Randy Reporting

“He’s next,” the young woman in the sleek black gown whispered into her cell phone. “He’s wearing what looks like an Armani Suit, black shoes and gold cuff links... Yeah, he’s wearing that cocky grin too. He looks like a million bucks, then again he’s worth several... So are you though. Are you sure... I’m sorry. Of course you’re sure.”

Marie looked around and noticed Abby Wentworth, heir to the several diamond mines, grinning wide as she won the bid for Taylor Adams, the Senator of Ohio’s eldest son. “Game time, Connie,” Marie said and closed the phone.

She took her place at the back of the room, nodding her head toward the auctioneer, who knew she was to have his attention throughout the bidding for Randolph Foster, CEO of the Chicago Sun-Times.

Laughter came from the stage and she knew she’d missed one of Foster’s cocky jokes. She smirked wondering how long it would take for Connie to wash that look from his face. He slipped off his jacket, slowly spun around to show off his sculptured torso. Connie was going to be very happy with her purchase, at least she thought she would be... Marie had doubts.

The bidding began and soon Marie was caught up in the thrill of purchasing Foster for her long-time college friend. She continued to raise her manicured palm, never flinching as the bid began to rise at an alarming rate. Connie could afford it, but no one knew she was bidding for Connie. Marie also wasn’t known to the elite of Chicago, but she’d come with an invitation and that was all she needed to get into the Charity Auction.

Connie had called her several weeks ago and begged her to attend the auction. There was a gentleman that was going to put up on the plate and she wanted him. Marie knew what “wanted” meant. She and Connie were cut from the same cloth, two peas in a pod. She’d happily agreed and flew into Chicago, stayed in Connie suite at the Hilton and then when the big night came to pass, Connie waited patiently, or as patiently as she could in her condo on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Soon Marie felt a squeeze on her knee and she jerked slightly, chastising herself for becoming lost in the thoughts of her and her friend and all the things they had done together as roommates. “Yes?” she asked the beautiful brunette that had touched her.

“You won,” she whispered.

Marie grinned wide and turned to look at the striking man that was walking toward her. “Yes, it looks like I did.” She rose and presented her hand to Randolph. “Mister Foster, how lovely to meet you. Come let us find a more suitable place to get acquainted. You may call me Marie.”

She slipped her arm around his and led him away. Soft chuckles of congratulations were tossed left and right, accompanied with whispers as to who the woman was and what had possessed her to place fifteen thousand on cocky and arrogant Randolph Foster.

Randolph Foster strolled out, displaying with pride and humor not only his fine clothes, but hinting at what lay beneath. A relative newcomer to the city, he was either loved or hated, though sometimes both. He had bought out the majority shares of the Sun-Times, because he figured a newspaper would be fun to play with. The man had made a fortune in the stock market, and that was before his father died, leaving billion in assets to his only son.

But money was not the reason his smile was so wide tonight. Not the reason he practically pranced about to show off and raise the bid; feed the frenzy. His reasons were far more vindictive. His soon to be 2nd ex wife, Carol, would hear about this, if she was not actually watching now, and it would piss her off to no end. He wasn’t technically a bachelor, but tonight, he was sure going to act the part.

After much joking and playing about on stage, the bidding was over, and Randy apologized to all the poor, poor women that lost out as he made his way back to victor.

At her greeting he kissed the back of her hand, grinning like a mad man, as if posing for constant cameras…which was not far from the truth. He had several of his own reporters here ensuring that all possible images of him with other women could be captured and sent to carol…after they graced the pages of his new toy. He looked the small women up and down, pleased that such an attractive young woman fought so hard to ‘buy’ him. “Why thank you Marie, that sounds like a delightful plan.” He winked his striking powder blue eye at her, and turned slightly to wave goodbye to all the other women, and loudly wish them well, and better luck next year.

Returning his attentions to the dark haired minx on his arm, he gazed into the chocolate eyes and imagined himself in for quite the treat tonight. “Please, lead the way Marie, I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.” Several more flashes snapped, capturing his perfect, wide smile and excited eyes for the world to later view and read about.

Confidence oozed from every pore on Randolph Foster. Marie however had her own confidence and continued to press herself against Foster as if she were simply in awe of him. “I have a car arranged for us,” she told him, letting her fingers stroke the warm arm hidden by the expensive suit.

They paused and she took her wrap from the attendant at the door of the banquet room. “Thank you,” she whispered, slipping a hundred into the young man’s palm. “Is the Holtman car ready?”

“Yes,” the attendant said with a grin, as he pocketed the hefty tip.

“Wonderful,” she answered and then turned to gaze up at Randolph. “You are familiar with the Holtman name aren’t you?” she asked as they made their way through the lobby of the Grand Wayne Center, where the auction had been taking place.

“We will be leaving through the back. It is just a quirk I have, not everyone needs to know our business. . .don’t you agree?”

Several men, the size of large football players, suddenly flanked them, pushing away reporters and cameras. “Privacy is something not only I enjoy, but Constance insists on.”

She said nothing else as she waited for the questions to fall from his lips, but continued to lead him toward the back of the hall, where another man, dressed in black waited for them to exit into the back alley.

