Success and Stress

The next morning was Friday. Westin's digital alarm clock started complaining at him at exactly five fifteen. Hoping not to disturb Christine he turned it off as the second beep was sounding. Groggily he crawled out of the bed and staggered to the shower. They had celebrated her moving in last night, and he had only gotten about three hours sleep.

Hot water and soap put enough perk in his eyelids for him to begin his daily routine, but he knew coffee would be required. Wrapping one of his large blue towels around his waist he went down stairs to start the pot. On his way back up he stopped by the den and picked up a pen and legal pad. Once back in the bedroom he began to write.

“Christine, I have gone to the office early. Here are the keys to the BWM go ahead and use my spot. I will leave the coffee pot on, but turn it off before you leave. When you get to work tell your boss that you are giving him two weeks notice. Do not accept any desires by him for you to stay longer.”

He lightly tapped the pen on the pad in thought. She still had the two clean work outfits at the house, and all of her other things were still in the entryway, or the trunk of the BWM.

“Wear blue today. One of the new bras, lace, either pink or blue. NO underwear. No hosiery. Heels. Not flats. Minimal makeup. Lunch is your time. Take the car. Keep your cell phone charged. I will call you close of business when I am ready to leave the office. You will meet me at the car no less than ten minutes after I call. Have a good morning.”

He then signed the note “Sir Westin”, placed it on the fainting couch along with his key chain, and went about putting on his suit. When he was done straightening his tie he opened the little drawer in the nightstand and picked up a small key. Then he reached under the sheets to where Christine was sleeping soundly and unlocked her wrists and ankles so she would be able to move when she woke. He was fascinated by her ability to sleep bound, and she once told him that she actually slept better restrained. Westin finally placed the middle and index fingers of his right hand to his lips, and touched them briefly to her forehead before walking downstairs to call an executive shuttle.

Christine woke suddenly when her cell phone began to ring. She quickly darted across the room to where it was charging on the fainting couch and picked it up as the call ended. Frantically she dug through the menus to find recent calls. He had called her from his office. The fact she was not restrained suddenly dawned on her, and she rubbed the surface of her new collar fondly. Glancing around she saw the small locks sitting neatly on his nightstand.

She glanced back at the phone to catch the time. Seven thirty. He had woken her just in time to get ready and go to the office. That's when she saw the note. She sat heavily on the couch and clutched it to her chest and began to read intensely absently playing with one of the D-rings on her collar.

Soon she was zooming through her morning, showering, pampering, and dressing. She had a slight smile when she went to the back of his closet where her outfits were stored. He had only two choice since her other clothing was downstairs; the flowing gray pleated skirt, and white dress shirt with it's large brassy buttons, or the much shorter dark blue skirt, and matching silk button up. She pulled the outfit into the dressing area off the bathroom, and went downstairs for one of the new bras. She quickly decided on a hot pink bra, she thought the contrast would impress him, and the dark shade of the shirt would conceal it nicely. Donning it she admired how her breasts now heaved in the demi cups her pale skin showing through the pink lace. Then she stepped into the skirt zipped it up the side, and then put her arms into the shirt and began buttoning it up.

After a quick bite to eat she decided it was time to get to the office. She took a long wayward glance at the coffee pot. The little red light that indicated it was turned on, as still glowing. Longingly she ran a hand across the back of her skirt and over her bottom. It had been a while since he had thrashed her good, and longer still since he had left marks. With a slight smirk she went to the front door. The light was still glowing when she kissed her cuffs and collar and left them sitting on the floor.

She slipped the BMW into Westin's personal spot in the underground garage at eight fifty, and had to spend almost a minute smoothing the skirt back down her bare ass as she got out. On her way into the office she reveled in the thirty-foot walk to the corporate elevators. When she drove her car it was parked at a sub lot and then a corporate shuttle, which ran past, every ten minutes would pick you up and drop you at the front door of the office. She arrived at her desk at eight fifty nine exactly. From that point forward, work went seamlessly. Mr. Rivisi was neither, relieved or sad to hear that she was leaving. He merely noted her final day on his calendar and dismissed her from his office. She then began the process of finalizing or transferring all of her open accounts. Christine would not be getting any new work. Both Mr. Rivisi not giving her any referrals, and herself not making any calls would ensure it.

