Six foot four inches and two hundred pounds. That's what Westin had measured in at when he left the gym locker room that morning. He was thirty-three years old, and had recently taken an interest in how much of an effect gravity has on him. By this evening he would only measure six foot three and a half inches.

Statistics like this weighed heavily on his mind. He had graduated Stanford with a B.S. in statistics, and a minor in finance. Statistics were always in his head. It wasn't a curse, more of a blessing. He was a major up and comer at the firm, as a broker. Several of the portfolios he managed were among company's largest. All of his portfolios owed at least 30% of their value to his shrewd statistical mind, and recently the firm's absolute largest account had asked specifically to be put under his management.

The account move had provided him with a partnership. He had paid for the partnership by selling a good portion of his own personal portfolio, but the raise he had gleaned from the situation was worth it. He had gone from a good one hundred and fifty thousand a year, to a stunning six hundred thousand a year as well as a sizeable bonus based on his account's performance.

He had sat on the first year's bonus of one million just to see seven digits in his bank account. This last year though when his second bonus arrived he was perplexed. The job had taken a toll on his health. His fingernails were gnawed into nubs, he ground his teeth day and night, and he didn't have the stamina to run up two flights of stairs.

The gym had been his first attempt. He thought the exertion would let him dump off the stress. But it hadn't worked. He tried dating, but the women either couldn't hold his interest, or they couldn't keep up with him intellectually.

One night he couldn't sleep and found himself staring at a premium cable channel show about sex in reality. It showed a couple it dubbed as “Goths” the man was pouring hot wax on his woman, and she was enjoying it. Westin found himself with a raging hard on almost at once, and as soon as the show completed he pulled his laptop out and pursued their actions on the Internet. His love affair with Bondage and S&M was immediate. He had to tell his secretary to cancel all of his meetings the following day so he could catnap in his office. The fetish sites had kept him up until the sun came up.

He started ordering bondage gear two days later. Westin found that he could play with the leather and the buckles and locks for hours. The smell was intoxicating, and the feel was pure pleasure. He needed a subject though; it was rather empty without a subject.

This was about two months ago, and recently his boss Senior partner Barry J. Roberts, had entered his office with a stern yet distressing look on his face. Barry was a rotund man in his late fifties; he took Westin's career seriously and had acted very protective of the younger man's future.

“Wes, your bonus accounts are untouched.” Barry challenged.

“I guess that means you disapprove.” Westin muttered.

“You have to do something with the money Wes, do you have any ideas?”

“None at all to be honest I enjoy knowing I have the money too much to spend it.”

“That's no good Wes, you cant just leave the money to accumulate, it's not in your best interest, and it's not in the firm's either can you imagine if a client found out you refuse to invest your own money?”

Westin rolled this around his head for a second…. the boss had a good point.

“Suggestions Barry?”

Barry stood tall for a moment.

“You can't go to stocks. I know you and if you put that kind of money into the market there's no way you would be able to leave it alone.”

“Okay….”

“I think you should go with real estate, get a bunch of rental properties or a condo complex or something.”

“Sounds fine. I can let the housing market and the renters grow the money for me.”

“Just get on it please before it embarrasses the firm.”

That conversation had set the house of cards that was his life tumbling without any sort of warning at all. Westin had wandered down two floors from the thirty first floor, where his office was to the companies mortgage brokerage. He had fully intended to take his lunch by inviting the junior partner in mortgage to eat and discuss the options available to him.

He never made it to the man's office though. Half way through the immense cubicle farm on the twenty ninth floor, he had stopped dead in his tracks. She was stunning. He had neither been looking at anyone, or expecting to see anyone in the cubicles, but his eyes had defied him and sought her out. She was not heart stopping, or drop dead sexy. She was rather young, perhaps twenty-five, and not in very good shape. He knew when she stood up that she would have the pear shaped body so typical of women in America. He could see that she was wearing a tweed business skirt and jacket with a pale blue blouse underneath. He wanted to see her real underclothes, wanted to see her ass, which he knew, had to be round and squashy. But her physical attributes were not what were drawing him in. Her actions were. She never looked up. Her eyes were hesitant and wary. In a mortgage sales position she would rely on cold calling to make her sales, but she didn't. Instead she worked furiously on the few contracts sitting on her desk. She behaved in a timid sheepish manner that he could not get enough of. The plastic nameplate on her cubicle wall read “Christine March”

Apparently he had lost track of time, an executive management type was now standing in front of him. The man was unknown to Westin, and his demeanor reeked of kiss ass.

“Sir may I be of some assistance?”

“No, I have found the loan officer I was looking for thank you.”

“Sir you've been standing there for quite a while perhaps a cup of coffee in my office, and I can help you with whatever you need.”

The man's voice was nasal and grated the sides of Westins ears each time he spoke.”

“Perhaps I have already found the officer I am searching for, thank you.” His tone was complete; leaving no interpretation save that he was done dealing with the peon. The man shrank like a wilting flower and disappeared into the maze of cubicles.

Astonishingly this had awoken Christine from her dream trance of a workday.

The woman had snapped her head upward, but her eyes remained in the cubicle.

She's examining the room with her peripheral vision…afraid to make eye contact

Westin was now fully engaged in the woman. A new idea formed in his head and he stalked over to her cubicle. Using the arrogance of executive power he sat in one of the two uncomfortable chairs by her modular desk.

Finally she looked at him. Her eyes were green, and the red hair she kept at neck length framed her face defensively.

“Sir, may I help you?” She almost squeaked but the words settled into a sweet tone mid sentence as she grabbed control of her voice. The “Sir” had almost shot out of her mouth…. He loved every syllable. Trying to control his own thoughts into coherence he spoke.

“I need a new home. Therefore I need a new home loan. I would like approval to purchase a home in the one and a half million range; I will be putting one third down. Thus I will need a loan of one million.”

She paled a bit. He noted quickly that it was not the numbers, but the interaction that caused it.

“Maybe one of the more experienced people would be better suited sir?”

This time all words were fluid, and there was even a bit of hope he would see her logic in the voice.

“Nonsense, Ms March I walked through this office and you are the only one dutifully doing their job while everyone else gabs on the phone.”

He knew it was a ludicrous statement, but once again found himself using his station in the company to get his way.

It was a long ten or fifteen seconds before she slightly nodded and acquiesced to his comments.

“Of course sir, I will assist you in getting the funds.”

“Excellent I will call personnel and have them make my information available to you immediately. Assess the situation, and call my secretary in the morning to schedule a meeting to go over it with me. Here the direct extension to her desk, and if you need any direction to the office she'll provide them.”

He scribed a four-digit extension on her post it note pad, and stood. With out another word or look he walked away. As he moved to the elevator he took off his suit jacket and folded it on his forearms in front of him to conceal his erection.

He spent the evening imagining her naked ass and back. When he woke to the alarm he rode a strong wave of energy through his morning routine and to the office. At nine o five his secretary advised him that Ms March had called and would like to meet with him at eleven thirty. He gave his agreement to the speakerphone, and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. She had called immediately when the office opened for the day, and obviously had her things together. His erection returned. He took care of it in his washroom, and made phone calls to clients until eleven thirty.

Promptly at eleven thirty his secretary opened the door and announced

“Ms March and Mr. Rivisi to see you.”

Mr. Rivisi?? Who the hell was this? The nasally suck up strolled in to the office with Ms March at his heels.

That figures, this jackass obviously enjoys touting his position over her, and I managed to need the girl who works for him.

His thoughts got venomous and he spoke slowly and purposefully.

“Ms March did my secretary not provide you good information on the location of my office.”

The jackass spoke in her place. Westin did not like it and felt the hairs on his neck rising.

“I figured as Ms March's supervisor I should attend to ensure your satisfaction.”

B.S. you wanted to come to the thirty first floor, and be seen, and you wanted to try and impress me.

“I see, have there been any problems with Ms March's transactions?”

The man faltered slightly

“No sir”

Westin now smiled.

“Well then relax, and return to your desk knowing that I will inform you the instant I am feeling even slightly mistreated. I will of course advise Mr. Waterson of the excellent customer service I am sue to receive in you and your staff's hands.”

Dropping the name of the senior partner over the man solidified the man's idea of a successful encounter and he warmed to the idea of leaving.

After he shut the door to the office on his way out Westin smiled broadly.

“Your promptness if flattering Ms March. I wasn't expecting a response until this time much less a meeting. Have a seat.”

He indicated a leather couch on the wall.

“Thank you sir.”

“May I have some coffee or tea brought in?”

She slightly moved her head from side to side.

“That won't be necessary sir.”