He was surprised first by the actions of the gorilla like guards; they could be called nothing less, and then by her words. Constance Holtman – his business rival, CEO of the Tribune, and apparently not a fan of his antics at the Sun-Times. She had made remarks in public about the shameful things he had done, turning the once respected paper into a crazed propaganda machine. He figured she was just jealous of his success, as scandal after scandal, and a few conspiracies toss in for good measure cranked up his sales. He sensationalized everything, twisted stories, and put a slant on everything. Very few things were outright works of fiction; he would leave that for the Enquirer and their like, but few things could be said to be works of truth anymore either.

So over this, in his short time an unspoken rivalry had grown between the new baroness and himself. He’d met her at some social events, and enjoyed her sight, if not her tongue. But now he was enjoying nothing, as two enormous men lead him through the building and out the back where no one would notice as he was ‘invited’ into a limo. He wondered if they would dare stuff him inside if he decided to refuse.

He needed to regain control of the situation, and think things through. What kind of crazy bitch was Constance after all? Scare tactics would hardly get him to leave town, and its not like she could drum up any scandal or embarrassing situation he would not enjoy printing himself. He took his seat and eyed the women who had obviously been a proxy bidder. “So that’s how a new face in town can afford not to loose, no matter the cost. Tell me, did Ms. Holtman purchase me for you, or herself for the next 24 hours?”

He grinned, figuring the woman just wanted to make his life hell for all the time he was allowed. He’d play along, the only bad press he didn’t want, was that he was a poor sport.

Marie smiled. “You’re brighter than Constance believes. I’m glad. I was worried she was spending good money on something very poor in quality. To answer your question, she’s purchased you and perhaps you’re divorce is more than you can handle. . .this isn’t a 24 hour auction, you’re at her disposal for a week.”

She slipped out of the limo. “I’m not going with you. That’s just rude. But you should call the Vice-President of the paper, because he’s going to be covering your ass for a while. Connie already has her week free. Then again, you big leaguers, don’t really work do you, just racket ball and golf.”

She winked, closed the door and then tapped the hood twice signaling the driver to take off. She watched with glee that she hadn’t felt since collage as the limo pulled away and then merged with the Chicago nightlife. She walked back inside, escorted by one of the Holtman security guards and then found herself in her own limo, quietly cruising back to her hotel room.

As the car moved through the city she called Constance. “One angry businessman is on his way,” she chuckled. She hung up and knew that within two hours Randolph would be greeted by Constance’s stuffy butler, Henry.

****

Constance hung up the phone and ran her palm down the red evening mini-dress she wore. Her fingers were painted fresh, the color of sin accented her jeweled digits. “Henry,” she addressed her butler of ten years. “You will escort Mister Foster to the library and then you are welcomed to retire for the week. I know you and Maddie are looking forward to your little vacation. I don’t want to keep you, any longer than necessary.”

Henry nodded his head and took his leave by the door. The driver would call when they were five minutes from the house and then he’d open the gate when the lights glowed on the drive.

Constance took a drink of her wine and pressed her palm to her stomach. “He’s worth it,” she told herself as she pictured the handsome forty year old on his knees begging for her touch.

Randolph’s grin faded, just a bit, but he knew she noticed. Had he really forgotten it was a week? He’d check his pocket after she let, since she declared she would. No sense in giving her the satisfaction of watching him double check. The rules to the ‘contract’ were in his coat pocket.

As she moved to go, he beamed at her again and called after, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you Marie, perhaps we’ll bump into each other again sometime?” The door slammed shut and he was left alone in the back as the car moved beneath him.

He reached into his coat and examined the rules. Sure enough - one week. One week of ‘servitude’ to some rich, obviously crazy bitch that hated him. He wondered how good of a sport he’d be. He knew he had nothing to do all week either, and would not be missed. His only regret is that his chief editor might let slip something that was not trashed in his particular style.

He helped himself to the bottle of wine in the ice bucket while he rode in solitude toward the inevitable. “Good sport, just keep thinking you’re a good sport,” he muttered to himself after the second glass. Eventually the ride ended, and the door opened where he stepped out onto a view of the lake. A large beach house, beautiful in every way seemed to accent the scene more then detract from the natural beauty of the site. “Thank you," he smiled at the driver and walked unasked, or directed to the door. Before he could knock, or ring, the door swung open, where he was greeted by an older gentleman, who then ushered him into a library. It seemed Ms. Holtman enjoyed the waiting game. Suited him fine that would just be less time of this week that was awkward and uncomfortable.

He took a seat in a soft leather chair, and waited for his doom.

Constance watched her butler pull out of the drive, the limo driver was next as he exchanged the limo for a sporty coupe she’d purchased him last year for Christmas. Twenty minutes later she casually walked into the library and smiled at the man who looked casually annoyed, but trying very well to appear confident and content.

“Hello there Randy,” she said with a smirk to her red painted lips. Her dress sparkled as the light hit it and she felt the warmth of the wine add to the warmth of her skin. “You look snappy this evening.”

She took a seat across from him, crossing her long legs and dragging one manicured finger around the rim of her glass. “I apologize for not being able to attend the auction this evening and sending Marie to take my place. I had things to take care of here and knew that she would handle you beautifully. She told me you were quite dashing up there on stage, why not show me how you paraded yourself in front of all the ladies. . .as you do, I’ll let you know the rules of the week. There are several and I’ll only go over them once.”

Her gaze moved over his and she lifted one brow waiting for him to “strut his stuff” for her. She grinned. “Don’t be shy, after all... we’re going to be together all week, and believe me, what you’re wearing now... will be the most you have all during your stay here.” Constance allowed her words to sink in and made no attempt at hiding the lust clearly written in her eyes.