At eleven thirty she let for lunch. She left the office and instead of heading for food went instead to a jeweler that Westin had told her could do excellent work. He had even given her his personal account there, as he purchased all his watches and other jewelry from them.

The store was obviously high end. Not exclusive, but clearly pricing eliminated the riff raff. It was single story, set in a small shopping center with a few women's apparel stores all of which she knew to also cater to more expensive clientele. She had been in the door only a moment when a wispy, obviously homosexual attendant greeted her.

“Welcome to Bernard's, my name is Jules. How can I help you?”

If the man had possessed more flame he would have ignited.

“I need a choker for formal wear. Something in emeralds.”

She was hesitant this would be very expensive. Westin was about to drop a large amount of money sight unseen, on a relationship that started only three weeks ago. With a deep breath she persevered firm in their trust. Jules picked up the hesitation and began the “screening” process.

“I see, and do you have an account with us? Ms…”

She would not be turned down. Not with a task she wished to do for Westin.

“March, my name in Christine March. My account is Banks; five oh two oh three one three.”

Westin had asked her to memorize the account and she had done well. Jules typed the numbers in and returned with a pleased look.

“Excellent Ms March. Would we be interested in seeing some stock, or are we thinking of designing an original?”

She desperately wanted to see what the store had to offer, and made a choice to ensure that she would.

“I think I'll see the stock to give me ideas for an original.”

“Of course.”

Jules bowed slightly and pulled a chair in front of a small table to the side. He indicated that she should sit, and the n hurried off to get the stock for her to peruse.

The entire process took the full hour of her lunch and an extra fifteen minutes to complete. She decided to have a platinum choker made with ten square cut emeralds set horizontally into the front stacked two high, in five platinum boxes hinged together. Around the back it was all platinum boxes with flat panels rather than emeralds. The computer representation was impressive, and it gave her chills to think about wearing it. The entire affair it turned out would cost more than her car had when it was new. Just as they were finishing up though she had an inspiration, and it took her another ten minutes to emerge from the front of the store practically skipping in her high black heels.

At six thirty Westin closed a manila folder on his desk and rubbed his temples deeply with his thumbs. It was hard to return the office to order after skipping a day. Still massaging his head with his right hand he pushed an auto dial button on his speakerphone, let the phone ring twice and hung up. He checked his watch, and stood to pull on his suit jacket.

Seven minutes later Westin opened the door to the corporate entrance on the garage level, and stepped into the parking lot. Christine was sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW witch she had left running moments ago directly in front of the doors. He glanced at his watch, and smiled. He moved to the passenger door. Opening it he smiled down at her, and noted the pride he felt when he had seen the car waiting for him.

“You should drive, we have a stop to make on the way home. I, have directions.”

Christine got out and made her way to the drivers seat again. A few moments later he was giving her the directions through downtown to his unknown destination. She almost giggled when they pulled up to a Porsche and Jaguar dealer.

Together they walked into the showroom his arm protectively around her waist, and he moved directly for a black 911. Without so much as a hello to the blustering salesman he held the passenger door for her. The salesman finally intersected him at the nose of the vehicle, and managed to slow Westin enough for interaction.

“Sir, you need credit approval before I can authorize a drive or other demo of the vehicle.” The man was not used to being bossed around so completely, and Westin's body language was not allowing the salesman any leverage.

“If you'll run and get my keys I'll write you a check. Credit will not be necessary.”

The man went pale, and he turned on his heels

Westin sat comfortably behind the wheel. Christine saw the erotic pleasure the car gave him. He breathed deep into his nose and slowly exhaled before looking into her brilliant green eyes and speaking.

“You will be keeping the BMW, I have already added you to the insurance. I will drive this.”

Christine saw the salesman returning with another salesman who to her eye was obviously the first mans superior. They were both quite eager to speak to Westin.

The superior spoke first.

“Sir I'm afraid that it's not as easy as a check, Due to the expense of the vehicle we will have to verify the check with your bank before releasing it to you. Also we will need to do the usual insurance verification.”

