Working Away

By RopeBinder

Part I…Lunch

It was a busy week, a busy workweek, yet he'd set time aside to meet her. Now back at his office, a million things to do, he sat, thinking...daydreaming. He should have been concentrating on something else, but his attention wavered. Images flashed before him, her smile when they first met, black knee-highs gripping her lower thighs, her expression as he playfully grabbed a chunk of her hair. It was no use. He worked halfheartedly.

Their time had been brief, two hours to be exact. Halfway through lunch, rain attacked the window behind them. What did it mean? Death in fiction, but not this time. It meant something else. He wasn't sure. Conversation was pleasant, tight yet easy, passing over subjects uncommon with the lunch crowd. They talked, at times nervous of eavesdropping ears and at other times not caring. Her smile came easily. Her gestures told him what she wanted, what she was hoping he'd see, but unfamiliarity kept them distant. This would take time.

Their goodbye was cute and uncomfortable. She tried to duck out, but he called her back, wanting another look at her tiny frame dressed in black. They smiled, embraced and pecked each other, destiny unknown.

Sliding into her leather car seat, he challenged, "Raise your skirt."

She smiled sassily, "No."

He smiled again. He expected her to fight. That was her nature, a fighter, 5'2" of feisty determination. Perhaps she thought he didn't understand. He was difficult to read. He was mysterious. They would be marvelous together.

The next day, he picked up the phone and asked her to meet him. She didn't know why she agreed. She needed time to think, but she was drawn. A magnet pulled her. Two hours later, they stood toe to toe.

"You want to fight with me, don't you?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, taken by surprise.

"You know exactly what I mean," he countered, "You want me to take you, to brandish my desire for you."

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "I'm still uneasy about things, our common ground, your needs."

"Nonsense," he quipped, "only two things matter...our desires and how we funnel them."

He reached for the nape of her neck, caressing it with his fingers, playing with the tiny hairs draping her skin. He caught her eyes with his...both frozen. He slowly gathered her hair in his hand, some in his palm, some tangled with his fingers. Improving his grip on her mane, they breathed quicker now.

"Let's be clear," he whispered, "I don't expect you to come willingly, but I know your desire. Our arrangement will be flexible. I care not if one day you're the willing submissive and the next you're a feisty opponent, but understand that the result will always be the same. You will be mine. Do you understand?"

She said nothing. With playful anger in her eyes, she tried to spin from his grasp, but he tightened it.

"This will get as rough as you want," he continued, "I hope we don't come to blows. I don't want to get hurt," he smiled, knowing her vicious uppercut, "but I will defend myself and in the end, you will lose."

His smile softened her. She smiled, but still tried to break free. He pulled her closer, as much to protect himself as to feel her beating heart. Tugging her hair downward, he exposed her neck. He thought briefly of vampires and bent his lips to her flesh. She smelled fresh...womanly. He sucked her through his nostrils, then his lips, finally chewing on her neck, letting her know the possibilities. With a surprising toss by her hair, he threw her to the floor. Caught off guard, she landed in a heap, legs and arms pointing different directions.

"Sara, I will often give you choices," he said with a serious tone, "Each option will typically end in the same result, but I will let you choose the method or path. I will do this to measure how deeply your needs run, but sometimes it's purely for my amusement. For instance, right now, I want you to remove your clothing...ALL OF IT. If you're reluctant, I will assist you. If your mood is stubbornness, I will cut them from you, although it pains me to think of ruining your outfit."

She sat motionless. She didn't know what to say or if she was ready. They'd only met yesterday. "Why is he doing this?" she thought, "Why must I leave my comfort zone now?" She was paralyzed.

He went to the chair and waited. Several minutes of silence passed. Then she rose and delicately shed her clothing. She stood before him, hands in front, covering herself, shortened breath, chest slightly heaving, nipples tightly knotted, nervousness pervading. He loved this moment, the exhilaration of anxiousness. She loved it also. He sat a moment longer. In silence he drank in his first gaze at her flesh. His desire mounted. He called inside himself for control. He rose and walked behind her.