Randy watched her glide in, and set herself. She moved like a large, and dangerous cat that walked in its own leisure, knowing it was the master of its realm. She had always appeared confident before, but tonight she looked…different. Amazing. Gorgeous. But different. She grinned like she knew she held all the cards.

Sex was never officially within the rules at these auctions, but just as it was never ‘expected’ it was also seldom denied. The fact he always wondered what the younger women would be like in bed beat on his conscious; it looked like he’d find out tonight.

“Sure, why not.” His perfect smile shown off as he rose. “I’m not sure of your game here. Its no secret you hate me, but lets just remember who is a good sport about all this tomorrow , ok?” A night between those legs, and he’d be a pretty happy man, no matter what her angle was. He was sure she had some plot in mind; he just needed time to figure it out.

He stood, and paraded himself before her, acting casual about it. None could say the man lacked a sense of humor, though modesty was not a virtue he was often credited with. He slowly hinted at what lay beneath the jacket, and then finally took it off, tossing it over her crossed legs. His tie came next, but he left he now loose cloth dangle to either side of his neck, as the top buttons of his shirt were unfastened.

“Like what you see Constance? Maybe we’ll get along this week. Maybe there is a softer side to you after all?” he stopped, hands in his pockets looking as relaxed as if her were simply a guy working late and addressing some co-workers. All things were business, this was no different. He’d find her price, whatever it is she was after, and he’d have fun with it – as he did in all business. It was all pleasure to him.

Constance kept her face masked, but inside she was quite hungry to see more of her purchase. She lifted a brow, rose to her feet and then began to walk around Randolph. “First off, no more cologne. You reek and believe me it is not something I find appealing, and you Randolph wear too much.”

Her fingers skimmed down his back as she stood behind him. “Second these clothes... well... after I have given you permission to leave this room, you will go upstairs. The first room on the left is a guest room, but,” she moved around to the front of him, her fingers continually brushing his skin, “it’s not yours, it is simply there for you to change.”

Her gaze fixed on his for a few seconds, before she went back to her chair. “Finish disrobing and then you are dismissed. You’ll find this evening’s attire. Now the night is late, so we’ll only have a brief session this evening, but first the rules.”

“You’ll address me as Mistress. Not Ma’am. Or Woman. Girl. Connie. Constance. Only Mistress. This title is one that you will remember or I will find a way to ingrain it into your soul.” She lifted a brow, but continued to list off her demands. “If you have a question ask it, but make sure you end it with Mistress. You’ll thank me for the right to pleasure me. You’ll thank me when I correct you. You’ll come to me with whatever tool you believe is appropriate for your punishment, chose wisely because if I feel you’ve chosen the wrong item, then I will not be happy.”

“You’ll understand more after you’ve changed. Be quick, you have fifteen minutes. I expect you back here and on time. Let us not start off this evening on a sour note.”

Already she itched inside, wanting to see him in the black leather and harness she’d purchased the first week after meeting Randolph Foster. He’d intrigued her then as a lover, but annoyed the Hell out of her as a business rival. It wasn’t until the auction listed the potential bachelors that she decided to take the intuitive and make the cocky SOB her plaything.

Randolph looked at her wide-eyed. There was no way to hide his utter surprise. Shocked, his mouth gaped open half a second before he collected that much of himself. Little else disguised how his mind spun.

She moved away to watch him comply, still wearing an expression as if she just stated the most logical, obvious thing in the world, and it would be done. Then, just briefly, a corner of her mouth turned upward. She smiled at seeing him so taken back. That put him more at easy, and he started reeling in all the things she said, and putting them into context. It was a joke. Surely. She wanted to toy with him, see him off his game. She was good, and she’d already won round one. That was fine, plenty of game left.

“Why of course ‘Mistress’,” the word stated with enough sarcasm to kill a delinquent teenager. “Anything you say.” He looked her straight in the eye and slowly, calmly undid every last button on his shirt and peeling it open; letting it drop simply to the floor. Shoes were untied and kicked off as gracefully as he could manage. Again with a steady gaze he released his pants and let them drop, exposing what he had previously thought a great idea: Silk tuxedo styled boxers. His grin returned, remembering the joke, as he stood there in socks and silk, hold his arms out at an angle. “Is the ‘Mistress’ pleased.?” This time he couldn’t hold back completely and a single chuckle followed. “Shall I go get changed now 'Mistress'?”

He figured she had a Santa suit, or maybe the Easter bunny; something ridiculously embarrassing of course, so he could prance around for her to laugh at. He saw her game, he was sure of it.

“You’ll learn,” she whispered and raised a brow. “When you get upstairs, you’ll see how serious I am.”

She stood up and walked back to him. Placing her palm against his chest, she stared into his eyes. “Randolph, this week you’re mine. You signed a contract. Now, we both know there is nothing in the contract that states you have to humiliate yourself or even enjoy yourself, but let me explain something to you,” her hand trailed down his chest, to rest comfortably against his stomach, “I find you cocky, arrogant, full of yourself and a real pain in the ass. . .but you are attractive, with that said that is why I have purchased you.”

Her hand traveled lower. “You’ll learn what I like and what I don’t like. How quickly you learn is up to you. You’re tone of voice, your mannerism, everything you do will reflect on how you are treated. I have allowed you, your moment of cockiness and you have slandered my title. I suggest you simply walk up to the room, change into what lies on the bed and then return here to me as instructed earlier. If you return with the attitude you have now, then be prepared to be punished. If you chose to gather your clothing and walk away, be prepared for some retalition in the future. You know I am powerful. You know I will make your life very difficult socially as well as professionally.”

