IN THE NEWS

       "I didn't even believe in hypnosis until I met Brian," Christy said. "I mean, yeah, I knew people actually claimed to be hypnotized and stuff, but I thought they had to be very weak-minded or suggestible or something. I figured it would never work on me. No way. I was too hard-headed, too in contact with reality. No way anybody could make me lose control of my own mind, you know? Well. Then Brian came along."

       "Thank God," I said.

       Christy gave me a look that was part rueful acknowledgment, part angry glare. "Sure, because this is the only way you can get a woman, right?"        

       "Suck me off, Christy," I said.

       "Bastard," Christy said, and she bent down and took me in her mouth.

       It wasn't me she was doing it for; it was Brian. He had sent her over with instructions to do anything I wanted for the next twelve hours. And anything Brian told her to do, she did.

       This was not the first time Christy had serviced me. Brian sent her over once a week or so, because he liked doing me favors, or so he said. What he really liked was the fact that, as part of my job as the city editor of the Daily Express, I was in a position to do him favors in return. Which I did. Because Christy was right--I didn't have a lot of luck with women. I'm not exactly young, and not exactly an Adonis, and I know it. Brian knew it too. They say every man has his price, and I suspect that's true, but the price is not always money.

       So Christy was used to this. I knew she didn't like it, she never made any bones about that, but then there were a lot of things she did for Brian that she found unpleasant. And I have to say right up front that that was okay with me. The fact that she was doing it against her will actually made it that much more exciting, to tell you the truth. Hey, we all have our little perversions and peculiarities, right?

       Christy's peculiarity was that she was completely under Brian's control. It wasn't fear--a lot of people were afraid of Brian, and with good reason, but Christy wasn't really a fearful person. And it certainly wasn't love--nobody loved Brian. Brian was just a fact of life. It was just as she said; he had hypnotized her, found the way to control her mind, and now, in effect, he owned her. Body and soul.

       "Tell me you love me, Christy," I said.

       Christy raised her head to look at me. I loved the look in her eyes. I knew she hated this. Somehow, even more than fucking me or sucking me off, it made her feel dirty to have to cater to my emotional manipulation as well. I could see the hatred in her eyes as she said, with no expression, "I love you."

       "No, Christy," I said, smiling at her. "Say it like you mean it. Make me believe it. Make it real."

       Christy took a long breath. I could see her trying to suppress her distaste and her anger, to get herself into the part she had to play. She was an actress, after all. And a good one. When she spoke again her eyes were soft, almost glowing as they looked into mine. "I love you, Michael," she whispered, and her voice was tender and utterly sincere.

       "Say it again," I said.

       "I love you," Christy said. "I love you so much, Michael." And no stranger, hearing her or looking at her, would ever have suspected the intense disgust and humiliation she was feeling as she said those words. But I knew, and it thrilled me to my soul.

       "You sweet lying bitch," I said, grinning at her. "Now suck my dick till I come down your throat."

       And she did.

                         #

       "So who do you hate more," I asked her an hour later. "Me or Brian?"

       "I don't know," Christy said. "Don't worry about it. There's enough hate to go around. Probably I hate myself most of all."

       "For not being ahle to get away from Brian?"

       "For not doing it, not for not being able to. Getting away from him is not the problem. I could do that any time. Brian isn't keeping me prisoner, not physically. He doesn't have to. He's got this hold on my mind, and I have to do what he says. He says to stay with him, and I do. He tells me to go to you and do whatever you want, and I do. If he told me to jump out the window I'd have to do it. It's sick, but that's how it is. That's why I hate myself."

       "But if Brian told you to do whatever I say, and I told you to jump out the window, that means you'd do it, right?"

       Christy nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose I would. But then, of course, you'd have to deal with Brian."

       "Yeah, well, forget that then. Anyway, I can have a lot more fun with you alive than dead. Want me to demonstrate?"

       "Do I have a choice?" Christy asked

       "No."

                        #

       Christy left the next morning, when my twelve hours were up. I had tried, as always, to make the most of them, and I was exhausted. But I had to go in to work; the paper wouldn't get out by itself, and the damn job had almost as strong a hold on me as Brian had on Christy.

       At eight o'clock I was walking through the City Room toward my office, cardboard coffee cup in hand. When I came to the door of my assistant editor's office I opened it without knocking. "Dave, I want to move the morning meeting to--" I said, and stopped short.

       Dave Charney, assistant city editor, thirty-seven, married with two children, was standing at one side of his desk with his pants and shorts around his ankles, pounding away at a young blonde woman who was bent over the desk, her skirt up around her waist, her blouse undone and her panties lying on the floor.

       "Shit!" Dave said. He stopped moving, but didn't pull out of the girl. She made a kind of startled noise and turned her face away, while trying to hide her breasts by pressing her upper body flat on the desk and sheltering it with her arms. "Close the door, for Christ sake!" Dave said, and I did, but not before stepping inside.

       "Jesus, kind of early in the morning for this, isn't it, Dave?" I said.

       "It's never too early, Michael," he said, trying to grin at me. "You know that. I was just...um... interviewing Miss, uh, Garron, Miss Garron here, for the opening in rewrite. She's, uh, she's had..."

       "I'm sure she's got great qualifications," I said. "I can see some of them from here. Of course I'll want to interveiw her too. Send her to me when you're finished, okay?"

       "Sure, Michael," Dave said. The young woman made another sound, but I couldn't tell what it meant.

       "Meanwhile I'm moving the morning meeting up an hour. Let everybody know." And I left.

       About twenty minutes later there was a knock on my open door. I looked up to see the blonde girl standing there, holding a small briefcase in one hand. She was fully clothed now, but the clothes couldn't hide the ripe curves of her body. She was also, I saw, very pretty, though the look on her face was one of almost comical chagrin, mixed with apprehension.

       "Come on in," I said. "And close the door."

       She did so, a bit hesitantly. "I--Look," she said as she approached my desk. "I'm sorry about--about what you saw. It was--I mean--"

       "Don't worry about it," I said. "Have a seat, Miss...sorry, what was it again?"

       "Garron. Stella Garron. I--I was--I'm applying for the job in rewrite, and--"

       "And you thought fucking the assistant city editor would help you get it. Was that his idea or yours?"

       She flushed. "It wasn't--I mean, he didn't make it like a condition or anything. Not like that. He just--well, kind of made a pass at me, and I--" She looked down, flushing more deeply. "Well, I guess I figured it wouldn't hurt my chances." She looked back up at me, almost defiantly. "Look, I really need this job, all right? And it's not like he was old and ugly or anything, so I--I mean..."

       "I get it," I said. "So you need the job, and I assume you have Dave's approval, but I'm the one who makes the final decision. Does that mean you'll fuck me too?"

       She just looked at me for a long minute, her face unreadable. Then she looked down again. She said nothing.

       "I take that for a yes," I said. "And the fact is, Miss Garron, on any other day I would probably love to take you up on it. But I happen to have had a very active night last night, and right now I doubt that I could rise to the occasion, even for such an attractive package as you. So why don't you leave me your resume and so on, and maybe come back another day, okay?"

       She sat still for a moment, then started to reach into her briefcase for her papers. But she stopped. "It won't do any good, will it?" she said flatly. "You're not going to give me the job."

       "I don't know," I said. "I'll have to look over your resume, and I'll probably be interviewing other applicants as well, but--"

       She was biting her lip. "Look," she said. "Please. I do need this, and I'm really qualified. And--" She looked straight at me again. "And if now is not the right time, you can--we can--you know, I mean whenever you feel..." She broke off and looked down again.

       Something about her need, her near-desperation, was beginning to get to me. I wanted to explore it a little. "Whenever?" I said. "Do you mean any time, Miss Garron? You mean after you start working here I can have you any time I want you? Is that what you're saying, Miss Garron?"

       She looked at me again, her eyes wide. "That's...that's not what I meant," she breathed. "I just--I meant instead of now. Some other time. Not..."

       "Just once, you mean. I get to fuck you once, you get to work here forever, is that it?"

       "I--Well, I--"

       "But suppose I say that's not enough, Miss Garron. Suppose I say okay, I'll give you the job, but I get to fuck you as much as I want, any time I want, and the first time you refuse me I'll fire you. What do you say to that?"

       She didn't say anything. She looked a little pale. I could see her struggling with herself. My excitement was growing. It was arousing to think that I was pushing her farther than she wanted to go, that she was being forced by her own desire for the job to consider giving in to my demand. Suddenly the exhaustion of my night with Christy was fading away.

       "Is that--is that what you're saying?" she asked finally.

       I was torn. Now I was hot enough that I wanted that fine young body, and if I pushed her too hard I might not get it at all. On the other hand...

       "Yes," I said. "That's what I'm saying."

       She bit at her lip again. Her struggle was still going on, but after a minute she seemed to resolve it--and not in my favor. She swallowed and got up. "I can't," she said in a low voice. "I know I--I know you think--because of what I've--but I'm not a whore. I--I can't." And she picked up her briefcase and headed for the door.

