security guards and pointing toward her. She blinked, eyes darting around as one big, burly guard strode purposefully in their direction.

"Is everything all right, ma'am?" he asked, manoeuvring himself between her and Everett, using his sheer bulk to ease her away and closer to the sales lady as his partner led Everett away in the opposite direction.

"I'm fine," she whispered, her eyes darting side to side, searching for Everett.

"Your lip is bleeding, ma'am." The guard pointed toward her face. "Would you like me to get you some help?"

"No, it was an accident. I just bit my lip. I'm fine. We're fine."

The guard studied her eyes closely. "You don't need to stay with someone who hurts you. We can protect you, get you somewhere safe…"

Samantha fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Everett was her somewhere safe. At least he had been today. Before she ruined it all.

"Look," she glared, "I know exactly what you think is going on here and you're wrong." She pulled away from the guard and walked toward the counter. "And quite frankly," she added sharply, "it's none of your damned business!" She turned to the sales lady and tossed the two dresses onto the counter. "I'll take these two dresses plus the one I'm wearing. Now."

She paid for the dresses and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the haughty woman. The security guard looked her over once, shrugged and nodded to his partner, the pair sauntering away.

Samantha dropped her eyes, unable to look at Everett as she picked up the bag with her new dresses and walked toward him, not wanting to see again the dark anger and disappointment that she'd seen in his face in the changing room mirror.
 
Samantha held her breath as she felt Everett's strong fingers wrap around her own, and feelings of such warmth and peace wash over her. She had not expected to ever feel that again and could only close her eyes and savour the sweet sensation.

"Let's get out of here."

Everett tugged on her hand and began to walk, leading her quickly out through the mall toward the parking lot and Samantha followed without question, even as her mind raced, unsure what to make of his behaviour. He seemed to be in a hurry, but the anger had dimmed. Was he leading her to her final destruction? Or just eager to escape the busybody saleswoman?

Finally outside, he quickly hailed a cab and settled her in, giving the cabbie directions and closing the divider before leaning back next to her.

Samantha kept her eyes down, twisting and untwisting the shopping bag's handle around her fingers. She didn't know what he expected of her. Didn't know what she expected of herself. She could still feel the Ice Queen raging and fought against it, pushing her deep inside. If there was even the smallest chance that she could earn back any of Everett's faith in her, then she wanted that chance desperately. And she intended to fight tooth and nail to keep the Ice Bitch's fear from ruining things again.

If… if… that was a monumental if.

Then Everett's thumb was brushing softly against her lip, wiping away the blood, his voice full of gentle concern as he asked if she was hurt.

Samantha could barely force her answer past the lump squeezing her throat tight. "No... sir."

His fingers lifted her chin, with a soft order to stop sulking and look up. Samantha wavered, slowly lifting her eyes. He thought she was sulking, but she couldn't correct his assumption. What could she say? That it was not pouting, but fear and humiliation that kept her from meeting his eyes? That she was embarrassed over her aborted attempt at seduction? That she was humiliated by being spanked in a public place? That she was mortified at being made to climax like a desperate, needy slut who had no control over her own body? How could she admit that more than anything else she was terrified of seeing angry disgust or disappointment or only a desire for revenge in his eyes when he looked at her.

The cab bounced roughly, jolting them both and Samantha heard "Welcome back Sammy," when she finally met his eyes. His hand caressed her chin and she closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into it, before opening them again to take in the warmth in his eyes. She watched his eyes rove slowly down to her cleavage, highlighted by a plunging neckline, down her legs bared by the short, loosely flowing skirt of her new red dress before trailing back up again, and Samantha felt each glance like a heated caress.

"Definitely my favorite dress," was all he said, but Samantha smiled, basking in the soft approval.

Everett pulled her close then, tucking her against his side and she released a soft breath, almost afraid to believe. She rested her head on his shoulder and slowly relaxed into him. No matter what happened, she wanted to remember this moment. Savour it always. She snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder, letting her eyes drift closed as she gave the fingers still holding hers a tiny squeeze.

The cab eventually eased to a stop and Samantha sat up, blinking. Everett helped her out onto the sidewalk and as she turned to pay the cab, he walked away, returning just as she turned looking for him.

