Gotcha

Parp…. Parp…. Parp…. The siren, or hooter, or whatever it was that was making that appalling racket was set to deafening and with each bleat of the siren the room lights flashed on. Jen rolled over, squinting at the bright light as she woke up. Blearily she looked around until, with a sickening thud, it all came back. This wasn’t a dream, this was real, very real, and, if she was going to survive she would need to keep her wits about her. Wendy was smart, there was no doubt about that and, last night, she had shown a breathtaking ruthlessness along with a sick sense of humour. However, Jen wasn’t the sort to give up easily. She’d play along, she had very little choice at the moment, but she’d be looking for the outs, looking for the way to regain her freedom and get her revenge.

As soon as Jen sat up in bed and swung her feet to the ground the siren stopped and the lights ceased flashing. She glanced up at the CCTV camera; inevitably the red light was lit indicating that she was being watched. Apparently the siren was someone’s idea of an alarm clock. Vaguely she wondered whether it was Wendy, Fran or Juanita at the other end but speculation was pointless and she needed to get on; she couldn’t see the current regime being sympathetic to a lie-in. As she went over and sat on the toilet the whine of an electric motor coming from the CCTV camera as it turned to follow her made it obvious that privacy, along with freedom, was going to be in short supply for the foreseeable future. She sat down and sharp twinges from her buttocks attested to the severity of the bruising from last night and she probed gently with a finger to confirm the damage to her sphincter. With only the small mirror above the basin she wasn’t going to be able to do a thorough investigation but, after all, there wasn’t much she could do about it anyway.

She washed her hands and was looking around for a towel when the door opened and Juanita appeared.

“Breakfast, this way.” She said curtly and was gone. Jen followed as quickly as she could, her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t eaten last night and she was ravenous. For a moment she thought about overpowering Juanita but she was astute enough to realise that Wendy would be expecting that and was bound to have some sort of contingency in place. It would be better to play along for the moment and wait for a better opportunity, a clearer chance of freedom.

A short distance down the hall they reached a kitchen area and Juanita motioned Jen over to a breakfast bar where Fran was already perched, sipping at a cup of coffee. Fran looked up and smiled but Jen took no comfort from the smile, it was the smile of a predator, a shark maybe, or a crocodile measuring its prey. Jen chose the stool furthest from Fran but even so she was uneasy; Fran radiated a quiet menace and Jen had no idea how far her licence ran. Was her attack last night a one off, a softening up before being presented to Wendy, or was it going to be the norm; was she going to be brutally abused again? Reinforcing Jen’s feeling of vulnerability was not just the difference in size and power, but the fact that Fran was clothed whereas Jen was naked, and that made Jen shiver and not just with cold. Shaking off these thoughts Jen looked around the breakfast bar to see what was available before helping herself to a cup of coffee from the percolator.

“Morning, ‘Nita, morning Fran.” The door burst open and a fourth woman entered the room. She was athletic looking, in her thirties, quite pretty, with a short cropped hairstyle. She wore a navy blue trouser suit which, whist having no insignia, had the look of a uniform.

“Hello, you must be Madam’s latest pet. Stand up.” The woman went over to Jen who, sensing that the ‘stand up’ was a command rather than a suggestion, slipped off her stool. The woman walked round Jen, inspecting her, running her fingers along the welts on Jen’s buttocks and cupping her breasts as if checking out a piece of meat before purchasing.

“I’m Sally,” the woman continued. “It looks like you’ve already met ‘Nita and Fran. Welcome to our happy crew. What’s your name?”

“Jen.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m sure Madam would have chosen something more appropriate. Let’s have a look.” Sally reached up and inspected the padlock holding Jen’s collar. “piglet, it says here. Now, let’s try again. What’s your name?”

“piglet.” Jen replied.

“That’s better. Keep remembering things like that and you’ll get on so much better, won’t she girls?”

Fran just stared and Juanita was too busy preparing breakfast to reply but that didn’t stop Sally.

“So where did Madam find a pretty little thing like you?” She continued. “Has she been trawling the bars again? Enticing you back here with tales of lezzie lust? Did she lure you into her web?”

“I work for Amalgamated. We met there” Jen replied. She certainly wasn’t going to explain the whole blackmail story. She had no idea how the whole power structure worked round here. Sally had assumed some authority over her, the way she told her to stand, the way she touched her without asking and now the way she was interrogating her all spoke of being in charge, but Jen didn’t know whether this was by right or by nature. She knew she should be scared of Fran, her buttocks attested to that, but should she be scared of Sally too, and what about Juanita? The whole set-up was so bizarre that she couldn’t make any assumptions.

“Well, you’ve caused me quite a bit of work over the past couple of days. I was up late last night moving furniture because of you; I broke a nail on that damn desk so I reckon you owe me one. How about it, girl? How about you pleasuring me to pay me back? Madam isn’t the only one round here who likes to play with the girls, you know; we’re all lezzies here, isn’t that right Fran?” Sally’s voice had developed and air of menace and Jen really didn’t know whether the suggestion that she ‘pleasure’ Sally was an order, a proposal or a joke.

“Leave her alone.” Fran growled. “And shut up, you talk too much.”

“Ok, ok. I was just having a little fun.” Sally pulled out a stool and sat down at the breakfast bar. Jen, grateful that Sally had finished, returned to her stool and resumed quietly sipping her coffee.