Westin mumbled under his breath a bit, and reached into the interior pocket of his jacket for his wallet. Removing from it three seconds later an insurance card, and an odd black credit card issued by American express. The two men returned to their usual behavior of service with elegance the moment they saw the card, and the junior of the two was found with his mouth slightly agape at it. He scrambled to take them and handle the business while the senior man deftly palmed the keys to Westin.

Finally pleased with the service, Westin stared straight at him.

“Have someone open the show room doors while he runs that please.”

“Of course sir we will handle it directly. If you don't mind my associate will need to verify your drivers license when he returns for you to sign the credit slip?”

“Absolutely.”

When the man walked off. Westin closed the door, and put the key into the ignition. Turning to Christine he leaned across the car and kissed her hard, running his tongue directly at hers, and then pulling it straight out. As he pulled away he put a hand on her thigh and ran up and down the length of it from her knee up into her hip, pushing the skirt high as he did. She closed her eyes for a moment, but had to open them as he started unbuckling his pants. She looked around through the car windows expecting to see a small crowd of sales and technical people watching, but saw no one.

After undoing the belt, button, and zipper Westin smoothly clasped Christine's right hand and slid it into his pants. She had to turn her body to him and then began stroking him running her thumb over the head whenever she got to the top.

Westin saw the salesman returning, and slightly cracked the window to hand the man his driver's license, and to receive the credit slip and his cards. Christine was surprised to see the man had it in the same style folder used at a restaurant. As soon as he was done with the driver's license he clumsily fed all the documents through the tiny slit Westin had left in the window. She didn't release his cock the entire time, and was now rolling his precum slowly around the tip.

“I will come by tomorrow to finish paperwork.” Westin told the man

This time there was no resistance from the salesman

“No problem Mr. Banks, we can even fax it if you want to call me in the morning. I put my business card in with your insurance and credit cards.”

With that Westin handed the credit card folder back, closed the window, and looked around to find the double doors to the garage in the back of the showroom were opened. The senior salesperson was waving him back like a man guiding an airplane. Slowly, Westin shifted the car into reverse, and then turned to look through the back glass, as he pulled Christine's face into his lap.

The car interior was small and cramped, and in order to do please Westin she had to press her back end solidly against the passenger window. She felt the cold glass against her ass cheeks as her tongue and lips tried to make her man happy. She knew now that anyone with eyes would see her fully exposed through the un-tinted glass but didn't really care. Westin's utter command of the situation had her weak at the knees, and begging internally for more.

Driving through the showroom and garage Westin was certain that several salesmen including the two assisting him, as well as quite a few service department types had gotten an eyeful. When he entered the parking lot, he fed the car gas and managed to hit the city streets in a slide. The turn forced Christine's ass further against the window, even as she continued masturbating Westin into her mouth.

Westin ended up going through three stoplights before he came into her warm mouth.

He had seen a few pedestrians as he drove. They had all been stunned, one man stopping in the middle of a cross walk, not spurred to move until the cross traffic started honking at the delay. As Christine put his pants back together, and sat back in her seat, he spoke aloud.

“I think I'll have the windows tinted.”

Through a fit of laughter, Christine forced out a stubborn.

“Yes sir.”

“Take the car home, I'll meet you there.”

Christine looked around, and saw that they were back in the dealership parking lot and had pulled up neatly next to the BMW.

“Yes Sir.”

Without another word she stepped out of the Porsche and into the BWM

They were home a little less than an hour later. Westin arrived first as he found himself unable to keep his foot out of the Porsche's accelerator. When he entered the house he started to frown at once. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, and rambled through the rest of the down stairs. In the first floor hallway he flicked a switch that would turn the lights on in the basement as he resignedly slipped a dog leash from the wall by the basement door. Slipping his hand through the leash's lanyard he stood in the doorway to the den and waited for her arrival.

Christine parked the BMW, in the drive, and gripped the wheel tightly. She had never imagined doing something as public as what had happened tonight, and now found herself wondering if there was a chance he had missed the coffee when he walked in.

Slowly she unbuckled and got out of the car. With a last deep breath she slipped her keys into the lock, and a moment later entered the house. There were no lights on, on the first floor. Perhaps he was exhausted and went to bed. Maybe he hadn't noticed at all. She quickly undressed, and placed her clothes neatly in a pile. She put on the cuffs ankle and wrist, and strapped her collar into place. She lightly ran her fingertips over the leather, proud of her selection. Then trying to slip up the stairs and into bed with what she hoped was a thoroughly exhausted man she walked past the door to the den.