Over the next month and a half he met with her weekly to discuss his funding. In the meantime he met with a real estate agent specializing in high-end housing. The agent helped him find a five thousand square foot Victorian, in a secure gated community. The house was stunning, but he found the space rather empty. It had a good basement. That he filled with his toys. He had been buying them the entire time. They intoxicated him still, and he longed to use them on Christine.

Once he was moved in he acted on his feelings. He called Christine up to his office saying he would like to thank her. She still acted meek around him, and he loved it. She had no idea of his interest in her and that he had bought a large house for the basement, and the chance to develop a rapport with her.

His secretary announced her ten minutes later, and Christine entered alone wearing a black cotton skirt and jacket. Her rear was prominent to him, and he thought she wore her extra weight well. He wondered if heavier women could take more of a beating than thinner women. There was no reference for him, all of his toys had been completely unused, and he had never known any activity in the lifestyle he longed for.

“Ms March,”

He hesitated. The statement had been in his head for weeks. But would not come out easily.

“Christine, I want you to have dinner with me.”

She was now stunned. It hung on her for a minute.

“S…Sir, I'm not sure that would be appropriate.”

“I want to thank you, and can think of no better way than to do so personally.”

He chose that moment to run roughshod over the encounter.

“Your services have been invaluable, and I owe you. I'll pick you up from your home Friday night at seven. Dress is formal.”

The eyes told the battle in her head. She lamented for a bit then agreed. He spent the remainder of the week looking forward to it.

When Friday came he left the office early and began preparing the meal. He had bought wine especially for the occasion, and had bought the rack of lamb directly from the butcher on his way home. Six o-clock rang out on the grandfather clock he had purchased for his entry hall, and he placed the lamb in the oven to keep. He showered briefly to refresh his cleanliness, and donned his Hugo boss tuxedo. He moved through his new, large walk-in closet, and selected a maroon bowtie. The last action before switching off the lights was to snap on the clasp of his Tag watch. Tonight it was important to him to seem more than her. He wanted her to feel his superiority from the moment she laid eyes on him.

His five-year-old BMW 5 series pulled into her apartment complex precisely at seven. He knocked on the door to her unit five minutes later. Christine answered the door in a flowing simple black dress with black tights barely visible in the small gap between the hem of the dress and her simple black shoes with their slight heel.

Westin beamed when he saw her and his cock stirred with anticipation.

“You look great.”

“Thank you I'm glad you found the place without trouble.”

“I used to have a place near here when I was an assistant broker.”

In the parking lot he held the door to the BMW open for her and hoped to get a better view of her tights. She was not helpful backing into the seat with her hands firmly on her dress, and quickly swinging her feet into the car. Westin took a moment to admire her neck and small pearl earrings that were visible since she had pulled her rust colored hair into a bun. He took note of her detached earlobes as he quietly shut the door.

Silently they rode back to the house, and when the driveway appeared in the headlights she spoke.

“Are we going to your home”? It was a nervous question.

“Yes I wanted you to see the results of your labors. I'm actually a decent cook. I don't think you'll be disappointed.” The words seemed to calm her a bit.

He left the car on the drive in front of the double doors of the house. Then he went to the passenger side of the BMW and helped her out.

“I was thinking we should eat first and then I'll give you a tour.” She nodded.

When they ate in the large dining room with it's honey stained oak floor, they made little small talk. Conversation fruitful however, he learned that she had no man of significance in her life save her father. The rest was idle chatter though. So he took initiative.

“Christine I would like to pursue a personal relationship with you.” He said seriously as he looked her square in the eyes over a strawberry tart.

“Why?” She questioned lamely.

“Because you interest me, and I want to know you better. I think I can trust you. Is that true?” He was still holding her eyes with his.

“Of course you can sir, I think it may be a bad idea though, I am not well suited to you, and don't bring anything to you.” She was very serious now, and her eyes saddened a bit.

“I think you will, but I need you to know some things about me that I would expect you to keep to your self if you do not find it desirable.” She had blinked and was not looking into his eyes any longer, but he knew he had her rapt attention.

“I'll show you now if you don't mind.” Westin slowly stood waiting to see if she would also. She actually rose confidently obviously thinking he was about to show her a room full of hunting trophies or something else that certain groups of women would disdain.

When she was standing he made his way to the hall where the door to the basement was.

Wes took the stairs two at a time and was at the basement floor several seconds before Christine got there. The lights were still off, but he could smell the leather. The basement was very large, and took up a large portion of the house's footprint. It had two entrances; the one Westin and Christine were standing in from the interior of the house, and one from the exterior from a large set of double doors that opened upward. Slowly he turned to face her in the hall light, and flicked on the light.

“Remember please keep this to yourself.” He intoned.

Her jaw went slack. He had surfaced the concrete floor with a bluish glaze, and had one of the forty-foot walls covered with toys. Floggers, paddles, crops, ropes, chains hoods, gags, cuffs, dildos, and hundreds of other implements littered the massive pegboard structure attached to the wall. Strewn about the center of the room were two sawhorses four large wooden chairs a set of stocks, and a large wooden table. All were smoothly sanded, and oiled beautifully.

Westin soaked in her reaction. She was flabbergasted. She made no noise, and stared at the room as if unable to take it all in.

“What the…” she stammered.

“I seem to have an impulse control problem when it comes to buying this stuff.” He tried to explain.

She took two steps into the room beyond him and turned to face him. Then she swiftly dropped to her knees. She had her hands in her lap and sat on her ankles. Westin reeled with the action. She had done this before…and she approved of it. Obviously she wanted to try this with him. There was no other explanation for her sitting on the cold floor before him.

“I have no experience with this, but deeply desire to do it with you. I am well researched, and trust worthy. I will not bind you, as I want you to feel that you can escape if you need to. The safe word in my house is “Cardinal”. Use it whenever needed. Take your hair down now.”

She quickly moved to comply

“Slowly.” He warned her.

A moment later he hair was free of the bun, and he stepped forward and ran his right hand through it. Winding his fingers through it, then abruptly made a fist trapping it in his hand. Then he yanked her to her feet. With a slight gasp she stood and he walked her to the table. Twisting a small wheel beneath it he lowered the table to just above her waist height.

“Place your hands on the table.” He barked at her

When it was done he released her hair and pulled the hem of her dress over her head. The sight was not even half as appealing as he had hoped. She was wearing a massive control panty, and the black tights revealed themselves to be black panty hose that were fraying at the top.

“This is all never leaving my home. I am cutting it off of you as I find it unsuitable.”

A moment passed before he moved as he had expected her to say “Cardinal” or run at his statement.

He pulled the small knife with the clip on it that he used as a money clip and started sawing at her undergarments. Two minutes later they were removed from both her body, and his sight. The two large globes of her ass now fixated him. It's pale beauty calling him and forcing him to determine his first course of action.

Christine March felt secure. For the first time she knew instinctively that she was getting what she really wanted. Her ass was exposed to a man she hardly knew, and her dress was unceremoniously crowded around her head. The top of her head still tingled where her red hair had been man handled and he had forced her to the table. Its surface was cold, but the wood still warmed her emotionally.

The entire night had frightened her slightly. She did not understand Westin's desire to meet with her, and had been completely confused when he proposed a relationship with her. It was something she had wanted from the first time she heard him command her boss, yet knew was impossible. Shooting stars like Westin Banks did not bother with junior loan officers who barely sold enough mortgages to justify their employment. When he spoke in the office near her cubicle, she knew he was a man who got what he wanted and got it the way he wanted it. Her nipples had stiffened at the sound. She looked up from her desk and saw the tall dark haired man and his piercing blue eyes. She had recognized him instantly.

The last relationship she had been in was with a man with a voice like that. He had been the assistant professor in her sophomore accounting class. They had dated for three years. But while she worked on her career he became jealous. She wanted to give him complete control in return for his safe keeping and support, and he only wanted his maliciousness to be seen as affection. Eventually she had needed to drop her entire life and move.

Westin Banks was still. She wondered what he might be deciding.

SMACK

It was his hand on her left buttock; the sting of the blow obliterated all other thoughts inside her. A whimper escaped her throat, and she heard him moan in response.

SMACK

Right buttock this time, her entire ass began to throb after just the two blows. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she bit down to settle it He alternated; from cheek to cheek giving ten blows in total. She knew her ass was now a bright red contrast to its normal pale tone. It wouldn't be easy to sit. She was tingling all over and had gotten very wet after the blows.

When he spoke his breath was ragged and shallow. The tone was slightly enthusiastic.