Constance’s hand moved to his shaft, which she toyed with for several quick strokes. “By the end of the week, we’ll both know if you are worthy to be my pet.”

As she held his cock, she stepped up and pressed her lips to his. Her tongue slipped inside his warm mouth while her hand painted his dick with her fingers and palm. She stepped away just as he was leaning in to taste more of her. “For now you are not allowed to touch me. Only when you address me with respect will you be given that gift. Now go and change, before I forget how new you are to the game.”

She reclaimed her seat, trying hard to ignore the ache in her loins and the slickness of her pussy.

Her mouth felt almost as great as the hand massaging his cock through the silk. As she broke away from him he wanted to whimper. Holy crap she was good. She was the most elaborate prankster he’d ever met, and he figured his college buddies would forever and always hold that title.

But his mind began to wonder…was she playing, or did she really believe all this, and expect it? He face said it was expected, and might as well be done with and recorded in stone.

“Yes…Mistress.” The term came out, still uneasy, but no longer holding a mocking tone. His voice told her how confused he was, but he turned to go, as she had told him. Up the stairs and into the indicated room. What would it be, a giant chicken suit? A panda? He closed the door and flicked on the light, and gasped aloud at what little greeted him. He stared at it, pondering how the hell one would even put it on, should they choose to do such a thing.

He paced beside the bed, never taking his eyes off the leather web with a sack for his sack. It couldn’t be called clothes, or an outfit, or anything else. A web. A harness. It hit him like a freight train; the bitch was serious.

What hit him at nearly the same time and surprised him just as greatly, was that realization sent a jolt up his spine, to explode in his brain, originating in his balls. He scolded himself silently how such a thing could turn him on, and looked back at the harness. He toyed with the idea and debated. An inner struggle raged, until he knew he was on the fence; either walking away or walking out in this, determined to see how far she took her game.

Finally thoughts of his wife crossed his mind, still not technically divorced. Another bimbo he’d grown tired of, and basically was paying to get rid of her. Maybe he needed a little spice, but this?

14 minutes after he departed, in what seemed like an eternity, he shyly walked down the stairs as best he could without the small leather pouch rubbing him oddly. He was relieved no one was around to see his awkward decent. He tried bucking up, and standing tall, hoping he had the damn thing on correctly. He had gained a measure of success, strolling into the library once more, as if the clothes still piled on the floor were on his back. He couldn’t speak, it would kill the façade of confidence he had built up, so instead just faced her, and matched her glare for glare.

Constance sipped her wine as she waited for what to her seemed an eternity. The harness would not have taken him fifteen minutes, but getting up the nerve to wear it and then walk down the steps and back to her, would have. She knew she’d been overly generous, but she also knew she had a powerful man in her home. In reality he could probably snap her in two, if he so wished it, but she never really worried about that. She’d done a lot of research on Randolph and though he was a womanizer, a cocky son-of-a-bitch, he’d never struck a woman even the ones that he divorced.

She heard his return down the steps and took a deep breath, calming her excitement so when he reappeared she met him with a cool glance. Her lips rose in a warm smile and her eyes dragged slowly down his hard body. She stepped over to her desk and lifted the next part of his ensemble from the top.

As she walked toward him she licked her lips unconsciously. “You’ve pleased me,” she whispered and stepped up to him. She lifted the object she’d just retrieved from her desk and showed him how it worked.

“This collar is for you to wear this evening. It is made of leather and steel, buckles like a belt and this loop, well it will serve many purposes, but the first will be for the leash which I’ll be attaching in just a moment.”

She reached up and pressed her body against his as she secured the buckle to his neck. “A perfect fit,” she whispered and kissed his neck. “You really should talk to your cleaner about privacy. Your neck size was something I could have guessed on, but I wanted this made special for you,” she told him.

Stepping back she ran a finger down the center of his chest and then tugged the loop at the center. Her gaze held his and she again found herself hungry to sample his many delights. “I have wanted you from the first moment you were seen at Rio’s. I was there that night, the night you were celebrating your take over. I wanted to see you in my dungeon, spread eagle, begging me to let you come.”

Her hand moved lower and she squeezed the leather sack that held his balls and cock. “I’ve wanted to feel you fuck me, to listen to your voice grow raspy and needy. You’ll want all these things when I’m done with you,” she told him and then once more step free of him. “Remember no touching.” She walked back to the desk and opened the top drawer. The sound of chain scrapping along the wood made a tingle slide up and down her spine. She walked back over to him and reached up. “Once I clip this to you, you’re nothing more than a means to an end. . . I promise you it will be a satisfying one for the both of us. Perhaps even we will come to respect each other in a different way, or even come to care for one another like lover’s do. . .but if not then at least we have both taken something from this little experience.”

“Are you ready?” she asked, poised to clip the leash onto the collar and lead him to her lower rooms.

His mind spun out of control. No doubting her now, she was as serious as a heart attack. But the way she moved and spoke, made him want to have one, his heart beat so fast. His lips quivered, in what might have been words, could only his brain form them, but none came.