He slid a Yankees ball cap onto her head, tucking her hair behind her ears as he did, fingering the fire opal earrings that were a perfect match to her dress. She felt her brow crinkle with her confusion, wondering what he meant about boosting her confidence. Perhaps, like the new hair, it was an attempt to help disguise her identity. She didn't know, and it didn't matter. It was Everett's decision.

He took her hand and began walking, leading her around the corner. When he stopped she looked up to see that they were standing in front of a tattoo shop. Her mouth dropped open and she took an involuntary step back, her heart thundering in her chest, but Everett's strong hold stopped her retreat.

"Listen Pet. When I said I owned your ass, I meant it. I own it and I own you. Everything I own has my initials on it, or my mark, even my laptop and back packs. You will be no exception."

The thundering of Samantha's heart began to give way to fluttering nerves in her belly. His mark. A mark of ownership. He wanted to put a mark of ownership on her. He wanted a permanent tattoo of his ownership on her. She couldn't speak. She could barely breathe.

If he wanted to mark her, then… It couldn't be just another level of humiliation before he destroyed her, could it? If he wanted to mark her then he must… want… her? If he wanted her to wear a permanent mark of ownership then it must mean that he wanted to own her permanently? She was still afraid to believe it, but she could no longer deny how desperately she wanted it.

Everett pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, showing her a hand drawn design of a rose triskelion. She could only stare at it, while his words washed over her, explaining its meaning. It was a beautiful image. Everett had designed it and now he wanted it permanently inked into her skin. She reached a trembling hand toward it as the image blurred and she blinked away the moisture suddenly filling her eyes.

She felt his hand lifting her chin again, "You are going down a journey that terrifies you. When you started playing your little games in your office, you practically were begging for someone to take you down this path. I am going to do that very thing."

Samantha smiled, clutching the paper to her. Everett was right. She was terrified. She was terrified of so many things. Of trusting him. Of trusting herself. Of failing them both. Terrified of taking this path. Terrified of committing to him when she couldn't be sure how he felt about her. Terrified of the Ice Queen coming back with a vengeance.

But more than anything else, she knew she was terrified of not taking this chance and never again feeling everything that Everett made her feel. The joy, the safety, the tenderness, the need, the comfort… the love.

Everett's hands stroked through Samantha's hair lifting her eyes up to meet his and bringing her focus back onto his words. "or... my Sammy is back and she wants this mark. A physical mark that i own you. A sign of pride. Either way, you are walking in that door."

She took a deep breath, holding tight to the image of her mark as Everett took her hand and led her through the door into the tattoo shop.

"Well, well, well," A booming voice greeted them. "Everett! Who's this pretty young thing you're bringing to see me?" A big bear of a man stepped out from behind the counter, gripping Everett's hand in one massive hand as he slapped his shoulder with the other.

"Max," Everett winced exaggeratedly, rubbing his shoulder with a laugh, "this is Sammy."

"Sammy, is it?" Max grinned, crossing one massive arm over his chest as he thoughtfully stroked his scruffy red beard with the other. "And what can I do for little Sammy, now?"

Samantha swallowed sharply, looking up wide-eyed at Max. Tribal tattoos snaked around the sides of his clean-shaven head and full sleeve tattoos covered both arms. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Licking her lips she tried again. "I want to get a tattoo."

"Do you now?"

"yes, please," she thrust the paper she still clutched at Max, "this. Right above my tail bone." She knew she was blushing furiously, but she held his gaze.

Max stared at her for a minute, then turned to look at Everett. "Why don't you run next door and get a couple bottles of water. This is going to take a while."

"Max…"

"Go, Everett. Little Sammy's not going anywhere. By the time you get back our consultation will be done and we'll be ready to get inking. Go."

Everett shot one last glare at Max, offered a quick smile to Samantha and left.

"All right, little Sammy," Max drawled, "you just come over here." Max led her over to a light table, taking the design from her shaking fingers. He studied the design, doing a few refining sketches while she watched. "You're sure about this?" He asked. "Tattoos don't have to be permanent, but you might as well consider them so. They don't come off easy and most of the time they don't come off clean. After it's there is way too late to change your mind."

"I'm sure, Max, thank you."