Well almost. As soon as she crossed into the doorway Westin pounced. He slipped his hand out deftly to her collar, with the leashes clasp pinned open in his hand. It caught the intended D-ring as he waved it past the collar. He immediately pulled the leash taught, and halted her momentum then began pulling her to him.

Westin wrapped his felt arm around her waist and kept the leash taught in his right first.

Steeling herself for his impending anger Christine took a deep breath.

“Downstairs…now.” His voice was unflinching, and the words seethed with his anger.

“Stand in the center of the room beneath the pulley.”

She didn't hesitate. Thinking about the longing she had felt earlier for a spanking, Christine decided that just now she may be on her way to more than she had bargained for. She went down the stairs quickly, and found the spot in the floor directly below the pulley. They hadn't done full suspension before, but he had pulled her arms so high above her head that she had been forced to balance on her toe tips while he spanked her with a riding crop.

He came down a minute later obviously he had taken time to change clothes as he was now wearing just a pair of tan boxer shorts. His face still showed his displeasure. First thing he did was walk to his long wall of toys and tools, and grab the leather blindfold they had bought together at Marci's shop.

As she was still standing in the middle of the room, and hadn't been spoken to, she decided not to watch him, just to wait. Still, he walked right back to her and fastened the blindfold securely into place. All she knew was what she could hear now.

He was sliding something across the floor. And when it got close, he pulled her out of the way. The object slid some more, then he returned and tugged her back into place. She nearly tripped realizing that the smooth concrete floor was no longer level. It rose an inch or so, and she was standing on something cushy. Christine envisioned that it was something like a gym mat. She felt the familiar movements of him securing her wrists together, but when he worked with her ankles she felt him nudge her to spread them apart. She complied of course, but now wondered what he was up to.

Minutes was all it took to put her in the place he wanted her. He secured a three-foot metal rod between her ankles, pushing her feet wide from one another. Standing back he watched her sway from side to side, adjusting herself to the awkward sense of balance.

He moved to the wall and plucked the rope securely intertwined in the anchor point. Careful not to allow any slack in the line, he kept an eye on the forty-five pound weight fastened to the other end of the rope which itself had been run through his over head pulley. He did not want it falling on her. Moving back to stand in front of her he lowered the weight. He shouldn't have worried it came down about four feet in front of her.

“I'm going to help you sit now. Put your legs out in front of you.”

Christine felt him behind her, felt his warm hands under her arms pulling her body back. She slowly bent her waist and found herself sitting on the mat now. It was cold, and goose bumps rose up on her legs. He fiddled with the bar that was pulling her apart for a moment, and spoke to her again.

“I am disappointed Christine, I left a very simple note because this was our first day of co-existence. It did not go well. As I told you we will have to be sterner until things become seamless. Now let's begin. Keep your hands over your head.”

As she pulled her hands from in front and raised them high, Westin went back to the anchor point and looped the rope once for leverage, then began to pull back raising Christine's legs. She startled at the move, but gathered herself well. He continued pulling her weight was on her back now, he legs slowly going into the air spread wide. It was a beautiful sight. Five more tugs on the rope, and her weight was resting on her shoulders. He went to the wall now and picked a purple suede flogger, and a riding crop. The flogger's strips of suede were perhaps two feet long. Then he returned to Christine and stood over her head, gazing at her form. Her breasts were lying to the sides of her chest nipples extended, and aureoles bunched with excitement. Enticingly he ran the flogger over her chest and up her belly and into her crotch with his right hand. The crop held to the side with his left hand. It was his surprise, and he held it quite still to insure she wouldn't become aware of it early.

Christine was slipping slowly into a trance of pleasure. The suspension was keeping her exposed to him, and she could feel his presence, and hear his breath before he ran the leather tails over her. She felt the leather lift from her pussy, and heard the whoosh of it in the air. It began to strike her hips left then right. Upon contact the ends of the strands would wrap around and smack her ass. The pain was not severe, but the whumping sound it made when it struck was exquisite.