Juanita came over with three cooked breakfasts and the three women ate together in relative peace. Jen mulled over all the new information she had gleaned. As she had thought she wasn’t the first to be held here, Wendy was accustomed to ‘trawling the bars’, as Sally had put it, and Jen wondered what had happened to her predecessors. Had they been freed? Had Fran disposed of them in some dreadful way? Had they been coerced, enticed back with tales of ‘lezzie lust’, had they been willing or captured? More importantly Jen was beginning to get a feel for the structure. Sally had described it as ‘all lezzies here’ and it looked like Wendy’s revenge on her was not just business but personal as well.  She wondered vaguely who, if anyone, was sleeping with whom but none of the combinations seemed to make sense. The slow taciturn Fran with her taste for violent anal rape didn’t seem to fit with the ebullient Sally and neither of them would fit with the quiet and withdrawn Juanita.

As for Jen, she’d never had a lesbian affair; for that matter she’d hadn’t had many affairs of any sort. She’d been far too busy at college and afterwards at Amalgamated to get seriously involved with anyone. Most men, no make that all men, bored her; they all seemed to have only one objective, to get inside her panties and they never gave her the respect she felt she deserved. As for women, well, she had no basic objections but it had never really come up before. All in all, to date, her greatest lover had been her rabbit vibrator.

“Time to get moving.” Sally looked at her watch. “You have forty five minutes to get ready; you’ll find everything you need in your room. Wait there, I’ll come and get you.”

Wiping her mouth on her napkin Sally got up and left. Jen, uncertain if she were about to break some unknown rule by leaving the table unaccompanied, looked for support from Fran and Juanita but they both ignored her and she was too uneasy to ask for advice so she got up and headed back to the room where she had slept. Someone, Jen guessed it had to be Sally, had delivered some things whilst she had been away. There, on the bed, was a neatly folded pile of clothes and, over by the sink, there was now a towel, some assorted makeup and a hairbrush. Jen unfolded the clothes; there was a short skirt in charcoal grey, a matching jacket, a white cotton blouse, a pair of hold-up stockings and a pair of high heeled court shoes. She ruffled through the pile again and again but there wasn’t much there and she certainly hadn’t missed anything. That confirmed it; there was neither bra nor panties anywhere in the pile.

Time was getting on and she hadn’t a watch so she couldn’t check but quite a bit of the forty five minutes must have gone already. She turned on the shower and went over to the basin and looked at the makeup whilst it warmed up. She was bemused by the fact that the range provided was identical to what would be found on her dressing table at home. When she checked the shower it was still cold, and, however she adjusted the knobs, it stayed that way; it looked like it was a cold shower or none at all and she definitely wasn’t going to go out unwashed. Shivering under the cold water she soaped her hair, hoping that this would help sort out the tangled mess that last night had left her with. The shower gel was also her own brand and, as quickly as she could, she washed herself down, desperate to get out of the shower as soon as possible.

While she was towelling herself dry she looked again at the makeup, the shower gel, the shampoo, even the toothpaste was the brand she used at home. Someone, she guessed Fran, had done their research very thoroughly and it was creepy to think just how well she’d been investigated. How much more did Fran, and, by implication, Wendy know? Were any of her secrets safe?

She looked again in the mirror. The shampoo and conditioner had done wonders for her hair but it was still wet. There was no hair dryer but Jen’s shoulder length style was just about short enough that she could get away with it and let it dry naturally. At least, towelled and brushed, it was neater, more presentable than it had been over breakfast.

She went over to the bed and started to get dressed. She hated hold-up stockings; come to think of it she hated all types of stockings but, if that was what was provided, that was what she had to wear. Futile rebellion over trivia like stockings would get her nowhere; best to save up the anger for when she could use it. Then she unfolded the blouse and realised that the material was much, much thinner than it had looked; it was almost transparent. She put it on and went to the mirror over the sink and her heart fell. The blouse could just, barely just, be called decent. With a white bra it would have been fine, if a trifle risqué, but, in her braless state, you didn’t have to look too hard to see the darker outline of her nipples through the thin cotton. However, as with the stockings, it would have to do; she really had no choice. The skirt turned out to be an improvement. She had wondered just how short it was going to be, whether it would be another assault on her modesty, but it ended up maybe four inches above the knee. The matching jacket was, like the rest of the clothes, very smart and a perfect fit but, when Jen looked, she realised that there were no pockets anywhere. She certainly wasn’t going to be concealing any weapons in it.

She went back to the mirror and, as far as possible, checked out the result. She had to admire what she had to assume was Wendy’s style. At first sight she looked just like any other smart, presentable business woman in a charcoal grey suit and white blouse. It was only on the second look that the fact she was not wearing a bra became evident. As she twisted back and forth trying to get a better view, the collar around her neck glinted in the bright lights. Again there was this subtle blend of the obvious and the hidden. Had she been wearing a leather collar, for example, there would have been no way she could have worn it to work without attracting the wrong sort of attention, not just for her but for Wendy as well. The silver collar, on the other hand, was sufficiently like a choker to pass muster, at first sight, as ‘normal’ jewellery and it was only on the second glance that you saw what it was, and what it represented.

The door opened and Sally poked her head in. “Come on, slowcoach. You don’t want to keep Madam waiting. Trust me on this.”

Jen slipped on the shoes and followed. The shoes were, of course, a perfect fit, but the height of the heels was just enough to slow Jen down. She could wear these all day, she was going to have to, but she wouldn’t be running any marathons, that was for certain.

She followed Sally down the hallway and, as they approached a heavy looking door at the end, the light above it turned from red to green and there was a click as the bolts withdrew. Wendy obviously took her security seriously. This was a door which would keep intruders out and, more relevantly, keep her in. She wondered what had triggered the locks. Although there were the usual CCTV cameras dotted around Jen couldn’t envisage Wendy paying anyone just to open and close the doors and it would be far too menial a job for a security expert like Fran. She surmised that there was probably some sort of sensor, something in Sally’s pocket perhaps, that opened the locks.