"Hold still," he said reaching around her body. With the slightest touch, his fingers traced along her upper thighs and across her stomach, then over her breasts and tightened nipples. He rested his hands near her neck, on her collarbone.

"Are you excited?" he whispered, just wanting her hear her answer.

"Yes," she exhaled.

"Good," he whispered, directly into her ear.

His fingers continued exploring. He closed his eyes wanting to know her body. This was the first step. Their breathing collaborated. His chest and stomach pressed against her back. She nestled her head to his chest. They floated away before he stopped and backed away. Now he stood in front of her. Tipping her chin to his, faces inches apart, he spoke.

"I want to kiss you, but that will wait. I want to whip you, but you're not ready," he stared into her eyes, "First, we'll test your desires, a simple test. It will go on as long as you tell me. The difficulty is that your words will be meaningless. Come...I'll show you."

He sat on the edge of the bed and with a gesture and a firm grip on her wrists pulled her over his thighs. Her chest and stomach supported her weight on him. With his left arm, he held her shoulders tightly to his thigh. Her arms and legs dangled freely.

He continued, "I enjoy spanking, but in my mind, it doesn't compare to whipping. I find whips more versatile and more fun, but spanking provides an intimacy that's difficult to duplicate. My hand against your bottom will give me a better feel for your desires and limitations. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jeffrey." It was the first time she'd spoken his name.

"I believe that thresholds are difficult to discuss," he said. "Pain clouds the mind, but never the senses. Irrelevancies and mirages can be mistaken for reality. I believe there is nothing your words can tell me that your body can't tell me more accurately. Am I being clear?"

"I'm not sure...I think so," she said with apprehension.

"For example, I'll stop spanking you intermittently. It will give you a reprieve and a moment for me to examine your needs. During each pause, I will dip my fingers into your pussy. If you're dry, we'll stop. If you're wet, we'll continue until my hand tires. Is this acceptable?"

Pausing briefly, Sara murmured, "Yes, Jeffrey," but she knew her fate. He hadn't touched her and her pussy was drenched. Had he opened her flowered lips, she was certain her fluids would stream to the floor. She closed her eyes and waited, amazed at how differently she saw him than 24 hours ago.

Part II…The Spanking

It always amazed him that no matter how shapely a woman's behind, it's beauty was enhanced tenfold when draped over his thighs. It felt natural and uncontrollable to stoke and brush her bottom with the palm of his hand. He thought of forcing her thighs apart slightly, but decided against it. Her clenched thighs were her mask hiding her wetness. He would let her part them when she was ready.

She hadn't anticipated that he'd start out so briskly. Perhaps she thought a warming up period was in order. The first sting of his hand shook her. Each stroke seemed stronger than the last, but it wasn't. The sensation was caused by the increasing redness and blood flow in her bottom. By the time he reached ten strokes, palm prints painted her backside.

She'd kept still and silent mostly. Her desire to show her toughness impressed him. He massaged her redness before touching her swollen opening. Two fingers stroked her lips, and she cooed. Gently prying them apart, he discovered what he already knew. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, pressing against her belly. He thought he felt her squirm to touch it with her stomach, but he wasn't sure. "Enough of this childish pleasuring," he thought and continued the spanking.

At some point he lost track of the count. His hand swelled and matched the color of her bright pink bottom. He slowed his strokes, grabbing handfuls of flesh. The grabbing provided no physical relief, but the mingled throbbing of his hand and her behind excited him. She parted her legs, now barely fitting on his right thigh. He took the invitation and twisted his strokes, slapping her pussy and asshole. He held her shoulder blades tightly with his left arm, but she bucked wildly anyway. Sex permeated the room.

"Tell me what you want, Sara."

"I don't know what you mean," she whimpered.

"I'm tired of your games. I want to know what you're thinking at this moment. I want you to quit pretending that you're some high-class executive that needs to fit your next orgasm into your busy schedule. Tell me what you want!"

"I want to cum…" she whispered.

"Then ask...ask for what you want."

She paused, but he waited. "Please...Jeffrey...make me cum."

He paused longer, "I want you to cum, Sara, but I have a condition."

"Anything."

"If I do this for you, you belong to me. Know fully what that means and choose wisely."