Max studied her eyes, and Samantha felt as though he might be seeing into her very soul with that penetrating stare.

"Well, all right then," he grinned, "what do you think of this?" Samantha stared at the sketch. It had all the elements of Everett's drawing, smoothed and simplified into a stunning design.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, awed. "There's one thing…" she glanced quickly around the room, "could you hide an E and a J in the design? Please?"

Max smiled. "yeah, I think I can do that."

"It's Everett's… the design," Samantha explained, blushing.

"how's that look?" Max held up the refined design and Samantha smiled.

"It's perfect, Max."

"Well, then," Max clapped his hands, rubbing them together, just as the door chimed, signalling Everett's return. "Now, comes the fun part." He turned to transfer the new image to a stencil as he called over his shoulder. "Everett, get little Sammy settled in the big chair. I'll be right there."

Everett led Samantha over to a wide leather adjustable seat. "you'll need to straddle it and lean over the back."

Samantha's eyes grew wide a saucers, a fiery blush filling her cheeks, as her fingers clutched at her skirt, pulling it tight around her legs.

Everett leaned close, whispering in her ear, "remember why you're here, little pet. remember what you want." He pressed his lips closer, his hot breath fanning the hair around her ear. "Even if I'd let you wear panties today, you'd have had to lose them to get my mark right here." He grinned, rubbing his fingers over the spot in question.

Samantha moaned softly, her eyes drifting closed. She lifted one leg across to straddle the chair, folding her arms over the chair back and hiding her face against them.

Everett leaned close, running a soothing hand down her back with a soft "good, girl," before lifting her skirt and tucking it up around her neckline, baring her entire bottom half.

"Well, if that isn't the prettiest little canvas I ever did see," Max drawled. "Let's get this stencil going and once we're happy with the placement we'll get to ink."

In a matter of minutes, Samantha heard the buzzing drone that indicated Max was ready to start. "All right, little Sammy," Max patted her leg. "Deep breath, now. I need you to be really still. On your spine here? This is going to hurt."

The first line of needle-fire dug across her skin and Samantha groaned, clenching her eyes shut, holding herself steady by sheer force of will. It's worth enduring any pain, she reminded herself, to wear Everett's mark.

The buzzing was endless, line after line of needle-fire burning her skin, digging into her. Samantha clenched her eyes against the tears. Everett's hand squeezed tight around hers, his gentle fingers brushed her hair off her face, and she fought to keep her focus on that. On her mind's eye image of her finished tattoo, Everett's mark on her. Permanently.

Finally, the buzzing drone stopped, the heavy thunk of gun hitting tray signalled Max was finished. "Let's get you up to have a look, little Sammy." Max helped her stand, stretching and led her over to a full length mirror, sliding a smaller hand mirror into her hands as he turned her back to the mirror. "What do you think?"

Samantha stared, it was the fiery red of a fresh new tattoo, but it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She was marked. She was owned. She turned a bright, shining smile on Max. "Max! It's stunning!" She leapt at him to wrap her arms around him in an exuberant hug, the top of her head barely reaching the middle of his chest. "Thank you!"

Max chuckled, "you're very welcome, little Sammy, but maybe we should get it covered up, hey?"

She pulled back, blushing fiercely, finally remembering her state of undress. She whirled to Everett. "Do you… like it?"
 
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"Now... about the payment."

Samantha reached for her purse, expecting to pay Max as she had for each of their previous stops, but Everett surprised her with a grin, pulling out his own wallet. "Oh I totally got this."

She felt a rush of pleasure squeeze her chest. Now it truly was Everett's mark. In every way.

The Ice Queen's voice whispered in the back of her head, mocking her sappy, emotional reaction, but Samantha ruthlessly pushed her away, unwilling to let her cold-hearted bitterness ruin this moment. She wished she could see it again, but she could feel the heat of it, the sting. That would have to do.

"You'll have to come back, little Sammy, once it's healed," Max grinned down at her, "so I can get a picture for my portfolio." He nodded to the open binder of tattoo photos on the table in his waiting area.

Samantha blushed, eyes dropping, suddenly sharply reminded of the USB drive tucked into her purse carrying copies of other photos and videos of her. Photos most definitely NOT for public viewing. But a photo of her mark… that was…

"Max…" Everett's voice was low, warning.

