The Personal Trainer (closed thread)

[dr_mabeuse]

He waited at a table in the back of the dimly-lit restaurant, a chilled martini before him, waiting for her. He was impeccably dressed: his charcoal gray suit fit him perfectly, his red necktie was the only splash of color in an otherwise tastefully subdued ensemble. The necktie had been selected to contrast with his dark complexion and the hints of gray in his dark hair and beard. A professor, perhaps, or a collecter of fine art: a man of impeccable taste and refined manner.

He was hardly the type that anyone would guess to be a personal trainer. He looked too urbane, too sophisticated to be associated with anything as coarse as a gymnasium or work-out spa, and while he was lean and well-built, with solid shoulders and strong hand, he lacked the athlete’s beef and easy boyishness. There was something intense and perhaps dangerous about him, a knowingness in his dark gaze. And yet that’s just what he had set himself up as: a personal trainer, but a trainer of amost particular sort. He was waiting now for his new client.

Of course, she wasn’t his client yet. He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to seven. He’d told her to meet him at seven, and he was reasonably certain she’d come. He knew her, though she didn’t know him. He knew her because he had heard of her from a string of friends and associates. He knew that she was unattached, a junior executive, hard-working and successful, but not as successful as she’d like. She’d been frustrated several times recetnly in her attempts to move up the corporate ladder, losing promotions to men not as qualified as she, and so she'd decided she needed to do something about it. Something radical to change her image. To that end she had placed an ad in the paper looking for a Personal Trainer: someone who would help her get into perfect shape, who would help focus her energies and sculpt her body into a formidable weapon suitable for the corporate wars, in which beauty and sex appeal were tools to be used like any other.

So far she’d been unsuccessful in her search. She was maried to her job and worked very long hours, and really she needed someone who would be available 24 hours a day. Such help didn’t come cheap, and while she earned a very comfortable income, she wasn't eager to pay what such a trainer would cost, so she had all but given up the search. That’s when word reached him about her needs, and he’d been intrigued.

A woman seeking to remake herself was just what he’d been looking for. True, his ideas of training her were not quite what she had in mind, but if she were truly looking to put herself into another’s hands, if she were looking to push herself, to break through the old limits of her rather mundane life, then he might be just the one she was looking for.

Everything he’d found out about her—and he had found out much, having connections everywhere--told him that she was just such a woman, so he’d phoned her, offering his services. She had rebuffed him at first, but he had been armed with considerable information. He already knew about her, and as he described her to herself, she grew quiet on the other end of the line as she listened to what he told her about herself.

“How do you know so much about me?” she’d asked him after a considered pause.

“I always check out my potential clients very thoroughly,” he’d said. “I don’t offer my services lightly, and I get results. Believe me, you won’t find another trainer like me anywhere. I know what you’re looking for even better than you do yourself.”

“I doubt that,” she’d said with a nervous laugh.

He wasn’t amused. “Then come and find out for yourself. I’ll be at the Villa Tuscany at seven o’clock tonight, and I’ll be waiting for you. You can interview me there, and I can interview you. We can see if we have a match. There are no strings, no obligations, and I’ll even buy you dinner.”

She’d thought about that. “I have to work late, and besides…”

“I would very much suggest that you think about it. It will cost you nothing, and it could very well change your life." He let the words sink in for a moment, then added, "Until tonight, then.” And he’d hung up the phone.

If she was the woman he thought she was, she would show up. If she was a woman who needed to make changes in her life, she would most certainly show up.

 

[Cherrie]

.The busy traffic had now ground to a standstill, as the yellow cab tried in vain to weave it’s way through the intersection. Some clown in a blue van, had compounded the problem, by attempting to cut his own path through the throng and was now completely blocking the road. An elderly woman, dressed in a cheap looking fur coat, was busily cajoling the offending driver with her umbrella.

“Looks like the snakes are out of the basket,” laughed the cabbie, as he lit the stub of a foul smelling cigar, hanging loosely from between his brown stained teeth.

His blonde haired passenger huddled on the back seat wondered what the hell he was talking about. The woman wasn’t really in any humor for small talk, particularly at the present. She was late for her appointment, and that wouldn’t do…that wouldn’t do at all!

“How much further?” She enquired briskly, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

“About two blocks,” came the surly reply. “If you want my advice Honey…it would be quicker to get out and walk.”

The woman cringed as she heard the words ‘Honey’. She wasn’t his honey…She wasn’t anyone’s honey. Least of all the likes of him! She had worked too long…too hard to get where she was today, to be anybodies ‘Honey’.

Darlton and Gracefield, although only a small firm, were on the up and up, and while she had only been with them for a few short years, the young businesswoman recognized the opportunity for advancement. An opportunity not to be missed… not this time! She had been overlooked too many times previously. This time it was going to be different and was determined to make the ‘Pricks’ sit up and take notice.

Wiping the condensation from the window with the back of her hand, she decided that the rain wasn’t quite so bad, and that perhaps she should heed the cabbies advice.

“Ok, how much do I owe you?”

“Call it ten bucks,” he drawled, without removing the cigar from between his wet lips.

‘I’d call it robbery’ she thought but was hardly in a position to argue. Fishing around in her purse, she removed a twenty, too proud to bother asking him for change. Handing him the note the woman stepped out onto the wet pavement, pulling the collar of her coat tightly around her neck, and walking briskly towards her rendezvous with fate.

As she turned the final corner, a dull red glow seemed to emanate from the furthest corner of the street. ‘The Villa Tuscany,’ lit up in bright red neon reflected it’s eerie glow from the wet pavement. The woman tutted as she glanced at her watch…already she was ten minutes late.

Her heart fluttered like a schoolgirl on a first date as she entered the dimly lit hallway. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why? After all it was just another meeting, and besides it would be her that was really conducting the meeting…She was the one that was going to do the employing. She would be the one calling the shots! He had seemed to be so confident on the phone though. ‘How did he know so much about me? How did he know what my needs are and what I really wanted?’ she thought to herself as she opened the stained glass door.

Quickly making her way towards the ladies room, hoping that he…whoever he was…wasn’t watching, for it was bad enough turning up late, without looking like a half drowned rat to boot, needed to smarten herself up. It wouldn’t do at all for a prospective employer to let her prospective staff see her looking so disheveled.

It took her about another five minutes to powder her nose, and run a brush through her hair. Noticing that her tights were soaked, and covered in muddy splash marks from the traffic. She removed the offending articles, and made good use of them to buff up the shine on her shoes. The wet patches around the hem of her pin stripe skirt were quickly dealt with by use of the hand drier that hung on the tiled wall. Surveying her reflection in the cracked mirror over the washbasin, and satisfied with the result, she folded her coat over her arm and made her way into the restaurant.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He knew her on sight, of course, but he had the courtesy to look away as she made her way to the Ladies’ room for some last minute adjustments to her makeup. Her pictures didn’t do her justice. They failed to capture her sense of self-possession; the confident way she carried herself even in spite of her recent ducking in the rain.

She emerged from the powder room looking less wet and more credible, but he knew she couldn’t be very happy about presenting herself this way. She worked in a business where first impressions were critical, and he’d caught her at a disadvantage in that regard. He nodded to her now as she stood surveying the room, and as she saw him and walked over, his discerning eye made out that she was not quite as self-assured as she wanted to appear. There was a bit of unertainty in her eyes.

Still, she was a beautiful woman with short blond hair and eyes so blue he could see their color half-way across the room, and his smile as he rose to greet her was geniune. She was all he had hoped for and more.

“Ms. Hargate?” he asked, rising from his chair, “I’m Elliot Trier. So glad you could make it.”

She smiled back, made some quick apologies for being late, and seemed ready to run through this meeting as quickly as she could, as if it were no more than a mild annoyance. She seemed genuinely surprised then when he moved behind her and held her chair for her, a rather archaic yet charming gesture that caught her off guard. As he did so he caught a whiff of her perfume, subtle and complex, and he immediately approved.

He ordered them wine, and he watched her carefully during the ensuing small talk. He knew he was seeing her professional persona, the face she showed to clients and business associates, but that didn’t bother him. That was who he’d be working with, as least at the start, until she became comfortable enough with him to show him who she really was, and the person he showed her was just as professional: competent, courteous, well-spoken. If he couldn’t keep a certain predatory gleam out of his eye, he at least hoped that she would take that for profesional dedication, rather than that of something more sexual in nature.

“As for me,” he told her, “I imagine you expected something rather different. But I come to this business by a different route than most trainers. I made quite a bit of money in software during the boom, and took an early retirement. I grew bored, though, and soon found that I had a gift for helping others realize their true potential; a quite remarkable gift, if I do say so myself. Now that’s all I do. I’m very selective in my clients, and I only work with one person at a time, so I can devote my entire attention to that person.”

“Then that’s how you knew so much about me?” she asked.

“Yes. I thoroughly research my prospective clients. I’ll only take people I know I can help.”

“So you;ve been talking to my friends?”

“A few mutual acquaintances. I have other channels of information.”
For most people, the favorite topic of conversation is themselves, and she wasn;t immune. She smiled now, a slightly seductive smile, though not intentionally so, he was sure.

“Let me tell you about yourself,” he said, leaning towards her. “Give me your hand.”

She looked at him for a moment, gauging whether he was serious, then extended her right hand to him. He took it and turned it palm up. His hands were warm and surprisingly hard for one dressed so well.

“You’re a very competent and accomplished woman,” he said, “And you were obviously unfairly bypassed for promotion. Your problem is, of course, that you’re a woman, and the usual glass ceiling applies. Men you work with don’t know how to relate to you: whether as a woman or as a co-worker, and so you make them uneasy.”

He opened her hand and ran his thumb over her palm, giving her an unexpected physical thrill. There was something dangerous about this man, and his touch was intentionally sensuous, intended to arouse.

“You were right to come to me,” he said. “We need to remake you, remake your image. You’re acting a part right now at work, and it doesn’t suit you. We have to give you back to yourself, and let the real you out.

“But before we do that,” he said, releasing her hand, “we have to be sure that this is what you want, because as I say, I get results, and we’re talking about changing your very idea of yourself, of finding out who you really are. Are you ready for that? This is more than just exercise and diet. Anyone can provide you with that. What I specialize is getting inside, digging deep. There might be surprises in there, things not even you suspect.”

She laughed nervously, but secretly she was pleased with the idea that she had untapped potential, talents not even she was aware of. It was just what she was hoping to hear.

“Yes,” she said. “I need to change. I don’t want to go on like this. I feel like life is passing me by.”

He looked her in the eyes. “You’re not seeing anyone now, are you? I thought not. That’s good and hat’s bad. It’s good because I can’t have anyone come between what we’re going to do together, so I'm afraid I'll have to insist on a curtailed social life for the duration. It’s bad because you are a very sexual woman, and it’s a part of yourself you’ve been neglecting. We have to change that. All your strength, all your personal power, comes from your sexuality. It’s like that for most people, but for you it’s especially true for you. I can feel it.”

He watched her eyes closely as he said this, and caught the her very subtle yet unmistakable reaction at the mention of sex. It was just the reaction he'd wanted, part shock, part interest. Her facade was not as good as she thought.

He reached into his pocket and handed over a business card.

“This is a gym I own. I want you to be there tomorrow at seven o’clock, ready to start your work outs. And now I suggest we order some dinner. You’d might as well splurge; it might be your last chance for some time.”

 

[Cherrie]

Susan slept fitfully that night. Losing count of the numerous times she had adjusted and beaten at her pillow, trying to submit to the darkness, and the blessed surrender of sleep. The bedside clock still showing that it was still the early hours of the morning. Her thoughts raced, making her feel giddy as she replayed over and over in her mind the events of that evening. “Was it the wine…or perhaps these dark ominous eyes of his?” she thought, as she sat up and switched on the lamp. No... She was sure it wasn’t the wine.

Reaching across the bed, she fumbled about for her purse and retrieved the small buff colored business card he had given her, and held it up towards the light.

“Elliot Trier…Elliot Trier,” she repeated to herself, as though saying his name out loudly would invoke the man in person to suddenly appear, like a gene popping out of a bottle. “Such a strange name. He didn’t look anything like…well like an Elliot. And he certainly didn’t look like a trainer…more like an antique dealer…or professor of some sort. Whatever his profession,” she thought, “He was certainly polished, and well spoken…the perfect gentleman. The sort of person one could take home to meet one’s parents…. What the hell am I thinking?” she suddenly blurted out loudly. “Pull yourself together girl, your behaving like a young coed, about to kiss the star football player.”

Susan laughed uncertainly at her own joke, as she climbed out of bed and switched on the kettle, but she knew deep down that whatever his…or her motive may be, seven o’clock would not arrive soon enough.

“God you look awful,” remarked Jackie, as Susan entered her office a few hours later. “Heavy night?”

Susan ignored the remark and sat at her desk. “Any calls Jackie?”

“One from Swathem Elastics, and three from your mother,” responded her secretary.

“Oh bugger, I’d forgotten all about Swathems. Call them back and arrange a meeting for next,” Susan picked up the red desktop diary, “for next Wednesday.”

“Roger Wilco!” Jackie replied through the half closed office door.

Susan cringed at Jackie’s off the cuff reply. Yet another sarcastic dig at her British origins.

Neither Swathems, nor her mother either, was at the top of her agenda for today.
All she could concentrate on now was…Elliot…Elliot bloody Trier. Something had happened last night. Something that she was ill prepared for, something sinister…something…well magical. She wondered if he had felt the electricity too. “But then again why should he have? It was only dinner,” she reasoned.
“Then again…something about those eyes.”

Six o’clock found Susan in a panic! “What the hell does one wear these days to attend a…what had he called it…oh yes…a work out?”

Flipping through the magazines, that littered the under shelf of her coffee table, were no help either. No help that is, unless she had a twenty-year-old body to die for, and who’s legs disappeared up into their neck somewhere, and couldn’t care less about the tiny bit of string that threatened to cut their crotches in half sort of girl. But she wasn’t. She was thirty-five! “Besides,” she thought, “I don’t want to come across as too available…too eager.”

Deciding on a white pair of Tennis shorts and cut off tank top, she pushed them into her sports bag, together with her tracksuit. It was then that the panic had set in. It was whilst trying to retrieving her trainers from the dark confines of the wardrobe, that she remembered, she had thrown them out last year after Mrs. Gibbons dog had chewed them. “God I hate that dog,” she mumbled to herself.

Deciding that perhaps she still had time to stop off at the local sports emporium on the way, she picked up the phone and dialed for a taxi.

“That’s right… Susan Hargate…1531 West Side apartments…fifteen minutes…that would be splendid,” she spoke to the controller. Then as an afterthought added, “Could you make sure that this one has change for a twenty!”

Susan wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she heard the words ‘stuck up English bitch’ muttered down the earpiece as she replaced the receiver onto its cradle.