Westin struck alternating for about a dozen blows before flopping the flogger onto her crotch. The power of the blow would flop over onto her ass he knew, but the pressure on her pussy still drove her wild. Leaving the flogger in place for a moment, he took careful aim with his left hand and jolted her ribcage just below her right armpit with the folded leather end of his crop.

“Aaahhhh!”

Christine wanted to jump out of her skin. This pain was new. All of their pain play had been on her ass and legs until now. She tried hard to control her anxiety, telling her self he would not hurt her. He was moving the flogger again. Dangling the ends of it just over her breasts, teasing her nipples.

Thawack! He had lifted the flogger and was now striking her right nipple with the crop. Westin marveled at her face, she grimaced on contact, and then it cleared settling into a blank expression. He wondered what was in her head as he shifted his vision and looked at her now reddening right nipple.

Thawack! Westin had now struck her left nipple, and now the hot sore feeling on her right was accompanied with an intense pain on the left that was settling into it's own hot sore feeling. Thawack! Thawack! Thawack. She writhed with pain, her body betraying her and wriggling to escape the pain. He was now striking the surface of her right breast, and it screamed with fire across its entire surface.

Thawack! Thawack! Westin turned his attentions to her left breast now. It took five blows to cover it his satisfaction. Then he took aim at her exposed pussy, and landed one on it's hooded clit. The blow was delivered with about a quarter of the power as the ones on her breasts, but still she jumped, thrusting her pelvic region upward to him. He struck again, and again watching her jump. Over and over he watched until he thought she could take no more.

Christine couldn't contain herself. The pain radiated out of her crotch, and her legs began to tremble from ecstasy and poor circulation. In contrast the excess blood had her breasts swelling and warmed. Her nipples were painfully erect, and beneath the blindfold, she knew they were as large as they had ever been. She was not aware that he had stepped away until her legs began their descent. Her pussy throbbed, and she ached to join with him.

Westin was through; he could contain himself no more as he tied off the end of the rope. Christine's legs were back on the ground, and he moved to her feet. He unlatched the carabineers holding the bar to her ankle cuffs, and rolled her forcibly onto her stomach. She lay flat until he grasped her hips, and pulled.

She felt him, and slid her elbows beneath her while rising up to her knees. Hearing him undo his pants, her excitement grew. She was drenched between her legs, and wanted him.

Smack! He slapped her ass once with his hand as his other hand forced his pants and boxer shorts down.

Smack! Westin slapped again before grabbing the back of her thighs with either hand, rotating and spreading her legs at the same time. He entered her easily then released the hold on her thighs. She wailed in joy, as he began thrusting. His breathing deepened with exertion.

Christine couldn't resist the feelings. She longed for release, but forced herself to wait for him. After a minute he had not, and she began to get desperate.

“S-Sir?” She was barely intelligible.

He grinned knowing she wanted to cum.

“No.” Westin sped up going as fast as he could, and moved his left thumb to her rectum.

“S-Sir please.” Now she was begging, tears forming in her eyes. Her arms were trembling, and she could barely draw enough breath to speak.

“No Christine. Not yet.”

He was beginning to get close himself, and reached forward to lodge his right hand in her hair. Pulling her head back slowly he maintained his tempo, and saw her biting her lip. Her entire face was scrunched up in joy/agony. He could see the struggle she was in, and she was going to lose.

Barely audible he whispered.

“Ok Christine.”

She screamed as her mind flooded with permission. Her body responded. Her hips bucked wildly. She gasped for air. Her head pulled against his hold. He drew his left hand across her butt and hips, slid it up her abdomen, and grasped her tortured left breast firmly squeezing the welts beneath his fingers. She thought her entire chest was in flames, but it didn't make a difference. Her endorphins translated the torture into gross pleasure instantly. Again she lost control. Now he was losing also, and began to thrust sporadically. Loosing himself deep inside her

Three minutes later he stood and hitched his pants up. Looking exhausted he wiped his face, pulled off her blindfold, and turned to leave the basement. Christine was still sprawled out on the floor her legs twitched occasionally; her eyes were squinted, and out of focus.

“Come up to bed whenever you can stand. Just turn off the fucking Coffee before you go upstairs.