WORKING GIRL

By Argus

Copyright resides with author
Sample chapter from bdsmbooks.com

It was inevitable that he would escalate their dangerous games at work. Sam tried to resist, but she felt lost and out of control around him, especially whenever anything connected to sex came up.

Which was why, ignoring what she knew to be the sensible, sane response to his idiotic ideas, she found herself in a meeting room he had booked secretly, stripping down to a merry widows outfit of white lace stockings, garter belt, G-string, heels and bustier, swinging her hips to the music coming off a small radio he had brought into the room with him.

It was the fanciest board room, and the largest, the walls lined with oak and pictures, the table long, wide and gleaming in the carefully arranged lights from above. He sat at the end of the table, slouched, rather, smirking, as Samantha danced and stripped down. Then she crawled across the floor, cat-like, knelt between his legs, and unzipped him.

Over the next several minutes, as people passed to and fro in the hall right outside the two doors, she bobbed up and down on his thick cock. Then she stood up, straddling him and the chair, and sank down onto it, riding up and down breathlessly as he sucked on her nipples and kneaded her buttocks.

A few days later he persuaded her to follow him into her boss’s office while he was at a meeting, locked the door, and then bent her over the desk, taking her from behind.

Then it was the bathroom, the large, handicapped bathroom located in the main hall by the elevators. He had her strip completely, then took her bent over the sink, right next to the door, while they listened to the conversations of a pair of managers gathered by the elevators. He had her kneel and blow him, then had her ride him as he sat on the toilet before taking her on all fours.

In a stairwell, a supply room, and the underground garage, he took her hard and fast, leaving her gasping breathlessly.

Then came the worst silly game of all. During afternoon break he got her alone in the handicapped bathroom, inserted a thick butt-plug into her anus, and a big vibrator into her pussy. This vibrator was a bit different than the usual. It had a small round piece attached which curved up across her clitoris, and the entire thing was radio controlled.

There was a meeting right after, a large meeting with two dozen attendees, including both of them. She sat at one end, near her boss, while he was well down the table. She was, of course, frightfully anxious, though he had already proven no one would be able to hear the vibrations.

When he turned it on, though, she almost jumped out of her skin. Her eyes flitted back and forth around her, but no one was paying any attention. Reassured, she tried to ignore the buzzing vibrations.

And failed.

Oh, once she would have been able to. But her mind, when it came to sex, was no longer her own. It was easy prey for anything he did to her, and this was nothing different. The excitement and wickedness of having a vibrator inside her buzzing away during a business meeting caught something in her mind and she found herself squirming in her seat.

Fire ran up through her belly and along her spine. Her nipples became two rock hard pebbles which began to fairly glow with the intensity of the heat and tingling excitement within. Her pussy became sopping wet around the buzzing sex toy, and her entire body began to pulse with hunger and passion.

It was sheer hell trying to not react, to show nothing while he grinned at her from up the table. All around her were the bland faces of their colleagues, completely oblivious to what was happening while they discussed internal communications procedures.

The pleasure continued to grow, to the point felt a sudden prickling sensation of alarm, realizing that it might drive her into actual orgasm – right here – in front of everyone. That was sufficiently frightening it helped push back the swirling sexual heat and hunger for a time, but only for a time.

When it seemed that she was going to lose it, fighting to control her breathing, her forehead moist with perspiration, he turned it off.

She felt a wave of relief, but it was premature. The meeting went on for two hours. He kept turning it on again. Each time he did he brought her closer and closer to the edge, and each time he turned it off it took longer for her body’s hunger to ease.

“Are you all right, Sam?” her boss asked, frowning at her in concern.

She stared at him, then shook herself visibly. “Oh! Oh yes, I uhm, I’m fine, Ralph,” she gulped.

“You don’t look well.”

“I-I’m fine,” she said breathlessly.

She ground her bottom into the chair and the tip of the vibrator ground against the back wall of her pussy.