       I let her go. I had gambled and lost, and there was no sense trying to take back the bet.

       But when she got to the door she stopped. Her hand was on the knob, but it was as if she couldn't turn it. She stood there motionless, with her back to me, but even from that view I could see that the struggle had resumed again. She must have stood that way for half a minute. I didn't say anything. Just watched her.

       Then something seemed to go out of her. Her body didn't exactly sag, but there was a definite, if subtle, change in her posture. Finally, slowly, she took her hand off the doorknob and turned to face me. The expression on her face was indescribable.

       "All right," she said, very low. "All right. I'll do it."

       I was suddenly wild with lust. But I didn't let her see it. "Are you sure?" I asked her.

       She nodded slowly.

       "Any time I want," I said, rubbing it in. "As often as I want. Any way I want. Right, Miss Garron?"

       "Yes," she whispered.

       "Good," I said. "We'll start now. Lock the door."

       Unlike Dave Charney's office, mine had a little gizmo in the door that you could turn to lock it from the inside. Stella hesitated only a moment, then turned it. "Come," I said, and she moved slowly toward me, leaving her briefcase behind.

       I turned my chair sideways behind my desk and motioned for her to come around and stand in front of me, which she did. I looked her up and down with deliberate appreciation. Her straight blonde hair flowed past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep green. Her breasts filled out her blouse beautifully, and now they rose and fell provocatively as she stood there. Her skirt stopped just above her knees, and her calves were as shapely as any I had seen. I had seen her naked, of course, although briefly, on Dave's desk, and I knew that the rest of her was just as attractive. And yet as luscious as that body was, it was less her person than her situation that had me so aroused.

       "All right, Stella," I said. "If you want this job so much, let's see you beg for it."

       She stared at me. "You want me to--"

       "Beg for it," I said. "On your knees."

       Comprehension came into her eyes. She knew where this was going. Slowly she sank down to kneel in front of me, and when I spread my legs apart she moved forward on her knees to get closer.

       "Beg," I said.

       "Please," Stella said in a low voice. "Please give me the job. Please."

       I reached down and unzipped my fly, then pulled out my cock. I was hard. Very hard.

       "Show me how much you want it," I said.

       Again there was a barely perceptible moment of hesitation, and then she bent her head and took me in her mouth.

       She was good, there was no doubt about that. She took it all, and she held it in her mouth for a long moment while she bathed it with her tongue, and the tongue continued to work as she began slowly to suck me. I clasped the arms of my chair tightly to keep myself from giving way to that first rush of pleasure, and even when the moment had safely passed I had to be careful not to shoot too quickly as I gazed down at her bobbing blonde head. Again, it was not so much the physical sensation that drove my lust, although that was considerable, but the fact that she was doing this, if not exactly against her will, at least against her inclination. This was something different from what she had done with Dave, I felt, even though she had done that for the same reason. With Dave there had been a sense of a mutual agreement, an even trade; whereas now there was an element of reluctance which appeared to give rise, on her part, to a feeling of self-disgust, even of shame, which turned me on like crazy, and again I wondered how far I could take it.

       "That's enough, Stella," I said after a few minutes, and she stopped and looked up at me. "I want to fuck you now," I told her. "But I don't want Dave's sloppy seconds. He didn't fuck you in the ass, did he?"

       Her eyes went wide for a moment, and I saw her swallow. But she shook her head.

       "Then I will," I said. "Get up and bend over."

       She stood up, a little awkwardly, and a moment later she was bending over the end of my desk, just as she had done with Dave. I moved behind her and lifted her skirt, bunching it around her waist and tucking it under her. Then I pulled her panties down around her thighs. Her ass was as pretty as the rest of her, plump and round and firm. I put my hands on it, rubbing her smooth buttocks, and then leaned forward and rested my cock in the crack between them. I could hear her breathing a bit harder with apprehension.

       "Please," Stella whispered. "Be gentle. Please."

       "I'll be any way I want," I said. "That was the deal, remember? Any way I want. Right, Stella?"

       "Yes," she said faintly.

       But I was gentle. What I was after wasn't her pain, it was her humiliation. Even degradation. And I could achieve that just as well, possibly even better, by being slow and deliberate. Which I was. My cock was wet with her saliva, which gave me a certain amount of lubrication, but her ass was very tight and it was not easy going. I didn't force it, but once I got the tip of my cock in there I began to move steadily, with small but persistant strokes, gradually gaining ground, going a little deeper each time. Stella was panting and making little grunting sounds, but she didn't try to resist, and after a little time her sphincter muscles relaxed enough to let me through, and from then on it was easier. I continued to fuck her slowly, and the sounds from her mouth got louder, though I wasn't sure if they were sounds of pleasure or distress, or both. Her upper body lay flat on the desk, her arms stretched out to either side as she clutched at the edges. I leaned forward and slid my hands under her to cup her blouse-covered breasts. Through the material I could feel that her nipples were stiff. I moved a little harder, going deeper into her ass until I couldn't go any further. I knew I was almost ready to come. I paused for a minute, holding off the moment and savoring the sweetness of it. Stella moaned.

       "You like this, Stella?" I panted.

       She just moaned again.

       "Remember you said you weren't a whore, Stella?" I said. "But look at you now. Sucking my cock and letting me fuck you in the ass. For a job. What do you call that, Stella?"

       "Oh god..." she whimpered. "Please..."

       I started to move in her again. "I guess you're a whore after all, Stella," I said. "Isn't that right? Isn't it, Stella?"

       "Yes," she breathed.

       "Say it," I said, moving harder.

       "I'm a whore," she choked out, and then she gave a small sob.

       And with that I came like gangbusters.

                      #

       I was ten minutes late for the morning meeting. But I was the boss, so nobody complained. They didn't really mind anyway; it gave them ten minutes longer away from their desks. I took my place at the head of the long table, looking around to make sure everybody was there. Dave, at the other end of the table, gave me a wink, but I didn't acknowledge it. About a dozen others were sitting around, drinking coffee, eating snacks, yacking away. Four of them were women, but Shirley, our business reporter, was in her sixties and not-so-pleasingly plump, and Sara, chief copyeditor, was a nice girl but not exactly what you would call sexually attractive. Of the others, one was a young brunette, fairly new at the paper, whose name I kept forgetting, and the other was Denise. Denise, the head of rewrite, was a tall redhead of around thirty-five, with a good body but a sharp tongue, a real no-nonsense type who kept everyone at arm's length. She usually wore tailored suits to work, although with skirts rather than slacks, which was good, because she had terrific legs. I thought she was probably a lesbian, but I wasn't sure. I had never seen her be anything but stand-offish with a man, but then I'd never seen her particularly friendly with a woman either.

       "Okay, guys," I said, and they quieted down. "First of all, Denise, you'll be glad to know I've hired someone for that spot in rewrite, so you can stop bugging me about it, okay?"

       "About time," Denise said. "I hope he can read."

       "It's a she," I told her. "And I think she'll qualify."

       "Yeah," Dave put in with a grin. "Mike tested her out, right, Mike?"

       Dave talked too much. "Yeah, I asked her to spell 'cat' and she got it right," I said. "So she's as literate as anybody else around here."

       There was a chorus of jeers. Denise was sitting to my right, and under cover of the noise she leaned over to murmur into my ear, "More likely you asked her to spell 'pussy.'"

       I grinned at her wickedly. "I'd like to spell yours sometime," I said.

       "Spell or smell?" she shot back.

       "Anything you want, baby." This had been going on for years between Denise and me. I knew it would never go anywhere, but it passed the time.

       The rest of the meeting was uneventful. When it was over I pulled Dave aside as he was going out the door. "Don't be so free with your mouth, Dave, okay?" I said to him. "It might come back to bite you. And you're married, remember?"

       He stared at me. "Well, you're not," he said. "So why should you care? You did bang the bitch, didn't you? What's the problem?"

       "No problem, just be a little discreet, for Christ sake. And by the way, the girl's gonna be working here, so leave her alone from now on, okay?"

       "Keeping her for yourself, huh?" he grinned. "Can't say I blame you. Nice piece of ass. Okay, no problem." And he walked off.

       Not for the first time, I reflected that it was a lucky thing for Dave that he was so good at his job.

                        #

       At first I thought I would be fucking Stella every damn day. I mean, here I was with an attractive young girl at my disposal, so to speak, a girl I could have any time I wanted. It was a dream come true. She was at my beck and call, sort of like Christy was with Brian, except that Christy had no choice, at least as long as Brian could keep her mind under his control. But Stella had a choice; fucking me was just the price she agreed to pay for keeping her job. She had done it of her own free will, even though she hadn't wanted to, and had agreed to keep on doing it only because she needed what I could give her. That fact alone gave me a thrill every time I thought of it. So naturally I expected to be taking advantage of her situation, and of her body, every damn chance I got.