He looked over the woman, her short red dress matching both her lips and hair, not the mention fingernails and heeled shoes. She was the embodiment of sin, and he couldn’t help but let his cock grow inside the small pouch. Even in her extra high heels she was shorter then he, though not by much. At 5’ 11” he still felt she might as well tower over him at this moment. His sense of reality had been shattered. Usually he was the one to speak so frankly to a woman, and cower her into a good fuck, but now he knew what the other side must feel like, though none of his women were ever standing in leather straps and now a collar!

Her unblinking, perfectly painted green eyes met his when he could stomach enough to face them. She really, really was serious, and he had no idea what to do. Frantically thinking back on how he had gotten into this position he grasped for the answer. Be a good sport, play along, see how far she’d take it…. that was how he got here, damn him!

Still, his cock strained against the leather, if his mind was at a loss for what to do, his dick certainly was not. Sure he had always wondered what kind of a fuck she’d be, but never gave it more thought, being a practical man, it was not good to dwell on bedding your rival. It seemed her philosophy on the matter was quite different – custom made collar and all!

Finally his brain, tired and worn gave up, and let the only confident part of him decide. With a shaking voice and equally unsure nod, “Yes Mistress.” He wondered just how much more shocks he could take before an ambulance was called into the evenings activities.

She smiled at him and clipped the leash onto his collar. “Very good,” she whispered and then stepped back. “You’ll have to show me how well you adapt to change, right now you’ve done very well, but this is child’s play really, so for now you will simply be boy. Nothing more, nothing less. A simple word for a beginner.”

“Follow me closely, but not enough that if I stop suddenly you smack into me. That would not be wise. It may take you some time to walk at my shorter pace, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. Keep your head up and your eyes straight, you’ll have plenty of time to gaze at my home and my ass.”

Constance tugged gently on the leash and led her boy out of the room. The clicks of her stilettos sounded on the hardwood floor, muffled only when they crossed a throw rug. “I’ll not be overly aggressive with you this evening, so there is no real need for a safe word, but tomorrow we will settle on one. Tonight is just a bit of sport, an appetizer for more exotic events.”

She said these words as they moved down a small hallway and into her private offices. A door to the left of the room stood locked and she quickly punched in a security code. “If you were to be a permanent sub then you would be allowed the code to gain entry into this room, so you could prepare it for me. You still may, but we’ll see how these first few days go for us.”

The door’s lock clicked from their holding place and she pulled the door open. A cool draft washed over them and she shivered. “It gets warmer as we go further down. Don’t fret boy, we’ll both be plenty warm soon.”

Carefully she led him down the steps. The walls dimly lit. “I had this constructed a few years ago. It is quite fun and well... you can see for yourself that it looks very authentic.” The stairs opened up to a large room, which would have served as a foyer in any other home, but for Constance it served as a viewing room. Velvet couches lined the walls, a table rested in the center. Rock walls hugged the frame of the basement structure and gas wall sconces lit the darker corners of the room.

“Sometimes I invite friends over. Marie is one of them as is her sub Adrian. This week you will be spared an audience.” She walked through a narrow hall, where barred doors on each side opened up. “To your left you’ll find an array of assorted things I like to use. You’ll experience most if not all of these things.”

“Tonight though we’ll play in here,” she said and turned to the other room, where a large bed sat in the center of the room. The covering was red, the wooden frame had both four posters as well as a barred headboard of thick hardwood, stained a deep cherry color. Stainless steel rings were secured into the frame at various different measurements. Several rings hung from the ceiling and in some of them chains draped down.

Constance stepped in and turned on the dimmer switch on the wall up, adding a bit more light to the room. The floor was rock, but a thick red carpet lay across the center of it. “Tell me what you’re thinking boy... and be honest. That is the most important rule. You’ve accepted your fate, so you should voice your concerns when they arise, that way I can address them.”

Randy tired to digest her words, comprehension still fully eluding him. A younger woman led him on a leash into what he could only dread. Still, he managed to lock his eyes forward, if only because it helped keep him from looking like a panic stricken fool.

The decent was cold, as he had even less then her to protect him, but as promised the floor opened up and it as indeed warmer. At first he relaxed, a few couches were nothing to fear. They even looked comfortable, maybe she just liked dressing up and talking dirty…

His hopes were crushed when he noticed the door and went through it. Things that looked like they belonged to the Spanish Inquisition lined the corner, and she promised to use most if not all!

Stepping into the bedroom he noticed in the corner of his eye several large object that might generously be called furniture; some he had seen in fetish porn he had looked up on a whim, but it was always a young girl on the implements, not a panicked forty year old man with hints of grey at his temples.

The ‘bed’ did not look much more inviting, its serious thick wood and sparkling metal rings; it sent a chill down his spine. She addressed him again, the contrast of the clearly younger woman calling him ‘boy’ should have been comical, but he wasn’t laughing.

He cleared his throat, in hopes of dislodging the huge lump that took up residence there. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I should be flattered you want me, or scared shitless. I’ll confess to being completely out of my element. You certainly have me off balance, Mistress.” He didn’t forget to add her title, and it was said plainly without any hint of sarcasm, but his entire speech was delivered as matter of fact as he could mange, and took some amount of pride at the amount of success he had.

“I am worried over what I don’t yet know or understand. I can’t even think about tomorrow, but I did say I’d play along, so here I am. Mistress.”

He tried to match her stare, manipulated as he was, he was still a strong man, just as powerful as her…or so he hoped.