            The meeting seemed to go on forever. She was sweating heavily by the time it ended, and almost desperate for relief. Most everyone else packed up and got ready to go home, but with a smirk, David ordered her to stay later. Part of her felt like hitting him, but another part of her knew that meant he would take her here – at work, and so she wouldn’t have to wait for the drive home.

            The vibrator clicked on again, from time to time, while she made a pretense of working at her desk. Most everyone was gone within minutes but a few, including her boss, stayed on for almost half an hour before departing.

            Still he kept her at her desk “working” but accomplishing little or nothing.

            It was summer and a sunny Friday. As with most other government offices it had been half empty most of the afternoon. What was left cleared out rapidly. David did a walkabout to make sure there was no one still around on their floor. That did not, of course, remove the danger. Someone could come back, having forgotten something. Or someone from another floor could come down for some reason. Unlikely but possible.

            “Strip. Naked,” he said, leaning over her cubicle.

            “David!” she moaned anxiously, staring at him beseechingly.

“Naked. Now.”

            Her breathing quickening, pulse racing, Sam obeyed, fighting herself even as she did. Her nipples were so hard and sensitive they hard they hurt. Removing her blazer, her shirt, and her bra made them throb even more excitedly.

            He put a collar on her, then attached a leash.

            “Come,” he ordered, tugging on it. “Come, slut.”

            He chuckled. Come slut.”

            “David!” she gasped.

            He had her on all fours, and clipped the weights to her nipples again, then another one to her clit itself. She squirmed and writhed and moaned, and he had to actually hold her wrists to keep her from snatching it off at first. In a hot, stifling sexual haze, she crawled down the hall at the end of the leash, gasping as the weighted balls swung and tugged at her aching nipples and clit, the vibrator purring against her, the butt-plug filling her to overflowing.

            He had her crawl up and down the familiar corridors among the cubicles she worked all day, then gagged her because, he said, when she came he didn’t want her bringing up the security guards from downstairs.

            Sweating and physically trembling, he led her out into the main hall, off the carpeting and onto the hard tiles in front of the elevators.

            “Stop,” he ordered.

            He reached down and unclipped the weights from her nipples, then her clit. She gasped and winced at the sudden hot pain, clenching her teeth against the ball gag filling her mouth.

“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to lay your chest down on the floor and spread your arms out to either side. Keep your bottom raised high and shift your knees apart. I’m going to fuck you, my little slut, and make you come like the whore you are.”

            Sam obeyed, gasping weakly, wincing a little as her swollen breasts pressed against the cold tiles. She could feel the grit of the floor against her breasts, against her exquisitely sensitive nipples as her breasts pillowed out. She grunted as she tilted her head back, her chin against the floor, and spread her arms out.

            She felt him behind her, felt his hands on her buttocks, on her thighs, spreading her wider. His fingers slid down and ground the vibrator into her and she groaned helplessly.

            “Fuck me! Fuck me!” she moaned into the gag, her words muffled and unintelligible.

            She felt his hands on the butt-plug, felt it drawn out. She shuddered in pleasure as her sphincter widened around the fat nose of the thing, and it pulled free.

            And then something else pushed into her, something long, hard, and warm. He had been quite patient with her about it, and had seemingly contented himself with pushing various toys into her bottom. But he had never hidden the fact he intended to one day sodomised her.

            And now, her dazed mind realized, he was doing just that.

            She was too aroused, too hot, too frazzled to feel any kind of shame or disgust. She felt a low sense of anxiety that it would hurt, but it didn’t really. He slid into her easily, then drew back and pushed in deeper. It ached a little bit, but her muscles were spasming, and when he seized her hips and began to thrust all she could do was gurgle in rising pleasure.

            It just seemed so – right, to feel his hips smacking against her upraised buttocks, to feel his big cock pushing into her body, pushing in deeper and deeper, plunging in and pulling back again and again and again as she moaned and gurgled and lurched to the impact of his hips against her buttocks.