“That was for bringing your jackass boss to my office. Now if your hands move when I step away, I will give you double the punishment.”

She had hated when Mr. Rivisi had barged in on her meeting, claiming his experience would be necessary in dealing with Mr. Banks. Westins eyes told her Rivisi was not invited the second they entered the office. Now she was grateful for the blows, she would no longer need to feel guilty about the mistake.

He stepped away now. She heard him rustling across the room, but the dress over her head obstructed her view. Moments later he had returned. There was movement directly by her right ear, and he put several things on the table.

“It will be a minute before this is ready Christine…Cardinal” He had used the safe word. She didn't understand. Was she doing something wrong?

He spoke in a warm focused voice.

“I stopped because this will need time to be ready and I wanted to get your input on some things before we continue. First the pain how did it feel?”

He was concerned for her. She felt her heart stutter, compassion was unexpected. Gathering her thoughts she replied.

“Blissful, it was wonderful, and I knew I earned it when you told me why you had done it.”

“Yes, about that. I have decided that is the last time I will mix profession and personal. My dungeon, for all its unused glory. Is just about the people in it. Our work has no place in here, and honestly I know that I just wanted an excuse to spank you. It will not happen again. Unless you earn it in our personal life.”

Honesty was unexpected also. She would gladly let him spank her again for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone.

“About our personal life, I expect to see you three times a week. Once to go out publicly to enjoy ourselves, and twice to stay in and enjoy ourselves. I will call your home the night before I wish to see you with instructions. We will not make contact at work.”

She reveled in his decision-making. This was uncomplicated; all she had to do was comply. It was beautiful in it's simplicity.

“I will pay for everything while we are out. I will also pay for anything you purchase for me, that is if my instructions require you to buy anything you will bring the receipts to me.”

Again she reveled. He would handle everything.

“That is all I have at the moment, I am ready to resume. Lift your right foot if you are ready also.”

She picked the foot up immediately. This man could have any of her he chose.

His hand griped her right leg just above the knee and pulled it away from her left leg, spreading her and forcing her chest and abdomen onto the table. The wood chilled her torso as his hand now worked it's way up her leg to her privates. She lost focus when the fingers pushed aside her hair-covered lips and hit her moisture. Playing for a few moments the hand left her. She had just started to regain her composure when something hit the small of her back.

It was wet and hot. It burned, and slid down the left side of her back burning a trail as it went. Candle wax. Just as it cooled and the pain died another glob landed on her ass, sliding inward from the left cheek to run down her ass crack. This was much more sensitive and she yelped audibly. Breathing short and choppy until it cooled she began to long to kiss the man, to thank him for wanting to bring comfort and pleasure to her.

“Scream if you must.” He implored of her. “No one will hear but me and I think I like it.”

With that a stream of wax landed on the right side of her but, and he ran it over to the left, and up her back. It was relentless and scream she did. But it wasn't a pain scream.

“Ooooooohhhhh!!” It escaped her lips full of lust and enjoyment.

The wax slowly started to cool. And she became aware of him blowing on her ass to cool it faster.

After it cooled for the third time He told her to stand up. She felt the wax cracking as her skin flexed with the movement. Flaking, and peeling from her backside. It was a pleasant reminder of the sensations the wax had caused.

“Face me.” Commanded Westin. She turned on her heels to do so, the dress falling back into place. She saw that he was slightly fatigued, and clearly excited. She looked down to his pants and saw his bulge calling to her.

“Remove the dress and sit on the table.”

She unzipped the dress, pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Her bra, shoes and the little bit of hose around her feet from where he had cut the rest off were all that she was wearing now. His little knife took care of the bra cutting where it met between her breasts. She let it fall, and hoisted herself onto the table. The wax dug into her ass further agitating the angry marks on her backside.

Stepping between her legs he had another command.

“Open my pants.”

She fumbled with the tuxedo for a moment and released his cock. It leapt out into her hands and he groaned as he shrugged the jacket off. She had completely undone the pants so they slowly began to make their way towards the floor as he continued.

“Guide me.”

She put one hand on his cock and the other on his ass and pulled him into her slowly. She saw the shiver of pleasure roll down his shoulders when he was hip to hip with her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist he put his left hand on the table for balance, and thrust his right hand into her hair.

Pulling her head back by the fist full of hair he had, he began to slowly move in and out of her. In contrast to the force he was using, he softly kissed her neck at its base then started to kiss her collarbones. She climaxed on the third push, screaming with pleasure and gripping his ass with both hands now. Her all ready moist pussy got sloppy with the added wetness. Now making slight wet squeaks when he thrust. He did not last much longer. Picking up his momentum he began to hammer her crotch for a dozen or so strokes before pulling out and yanking her off the table, and with the hold he had on her hair forced his cock to her face. Yelling aloud he blasted her face with the first of his orgasm. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue to catch the rest.

Cum dripping down her cheeks she sucked the remainder of it out of him and flicked her tongue over his member to get the rest. Swallowing all but the first bit, she moved to wipe the rest to her lips with a finger.

“Leave it.”

She obeyed. Putting the hand down. His semen began to drip onto her neck and chest.

Longing for it, she wished she could lick it up and have all of him.

“Follow me.” He was now breathless and satiated. Quickly he turned and went up the stairs to the house proper. She wasn't more than a step behind him. Then he went to the front of the house and took the long curved staircase to the second floor. In her black shoes and the bit of pantyhose she followed him into the master suite.

They showered in an enormous gray marble and frosted glass shower that had three showerheads protruding from the wall. Not once did he speak, he simply bathed her with a large washcloth, and then bathed himself.

While he was drying her with a gigantic blue towel he massaged her shoulders and legs, then lingered a long time rubbing her ass through the towel. Calmly he spoke at last.

“There is no need for you to return home tonight. I will take you back in the morning.”

With that he grabbed her hand and walked her into the large bedroom. It was decorated in a very masculine fashion. The room was dominated by a massive king size four-poster bed in dark wood. On top of it was a thick burgundy comforter. A large plasma television hung on the wall opposite the bed with a small table below it containing the requisite satellite and DVD boxes. Against the wall to the left of the bed was a nine-drawer dresser in the same dark wood as the bed. On the right side was a burgundy fainting couch like what may be found in a psychiatrist's office.

He pulled the comforter back and arranged the pillows against the wall so they would be sitting up. He motioned for her to climb in the bed and then followed her, both naked.

The bed was lavish against her. Sheets were obviously an absurd thread count, and the mattress conformed to every shape of her like a cocoon. After he was settled sitting against the headboard he spoke again.

“You will need to bring two sets of work clothing, and two sets of casual clothing to my house. I will be able to keep you overnight whenever, and the day of the week needn't matter.”

This time she began to reply sensing the calm.

“Of course.”

“You need something to keep you occupied, I did not ask for your input, and a simple yes sir is all I will allow you to say unless I ask for more input.”

With that he lifted the comforter and held it up. After a long moment she got the idea.

“Yes sir.” Panted Christine. She had been hoping that he wasn't done anyway, and salivated when she knew what he wanted.

“Occupy yourself while I think of more things that will be necessary.” He commanded.

She immediately slid beneath the covers and kissed the head of his dick. Pulling back slightly she ran her tongue over his glans and around the head before opening wider and taking half of it into her mouth.

Dropping the comforter back into place he was silent for several minutes.

“I want to control when you cum, I felt that it was inconsiderate on your part to not inform me that you were about to. From now on you will ask permission from me first. This includes masturbation. You will require my permission to cum then also. In fact I think you will require my permission to masturbate as well. I don't want you to have recently spent yourself moments before I call upon you.” His cock was rock hard now, and she had been toying with it to “occupy” herself as he wanted. Slowly licking the sides of it from base to tip, and dipping lower to caress his balls with her tongue also. He was breathing harder now also. Suddenly he threw the comforter back and she shut her eyes to the sudden light.

“Open your eyes.”

She gazed up at him with the head of his cock in sitting on the top of her tongue, and her lips closed tight her cheeks sucking in from the pressure of her suction. When their eyes met she felt him quiver slightly.

“Enough, stop playing, I would like to see your nose pressed against my skin. If you fail to accomplish this for ten seconds or more I will give you a small blanket and you will sleep on the floor. Do not shut your eyes.”

She moved to a position between his legs, and opened her mouth wide to stretch it before pressing the head to her lips and slowly descending on it. She got half of it down before gagging, and wiped her lips with her hand before trying again. No better the second time.

“You have ten minutes to accomplish your task before I move you to the floor.”

The third time she got slightly further, but her body convulsed, rejecting it. On and on she went. Finally, planting her hands on either side of his hips, she managed to feel his pubic hair tickle her nose. She was close…almost there.