       But the fact was that after that first time nearly a week went by before I even saw Stella again. Not that I forgot about her or anything. Just about every morning, as I was going in to work, I thought, man, today I'm definitely gonna fuck that sweet blonde pussy. Often during the day I thought about just picking up the phone and summoning her to my office. But something always came up, there was always something to take care of, always a deadline looming, and somehow I just never got around to it. Once, at the morning meeting, I asked Denise how the new girl was doing. "She's okay," Denise said. She didn't say it enthusiastically, but Denise was never enthusiastic about anything. "Seems to know what she's doing. And god knows the guys like her."

       I'll bet they do, I thought. Damn, today I've damn well got to remind her of our deal. But I was too busy that day. And the next day too.

       Then one night as I was leaving the building a bit later than usual after a particularly hectic day, I ran into Stella leaving too. She looked a little flustered when she saw me.

       "Hi, Stella," I said. "Working late?"

       "Well, I--I just had something I wanted to finish up, and..." She shrugged.

       She looked terrific, in a green dress and green high-heeled shoes, carrying a tiny purse. Her hair was smooth and her face was immaculately made up, as though she had freshened herself up before leaving. My cock began to stir.

       "I've been thinking about you, Stella," I told her. I could see a sudden apprehension in her face, and her eyes shifted toward the outer door. My cock was stiffening rapidly. "Tell you what," I said. "I think I left something in my office. Why don't you come back with me while I get it."

       "I--I can't," she said hastily. "I have to go. I need to--I'm supposed to--I mean--"

       "Whatever it is, it'll wait," I said. "Come on."

       I reached out to take her arm, but she pulled back. "But I--I really..."

       "Stella," I said.

       I saw her swallow. "Yes?" Her voice was low.

       "Remember our deal?" I said.

       Her mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. "Yes," she whispered. "But--"

       "The deal was anytime I wanted," I said. "Right, Stella?"  

       "I--yes."

       "I want it now," I said. "Right now. Let's go, Stella."

       For a moment I thought she was going to cry. But she didn't. She hesitated for another moment, but then she came with me.

       Her obvious reluctance was driving me wild. "What's under the dress, Stella?" I asked her as we walked back toward my office. Most of the day staff had gone, and the night guys were just starting to come in, so there weren't a lot of people around.

       She threw me a startled glance. "What's--" she repeated.

       "Yes, what's under the dress? Tell me."        

       "My--my bra," she got out. "And--and panties. Why?"

       I stopped walking, and she stopped too. We were in a deserted part of the hallway, just around the corner from my office. "Take the panties off," I said.

       She stared at me. I waited.

       "You mean...right here?" she whispered.

       "Right here."

       She looked around wildly. "But--"

       "There's nobody here," I said. "But there could be any minute. So you better do it fast. Here, I'll hold that for you." I reached out and took her little purse from her hand and stuck it in my jacket pocket.

       Her face was a study. "What--why are you--"

       I slapped her face. I didn't know I was going to do it, I just did it. As soon as I did I knew I had gone too far. What was I doing? She might need her job enough to fuck for it, even to take a little degradation, but physical abuse was something else. If she decided that was too much she could get me in real trouble, and I might be the one who was out of a job. If not worse. For a moment I stood there almost paralyzed. I even thought about apologizing to her. But I said nothing.

       Stella's eyes were wide with shock. Then suddenly there were tears in them, and she began to sob softly. And as she did so she lifted up the skirt of her dress and took hold of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs.

       Suddenly my cock was straining at my pants. I stood there and watched her as she pulled the light blue panties down over her sculpted thighs, then bent forward a little to push them past her knees, straightening up again as they dropped around her ankles. Her sobs were very faint, but they were there. I was throbbing with lust.

       "Off," I said. "All the way, Stella."

       She had to lean up against the wall for support as she kicked off one high-heeled shoe so she could slide her foot out of the panties. Then, standing awkwardly on that foot, she raised the other so that she could slip the shoe and the panties off with her hand. Her awkwardness made it even more erotic. I held out my hand for the panties and she gave them to me. I put them in my pocket. Her sobs were subsiding, but her eyes were wet, and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

       I thought I was going to explode. My office was jsut a few steps away, but I couldn't wait. Besides, I wanted to push her further. "Pull up your dress, Stella," I said.

       She stared at me, then looked around wildly. I could hear faint voices from somewhere, but no one was in sight. This was a risk, but right then I didn't care. "Hurry up," I said.

       She made a little sound in her throat, then took hold of the skirt of her dress and pulled it up over her knees. "All the way," I said. "All the way up. And hold it there."

       "But--"

       "Do I have to slap you again?" I said. My blood was pounding.

       Stella pulled the skirt up to her waist. I gazed at her curvy upper thighs and the blonde patch of pubic hair. I reached down and unzipped my pants, taking out my very hard cock. Stella made a noise again, something between a gasp and a whimper.

       "Spread your legs," I told her, moving closer.

       Again she looked around wildly. "Oh god, we--"

       I slapped her again.            

       With a low, despairing moan, Stella spread her feet apart, leaning against the wall. I was crazy. I knew it, but I didn't care. I reached around with my left hand to clasp one of her ass cheeks, pulling her forward slightly. With my other hand I lined my penis up with her vaginal opening. It wasn't exactly wet, but it was slippery enough to allow me to push in, aided by the pre-come that was oozing from my dick. She drew in her breath sharply.

       I put my other hand under her ass so I was holding a buttock in each hand. "Put your legs around me," I panted.

       Stella was sobbing again, but she obeyed. With her back against the wall, my hands under her ass and her legs clasped around my body, I began to fuck her as hard as I could. I could still hear voices and movements, but for some reason no one had yet appeared in the hallway where we were. I didn't know what I would do if they did. Stella was emitting a small cry with each thrust I made, not loud but quite distinct. I didn't know if they were cries of pain or passion, or both. Or something else entirely.

       I drew back my head to look at her face. Tears were trickling from her eyes, which were closed, but her mouth was open and gasping. Without knowing I was going to do it, I put my mouth on hers. Her lips were slack and unresponsive. I pushed my tongue into her mouth. She gave no sign of being aware of it.

       Pressing her harder against the wall, I released one of her buttocks and brought my hand up to her hair, tugging at it to pull her head back sharply. Her eyes flew open and this time her cry was definitely one of pain.

       "Kiss me, Stella," I grunted. "Kiss me nice."

       I let go of her hair, my hand returning to her ass. With a whimpering sound she pressed her mouth to mine. I could feel the wetness on her face. She was gasping unevenly into my mouth, but her lips molded to mine, and when I put my tongue in her mouth this time she met it with hers.

       A surge of such lust ran through me that I couldn't hold back, and without warning I burst inside her, shooting again and again. Just as my spasms were winding down I heard more voices, this time definitely approaching the corridor where we were. "Hold on to me," I gasped out, and I carried her that way, moving awkwardly but quickly, around the corner to my office. Her high-heeled shoes, which she had removed to take off her panties, still lay on the floor in the hall. Nothing I could do about that. The hell with it. I carried her into my office and kicked the door shut. Then I collapsed with her to the floor.

       I landed on top of her. She was still clutching me with her arms and legs, but now she let them fall away. My penis had slipped out of her and was now limp, but to my surprise it was already beginning to stir again weakly as I felt her body under mine. She began to slide from beneath me, but I held onto her.

       "Don't go away, Stella," I said, somewhat breathless from my exertions. I moved my lower body against hers. "This is nice."

       "Please," Stella said, panting also. "I have...I have to..."

       "You have to what?" I said. I was still fully dressed, just my dick exposed as it stuck out of my fly. Stella still had her dress on, though the skirt was around her hips and there was nothing under it but her bare pussy. I began to run my hand over her body.

       "Please," she said again. "I did...you did...what you want, now I...I've got to..."

       "You have an appointment, Stella?" I said. "I noticed that you were looking extra nice as you were leaving. You have a date, maybe?"

       "I...I have...I'm supposed to meet..."

       "A man?" I said. I slid my hand up to her breast, feeling it, squeezing it lightly through her dress. Then the other breast. I was using the other hand, along with the weight of my body, to keep her from moving away. Seeing it was useless, she now stopped squirming and lay limp. "You're meeting a man, Stella?"

       "Yes." Flatly.

       "A date?" Her dress had buttons down the front. I began to open them. She brought her hand up as if to stop me, but let it fall again with a tiny whimper. "Is this a date, Stella?" I said. "Don't make me ask you everything twice."

       "I...yes." It was almost whispered. "I guess so." 

       "Your boyfriend?" I opened more buttons, revealing her bra, which hooked in the front. How convenient.

       "No," Stella said in that low, flat voice. She wasn't looking at me; her head was turned to one side and she was looking toward my office window. I unfastened the remaining buttons down to her waist, and then spread the top of the dress open.