            The orgasm rode over her mind and body like a wildfire, and she writhed and jerked and bucked to the hot, steaming strength of its sensual storm as he pounded his cock into her harder and harder. He was right to gag her, she realized, for she would have screamed – and could scream. And then she did, feeling the strange sense of freedom the gag brought, not having to hide her reaction, her responses at all.

            She screamed as the orgasm screamed within her. Her nervous system overloaded,  the strength and intensity of the orgasm clawing at her mind. It rolled her mind over and over, then left her, gasping, dazed, shell-shocked, limp, drooling around the gag, eyes slitted.

            His fingers held her hips strongly, keeping her bottom aloft as he continued to thrust into her, and she grunted weakly to every deep stroke. But unlike other orgasms her body was not entirely sated, and in an amazingly short time she was gasping and whimpering and moaning to the swirling hunger and passion again. Another orgasm rolled through her less than a minute after the first, then another and another after that, each of them draining her of energy and sapping her mind of anything approaching higher thought.

            In the end she was little more than a grunting, gurgling sexual animal as his hips continued to pound against her and his cock reamed out her anus. She ground her breasts and in particular her nipples against the floor, and her pussy squeezed and sucked on the purring vibrator until the final orgasm robbed her of consciousness itself and left her limp on the floor.

            He wakened her, of course, and helped her dress, then took her home. And if she stumbled a little, anyone watching would have simply though thought her tired.

            She did not, however, go home to rest. An hour later she was in his basement hanging by her wrists, gagged again, moaning weakly. She had two big dildos stuffed into her pussy and anus, both protruding a full two inches. There was no chance they would fall out, however. Not only was she very tight around them but her ankles and thighs were strapped together below her just as her wrists were above her.

            He had gotten creative, and doused the lights. Instead, eight or nine candles on waist high holders circled her as she hung there, throwing shadows on the dark stone walls.

            Her arms and shoulders ached, and her wrists hurt somewhat, but excitement made it easily bearable. He left her alone to hang there, and she let herself be immersed in the fantasy of it as she stared down the length of her body at the floor below, as she felt the pressure of the straps around her wrists, of the dildo squeezed between her buttocks, and the other against her sex lips.

            She let her head come up and back slowly, groaning into the gag. This was all so sick and twisted and kinky and nasty and – and darkly exciting. How had she, sensible Sam, ever come to let herself be involved in such absurdly kinky games? What would the people at work think if they had the slightest idea of the kinds of things she let herself get up to on her off hours? She had worked so hard to portray herself as a level-headed, assertive and independent woman.

            And here she was hanging naked with dildos stuffed up inside her.

            It was almost a relief when he finally came down again. Her breathing had quickened and grown ragged over time, and a sheen of perspiration covered her body. It was quite – difficult – to hang by your wrists for any length of time, she had discovered.

            But the sexual hunger had never left her, and so long had she hung there it had now seeped into her very bones. She moaned as he produced the flog and called her his whore. He unstrapped her ankles, then her thighs.

            “I want to see you kick,” he said teasingly.

            And then he brought the flog down across her back.

            It hurt, but not very much, just enough to get a reaction from her. She twisted and writhed and moaned, her mind flaming at the wickedness of it as he brought the flog in again, and again, and again.

            “Spread your legs apart, slut,” he ordered.

            That was difficult to do, but the breathless blonde complied, opening her legs in mid-air. He swung the flog from in close, and the thin leather laces slid across her hip and then down along her lower abdomen to slash at her sex.

            She squealed into the gag, body thrashing and kicking as he laughed at her. Then he moved around in front and lashed her breasts. Her eyes widened in shock, and she tried to yell a plea into the gag – to no avail, of course. He began to flog her breasts. And as before, the laces were light and not terribly painful. But her skin was exceedingly tender, and soon began to warm and sting.

            “Spread your legs, slut,” he ordered.

            She moaned and wouldn’t, and he flogged her breasts – harder, so they stung. She yelped and opened her legs and he flogged her there, but not so hard, not so stingingly.