After hurriedly rushing into the sports shop on the way to the gym, Susan clutched her new trainers, and white leotard, that the shop assistant had insisted she buy into the bottom of her bag, and instructed the cabbie to drive on. She had the uneasy feeling, deep down in her belly, that this was one appointment she had better keep on time…

 

[dr_mabeuse]

The gym was in a large upstairs loft in an industrial area, unmarked in any way. Elliot was apparently expecting her: he met her at the door with a nod of greeting, let her in, and as she climbed the stairs she heard the lock click behind her with a finality that gave her a breif flutter in her stomach. From what she’d seen of the rest of the building, they were the only two people here

He was wearing new sweat pants and athletic shoes, and a tank top that showed the broad hardness of his chest and left his arms bare. He wasn’t overdeveloped, but there was no doubt about the masses of muscle in his arms and shoulders. If he wanted to use his strength against her, there would be nothing she could do.

Neither of them said much. Susan waited for him to take the lead, but he only walked her briskly to the back of the loft where there was a living area: kitchen, bedrooms, and a large bath.

“You can change here,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

“You know we haven’t talked price yet. Don’t you think we should get that out of the way.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’m not in this for the money, Susan. You’ll pay me what you think I’m worth once you’re convinced that I’m worth it.”

The nusinesswoman in her wanted to haggle, but he led her into that back, into a surprisingly spacious and well-appointed kitchen. “Do you live here?” she asked him.

“Not regularly. I have a place downtown. This is where I do most of my training though.”

As he said this he led her past the open door of a bedroom where she saw a big bed with a wrought iron head and footboard, and a large mirror set against one wall. She only caught a glimpse, but it seemed to her that there were chains attached to the head and foot of the bed. She bit her lip but said nothing. Again she got that feeling in her stomach.

He let her change in peace though, and immediately set her to work: no warm-up, no polite socializing or ice-breaking. He put her on the exercise bike and had her work herself into a sweat, then onto the weight machines where he had her work her arms and legs, finding out what weights would be appropriate. He aimed at weights that would allow her to do three sets of twenty each: curls, pull-downs, flies, bench-press, then on to her lower body, stomach, legs and buttocks. After an hour of this, Susan was perspiring freely and ready for a break.

“You’re a hell of a task-master,” she said, drinking gratefully from the bottle of mineral water he gave her. “How often do you expect me to do all this?”

“Five days a week,” he said. Her jaw fell in surprise and she saw him smile for the first time. He smiled, but he wasn’t kidding.

“Five days a week?” she asked. “I won’t be able to walk! I’m already sore.”

“Don’t worry about being sore. I’ll take care of that.”

There was a full length mirror against one wall of the huge work-out space, and he pulled her over to it now. He stood her in front of it and moved away, looking at her critically.

“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with,” he said. “Nice tits. We want to keep them that way, so we have to tighten up your chest. You’ve got some weight on your hips and stomach. That has to go. Nice behind. It’ll be even nicer once we firm it up on the stairmaster. You’ve got good legs, but they’re kind of flaccid now. I want to harden them up, do a little sculpting.”

Susan felt herself start to blush as he ran down what was good and bad about her body, then she felt herself grow angry, her anger still suffused with some embarrassment. She agreed with everything he said, but still, it wasn’t pleasant to be judged like that, especially not by a stranger.

He seemed to sense her outrage, and he smiled again and came up behind her. “But all that is window dressing,” he said

He put his hands on the sides of her head and made her look at herself in the mirror. She could see his face over her shoulder, see his eyes as they swept up and down her body. There was no mistaking the dark gleam in his gaze. Men had looked at her like that before, but never in this context, never when she’d been filmed with perspiration, muscles aching.

“This is what we’ve really got to start working on,” he said, tapping the side of her head. “This is where all the work gets done. When you look at yourself, what do you see?”

Susan thought of several things to say, but none of them came out. She was too aware of him standing there touching her, too aware of her body on display.

Before she could think of anything, he answered for her. “She’s not a bad looking woman, not by any stretch of the imagination. Quite beautiful, really. But she’s a little scared. She’s scared to use what she’s got, and she’s unsure of herself. She would never admit it, but she is. She can be easily intimidated, because she doesn’t know the secret yet. Not yet she doesn’t.”

“What secret is that?” she asked, ignoring her own feelings of outrage.

She saw his wicked smile in the mirror. “We’ll get to that later,” he said. “You’re not quite ready for that yet.”

He slid his hand up to the back of her neck and squeezed, massaging the muscles. His hand was warm and strong and she was somewhat sore from the exercise, as well as a little keyed up. He slid his hands down to the masses of muscle on either side of her neck and began to massage them. It felt incredibly good and she let her head fall back with a groan.

“Come on,” he said. “This isn’t all torture. After a workout like that you get a rubdown.”

He led her to another one of the bedrooms in back—not the one with the bed--which turned out not to be a bedroom at all, but a kind of trainer’s room with a big massage table and a doctor’s scale. A metal cabinet held towels and supplies. He indicated for her to get up on the table, and by now she was so used to following his orders that she complied without thinking twice.

He made her lie on her stomach, and then he went to work on her.

He started with her back, up near her neck, massaging and kneading with his strong hands. Despite the workout he found knots of tension in her muscles, and he worked on them firmly but patiently until one by one they dissolved away. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been—how tense she always was these days—until he massaged the tension away, leaving her glowing with langorous pleasure. Then he moved down her back, pulling her tank top up to get at the naked skin of here lower back. She let him. He put some sort of liniment or lotion on his hands, and worked it into her skin, all the while drawing out the tension, leaving her feeling wonderfully relaxed.

He moved to the foot of the table and lifted her lower leg, put her foot against his shoulder and massaged her calf, then up to her foot. She was afraid he’d tickle her, but his touch was so sure and so firm that laughing was the last thing she felt like doing. He worked over the sole of her foot with his thumbs, sending little shocks of pleasure up her legs, finding areas of exquisite sensitivity she hadn’t even known existed. When he finished one foot he went to the other, starting with the calf and again working his way up to her foot.

Susan fell into a kind of sensual trance. She’d never been worked over like this, each square inch of her body explored and stimulated, not with hands like his. It became apparent to her that his touch was more than therapeutic. She could tell from the way he touched her that he was deriving great sensual pleasure from the feel of her flesh sliding under his hands, and it occurred to her that his touch was more than a little sexual. She thought that perhaps she should be alarmed, but the truth was she was too relaxed, and what he was doing felt too good.

When he began to rub the big muscles of her thighs, Susan couldn’t keep from groaning with pleasure, and when he took her buttocks in his hands and began to manipulate them, she felt the wetness between her legs.

 

[Cherrie]

It had been a long time since she’d allowed any man to touch her like this. Too get this close to cracking her fine veneer. Small tingles of electricity flowed through her body, as his strong hands manipulated her begging flesh. Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood now coursing through her veins like an express train. She knew then that she wanted him no…needed him. Needed him to make her feel like a woman again.

She let out a small gasp as his thumbs momentarily brushed against her most intimate parts. Had it been by accident she thought, hoping that it hadn’t. No… she was sure he was too skillful for that.

Elliot smiled as he felt her suddenly tense, he knew that the time would be soon. Already he could hear the faint cat like purring emanating from deep within her throat. He could smell her arousal, like a bitch on heat. Yes he thought…the time would be soon.

Walking around to the side of the table, he leant over and whispered gently into her ear. “Roll over Susan.”

She didn’t hear him at first. Her mind had drifted off to a completely different plane. For one brief minute, nothing had existed but his strong caressing hands. It’s as though he, and he alone held the key to unlocking her true feelings. The feelings, that she had denied herself all these years.

“Roll on your back Susan,” he repeated softly, “we’re only half finished.”

She suddenly awoke from her fantasy, coming back to reality with a start. Rolling onto her back she apologized guiltily.

“Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Anywhere nice?” he joked, that face of his breaking into a huge boyish grin.

Susan noticed for the first time, how white his teeth were. She had always had a thing about teeth.

“Oh nowhere you’d be interested in I’m sure.”

His face cracked another smile as he noticed how erect and hard her nipples had become, pressing hard against the flimsy cotton tank top. Resembling two soldiers standing proudly to attention.

“Are you cold Susan?” he teased.

“No,” she replied puzzled, and then blushing as she suddenly realized what he was referring too.

For the first time since they had met, they laughed. The sexual tension that had been building up in that little room suddenly flew out of the window. Susan felt a little disappointed, but upon reflection she knew it was probably for the best.

“After all,” she thought, “What could he possibly see in me?”

Then she remembered the bed she wasn’t supposed to see in the other room. Well she assumed she wasn’t supposed to have seen it, the speed in which he had ushered her past the open doorway bore witness to that. She was almost certain that she had seen chains hanging from the headboard.

‘Oh you naughty man’ she thought wickedly, “Whatever are you into?”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He did her arms, starting at her shoulder and working down: her biceps and triceps, both muscles already sore from the lifting. He did her hands, each one in turn, his thumbs working over her palms, then each joint of her fingers, finally making a fist around each finger and sliding his hand back and forth. It was such an patently obscene gesture—a perfect pantomime of sex-- that Susan almost laughed out loud and would have had her breath not caught in her throat at his boldness. She cracked her eyes and looked at him and saw the smile on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. She was being seduced.

He made her rest her hand on his shoulder so he could do her forearms. She could feel the muscles bunch in his shoulder and chest as he worked on her, and there wasn’t a sound in the room except for their rather heavy breathing and the very sexual sound of his hands sliding in the oil that coated her skin. He finished her arms and went right to her thighs with no excuse, spreading his strong hands over the big muscles and digging in. By now his massage was so overtly sexual that when his fingers grazed the skin on either side of her sex she couldn’t repress a shamelessly eager little moan. But still he didn’t touch her there. He didn’t give her the satisfaction she wanted.

He came and stood at the head of the table and began to gently massage her face: her scalp, her cheeks, her forehead, even the sides of her nose. He slid his fingertips over her lips which parted expectantly. The way he touched her mouth, tracing his fingertips over her lips, was one of the most sexual things she had ever felt in her life. Surely that wasn;t part of any massage she'd ever heard of.

Without warning he reached down and brazenly put his hands on her breasts. Susan’s eyes shot open in shock. He slid his hands down over her breasts, over her ribs, her waist, her hips. He almost straddled her head, leaning far over her to run his hands down the insides of her thighs, slick with massage oil, then slowly, slowly he raked his fingertips back up the sensitive flesh on the insides of her legs, caressing her body with hunger in his touch.

She could look up and see his erection tenting the heavy material of his sweat pants right over her face, blocking out the light. She could smell his male sexual musk. She could have stuck out her tongue and touched him, and she felt his raw sexual virility radiating from his cock like heat from a hot iron upon her face, but still he did nothing.

He stood up and moved away, and like that the spell was broken.

Susan lay there trying to control her breathing. Was it over? Was that it? She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her, touching her, possessing her. He had touched her breasts, had come within millimeters of touching her pussy. Was that it?

He had gone to the metal locker and was putting away the liniment, drying his hands on a towel. He made no attempt to hide the huge bulge in his pants. She looked at him and licked her lips, which had gone dry some moments ago.

“Give me your address,” he said. “I’ll be over at six tomorrow morning and we’ll take a nice little jog. Tomorrow we start your diet. I’ll bring you your food. You’ll be back here tomorrow night at six.”

She looked at him, trying to figure out his game.

“I don’t know if I can get away that early. Work, you know.”

“You work too much,” he said, closing the cabinet. “You work more than you have to. You think you’re making a good impression, but really there’s no reason that you have to stay after the others have gone home. You’re better than they are and you can finish your work faster than that. You think it makes you look dedicated but it just makes you look like an incompetent drudge.”

He came over and lifted her up so that she was sitting. Her skin still glowed from his touch. He gave her a set of keys on a ring.

“I have to get going. You can shower here if you want, there’s fresh soap and towels in the bathroom. Just lock the front door as you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. At six.”

With that he walked out. She sat there in something close to shock as she heard him get his coat and trot down the stairs.

She heard the front door slam shut and he was gone.

 

[Cherrie]

She sat there motionless for several minutes, still feeling the touch of his fingers upon her skin. Stroking herself gently, trying to recapture just some of the sensuous feelings that he had aroused in her. Her head filling with wondrous thoughts, thoughts that would have made a whore blush, thoughts, which had lain dormant for so many years, and now had been awoken. She now knew what the cabbie had meant when he had casually remarked ‘The Snakes were out of their basket.’ Elliot had opened the door, allowing her to step inside. She knew that her life was about to change…forever!

As the gradual awareness of what she had denied herself all these years dawned on her, she had a sudden feeling of loneliness sitting there in the now empty room.

“Pull yourself together girl,” she scolded herself, “He’s only a man for God’s sake!” But something kept nagging at her, that this man was different.

As if still in a cloudy dream, Susan tore herself away from the room and showered. Turning on the tap, she gave a sharp little gasp, as the cold spray hit her naked skin. Her already swollen nipples: still aching from his administrations, threatened to rupture as they became engorged with even more blood. Susan aware that her sexual arousal had not abated, allowed her fingers to trace their way up her body towards her firm breasts. She made small circular movements around her areola, and then gently tweaked at each bright pink bud in turn. She was on fire, a fire that needed quenching. Parting her legs, as much as the small shower cubicle would allow, she lowered her hands slowly across her belly, and placed them tightly against her vulva, one on top of the other, threatening to crush her aching clitoris. Her body arched at her own touch, whilst she held them there for several moments, not daring to move. She was way too sensitive.

“Oh Christ Elliot…What have you done to me?” she cried in mock despair.

It had been such a long time since she had pleasured herself, or anyone else had for that matter, now she masturbated herself with gay abandon. Her nimble fingers delving… stroking… parting aching lips, and then probing. Until at last, came the merciful release… her legs shuddering, trembling beneath her, causing her to lose balance. Her breath coming in short gasps, between clenched teeth, as she felt herself bite down hard on her lower lip, in order to stop herself from crying out… from crying out his name.

She was unsure as to how long she had been standing there. All time had ceased to exist. She shivered, as the cold water brought her back to the real world…back to her world. Her body gave out one final twitch, as she removed her hands, which were still clamped tightly to her genitals. Her self-gratifications had temporarily satisfied her sexual tension, but now she felt a new feeling…was it shame? Shrugging it off she switched off the tap, and picked up the pale blue towel that he had left out for her. Her clothes, which she had hurriedly stripped off, lay in a messy bundle on the bathroom floor. Drying herself off, she wondered out onto the landing, clutching the sweaty bundle of clothes under her arm.

Walking over to the living area of the loft, Susan picked up her bag, which she had dumped onto the Chesterfield, and removed her tracksuit, before stuffing in the remainder of her clothes. Then realizing that she had also packed her panties emptied the contents out again onto the floor. Bending down, she retrieved the small white garment, and immediately grimaced… they were still damp. She hurriedly re-stuffed the bag and slid the panties into the side pocket, zipping it up quickly, less someone should witness her shame. Deciding that time was of the essence, already it was quite dark outside, and this didn’t look like the kind of neighborhood to be wandering around in after dark, pulled on her tracksuit.

Sitting on the edge of the Chesterfield whilst fastening the laces of her trainers, she mulled over the events of this evening. It had been a hard workout, much harder than she had imagined it would have been for a first time. Still the ending had been fun…the massage part.

“What was the expression he had used?” she muttered, “Ah yes, ‘Incompetent Drudge’ that was it.”