The door opened out into the garage and Sally let Jen across to Wendy’s Mercedes and motioned her to get in the back. Sally then slid gracefully into the front and, putting on a peaked cap she picked up off the passenger seat, started the car and drove it out into the morning sunshine. They had hardly arrived at the front of the house when Wendy appeared. Sally jumped out and opened the door for her letting Wendy into the car beside Jen.

“Good morning, piglet. Did you sleep well? I hope Juanita fixed you up a proper breakfast, it’s going to be quite a day today.”

“Good morning, Wend… Mistress.” Jen replied, correcting herself just in time.

“Tut, tut. Not a good start, we’ve hardly started the day and you’re nearly forgetting how to address me already. We’ve got a big meeting today and your behaviour has to be perfect. I can’t afford any silly mistakes. Let me down on this and I’ll have to consider my options. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” As ever with Wendy, Jen was finding that the steel fist was not far beneath the velvet glove.

“That’s better.” Wendy reached inside her briefcase and brought out a file. “Now read this, I want you word perfect by the time the meeting starts.”

Jen opened the file. It concerned Shanghai Allied Logistics, S.A.L. for short, and more particularly Mr Hong, the CEO. The first few pages were the normal sort of briefing, what the company was, what it did, where it did it, and so on but, as the report progressed it became more about Mr Hong, his rumoured connections with the Triads, the various power struggles within S.A.L. and how he’d risen to the top. The final section was very personal, describing his various tastes in detail, how he saw himself as a connoisseur, not just of fine food and wine, but also of the arts and of women.  Jen was so engrossed she hardly noticed the journey and was still reading when the car pulled up at the front entrance to Amalgamated.

Quick as a flash Sally was out of the car and opening the door. Wendy got out of the car and Jen followed behind. As they progressed through the lobby every door was opened for them and there was a constant background of ‘good morning, Miss McCuskell’ from the various people they passed. Then it was straight into the executive lift to be whisked up to the fifteenth floor and the executive suite.

As they entered Wendy’s office Jen was amazed to see a desk, her desk, had been moved out of the general office area and into a corner, out of the way but in full view of Wendy. Noticing her surprise Wendy chuckled.

“Did you think I was going to leave you out there, out where you could get up to all sorts of mischief? That’s not how it works anymore; I want you right here, right where I can keep an eye on you. There’ll be no more plotting behind my back and, anyway, this will fit your new role so much better.”

“My new role, Mistress?” Jen enquired.

“Oh, yes. You’ll still be my assistant but your duties will be so much more personal from now on, you’ll be working with me very closely indeed. You’ll see soon enough. Now, you had better get on.”

Jen sat down at her desk and fired up her computer. Once she had logged on she opened her email; there at the top of the list was a message from Wendy called ‘Read This Now’. She opened it and read

Just to show that I don’t make empty threats I suggest that you check the ‘My Pictures’ folder on your PC. Note that any attempt to delete the contents will be monitored and result in severe punishment.

Jen opened the folder to find it was full of files, files that she was sure had not been there the day before. She opened one at random and was appalled. She was broad minded and took a live and let live attitude but anything that involved children, especially the perverted, degrading, disgusting….

“Oh my God…” she groaned as nausea welled inside her.

“Sick, aren’t they.” Wendy replied from across the room. “I’m sure you’d agree that anyone with filth like that on their computer deserves to be locked up for a very long time. I know that’s how the courts would see it. Now, maybe you need some time to reconsider your attitude towards me.”

“Please, please Mistress.” Jen was shaken to the core. “Please, let me get rid of them.”

“Maybe if you came and asked me nicely.” Wendy’s voice had regained its edge of steel.

Jen got up from her desk and went over to Wendy. She wasn’t exactly sure what Wendy wanted but she knew the general idea. She fell to her knees and bowed her head.

“Please, Mistress, please may I delete those files. Please, Mistress, they’re so sick they make me feel ill just knowing that they’re there.”

“And why should I?”

“Please, Mistress, I’ll do anything, anything at all, anything you ask, just please let me delete those files.”

“Let me think… Umm…. No! And I’ll tell you why. I don’t trust you, I can’t trust you, why should I? You would stab me in the back at the first opportunity; you’ve already shown that with your pathetic attempt at blackmail. If you want those files gone then you’ll have to earn it; you’ll have to regain my trust, prove to me that you deserve it, prove to me that you’re worthy. As to ‘I’ll do anything at all’, yes, you will, willingly or not, and it’s only when you’ll do it willingly, when you do my bidding without any coercion, without the need for threats, that, maybe, we’ll reconsider. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jen felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, unbidden tears welled from her eyes. Up until now the whole thing had been some sort of dream but now, now that she could really see what she was up against, now that she could appreciate the strength of the cage around her, she knew she was beaten; anyone with the skills to put that filth on her computer would have the skills to frame her completely and she could see only too well that any jury would convict her in seconds. Part of her, a huge part of her, wanted just to run away but, even if she found a moment when she wasn’t being watched or confined, there was always what Wendy had said about Fran being a trained bounty hunter. If she ran and was found, and it looked likely that she would be, God knows what Wendy, with Fran’s assistance, would do to her. For a minute or two she just knelt there, rocked to the core, the unchecked tears running down her face.

“Come along now, dry your tears, I don’t want you ruining your make up.” Wendy voice was soothing, conciliatory; harsh Wendy had gone, soft Wendy was back. Jen looked up to see that she was holding out a tissue which she took and used to blow her nose.

“That’s better. Now then. Did you read the file?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jen replied.

“Well, we’re meeting with him in an hour or so to discuss out new shipping contract to the Far East. How would you handle it?”

“Well, it seems like S.A.L. have all the infrastructure we need. It’s a matter of getting the right price.” Jen was keen to show her understanding.