       "Who is it, then?" I said. "Somebody you know? Is this a first date, Stella, or just a fuck buddy or what?"

       "No," she said. "Please, what does it matter?"

       "I'm just curious," I said. I unhooked her bra and bared her breasts. "How did you meet this guy, on the Internet or what?"

       "No," she said reluctantly. "A friend introduced us. He--I don't know him that well, he just--he called and..."

       "So this is a first date." I put my mouth on her right breast and sucked on it, tonguing the nipple. She made a sound. My cock was very hard.

       When I raised my head from her breast I said, "I guess you'll be keeping him waiting, Stella. Poor guy. Where are you meeting him? A restaurant?"

       "Yes," she whispered.

       "Let him wait," I said, and put my mouth on her other breast. I wanted to stick my dick in her again right then and there, but I held back. I ran my hands over her as I nibbled at her nipple. Then I pulled away and stood up. Stella began to get up too, but I stopped her.

       "Just stay where you are, Stella," I said, and she lay back with a little moan. The sight of her like that, with her skirt rucked up over her legs and her breasts pushing out of the front of her dress, was fantastic. I began to pull my clothes off, and she moaned again.

       Then I had an idea. "You know what, Stella?" I said as I undressed. "It's really not very polite of you to stand up this poor guy and not even let him know you're gonna be late. I bet you have his cell phone number, right, Stella? Just in case something came up. Am I right?"

       Stella said nothing.

       When I finished undressing I pulled her little purse out of my jacket pocket, opened it and dumped the contents out onto my desk. Lipstick, compact, cell phone, a few tissues--and sure enough, a little piece of yellow paper with something written on it. 'Larry. 417-932-1094.'

       "Aha," I said. "Larry. That's the guy, right?"

       "Please," Stella said softly.

       "Just common courtesy, Stella," I said. I picked up her cell phone and the paper and crouched down to give them to her. "I think you should call up poor Larry and tell him that you're going to be late meeting him. And why, of course."

       She looked at me now, tears swimming in her eyes. She shook her head slowly, not as if saying no, but as if in incomprehension. "Why--why are you doing this?" she whispered.

       "Because I feel like it," I said, which was as true an answer as I could come up with at that moment. "Now take the phone and call him." I held the phone out to her, but she didn't move. I thought of slapping her again, but my hands were occupied, and anyway the angle wasn't right. "Do it, Stella," I said. "You want to keep your job, don't you?"

       She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "It isn't fair," she breathed. "I said I'd--" she swallowed. "The arrangement was about sex," she went on. "That I would--that you could have me when you wanted me. Not that you could make me--that you could force me to--to do things like..."

       "I'm changing the deal," I said. I was gambling again, knowing I was probably pushing too hard and that she might walk out on the job, and me, any minute. But I had to find out. I had a sense that there was something deep inside this girl, something more than the need to keep her job, that drove her to submit to my demands, not only against her better judgement but against her conscious will and desire. That instinct drove me wild, and I had to pursue it, to push her as far as she would go, even at the risk of losing her completely. "From now on the deal is that you do what I tell you to do. Anything I tell you to do. Sexual or not. You understand, Stella?"

       She looked at me a moment and then shook her head, and this time it was a negative shake. "You can't do that," she said.

       "I just did it," I said. "I'm the boss, Stella, and if I feel like changing the terms, they get changed. Period."

       "No," Stella said. "I can't do that. How can I--It would be--No. That's--No."

       But she didn't get up. I wasn't touching her now, she wasn't restrained. But she didn't move.

       I stood up myself, moving away from her. "Okay," I said. "Then you're fired, Stella. You can go now." My heart was pounding as I waited to see what she would do.

       She didn't move. She said, "Please."

       "Please what?" I said.

       "I need this job," she said pleadingly.

       "You know what, Stella?" I said. "I think that's bullshit. You might need a job all right, but I don't think you're that damn desperate. You're an attractive and qualified young woman, and there are other papers in town, and if you couldn't get on one of them right away, there's plenty of other things you can do. I think you tell yourself you're desperate so you can have an excuse for--" I hesitated. "Well, for doing this." I gestured at her there on the floor. "You can't admit it to yourself, but I think what you really need is--"

       "No!" Stella shouted suddenly. "You bastard son of a bitch!" And then she turned over onto her front and began to sob wildly into the carpet. She pounded the floor with her fists, her body twisting and jerking as she cried and cried.

       I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I let her cry until she had exhausted herself. I could only hope nobody outside would hear her loud sobbing, but I went over and locked the door, just in case.

       Finally the crying stopped, and she lay there, still face down on the carpet, panting and gasping with her uneven breathing.

       "Turn over, Stella," I said.

       It took her several long moments, but finally she turned over and lay on her back again. Her face was a mess. Tracks of tears ran down her cheeks, some of her mascara had run, her lipstick was smeared and her eyes were puffy. But that did nothing to diminish my passion. I handed her some of the tissues from her purse, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then I handed her the cell phone again, and this time, with a kind of despairing moan, she took it.

       "Now call him," I said, and I read the number to her from the yellow paper. I could see tears starting up in her eyes again, but she blinked them away as she started to press the phone buttons. Her fingers were shaking.

       "Wait a minute," I said. I got down and stretched my naked body over hers. I pulled her legs apart and positioned my cock at the entrance to her pussy. Then I thrust all the way into her with one hard stroke. Stella gave a cry.

       "Now," I said. "Now call him, Stella."

       I lay still, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy around my dick and her body underneath me as Stella proceeded slowly and awkwardly to punch in the numbers. Her hands shook as before, and she had to keep blinking away the moisture in her eyes, but she did it.

       "Remember," I said, "you're going to apologize for being late, and then you're going to tell him the reason. And no lies, Stella, okay?"

       She just stared at me with an indescribable, almost blank expression, as though she had no idea who the hell I was or what I was doing inside her body. Then she caught her breath as her call was evidently answered.

       "Hello...Larry?" she said in a faint, unsteady voice. "Yes, it's...it's Stella." She closed her eyes and bit at her lip as I began to move slowly inside her. "I...Larry, I'm...I'm sorry. I can't...I'm going to be...kind of late, I'm..." There was a pause. "Yes, I was...I got held up...at the office, and I..."

       I was moving steadily now, not hard, but sliding the length of my dick in and out of her. "Tell him what you're doing," I said. Her eyes came open again. There was a kind of plea in them. I smiled at her, moving harder. "Tell him what you're doing, Stella," I said again. I didn't care if he heard me. I didn't care about anything.

       "I'm..." Stella breathed. "Larry, I...my...my boss is..." She was panting, almost unable to speak.

       "Fucking you," I said. "Tell him, Stella. Tell him you're fucking your boss. Tell him."

       "I'm...I'm fucking my boss," Stella choked out, her voice catching. She began to sob again. "I'm sorry, Larry," she gasped. "I can't...he's fucking me...Larry...and I...I can't..."

       I was moving faster now. My head was spinning. "Tell him you'll fuck him too," I said. I didn't even think about it, I just said it. Stella made a moaning sound. "Tell him, Stella. Tell him if he waits for you you'll fuck him tonight. Tell him you'll fuck his brains out. Tell him, damn it!"

       "L-Larry? I..." There was a pause, and I didn't know if it was because she couldn't get the words out, or because Larry was saying something on the other end. "I'll fuck you too, Larry," she said then, her voice sounding as if the words were coming from someone else, a very long way off. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I will. Yes. Yes I will. Yes. Oh god yes."

       "Good girl," I said. I took the phone from her hand, snapped it closed and tossed it aside. Then I started fucking her as hard as I could, knowing I couldn't last for another minute. And Stella, to my great surprise, gave a loud animal groan and started to go crazy beneath me, flinging her arms and legs around me and pulling me closer to her, her body bucking and twisting beneath me. Her cries filled the air, swiftly rising in intensity, and then suddenly she was coming, convulsing explosively again and again and taking me over the edge as I shot everything I had left inside her.

       "Well I'll be damned," I said.

                       #

       It took Stella a little time to compose herself. I was almost fully dressed by the time she stopped crying and sat up. I gave her a hand to help her up off the floor, and she got to her feet and quickly fastened her bra and buttoned up her dress. The skirt of the dress was still around her hips, and she pulled it down, trying to smooth it out. Her panties were still in my jacket pocket.

       "Your dress is pretty wrinkled in the front there, Stella," I said. "But that's okay, I don't think Larry will mind much, do you?"

       She wasn't looking at me. "I'm not--" she said. "I can't...meet him now. I couldn't."

       "Sure you can, Stella," I said. "You wouldn't want to disappoint the poor guy, would you? After what you told him on the phone and all?"

       She gave me a quick look of apprehension, then glanced away again. She found her purse where I had dropped it on my desk, then took out her compact and the remaining tissues and started to fix her face as well as she could.   

       "So you are going to keep your date, right, Stella?" I said.