She sat quietly, letting the words sink in. Now she was even more determined to show them. The training, no matter how hard, or how long, would be completed. She’d soon show them that she could hold her own amongst the best of them.

“Incompetent Drudge indeed.”

There was just one thing that she knew she had to do before vacating the building. She had to have a good look around that bedroom. Feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, she approached the half closed door, and slowly pushed it open, before cautiously entering. Her heart skipped a beat, as a floorboard let out a squeak of protest as she put her foot upon it. It was quite a decent sized room, but her eyes were drawn towards its centre, which was dominated by a huge King sized bed. She walked over, letting her fingers drag along the wrought iron footboard. The metal felt cold and alien to the touch, and as she approached closer, her stomach gave a quick jolt. She had been right…fastened to the four corners of the head and footboard, were a series of chains. There was no mistaking their purpose.

“Oh Elliot…you really are a wicked man!”

Susan gingerly stroked the back of her hand along the length of one of the chains, hardly daring to touch it, less it should suddenly spring into life and hold her captive forever. She felt her pulse racing, as the butterflies fluttered uncontrollably deep within her belly. Tentatively, she sat down on the edge of the huge bed, surprised by it’s softness, a complete contrast to the hardness of the metal that adorned it. The quilt and matching pillowcases were made of pure silk…extremely soft and cool to the touch.

Finding it almost impossible to resist, Susan found herself lying full length along the bed. Her arms held out gripping the chains, and imagining what it must be like to be completely helpless…to be chained like chattel…ready and eager to do her masters bidding. She gazed at the ceiling, surprised at its ordinariness. ‘A bed like this deserves a mirror,’ she thought.

Turning on her front, she buried her head deep within the soft pillow, and became aware of a new sensation. She could smell him! Faint, but unmistakably him. The musky aroma she had sampled earlier, invaded her nostrils, as she dug her face deeper, trying to drink every drop of him…to savour the pheromones. She flushed slightly, aware that she was getting herself aroused once more.

Quickly, and with a feeling that she had just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she jumped off the bed, and carefully straightened the bed covers. The full-length mirror that adorned the wall at the side of the bed bore witness to the flush that had appeared in her cheeks. Checking around, to make certain that the room was how she had found it, she left the room…unaware of the slight click from behind the mirror, as the video camera switched itself off.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He was as good as his word, and at exactly six A.M. he rang her bell; by 6:15 she was standing in the middle of the park, hands on her knees, a vicious stitch in her side, her legs starting to cramp.

“Put your hands on your head and walk around,” he told her. “Don’t just stand there. You’ll stiffen up. Come on, let’s walk back.”

They walked back through the early spring morning. It was too raw out to be called pleasant--their breath was clearly visible in the cold air--but there was something nice about being up early in the empty park, already wide awake while most of the city was still in bed. They walked along and talked, and Susan was pleased to find that he was more open with her. Last night he had barely spoken at all, but now they chatted easily as they walked back to her place. He seemed especially interested in her social life—of which there was not much to tell—and what she did at work, office politics, the kinds of little things she rarely got to discuss with anyone else. He was a good listener and she found to her mild embarrassment that she had a lot to say. It had been a very long time since she had anyone take this kind of interest in her.

He went upstairs with her and opened the bag he’d brought: fruit, yogurt, pretty much what she would have chosen for breakfast if she ever had any time to shop. Then he hustled her into her shower and waited for her in the living room.

She dressed and came out of the bedroom, putting in her earrings. She felt wide awake and fresh from the early morning exercise, and she noticed with pleasure that she still had plenty of time. She saw him looking at her critically.

“What?” she asked, looking down at her skirt. “Is something wrong?”

“Are those panty-hose?” he asked.

“Yes they are. Why?”

“Get rid of them,” he said. “You can wear them today, but then get rid of them. You should wear stockings. In fact, let’s have a look at your underwear drawer.”

She looked at him in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her into her bedroom, and without so much as asking, opened the top drawer of her dresser and started going through her under things.

“Now see here, Elliot…”

“This won’t do, Susan,” he said. “We’ve got to get you all new underclothes. Look at this stuff…” He pulled out a big handful of her things, bras and knickers, most of them white and of the kind her mother would have called ‘sensible’. She stood there with her mouth open, too shocked to object.

“During lunch today you’ll go out to a lingerie shop and buy all new things. I’ll write down the name and address for you. They have very nice things. I’ve already packed your lunch for today. You can eat it at your desk; that’ll give you time.”

She laughed incredulously. “I don’t think so. I’m quite happy with my things. They’re comfortable and I’m used to them. Besides, I’m not going to dress like that under my clothes. Not for work.”

“Dress like what?” He asked, looking at her and smiling. “You already know what I mean, don’t you? You know the kind of things I want you to buy. You know that I’m right too, don’t you?”

He took a small booklet from his pocket and scribbled down a name and address, tore the page out and handed it to her.

“Your power, my dear, comes from your sexuality.” he said. “You already know that, but you’re afraid to do anything about it. I’m not saying you have to dress cheap or revealing, let alone slutty, for God’s sake. But you should dress so that you’re aware at all times that you’re a woman: beautiful, desirable, and very sexual. If you’re aware of it, then others will be aware of it: men and women. They both respond. Everyone responds to sexual magnetism, even if they don’t know what it is.”

She stood staring at the address. It wasn’t far from work. She could certainly take a full lunch hour for a change instead of eating at her desk as she worked. Everyone else did.

“You have money?” he asked, and she realized with horror that he was reaching for his wallet.

“Of course I have money!” she exclaimed.

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m entirely willing to pay for it. You deserve it, Susan. And you need it. Believe me. Bring everything with you when you come tonight. I’ll have to check you out.”

“Check me out?”

He looked at his watch and went to the door. “Of course. I’m your personal trainer. I have to check all this stuff out. See you tonight then, and don’t be late.”

 

[Cherrie]

Susan was radiant as she sat behind her desk at Darlton & Gracefields. This particular morning her whole being seemed to buzz with a new found vitality. So much so, that as the morning wore on, several of her contempories couldn’t help but remark upon it.

“What’s Lady Muck smiling about in there?” quizzed Armstrong, as he leant across Jackie’s desk in the outer office. “Gone and got herself laid at last?”

“What! Old Miss icy drawers…doubt it. She’s been like that all morning…sort of all serine and in a world of her own.”

“Maybe she’s found religion…you know, born again Christian sort of thing,” he joked.

“God…do you think so? Maybe we could talk her into becoming a Nun,” replied Jackie, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Might as well…she does seem to have all the right virtues.”

“Meaning?”

“Well Chastity for a start. You know how she feels about men. Shame really…she’s not such a bad looker.”

“Christ Armstrong! You don’t fancy her…you do don’t you…you fancy the stuck up cow? Well… Jack Armstrong. You really have surprised me!”

“You know me Jackie,” he smiled. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Susan was blissfully unaware of the sarcastic comments exchanged between her secretary and colleague in the outer office. Had she been, she wouldn’t have cared less. She was feeling wonderful…no…dynamic! It was as if her whole body had been charged with electricity, reaching her very soul.

Armstrong watched her through the glass partition. He had never really noticed her before…not in the way he noticed her now. Something about her was different, something he had failed to see before. She somehow looked…well more desirable. He tapped on the door as he pushed it open.

“Good morning Susan,” he announced, handing across a large manila envelope, “Here’s the Gallagher report you asked for.”

“Why thank you Jack,” she beamed. “Good of you to take the trouble.”

“Oh no trouble,” he smiled, adding, “Susan is there something you would like to discuss, something that you’d… well… like to get off your chest sort of thing?”

Susan looked up from her computer, and stared at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ I asked if there was anything you wish to tell me,” replied her colleague.

Susan could feel the anger building up deep within herself. ‘How dare this…this measly mouthed pip squeak…even dare think that she would turn to him as a father confessor figure.’

Then Elliot’s words rang in her ear. ‘Your power comes from your sexuality’ and a strange calm suddenly descended upon her. She looked Armstrong straight in the eyes, and held his gaze, and then with all the serenity that she could muster, smiled calmly before replying… “Go Fuck yourself Jack!”

Armstrong’s face was a picture. His expression suddenly changed from the ‘Cock sure’ image that he liked to portray, to that of an eleven year old that had just gotten a severe scolding from the headmistress. He turned on his heels, slamming the door on his way out, hardly daring to believe what she had just said. For that matter, Susan could hardly believe it either…but the feeling it had given her was victorious.

“It looks like Elliot’s lessons may have some merit after all,” she giggled, returning to her work.

Pressing the button on the gray intercom, Susan announced to her secretary that she was going out to lunch.

“In fact I’ll probably be taking the rest of the afternoon off,” she added, feeling flush at her victory over Armstrong.

“Very well Miss Hargate,” replied Jackie, not daring to come out with any smart Alec comments…not after seeing the expression on Jack’s face as he stormed passed.

Susan felt elated as she walked along the street. A feeling she had not experienced for a very, very long time. For the first time in years…she felt whole again…felt like a woman should…felt…well in control of her own destiny. Pulling the scrap of paper, that Elliot had given her from her coat pocket, she glanced up at the sign outside the little shop. ‘Denzil Couture’.

Peering through the window, Susan failed to see anything unusual in the shops interior. For all intent and purposes, it looked quite ordinary, and nothing like she had imagined. She glanced at the scribbled note again, in order to confirm that she was at the right location, and then entered its portals.

The shop looked deserted; save for a mannequin, who stood motionless, it’s dead eyes staring out into space at the side of a long wooden counter.

“Hello,” she cried, which seemed superfluous, particularly after the bell hanging behind the door had made her nearly jump out of her skin. “Is anyone there?”

Several minutes passed, before an elderly looking man appeared from behind a huge velvet curtain that hung from the back wall of the little shop. Susan tried desperately to suppress a giggle, as he minced towards her. His way over the top bouffant hairstyle and blue rinse, announcing to the world, ‘I’m a queen, and proud of it’ arriving several seconds before he did.

“Can I help Madam?” he lisped, threatening to make her lose all self-control, and roll about the shop floor in hysterics.

Susan fought hard to retain her composure. “A friend of mine recommended you,” she replied. “Thought you may be able to help.”

The man looked at her disdainfully, as though she had just crawled out from beneath a stone.

“This …this friend of yours…does she have a name?”

“It’s a he actually,” she corrected, “A Mr. Trier.”

“Trier…Trier can’t say the name rings a bell. Then again…we get all sorts in here.”

“He’s my Personal trainer,” she added, trying frantically not to stare at his hair.

“Mmmm,” the queen replied, “And what may I ask is he training you for?”

This caught her by surprise. The old ‘blue rinse’ was right, what was he training her for? It certainly wasn’t just fitness.

“To be a better person…to be more of a woman I suppose,” she suddenly blurted out, regretting that she had, had to admit it, particularly to a Quentin Crisp look-a-like.

“Ahh… you’re talking about Elliot!” he replied, his whole demeanor suddenly changing. “ Why for goodness sake didn’t you say so?”

Susan giggled. A few seconds ago, she was ready to throw in the towel. Now the mood had unexpectedly changed, just at the mention of his name. The whole atmosphere in the pokey little shop, took on a ‘Mardi Gras’ theme, as the old queen clapped his effeminate hands together with glee. Before she had time to draw breath, she was quickly ushered behind the velvet drape and led down a steep flight of stairs.

“ This is reserved for special customers,” lisped ‘Quentin’ throwing on the light switch. “But I must warn you…it’ll be expensive.”

It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust to the harsh white neon that unexpectedly illuminated the room, a stark contrast to the dimly lit shop upstairs. The sharp pain that, nagged away at her retinas soon abated, leaving her to gaze in awe at the collection of garments that lay before her. The room was tiny, made smaller by the many rows of clothes, which seemed to hang from every square inch of the four walls.

“Quite a selection don’t you think?” cooed the queen, “I’m sure that you’ll find what your looking for.”

The only trouble was…she hadn’t the faintest inkling of what she was looking for! It took her over an hour to select just a few of the items. Many of them, were little more than pieces of flimsy lace, held together by the thinnest of elastic. One particular item had her completely mystified. It looked like a silk bra, lipstick red in color, but there the similarity ended. Hanging down from the front and rear were four long ribbons, each with tiny silver catches fastened at the end. She assumed that they were there to fasten stockings to.

“Exquisite isn’t it? It’s one of Gaultier’s finest designs,” volunteered the man, then looking around over his shoulder, as if expecting Jean Paul himself to suddenly walk in added, “I agree it’s a little over priced…but well worth it.”

Susan examined the price tag, and then sucked in her breath. The little man was correct; it was way over priced, but something kept nagging in the back of her mind. She knew she had to have it.

Her items selected, she followed the queens hairstyle up the stairs, where he carefully wrapped each item in tissue paper, and carefully placed them in a box. Susan smiled in admiration as she watched how carefully he handled each garment, as though he lovingly cherished each one, and was perhaps sorry to see them go.

“Will that be cash dear…or credit card?” he announced, the businessman instinct returning.

Susan smiled at the way he addressed her as dear. Somehow it reminded her of England. She handed over her Master card and waited whilst he filled out the appropriate paper work. Thanking him, she picked up the package, and then floated out into the busy street…feeling giddy with excitement. She could hardly wait to get home and try on a few things.

It took over an hour, before Susan finally clicked the lock closed to the door of her apartment. Kicking off her shoes, she walked into the bathroom and ran the taps to fill up the bathtub. She noticed that her dresser drawers were still open, her ‘Sensible’ underwear still strewn across the bed, where Elliot had thrown them. Pushing them aside, she placed the package down beside her and gingerly unfastened it’s pink ribbon. She found her fingers beginning to tremble a little, as she peeled back the tissue paper, and gazed upon her new purchases.

“God! What would mother say?” she laughed, holding up the tiniest of black thongs.

She carefully examined each item in turn, wondering what Elliot would think when she showed them to him. Particularly the two “g” strings, that was no more than little thin pieces of elastic held together by…well nothing at all really. She had a sudden urge to strip off and put one on, but decided against it…not until she had bathed anyway. No point in soiling the merchandise she thought…not the way I’m feeling at the moment…wet and horny!

She took particular care whilst bathing, scrubbing her skin almost raw with the ‘Loofa’ as though she wanted to rid herself of the old Susan…to wash her away…to be born again. Reaching over to the cabinet, she rummaged around for her Lady Shave: an instrument that had not seen the light of day for several months, and then lying on her back, raised her right leg out of the water and with gentle strokes, began shaving until the skin shone. This she repeated on the other leg, before concentrating on her under arms, until they too in turn felt smooth to the touch.

The final preparation proved awkward…her pubis! She realized that something would have to be done if she intended wearing the sort of underwear that Elliot had suggested. She stood up to better survey herself in the mirror, and biting her bottom lip: a nervous gesture that she had started of late, particularly after meeting Elliot, made the first stroke with the razor. The fine downy hair came away easily, and she wondered what all the trepidation had been about. It took her several minutes to complete the task, before admiring her handiwork in the mirror.