“And how would you get that price, what tactics would you use?”

“I’d… I’d… I don’t know, Mistress.” Jen admitted.

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m the boss and you’re on your knees. Don’t get up by the way; I quite like you down there for the moment. What you need to do is look at the man, not the company.”

“The man, Mistress?”

“Yeah, old Hong’s a lecherous sod. All that ‘connoisseur of women’ nonsense. He’s a dirty old man with wandering hands. That’s where you come in.”

“Pardon, Mistress?”

“You’re going to distract him. I’ll make sure you’re sitting where he can see you and you’re going to flirt with him. Nothing to obvious, nothing too vulgar, just make sure he knows what colour panties you’re wearing.”

“But I’m not wearing any panties, I wasn’t given any…” The penny dropped and Jen realised just what she was being asked to do.

“Now you’re getting it. You distract him, he’ll sign anything I put in front of him and I’ll get the deal I want. Comprende?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” Wendy reached down, took Jen by the collar, and pulled her up to her. She lent forward and kissed her deeply; a long, lingering and, above all, sensuous kiss which left Jen quite breathless. It was quite some time before she broke away.

“Now go and get yourself cleaned up and fix that makeup. The bathroom is behind that door.”

The bathroom was as opulent as the rest of Wendy’s executive suite and had full length mirrors set into the marble walls. Jen, still very shaken, spent a few moments just staring at herself. She knew she had just passed some kind of Rubicon, that she had made a significant step towards accepting her current status. She was still a long, long way from wishing for it but it was certainly the best available option at the moment and, when she was being submissive she saw the softer side of Wendy, the side that seemed genuinely willing to teach her the business, who seemed to care about her. What was it Wendy had said? That one day she would want to serve? Surely that couldn’t be. Surely…

With a shake of her head Jen pushed her thoughts to one side. Speculation was all very well but, for the moment she had to deal with the here and now. She had a job to do and the first thing to fix was her makeup. She opened a cupboard above the washbasins to see what was available and inside there was all she could require so she set to work.

When she had finished she looked herself over in the full length mirror and she could appreciate again just how clever Wendy had been with the choice of clothes. She was, superficially, dressed exactly how you would expect the CEO’s personal assistant to be dressed, except the skirt was maybe just a touch too short, the blouse just a touch too transparent, and the collar just a touch too suggestive. Sure, she was going to play the tart, but it was an expensive tart, a tart with class, and just the thing to distract a dirty old man like Mr Hong. She’d have him drooling in no time. The challenge before her had lifted her spirits and she determined to do well, not so as to please Wendy, not to avoid further punishment, but to prove herself.

She returned to the office and sat down at her desk. New role or not, there was plenty to get on with, plenty that needed her attention and, if she were to be in meetings all day, then quite a bit of it couldn’t wait.

An hour later a phone call from reception announced that Mr Hong’s party was just arriving. Wendy despatched Jen to go and fetch him up to the board room. Down in the lobby Jen welcomed Mr Hong and three associates and led them to the lift. Mr Hong was, at first sight, an unimpressive figure. He was short and plump and, Jen guessed, in his late fifties or even older. She had to remind herself of what she knew from the file; this unimposing man had fought his way up to lead S.A.L. and, whilst there was little or no hard evidence, there was plenty of circumstantial evidence to back the rumours that he could be completely ruthless and that his Triad connections were very real. Jen wondered if someone like that would ever fall for something as basic as her flirting with him and was wondering where to start until she realised that he was already addressing his remarks not to her face but to her chest. His eyes, when not fixated on her nipples, would flick from time to time to her neck. Jen wondered what inferences he would draw; when he looked at her neck did he see a choker or a collar, and, if it were the latter, what did he understand by it.

By the time they got to the boardroom Wendy, along with some staff from the legal department was waiting. After the usual introductions they went, not to the boardroom table, but to an area set aside with armchairs and coffee tables. Jen sat next to Wendy and opposite Mr Hong.

Jen was determined to be subtle, it wouldn’t do to be too obvious, but she hardly needed to be. Mr Hong could hardly keep his eyes off her and all she needed to do was return his looks with coy smiles. This meant that Jen was able to follow the negotiations, a process she found fascinating. She had never been this close to the centre of power before but, when push came to shove, there wasn’t much difference between the haggling that was happening here and the haggling she’d see every weekend at the local flea market. She could feel that they were reaching a crucial stage so she crossed her legs and let her skirt ride up to mid thigh, exposing the lacy tops of her stockings. Mr Hong’s eyes nearly popped out on stalks and Jen had to study a file closely to hide her smirk.

At mid day they broke for lunch and Jen found herself standing with Wendy and Mr Hong as they sipped their pre lunch cocktails.

“That’s a fascinating necklace, young lady.” Mr Hong was talking to Jen and losing any subtlety he might once have had.

“It’s a present from me.” Wendy broke in. “A reward for good service.”

“Ah, I see.” Mr Hong went on. “And who holds the key to that pretty little padlock?”

“Mr Hong!” Jen blushed deeply causing Wendy and Mr Hong to laugh. The question was never directly answered but Mr Hong was no fool and Jen guessed that he would have read a file on Wendy in just the same way that Wendy had read a file on him. Given what Sally had said that morning about Wendy trawling the bars she had to assume that he knew of Wendy’s penchant for submissive women and he would assume that she was the latest in line. The only way forward was for Jen to play along, to play that the collar was willingly worn, that she was a consenting pet for Wendy but, in some ways that made it easier. Pets aren’t supposed to take the initiative and she could still flirt whilst being apparently shy and retiring.