       "No," she said. Still not looking at me. The word sounded more like a plea than a definite reply. I felt a kind of elation that was more than sexual. I leaned against my desk and smiled at her.

       "Yes you are, Stella," I said. "You're going to meet this man just as you planned, and you're going to apologize to him very nicely and sincerely for being late, and then you're going to have a nice dinner, and after that you're going to go home with him and do what you told him you would do."

       She looked at me then. She was shaking her head, but as before, it was as much in disbelief or instinctive denial as in defiance. "Wait," she said. Her voice was unsteady. "I can't--you can't just--I'm not--you can't just tell me to--"

       "Yes I can, Stella," I said. "We've established that already, remember? The new rules. Now I want you to meet old Larry and be very nice to him, and I want you to fuck him, Stella. Like you told him you would. I want you to fuck him any way he wants, and do it well. I want you to fuck him all night long if that's what he wants. And then tomorrow--"

       "Please," Stella said. It was just a whisper. "Please."

       "And then tomorrow," I went on, "I want you to come to me here and tell me all about it. In detail. You understand, Stella?"

       She said nothing.

       I picked up her purse and handed it to her. "Go now, Stella. I'm sure Larry will wait for you, but you don't want to tax his patience too much. If he leaves before you get there I will be very unhappy, Stella."

       "I--" she choked out. I saw her swallow. I thought she was trembling a little. When she spoke again I could hardly hear her. "I need my--May I have my panties, please?"

       "No," I said.  

                       #

       She came to my office the next morning, just as ordered. I had spent a pretty restless night. Thinking about Stella and what I had done with her, and what I might do with her in the future, kept me hard most of the time, and once or twice I actually found myself jerking off. But when my lustful thoughts subsided, I was also a little worried, thinking I might have allowed things to get a bit out of hand. What might she have told this Larry guy, for instance. He must have heard me on the phone, ordering her to say what I wanted. Surely he would be curious. How much would she tell him, and what would he do about it, if anything? It was obvious that Stella had a strong submissive instinct, but she didn't seem very happy about it. That was what was so intriguing to me about her, that combination of her hidden inner need and her equally strong instinct not to give in to it. I had broken through her defenses, but what if, away from me, they took over? She could get me in a lot of trouble. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I would just have to wait and see.

       She was wearing a blue shirt and a dark wraparound skirt, looking much more casual than she had the day before, but no less attractive, though her face looked a little tired. "Close the door," I said to her as she came in. "And lock it."

       Her eyes closed for a brief moment, then opened, and she did as I said. Her face was expressionless. "I see you had time to go home and change," I said.

       She nodded. "This morning. Just before I came in."

       "So you spent the night at Larry's house." I indicated the chair across from my desk, and she went to it and sat down.

       "Yes."

       "Tell me about it."

       "What do you want to know?" she said. Her manner was somewhat brittle, her voice even and unemotional. She did not avoid looking at me, but there was not much sense of connection when she did.

       "Everything. Start from the beginning. Tell me what you said to him, and what he said to you. All of it. Well, the parts I might be interested in, anyway. And then you can tell me how you fucked him. You did fuck him, right?"

       "Of course I did," Stella said. "Isn't that what you told me to do? You threatened me with my job. I had no choice."

       "Stella," I said, "let's cut out the bullshit right now. I told you yesterday I don't believe you're doing this to keep your job. Maybe you have to keep telling yourself that to justify yourself, but deep down you know better, Stella, and so do I."

       Stella shook her head.        

       "Come on, Stella," I said. "You don't need this job that much. You know it and I know it. With your looks and your abilities, you can walk out of here right now and find something just as good." I took a deep breath. I was about to take a really big gamble here, one that could destroy any chance I had of any further explorations with this girl--explorations to which I was really looking forward. But I had to be sure of her. It was the only way.

       "Why don't you do that, Stella?" I said. "Just get up and walk away, right now. You'll be free then, you won't have to fuck me anymore, you won't have to follow my orders, you won't have to do anything you don't want to do. Go on, just get up and leave. What are you waiting for?"

       Stella's eyes were on mine, but I couldn't read anything in them. Her face was still expressionless. She looked at me for a long time. Then she said, flatly: "Fuck you."

       But she didn't move.

       She didn't move.

       "Well, you've already done that, Stella," I said after a pause. "And it looks like you're going to be doing it again. Many times. Now tell me about Larry. He was still waiting when you got there, right?"

       "Yes."

       "Of course. And what did he say."

       "'Hello.'"

       "Come on, Stella."

       She gave a little sigh. "All right, fine. He was curious, obviously. He wanted to know what was going on."

       "And what did you tell him?"

       "I told him the truth."

       "You told him the truth."

       "Yes. I told him I was sleeping with my boss in order to keep my job, and that my boss was a little weird. I told him how you had kept me late and done it with me in your office, and how you had made me call him up and tell him what I told him."

       "And what did he say to that?"

       "He said that was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard in his life."

       "That's all he said?"

       "Well, then he asked me if I was really going to fuck him, like I said."        

       "And what did you say?"

       "I said yes. I said you had told me to, and I needed my job, so I would."

       "And that was fine with him."

       She shrugged. "He didn't seem to have any objections."

       I nodded. Then after a moment I said, "And what about you, Stella?"

       "What about me?"

       "Did you have any objections? Did you want to fuck this man, Stella?"

       There was a pause.

       "Of course not," she said then. "I barely knew him. He was a stranger."

       "Was he handsome? In good shape? Was he your type, Stella?"

       She shrugged again. "He's okay, I guess. Nothing special."

       "Not somebody you would ordinarily fuck on a first date."

       "No."

       "So the only reason you did it was because I told you to."

       "Because I--"

       "Don't give me the job shit, Stella. You did it because I told you to, right?"

       She said nothing.

       "Okay, then what? You just went home with him and did it?"

       "We had dinner first."

       "How civilized. What did you talk about at dinner?"

       "Different things. Mostly he asked me about myself, and about my job, and you."

       "And you told him everything."

       "Mostly."

       "Did you tell him how you got the job, Stella? About fucking Dave first, and then blowing me and letting me fuck your ass?"

       "I didn't tell him about Dave."

       "Why not?" I said. "Did you think that would make you less of a whore in his eyes?"

       She glared at me, but said nothing.

       "Next time you see him," I said, "I want you to tell him about Dave too. Okay, Stella?"

       Now she flushed a little. "I hadn't planned to see him again," she said then.

       "Well, we'll see about that," I said. "So after dinner you went home with him and fucked him, right?"

       "Yes."

       "Tell me about that. How many times did you do it, Stella?"

       She was still flushed. "Several times," she said flatly. "Three or four times, I guess. Over the night."        "And was it good, Stella? Did you come?"

       She said nothing.

       "Tell me, Stella."

       "It was all right, I guess."

       "Did you come?"

       She took a slow breath. "No," she said in a low voice. "I don't come that much."

       "You came with me," I said. "Remember, Stella? But I guess that was special circumstances, wasn't it?"

       She said nothing.

       "Tell me more," I said. "Did you suck his cock for him?"
       "No," Stella said.

       "Did he ask you to?"

       "He...he kind of indicated that he wanted it."

       "But you didn't."

       "No."

       "Why not?"

       "I didn't...you didn't say I had to do that."

       "I didn't? Didn't I say to do it any way he wanted? Didn't I say that, Stella?"

       "You said to fuck him any way he wanted. That isn't...fucking, is it?"

       I almost laughed. "You should have been a politician, Stella. But technically, I guess you're right. But now I know you'll be seeing him again. And next time I want you to suck him off, and do a great job, the way you did for me that time. Okay, Stella?"

       She said nothing.

       "What did Larry think about the fact that you weren't wearing panties?" I asked.

       She shrugged. "I guess he liked it."

       "Did you tell him why?"

       "I think he pretty much figured it out for himself," Stella said.

       "Are you wearing panties now, Stella?"

       "Yes, of course."

       "Take them off," I said.

       She looked at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse. Then she stood up, lifted her skirt, hooked her thumbs into her little white panties at the sides and slid them down over her thighs. She sat down again and pulled them off the rest of the way. I held out my hand, and she tossed them to me over the desk. Her lips were tight, and her skirt was high on her lovely legs.

       "I'll tell you what, Stella," I said. "I don't want you wearing panties any more. Not in the office, anyway. From now on. You got that, Stella?"

       Again she flushed a little. Her eyes blazed into mine. Then, in a very low voice, she said, "How far are you going to push this?"

       I took a breath. "As far as you want it to go, Stella," I said.

       She said nothing.

       "We can explore this together, you and me," I said. "I think I'd enjoy that, and I think you would too. In some ways, anyway. I think maybe you need to do that, Stella. So I guess the answer is, right up to the limit. If there is one."

       She still said nothing, but her head shook slowly from side to side. I wondered if she was aware of it.

       "You better go to work now, Stella," I said. "Come back at the end of the day and we'll talk some more. Or whatever."

       She looked at me another few seconds, then got to her feet and went to the door.