Samantha looked up at Max with a bright smile, "Only if you give me a copy of the print," she winked.

Max chuckled. "I think that can be arranged."

With a final thanks, Everett took her hand and led her outside, stopping to check his watch, his stomach growling.

Samantha didn't know what time it was, but after the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on today, she was starving. The espresso from this morning was long gone, and the bottle of water she'd had while Max worked his magic did little to fill the void.

She watched, wide-eyed with anticipation as Everett slowly leaned in close before diving in and devouring her lips in a hard, desperate kiss as he wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. Hot words breathed into her ear, driving shivers down her nape, "You are mine... forever. I will NEVER let you go. No matter where you go... I will always be there."

Samantha threw her arms around Everett's back, pressing her face into his throat. His deep growl sounded so sincere, almost torn from him as though he didn’t want to admit it. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching at the back of his vest.

She wished she could believe it.

She wished she could tell him that she wanted nothing more than to be his… forever. That she would give up anything… everything… to be his pet, his slave… that she was in serious danger of falling so deeply in love with him that she would never be free again. She swallowed against the lump squeezing her throat.

He would never believe it.

Not as long as the photos and video that were currently burning a hole in her purse still existed. Not as long as the copies he had hidden, who knows where, still existed. Samantha had no idea what she could do about either one, so all that was left to her was to hold onto Everett as tightly and as long as she could, and savour the fact that, even if for only a moment, she was his.

Finally Everett pulled back again, taking her hand and leading her down the block to the Sandwich Factory seating her at one of its outdoor tables. He leaned close to breathe against her ear, "You get to eat... what I allow you to eat... pet," before walking away with a wink to make their order.


Samantha blinked after him. Allow? What he allows? She could feel the cold disdain growing inside her, the icy anger. Just who the hell did Everett think he was to dictate anything to Samantha Noelle? She gave orders, she didn't fucking take them! No one told her what she could or couldn't do. She be damned if she'd let her fucking executive assistant tell her what she was allowed to eat! Her fists slammed on the table and she sat up straight, shifting, stretching.

She felt a sudden ache from her tattoo as she straightened, a sharp reminder, and the memory of Everett's embrace, his voice washing over her. 'You are mine... forever. I will NEVER let you go.' The icy anger melted away under the burn, and Samantha slumped back down, holding tight to the physical reminder of her mark.

At that moment, Everett returned placing two trays of food on the table, settling beside her.

"My pet. This is one of the best sub shops on the planet. A rule, however, I expect you to follow. When you are in my company, you ask permission to eat. Think you can do that?"

Samantha looked at the tray in front of her. One of her favourite Italian clubs, with the dressing on the side, because she hated a sandwich that was dripping with dressing. The homemade chips that she loved. A tall glass of water because she tried to avoid the empty calories of sugary drinks when she ate. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes.

Everett knew all her favourites. He knew just how she loved her morning coffee. He knew her favourite flowers. He knew her favourite wine and her favourite chocolates. He already knew, somehow, in a single day spent together, how much she loved his big hand engulfing hers, and how much she loved snuggling against his shoulder. He knew how to make her whimper and writhe and how to play with her body until she climaxed like she'd never cum before, whether she wanted it or not.

He knew everything about her and she knew next to nothing about him. He deserved so much better.

She looked over at Everett's tray. He liked Cuban. That was something. And fries and iced tea. She blinked again. She would just have to pay more attention. That's all. She would just have to learn.

A tiny, confused crinkle appeared between Everett's brows as he watched Samantha staring at the sandwich in front of her. He could see the tears welling in her eyes as she looked between her own tray and his.

"It can't be as hard as all that, can it pet?"

Samantha blinked at Everett's concerned tone, her throat tight and aching. He deserved so much better.

"How about this…" he coaxed, dipping a French fry in ketchup and holding it up, "would you like a fry?" He waved it in front of her with a grin and she could not hold back a soft chuckle.

"yes, sir, may I please have a fry?" Samantha reached for it, but Everett pushed her hand away, holding the fry out. She locked her eyes onto his and opened her mouth, taking the small offering. She chewed slowly and swallowed, extending her tongue to lick away the small smear of ketchup on her lips.