            He moved around her, flogging her back and buttocks, her breasts and groin, making them all feel hot and raw and tingling and sore as she became more and more exhausted and her wrists started to become numb.

            Then he attached chains to her ankles restraints and pulled them up and out to either side. He spread her wide there, in mid-air, and at first that made her feel much more comfortable. It took a lot of weight off her wrists and arms and shoulders. And by working the muscles in her lower legs a little she could take off even more weight.

            At first.

            But as he left here there – after first running a vibrator back and forth across her clit and drawing her to the brink of orgasm – her legs were already spread to the limit. As time ticked away she found the muscles in her legs which was holding her up against the pull on her wrists began to fail. Her legs, after all, were spread quite wide, and she had no proper leverage.

            As her muscles failed her legs simply hung there, spread wide, ankle restraints hooked up and out to either side. It was an obscene and now uncomfortable pose, for relaxing her muscles had spread her legs even wider, stretching and straining the tendons in her thighs.

            After a time he returned, and knelt before her to lick her to a tremendous orgasm. That orgasm had her writhing and twisting and jerking in uncontrollable paroxysms of pleasure. And her legs spread even further apart. He lifted the chains on them a little more, and left her once again.

            Twice more he returned to check on her, licking her to orgasms, then lifting the chains an inch or two, and leaving her again.

            She was soaked in perspiration by the time he returned, and drooling around the ball gag, down onto her chest. Her eyes were glazed, and she was exhausted. He flogged her back and breasts, then flogged her between the legs. Then he pulled the dildo out of her bottom, gripped her thighs, now almost spread straight out to either sides, pulled her lower body back towards him, and then thrust his cock up into her anus.

            He sodomised her hard and fast like that, driving her to another orgasm before spilling himself inside her.

            She was hardly able to walk the rest of that weekend, but he had her crawling most of the time anyway. Leashed, collared, posing herself obscenely for pictures, masturbating for videos, and saying the most disgusting and outrageous things as he taped her stripping, masturbating and sucking his cock.

            He pulled her over his lap several times to spank her and finger her to orgasms, and she spent the entire weekend naked, with restraints around her wrist and ankles and a collar around her throat. She even slept beside him with her wrists locked together behind her and her collar chained to the bedpost.

            She felt as though she were living a wild erotic dream, and while some of it was kinkier and darker than she would have ever considered doing before, she was more than willing to go along with Dave and his own dark fantasies. She had no shame in front of him, after all. Not any more.

            It felt quite odd, however, to be chatting with her mother on the phone while wearing a collar, wrist and ankle restraints, and nothing else. He insisted she stay naked, with a butt-plug up her backside so he could sodomised her at will. And she had complied. He had even attached clips to her nipples which reached, by thin chains, to the ring in the center of her collar. That meant that as she moved, as her breasts moved, her nipples pulled against the clips with sharp little tugs and pulls.

            It all kept her in a low boil the entire weekend, and ready to be churned into orgasm with very little effort on his part.

            That was how he pierced her nipples. She was standing, arms and legs locked apart, gagged, moaning, stuffed with dildos as he licked her and taunted her with a vibrator, going out of her mind with sexual heat and hunger.

            And then, abruptly, he was rubbing her aching nipples with a cool liquid which smelled of alcohol, and putting on plastic gloves.

            “Time to torture you again, my slut,” he said.

            She moaned into the gag, staring, then gasping as she saw him rip open the package with the needle in it. Surely he wasn’t going to – surely he was just pretending – surely he wouldn’t – .

            Her nipples already had clips on them. He gripped one and pulled, stretching her nipple out, then plunged the needle into it. There was a sharp pain and she yelped and tried to twist back, but couldn’t. She was in shock. He had really done it! She stared, dumbfounded, as he placed a ring into her nipple. Then he gripped the other nipple and now she started to try to protest, but he was so quick that the needle was again plunging through her nipple before she could make her wishes known.