To her dismay, she found that her shaving technique left a lot to be desired. Although meticulous in her administrations, her ‘Landing Strip’ as she believed other girls called it, ran at a forty-degree angle. Cursing herself for her clumsiness, she decided that there was no other option but to remove all the hair completely.

And so it was, only moments later that she stood in the center of her bedroom, and after toweling herself dry, made her second mistake! Reaching over for the small bottle of ‘Obsession’ off the top of her dresser, she applied a few drops behind her ears, and then thought it a good idea to rub some on her now naked pubic region. The pain was instantaneous! No slow build up…just a searing stinging sensation like a million bee stings, wracking their way at her womanhood. Dropping the bottle, she danced around the apartment, cursing and clutching at her offending parts like a woman possessed. It wasn’t until she collapsed onto the bed, and the stinging had subsided a little, that she suddenly broke out into giggles of laughter at her own stupidity.

The ‘g’ string was the first item that she tried on. It felt strange at first: the tight elastic disappearing between the cheeks of her buttocks, but after a few moments found it comfortable. She tried to imagine what they would think of her at the office, if ever they were to find out. Next, she selected a matching bra from the box, and slipped it on. The old queen at the shop had called it a ‘Vivian Westwood’ special. It had cost her an arm and a leg, and she wondered what was so special about it. Glancing into the mirror, it became obviously apparent.

“Jesus H Christ!” she swore, “Where the hell did they come from?”

She stared hypnotically at her own reflection. Gazing back at her was a beautiful woman, for the first time in years…no, in her life Susan felt herself to be desirable. Her eyes stayed glued to her reflection, almost afraid that it would disappear before her very eyes, and she would wake up and find it had all been a dream. It rapidly dawned on her, that if a few bit’s of expensive lace and elastic could transform her so much…so quickly. Then what would she become after a few more sessions with Elliot?

Her narcissism was suddenly cut short by a sharp knock at the door. In panic, not wanting her self-vanity to be discovered, she plucked up a red silk dressing gown from the package, and hurriedly bundled everything out of sight under the bed. Checking to see that everything looked normal, she made her way to the door and looked through the spy hole. Her heart suddenly leapt to her throat as she realized who it was. Tentively she unlocked the door.

“Hello Elliot…what brings you here?”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“Hello Elliot…what brings you here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead his eyes swept her up and down as she stood against the open door, holding her robe closed over her chest. It was obvious from his expression that he knew what she'd been doing. He’d sent her out to buy lingerie and now here she was at home, wearing a brand new dressing gown, her face still flushed with excitement and heat from her bath, her feet and legs bare. He made no attempt to conceal the open look of carnal appreciation in his eyes. He had caught her feeling her sexiest, and he immediately picked up on it. He walked in and closed the door behind him. He had a small parcel with him.

“I called at your office and they told me you’d gone for the day,” he said, his eyes never leaving her body. “I thought perhaps you’d taken ill; perhaps you overdid it last night.”

“No, no,” she said. “I just decided to make an afternoon of it. You’re right. I do work too hard, and God only knows how many days off they owe me. I just thought…”

“Then you did it?” he asked. “You did as I said? You went to Denzil? You must have met Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” she asked. “Oh, you mean…the man who works there?” She remembered the mincing queen who’d waited on her.

But Elliot wasn’t paying attention to her words. He’d walked into the room with his eyes fastened on her and she, out of instinct, had backed up, still holding her robe closed over her near-nakedness. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her like this, if ever. Never with this hungry intensity. She felt as though she were being x-rayed, and she was very aware of the feel of the new lingerie, how thin and insubstantial it was, the silkiness of the robe against her skin. His eyes positively gleamed in his dark face as he looked at her.

“What did you get?” he asked. “Show me.”

She was thankful for the distraction of having to do something besides standing there and being stared at. She tied her robe as close as she possibly could, and he followed her swaying hips into her bedroom. With some trepidation she bent and retrieved the packages from under the bed.

“Open them,” he said.

The relief she’d felt in being able to show him her purchases quickly faded as she opened the boxes and dug through the tissue paper to uncover one flimsy garment after another; everything silky, stretchy, obscenely sheer or wickedly black: a woman’s full armamentarium of the weapons of sex and seduction. It didn’t help that Elliot picked up each garment and ran it sensually through his hands, caressed it, or held it up appreciatively, his eyes glowing like laser beams. Showing him the garments suddenly seemed terribly intimate, like telling him her innermost secrets, and it had much the same effect. The sexual tension was so thick in the room that she was aware of everything, including the fact that only the skimpiest whisps of fabric stood between her nakedness and his raw lust. That he was still completely clothed made her feel especially vulnerable.

“You did well,” he said as he closed the last box. “Always remember that you deserve the absolute best, and settle for nothing less. Damn the expense. You’ll find that money comes to money, and the more you spend, the more you’ll get. It works like that." He turned to her. "Now show me what’s under your gown.”

“Elliot! My God!” She could feel herself blush bright red.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’re not a child. You were just trying things on when I came in, excited as hell, weren’t you? Come over here. Come here, Susan. Stand in front of me.”

She did as he said, walking up to him with her head down, unconsciously holding the lapels of her robe closed with both hands. He took her shoulders and turned her around so that she was standing with her back to him, facing the big mirror on her wall. She could see him standing behind her, peering over her shoulder, his eyes positively alight with lascivious greed.

His hand went to the sash of her robe, she could feel his fingers against her stomach as he untied it. He took her wrists in his hands and pulled her arms down to her sides and the robe fell open, the edges catching on the peaks of her breasts, and she felt the cool air on her naked skin. She kept her eyes down, not daring to see his face in the mirror as he looked at her exposed body. Instead she looked down to see the wispy thin gauze of her straining bra, black against her pale skin. She knew her nipples were erect and that he couldn’t fail to notice it. She heard him sigh with pleasure as her body was revealed, and he gave a low moan of appreciation.

“Elliot…”

“Hush,” he said. “You knew this was coming.”

She felt his breath on the side of her neck. His lips had to be only millimeters from her skin. He paused there, inhaling her fragrance, the perfume he couldn't place: the same she had worn in the restaurant. She readied herself for the electric contact, and then his lips were on her flesh, soft and warm, tasting her. She instinctively went to raise her arms but he kept her wrists at her sides.

“You’re not to touch me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she answered. She didn;t understand, but she would obey him.

He took the lapels of her robe and pulled them open, laying the garment so that it hung on the outside of her breasts. He stood close enough to her so that she could feel his cock against her bottom, already semi-erect, throbbing with each beat of his heart. Only his clothes and the thin silk of her robe separated them.

He wanted her ready. He wanted her more than ready. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her; he wantd her to ache for him. He let go of her wrists and brought his hands up so that his palms touched the hard and pointed peaks of her breasts, and he rubbed his hands in slow circles, barely touching her, making her moan and shudder. Then he reached around her and took her right breast in his left hand and pulled her back against him hard. He pressed his hard cock against her and pressed his lips to the side of her neck, and with a hungry moan he took possession of her.

 

[Cherrie]

Feeling his strong arms encircled around her, his hardness pressing against her buttocks ever pulling her closer…tighter… threatening to consume her. She fought the urge to resist him… to tell him that she wasn’t ready for all this, but found she could only stand motionless, as he had commanded. Her will, no longer her own, for it now belonged to him…was his to command. It was as if he had taken possession of her very soul! Now he was the Master.

She trembled as she felt his right hand slowly travel down her belly, her heart turning somersaults inside her chest…a heart that now belonged to him. His fingers began tracing tiny circles around her navel, and with each loop the anticipation that they may descend lower, and find the wetness that awaited them there, was almost too much to bear!

“Please Elliot,” she moaned softly, “I can’t take much more of…”

“Shhh,” he whispered, gently cutting off her protests. “Soon…very soon.”

Susan realized that her body ached for him…ached for his touch. He had awoken a longing in her…a fire that smoldered deep within…needing to be quenched. Raising her head, she looked towards the mirror, searching for his face. His eyes smiled back at her making her blush even redder. She felt embarrassed, almost voyeuristic as she gazed at the reflection. The silk robe, now discarded, lay at their feet, his hands embracing her body, his arms wrapped around her like a mother cradling an infant.

She stood in silence, watching, but not daring to move as his hand at last started it’s slow decent, his fingers delicately creeping beneath the elastic of her ‘g’ string. All the time those eyes, those dark eyes of his riveted to hers, almost daring for her to resist.

“Oh Elliot!” she moaned softly, as his roaming fingers found their mark.

He smiled sardonically as he watched her reaction in the mirror. Her eyes held tightly shut, the parting between her moist lips, whilst all the time purring like a frightened kitten. He felt her stiffen slightly as his fingers parted her labia to reach the inner sanctum that lay within.

“Oh Elliot!” she moaned again, this time with more urgency. “Yes…yes.” As though her permission was all that he needed.

She felt his nimble fingers: which seemed to have taken on a life of their own, begin frantically to frig away at her now engorged clitoris. She was close…very close. She knew that he wanted her as much as she needed him, of that she was certain. The temperature from his rigid cock, which still pressed itself against her buttocks, bore testimony to that. She felt an irresistible urge to just scream, “Fuck me,” at the top of her voice, but that would have spoiled the magic of his dancing fingers.

In one swift movement, his finger had entered her, followed by two…then three! Susan began to unconsciously gyrate her hips, trying to impale herself harder upon his hand: her orgasm only seconds away… Then she came!

Elliot held her even more tightly, less her legs should buckle from beneath her, silently grinning as she twitched and moaned, like a fish on a hook. His fingers, still buried deep inside her, feeling the contractions as the muscles of her cunt went into involuntary spasms. He knew then that she was his to enjoy, to mould and one day…even cherish. Removing his hand, he offered it up to his lips, savoring her taste…savoring the pleasures yet to come.

Susan watched him through the mirror, enthralled and perhaps a little perturbed as he licked her moisture from his fingers. No man had ever done that before…not enjoyed her as much as this man had, and yet asked for nothing in return. Elliot glancing at the mirror caught her staring.

“You needed that,” he announced, his voice suddenly bringing back the real world to her apartment. “I guess from your reaction…it’s been a long time?”

“Too long, but…”

“But nothing,” he interrupted, “ I told you before Susan, you’re a sexual woman. You’ve got this Cinderella character locked deep inside yourself and need to let her out. This is one Fairy tale that I know you’d like to see come true.”

“ I never regarded myself as the Cinderella type,” she defended, and then added. “If I’m Cinderella…then who’s the ugly sisters?”

“I don’t know,” replied Elliot reaching for his coat, “perhaps it’s your parents, or Darlton & Gracefield…they’d be good candidates for a start.”

Susan realizing that she was still semi naked picked up the robe and slipped it on over her shoulders. She knew that he was right, but somehow she was just too proud to admit it.

“Should I still come over tonight at six?” she asked, opening the door hoping beyond hope that he would say yes.

“Off course…and wear some of your new clothes…something really sexy. I’ve got something special to show you.”

“Mmm…I’m intrigued,” she replied mockingly and then as an afterthought added.
“Tell me…if I’m Cinderella, what does that make you…Buttons?”

He turned to face her, half in, half out of the doorway, his dark eyes suddenly blazing. “No Susan…I’m Elliot…Elliot Trier and don’t you ever forget that.” Then he was gone.

It was just over an hour later that Susan realized that should she drink anymore of the cheap red wine, she would be completely drunk. Elliot’s words kept running rings around in her head.

“How dare he call me a ‘Cinderella’? Who the fuck does he think he is?” she cursed at the porcelain figure that stared down silently from the top of the mantelpiece. “Mr. High and fucking mighty.”

Secretly somewhere deep inside her intoxicated brain, she knew he was right. She had been a doorstop for far too long. Even as a child in her teens, she had been scolded by her Edwardian styled parents for speaking to the wrong boys, or for sitting carelessly.

“Why the hell shouldn’t I sit carelessly, if I want too? They’re my knickers, if I want to show them, then I will. What the hell in God’s name is all the bloody fuss about…they’re clean aren’t they?”

The figurine sat motionless, neither hearing nor caring as Susan ranted on.

“Christ Mother! What would you make of this then?” she cried, lifting both her legs high into the air and then spaying them apart in order to show off the thin, still wet elastic that ran along her crotch. “Beauties don’t you think?”

It had been a long time since she had gotten herself this angry. Her recent confusion, helped along by a cheap bottle of ‘Plonk’ seemed to be all the therapy she needed. There had been no one in her life, since she’d left home No one to confide in, no one to listen, and in particular…no one to care. No one that is, until she had met Elliot.

“Oh sweet, sweet Elliot! My master and saviour.”

For every high, there’s always a low, and Susan’s low quickly made itself known. Uncontrollably she placed her head between her hands and wept. She cried like she had never before cried, not since her younger days as a child. She cried until the tears that ran down her face subsided into silent sobs. All the anger and pent up emotions exercising themselves from her body.

And still, the porcelain figurine remained silent. For if it could have had a consciousness, and had not just been made out of clay. It would have witnessed a rebirth, a Butterfly spreading it’s delicate wings, and about to take flight.

It was a brand new Susan that emerged from the bathroom later that afternoon. She had preened, groomed and bathed herself with meticulous care, albeit her head still throbbed, but apart from that she was feeling wonderful. She had already decided that tonight was going to be special. Tentatively she reached across the bed, and picked up the lipstick colored bra.

“Ok then… Miss Westwood,” she muttered, “Lets see what you can do.”

She stood in front of the mirror, the memories of earlier flooding back, and slipped on the bra, fastening it with some difficulty. The effect was immediate! Her breasts, which she had never considered large, were squeezed together and uplifted, giving her a cleaverage that would have been envied by any woman. Giggling, Susan paraded backwards and forwards in front of the mirror, arching her back whilst sticking out her chest, and then leaning forwards to wiggle them, like a stripper would do in some seedy nightclub. Satisfied with the results, she gingerly opened the stockings: the denier so fine as to be almost invisible, and carefully slid them along her silky smooth legs, fastening each to clips on the ends of the ribbons.

The feeling was strange but sumptuous. The smoothness of the long ribbons running the full length of her torso, framing her nakedness felt extremely sensuous. Suddenly feeling wicked; she walked over to her wardrobe and picked out a dress that would complement her new outfit. The dress she had chosen was the palest of gray, with off-white pin stripes and small silver buttons running down its entire length. She slipped it on, before returning to the mirror, where she selected which buttons to leave unfastened. The decision was easy, now that she had a cleaverage; something to show off, she left the top three buttons of the bodice undone.

“So you want me sexy do you…Mr. Trier?” she teased mockingly at her reflection in the mirror. “Well how’s this?”

Bending down, she gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it slowly up to her waist.

“Look Mr. Trier…Susan isn’t wearing panties.”

Susan fell into fits of laughter at her own pantomime. Trying to imagine what he would say if he knew. Then as her laughter subsided, decided, “Well why the hell not!”

The clock on the dresser chimed out the hour, it was now five o’clock. Her head still ached slightly, so she decided that she still had time to make herself a pot of good old fashioned ‘Earl Gray’ and take a couple of pain killers. It was whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, that she noticed a small package, leaning against one of the cushions on the sofa. She walked over and picked it up, examining it for clues. There emblazoned across the top she read:

Everything comes for those that wait!