Everett extended a finger, swiping it against the corner of her mouth. "you missed some."

Samantha held his eyes with her own as she reached up to grab Everett's hand, pulling it closer as she opened her lips, wrapping them around his finger, laving the smear of ketchup clean with a soft swirl of her tongue, lightly scraping his finger with her teeth as she released it from her mouth with a soft slurp.

They sat frozen, locked in the moment… and then Samantha's stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl.

She released Everett's hand with a small chuckle, sitting back as she looked at her sandwich, then back up at him with a soft smile. "May I please eat my lunch, sir?"
 
Samantha moaned under Everett's bruising kiss. He used one hand to hold her wrists in a grip of steel at her back, his thumb idly brushing along the edges of her gauze-covered mark, while the other hand curved around her throat, holding her in place. Both were a relentless reminder of his control over her, and, along with his voracious kisses and heated glances, were sending flames licking along her core, leaving her clit throbbing and pussy empty, clenching desperately, aching to be filled.

She was hyperaware of the faces whizzing by in the heavy traffic, faces that could see her as easily as she saw them. She could feel her skin flushing with self-consciousness and need and dropped her head forward, hoping to hide her face behind a curtain of hair.

Everett leaned back a moment, sliding his thighs wider, forcing her own further apart in turn, leaving her grinding helplessly against empty air. She whimpered softly. Everett was in complete control of her body, and only he could allow her the touch, the friction she craved.

"please…" she whispered, but he only grinned. His free hand slid along her plunging neckline, brushing the shoulders of the dress aside, to bare her bra. Her soft panting breaths were heaving her breasts in a steady rhythm, one nipple beginning to peek over the lace cups.

"Looks like someone wants to come out and play," Everett chuckled, running the index finger of his free hand slowly, teasingly, along the lace edges, one after the other, freeing Samantha's nipples.

Everett tugged sharply on one nipple, rolling and twisting it, while his mouth engulfed the other, licking and sucking, scraping his teeth across it.

Samantha moaned, arching back, pushing her breasts towards him, jolts of electricity firing between her nipples and clit.

"Hold your position," Everett ordered, releasing his hold on her wrists to slide his hand along her quivering thigh.

Samantha trembled, shifting her hands, preparing to steady herself, when a sharp smack fell on her ass. "Do NOT move those hands," Everett growled.

She yelped, surprised, but clutched her hands around her own wrists, holding them in position behind her back.

Everett's hands moved back to her tight aching nipples, idly flicking them, tugging sharply and then massaging some more. "Open your eyes, pet. Tell me what you feel." He leaned in, flicking a nipple with his tongue. "Tell me what you want." He slid one hand down her quivering belly, sliding two fingers through her wet folds, circling her clit with his thumb. "Tell Daddy what you need."

Samantha gasped, grinding against his fingers. She blinked her eyes open, molten chocolate pools, need shimmering in their depths as they met and held his. What did she feel? Exposed. Bared. Not to the leering and honking people who sped past on the street, but to Everett. To herself. He had seen a need in her. A need to submit. To be controlled. To be owned. A need she'd never admitted to herself, and yet he'd recognised it in her.

She moaned, bucking against the maddeningly slow motion of his fingers, the too light, barely there caressing of his thumb. "more, please…" she whimpered, panting softly, "I want more…"

Everett's fingers stilled barely inside her, his thumb barely touching her clit.

"please," she shuddered, aching, too empty, "need more, need to cum, please."

Everett leaned up, breathing into her ear, "help yourself, little pet, fuck yourself on Daddy's fingers."

Samantha ground her hips with a soft cry, bucking and twisting against Everett's thumb, riding his fingers faster and deeper with every bounce. "please, please, please…"

"But remember little pet, you've already earned one punishment for coming without permission, you don't want to make the same mistake again."

Samantha whimpered, too close to the edge to even think about stopping. Too close to even be able to. Desperation clawed at her throat, her pleas a husky whisper, "please, need to cum, please, Sir." Raw need shone from her tear-filled eyes, "I can't… please… please may I cum?"

"Cum, pet."

Samantha flew, climax shuddering through her. Finally she collapsed, trembling against Everett's chest, pressing her head under his chin, soft panting breaths blowing across his chest. "thank you, Sir."
 
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