“Admitting you don’t know everything is already a step in the right direction,” she told him as she led him to the bed. “You’ve come into town, trying to bully your way into everything that we, the locals, hold dear. You’ve twisted the truth to benefit your paper and not in a good way either. You’ve insulted the profession as well as made a once respected publication into nothing short of a glorified National Enquirer. Now you may not print something about a one hundred and fifty year old grandmother giving birth to the Alien love child of a former dead rock star, but you’re coming close.”

They stood at the foot of the bed and she released the leash, carrying it over to a table where different toys rested. “I’m on the pill and I’ve checked your history; neither of us carry diseases so we will not be using protection.”

Her palm ran down his the sack of the leather harness. “You’re not as aroused as you were earlier. Don’t worry though we both know it is the fear of the unknown that has caused this.”

“You are my servant, a piece of property for me to use till I tire of you, or in our case a week, unless you desire to remain mine indefinitely, then a whole new world would open up to you. As your Mistress, I will never be on my knees for you so get the image of you towering over me someday out of your head. It isn’t going to happen. First you need to be hard and I am over dressed. Undress me, but be sure to use what skills I’m sure you possess to arouse me. Do not enter my sex. Do not try to make me come. You are to use your hands only, not your lips or your tongue or your cock. Just your fingers.”

She stepped back and softened her expression and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Come boy, show me how skilled your fingers are.”

His head swam, was this shit really happening? Of course it was, and now not only did she have him in a collar and web of leather, but also broke a rule he had for the bedroom…not that his rules seemed to mean much at the moment. He hated bringing up work in the bedroom. He wondered if this room counted as a bedroom…

Business and pleasure had always been one in the same to him, but he hated office talk after hours, it got in the way of the current game. And what was this talk of choosing to stay forever, the bitch was clearly insane. Who on earth would subject themselves to feeling like this?

But he swallowed it and stepped forward, as if fighting his fear he was fighting her. Trembling hands reached out, but then fell back to his sides. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, and with it he hoped much of this anxiety would go away. It was just sex, he told himself. Kinky, strange, perhaps deranged sex, but just sex nonetheless. He was a good sport, he reminded himself.

Once again his hands reached out for her, far more steady this time. A thought of strangling her flashed through his mind, but was brushed aside by lust. His fingers grazed her shoulder, drifting across the impossibly smooth skin. A woman this hard should feel like concrete, not silk. But the simple touch warmed him inside, and his other hand reached her to caress the opposite arm. Fingers drifted up her neck, and behind her ears. Stepping closer still, almost chest to chest, his hands cascaded down her back, not only teasing them both, but learning what it would take to get her out of this dress. He couldn’t believe he was doing this! But the notion of her out of that dress did excite him. Maybe they’d be on closer terms once she was as nude as he….he could only hope.

Fingers drifted back around her hips, reaching low enough to dance at the edge of the dress and her thighs. Back up they came, across her fabric covered sides. And stopped just short of her breasts. As if he touched them, it would be a truly sexual act, and another line he crossed into whatever she wanted in this game. His eyes closed, and cupped the still youthful globes, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs through the glittering cloth.

“Mistress…” the word was breathed, and not meant to have been said aloud at all. The term still rolling around in his head, trying to find perspective.

His hands departed her chest, knowing that while women loved it, if you dwelled too long they think you forgot about the rest of them. Yeah, he knew women, or thought he did until tonight. Tonight was like finding out the sky was purple and water wasn’t wet.

Back to the shoulders, he pulled the straps of her dress to the side and pressed them down, pulling the garment down to her waist. The breasts he had just recently held popped out to great him, or mock him. Even in his touch, which he knew was having some effect, she stood there expecting where others would have melted into his arms.

That lump was back in this throat, and it felt like it brought friends. Squatting lower, his fingers ran up her legs, over the perfectly smooth thighs, and under the garment pooled around her midsection. Thumbs hooking onto it, he slowly pulled the dress up, and toward her head. He arms rose casually over her head, but in such a way as to seem it had nothing to do with him. Her dress was coming off, a fact, not that a man she wanted was pulling it from her.

Soon the dress lay on the floor behind her as he stood waiting for …something. Whatever was to come next, he’d done as he was instructed.

He really wanted a drink.

Every light caress of his touch made her skin tingle and her flesh grow warm, yet he seemed distracted, still not quite sure of how this game worked. He used her title, something no longer woven with contempt or arrogance, but with a hint of wonder. She smiled and ran her fingers across his jaw, down his neck and across his shoulders. “You did very well,” she told him, “but I believe in the future you’ll find out that your fingers can do so much more.”

She circled him, her gaze drinking in the contrast of his skin and the black leather harness. “You’ve earned a reward. You’ve not sullied my title and you have managed to bring a hint of lust from somewhere inside me. What do you want right now. . .something small, don’t ask for what you don’t believe you deserve. Perhaps a kiss? A sip of my juices? Maybe a quick flick of my tongue against your cock?”

Her hands moved down his back, along his hips and then wrapped around his waist. “Tell me boy, what do you wish to have a taste of?” Constance placed her lips on his back and licked gently up his spine. Her hands traveled down to his cock and she rubbed the leather sack. Her hard nipples rubbed his back and she pushed her pelvis against his ass. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she nipped his shoulder.

What did he want?! He wanted out of this mess, He wanted her! He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. Her strong voice was hypnotic, and so were her soft hands dancing over his skin.