She found it all very mystifying, and couldn’t understand why Elliot had put it there. Excitedly she ripped open the brown paper wrapping, only to reveal a black rectangular videotape. Puzzled, she inspected the wrapper again, searching for any clues as to why he would want to give her such a strange gift. Switching on her TV, she inserted the cassette into her player and pressed the switch.

Nothing seemed to be happening on screen, all she could make out, was a large bed in an empty room. She recognized the bed immediately, the chains hanging from the head and tailboards were unmistakable. Then she saw movement in the corner of the room, just slightly off screen. The blood drained from her face, as she sat horrified at what she was watching. On screen a woman had just entered the room and was climbing onto the bed. Suddenly she felt dizzy; as her whole world crashed around her… it was she! Susan was watching herself…

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He had been looking for someone like her, someone just like her: a diamond in the rough, beautiful, intelligent, accomplished, and yet someone with a lack of some essential quality, someone who was not quite entirely connected to their own needs and desires, their own self. It had been his genius that he had known where to look for such a woman, in the ranks of business’s middle managers who labored under the glass ceiling in the business world, where all the complicated feelings of success and failure, greed and envy all collided, and lives and careers were tossed like tiny rafts in a sea of ruthless competition, where the stakes were high enough that people gambled everything for the tiniest bit of advantage.

He hadn’t lied to her. He was good at what he did, even if he had stumbled into this line of work quite by accident. The fact was though, he had never undertaken a project this daring, and one in which he was so personally involved. He fully intended to turn her into the woman she wanted to be. At least, that’s the public image he would give her; he had other plans for the kind of woman she would be in private. But he was wise enough to know that people didn’t go around trying to change their image if they were already certain of who they really were inside. The idea that a diet or program of exercise or any sort of external modification could change who you were was just a delusion, and the people who would be attracted to such a challenge were precisely those people who remained a mystery to themselves. The truth was, he wouldn;t be able to change anyone. All he could do was teach Susan who she already was. It was his particular genius to know Susan better than she knew herself in that regard.

The problem now was that he himself might lose control of his project. He had certainly gone too far the first night during the massage, but the feel of her compliant flesh under his hands had gotten to him. He hadn;t known he would be so affected by her. He had expected a certain level of submission from her: that went with the whole idea of having a personal trainer. What he hadn’t counted on was her own repressed sensuality: the way she’d yielded under his touch, the way she'd reveled in it. She was far more sensuous than he'd imaginied, and her own sexuality was closer to the surface. She had aroused feelings in him more overwhelming than he'd supposed, feelings he was finding very difficult to control.

Of course he intended to seduce her. More than that, he intended to conquer her: to become her master and lover and mold her into the kind of woman he’d always dreamed of having. She was proud, intelligent, and terrifically capable in all aspects of her life except one, and that one was where he would work on her: where he would put the lever with with to turn her around. But to get maximum leverage, he had to make her want him desperately. He had no doubt that he had the passion and depth of feeling necessary to seduce and even subdue her, but he wanted to be sure that she would be ready for him. He wanted her to be white hot when he began to forge her into the person he knew she wanted to be.

“Where are your things?” he asked her as he let her into the loft.

She was stunning, but his words caught her off guard. She’d obviously taken him at his word when he desired her to wear something sexy, and perhaps it was too soon for her to know that this was an exercise night, and that the routine couldn’t be broken no matter what without dire consequence. But he had given her confused signals. Leaving the tape behind had been a very wicked touch, unmistakable in its meaning, and he could hardly blame her for the way she showed up here tonight, expecting what she had every right to expect.

His words took her aback. She was already filled with anxiety about appearing this way before him, desperate for his approval and dreading any sort of rejection. She had taken a big gamble coming to him dressed like this, and he felt like a cad for given her any reason to reproach herself.

“Never mind,” he said, looking her up and down. “I’m sure we can find something else to work on.”

Before she could answer he wrapped her in his arms and his mouth found hers. He bore her back against the wall of the narrow hallway until he leaned against her, his body pressed to hers. Her kiss was excited and nervous, and her hungry eagerness enflamed him as much as the feel of her body pushing back against him. She had the passion of a woman newly awakened, frightened of what she was feeling, but he could feel how she melted in his embrace, how she gave herself up willingly.

He broke the kiss and backed away from her to look in her eyes, and what he saw there told him that there was no more time for words or playing exercise games. He had already brought her to orgasm and she had no descrets from him. She asked only that he forgive this wantonness on her part and take her all the way, that he finish what he started, and the fact was that her wantonness was exactly what he wanted. He felt a thrill of desire for her like he hadn’t felt for a woman for a very long time.

Without a word he took her hand and led her upstairs. He threw her coat on a chair and led her back to the bedroom: the one with the bed and the chains. He knew it and she knew it, and she didn’t hesitate.

At the doorway he embraced her again, and now, with the bed so close, she let herself go, molding herself to him, her nails clawing at his back. He reached dwon and cupper her buttocks in his hands and pulled her against him so that she could feel his cock, hard and rampant, throbbing with desire for her.

When they broke the kiss she was trembling. He pushed her so that she leaned against the wall and his hands went to the buttons of her dress: so many buttons, and despite himself his fingers shook. The buttons across her breasts were stretched tight and flew apart as he touched them, revealing the sheerest bra, stuffed to bursting. He groaned and lowered his head and sucked her hot, sweet flesh into his mouth and Susan grtabbed onto his hair and held on for dear life as he lashed her with his tongue. She raised her leg and rubbed the inside of her thigh against his legs, and he reached down with his hands and brabbed her ass again, this time pulling her skirt up as he went. When he grabbed her next he found naked skin and realized that she wasn't wearing any knickers at all.

The feel of her naked skin and the knowledge that she'd dressed this way for him drove him wild, and without thinking he spanked her naked flesh, just to feel it under his hand. Susan gasped and pressed her breasts against him, and he spanked her again, then again, the sound as loud as a pisol shot in the still apartment.

When he looked at her, her eyes were glowing, incandescent. Her lips were parted expectantly

“You like that?” he teased, pulling her close and soothing her bottom where he’d spanked her. “If you like that I’ve got something else to show you.”

He went to the head board and unclipped one of the chains that hung there. On the end was a brand new shiny black leather cuff, open and waiting.

 

[Cherrie]

She felt no trepidation as she stood watching him she was beyond that. It was more a feeling of apprehension…expectancy. She had followed him willingly, like a Lamb following the Shepard, as he held her by the hand, guiding her towards the room upstairs. Then he had taken her in his arms and kissed her. Not just an ordinary kiss, like two lovers, it had been more burning…more passionate, as though he had wanted to consume her. She felt her desire building up to a fervor, the stinging from the spanking still burning away at her buttocks. Now as she stood there watching him unclipping the chains, she had no doubts about what his intentions could be.

Elliot saw the anxiety register in her eyes, reminiscent of a frightened child that had lost it’s mother, and found that it amused him. Walking over to her, he gently ran the back of his hand across her cheek. His touch so tender, so reassuring that all her fears melted away in an instant. She knew then, that she could trust this man implicitly. What ever he had in mind, she would be a willing pupil.

“Please take off your dress Susan,” he said softly.

The request, although spoken so tenderly, she felt was more of a command. A command that she knew she must obey. She hesitantly began to unfasten the remainder of the buttons down the front of her dress, her fingers trembling, making her fumble awkwardly. At last, the dress fell away to the floor at her feet, leaving her standing there all but naked under his hypnotic gaze.

He stood there motionless, his dark eyes drinking in every detail of her body, his animal instincts arousing themselves, threatening to make him rush forward and just take her…like a dog that fucks a bitch. But that wasn’t what he really wanted, not yet. First he had to dominate her, mould her mind and body, before fully possessing her, and then take her to new levels of sexual awareness… somewhere he knew she had never been.

Susan also stood there motionless, the feeling of vulnerability almost overwhelming. Her mind racing, half of her wanting to just pick up her things and run… run back to the ordinary world, where ordinary people go about their ordinary ‘nine till five’ lives. But that was the old Susan; she had given all that up. Now she wanted Elliot, her master, to take her across the threshold, and show her what could be found on the other side.

Instinctively, as though she somehow knew that it would please him, she lowered herself onto one knee holding her arms outstretched, and bowed her head towards the floor.

“My Lord,” she uttered in complete surrender, as he walked forwards and fastened the cuffs about her outstretched wrists. Her awakening was about to begin!

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“My Lord,” she said, kneeling before him, offering her wrists to him.

She knows, he thought. She already knows what’s going to happen. But more than that, she accepted it, accepted it more fully and completely than he had ever imagined she would. Certainly he suspected that beneath her competent and independent exterior beat the heart of a sexual submissive: that’s why he had chosen her. And his suspicions had been confirmed when he viewed the tape from the hidden video recorder he’d set up in the bedroom. The whole room had been a set up: the big bed, the chains hanging from the head and footboards. He’d intended for her to see it, and, as he’d hoped, she had taken the bait. The meaning of the chains had been clear, and she had given in to her unspoken curiosity and desire, had climbed onto the bed and imagined herself chained there for his pleasure. He had seen her on the tape, the way she gripped the chains and writhed in sensualanticipation, imagining herself tied and helpless.

But he hadn’t known she would accept it so willingly. Often they did not. Often women like this were strangers to themselves, finding the notion of sexual submission strange, even abhorrent; denying it. It was not the way they wanted to think of themselves, and as a consequence of this so many of them were strangers to their own capacity for pleasure, their sexual experiences incomplete and unfulfilling, though they rarely knew why. But clearly this wasn’t the case with Susan. She was ready for it: even eager.

He pulled her to her feet. “Get up,” he said. “I’ll tell you when you have to kneel. I’ll tell you everything from now on, do you understand?”

She kept her head down submissively and nodded once, afraid of displeasing him. There was no way she could know that her very act of submission had inflamed him, that the sight of her naked and waiting in front of him brought his desire for he to an instant peak.

He took her hair and pulled her head up so that she was forced to look at him, forced to see his desire for her in his eyes. He let her look until she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore. The thought that she could inspire such longing in any man filled her with a thrilling weakness. There was too much lust, too much hunger in his gaze, and at last she had to look away.

He freed the cuff from the chain and buckled it around her wrist, then did the same with the other cuff. She looked at the black leather against the whiteness of her skin, the silver buckles cinching the straps snug, but not too tight. They felt like his hands on her wrists, taking possession of her. He turned her around and put her hands behind her back and she felt him clip the cuffs together, rendering her helpless, powerless to defend herself against anything he might choose to do.

Her excitement at her helplessness affected him too, and he turned her back to face him and kissed her with a kiss of such passion and desire that she felt herself gush with sudden expectent wetness. She had to turn away to gasp for breath and he took advantage of that to lower his mouth to her breasts. His tongue traced a wet and teasing circle around her already turgid nipple, and instinctively Susan tried to bring her arms up to protect herself, only to find them pinned behind her back. There was nothing she could do to stop him. Already she was his. She had given herself.

His hand went between her legs and she moaned with shame and arousal. She knew she was wet, and now he would know too. He would know how her own helplessness excited her, and know that she was his to take as he wished. The only thing that saved her was that he was absorbed in his own furious excitement, an excitement that seemed to dwarf both her own desires and her sense of shame.

He moved her back until her legs hit the bed, then he lowered her down upon it. He took her legs and turned her so that she was fully on themattress and lying on her bound arms, then he stood back from her and undressed, taking his time, letting her see what was in store for her.

Susan watched as his broad, muscular chest was exposed, the tightness of his belly. Unconsciously she licked her lips as he pulled his sweatpants and shorts down in one tangled bunch and his big cock sprang free, hard and fully erect, rampant from its nest of black hair above the muscular columns of his thighs.

She was no virgin. She’d been with men before and always had lovers for the taking, but never anything like this. Never had she felt the danger of a man’s masculinity as she felt it now, with her so naked and defenseless, and yet his very menace excited her terribly because she knew that he wasn’t going to just make love to her like the others had. He was going to fuck her, with all the nastiness and brutality that the word imnplied; take what he wanted from her, take control of her just as he’d taken control of her life ever since they’d met only a short time ago.

It was almost like a dream, like a deeply erotic dream in which she saw herself ravaged by a man’s implacable lust, and she realized now that all those dreams she’d had—dreams she would never even let her conscious mind think about—were all prologue to this moment. He climbed onto the bed next to her and leaned over her, covering her with his heat and strength. He found her mouth with his, and his tongue traced along her lips as she opened her mouth to him in mute acceptance, encouraging him despite her fear. His hand closed on her breast, feeling her, appreciating the way her feminine flesh yielded before his touch. Whenever he touched an especially sensitive spot she jumped and pulled at the cuffs that bound her arms, but there was no escape. This time there would be no escape. This wasn’t a dream.

She whimpered as she felt his weight on top of her, felt his knees urging her legs apart and suddenly she wanted to fight him. She felt some chasm open in front of her and knew that she was about to lose a second virginity, and that once this happened there would be no going back, ever again, and she had to fight him, had to resist. But it was futile, as she’d known it would be. His strength and the ease with which he overcame her made a joke of her feeble struggles. He pushed her legs apart and she felt the virile heat and heaviness of his long cock against her furrow. It lay there against her, throbbing and burning with a savage heat and her body betrayed her. Her thighs opened wide for him, her hips arched off the bed seeking him.

She closed her eyes tight and waited for the first delicious plunge.

 

[Cherrie]

She wanted to cry out…beg him to enter her now, quickly…harshly, even cruelly, if that’s what he so desired. Her whole body shaking in anticipation at the delight she knew was soon to come. The delight she had denied herself…until now, was as if for her whole life had been building up to this one precious moment, and nothing else had mattered. She raised her nylon-clad legs high into the air, gliding them along his strong muscular thighs, wrapping them tightly around his waist. Her feet locking together behind his back trying desperately to pull him closer… pull him inside her aching body and consume him totally.

“Oh Elli…”she started, but his lips once again found hers, silencing her pleas.

All she could manage was a silent whimper, the tears of joy beginning to cascade from the corners of her eyes, as she felt his strong hands upon her face, gently cupping her cheeks…but still he did not enter her. She wanted so desperately to hold him, to wrap her arms around his athletic body, but the cuffs prohibited this. Instead all she could do was wait, let him do to her, as he desired. She could still feel his manhood, his hard rampant cock, toying around her vaginal entrance, like a cobra ready to strike! She arched her back, her heels digging into his flesh, frantically attempting to impale herself …but still he held back.

‘Oh why, oh why are you doing this?’ she pleaded silently.

Elliot gazed into her half closed eyes, aware of the state of arousal that he was building within her. Susan could not have known that the feeling was mutual, and that he too had an inflamed burning animal passion deep within him… a Tiger that begged release from its cage in order to devour her. And devour her he would, but not yet. He wanted her on the very brink, to let her know that he was the Master, to do with her as he pleased. It took all his self-control not to just take her there and then, his lust growing stronger by the second, but he would bide his time. What he sought was her complete and utter surrender.