Their silence was tense, but her answer unwavering, tough as she was, "Yes, Jeffrey. I understand. God I want to cum...pleeeaaasssee."

"As you wish, my love."

And he stroked her hood gently, tracing his fingertips along its edges, then along its length, brushing her swollen knob with each stroke. At first he was amazed and distracted by her wetness, then he reveled in it pressing deeply inside her with his thumb and brushing her clit with his fingertips. Bending at his waist, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. Then breathing lightly into her ear, he asked her to cum for him. Eventually, she did, with such force that he had to hold her tightly to keep her from falling.

Panting and baked with sweat, she gathered herself and climbed to straddle his thighs. With a hungry look, she pushed her hands against his shoulders until she toppled him onto the bed. She gripped her arms around his neck tightly and drove her tongue into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her midsection and savored her taste. A simple kiss that turned seconds into minutes and then longer. He caressed her back and behind, soothing her pain with his aching hands. Their adventure had just begun.

Part III…Understanding

Not long into their delicious kiss, Sara felt Jeffrey's arousal pressing into her belly. Her seductive slide across his chest and hips was prolonging the arousal, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw a detached, observant gaze. He was hard, but not lost in her charms. To entice him, she playfully reached between his legs, unzipped his jeans and encircled his cock with her warm fingers. "Come on sweetheart, your turn," and she maneuvered his bruised tip toward her parted legs.

With discipline and a bit of regret, Jeffrey pushed her back, took firm hold of her wrists and sat himself upright. "I will decide when it is time for us to cum, not you. Do you understand? When you are with me, I will be the one who allows you pleasure. When you want to cum receives little sympathy, although I derive tremendous enjoyment from your need." He got up and walked into the dimly lit bathroom. Sara could see his reflection in the glass as he closed his eyes, ran his fingers down the damp hair on his chest and began to stroke himself. She watched in amazement, as he chose his own hand over her pussy. She had no response except to observe in wonder as he groaned at the pleasure that shot out the end of his cock.

Jeffrey slowly cleaned himself. It had taken all of his willpower to push her off him and walk into the bathroom. God, he hated not to indulge himself in her warmth and flesh. It was a pity. But he needed to play the chess game several moves ahead in his mind. Tonight's small sacrifice would serve him well. All his creativity and cleverness would be required to keep her mind engaged.

To be controlled and at the whim of a man was not her usual position. In past experiences, she had always found it very easy to back men into a corner, to control the pace and timing of relationships. Rarely, if ever, was she surprised. She often amused herself by toying with the behaviors and egos of men she encountered. She wondered if this man was different...how different...would he change her thinking?

He walked back into the bedroom and extended his hand. He helped her off of the bed and gathered her clothing. With very little conversation he assisted her dressing. With every question she began, he placed his finger to her lips, a request for silence. He walked her to the door and chastely kissed her good bye. "Sara, I will call for you soon." And with that he left her perplexed and questioning, standing blankly in the middle of the hallway. She now wanted him more than she had ever wanted a man. She could not wait until he called and she wanted to know everything about this strange man and his game.

The next day at work was a test of facade for Sara. A dozen red roses were delivered in the middle of her staff meeting, she was annoyed at the distraction and saw the winks and smiles from her co-workers. She hated them knowing anything about her personal life. "Aren't you going to open the card?" " Who are they from?" When she read the tiny card inserted into the bouquet, her body temperature flushed. "The color of these roses can only come close to the shade of red left on your beautiful bottom last night." She was inflamed.

Later that afternoon her secretary placed a box on her desk. It was wrapped in the distinctive signature color from Ivy's, an upscale lingerie store. She pushed the box under her desk and opened it after she was alone. The card lying on the tissue read, "I look forward to freeing you from this later tonight."

She pulled the paper aside to look at an old fashioned, golden cream satin, thickly boned corset, something like her grandmother might have worn. It was heavy with lots of straps and hooks and designed to keep everything from shaking. On an old woman the outfit might look comical, on her it would look outstanding.

The garment was not what she had expected. She had never worn and certainly never needed anything so binding. She was indignant that he would ask her to wear it. He couldn't possibly think that get-up was sexy?