She guessed that five minutes had passed when she came up, and the next time she went down she was able to bury her face in his pubic region.

“Beautiful.”

His response made her heart jump, and she backed up and took a deep breath. Burying her face again she began to count. One, two, three, four, five…her throat was objecting, she tried swallowing to tame it. Six, seven, she was gagging now. Eight, nine, he was moaning. Ten. She didn't move, wanting to prove how her desire to please him.

“Amazing, well done.”

His praise spurred her on. She pulled back up breathing in and instantly dropping back down. Shivers went through him, and she moved her right hand to his now neglected balls. They contracted at contact, and she pulled back, sealing her lips over the head of his member swirling her tongue around it. Now she didn't let any of his orgasm get away from her.

He pulled her up to him and they fell asleep with his right hand clasped tightly around her left wrist.

That Saturday morning, Westin awoke with his hand still gripping Christine's wrist. His mind was flooded when he glanced down at the naked woman asleep next to him. He had really been acting impulsively.

Permission to come?

He thought to him self

What am I doing, I'm just making this up as I go .

When his thoughts settled a bit he figured he must not be doing too bad, she seemed to have a good time, and she could have quit or left whenever she wanted. Still he didn't know really how to continue. She had taken all of his rules and orders without question. And, was definitly turned on by his control. Maybe he had managed to find what he was looking for. The man in him told him that he had an excellent night either way.

So he pulled himself away from Christine and climbed out of bed. Strolling to the dresser he removed a pair of black silk pajama pants and donned them. Reaching into another drawer he removed a white t-shirt and placed it in the bed where she lay. Next he walked to the bathroom and went about his ablutions. Finally he entered his office and hastily scribbled on a sticky note and brought it back to the bedroom, where he placed it on the shirt.

“Wear this…then find me.” It read in his large flowing script.

Once this was complete he ventured downstairs to clean up dinner and begin breakfast. He figured she would be hungry, and went about creating omelets and bacon. He also prepared Columbian coffee and sour dough toast. Grabbing a large tray he carried the entire affair including place settings for two into his den.

The den of the house was a sort of large study. His desk was in there with its Mahogany work surface and five drawers, two on either side and a deep center drawer. On it was his laptop. Also in the room was a large comfortable couch. It was suede and it faced a large glass coffee table, opposite was a large television. He placed the tray on the table and grabbed his laptop from the desk. Turning the TV on to the news channel he fired up the laptop and began eating.

Westin had just finished setting his empty plate down and was getting ready to pour himself a second cup of coffee when she timidly entered the room. She had the t-shirt on and nothing else, her undergarments having been destroyed the night before.

The post-it was in her right hand.

“Have some breakfast.” Westin said to her offering the tray. Then he stood up and took the note from her hand.

“I'll discard this while you settle in.” Not sure if her level of consciousness dictated her willingness for his control or not, he tossed the note in the wastebasket beside his desk, and sat back down on the couch to continue watching the news.

A few minutes later he was glancing to his right where she was buttering toast, he noticed that she had curled up onto the couch drawing her feet up into the large shirt and huddling against the back of the couch. He loved it. Everything she did was in a manner of submissiveness. Westin was more relaxed than he had been in a long time. Slowly he stretched his legs out onto the coffee table and crossed his ankles. Then he patted his thigh.

Here goes, let's see if she still wants to be part of this.

Christine lifted her plate of bacon and toast, and scooted over to be next to him. Laying the plate in front of her she put her head in his thigh and sighed contentedly before resuming her eating. That's when he began with the questions.

“Have you done this before?” He idly inquired.

“Yes sir.” Still timid

“Explain for me.” He was still warm to her.

“I had an ex who loved to restrain me and spank me. He was obsessed with controlling me and he turned abusive. He wanted to hurt me in the end. I eventually had to leave and start over.”

Westin managed to inwardly breath a sigh of relief. He was not going to be compared to a real dominant, just an asshole. As long as he made her feel secure and took away her worries she would let him do just about whatever he pleased.

“Have you been with other women before?” This question was on his mind. Internet sites had been chock full of girl on girl action, and he longed to see it first hand.

“Yes sir.”

“And was this something he made you do?” If it were forced then Westin would have a hard time getting his desired results.

“No sir, it was with a good friend, we had too much to drink.”

“Did you enjoy it?” The three-dollar question.

“Yes sir.” Excellent

He took her home later that day wearing her dress. He watched her until she entered her apartment and closed the door. They began their relationship, and he continued to see her for the next three weeks. The effect on each of them was startling. He was having fun again, and had relaxed finally. His clients were more comfortable around him, and his fingers and teeth were recovering. His jaw no longer ached from being ground.

Her performance at work was increasing nicely also. She was making a few cold calls, and had her portfolio of loans at a more respectable level. Personally they were making out fabulously. He made sure to fulfill her needs of spanking and was restraining her every time they met. Westin had taken to putting her in wrist and ankle cuffs whenever she was at his home for convenience. Then things slowly began to change for everyone when they were in his room watching a rented DVD one night.

Christine was bound on the burgundy fainting couch. Her wrists and ankles each hooked together, and then a short lead connecting the two behind her back. She was otherwise naked. He had turned the heat up to keep her from getting chill.

Westin was sprawled on the floor at the foot of the bed. A large black pillow propped him up. To her he was a vision lying there naked also, with his legs splayed breathing deep and strong, completely content with the world he commanded…completely content with her.

“Cardinal.” Her voice was still submissive even when invoking the stop word.

“Is something wrong? Do you need to be released?” His mind raced to find his fault, and he stood to be by her side incase she was losing circulation or getting cramp.

“No, I am comfortable. It's just that my apartment lease is up in one month.” She faltered a bit trying to get this statement out. She spoke just as he unclipped the lead allowing her to stretch out.

“You don't want to renew?”

Now he unclasped her feet and hands so she could move and allow them to circulate.

“I want to be yours everyday.”

This was lovely. He longed to have her permanently. Slowly he ran his fingers through her hair.

“You're sure?”

“Positive.”

“It would be different. Living in my house I would need you to still be cuffed and you would be always mine. There would be no more on and off when I call.”

She reached up and held the hand in her hair firmly with both of hers. Looking directly into his eyes.

“I don't want to be off. I want to be yours always.”

“Good. It's decided then. When your lease is up you move in.”

Her heart leapt at his words, and she felt herself growing hotter. He surprised her by speaking first.

“If you want this then we will continue now. I am deeply warmed by your desire to be mine. To prove that you want it I will ask that you give me this.”

He slid his hand behind her, and pulled her buttocks apart touching the rim of her hole with his index finger.

“Yes sir.” She followed her response by standing neatly and moving to the side of the bed, laying neatly over it, crossing her arms and placing her head in them, feet still on the floor. Her ass now stuck out into the air magnificently. What he wanted from her he would take forcibly, but it would still be given freely. He rose and pulled a bottle of clear lube from the nightstand and pulled her cheeks apart with his left hand. In a controlled manner he placed the tip of the bottle to her hole and gently squeezed a bit of it on. Then he placed his middle finger to her asshole and eased it inside. Christine's breathing quickened.

“Relax, after this you will be mine always.” She calmed and tried to concentrate on his desires and wants for her ass, willing it to relax and allow him entry. His finger eased in and out a few times and he stopped to apply more liquid. Then she felt the head of his cock slide down the crack of her backside and stop at her hole. He pushed and her sphincter resisted stubbornly.

SMACK Her right buttock roared with fire as he spanked her.

“I said relax.”

His cock throbbed when he saw the ripple of flesh after the blow.

Again he began pushing and with effort she calmed her ass into receiving him. Westin was hilt deep ten minutes later, and applied more lube to the junction of their parts.

“You may not make noise this time. I wish to enjoy this and absorb it all without distraction.” That was going to be difficult.

“Yes sir.”

SMACK. Now, it was her left cheek that complained. She longed to see his marks on her ass, to touch them.

“I said no noise.” He was getting riled up. She figured there was no way he could last long. He enjoyed the control deeply and was already sounding anxious.

With effort he began to pump her, his hands firmly on the base of her neck for leverage. After a few minutes she could feel the lube wearing thin. She bit into the sheet against the pain she knew would be coming. It never did. Westin's legs began to spasm slightly and she felt her insides become lubed again. Shortly he collapsed onto her back and gently bit her ear. Through his clenched teeth. He spoke in a now raspy voice.