       "Unless you decide to resign before then," I added.

       She paused with her hand on the knob and stood still for a moment, then turned it and went out.

       My cock was harder than hell.

                        #

       Shortly after lunch that day Denise came into my office. As usual, she didn't waste time on polite preliminaries. The first thing she said was, "What the hell are you doing with that girl?"

       "What are you talking about?" I said.        

       "Come on. That blonde twit. Stella. What's going on with her?"

       "Is she a twit?" I said. "I thought you said she was doing okay."

       "She was doing okay. She's good with the work, but she's got stuff on her mind. I mean it's bad enough she has to spend half her time fighting off the guys in the department, but that's not what's distracting her. Half the time she's in the toilet now, and she's moping around like...well, I don't know what. This morning she comes in late, says she was in your office. The girl is definitely off her feed, and it's affecting what she does. You banging her or what?"

       "Is that any of your business, Denise?" I said.

       "It is if it's disrupting my department," Denise said. "You can fuck her fifty ways from Sunday and I don't give a shit, but first of all don't do it on my time, and second why the hell should that make her into Gloomy Greta? You'd think she'd be happy, making it with a prize stud like you, right?" Denise's sarcasm was universal, so I didn't take offense. "So that's why I'm asking, what the fuck is going on? You're not forcing her or anything, are you, Michael? You're not threatening to fire her if she doesn't come across or anything like that. Right?"

       Now I did take offense, although not very comfortably. "You know me better than that, Denise," I said, trying to sound more wounded than I was. "I'm not making her do anything she doesn't want to do."

       "What does that mean?" Denise said suspiciously.

       "It means what it means," I said. "There's no sexual harrassment going on here, Denise. So butt out, okay? You're not satisfied with the girl's performance, I'll put her somewhere else. Or whatever."

       "But not fire her, right? Wouldn't want to lose that sweet piece of ass, right, Michael?"

       I grinned at her. "You jealous, Denise?"

       She snorted. "Of her or of you?"

       "Take your choice."

       She was quiet a moment. Then she said, "You think I'm a dyke, don't you, Michael?"

       I shrugged. "Not my business."

       "That's right, it's not." She started to leave, but then she turned back. "Except I'm not," she said.

       I shrugged again. "Okay."

       "You believe that?"

       "Denise, what--"

       "You don't, do you?"

       I stared at her. "Denise, I don't know what you want me to say. If you tell me--"

       "Listen." She moved to the chair across from my desk and sat down. "I'm straight, okay? I like guys. I do."

       "All right. But why are you--"

       "Shut up. But I have this friend."

       "Friend," I said.

       "Yes. This woman friend. She's a lez. She--she's--she likes to--"

       I had never seen Denise so unsure of herself. "You make it with her," I said.

       "No! I mean...not...not really..." She took a breath. "She likes to tie me up," she said.

       I tried my best not to stare at her, but I don't know how well I succeeded. "Tie you up," I repeated.

       "Yeah." She was looking straight at me now. "She ties me up, Michael. And I like it."

       This was a shock. I couldn't picture the brittle, sarcastic, always assertive Denise allowing herself to be restrained by someone else; if anything, I would have thought it would be the other way around.

       "I know," Denise said, as if reading my thoughts. "It doesn't sound like me, right? But it is. It gets to a whole other side of me, Michael. It's the only thing that does. That feeling of helplessness. Having all those controlling instincts taken away from me. I never knew I needed that till I let her do it. It's scary as hell, Michael. But it...it turns me on like crazy. I can't help it."

       I didn't say anything for a minute. Then I said, "So you and she..."

       She looked away from me now. "I don't...I mean...I get so turned on from being that way that I--especially when she leaves me that way for a while--I get so hot just from that that I--I let her do what she wants to me. I'd be too aroused to stop her then even if I could move. And when I can't it's...Oh Jesus..."

       I had to clear my throat. I didn't know what to say. "Denise, why...why are you telling me this now?"

       She looked at me again, then took a deep breath. "I guess because...of how I feel afterwards."

       "What do you mean?"

       "I can't help letting her do it, Michael. The whole thing, I mean. I can't help it, I need it, like I said. But I know it's...it's not... I feel guilty. Afterwards. Dirty. I don't let it show, most of the time, but it drags me down. And I see those signs in that girl. Stella. I recognize those signs, and she can't hide them as well as I can. That's why I asked you if you were...coercing her in some way. And what you said...the way you said it...just made me wonder more..."

       "What do you mean? I said "I wasn't..."

       "You weren't making her do anything she didn't want to do. Well, that's open to a wide range of interpretation, Michael. You know?"

       "Well, don't worry," I said. "I'm not tying her up, okay?" I don't need to, I almost said. I didn't say it, but Denise just looked at me as though I had. I looked away. "Give it a little more time," I said. "Like I say, if she doesn't work out I'll replace her. Okay?"

       Denise made a little grunting sound, and after a moment got up to go. As she headed for the door, I said, "Hey, Denise? Tell me something."

       She turned.

       "Since you're not a lez," I said, "but you like being tied up so much, why don't you get a man to do it? Wouldn't that make it even better?"

       I wasn't sure what it was I saw in her eyes. Amusement? Speculation? Anger? Contempt? It could have been any or all of those things, or it could have been nothing but my imagination. But when she spoke her voice was low and flat.

       "It's too scary," was what she said. "The thought of losing control like that, with a man... It would be..." She shook her head. Then she kind of pulled herself together and became Denise again. "Michael, if you tell anybody about this, ever, I'll kill you. I swear it," she said, glaring at me. "You got that?"

       "Got it," I said.

                       #

       Stella came into my office again at the end of the day, just as I'd told her to do. The first thing I said to her was, "Take off your clothes." It occurred to me that I had never seen her completely naked except for that brief sighting in Dave's office, and that was not under the best of conditions.

       Stella just looked at me.

       "Strip, Stella," I said to her. "I want to get a good look at that body. All of it. Strip down."

       She closed her eyes briefly, but her face was mostly devoid of expression as she began to undress. She did it quickly; the shirt and the skirt were easily disposed of, and of course her panties were in my pocket. She opened her bra and pulled it off and she stood there naked in front of me, her clothes in a little pile on the floor.

       "Damn, it's a gorgeous body," I said, and I meant it. "Turn around for me."

       She turned around, and when I told her to she turned back. My dick was hard.

       "Okay," I said. "I want to fuck that body in the worst way, but first we're gonna have a little talk. Sit down, Stella."

       She sat in the chair across from my desk. I was fuly clothed; she was naked. I liked it that way.

       "Had a talk with Denise today," I said. "She tells me you're not pulling your weight over there, Stella. She says you're good at the job, you got the chops and all, but she's disappointed with your attitude or something. Says you seem to be unhappy. Mopey. Down in the mouth. Dragging your feet. And other such cliches. What's that about, Stella?"

       Stella shrugged, which did interesting things for her breasts. "Denise doesn't like me," she said.

       "Denise doesn't like anybody," I said. "But she doesn't usually complain about them, unless they're not doing their job. So what's going on?"

       "What do you think?" Stella said. "It's you."

       "You mean because of what we've been doing?" I said. "Because I made you screw your boyfriend and all that? That's making you so unhappy it's affecting your job performance? I don't believe that, Stella. Let's not--"

       "He's not my boyfriend," Stella put in. "I hardly even--"

       "Okay, whatever. Did he call you today, by the way?"

       "No," Stella said.

       "What an asshole," I said. "That's no way to treat a girl who's spent the night fucking your brains out. If he doesn't call you tonight, I'm gonna have you call him and find out what his problem is."

       "Oh god, no," Stella said.

       "Oh god yes. But you mustn't let what happens between me and you affect your work, for Christ sake. If you--"

       "It's not just that," Stella said. "I'm telling you, Denise doesn't like me. She's jealous."

       "Jealous? Of what?"

       "She's figured out that you're--I mean somehow she knows about--I didn't say anything, she just--Well, she knows. And she's jealous. So she--"

       "Come on," I said. "Why would she be jealous?"

       "She likes you, that's why."

       I stared at her. "That's bullshit," I said. "Denise? She's about as fond of me as a dead fish. Denise would no more--" I stopped because she was shrugging again, and her jiggling breasts made me lose my train of thought. All I could think about was how I was going to fuck her.

       The options were limited. Unfortunately, there was no couch in my office, so that pretty much left screwing her on the floor again, or on top of my desk. Unless I had her fuck me in my chair, but I wasn't sure it was big enough. Besides, I wanted to be able to lie down on top of her and feel all of that gorgeous naked body underneath me. On the other hand, to do that I would have to get undressed, and I was still feeling the pleasant aura of power created by the contrast of her nudity with my fully clothed state. What the hell, I thought, this girl isn't going anyplace. I'd have plenty of opportunity to fuck her any way I wanted.