“They went on in to lunch and, either by accident or design, Jen ended up sat next to Mr Hong. Although he spent most of the meal talking to Wendy, apparently ignoring Jen as a minion unworthy of his interest, it wasn’t long before Jen felt his hand groping under the table for her knee. This was it, this was the dividing line. If she brushed his hand away she would be asserting her independence, she would be brushing him off. On the other hand… She picked up her wine glass to give her something to do, something to distract herself.

Mr Hong’s hand was moving slowly, but inexorably up her thigh. She felt her flesh creep as his podgy fingers pushed her skirt aside, reached the tops of her stockings, and moved towards her groin. Every fibre of her body wanted to clamp her legs together, to scream out, to expose him for the old letch he was but she remembered Wendy’s instruction to ‘let him know what colour panties she was wearing’ and, mentally gritting her teeth, she eased her legs apart. That was all the encouragement he needed and his hand slipped between her thighs. After an initial fumble, Jen could guess his surprise at finding no panties in his way, his fingers probed at her vagina, pushing the lips apart, forcing their way inside.

Mr Hong was clumsy and Jen was far from aroused which meant that his probings were uncomfortable, bordering on painful. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, when a particularly clumsy tweak of her clitoris caused Jen to emit a squeak of pain, it was seen as further encouragement and, as far as was possible whilst still maintaining the pretence to the rest of the table that nothing was happening, Mr Hong went at her with renewed vigour.

At last lunch was over. As they got up from the table Jen noticed the bulge in Mr Hong’s groin. His fumbling may have left her totally cold but it had aroused Mr Hong no end. They were on their way back to the boardroom when Mr Hong sidled up to Wendy.

“I find myself a little tense. Perhaps, after we’ve signed the agreements, you assistant might help? Her pretty little mouth would be just the thing.” He leered.

“Of course, Mr Hong, let me arrange it for you. Please excuse us for a moment.” Wendy took Jen aside into the ladies toilets.

“Hong wants a blow job, and you’re going to give him one.” She said as soon as the door was closed.

“Please, Mistress…” Jen was horrified. A bit of flirting was one thing, letting him grope her all through lunch was yet another but this, euch!

“How long ago was it that you were on your knees promising to do anything I ask? Well it starts right here and right now with you giving Hong his blow job.  That is an order. You will obey it, this deal means far too much for you to back out now. Need I remind you of the alternatives?”

For a moment or two Jen couldn’t say a word. When she’d promised to do ‘anything’ it had been under pressure from discovering the filth on her computer and, anyway, ‘anything’ wasn’t meant to include giving disgusting old businessmen blow jobs. Her mind was in turmoil, but, at the end of the day, she had no choice in the matter; Wendy had shown the extent and depth of her control.

“Of course, Mistress.” She replied at last.

“That’s better. Just be grateful he didn’t ask to take you up the arse, or would a slut like you have preferred that?” Wendy laughed.

“Mistress!” Jen replied but any discussion there might have been was over and they went back into the board room.

The afternoon session was pretty much the same as the morning one. Mr Hong couldn’t keep his eyes off Jen and, despite her growing nausea about what was coming she flirted back. By four-o-clock all was done and dusted and, with a flourish of Mont Blanc pens, the papers were signed. Mr Hong got to his feet and went over to shake hands with Wendy.

“A deal well done, Miss McCuskell.” He said. “Now, we can’t stay long, I have a plane to catch but, before I leave, about my strain relief…”

“Of course, my private room is through that door there.”

Mr Hong grabbed Jen by the hand and near dragged her off to the private room. As soon as he entered he locked the door and, unbuttoning his trousers sat down in an armchair. Jen had to stifle a laugh; Mr Hong’s power as a businessman was not matched by his anatomy, indeed his aggression in the boardroom may well have been overcompensation. However, that didn’t detract from the fact that his penis, however small, was about to go in her mouth. She knelt down before him, took his penis in her fingers with a milking action and played with his glans with the tip of her tongue. Mr Hong was not in the mood for such subtlety. He grabbed Jen’s collar either side of her neck and pulled her forward, thrusting himself inside as deep as he would go. Within moments he was panting, and, seconds later the warm salty taste filled Jen’s mouth as he climaxed and great gobbets of sperm spurted from his penis. Jen fought back the vomit reflex and swallowed.

Mr Hong had hardly finished before he was buttoning himself up again. Without a word he stood up, strode to the door and, leaving Jen in a heap on the floor, departed. The door was left ajar and Jen could hear him thanking Wendy as if her services were something handed out at Wendy’s discretion. With a sinking heart Jen realised that this was indeed the case and wondered what would have happened had his tastes run to anal sex, or God knows what else.

Now that she was alone she knew she should be looking for outs, searching for an escape plan but the door which, at first, had been left ajar had now been closed and when Jen tested it she wasn’t surprised to find it locked. So was the only other door to the room, and all the cupboards so Jen helped herself to a glass of water from a decanter on a sideboard and slumped down in an armchair to wait. Twenty minutes later, Wendy entered, a beaming smile on her face.

“That’s the Far East distribution sewn up for the next five years and at a very nice price indeed. What did I tell you, play the man, not the company. He was practically coming in his pants he was so hot for you.” Wendy was animated, excited. “Men are such fools. He was so keen to get his prick in your pretty little mouth he was signing practically anything, completely ignoring his legal team’s advice.”

“And was it awful for you?” She mocked. “Did the nasty man stick his hand up your skirt? Did he make you suck him off? Did he come in your mouth? Did you have to swallow? I bet you quite enjoyed it, a dirty little tart like you.”

“Please, Mistress.” Jen was horrified at the thought. “I could never enjoy that.”

“And how about pleasing me? Could you enjoy that?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress?” Jen replied, nonplussed.