She felt him reach beneath her, his hands groping for the fastening of her bra, and then heard the loud ‘Pop’ as he released the tiny catch. She instinctively raised her bottom into the air, as he peeled it along her naked flesh, removing both her stockings in the process. Now she lay completely naked before him, her vulnerability on display, nothing concealed from his hungry eyes. For the first time, she felt ashamed as she met his gaze. Never before had she let a man dominate her like this one had. The trepidation she felt at her own defenselessness threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart raced, causing beads of perspiration to burst out from beneath her skin, and run in droplets onto the silk sheet below her. She wanted to cry out…to object, but she knew deep down that she was utterly under his control, her passion running out of control.

Suddenly he was atop of her once more, his naked skin against hers. She gasped as she felt his lips encircle her nipple, his tongue flicking it back and forth. Then the other until she felt she could stand no more. The wetness between her legs, filling the room with a sweet odour as her lust for him grew in its intensity. She struggled with the manacles that held her captive, wanting to reach out and rake her long fingernails along his back…to hurt him…to put an end to his tormenting. At last she cried out!

“Please Elliot, please,”

“Say it,” he replied with all the gentleness of a priest.

“Make love to me, I beg you,” she pleaded.

“No…say it. Tell me exactly,” he replied, knowing that once she did…she would be his.

Susan realized what he meant, and then with an urgency in her voice, which even surprised herself, she cried, “Fuck me Elliot…Fuck me hard!”

She felt no embarrassment, no shame at using what she regarded as ‘Gutter’ language. The type of language only a whore on the streets would use, for after all, wasn’t that exactly what she was…a whore…his whore! Besides she was past caring now, she didn’t want him to make love to her, that was for sweethearts and blushing brides. She wanted him to ‘shag’ the living daylights out of her, to fuck her like the crazed animal that she had become.

Then she screamed! Not a scream of pain nor one of alarm, but a scream of pure ecstasy. At last, and in one sweet movement he held her tightly in his arms…and entered her!

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He lay on top of her, his mouth teasing at her erect nipples, his hard, thick cock lying along the soft furrow between her legs. He wanted her hot, desperately hot. He wanted her to need him in a way that she would remember. He wanted her to need him so badly that nothing else would matter, not her shame nor her pride nor her own sense of self-respect. He wanted to own her completely, and for this he needed her to give herself up to him without reservation.

At the same time he knew it was a myth, this whole business about master and slave. Who controlled whom now? Yes, he had the freedom of movement, the freedom to do as he wanted with her, but at the same time his desire and need for her was beyond his control. The feel of her eager wetness against him made him shudder with eagerness, and he was no more master of his emotions than she was mistress of her body. Her beauty and vulnerability made him weak in the midst of his strength, and she conquered him with her surrender.

“Fuck me Elliot…Fuck me hard!” The sound of those words in her clipped British accent, spoken in a voice desperate with need overwhelmed him. The head of his prick found her opening and he grabbed her hair so he could study her face as he entered her for the first time, entered her and claimed her. He pushed his powerful hips forward and slid into her yielding body.

“Oh God!” she moaned, pushing up against him and trembling with her womanly hunger. he felt her tightness give way before his implacable hardness as he sunk deep, deeper into the sweetness of her body. He let go of her hair, reached down to cup her ass in his hands and pull her up against him, sheathing his entire length inside her. He felt her quiver around him, felt her long unused muscles clutch at his turgid length with a force and urgency beyond her conscious control. She was beyond thinking, and her body in its wisdom took over, knowing what she wanted even if she did not.

He felt her lips spread around the broad base of his cock and he was in her to the hilt, his heavy balls hanging against her anus, his hands filled with the firmness of her buttocks. His face was next to hers, and he could just see the look of pained rapture on her features as she tried to adjust to his punishing thickness. He didn’t move, just lay there basking in her heat and the pleasure of her body, letting her get used to her. He knew she hadn’t done this for a long time, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t want to hurt her and yet his need to possess her gripped him with a mindless force. He raised his head and his lips found hers; her mouth opened blindly and her tongue searched for him, wanting to feel him all over her, in every orifice she possessed. She could feel him twitching and jerking inside her as if with eagerness to get started, and every movement set off a cascade of deliciously lewd feelings in her cock-stuffed pussy. She ached to hold him, wrap her arms around her, but every attempt to move her arms brought her up against the unyielding shackles, reminding her that he was calling the shots, that she was no more than the instrument of his selfish pleasure.

He lowered his head to her breasts and fed on her flesh like a ravening wolf. He caressed them, squeezing them in his hands to make her aching nipples stand up for his lips and tongue, and as he sucked her breasts he began to move his hips.

Susan cried out. He filled her so completely that every movement was magnified a thousand times. She could feel his very heart beat in the throbbing of his cock inside her, feel his heavy testicles roll against her sensitive skin, and the thought of what was in them made her moan in shame at her own salacious desires.

“Susan, Susan,” he moaned down at her, repeating her name like a prayer as he sucked her tits and nuzzled the side of her neck. “You’re mine now, Susan. All mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, hardly knowing what she was saying. “All yours. Whatever you want.”

Her words seemed to set him off. He levered his body up off of hers, supporting himself on his outstretched arms as he began to drive his prick into her with deep strokes of his powerful loins. She felt small and helpless against the force of his desire and his need for her, and she could feel the dizzying strength of his lust, pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting in with such force that his body slapped loudly against hers, jarring her and filling her head with stars.

All of his strength went into his fucking her, into driving his prick as hard and as deep into her as he could manage. She had never felt anything like this from a man; such hunger and such savagery. Even with her eyes shut tight she could feel his eyes on her, could feel how he responded to every moan or whimper she uttered, every change of expression on her face, and her own helplessness began to work on her like an aphrodisiac, the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to stop him or defend herself; nothing she could do to deny him.

He fucked her brutally, and it was just what she wanted, to be driven into the mattress time and again by his hard thrusts, to feel him scour the length of her tender sheath, pushing her resistance aside, taking what he wanted from her. She opened her legs wide in masochistic surrender, wanting him to have it, wanting to be used and consumed by his lust. The room swirled around her, his hard cock pistoned in and out of her, his hands worked at her body, squeezing her breasts, her ass. He put his fingers to her lips and she sucked them inside, just as she would suck his cock whenever he demanded it. She heard him gasp and moan at her lewdness and she felt a flush of hot pride that she could give him such pleasure.

If this was what he wanted of her—if this was being his slave, his whore—than she would do it gladly. She felt herself alive as she hadn’t felt in years: ripe, desirable, and bursting with sexual vitality, her body aflame with carnal pleasure.

She heard him gasp. He started panting. “Close,” he was saying, “Susan I’m close! I can’t stop, can’t hold it back! Come with me, Susan! Come with me, Oh God!”

He grabbed her and held her tight, squeezing the very breath from her body, impossibly tight, and began thrusting so hard and deep that she cried out, partly from the sensation of his hard cock thrumming inside her and partly from the knowledge that he was about to ejaculate inside her. She pressed her body up against him, pulled hard at the cuffs that held her arms, and she felt him grow even thicker and harder inside her, felt his cock lurch and jerk like a living thing. He grabbed her ass and pulled her tight against him.

“Oh yes!” he cried, “Coming, Susan! Coming now!”

 

[Cherrie]

She heard him cry out, a cry of victory, like a hungry Wolf calling out for the pack at the moment of the kill, and every nerve ending in her body cried out with him. The feeling of his thick hard cock, expanding...pulsating deep within her womb, caused ripples of continuous pleasure to shoot throughout her body: Her whole existence was only for this moment, nothing else mattered.

She arched her back, feeling his fingers digging hard into the cheeks of her buttocks, as if he were an animal clawing at it’s prey, and crushed her throbbing clitoris hard against his rough pubic hair, rubbing it hard and causing herself to shudder at the sensation. Wrapping her legs around him, in order to grind herself deeper onto his shaft, she held him there, feeling him explode deep inside her. The awareness causing her whole body to shake as it went into spasms of pure delight… The exquisite pain, as she unconsciously bit down hard on her bottom lip, drawing blood, the taste exciting her, driving her on until she was over the edge.

The walls of her vagina pulsated, and then contracted, as it gripped at his throbbing cock in a loving embrace, threatening never to let it go, milking it dry as it erupted its contents into her eagerly awaiting cunt. If she could have sucked him in, never to let him escape, then she would have. So intense was the orgasm that she was experiencing.

“Oh Elliot…” she sobbed, between each contraction, her joy mixed with the feeling of utter defeat. “You…you bastard!”

She knew then that he had mastered her, ridden her like a well behaved filly. No man on earth had ever set her on fire like this one had; it was as though he had taken possession of her very soul. Every fibre of her being felt alive…vibrant, as she writhed and moaned un-shamefully beneath his manly torso: His body exciting her, spurring her on. The feeling of his skin…his naked flesh, pounding away at hers, taking her to the dizzy heights she had never been.

She looked up, searching for his eyes…seeking his approval, searching for any little tell-tale sign, that she had done well. The wicked glint that stared back at her gave her the confirmation that she sought. She was his…and he knew it!

His whole demeanor seemed to be that of a hungry beast that had eaten it’s fill, as he lay atop of her. Their sweat soaked bodies combined as one, their skins sticking together, as if that was always the way it was meant to be. It hadn’t been an act of love, not in its purest sense; she realized that it was much too early for that. It had just been unadulterated lust. Not lovemaking…not the kind you read about in books or pay to see at the movies, just fucking…fucking with such venom and brutality, that she knew up until this moment…she could never live without.

The world had only set aside such a short time, and now she intended to live it to the fullest. She had been awoken…awoken by him…the only man to get under her skin and bring what she had craved for all these years to the surface.

He reached out his hand, and gently grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes. She met his stare, her crystal blue eyes; still full of tears from the passions they had shared, gazed into his expectantly…strangely as though she could see into the dark recess of his soul…reading his thoughts.

“Yes,” she found herself uttering, even before he had even asked the question. “I am yours to command…I will deny you nothing my love.”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“I am yours to command…I will deny you nothing my love.”

He rolled her to the side and unclipped her wrists from behind her back, then brought her back and looked into her eyes In the state she was in he could see deep inside and what he saw was honesty, openness, and her own disbelief at what had just happened. He also saw her surrender, the complete truthfulness of what she’d just said, and the fervent transparency of this women beneath him filled him with a fresh and powerful surge of desire. She was willing, even if she didn’t know what she was vowing to do as yet. And there was no way he could tell her, not at this point. She would have to find out and feel everything for herself. Her journey was just beginning.

“It’s early to talk about love,” he said. “What we have now is a relationship: the relationship of a teacher to his student. You’re my student. You have been since we began this little undertaking, and now that’s just been made clearer. Now you’re going to start learning what it means to be trained.”

He rolled off of her and rested his head on his hand, staring down at her. Her chest was still heaving as she panted from the force of her orgasm, her body still wracked by little temblors of aftershock. He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips and felt her shudder anew. She was still on edge, every nerve stretched taut, so alive that every touch seemed to cut her to the quick.

Her terrible sensitivity and vulnerability moved him deeply, brought that surge of desire welling up from within. He dropped her hand and grabbed her hair, holding her head as his lips came down on hers with such raw passion that her body arched involuntarily off the bed again as if a live current went through her, seeking his touch even while his recently deposited semen leaked from between her lips, still hot from his own body. His kiss was like fire, making it too hot for her to breath, and she had to turn her head to the side and gasp for air.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said. “You’re even better than I hoped. You’re like a sexual animal aren’t you? You just can’t get enough.”

His words excited her even as they filled her with shame. What he said was true. His very touch seemed to turn her into a slut, his to command. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

He took her hand and clipped the cuff to one of the chains at the head of the bed, then he did the same with her other wrist. He moved away from her, went to the foot of the bed and attached the cuffs from the footboard to her ankles, pulling her legs to stretch them apart so that the chains held her snug. The chains on her wrists were slack: she could bend her elbows, but she knew that her sex was fully exposed to his gaze.

he watched her pull against the chains, testing their strength, and he could see apprehension fight with desire on her face. He knew what the feeling of manacles on her wrists did to a true submissive, how terribly erotic it was, how it stimulated her imagination and her desires, and he could see Susan’s excitement build, despite the fact that she’d just been more than satisfied. She was naked, totally helpless, and that thrilled her in a way that she could hardly understand.

But he understood. He leaned down and kissed her, and she opened her mouth and waggled her tongue at him in open submission, in a lewd invitation for him to avail himself of her nakedness, to take whatever he wanted from her. It was as she’d said: she would deny him nothing. She couldn’t deny him anything, not with the spell of the chains around her wrists and ankles.

It was just as she’d dreamed earlier, pretending to herself as she’d tried out his bed, only now it wasn’t a dream and it wasn’t pretend. She was bound in his big bed, a prisoner of his desires, and it thrilled her to her core.

He ran his hand down her body and found her sex, parted her lips and thrust his finger inside her, making her moan with delicious shame. He felt his own thick semen in her body, felt it drool out of her as he pumped his hand in and out.

“You delicious little slut,” he said. “You can’t help yourself, can you. You drive me wild for you, Susan!”

He moaned at his lewd words, wishing she had somewhere she could hide so he wouldn’t see her excitement, but there was no place to go.

She felt his weight on the mattress and looked up to see him kneeling near her face. His cock was already hard again, still glistening with her own secretions. He took himself in his hand and pushed his cock towards her lips.

 

[Cherrie]

Lying there his cock, rampant again, held only inches away from her pouting lips, made her realize just how vulnerable she had become. From the moment she had allowed herself to be chained and spread-eagled, to be rendered completely defenseless and gazed upon in all her naked glory, small doubts had starting nagging away at the back of her mind.

She pulled sharply at the cuffs, which held her crucified to the bed: Alarm registering in her eyes, and the silent pleas that could not form themselves into words, sticking in the back of her throat. Then the sweet submission, the realization that this is what she wanted all a long. She wanted him to do to her all the vile and nasty things that she had only dreamed about. Oh... there would be shame…shame and disgust at allowing herself to get into this predicament, but that was for later. Now all she longed for was… him… wanting him to do with her what he will!

The cuffs at her wrist giving just enough leeway for her to raise her head slightly off the pillow, she parted her soft lips and drank him in, her soft delicate tongue greeting him like a welcome mat, as it fluttered like a tiny bird, savoring the taste of their earlier passion. All the time she stared up into these eyes…these dark foreboding eyes, seeking his approval. She felt his hands, grabbing at the hair above her ears, drawing her closer, and forcing his hot throbbing manhood ever deeper.

“Suck it you Susan…suck it like the little slut you are!” His degrading words, causing her heart to beat ever faster.

She did as he commanded, sucking and teasing at its head, the tip of her tongue seeking the hole at its end, causing him to shudder every time it found its mark. His hips gently began to pick up a rhythm as he fucked gently away at her eager mouth, withdrawing and then thrusting once again deeply into her throat. Each forward thrust making her gag a little, but she was past caring. Susan, eyes now closed, should he decide to come on her face, felt the searing heat from his eyes, felt the heat along the thick shaft of his manhood, and knew that he was about to come once again.

Suddenly, and as quickly as he had started, he withdrew, holding himself back from the brink.