And what did he deserve? A bottle of brandy as tall as he was, certainly, but he figured that might undo what little good graces he found. And he was worrying about that! The notion that he was concerned over what she might think of any of this galled him more then her condescending attitude. He wanted clarity. He wanted the world to be right again, and to understand this woman’s angle. There had to me more then what she mentioned. He had aroused her, and for that he was rewarded, even if his reward undid his work, he knew he earned it. He wanted answers.

“Mistress, I would like to know why. I’ll play along, and be your sex slave all week, I’ll follow orders and be led around on a leash; I just want to know why. I think I earned that, so that is my request. No one sets out to enslave a rival, even if they liked their body and nothing else. Next week you’ll still hate me, I’ll still own and toy with the Sun-Times. If you want to embarrass me, humiliate me, whatever, I’ll not stop you, I just want to know. This won’t drive me out of town, no matter how many pictures of me on your leash you publish, I’m more resilient then that, and I think you know it – which is why I can’t understand any of this. Why me for a week long slave?”

His voice came through strong, and sincere, and he tried to hide how thrilled with himself he was over that accomplishment. His cock was still hard and straining against the tiny pouch, after her hands had momentarily teased him.

He turned around to look her in the eye, “Why – it is the only thing I ask for. You obviously earned the rest already. Mistress.”

His light blue eyes locked onto her. He could not deny the excitement anymore, but his head would get in the way of trying to enjoy any of it. Even if she had plotted his downfall, if he knew, he could at least enjoy the ride.

Constance was surprised by his request; she shouldn’t have been, but she was nonetheless. She sat on the bed as he stood still, patiently waiting for her confession. Her gaze was steady as she spoke the truth as to why she’d done what she did. “I do enjoy looking at you. I have from the first moment I saw you. I even tried to catch your eye, but you were absorbed in the arms of some blonde tart.” She shrugged her shoulders, crossing her legs and allowing the stiletto’s he’d not removed to gently wave in the air.

“I called your office, asking to meet with you and was told that you had no time for me. To say I was shocked is an understatement, but then you began to behave like some spoiled child, further annoying me. Call it a bruise to my ego, but I was generally hurt. I don’t like to be ignored by anyone.”

She walked over to a mini bar tucked in the corner of the room and poured them both a glass of wine. She offered it to him and sipped at her own. “The charity auction was my way of finally gaining a real audience with you. A moment when you were forced to pay attention to me, to humor me with the adoration I had sought and you blatantly refused. Why does a woman want a man that doesn’t seem to want her? I can’t answer that question... I can simply say I wanted you. I wanted a moment to find out if you were capable of being something more than a playboy.”

She finished her wine and laid her glass on the table. “I don’t have any great words of adoration or love falling from my lips, just right now pure simple carnal lust, but this evening, even that has dimmed. You are not like the others, you’re very unique and that was why the secrecy.”

“The guest room upstairs will be yours for the night. I have no need of you this evening. Perhaps tomorrow morning will be different.” She walked to the door and stepped into the small hall, then turned back. “I don’t know all the reasons why I wanted you, but perhaps we’ll discover them together... but you should know not just anyone do I trust with the secrets of my passion. Where you may laugh at the possible scandal this scene would create in your life... I fear it. You have in your hands the power to destroy me, yet... I still brought you here.”

She left the dungeon and quietly took the stairs back up, leaving the door open for Randolph when he was ready to retire for the night. Straightening her back she refused to think about the plans she had for the night and how they had quickly diminished, because she’d underestimated her own appeal.

It might have felt better if she had grown claws and ripped his heart out of his chest. He could see the danger she faced in tell him this, and it made him feel guilty for asking. His mouth was open in stupid silence as she walked away.

Ages passed as he stood then, unmoving, alone. In a dungeon, a room for depraved acts belonging to a woman who had confessed and left him with the means to destroy her, but still managed to hold her expectations of tomorrow. He was free to go to the guest room, so sleep, to dress or at least get out of this ridiculous harness.

But it shocked him that he wanted none of that, and even had another pang of guilt piece him. Whatever he’s said, or done, or forced from her caused her to change plans. Earlier the guest room was not his, he wasn’t to be a guest. A toy, a means to an end, not a guest. Perhaps he had spoiled her revenge, and he could understand how that might hurt; but he hoped that her words were as honest as they sounded.

He ran after her, the retched harness cutting into him as he bounded up the stairs. It turned out he was not there alone debating with himself as long as it felt, for she had barely cleared the tops of the stairs and began her slow, practices step across the foyer; heels echoing in the empty house.

“Mistress!” He called a she reached the top, and darted over to her as he turned to see what he wanted of her now. He took a knee, almost sliding to her feet across the hardwood floor, that damnable pouch cutting into skin he really preferred not pinched.

“I’m sorry. Well, no, I’m not.” He shook his head to organize his words, as if the motion helped. “I’m glad you told me. Never, in two marriages, countless affairs, and whatever else I might not remember, has a woman exposed herself like that to me. To be so honest, so vulnerable.” He was practically speaking into her crotch talking about being exposed, and would have, at another time made a joke about such irony, but not now. “I’ve never been so pursued by a woman either, not for any honest reason. Crazy bitches after nothing more then money, sure, but not because of anything truly about me. Your methods and style are certainly outside of my normal range of experiences, but the core of it, that you sought me out, even after such a slight. I’m honored. Really.”