“Well, the thought of you gobbling away at Hong’s needle dick, not to mention the vast profits today is going to lead to, have left me hot and horny so now it’s my turn, I’m going to require your services, right away.”

In one smooth movement Wendy slipped down the pants of her trouser-suit and her panties and lay back in an armchair. Jen sighed internally but she wanted to keep Wendy in this good mood so she hurried over and knelt before her. Jen had never performed cunnilingus before but at least she understood the anatomy and could imagine how she would wish it done to her. Slowly, sensuously, she set to work, teasing open the flower of Wendy’s vagina, sliding her tongue along the folds of skin, feeling Wendy respond, tasting her juices, moving slowly, never rushing, towards her clitoris. As she did so she felt a twinge of jealousy. Why was it that none of her sexual partners, up to and including Mr Hong, had ever understood about foreplay? Like Mr Hong they had always rushed in, prodding and poking around before she was ready, before she was warmed up, before she was receptive to such treatment. She, on the other hand, was determined to be the best she could be for Wendy and, whatever her feelings inside, would approach her as a true lover.

And what were her feelings inside. Overnight her world had been transformed from that of an independent young woman to that of some sort of sex slave but, and she was surprised to find there was a ‘but’, through this transformation she had bizarrely been admitted to Wendy’s inner sanctum. In her previous role she had not even known that the deal with S.A.L. was about to happen; now she was there as the papers were signed and, more importantly, privy to Wendy’s tactics and strategies. There was a bitter irony in the way in which, as she lost her freedom and became ‘nothing’ she had better access to the world to which she aspired. She’d heard about people sleeping with the boss to get on; in her case it seemed that the way to get on was to become the boss’s sex slave.

Mingled in with all this was a sense of pride. She felt like Mata Hari, using her feminine whiles to distract and spy on the enemy; without her the deal would not have gone so well, she had played a part, and an important part, in getting the final price. This, of course, begged the question, how far would she have gone with Mr Hong? The question was moot in this case, the deal was done and Mr Hong had left, but next time, and surely there was going to be a next time, how far would she go? More importantly, how far would she be forced to go? She was realistic enough to realise that she would have no choice. She could even envisage being held down by Fran whilst Mr Hong raped her if that was what Wendy required, and somehow, appalling as this image was, there would still be that sense of pride. Her anus was still bruised and battered from Fran’s brutality last night and she could never envisage welcoming such treatment but, somehow, deep, deep inside, in a place she hardly dared admit existed, the very idea caused an illicit tingle.

A sensuous moan from Wendy broke through Jen’s reveries and brought her sharply back to the business in hand. Under the steady rhythmic flick of her tongue Wendy’s clitoris was hard and swollen, jutting out, inviting more. Jen responded by upping the pressure, she could sense that Wendy was riding some sort of wave and she determined to go with her.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Keep it like that, just like that, oooh, harder, harder, yes, yes…”  Wendy hissed between clenched teeth. Either side of her head Jen could feel Wendy’s thigh muscles tensing and relaxing, this wasn’t just one wave but a succession, each one longer and higher than the last until Wendy’s whole body seemed to spasm, she twisted this way and that and Jen had to work hard to keep up with her. Wendy uttered a dark, animal cry that, without words, spoke deeply of the lust released within her and, with a final shudder, threw Jen to one side and collapsed.

For a while the two women didn’t move, each in her own way exhausted. Then Wendy stood up out of the armchair.

“Not bad, for a beginner, but I got the impression I didn’t have your full attention at one point. Have a care, piglet, sloppy work will not be tolerated. Now, get back to your desk, I’m sure you have lots to do.” Wendy turned on her heel and strode of towards the bathroom.

The rollercoaster that was Jen’s emotions took another steep dive. Only moments before she had been congratulating herself on her part in helping achieve the deal with Mr Hong, and she had been proud that her role, however degrading and demeaning, had been important. Then she had given Wendy an orgasm and all she had got in return was a ‘not bad for a beginner’, coupled with an admonishment. A simple ‘thank you’ would have meant so much, surely Wendy could see that, why couldn’t she say it? Despondent and deflated she returned to her desk and the mountain of work waiting there for her.

Wendy reappeared thirty minutes later having showered and changed her clothes and she went straight to her desk without another word to Jen. The two women worked in silence until, at seven-o-clock Wendy announced that it was time to go. Jen was still unable to shake her deflated mood and was withdrawn and silent. Whether Wendy was aware of this was moot, withdrawn and silent was how Jen was supposed to behave unless it was required otherwise. Her depressed state had turned her into the compliant little mouse Wendy demanded. Meekly she followed Wendy downstairs and into the waiting car.

As the car swept along the road on the way to Wendy’s mansion Jen wondered what would happen next. Throughout the day there had been a ‘normal’ structure within which her relationship with Wendy had operated. A crucial question was what was to be expected now that they were out of the office, away from the possibility of public intrusion, and without the daily routine for distraction. Once they were in the mansion neither she nor Wendy would have work to do; how were they going to pass the time? Would she be confined to her cell or would she be Wendy’s plaything? She was certain that, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be any situation that might be described as ‘normal’.

Inevitably there was some confusion when they arrived at the mansion. Jen, not sure if she was supposed to enter through the front door with Wendy, or through the garage with Sally, chose the wrong one and stayed in the car. Wendy’s displeasure at having to call her was obvious. As they approached the front door it was opened by Juanita and Wendy breezed past, stopping only to hand over her briefcase but when Jen went to follow Juanita put out a hand to stop her.

“Clothes, please.”

Wendy turned back and gave Jen an exasperated look.