“Oh not yet Susan!” he smiled, clutching at the base of his cock and squeezing at its base, preventing himself from ejaculating. “There are many more pleasures to come first.”

She struggled to reach him, lifting her head as far as the restraints would allow… his cock… that what she wanted…needed most, still only inches from her upturned face. Her eyes held it fastened in their gaze: Her saliva still clinging from its end, hanging in fine gossamer threads, and draping away to join her hungry lips, like a widow spiders web.

He knelt across her, crushing her mouth to his, their tongues finding each other once again. She felt the heat from his throbbing member, nestled between the peaks of her swollen breasts, her nipples aglow with desire. She could feel the desire for him building, between her out stretched legs: A wanton desire that had been pushed away and denied for so long.

He pulled away once again, and held her eyes with his. Felt her heart beating beneath him as he sat astride her. Enjoying the turmoil that he knew was taking place behind these crystal blue eyes, the choice between what she had always been and what she now desired, locked in furious combat. Smiling he watched the terror run across her face, as he reached down behind her pillow and removed a long black silk scarf.

“You trust me…don’t you Susan,” he whispered, more of a statement than a question, as he let the delicate silk run itself through his fingers.

“Yes,” she replied.

He knew she was lying. He knew her now better than she knew herself.

“Oh Susan…Susan. I have so many hidden delights to show you!” he replied, as he placed the silk scarf around her head and fastened it over her eyes.

She wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, but her dark desires held her silent, allowing only the faintest of whimpers to escape from her lips. She felt giddy with excitement, her fear causing the adrenalin to surge around her body. She pulled at the chains, causing them to rattle slightly as they grated against the head and footboard of the bed: An eerie sound, which only emphasized her helplessness. She felt him climb off the bed, the release of his weight upon her causing her to panic once again. She didn’t want to be alone…not now, she had been alone for far too long.

Finding the will, she called out his name, her voice sounding strange in the now silent room.

“Why are you doing this?” she found herself screaming. “Please Elliot answer me!”

Suddenly, the feelings of fear and alarm returned instantly to one’s of passion, as she felt his smooth tongue…the roughness of his beard…slowly begin to glide their way up the inside of her thigh. Teasingly drawing ever closer to that part of her which desired him the most.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

The insides of her thighs were so soft, so delicate, the skin getting more and more sensitive as he neared his target. He ran the soft insides of his lips across her skin, then followed it with his wet tongue, and then retraced the wet trail of his tongue with soft, voluptuous kisses, savoring the feel of her helpless flesh beneath his lips.

Susan gasped, pulled hard against the chains that held her, but there was nothing she could do to make him hurry, nothing she could do to make him alter the slow, maddening licking and sucking of her thighs. He was intent on having his way with her, on exploring every inch of her skin, and his explorations brought him closer and closer to where she needed him most, but never got there.

“Ohhh…” she groaned when he planted a wet, lingering kiss in the crease where her leg met her torse, then ran his rough tongue down, slowly down, so that his beard just brushed her pulsing labia, increasing her frustration. The insides of both thighs were wet now, wet with his saliva, and still he hadn’t touched her. Susan felt her entire body throbbing with need. She tugged harder at the chains and began to grind her hips up desperately at him, trying to force his mouth against her. She chased him this way and that, panting with the exertion of raising her ass from the bed, but still he avoided her. She could feel her wetness seeping from her neglected pussy, trailing down between her ass cheeks. The blindfold only heightened her sensation of touch, till she felt like she could feel him while he was still inches from her body.

She jerked at the chains, gritted her teeth and snarled in frustration, and she heard him laughing at her. A low, lewd laugh, and suddenly she realized what she must look like, grinding her pussy up in the air, desperate for his salacious touch, her whole body trembling and dripping with perspiration. Shame and embarrassment slammed down on her like s fist. never had she acted this way before a man; before anyone, with no dignity, no shame. My God, what was he doing to her?

“Look at you,” he said softly, the evil in his voice giving her chills. “Quite the little strumpet, aren’t we? I’ve never seen such enthusiasm. It looks good on you, Susan. I like you like this. I want you to be like this all the time. Now tell me, who owns you?”

She couldn’t tell what was worse: being teased or not being touched at all.

“You do,” she said. “You own me. But please…”

Before she could finish his hot toungue slid against her sodden cunt. Susan bit back a scream of masochistic pleasure as she felt his thumb enter her and began to move inside her, and as his thumb explored her inside, his lips and tongue found her clit and he beagn to nurse on it, softly, insistently.

“Oh God!” she moaned, tossing her head from side to side, knowing she was lost. “Oh God yes!”

He fucked her and sucked her, staying with her as her hips began to instinctively pump back at him. One hand came up her body and found her breast, took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and began to softly roll it from die to side, sending honey-sweet spears of pain through her body. It merged with the throbbing pleasure in her pussy and Susan let herself go, gave up fighting entirely, and gave herself up to the pleasure of his hands and mouth.

There was no sense fighting, no sense in trying to resist. She felt herself rising up on a cloud of sensation, felt the energy gathering in her body. She couldn’t fight it if she tried. Safe behind her mask, she rose up to meet her orgasm and threw herself at it with a shameless cry of fulfillment, felt the helpless pleasure flood through her as he sucked her very soul into his mouth.

She hung there throbbing for life as tears gathgered in her eyes, then she fell crashing back down to the bed and the saftey of the chains. She wanted him now. She wanted him inside her, finishing her, giving her what she’d earned, but instead he slid into bed beside her. He took off the blindfold, unclipped her ankles and her wrists, gathered her into his arms and held her as she trembled in the aftershocks of her violent come.

Finally, when she had calmed down to the point where grateful sleep beckoned, he sat up.

“Come on, Susan,” he said. “We still have workput to get your through.”

“Oh my God!” she moaned. “You’re kidding! I can’t move a muscle.”

But he was already out of bed and stepping into some shorts.

“I’m not kidding. You don’t think you can fuck your way out of what you owe me, do you? You hiured me to turn you into a new woman, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her into a sitting position. He reached down and kissed her, a tender kiss that suddenly blazed into fresh hunger as her mouth met his. His fingers went to her breast and he gave her a playful pinch.

“And what a woman you’re going to be!” he said.

 

[Cherrie]

It was over two and a half later that Susan finally crawled into her own bed, after collapsing onto it tired and exhausted. Elliot had been as good as his word, and had put her through exercise after grueling exercise. She vowed that if she ever saw another weight machine, treadmill or exercise bike again…she would die! She felt like she had been run through a Mill grinder and then spat out at the other end. Every nerve, every sinew and muscles in her worn out frame ached, screaming out for merciful rest.

She kicked away the bedclothes, the cold air from the conditioner, causing her naked skin to suddenly break out into goose bumps, until it resembled that of a freshly plucked chicken. Her nipples extended themselves, proudly defying the sudden coldness. Rubbing her fingers delicately over each one, she tried to soothe away some of the soreness, the raw stinging sensations sending shudders down her spine.

“You Bastard! Elliot,” she cursed, under her breath, then added, “My sweet…sweet Bastard.”

She sat up and adjusted the small travel alarm that sat on her bedside table, carefully setting the timer for a five am wake up. Elliot had warned her that he would be around for her early morning jog around the park. She knew then, even before her head hit the pillow, that she would be getting very little sleep that night.

It was the dulcet tones from the alarm that dragged her back into the world of the living. It seemed that she had only just closed her eyes, but from the way the bedclothes had been disheveled, she assumed that someone had been sleeping there…but it sure as hell didn’t feel like her. Half falling, half climbing, she groped her way out of bed and threw the light switch.

“God I feel like Death warmed up,” she moaned quietly, as she lit the gas under the kettle, before making her way towards the bathroom. She looked back over her shoulder, the bed beckoning her.

‘Perhaps just another half an hour,’ she thought, but then quickly rejected the idea. She knew it wouldn’t go too well for her if he came and she was still in bed. After his brutal exercise regimen the previous night, she didn’t know what he might possibly do. Sighing in resignation, she turned on the cold water tap, took a deep breath and plunged herself in.

By the time six am arrived, Susan was sitting on the steps outside the building of her apartment, dressed in jogging bottoms and sweatshirt. She hadn’t had the time, nor the inclination to tidy up this morning, so had decided to wait for Elliot outside. Somehow she just didn’t want him seeing how lazy she felt this morning, that and the fact that the inside of her apartment, resembled the aftermath of a ‘Beverly Hillbilly’ hoe down.

As usual Elliot was on time, and as usual, thirty minutes later Susan was leant over the water fountain in the park, clutching at the stitch in her side… her lungs gasping for air. He had set a punishing pace for her this morning, seemingly enjoying her discomfort. If he knew just how delicate she was feeling this particular morning… then he hadn’t shown it, not one word! It’s as if last night had never happened. Oh he was pleasant enough, all business as usual, with her ‘Red Cross’ food parcel swung over his arm…but not one word about how she was feeling.

‘Perhaps he regrets what happened,’ she thought, ‘Perhaps he’s thinking its all a big mistake.’

“Penny for them.” He announced suddenly, shocking her back to reality.

“Wha…what?” she gasped, trying to keep her paranoia down to safe limits.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Oh, just thinking am I ever going to get fit…I feel so…so shagged out.”

“Shagged out…that’s a British term isn’t it?” he teased.

“I suppose it is.”

“Mmm…Shagged as in the meaning to be fucked, is that right Susan. Is that what you feel now fucked?”

She looked up at him puzzled.

“If that’s the case…then you’ve been doing it all wrong,” he joked lightheartedly, then added. “Soon Susan…very soon, I’ll show you what its like to be really fucked!”

She felt a shudder of excitement at his coarseness: The same excitement that she had experienced last night. The way he had said it, with such passion…with such lewdness. Her heart raced with the knowledge that he hadn’t forgotten. He still wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She felt the wetness building between her legs, as his filthy words rang in her ears, the words only a man would say to his slut… “I’ll show you what its like to be really fucked!”

He smiled as he watched the change of expression on her face, the look of penitence, replaced by that of a dog finding a bone. He knew his words…his coarseness turned her on, making his task that so much simpler. It had taken many years to find a woman as receptive as this one…a woman that he could mould into a delicious plaything…a slut to do his bidding, to carry out his every whim, no matter how crude or vile they may become. The time for her first testing would be soon…much sooner than she could ever imagine.

Susan walked ahead of him as they exited the park. She could feel his eyes burning into her tight ass as it wriggled to and fro, her cheeks fighting each other like boy scouts under a blanket. Mischievously, she lowered her hands and gripped the waistband of her jogging bottoms, and pulled them up tighter: The seam separating the ‘boy scouts’ and emphasizing her sexy curves. She was floating on a cloud as they rounded the corner to her building.

“Will I see you tonight?” she asked, as she skipped up the stone steps leading to the front door.

“Maybe sooner than that,” came his unexpected reply, “Just remember what I told you…wear something sexy. Something that reminds you of what you really are…a sexual woman.”

She watched him walk off down the street, before turning the key in the lock. His broad shoulders, the way he carried himself, she drank him all in, causing her heart to beat faster. Was it love she thought? No he had been right on that score, it was much too early for that. Never the less she felt a deep longing for him as she watched him disappear from view.

‘Oh well,” she thought, ‘back to the real world…back to invoices, receipts and bloody clients…back to her world.’ But something told her…that today was going to be different…

The security guard at Darlton and Gracefields noticed something different about Susan as she pushed open the oak paneled doors and glided past him, something that he couldn’t put her finger on at first. She looked the same, the same charcoal suit, although the pencil skirt did look considerably shorter. Her hair and make-up, as tidy as usual…no it was something else. She just seemed happier somehow. Then the penny dropped, “Christ, she’s smiling, Miss high and bleeding mighty …actually smiled at me!”

“Morning Miss Hargate…beautiful day,” remarked Jack the liftman. “You’re looking particularly radiant this morning, if I may say so.”

“Why thank you Jack. You look rather dashing yourself.”

“ Still no chance of you and me hitting it off? You know go and eat dinner then back to my place for a bit of how’s your father?”

“And what would your granddaughter think of that…how old is she now eighteen?”

“Nineteen next week.” He replied. “Makes you feel old dunnit miss?”

Susan smiled at his remark. Jack was the only other English person employed at Darlton and Gracefields. He should have retired years ago, but after the death of his wife, and now that his granddaughter was no longer dependant on him, had found himself working here to help supplement his pension. Susan suspected that it was more for the company, than the money. Jack had been the first person to welcome her here when she had started working for the firm. Although from the same country, Jack was born in the Eastend of London, and could lay claim to being born within the sound of Bow Bells, making him a true Cockney.

“Here we are Miss, and if you change your mind about having a good old knees up, then you just give old Jack here the wink.”

Susan blew him a kiss, as she turned towards her office.

Apart from the stir she had caused upon her arrival. No one else seemed to notice the change in her. She sat for the remainder of the morning, behind her desk, relatively undisturbed and went through the never-ending paperwork, which seemed to have piled up during her absence. It was around eleven thirty, that Jackie announced over the desk intercom, that someone was here to see her.

“Who is it? Tell them to go away…I’m busy,” she replied.

“It’s a Mr. Trier…Elliot Trier, says he needs to speak with you urgently.”

Susan’s heart leapt to her throat at the mention of his name. She could feel the panic starting to set in, as she wondered what on earth could have made him come here…now…at this hour.

“Show him in please Jackie,” she replied, keeping the slight wavering out of her voice, her professional instincts taking control, “and please ensure we’re not disturbed.”

She could feel her demeanor melting away, like the wicked witch of the north after Dorothy had thrown the pail of water. Shakily she rose to her feet, as the door swung open, the beads of perspiration building at her temples, the little voice in her head telling her everything was fine. The dampness in her groin hoping it wasn’t. ‘Surely’ she thought, ‘Not here…not now’ and then he stood before her, his dark eyes afire, hand extended.

“Hello Miss Hargate…I’m Elliot Trier.”…

 

[dr_mabeuse]

She waited silently as her secretary exited, leaving the two of them alone. Elliot’s polite smile never wavered, nor did the mischievous fire in his eyes.

“Elliot! What are you doing here?” she asked in a furious whisper.

“I probably should have told you: I drop by here often. I know Burton,”—that would be Burton Gracefield, one of the firm’s founders—“and used to do quite a bit of business with him. In fact, that’s how you came to my attention, my dear.”

As he said this, he turned around and flicked the lock on the door. He turned to her and smiled: a predatory smile.

Susan was flustered. Having him in her office made her feel strangely exposed, as if she’d come to work naked.

“I just dropped in to see how you were doing,” he said. “I have a feeling that you slip back into your old persona too easily once you get out of my sight. I just wanted to come back and remind you of who you are now. Open your blouse.”

“Elliot! Really!”

“Open it,” he said calmly. “No one will come in. Not when you’re with such an important client.”

“I can’t. Really. That’s just too much. Not here.”

“Stand up,” he said, and this time she obeyed without thinking about it. His voice was so commanding. Her heart was pounding and she felt herself blush, but she did what he said.

He stepped over to her and unbuttoned her jacket. Her blouse was a little more snug than was proper for office wear, but she knew she would have her jacket over it. Now, with her jacket open, the lush globes of her breasts strained the fabric. Elliot looked her straight in the eye and unbuttoned her blouse.