       "Come over here, Stella," I said, and with slow deliberation I pulled down my zipper and took out my stiff cock. "Come over here and sit yourself down on this, girl."

       Stella hesitated only a second. I couldn't really read her face as she slowly stood up and walked around my desk. She didn't look particularly happy, but she wasn't about to burst into tears or anything either. She just did it. When she got close to me I reached out for her and pulled at her waist, guiding her onto the chair. There was just roon enough for her to straddle my legs, with a knee on either side of my thighs. "That's the girl," I said. "Now put me inside you, Stella baby."

       Stella made a little sound. Then she reached down, took my dick in her fingers and held it as she lowered herself onto me. She was not very wet, and it took a little time; but my pre-come helped, and in a few minutes I was siding up into her as she slowly sank down around me. She was very tight, and I had to hold myself back to keep from coming immediately, but I managed. "Okay," I said when she was sitting on my thighs, "now fuck me, Stella. Nice and slow, okay?"

       And Stella did. It felt so good that I wanted to close my eyes and lay my head back and just revel in the sensation. But I also wanted to watch her. I watched her breasts bobbling as she moved up and down. I watched her lovely thighs flexing as they pumped steadily on either side of me. I watched her softly bouncing hair. I watched her face, her eyes, her slightly open mouth. I still couldn't tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and yet the play of her features was fascinating. She moved almost mechanically, but I was as aroused as I'd ever been. 

       At one point she seemed to notice me studying her, and she closed her eyes. "No, Stella," I said, a little breathelssly. "Open your eyes. Look at me, Stella." Stella opened her eyes, and as they looked into mine I thought I could read them now. I thought I saw hatred there. But that wasn't all.

       "Kiss me, Stella," I said.

       Her reaction was a quick, involuntary shake of the head. But she didn't stop moving. I raised my hands to her breasts. I didn't even think about it. I took her nipples between my fingers and pinched them hard. Stella gave a little cry. Without releasing the pressure, I twisted them. Just a little. She made a sharp gasping sound. "Kiss me, Stella," I said again.

       Stella brought her mouth to mine. I felt the

touch of her quivering lips, but there was no pressure there. Her mouth was still open, but only slightly. I felt her lightly panting breath. I forced her lips open a bit more and stuck my tongue in her mouth. For a second I thought she was going to pull away, but she thought better of it. But she pulled back her tongue, and her lips remained slack against mine.

       I dug my fingernails into her nipples. Her body went stiff, and she cried out into my mouth. I pulled my head back long enough to say, "No, Stella. Kiss me nice. Kiss me like uou meant it." I could see tears in her eyes. When I put my mouth back on hers, she returned the pressure, and when I slid my tongue in her mouth she met it with hers. Her panting was heavier now, interspersed with little gasps and half-sobs. I continued to twist her nipples, and her movements became less rhythmic and more spasmodic in response to the pain. It was all too much for me, and ripped my mouth from hers and threw my head back as I exploded uncontrollably inside her.

       "That was good, Stella," I panted when I stopped coming. I had let go of her nipples, and I now brushed my fingers over them lightly, savoring the velvety texture of her breasts. The nipples were sticking out stffly, but Stella was crying softly, tears rolling down her cheeks. I raised my hand to her face to wipe them away. "Why are you crying, Stella?" She didn't answer. "Because I hurt you?" I said. "Or because I fucked you. Or because you liked it," I added.

       "Damn you," Stella whispered. She started to pull away from me, but I held on to her and kept her where she was. My cock was still inside her, though it was soft now.

       "Did you cry when you fucked Larry?" I asked her. She said nothing. "Did you?" I said, and I moved my hands to her breasts. She shook her head quickly. "Why not?" I demanded.

       "I--I cried afterward," Stella got out. "After I got home. Not--not with him. I--"

       "Did he hurt you?"                

       "No."

       "Did you want him to hurt you?"

       "No!" She was sobbing now. "God, I hated him!" she choked. "I hated him, and you made me--I had to--"

       "You didn't have to do anything, Stella," I said. "But speaking of Larry, I really can't believe he still hasn't called you. I'm sure he wants to fuck you again. And I think yuo should call him right now and ask him."

       Stella shook her head wildly. "No!"

       "Yes," I said. I reached for the phone on my desk. "You still have his number, Stella?"

       "No. No, I--"

       "Well I do." I had been smart enough to keep the scrap of paper I had taken from her purse the day before, and now I pulled it out and started to dial.

       "No!" Stalla said again. "No, please, oh god, please, I can't--"

       "Sure you can." Her wild distress, not to mention the movements of her naked body as she squirmed around on my lap, were bringing my dick to life again inside her. I finished dialing and listened to the ringing sound until somebody picked up.

       "Hello?" A man's voice.

       "Larry?" I said. "Hold on. Stella wants to talk to you." I held the phone out to her, but she just shook her head, a pleading expression on her face. "Talk to him, Stella," I said. "Ask the bastard why he doesn't want to fuck you again." I knew he could hear me, and that was fine.

       "Please," Stella whispered, sobbing.

       With my free hand I slapped her hard across the nearest tit. It made a solid smacking sound. Stella yelped and gave a little jump on my lap. My cock got harder. "Take it," I said. "Talk to him, Stella."

       Her hand shook as she took the phone from me and brough it to her ear. "H-hello?" she got out.

       I tried to hear what Larry was saying on the other end, but I couldn't. "Yes," Stella said, between her short, sobbing breaths. "It-it's Stella."

       "Tell him what you're doing," I said.

       "Oh god." She closed her eyes. "I--I'm--I'm fucking him--my boss--I--I can't--"

       "Ask him why he hasn't called you," I told her.

       "I--I--He wants--oh god--"

       "Oh for Chrissake," I said. "I'll ask him myself." I grabbed the phone back from her. "Hello, Larry?" I said into it. "This is Michael."

       Stella opened her eyes, staring at me.

       "Michael who?" Larry said. "What the hell is going on here?" His voice sounded both indignant and puzzled.

       "I'm Stella's boss," I told him. "And poor Stella wants to know why you haven't called her after she great time she gave you, fucking you all night long and everything. Didn't you enjoy it, Larry? I can't believe you don't want to fuck her again."

       "Jesus!" Lasrry said.

       "It's only polite to call a lady after you've fucked her," I said. "Especially if you want to keep on doing it. You do want that, don't you, Larry? I mean, she's a really good fuck, right?"

       "Hell, yes," Larry said, after a pause. "But what are you--Why is she--Shit, this is crazy, man!" 

       "Are you complaining, Larry?" I said. "I'm giving you a great present here. You do want to fuck her again, right?"

       "Holy--shit, of course I do!" Larry said. "She's--Christ, she's fantastic! But it's like she's--she's only doing it because...I mean..."

       "Yeah, she's doing it because I told her to," I said. "So what? You have objections to that, Larry?"

       "I--well, I--"

       "She tells me she didn't suck your dick, Larry," I said. I saw Stella's eyes widen. "You'd like her to do that for you, wouldn't you?"

       Larry said nothing. Stella closed her eyes again. I put my hand on her breast and squeezed just a tiny bit. She opened them. She had stopped sobbing, but her breathing was hard and irregular.

       "She will," I said. "If I send her to you again. She'll do it all you want. Right, Stella?"

       Stella said nothing. I squeezed again. "Yes!" she whimpered.

       "Tell him," I said, and held the phone out to her again. She hesitated only briefly, then took it with trembling hands. "Tell him, Stella."

       "I--" she panted into the phone. "I will. Oh god, I--"

       "You will what," I said. "Say it, Stella."

       "I--I'll suck your cock," Stella breathed.

       "Louder," I said. "Tell him you'll do it all he wants."

       "I'll suck your cock," Stella said again. "I'll--I'll do it all you want. I--I can't--"

       I took the phone back. "How about that, Larry?" I said.

       "Jesus!" Larry said.

       "Yeah, you can have her on her knees all night if you want," I said, watching Stella. She had closed her eyes again, but I didn't care anymore; her face was not expressionless now, and I loved what was happening to it. "And that's not all," I went on. "I'll tell this little whore to do anything you want. You want to fuck her ass, Larry?" A whimper from Stella. "I've done that, and it's really something, let me tell you."

       My dick was fully hard again, and Stella's soft writhing, along with her panting and whimpering, was threatening to set it off again.

       "And then," I said, "if you get tired of fucking her in all her holes, you might want to call in some of your friends and have her do them too."

       "Oh Jesus!" Stella moaned, and then suddenly she was moving harder, holding onto me and twisting against me, her pussy gripping my dick tightly, and then she was coming, crying out and spasming again and again. When she stopped she slumped against me and started to cry, her face digging into my shoulder.

       Larry was saying something, but I wasn't listening. "Go fuck yourself, Larry," I said, and hung up.

                           #

       I almost took Stella home with me that night, but I thought better of it. I sent her to Larry instead, with instructions to do everything he told her to do, with no limits this time, and to report back to me the next day. I was still wondering how far I could push her, but I felt that I was maybe getting into deeper waters than I was prepared to handle.