“Really, piglet. I know you’re new to this but do try and keep up. Oh, and cheer up a bit, you’ve a face like a wet Sunday.” She turned to Juanita. “I think that piglet needs some time to think things over, some basket time if you’d be so kind.”

As Wendy left Juanita turned to Jen with an expectant look. Jen realised that she was expected to undress, that was the only possible reason for her ‘Clothes, please’ request.  She took off her jacket and handed it over. Juanita’s expression showed that she was waiting for more so, for once, it seemed that Jen had got something right. As each garment came off Juanita took it and folded it neatly, laying it to one side. Once Jen was naked Juanita opened a cupboard next to the front door and, from in amongst the umbrellas and the like, fetched out a pair of leather cuffs which were linked together. With one swift movement she gathered Jen’s wrists behind her back and fastened the Velcro strips so they fitted snugly; Jen was so dispirited and apathetic that she put up no resistance and, when Juanita reached back into the cupboard for a leash, actually raised her chin to allow Juanita easier access to the collar.

With a gentle tug on the leash Juanita led her down a short corridor and then some stairs to the kitchen where, in a corner, there was a large dog basket. Jen glanced at Juanita who nodded; she didn’t need any further prompting, she now understood what ‘basket time’ meant and she knelt down in it allowing Juanita to attach the leash to a bracket fastened to the wall.

Knelt there, quite literally in the doghouse, Jen was completely despondent. It seemed that whatever she did she was lost. The way she was watched all the time, the way she was restrained, the filth on her PC and the threats of what would happen if she were to try running away all added up to eliminate any thoughts that escape was going to be easy or quick. Like it or not she was going to have to live with the regime imposed on her but, even when she’d tried to comply, it seemed that whatever she did was still wrong, that she still ended up, naked and chained like a dog for offences she wasn’t even aware of. The whole scenario was a nightmare, a nightmare with no end in sight. She could feel the tears welling up again…

“Hello, what have we here, is little piglet on the naughty step?” Sally had entered and, by the tone of her voice, was looking for fun, fun at Jen’s expense. She bent down a chucked Jen under the chin.

“Have you been a bad little piglet? Have you upset Madam? Are you in for a spanking later?” Sally’s knelt down so her face was close to Jen’s. “You’re bottom of the heap, do you know that. It’s not just Madam and Fran, you know; if I want to play with you then I can, and I will.”

Sally reached out and gripped Jen’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Slowly she started to squeeze and twist.

“Do you like that? Are you a pain slut? Does it make you damp between your thighs, dripping with excitement? Let’s have a look.” Sally knelt down next to Jen and reached down between her thighs with her other hand, cupping her pubic mound, probing inside with her fingers. “No, does nothing for you? Well, it turns me on.”

Sally twisted harder and Jen had to bite back a cry of pain. Despite her despondent mood something in Sally’s attitude had awoken Jen’s stubborn streak and she was determined not to give in too easily.

“Think you’re tough, do you?” Sally snarled as she gave another vicious twist.

“Tougher than you, bitch.” Jen hissed through the pain.

“We’ll see, won’t we.” This time Sally’s attack on Jen’s nipple was combined with a grab at her groin and Jen couldn’t hold back a strangled cry.

“Sal, Sal, What you do?” Juanita, disturbed by the noise had come over to see what was happening.

“Just playing, Nita, just playing.”

“You leave her alone. She new, she in enough trouble already. She don’t need you poking her titties.”

For a moment of two the two women stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills. However, despite the apparent mildness of Juanita it was Sally who backed down, Sally who withdrew and, muttering about getting her own back later, wandered off.

“You Ok?” Juanita hunkered down next to Jen and put her arms round her.

After all the hurts, after all the coldness, Juanita’s compassion cut through all Jen’s defences and the floodgates opened. She’d been bottling up all the fears, all the uncertainties, all the unknowns and she hadn’t had a single friendly voice all day. Now Juanita, with her broken English and strong Spanish accent, was offering sympathy and understanding and, moreover, had come to Jen’s rescue by driving Sally away. Jen slumped sideways and Juanita cuddled her to her breast, letting her cry, letting her have some time, letting her catch her breath.

“Juanita,” Jen sobbed, “I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I can take any more.”

“Shh, Shh, Chiquita, is no so bad. You see, you get used to it. That Sally, she just jealous that she no longer number one girl. When Mistress find out maybe you get to poke her titties, eh?”

“Oh, Juanita.” Jen sighed. “What am I to do?”

“Don’t worry. The Mistress, she like you, she like you very well, you’re her new special girl. Now I’ve got to cook so you just wait here and when the Mistress calls, it will be better, you’ll see.”

Juanita hugged her close and kissed the top of her head before getting up and returning to her pots and pans.

Jen, as far as she was able to, snuggled down in the basket; her mind raced, she definitely had plenty to think about. So Sally was jealous because she used to be Wendy’s ‘number one girl’, as Juanita had put it, and, apparently, Wendy ‘liked her very well’. Although Jen had seen little of no sign of this so far Juanita had spoken with a sincerity and conviction that weren’t easily dismissed. She was half asleep when Juanita returned and unfastened the leash.

“Come now. The Mistress, she ask for you.”

Juanita led Jen back upstairs and into the main living room. Wendy was stretched out on a sofa wearing a silk dressing gown. In one hand she had a file which she was studying, with the other she was helping herself to snacks off a tray placed on a table beside her. Juanita handed Wendy the leash and withdrew. Jen hardly needed prompting, she was getting the message and she knelt down next to the sofa.

“Ah, piglet,” Wendy smiled sweetly. “Come closer.”

Wendy tugged gently on the leash and drew Jen in until her head was resting on Wendy’s lap. Softly Wendy ran her fingers through Jen’s hair, stroked her cheek, caressed her brow.