“I don’t like it when you disobey me, Susan,” he said. “I’ll let it go this time, because you’re still new at this, but when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. Immediately. Regardless of what it is. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said weakly.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. All her coworkers were right outside; she could hear their familiar voices. She was sure there’d be a knock on the door at any moment and then what would she do?

“Sit,” he said, and Susan sat back down in to her desk chair. Elliot stepped closer and boldly slipped his hand inside her bra, cupping her breast. he kneaded it, letting his fingers slide along it’s firm softness till her found her nipple, on which he played with a teasing finger. Despite her horror, his touch on her tender nipple made her choke back a moan.

“You see how much better you feel in your new things?” he asked her. “Don’t you feel more womanly? You feel that way to me.” He played with her breast for a while longer, until he felt the nipple grow stiff and turgid, then he said. “Hike your skirt up.”

“Elliot, please…”

He paused with his fingers on her nipple, poised to squeeze, and she remembered what he’d said about obeying him immediately. She lifted her hips off the chair and worked her skirt and slip up over her thighs , revealing the tops of her stockings, her garters and her new panties.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now give me your hand.”

He took her hand and placed it on his cock, which was already semi-erect behind his trousers.

“You’re going to suck my cock, Susan,” he said. “You’re going to take my prick in your sweet cock-sucking mouth and suck me till I come, right here in your office. And maybe you should play with yourself while you do. Won’t that be fun?”

 

[Cherrie]

She looked up into his face, her eyes pleading, knowing that any plea would be futile, and saw the wild fervor in his eyes, felt the slight throb from his growing erection as it expanded, beneath the tight confines of his trousers…a captive of its own making.

“Do it Susan…suck it like the good slut you are.”

Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, in order to reassure herself that he had locked the outer door correctly, she sheepishly fumbled with the buttons on his flies, her trembling fingers making the task that much more difficult. She could feel her pulse quickening, as each button popped open, bringing her ever closer to the reward, which they contained. A sense of urgency overtook her, his lust becoming contagious as she reached inside and gripped the thick shaft between her fingers. She heard a soft moan escape from his lips as it sprang free, only inches away from her face: A quick reminder of her own hunger, her own desires. She bent forwards in the chair; her lips wet with anticipation…and claimed her prize.

He stood there motionless; his hands cupping each of her breasts, feeling her tender nipples harden as they poked themselves through his fingers. It was just as he imagined it would be. He knew that she would be receptive, an apt pupil, ready…and willing to carry out his bidding. Of her eagerness he had no doubts, already he could smell the musky aroma filling his nostrils, from the dampness that was building between her legs. Not an unpleasant aroma by any means, he thought, it was the scent of Woman…a woman full of desire.

Susan gently cupped his testicles in her hand, surprised at their fragility. The skin was soft, much like a babies skin. She felt them contract, sensitive to her touch. A stark contrast to the hardness, that throbbed upon her eager tongue. Her lips smoothly rubbed along his shaft, her teeth gently grating against the head, as she removed it from her mouth. Her eyes sought his, as she tilted her head slightly and took his balls into her mouth, her tongue savoring their softness, her free hand holding and sweetly brushing his cock against her soft cheek.

He moaned again, only this time more loudly, an indication that he was enjoying her administrations. She could feel his urgency increasing, see the lust filled glow in his eyes as he looked down upon her face: Her hand working back and forth in slow rhythmic strokes along his cock, caressing the delicate head with her cheek. She placed it into her mouth once again, tasting the pre cum, secure in the knowledge that he was reaching fulfillment.

He lifted his hand, grabbing a handful of her hair, and pulled her head closer, his cock penetrating deeper into her throat. She tried to struggle, to pull herself away, as the hot cum hit her tonsils, making her gag. Greedily she swallowed, her mouth over filling with the hot salty liquid, causing some to leak past her lips and form in droplets upon her chin. It no longer mattered that she couldn’t breathe, she was past caring…she wanted it all…to suck his very soul inside to join with hers. Her hands wrapped themselves firmly around his buttocks, pulling him closer…holding him tightly as he struggled like a trapped animal, whilst she drank her fill.

She watched, her eyes never leaving his, as his whole body shook, his legs trembled, causing him to let go of her hair and grip the edge of the desk for support, her lips still clinging onto his cock, as it entered the last throes of ejaculation. Her tongue teased the hole at its end, the sensitivity causing him to shudder once again.

He reached down cupping her chin, smearing the remnants of cum that had accumulated there onto his fingers, and then offered them up to her lips. Like a vampire, eager for more blood, she released his cock only to suck greedily at his proffered fingers.

“You’re a good little slut,” he praised, “lick them dry Susan…lick them like the greedy little cum slut you are.”

She felt herself blush at his terminology, knowing how true his words were, and found it excited her. No aphrodisiac in the world could compare to what his vile dirty words and name-calling could do to her. If he wanted her as his ‘cum slut’…then that is what she was willing to become, she was his to command.

“Now it is your turn Susan,” he smirked, pulling up the chair from the front of her desk: seating himself so that he was facing her. “Remember what I asked you? No…correct that, remember what I told you to do?”

She looked at him puzzled, not sure what he was referring to.

“I told you to play with yourself. I want you to masturbate here and now in front of me…finger fuck yourself for my pleasure, and I’m sure yours too. Go on Susan, climb up here on the desk where I can see it all.”

She felt a sharp stab of pain, as her teeth bit into her bottom lip. The thought of doing what he had just asked her to do, excited her…excited her beyond her wildest dreams, but it also shamed her to the core. Her acute embarrassment, causing her to just sit there and stare down at the floor, her mind wrestling with what she would like to do, and what she knew she shouldn’t. Shakily, she rose to her feet and positioned herself on the edge of the mahogany desk facing him, her skirt still hitched up past her waist.

“Open your legs for me Susan,” he commanded sternly.

Fighting back her nervousness, at having to expose herself to his glare, she slowly parted her legs, watching his face as the lust emanating from his dark foreboding eyes burnt into her. She could feel them smoldering on her skin as they climbed their way upwards along her nylon clad legs, pausing briefly as they reached the top of her stockings, and then coming to rest on the thin translucent lace that ran between the lips of her swollen labia. Her heart banged heavily within her chest, beating itself to a crescendo, as she reached down and touched herself.

Her shame melted away, only to be replaced by a wanton desire…a desire to please him…to excite him as he had her. She felt the dampness, the sticky secretions of her lust, oozing their way to the surface as her fingers gently rubbed at the flimsy material, her other hand joining it’s partner in order to pull back the thin covering that hid what was now his. A soft moan escaped from her lips, as she saw his look of approval. She felt disgust at herself for succumbing to his demands so easily, felt like a hooker putting on a show for one of her Johns, but the thrill, the excitement that she felt soon dispelled all that. All that really mattered now was quenching the fire that burned deep within her.

He watched her, the room silent apart from the purring sound that she emitted whilst playing with her little bud. Her fingers growing in ever decreasing circles, rubbing, teasing… building herself up to climax. He felt his own hardness returning, as he watched her at play, his hunger to possess her…to give her the fucking; he knew she so desperately needed, rising in his loins. Like a lion at the moment of a kill, he was upon her, dragging her off the desk and into his arms.

The movement was so quick…so sudden, that it caught her by surprise. In one swift movement he bent her over the desk, gripped the thin elastic of her panties and wrenched them off her body. She winced as he grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her head down into the blotter on the desk and holding it there. Before she could respond, she felt the wind driven out of her body as he entered her savagely. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk for support, her bottom rising high into the air in order to meet each vicious thrust. His balls, slapped hard against her clitoris, whilst his free hand kneaded her aching breast, and all the time those words…those filthy degrading names that he whispered in her ear.

“Yes…oh yes…please Elliot!” she found herself moaning, “Fuck me…hurt me, treat me like the slut you want me to be.”

Her cries rallied him on, spurring him into an animal frenzy. Each thrust being harder, crueler than the last, until he felt her stiffen, her legs trembling, her whole body writhing and shaking violently beneath him. She threw her head back against the pressure of his hand, and let out a soft moan. He felt the entrance of her pussy grow tighter, causing her juices to flow freely down her outstretched legs.

Her orgasm was sudden, and far more intense than she had ever experienced before. It was with a feeling of exhilaration that she realized that this was the first time…she had ever been taken so forcefully, and with so much passion. The walls of her battered cunt pulsated, making her come again as she felt his cock, still rock hard, withdraw from her. His fingers released her hair, enabling her to look over her shoulder, and what she saw filled her with dread. Elliot was looking down, staring at her bottom, his hands pulling the cheeks apart, and a salacious smile on his lips.

She knew then, that he hadn’t finished with her… that she was about to experience something she had only read about in top shelf magazines. She let out a short gasp, as she watched him tightly grip the thick shaft of his slippery cock, and offer it up to the entrance of her anal passage

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“Elliot! Please! Not here! Not like this!”

But he seemed oblivious. She could feel his eyes boring into her like two laser beams as he stood behind her, but what could she do? She couldn’t scream; she couldn’t refuse him. She didn’t dare risk a scene here at her office.

“Where’s your hand cream?” he asked. “There’s always some hand cream around.”

Before she could answer him he pulled her upper right hand drawer open and found the big jar of aloe-vera. She watched him scoop some up in his hand and then she felt the coldness on her defenseless bottom. He worked it around her anus, going so far as to dip his finger inside and making her gasp with shame and shock. When she was good and greasy he began to run his finger slowly in and out of her.

Susan had never felt so ashamed, not even when she’d been forced to masturbate in front of him, and what made it seem so much worse was the sound of her co-workers going about their business on the other side of her door which she hadn’t noticed before. She could hear the phones ringing, the voices of people she knew, while in here there was only the thick, viscous sounds of Elliot’s fingers—he now had two of them inside her—as he worked the cream around in her rectum.

“Elliot, no, really. I need time.” she gasped, even as lewd thrills coursed up and down her spine. She heard the jingle of his belt buckle as he dropped his pnats around his ankles. “I can’t just do this like this. I…Oh my god! Oh God!”

She grabbed onto the edge of the desk and bit down on her lower lip as she felt the smooth head of his prick nudging at her bottom. He took her buttocks in his hands, pinched them hard and pulled them apart, and she heard his breath, hot and fast as he pushed the thick head of his cock against her. She tried to loosen up, tried to relax, but she didn’t know how, and she felt the head of his cock grinding around in the tigh ring of her anus, looking for a way in. Meanwhile he pressed against her with all the strength in his body. His cock was like a steel bar; it would not be denied. Susan whimpered and tried to spread her legs for him. He shifted his stance, pulled hard on her cheeks, and Susan stifled a cry as she felt the head of his cock pop inside her rectum.

“Unnnh! Ohhhh!” She bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out. She felt unbelievably stuffed, almost as if she would burst, but at the same time there was already a lewd preview of what was to come. There was a sweet, cloying pleasure back there in her most secret spot, a thrill so forbidden and illicit it made her head spin.

He left it there long enough for her to adapt, for the initial pain of her brutal stretching to subside. When he pressed forward again, she was only aware of the feel of him sliding over the exquisitely sensitive nerves there, sliding up into her defenseless body. He let go of her buttocks and leaned forward, capturing her wrists and pinning her down to the desk. She felt totally helpless, completely at his mercy, and she took a strange comfort from the fact that there was nothing she could do to stop him. He was completely beyond her control. He bored into her until she was absolutely filled with him and her buttocks were flattened against the hard muscles of his stomach.

Then he began to fuck her.

“That’s my little whore,” he said. “That’s my good little slut. It feels good now, doesn’t it? You like having my cock up your ass, don’t you Susan? You hot little bitch! You make me so fucking hot for you. You’re going to finish your day with a belly full of my come, your master’s come. That’s just what you want, isn’t it, slave?”

“Oh God no,” she groaned. “I mean, yes, yes! That’s just what I want. Please, please give it to me, master!”

He laughed at her mistake, but his laughter turned into a groan of sheer sexual pleasure as he began to fuck the tightness of her virginal ass with short, vicious little lunges. Each movement was exaggerated by the hypersensitivity of her rectum so that he felt like he was sucking her very insides out, then stuffing them back in. Susan pressed her breasts down against the desk and concentrated on this wickedly arousing sensation, so terribly obscene and perverse, and so astonishingly exciting. She felt totally used, conquered and possessed, and the pressure of his cock in her ass seemed to melt into the sweet ache in her cunt. She could feel his heavy balls resting against her slit and slapping softly against her as he fucked her and took control of her once more.

His hands were like steel bands on her wrists, and his weight pressed her down against the unyielding desk. She could feel the hairs on his legs tickling the backs of her thighs, the hardness of his stomach against her soft cheeks. Her clothes were a mess, her skirt thrown up over her ass, her top tangled beneath her. He let go of one of her wrists and she felt his hand digging at her empty pussy, his fingers dipping inside, then finding her clit and taking it between his greasy fingers.

“My little slut is going to come now.” He said, panting with the effort of driving his cock into the tight clench of her rectum. “She’s going to come like a whore from having my big cock in her ass, isn’t she? But she’s not going to make a sound. She’s not going to make a sound because she doesn’t want all her friends to hear what a hot little ass she has, what a hungry little cum slut she is. But she loves it, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she, Susan? Getting your ass fucked right over your desk at work. You love it, don’t you?”

“Oh God yes!” she moaned, and she wasn’t lying any longer. His words, the way he moved, the way he flexed his hard cock inside her, made her dizzy with lust. His fingers moved in her pussy with the same rhythm that his prick moved in her ass, sliding over her clit, teasing her entrance, almost lifting her feet off the ground with the force of his fucking. She felt her hot shameful pleasure spiraling up inside her, building into a terrible wall of sensation that threatened to topple over on her at any second.

Suddenly he removed his hand and spanked her hard, the sound of his hand on her ass like a pistol shot in the room. The thought that he would do this to her, take such control of her that he would spank her even as he had his big cock rammed up her ass was just too much for Susan. He spanked her again and she felt her ass quiver helplessly under his hand. The wall of sensation started to topple, started to crash down on top of her. She bit her hand to keep from screaming just as she felt him expand and felt his cock begin to spit its load of hot semen into her secret depths, heard him moaning and snarling with wild animal pleasure as he took his release in the soft depths of her rectum, shooting into her, filling her.

“Oh God, Oh God…” she moaned as the room swam back into focus. Slowly it all came back: the sounds of the telephones outside, the voices, the feel of him pulling his deflating cock from her with a wet popping sound.

He stood up, pulled some tissues from the holder on her desk and cleaned himself up, then casually threw the wad of paper into her trash can. Susan raised herself up on her elbows and looked around blearily. Her ass hurt, but already she could feel the balm of his ejaculate beginning to seep out of her. She had come. She had come like a tornado; there was no denying the fact. How would she ever face him now?

“There’s been a change of schedule for tonight,” he said calmly. “I want to see how you act in public--your social side—so I’ve made reservations for dinner at a very nice restaurant. I’ll pick you up at 7:30, so be ready. Dress nicely. Leave your panties at home, however. You won’t be needing them.”