“Tomorrow find out how much you need to settle the apartment. I will write your landlord a check for the remainder and you will move in. Bring everything you can fit in your car. This weekend we will move you.” A massive feeling of well-being overcame her, and she breathed deep and satisfied.

After a few minutes his member shrank and slid from her backside. He stood straight up and spoke again.

“You'll have to quit work. I will not mesh our lives that much.”

“Cardinal.” He noted the slight fire in her voice this time.

She still didn't look up from the sheets, but extricated them from her mouth before speaking again.

“I need my career in order feel productive. I don't want to quit working.” She was finally a little determined about something.

“Neither do I want you sitting around my house all day with nothing to do, but you have to quit this job. It will not work for us. How about going it for your self? I'll stake you, and you can start your own mortgage brokerage. I'll be needing one soon anyway.”

“Alone?” she faltered again biting her bottom lip.

“Never alone. Always with me, I'll provide premises, initial business, and even refer you to all my clients.”

“Are you sure I can make it?”

“We have nothing to lose but my money, and I have plenty, besides if it fails you become a loan officer elsewhere. No harm no foul.”

“I accept.”

“Good now if you are ready to continue, lick me clean while I think about the rules for you residing here.”

He sat on the bed and leaned back folding his hands behind his head while she hastened to get on her knees at the edge and began slowly licking him from base to tip.

“You will need collars. I will pick out one for punishment, probably a posture collar. You will pick out one for wearing while we are out, and one for wearing when we entertain. The entertainment one will be more of a fancy choker something studded with your favorite stone. I think emeralds would be beautiful on you. We will also need a sturdy and comfortable one for everyday wear. It will match your cuffs, so find yourself a matching set of leather cuffs and collar. The cuffs will have two D-rings, and the collar no fewer than four. As I said I will get the punishment collar, the rest are yours to find.”

Westin was enthralled. He wondered if he would be able to contain himself on a daily basis or if he would be oversexed in a matter of hours after she moved in.

“I will put a decorative trunk near the door. You will keep all your collars in it as well as the set of cuffs. When you come home from being out you will remove all clothing and put the everyday collar and it's cuffs on. You will wear nothing else, except during your period at witch point you will also be allowed to put on a cotton thong.”

He breathed deeply as she hit a sensitive spot and his cock startled to life again. He put his left hand in her hair and pulled her face into his crotch. She had now mastered deep throating him, and began swallowing to massage his cock with her throat.

“You will not be needing your car, sell it before your lease is up. Since it is a month away you have that long to acquire the collars also, except the fancy one which we will have made.”

Now he had both hands on her head and was sitting up slightly, pulling on her like a rowing machine. Abruptly he pulled her off with a pop, and rising, threw her onto the bed. Positioning her on her back, with her head hanging off the side he stood and slid himself into her mouth and began thrusting. After a moment he was using her ankles for leverage, and she felt as if she would tumble to the floor. Sensing this he held her legs splayed and leaned into her pussy tongue first, licking her lips for a second he bit her firmly above the pussy at her panty line. Her pain vibrated through his cock as she tried to be startled. Then he set him self to slowly grinding his tongue across her clit. He pulled out of her throat lightly and she began pumping his cock with her right hand while holding his balls up with her left. Her body began shaking uncontrollable after a minute, and he groaned with triumph at her orgasm. Filling her warm mouth with his cum at the same time.

Wordlessly he got up and went to the other side of the bed to collapse. She rolled slightly and pulled the covers over them.

The next morning he awoke before her as usual, and made breakfast. He decided that today was as good a day as any to get started, so he called his secretary at her home and informed him that he was feeling ill and to please reroute his meetings, and forward emergencies to Mr. Roberts when she got to the office. Then he placed the cordless phone on the breakfast tray and carried it upstairs. Seeing her sleeping in bed was a peaceful sight that he was very prepared to upset.

“Get up Christine!” His tone was impatient. She blinked several times she had obviously been deep in sleep.

“We have a lot to accomplish today. You will need to eat and call your toad of a boss and inform him you are taking a personal day. I have decided that instead of you moving your things today, I will be going with you, and we will also be getting other things.”

Christine kicked the covers off and sat up in bed.

“Y-Yes sir” she managed to stammer the words out sleepily.

“Since you will be living here I believe I will need to be more firm until your presence is seamless. We will be working on that today.”

Her black leather cuffs stood out against her white skin as she moved to the dresser where he placed the tray. She grabbed a piece of toast and bit ravenously. As soon as she finished she called the office and did as he told her.

“Thank you, now dress casually, we are going out.”

They dressed silently together. He in a dark blue polo and khaki pants, and her in a pair of jeans and a large ribbed black shirt. It was short sleeved and he had not said anything about her cuffs yet.

“Remove your cuffs at the door like we discussed. In lieu of a trunk just set them on the floor. I will be in the car in five minutes. You will be there also.”

He strode off to his den while she pulled her socks on. It was difficult negotiating the pants leg and her tennis shoes with her cuffs between them, and she looked dreadfully foolish until she got to the door to remove them. She took off all four of them slowly, and kissed each one before placing it on the floor. Then she stepped out and closed the door. He was waiting in the blue BMW staring at his watch.

“You were three seconds late.” He intoned as he pushed on the accelerator.

“For the rest of the day you will wear no underwear. Take them off, and place them in the back seat.”

“Yes sir.” She fought her pants down, and went to remove her shoes. He stopped her and handed her his small knife.

“Your panties offend me. I do not want them to be worn again.”

“Yes sir.”

“From now on all your clothing will be subject to my approval.”

“Yes sir.”

And his approval was put into place at their very first stop. They pulled into her apartment complex, and while she took a signed blank check to the manager to settle up he went into her apartment to determine which clothes were acceptable. By the time she returned he had tossed out over 80% of her clothing.

“That actually didn't take too long. I have made another decision though. Listen carefully.”

He took a pause to examine a t-shirt before finding a small makeup stain on its collar and throwing it into his rubbish pile.

“We are going to purchase new clothing for you today. We are also going to find you a corset. This will take us to several fetish shops if necessary. Pick out whatever you like at any of these places. With the exceptions of your collars however all things will be subject to my approval.”

That was the beginning of the day for them. First a lingerie store. Westin had not approved a single undergarment that covered more than half of her rear, and had mostly selected thongs and g-strings. She would have normally thought these foolish on her, but with his approval she was convinced instantly, and felt sexy. He did not select a single full cup bra settling for mostly demi cup. He always purchased every color they had, and had told her to buy them all lace, sheer, satin, and even a few times leather.

Next was actual clothing. He bought her skirts and dresses only. Mostly, with slits up the sides, and everything stopped just below her knee or higher. Tops ran the full gambit. And he cut the shopping short after awhile saying they would be getting anything else on line. Then, a short stop for sandwiches which, he ordered. Saying that eating out was his discretion, and he would order whatever he thought she might like to try.

Then they hit an interesting store with no sign front. There was a slight neon sign in the window proclaiming leather, but the rest was blacked out. She assumed they had arrived at one of the fetish stores, but had never seen it before. Smoothly he walked to her side and opened her door as he had done all day long. She cautiously stepped out and together they walked to the door. With his right hand firmly on her left wrist for reassurance.

Inside they were horribly out of fashion. The high tailored businessman, and his contemporary sub were quickly greeted by the smell of new leather, and almost overwhelmed by the massive amount of black in the room. A middle aged balding man in leather pants that should have been thrown out months ago crossed the store to them with a small tag pinned to his white tank top that read “Todd”. He was surprisingly friendly, and their appearance did not offend or other wise impress him, their demeanor told him everything.

“Hello welcome to the store. Anything particular I can do for you or are you browsing.”

Christine was eyeing the shelves and racks. The store was neatly divided in half along the left wall from the door was clearly “pain” floggers canes, binding and clamping implements, even a violet wand and a suction kit. On the right wall were “pleasure” plugs, dildos, vibrators, and special creams and lubes. Between the two walls of shelves, on four racks in the small store were the clothes. Latex, leather, and chain…everything. Still it was a rather small store. She looked up at Westin who nodded giving her the go ahead.

“I need a collar please. With matching cuffs and…”

Christine was positively giddy. And had to steel herself to look back at Westin who nodded again.

“A blindfold, all leather please.”

The store clerk was beaming right back at her. And only then had she noticed the small steel ring that circled his neck and sat lightly.

He was almost as excited as she was when he spoke.

“A collar is a defining step. Is it something for comfort or discipline?”

“I need it to fit comfortably for sleeping and play. Discipline will be with another collar.”

“Ok come back here.”