The receptionist rang her later in the day. "Sara, I have a message from a Mr. Jeffrey."

"Oh my God, what now?" she thought.

"He said that a driver will pick you up at 7:00 p.m. to bring you to dinner. He wants you to wear what he sent this afternoon. Does that make any sense, Sara?"

"Yes, thank you." and she hung up quickly. He really had a lot of nerve intruding in her work place. It undercut her authority. She assured herself that she would let him know, in no uncertain terms, that his behavior was unacceptable. But anger aside, she was still curious. She wouldn't miss meeting him.

She stepped out of the tub and did her hair and make-up. She enjoyed the ritual. It was 6:30 and it was time to get into the corset. It took close examination to figure out what went where as she laced the ties and fastened the dozens of eyehooks. She had to inhale sharply to close the final hooks. He had misguessed her size by one. The bone stays forced her back ramrod straight and nipped her waist uncomfortably. The heavy elastic pressed on her stomach and molded her breasts, the flesh swelled over the top of the demi-cups. She was accustomed to high cut bikinis briefs that felt like feathers and was surprised at the tight pressure exerted as the snug fabric pulled over her waist, ass, hips and finally ended like a 1950s bathing suit across her upper mid thigh. It was a Lycra squeeze and heavy, but as she looked at herself in the mirror she had to admit, there was a certain fetish genius in his selection. She was a 1990s muscle buffed Rita Hayworth. "Not bad, Jeffrey."

The driver maneuvered through town to her dinner destination. He said nothing, except to ask her if she wanted a different music selection. She declined. She didn't hear the music anyway. The corset was a distraction. It cut into her waist and rubbed under her armpit.

When they neared the restaurant, the driver slowed and turned to hand her a slim box. "These are from Jeffrey. You will want to wear them later. They may prevent your wrists from chaffing, if you struggle against the ropes."

She was mute with indignity at this stranger who was more aware of her evening than she. None the less, she fingered the cream, elbow length evening gloves that felt smooth and elegant to the touch. She tucked them into her purse as she left the car.

Jeffrey was waiting at the table as she made her way to him. He stood and met her half way, greeting her with a radiant smile. "You look beautiful, sweetheart." He handed her a single blood red rose and winked. Ignoring the diners around him who might be watching, his hand cupped her still sore ass and he pulled her to him to meet with a kiss. He worked his hand up the back of her dress feeling the corset. "You look stunning, thank you for wearing my gift. How do you feel?"

The day's humiliation spit out, "How do I feel? My behind is still throbbing. You embarrassed me at work. I'm pinched in this heavy girdle and that damned driver of yours must have thought I was a whore. That's how I feel." She pouted trying to regain some footing.

Jeffrey's smile faded. "Stop whining, it doesn't flatter you, besides, you have nothing to protest yet. This is what I have selected for you, they are my requests of you. Let's enjoy our meal. I want to share your company and watch you dine." Her grievance had little effect on him.

The dinner passed quickly as it typically would with any two people newly taken with each other. She kept suspicion in check waiting for innuendo or surprise. It never came. He was entranced by her subtle shifting to unobtrusively find a comfortable position in what he knew must be a rather stiff under garment. He smiled when she reached to pay the bill and nodded to her. If it gave her a shred of superiority, it would be false and short-lived.

They returned to his home and sat on the sofa drinking a glass of wine.

"Listen Jeffrey, we really need to talk. Last night when you...spanked me," she had trouble with the word, "and today...this corset and all...I'm not really into all of this. It's not me. I don't want to give you the idea that I think what you did was right or the way I'm used to being treated...I don't..."

He took her hair so swiftly that it cut her off in mid sentence. "Sara, do not try to impress me with dignified back peddling. You might need to play the part during the day, that's your affair, but I felt how you soaked yourself. I heard you plead and I saw the desperation in your eyes when I left you last night. And don't forget that you agreed to an oral contract. I let you cum, and now you are mine. That was your choice."

"I was never one much for lawyers but perhaps it would be appropriate to remind you that an oral contract is binding. And possession is 9/10th of the law."