“Poor little piglet, I guess it’s been quite a day for you, hasn’t it? So much to learn, so much to take in, but you’ve not done too badly, you just need to learn to keep focused. The sooner you learn to accept what you are the less you’ll need to be trained. Bad little piglets get punished, good little piglets get treats. Because you were such a good girl with Mr Hong I’ve decided that you can have hot water for your shower tomorrow, Ok?”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Talking of Mr Hong, you made quite an impression on the old fart. I’ve had his people on the phone asking if you were for sale. They made quite a decent offer. I was even tempted for a moment of two.”

“For sale, Mistress?” Jen was horrified. Could she be bought and sold like that?

“Oh, yes. As soon as Hong saw your collar he knew exactly what you were. That was part of the turn on for him, the fact that I was being so blatant about owning you, that I would bring my slave to such an important meeting. After that all he was thinking about was getting his dick in your mouth. Trust me, men, all men, are like that, ruled by their dicks. Find that weakness, play to it and they’re like putty.”

“How much…” Jen was still trying to get her head round the idea of people being bought and sold in this day and age.

“How much did he offer?” Wendy laughed. “Plenty, but don’t you worry your pretty little piglet head about it. You’re not for sale, well, not yet anyway. We’re going to have so much fun together, you and I, and that’s worth more than any cash offer that Hong might make. Now, you stop worrying about it and rest there for a while.”

With her head on Wendy’s lap, it was peaceful and soothing. Wendy went back to her file and nibbling on the snacks from the tray. Occasionally she would offer one of them to Jen. The comparison with a puppy was stronger and stronger, the collar, the leash, first confined to her basket, and now knelt at her Mistress’s lap accepting titbits from her hands; but for all that, after the turmoil of the day, this was peaceful and relaxing. Furthermore Wendy had admitted that she’d done well and that meant a lot, her efforts that afternoon had been appreciated and not just taken for granted.

The smooth, silky material of Wendy’s dressing gown was all that lay between Jen’s cheek and Wendy’s groin and, as Wendy reached for a different file from her briefcase beside her, her gown slipped open until there was a small triangle of bare flesh just in front of Jen’s lips. Without even thinking about what she was doing Jen rolled her head slightly and gently, very gently, kissed the exposed skin. There was no response from Wendy, but there was no admonishment either so she continued. Softly, like the fluttering of butterfly wings, her lips caressed Wendy’s stomach and, with each kiss, as her head moved, so the triangle opened until the lower bound was the edge of Wendy’s panties.

Wendy was still, apparently, reading her files but a rich warm perfume from her groin spoke of a different story. Jen ranged from side to side until, frustrated that the panties would not let her go lower, made the jump and moved to kissing the inner thighs. Wendy moved her outer leg until her foot was resting on the floor and Jen was now kneeling between her legs. Still keeping the kisses light and fluttery Jen explored the soft skin deep in Wendy's groin, her ears open for even the slightest bit of feedback. By now she had no thoughts as to whether what she was doing was demeaning or not, she could tell she was doing it well and was getting a rush from controlling Wendy’s body for a change. The musty perfume, and the damp patch on Wendy’s panties told their story, unbidden and unasked for Jen was pushing her towards an orgasm, an orgasm that Jen controlled.

In the end there was only so much of this teasing that Wendy would take and she put down her file, reached down and pulled the gusset of her panties to one side. As Jen probed with her tongue the rich, earthy taste of Wendy’s juices spoke of her arousal, how, even without direct contact, she was already fully turned on. Her clitoris, her swollen pea of pleasure, was projecting out, demanding attention, the time for subtlety over. Jen could build on what she had learnt earlier, how Wendy had liked direct stimulation, Jen’s tongue directly on her clitoris, and she set to work with a steady flick, flick, flick. Wendy tensed, almost lifting her buttocks off the sofa as she pushed her groin towards Jen, who responded by upping the intensity, whilst still keeping the steady tempo.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s good, that’s good, oh my God, that’s so good…” Wendy was babbling, almost incoherent as the wave within her built and built. She was beginning to writhe about and Jen was having problems following her but she was determined to stay the course. Wendy crested a wave, tensing then relaxing, but it was far from over, there were bigger, stronger waves to come. Time and time again each mini climax came and went until Jen felt her go rigid, every muscle locked. Keeping the rhythm, the steady unstoppable rhythm, her tongue pushed against Wendy’s clitoris again and again and again until, suddenly Jen’s mouth filled, Wendy gave a massive groan, thrashed once, thrashed twice, pushed Jen away and went limp.

For five long minutes both women could do nothing but lie there, one on the sofa, one on the floor, panting exhaustedly. Jen smiled to herself, she knew she had just given Wendy an orgasm above and beyond the everyday, it wasn’t much but it was a power she had over her, a power she could use. She wasn’t sure how, she wasn’t sure when, but, one day, she would use it.

“Oooh, piglet, where did you learn to do that?” Wendy was recovering her senses.

“Nowhere, Mistress.” Jen replied.

“Come here, come up here on the sofa.” Wendy moved away from the edge of the sofa and indicated that Jen should lie down beside her. Her dressing gown was now wide open and, as the two women lay together they were face to face, breast to breast, groin to groin, warm flesh to warm flesh. Jen found it hard to balance with her wrists still locked behind her back but Wendy held her tight and stopped her from falling.

“You’re a naughty piglet, you know that?” Wendy whispered between kisses.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

“I didn’t say you could do that, did I?”

“No, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress.”

“But I might just let you off this time.”

Any possible reply was quashed by Wendy’s kiss, and, side by side on the sofa, the two women lay, their bodies locked together, relaxing together until it was time for bed and Wendy rang for Juanita to take Jen back to her room.