Westin's mind wandered as the two subs went about the store flitting in and out of the racks like dragonflies. He let her have a lot of freedom here, sitting down in a well worn chair and picking up a local underground styled magazine. It was captivating. The magazine described a few clubs that devoted one night a week to the BDSM lifestyle he had embraced, and a few articles discussed how to punish and further enjoy your sub. He read the entire magazine. Then, looked back to the rack it was on and noticed it was free. When he looked up Christine was standing in front of him waiting to speak. The clerk had long since gone back to the counter at the back of the room, instinctively knowing what was and was not his business.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Just about five minutes sir.”

“And how did the spree go?”

“I would like your opinion sir.” She had not looked up, but now he noticed that her hands were full.

“This is your decision Christine, you do not need my opinion.”

“Yes sir, but I would like it in order to please you. They both are extremely comfortable, and useful, but I cannot decide on the wider or narrower.”

Now she held them before him and put them in his hands. One collar was only an inch wide, and the other was nearly an inch and three quarters. Both were supple black leather with stainless D-rings spread out evenly in four places around. They also both had stainless buckling and provisions for a lock.

“I think thicker, but I leave it to you.” He did really prefer the thicker, because she was not a dainty girl, and the width would suit her.

“Thank you sir”

Sensing that this completed her shopping experience he turned to find the clerk who was placing her items on the counter neatly for purchase. He walked to the man and cleared his throat.

“Need anything else?” Todd inquired without looking up.

“We are also interested in purchasing a corset, I did not see any that we are particularly interested in though. I thought maybe you would know a good place where we could discreetly purchase one.”

Todd looked up with the excited expression again, and was on the verge of speaking when an unfamiliar voice rang through from the back office of the shop. Todd immediately broke eye contact and turned his attention back to the countertop.

“Todd makes all the corsets that we take orders for. I'm sure he would be most pleased to accommodate you. Wouldn't you Todd?” The woman with the new voice was now entering the front of the shop. She had dirty blonde hair cut just below her shoulders and worn straight with no bangs. She stood approximately five foot seven, which put her two inches above Christine. She was however dreadfully thin. Her bony shoulders and flat chest were plainly obvious beneath the simple black t-shirt and white washed jeans she had on. Her feet were bare.

The balding man nodded in agreement. He began rifling a drawer for a measuring tape.

Snatching it, he also grabbed a pencil and a small scrap of paper. He spoke in Christine's direction.

“If you'll just step up here I will get your measurements.”

Todd pointed to a small circular platform near the end of the counter. Christine looked up to catch Westins slight nod, and stepped on to the small platform.

The woman was speaking to Westin again.

“My name is Marci, welcome to my shop. I guess this is your first time inside?”

She extended a tan bony hand for him to shake. Westin took it firmly shook once, and let it go.

“Yes, she is moving into my home, and we are treating ourselves to some new things as part of that.” The woman smiled slightly, and nodded.

“I hope that Todd has found everything you need, and if not please let me know and we can look in the store room, or we would be happy to order anything you want.”

Westin decided he liked Marci. He had honestly been expecting snobbishness, but was instead getting a warm reception. During the next half hour he told her how Christine was actually more experienced than he, and that they had only been involved for about a month. Marci did not judge the rapid pace of their relationship, but rather told him how many people involved in the lifestyle progress rapidly. After all how hard was trusting someone to pay a bill when they all ready trusted you to thrash them with a bamboo cane.

She explained that Todd and her had accepted each other more than ten years ago, and had been happy ever since. They had decided to open the shop two years ago. While they weren't wealthy as a result, they could pay all their bills, and had unlimited access to every piece of equipment available. Marci continued on to invite them to fetish night at one of the local clubs the next Tuesday.

“It would be a good chance to see what's going on outside your bedroom, and meet a few people who are also in the community. Even though most of the crowd is pretending.”

“Pretending? What do you mean by that?” Westin's eyebrows arched.

“Marci began to explain that most of the crowd would be young men and women who were coming to the clubs because it's taboo, or because they think they want this, but have never been with anyone who would truly let them experience it.

An hour later Westin and Christine left with a large paper bag containing several more items than what Christine had selected with Todd, and an agreement to meet them at the club on Tuesday. Together they continued the day by picking up some of her important possessions, including the items of clothing that Westin had approved of at her apartment, and the items she would need for hygiene as well. With that they returned to his home. Both of them looking forward to the next week.

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.

The weekend went smoothly, Westin and Christine moved her into his home, and spent the time more as a man and woman than as a master and slave. She went braless the entire time because her breasts bore the marks of their play. They had all her things in the house by Sunday afternoon, and had placed a good number of her possessions in his empty third garage bay. Together they agreed to hold her belongings there for six months before selling to a local consignment store.

Monday was a typical Monday in the world of business. Westin entertained analysis reports for his flagship account, and Christine chased her loans trying to close them before her two weeks ended. As both sat at their desks that Monday they were wanting deeply to play again, but with the schedule so full of necessities of work there was no time.

Westin was sitting at lunch in the executive dining room, enjoying a rare moment of peace at work when his cellular phone started announcing that he was receiving a call.

“Westin Banks.” He said professionally.

“Mr. Banks, this is Marci from the store.” He had put the number on the order forms for his custom clothing. However, actually getting a call this early was not expected.

“Yes hello Marci, what can I do for you? Is there a problem with my orders?” He stood from his club sandwich, and walked to a window for a bit of privacy, there were only two other occupants, but Westin figured better safe than sorry.

“No not at all, I just wondered if you would be planning on attending the club tomorrow night like we discussed.”

“I have it in mind to go, absolutely. We should be there around nine pm.” Of course he planned to go, he had said he would. What was this woman up to? His mind was a blur of concentration as his eyes absently examined the city below the office building.

“Well I found something that may interest you. Apparently there's going to be a rope bondage specialist there who is proficient at suspension work, and I thought you'd be interested in having Christine experience it.”

The idea of Christine helpless in the air before him was very appealing.

“I think that works for me. Can you have it all arranged?” He kept his wording business like to avoid any curiosity.

“I'll handle everything. You two are going to enjoy it. I'll see you then.”

The phone was dead in his ear before he could say goodbye.

The rest of the day and most of Tuesday passed rapidly. Too exhausted and too busy for play, they both eagerly anticipated Tuesday evening. Westin had decided that it would not be in either of their best interest to dictate that she play with others, so he had mentioned to Christine about the bondage artist, and she was eager to try it.

At five-thirty Tuesday afternoon, Christine walked into the door, stripped her business clothing into the laundry basket they had agreed on, and slipped on her cuffs and collar. She then went upstairs to find a long note from him on the fainting couch. Stretching out luxuriously she began to read.

Darling Christine,

Tonight, I expect you will be able to wear your “house” cuffs and collar, since it is fetish night. I want you to wear the white peasant shirt, with a black skirt, nothing too tight. Wear white underneath, and the black platform heels four or six inch, your choice. No hosiery, limited makeup, and let your hair hang. We will be expected there at, nine o-clock. Be ready to walk out the door thirty minutes after I get home. Our normal home dress code need not apply to night, as we will be in a hurry.

Quickly she went to the closet to find the items he wanted, settling on the four inch heels incase she would be expected to do more than walk a few steps. Laying them all on the bed she started a large bubble bath, and opened her makeup case on the expansive bathroom counter.

Forty minutes later, she had put her cuffs and collar back on, and was slipping into a sheer white thong that buried itself between her cheeks in the back, and gave away her naturally red bush in the front. She had trimmed it in the tub to ensure it would not stick out of the underwear, and it was just the faintest of a landing strip now. Next she put on the matching sheer white bra, her breasts completely visible through the front, and the tops of her aureole peeking over the top of the half cups. He was going to go berserk when he took her top off tonight, she knew it. Next she put on a flat black skirt that fell just to her calf (it was the only long skirt he had allowed, because it flattered her so well.). Quickly she zipped up the back, and put her arms through the shirt. It's wide slightly lacy collar allowed her to reveal the tops of her shoulders, and an ample amount of her displayed cleavage. After that it was just a matter of slipping on the black calf length platform heels. She had to remove her ankle cuffs when she made the decision to wear them, but on a lark fastened them over the boots for what she felt was quite a dramatic effect.

She was going to look awesome for him, and as she went to apply some light make up, she thought perhaps she'd be sure to “earn” a spanking while they were out. Eight o'clock came, and went before he showed up. At eight twenty five he walked through the door in a panic just to see Christine standing there waiting for him. She had a long leather leash in her hands, and was holding it out to him.