Jeffrey stood and took her wineglass. He drew her from the seat and firmly held her hands. He examined her slim wrists and then turned them over to admire the pale underside. "If you have the gloves I sent you, now would be a good time to put them on."

"And Sara, in case you feel the need to play a part, I must share with you, that while I admire and understand your pride, there is no reward for dignity in my bed. There will be no need for dignity while you are with me."

When the leather cuffs were locked on to her gloved wrists, she closed her eyes and fought the urge to flee, she had seconds to change her mind but elected not to. "This is against all good judgment, but damn, I can already feel the heat between my legs." She could not, would not retreat.

He had done this before but was always in awe of a first session. It was like lucid dreaming or staring in your own fantasy. He would savor each reflex, sound and reaction that passed her limbs. He was not without reflexes of his own significance, but his time would come later. He slowly pulled her arms behind her back and anchored the cuffs to each other. Next he secured her wrists to a short rope tied to a post at the foot of his bed. She had a short lead but some distance to move.

"I treasure this time of exploration, the chance to know how your body reacts to me and my touch. I was surprised that you withstood so many swats last night, but then again, perhaps I should not have been. You are too proud to ask for any mercy. And I am too experienced to show you any. Your pussy gave you away, anyhow. We will continue to find out how badly you want to please me."

A thin moan, perhaps of panic, escaped her lips as he covered her eyes with a tight blindfold. He placed a kiss on her lips as he stepped away. She reached forward to him, eager for his reassurance and touch. He was her captor, her safe haven. She was concerned but also needed him for her every breath. As she reached the end of her rope, her arms pulled back behind her and thrust her chest out further. He stood back to admire. "I'll have to confess, you look even better than I imagined in the corset. I could look at you like this, for hours, but I have other things in mind." While the corset afforded her some degree of modesty and cover, her increasingly heavy breathing was becoming painful, she had to regulate her intake with small expansions of her ribs. But even in the midst of blindfolded darkness, she wished she could see herself, she knew she looked good.

While it had taken her 15 minutes to get into the corset, it dropped around her ankles in seconds. She took a free deep breath and felt cooler air wash over her moist skin. He examined the red creases and marks where the garment left its impression. She had gone from compressed to exposed in a blink.

"Are you sore from last night?" he asked, reaching to caress her bottom. She squirmed and nodded yes.

"But if I asked you, you would turn around and present your ass to me for more of the same?"

"God, not again, please no," she thought, sheepishly nodding her head.

"Turn around, Sara."

She started shaking and a whimper pierced the room.

"Turn around! Do it now!"

She turned her back to him. The rope crossing her shoulders held her arms tight to her side with her chest pressed to he bedpost. Her legs were trembling.

He watched her shaking back and could smell the sweat of her fear. It was incredible what she would do for him.

After a minute he spoke, "Very good, Dear. I don't want your ass tonight but it was important that you complied. Turn and face me."

Her reprieve was short lived but the focus took a different turn as Jeffrey cupped her breast and forcefully pulled a nipple into his mouth working the flesh into a firm tip. He moved to the other and did the same. He opened the mouth of the clamps and in a sure motion, attached them to the rose colored flesh that housed more nerve ending than any other place on her body except her clit. She jumped at the sudden sensation, the unfamiliar surprise. It would take a few minutes for the full effect of the clips to work their way into her skin and grow in intensity. She waited in a frozen state while he tied a satin cord to the center of the chain connecting the two nipples.

Jeffrey crossed the room and pulled a chair about four feet away from her. She heard him sit. If she thought distance meant relief, she was wrong.

As the clamps dug in, Sara wondered if the feeling would plateau or increase. Would she loose feeling or would it magnify? In a short time she knew the answer, increase and magnify. Her hands gripped the bedpost behind her, a pathetic substitute for biting the bullet but at least it offered some support.

He remained quietly seated, watching and she waited trying to gain mind control over her hot nipples.

Suddenly she felt a quick tug on the chain and she gasped at the sharp bite. Jeffrey had the satin cord between his fingers and had finally decided to activate his link to her nerves. The puppet master wanted to see her dance. Again he gave a quick pull and she grunted at the jolt.

"Do you want to kiss me, Sara?"