He knew what he was going to say next, and still couldn’t believe it, and eve as the words parted his lips, he was at a loss as to where such a notion came from, “You paid a lot, planned a good deal more, all for me. Please, don’t let it go to waste. You earned it, whatever it is that you want, it’s yours. I’ll do whatever you wish all week, as promised, and damn me for a fool but I may just enjoy it. Please…now that we’re honest and bare to each other, don’t turn back.” He knew he was forgetting something, something crucial that she might need to hear from him. Something vital. It clicked.

“Mistress, I will tell no one. I will keep your secret.” He looked up her body, and for the moment ignored it’s beauty; hoping that a woman determined enough to plot all this, could be forgiving enough to allow whatever came next to happen honestly.

Constance stared down at him, her face showing that she had indeed listened to his words. Inside she felt her stomach warm and do a flip, something she’d not felt her body do in a long time. The sight of Randolph willingly on his knees, looking up at her, asking her to not end the night the way she had suddenly felt like ending it, made her pulse quicken. Her fingers reached out and stroked his hair, then trailed down his jaw and across his lips. “I didn’t know how else to get you here,” she confessed and then hooked her finger into the loop of his collar and tugged gently.

“Follow me,” she whispered and turned to begin the trip up to her bedroom. The dungeon would be there in the morning, she wanted something a bit more relaxing for them both. She would still be his Mistress, but if she played rough with him tonight she feared his rejection and their potential wounds would not allow her to behave in a controlled manner.

She needed to set him at ease, just as she needed to set herself at ease too. He was willing before, but now his words carried and air of honesty, just as hers had.

They reached her bedroom, this one a large contrast to the room downstairs. She turned the dimmer switch, bringing more light to the room and stepped inside closing the door behind him. “The harness seems to cause you discomfort. It shouldn’t. It is designed to move with your body, cradle your sex, but this one was not made especially for you, like the collar was. So you can remove it.”

She moved to the bed and stood beside it waiting for him to disrobe. His cock was at half mast and she knew that with the knowledge he’d gained just moments before that he would be ready for her. “I need to feel wanted,” she told him. “Your Mistress feels doubtful of her appeal. You did this to me. You need to find a way to fix it.”

Red stilettos were all that covered her skin as she eyed him with a mixture of hunger and worry. She enjoyed her life as a Mistress. She loved the thrill of watching a man submit to her, but she was still a human being who needed to feel like she was attractive. She knew she was, but she wanted her partner to think it too.

He followed, thankful not to be sent to the guest room, which oddly would feel more like a prison then the rooms below could just now. He followed, eagerly at her hels, trying to remember something about what she said before, but he was on a leash…about not too close, but close enough. He did his best.

The bedroom shocked him in a way he felt guilt for. He imagined another chamber of doom, but this was classy elegance at its best, the women he thought was his rival designed this room. Apparently she had more layers then he could ever guess.

With her permission he began fighting buckles in an effort to slip free of the blasted thing. He’d probably just done something wrong when putting it on, but fixing that was not his focus right now.

He knelt down at her feet, looking up to take in the view he’d practically ignored moments before. “You’re a gorgeous woman, and I’m a lucky man to share any pleasures you allow this week. Thank you, Mistress.” A woman. She might like a title at the end, but she was still a woman, and he knew he could work with that. He found a respect for her that filled him with warmth. It honestly felt good to treat a classy lady well for a change, and not just buying her expensive things, but to look on her and compliment her out of truth and not habit. Certainly none of this could be called habit.

He hoped that by ‘fix it’ she meant to give him a wider choice in how then before with only his hands. Though his hands he used, by caressing her thin ankles and up her calve. He placed wet, tongue involved kiss on her skin, and massages her leg higher. Again, caressing and kissing until he was eye level with her cleanly shaven, bare-as-could-be sex. But he avoided that, and began a similar journey down the matching, wonderfully sculpted leg. Its definition brought out by the rather high heels she still wore. He could remember and look back on this, fondly, if nothing else happened between him. He had been humbled by a woman, which left him time to truly stop and enjoy what was before him, and right now, that was two of the most superb legs he’d ever seen, much less licked, kissed and massaged.

Completing his trek down her leg, he stopped, staring at the open toed sandal/heels. He felt kinda playful with this role all the sudden, and figured what the hell, in for a penny, in for pound. He placed a small, soft kiss on the tops of each of her feet, and looked up to see the reaction.

Constance kept her eyes glued to the man at her feet. His fingers skimmed across her legs as if he were worshiping every inch of flesh he touched. Inside she trembled and her pulse raced, her sex tingled and throbbed gently. She licked her lips, her fingers reaching down to tease through his hair. Her imagination had seen him on his knees many times, but now that he was actually there, she was almost giddy with excitement. When he kissed her toes, she blinked her surprise and then smiled warmly.

“Your like your place, boy?” she asked, as she reached down and cupped his chin. She tugged him up so he was back on his knees and his mouth just a few inches from her slick pussy. “You are well on your way to making me feel beautiful.”

She ran her fingers across his jaw and then down to caress his collar. “Did you know that though I am your Mistress, you have a lot of power? You can make me feel cherished, wanted, desired. Or you can reject me. . .”

“Look at my cunt,” the word fell from her lips with ease. “See the honey you’ve already drawn from me.” Her hand moved to her sex and she slipped a finger inside, then painted his lips. “You did that to me. . .but there is more, boy.”

She took her hand and buried it in his hair. Her body bent at the waist and she pressed her lips to his, letting her tongue wash away the pussy lipstick she’d spread over both petals of silk. “You have my permission to sup from the source,” she whispered and then rose up and patiently waited for him to take the next step.