“I guess I don't have time to change do I?” Still he smiled at her. She was ravishing to him, everything he wanted in a woman. His pride and his dick began to swell

Grasping the leash he led her out to the Porsche. Settling into the front seat, he removed her leash, and placed it in the back seat. They got to the club slightly late arriving at around nine-ten, and parked in an open spot near a light.

When they were both outside the car he looked at her ravishing form again, and thought about how they were hopelessly mismatched. He had wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt to dress accordingly, but now was reduced to removing his tie in the parking lot in order to not dress entirely too formal.

Christine had no concern whatsoever for fashions, and was looking at the little Goth college types, and other bondage fans in the lot. Most had one or two facial piercings, and one woman was walking her man on a leash, his head completely concealed in leather save for two holes where his nostrils must be.

Moments later Westin finally shut his door, and walked around to Christine, fingering the car alarm with his left hand he grasped her wrist with his right. Noting her ogling of the other people around he felt a little jealous at not being the center of her attention at the moment.

At the front door to the club he paid their cover charge, and they both accepted the stamps on their hands to verify their age as over twenty-one years. That moment Westin remembered the leash sitting in the back seat of the car. He had wanted to lead Christine around by it.

Deciding to make himself her focus again, he thrust a twenty-dollar bill in her hand.

“I forgot the leash. Get me a drink, whatever non-light beer is on tap, and find Marci. Save me a seat.”

Watching her scurry off in the black skirt, he noticed she had still worn the ankle cuffs despite the shoes. It looked sexy as hell.

It only took him a minute to get to the car and retrieve the leash; he folded it and placed it inside his jacket. On his way back across the parking lot he saw a large man in black leather pants and a black leather executioners style hood. Both items were well made. Following closely behind him was a small woman in a black latex body suit. A brief latex mask covered her eyes. Westin purposefully weaved through the cars to walk directly past the intriguing couple. As they passed he almost didn't notice the large elaborate golden ring on the man's right middle finger. He had seen something similar to it before, but couldn't place where. Looking back up he noticed a slow nod from the other man, but continued on to find Christine.

Back in the club he meandered through the crowd for almost five minutes before seeing Marci seated in a small semi circular booth. The frail looking woman was dresses in a black AC/DC tee, and was waving furiously to him. Second look showed Christine coming toward her from another direction with his drink clutched between both of her hands.

Christine made it to the table a good ten seconds after Westin had seated himself, and over heard Marci speaking.

“I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering her not to spill a drop."

Marci held her palms up in mock surrender incase he was offended, but a slow smile crept across his face. Momentarily Westin had been concerned about coming tonight. Since his arrival however, and speaking with Marci seeing her demeanor and obvious comfort here, he had settled into a good feeling about being here.

“I think you have had much more experience with this than I have. I'm glad to be shown a few new tricks.”

They sipped drinks casually for a few minutes, and Westin told her the details of meeting Christine, and how he had found BDSM on the Internet, and couldn't get enough of it. Marci was gracious and told of her own discovery when Todd had asked her to bite his neck one night when they were making love.

“Marci, pardon my interruption, but where is Todd tonight?” He had been a little surprised at his acceptance of her presence, and lack of concern for Todd's until now.

Grinning Marci dropped her eyes to the tabletop suggestively. It took a few seconds but then Westin leaned back a bit and dropped his head below the table surface, and looked beneath to see Todd motionlessly under the table on all fours in a white tee-shirt and jeans, with Marci's biker boots sticking out of a pair of faded jeans and resting on his back. He was playing the role of footstool, and wasn't bothered in the slightest by it.

“That looks comfortable.” He commented slowly, and motioned for Christine to look. When she stuck her head below to see, gently pulled her back and clipped the leash to her collar.

“I think perhaps we'll dress you in something a little more appropriate for that next time.”

Westin said to Christine as he absently ran a hand through her hair.

He chatted with Marci for a few more minutes and Christine took her cue from Todd's devout obedience to remain silent herself. Westin was going to ask about the rope expert when an exotic looking woman with dark skin and bright blue hair approached their table. Ms exotic was short, perhaps barely five feet, and thin…athletically thin. She had small boobs that pushed at the front of her yellow tank top that read ‘STAFF' on the front. A brief nametag declared her as ‘Tara – hostess'.

“Hi Marci” She dropped to a squat and beamed under the table.

“Hiya Todd” Standing quickly again she began to speak more. The girl was probably in her early twenties, and had clearly had to bleach her hair liberally before applying the electric blue dye. No one with that olive of a skin tone could be expected to be blonde.

The hair was trimmed short above her ears in a boyish bob. Her dark eyes and smooth face contrasted severely with the hair color, and tongue stud he saw flashing in her mouth as she spoke. Westin found her quite interesting as she continued.

“Hope you guys are having fun. I just got finished with the door, so my job's pretty much over. We're going to begin soon and I wanted you to know everything's cool. He'll be expecting someone from this table to stand when he asks.” With that she winked at Christine and held out a small hand to Westin.

“I'm Tara.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Westin Banks, and this is Christine.” Westin was really pleased to meet her, and was very certain that she was Marci's connection to this.

“Why don't you join us since you're done for the evening Tara?” Marci had spoken up this time.

“Sound's good to me.” She squeezed in next to Marci, and put her hands on the table.

“By the way, I asked the guys at the door to make sure that your car would be ok after I noticed you were with Marci. I figure a friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

Westin thanked the newcomer, and conversation went on to reveal that she was finishing her college degree soon, and that she had been organizing these club nights for the fetish community for a few years. Westin was surprised to learn that there was a good five hundred dollars or more, a night in it for her and figured that this not-quite-graduated college girl was pulling down almost thirty grand annually working one night a week.

Shortly after a brief and somewhat guarded description of his work the five of them were greeted audibly by the sounds of a gong.

A smallish stage was revealed when two curtains parted a good twenty feet in front of their table, and a wiry blonde man in a pair of black leather briefs stepped out.

“Greetings and welcome to my show of ropes and bondage.” The man's voice was eager, and a little squeaky.

“Well this may not be incredible as advertised, but it'll be somewhat public.” Marci mused to Westin, who had also been a little depressed to see that the somewhat unprepared man was now unceremoniously tossing items out of his trunk. The crowd was already back to their socializing.

“I was told that there is already a subject for my trade?” He was scanning the audience now. Maybe fifty percent were still watching him.

Westin watched as Christine stood, still eager and walked up to the stage. The wiry man was not impressed to see the non-model thin woman coming to the stage.

“Ah…yes” He intoned as he slipped back off stage leaving Christine standing there with Westin shrugging at her. Thus far the show was very unimpressive.

Seconds later he came rolling back into view pushing a scaffold type structure with casters at its base onto stage.

“Tonight I will show you a fascinating suspension I learned traveling through Tibet.”

He continued as he went about locking the wheels of the structure.

If he has even got a passport, I'll give him the Porsche.

To the moment Westin was getting irritated at the man's behavior, he hadn't once acknowledged Christine's presence, and had even looked a bit malicious when he was walking off to fetch his contraption. Now he was picking up several pieces of rope. The rope man began by tying her legs together in a sort of spider web, which actually did look interesting. The webs crisscrossed the skirt, and he eventually tied it off over her belly…tightly. Next he tied her arms behind her back, and ran the web of rope far up her arms almost managing to tie her elbows together.

The next moments happened to fast for Westin too ever remember it all. In an instant it felt like, the man had run a rope over his contraption, and tied it to her wrists. Marci had groaned a little, and then as Westin began to stand the man pulled hard, lifting Christine's hands high above her back and pulling her up to her tiptoes. Next thing Westin swore he saw the man muttering something about a heavy bitch, and pulling hard on the rope tied to her hands. Christine shouted her safe word just as her body tilted heavily to her left, an odd misshapen form replacing her left shoulder. The man, not recognizing her safe word, or not caring, continued to try and heave on the rope to get her off her feet.

Marci had yelled Todd's name, and Tara had fled for her security folks in the same instant Westin had started running toward the stage. When he climbed on top of it he managed to cross to the wiry bastard, who had only managed to stare in awe at the business suit that was rushing him. He dropped the rope as Westin neared, and put his hands up defensively in front of his face.

Westin crushed him the way one sees actors shoulder through doors on the movie screen, and then watched as the brief clad form crumpled in a heap after sliding forcibly cross stage. Turning back to Christine he saw Tara and Marci at her side helping her up, looking back at the offender he saw Todd standing coolly between them fists balled, and his back to Westin. Trusting his new friends Westin went to Christine and after throwing his keys at Tara lifted her into his arms. She was crying slightly as she buried her arms in his chest.