"Yes."

"Let's see how badly you want it."

Jeffrey pulled the cord taut and exerted steady pressure. The nipple chain pulled and he could see the effect it had on stretching her skin. She leaned forward and took a short step toward him to relieve the burn in his pull. He wrapped the slack around his hand and kept up the pressure. She was forced to come even closer or endure the pain. As he continued to reel her in, the wrist rope behind her tightened, pulling her arms behind her. He guessed she could only come forward another 12 inches or so before the stop point in her shoulders reached its limit. He wanted to see how she would handle this dilemma.

She was well aware of the forces at play, the ache in her arms versus the pull on her nipples. "Please Jeffrey, enough."

"Enough? You disappoint me, Sara. I thought you would go at least THIS far for me." And he pulled her further toward him. Her nipples screamed as she took a last tiny step to ease the tension but she discovered her shoulders now took the full brunt of the agony. Yet he did not slack the cord. He let her hold for a minute to regroup and then one more slight pull. That pull was enough to bring a genuine moan. She bent her back and leaned forward the last three inches her body could go. She was taut and balanced on the edge of control. Sweat broke out on her forehead and Jeffrey watched her twisted face, just inches form his. She was lost inside her mind and fought to hold herself together. Her concentration was singular. He held the cord carefully but firmly in front of her chest and rose to place his mouth next to her ear. She held perfectly still, barely able to take a breath for fear of sending shock waves through her breasts.

"I could hold you here like this all night, if I chose to," he whispered. She nodded and pushed out a groan.

With his free hand, he reached behind her and felt the liquid silk that had coated her inner thighs. "Unbelievable," he thought.

"I know that you must be uncomfortable and I think your arms hurt more than your nipples, but you have said very little. Are you worried about losing your dignity?"

She did not respond.

"I asked you a question and you WILL answer me." His next tug released her.

She screamed at the sensation, the swell of her clit, his close voice in her ear, the helpless situation and the fireworks in her nipples exploded every trace of willpower. "No dignity," she pleaded. "Let me go, let me cum for you, anything you want..." She was panting and he could hear the desperation. She was close to the end.

"Would you suck me off?" "Yes"

"Would you let me whip you?" "Yes"

"Would you let me fuck you?" "Anything," she pleaded.

"Do you want me?" "Uh huh"

"Do you need this?" "Yes"

"Do you need me?" "Oh god, yes."

"Are you ready to cum?" "Please, yes, please please please..." said her fading voice.

"God, you are beautiful and I want you, too."

Jeffrey dropped the cord and untied the rope, but did not take off the blindfold. He swiftly pushed her back on the bed and hungrily fed on her lips. She pressed her hips forward into him and returned his kiss with passion. With urgency that had built over the last few days, he guided his stiff cock into her and lost himself in the glorious warm wet world between her legs. It was only an instant before she broke into a sob as her orgasm, that had been building all day, finally shuddered to life. He held her tightly as he arched his back and drove forward with his own mind-blowing release. It was a pain of incredible delight. He kept his eyes closed as he suffered through the brilliant aftershocks that rolled through his cock. They were both spent.

Jeffrey rolled off of her stomach and smiled as he brushed the hair out of her face. "You were magnificent, darling. Thank you." She gratefully returned the smile.

"There is just one final thing I need to do," he said as he lowered down her belly ending with his mouth near her nipple. "This may sting a bit," he started to reach for the clamp, "but these really do need to come off now. I'll help you through it." Jeffrey deftly removed the clamp and instantly locked his mouth onto her nipple to pull away the shock as she arched her back and howled at the rushing blood flooding her nipples. He held her tight as she struggled against him with a sudden burst of strength.

"You fucking bastard," she roared. He smiled, without his lips leaving her stinging flesh. She was a handful.

When this task was complete, he gathered her into his arms, held her tightly, kissed the nape of her neck and began to massage her shoulders.

"Sara, that was really no way to talk to me," he chuckled. "Now that you have shed your pride, tomorrow we will work on your manners. I think we'll start with please and thank you."

Copyright © 1995 by RopeBinder. All rights reserved.

Do not reprint or post without permission.

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