Christine hadn't a clue what was going to happen. The man was gentle enough when tying her, but then began savagely tugging the rope and declaring her a ‘fat assed bitch'.

She had called for Westin with cardinal, because she knew he would instantly act, and come to her rescue. Tara and Marci had her in their arms almost as soon as she hit the floor from the rope's release, and Todd had been screaming at the man through out the affair. He was still loosing profanities when Westin had picked her up and carried her to the car.

Tara meanwhile was shocked at the rigger man's behavior, and had accompanied Westin and Christine in the cramped back of the Porsche. Feeling totally responsible as the hostess and coordinator. She had apologized all the way to the hospital. The hostess had liked these two before she had ever met them. Marci had told her about them one day when she had apparently come into the shop roughly an hour after they had set records as the shop's biggest sales, and order in the same hour.

Marci had described them to Tara as being obviously in love, and clearly far, far from living paycheck to paycheck. Both of these descriptions held true when Tara met them. Christine had been sitting calmly looking at Westin when she had approached, and he heart was clearly bared for the man. The second thing Marci had told her was true also. Westin was in complete control…always. He carried an aura quite different from even the professional doms she had met. This man controlled everyone around him at all times. Lifestyle or not, he was accustomed to obedience. She had initially gone after security when she saw the rigger violently pulling the ropes, but Westin's behavior had spurred her differently. She had wanted to help him, and so had run to the stage.

In the hospital, Marci and Todd showed up, their relationship diluted to man and woman also, and both alternating from checking on Christine and blaming themselves to Westin.

A doctor reset Christine's shoulder into its socket right there in the emergency room, and told them all it was nothing to worry about. It would be sore, but she should not have any permanent difficulties with it, save the possibilities of it popping out were now much higher. The doc told her to take it easy for a few weeks, then to see her regular physician, and gave her a series of exercises to perform in order to help strengthen the shoulder and possibly limit the risk of re-injury. Finally he had given her a small dose of Demerol to help with discomfort.

Westin invited them all to accompany them beck to the house, and after stopping by the club to grab Tara's car they caravanned to his home. Christine was feeling less abused, and the shoulder had only really hurt when the doc had reset it. Now it was a dull throb, and she was ready to have guests.

Westin and Christine led everyone through the entry way and to the back of the house where the living room was. Much more of an entertainment room, than a snug cozy room like Westin's bedroom, or study, the living room was a long rectangular room perhaps thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. It had huge eight-foot leather couches arranged in a V in front of a massive television hung on the wall like a plasma filled picture frame. At the end of each couch was a mahogany table including one between where the couches came together. Twelve-foot, floor to ceiling windows ran across the wall behind the couches, and bookcases with odd pieces of art and literature surrounded the wall with the TV. The floor was plush cream-colored carpeting. Marci remarked at the size of the room, but Westin pretended not to hear, and Christine asked if anyone would like coffee.

When she had wandered to the kitchen, Westin took a moment to speak. The other three were spread out on one of the sofas, and beginning to relax, so he didn't want the moment to slip past him.

“I think I owe you all my gratitude. Thank you Todd for preventing me from beating that idiot into a puddle, and thank you girls for getting her down and free of the rope. None of you needed to come to the hospital, or follow us home tonight, but I appreciate it.”

Westin was smooth and heart-felt in his apology.

“Hey I think you guys helped immensely also. Honestly, thanks for sitting with me and helping us tonight. Coffee should be ready in a minute or two.”

Christine had stepped back in and was making her way to Westin's side.

Everyone still felt at fault, when Tara managed to steer the crowd to a familiar subject.

“Westin, you don't think I could see where you guys play do you?”

The blue haired vixen was smiling, and clearly curious.

“We just play in my bedroom, we don't really have too much going on.”

Westin deadpanned.

“Bullshit.” Exclaimed Todd at what he obviously thought was foolish.

“Fine, fine don't believe me. I'll show you what we do have though.”

Reluctantly he led them to the hallway, and flicked on the switch before opening the door to the basement and descending the stairs. He strode neatly into his dungeon, and held his arms wide. Enjoying their impressed looks when thy hit the doorway in turn.

“Here she is. Sir Westin's Dungeon.”

There were several murmurs, as Christine made her way to the center with him, and leaned on his arm. She was clearly using him for more than moral support, and Westin thought maybe he'd better get rid of the guests and allow her to bed.

“You lucky girl!” Todd exclaimed while looking at the walls. Then with a wink to Christine quite intent ally strode on Marci's boot adding another mark to her worn boots.

Marci looked slowly down at the boot, and then slowly up at Todd who continued to ignore the trespass. Finally she looked questioningly at Westin.

“Mi casa es su casa Marci” Westin grinned, and helped Christine to a chair he kept in the dungeon.

Meanwhile Tara was slowly walking up and down the wall of implements taking it all in.

She was clearly surprised that anyone would own so many just for their personal use, and that they had such a developed area having only been playing for a month or so.

Marci's voice knifed through the room like a bullet, and everyone except Westin who had seen her draw the breath for it jumped.

“Slave Todd, you have defiled my boot! Undress and kneel before me!”

She was standing before him with her hands menacingly on her hips. Todd immediately dropped his smile and jerked his shirt over his head and threw it to the side. He was rapidly unbuckling his pants when Westin noticed Christine's eyes had glazed over, and were threatening to close all together. Tara came to his side with a suggestion.

“Why don't you enjoy Marci's work, I'll run her to bed, she can show me the way.”

Westin was hesitant when he saw a slight spark in Tara's eye, but his eagerness to see Todd punished overrode it, and he acquiesced. Todd had now been stripped of all clothing, and wore only his steel collar. Marci had positioned him in front of the same table Westin and Christine had used when they first played in the basement.

“Put it on the table slave Todd.” Marci had ordered, and began to hop up onto the table's surface. Todd placed his flaccid penis on the tabletop, and looked up at his mistress.

“Hands on your head slave.” Todd immediately responded by lacing his fingers together atop his balding scalp.

“My boots are insulted slave, you will have to clean your arrogance off of them, and should your cleaning not impress me I will trod on you the same way I was insulted.”

Marci held one of the black leather boots out placing it on his chest for balance, and eyed her slave as her dropped his chin to lick at the boot.

Westin removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. He was getting hot, and it was a damn shame Christine was in no shape to participate. Sitting in the chair, he envisioned Christine with her tits on the table, kneeling and licking his loafers, hoping to please him so that he wouldn't stamp on her boobs.

Marci was clearly experienced, as was Todd, they moved well together, and even when she claimed the cleaning was sloppy and brought the toe of her foot down on his cock, Westin knew it had grown after the contact. She was now lashing him to the table and simultaneously searching the room for something to stick in his ass. Shortly she found a large candle, and noted aloud how nicely it plugged him, and masked his stench. Arms tied across the table, Todd could do little except keep his head up. Besides that he knew better. He wasn't much of a pain sub, and the penis abuse was about all he could handle. He wasn't going to earn himself more…especially not with the look on Marci's face when they had entered the room. Marci was now undressing, and climbed back up on the table fully nude.

Her body was actually rather pleasing to look at. She wasn't nearly as emaciated as Westin had first thought; perhaps her height altered the look. However, she had a very flat chest, and was built like a blonde rail. Not much ass, and the bumps of her vertebrae were visible beneath her skin. Straddling Todd's face, she locked her ankles over his back, and rested on her elbows commanding him to please her.

“Do a good job slave Todd, or I'll have to light that candle.” Slave Todd however did what was obviously a good job, and Marci's eyes closed with rapture.

“Christine wanted you to read this.” Tara had returned, and held a folded piece of paper in her outstretched hand. A bit surprised Westin reached for it and began to read.

‘Master,

Tara has offered to please you tonight, as I am unable. I'm falling asleep just writing this. Please allow her to be your pleasure tonight.

Christine'

Completely stunned Westin looked up to see that Tara was now kneeling in front of his chair. She looked back coyly, with a half smile on her lips. He did find the exotic looking girl appealing. But he had never once imagined that this lifestyle would lead to the girl he considered his true love encouraging him to seek pleasure in another.

“Whose idea was this?” he questioned.

“Her idea sir, she saw the way I was looking at you, and wanted you to be pleased tonight.”

The way she was looking at me? Did I miss something?

Finally he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and smiled back at her.

“I am not in the mood for any real play or punishment tonight. The evening was a disappointment for me.”

Tara's small hands went to his belt and she scooted forward putting her knees under the chair and spreading his legs. She undid his pants, and slipped his zippered fly down.

“Then just relax and watch those two.” She said as she pulled his member free and dropped her blue hair into his lap.