       I also found myself thinking about Denise--what she had told me about herself, and also what Stella had said about her feelings for me. Could that be true? I still found it hard to believe, but then I also found it hard to envision Denise letting anybody tie her up, let alone enjoying it.

       Okay, Denise was an attractive woman with a terrific body, but for all our playful flirting and constant innuendos, I had never seriously thought of her as available. And god knows I wasn't lacking for nookie, with Stella at my beck and call. But I found myself thinking about her more and more. Especially about being in control of her, as she had told me her lady friend was when she tied her up. Sort of like I was with Stella, only different. Or Brian with Christy. Only different. I had to admit the thought was exciting.

                   #      

       When I got home that night, Christy was waiting for me in front of my door. I was surprised to see her, because Brian would usually arrange it with me beforehand when he was going to send her over. "Hey, Christy," I said. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

       "Brian didn't send me," Christy said. "He doesn't know I'm here."

       "What? Are you crazy?" I instinctively looked around, as though Brian or a couple of his goons might show up to kill me at any minute.

       "Don't worry," Christy said. "He's out of town. He got called away on business. It's some kind of an emergency, and he was in such a hurry that he didn't even remember to give me the usual instructions."

       "But why are you here? And doesn't he have guys guarding you so you don't leave?"

       "He has a guy, but it's not necessary. If he tells me not to leave the place, I don't leave. Which is what he usually does. But like I say, he forgot. He forgot to tell me a lot of other things too. It's gotten so he takes me for granted, you see. The bastard."

       "But what about the guy?"

       "I fucked him," Christy said.

       "You fucked him."

       "Yes. Christ, you have any idea how hot those thugs of his are for me? He practically throws me in their faces, he teases them with me, showing me off, telling them how he can do anything with me and they can't. He does it to shame me and to show his power over them. So when I threw myself at Gus--the guy on duty--there was no way he could resist."

       "Jesus, if Brian finds out it's good-bye Gus,' I said.

       "And maybe good-bye me too," Christy said. "But he won't. Because Gus is dead, and I'm gonna be gone."

       I stared at her. "Gus is dead?"

       "Yes," Christy said. "I fucked him until he fell asleep and then I killed him. I stabbed him with a kitchen knife."

       "Okay," I said. "This is all a big joke, right?"        "No," Christy said.

       I still couldn't believe her. "So what are you doing here?"

       "I'm here to spill the beans," Christy said.

       "What beans?"

       "All of them."

       "Come on, what are you--Wait a minute." I stared at her. "You mean--you don't mean--about Brian."

       "Hello?" Christy said sarcastically. "Yes. About Brian."

       "You're crazy," I said.

       "I know that," Christy said. "I know I am, Michael. But I don't care. That son of a bitch ruined my life. He made me that way. Brian. He got me completely in his power and he kept me that way. But he slipped up. He forgot. He was so careful for a long time, always controlling my mind, telling me I didn't know what I knew, telling me to forget all those things I saw and heard. But this time he didn't. He tripped up. And I want to tell it all, right now, while I can. I may be killing myself, but it's the only way I'll ever be rid of him, Michael. I'll tell it all and you can put it in the paper. All of it. Print it in the paper. Show everybody what he is."

       "Whoa," I said. "Hold on a minute. In the first place, if you really want to bring Brian down, why don't you go to the cops? Tell it all to them. That should--"

       Christy laughed. "Are you kidding? Brian owns the cops. He controls them. You know that, Michael. He controls everything in this town. He's got more cops on his payroll than the city does. That would really be suicide. But he doesn't control your paper, right, Michael? You can--"

       "Sure he does," I said. "At least, in a way. Sure, I can print what I want, but if I expose him what's to keep him from killing me too? Besides, he does me favors just so I won't print bad things about him. Favors like you."

       "Well, you don't have to worry about that," Christy said. "You do this for me and you can still have me. Help me get free of Brian and I'll go on fucking you all you want, how's that?"

       "If we both live," I said, and I shook my head. "It's too dangerous, Christy. Besides, you can't stay around in any case. If you really killed Gus, you better get the hell away from here quick. There's no way they won't know you did it."

       "You gutless bastard," Christy said. "You'll never touch me again." She was so mad she actually spat in my face. And before I could even react to that she was gone.

                         #

       That night I had a couple of drinks before going to bed, and I dreamed I was watching Stella fuck some guy I didn't know. They were going at it hot and heavy when Denise burst in (I wasn't sure where we were; it looked like an underground tunnel or something) and started tying Stella up. She tied her hands behind her back, but Stella went right on fucking. Then she started tying me up, but I got loose and wrestled with her for a while. I ended up lying on top of her, pinning her down, and I was about to kiss her when I realized that Christy was standing over me with a kitchen knife.

       I woke up sweating and shaking, but with a hard-on.        

                           #        

       Again, as I had told her to, Stella appeared in my office early the next morning. She looked tired. But sexy. Again I had her take off her clothes for me and sit naked so I could look at her that way as we talked.

       "Okay, tell me about Larry," I said.

       "What do you want to know?" Stella said flatly.

       "Everything. Did you suck his cock like I told you?"

       "Of course I did."

       "Did he like it?"

       "He made me do it three times." Her voice was weary. "So I guess he did."

       "What else? Did he fuck your ass?"

       "Yes."

       "Good for him. And did he take my suggestion to share you with some of his friends?"

       "No. He didn't do that. But--"

       "But what?"

       "But he said he was thinking about it."

       "And what did you say?"

       "I didn't say anything," Stella said. Her voice was still flat, but now tears formed in her eyes. "What was I supposed to say? Beg him not to? Tell him I wouldn't do it? What good would that do? You would just make me--you would--it would be--"

       My dick was hard. "Bend over the desk, Stella," I told her.

       "I have to go to work," Stella said, but she got out of the chair and did as I said. "Denise will--"

       "Don't worry," I said, moving around behind her and spreading her legs. "I'll take care of Denise." And up until the very moment I said those words I had not realized that that was what I intended to do.

                         #

       I saw Denise at lunchtime, in the small company cafeterial on the fourth floor. Most of the time I have lunch at my desk, being usually too busy to take time out, but that day I was finding it hard to concentrate on work. So I took a break and went up there, and as soon as I came in I spotted Denise sitting at a small table in a corner, reading the paper while wolfing down a sandwich. I quickly got a plate of food for myself--it didn't matter what it was, because all the food in that place was terrible--and brought it over there.

       "Hey, Denise," I said. "Mind if I join you?"

       Denise shrugged.

       I sat down. She was still reading. I let a few moments go by, and then I said, "You know, Denise, I've been thinking about what you told me the other day."

       That got her attention. "What do you mean?" she said, glaring at me.

       "You know what I'm talking about," I said. "I've just been thinking about it, that's all."

       "Michael, I swear, if you told anybody--"

       "No, no," I said quickly. "Of course not."

       She was still glaring. "I don't know why I told you that, for Christ sake. I must have been crazy. Just forget about it, okay? I made the whole thing up."

       "No you didn't," I said. "Come on, Denise. Why would you make something like that up? I think you told me because you wanted to--well, because you trust me, right? You wanted to get it off your chest, or whatever."

       "Yeah, I trust you like I trust George fucking Bush," Denise said. "Just fucking drop it, okay?"

       "Okay," I said. "But just tell me one thing, all right? Remember I asked you why you didn't get a man to do that to you, since you say you're basically straight and all, and you said it was too scary, right?"

       Denise dropped her eyes from mine and took a bite of her sandwich. "I don't like where this is going, Michael," she said through a mouthful of food.

       "It's not going anyplace," I said. "Not if you don't want it to. I just thought that if it was a man you trusted...who you liked, maybe...it might be--"

       Denise swallowed her food and her eyes met mine again. "Michael," she said slowly. "Fuck off."

       "Look, I just--"

       "Not in a million years," Denise said. "Not if you got down on your knees and begged. Not if you fired me off the paper and got me blackballed out of the industry. Not if--"

       "Jesus, Denise!" I said. "Don't get your tits in an uproar. I was only raising the possibility. I mean, you have to wonder how it would be with a guy, if it turns you on so much with a gal. I know you don't want to make yourself vulnerable and all, but that is the point, isn't it? And if the man was--you know--sympathetic and...and understood what you--"

       Denise laughed. "Oh, that's so good of you, Michael," she said sarcastically. "What a noble guy, offering to do that for me, offering me your services just to fulfill my needs, right? How can I ever thank you?" Then her voice changed. "You horny pussy-chasing son of a bitch. Isn't having Stella to boss around enough for you?"

       "Stella thinks you're jealous," I said.

       Denise gave a snort. "Yeah, right," she said, and took another bite of her sandwich. I watched her as she chewed and swallowed. Then she said, "You've got that little bitch so crazy she doesn't know what she's doing anymore. I don't know how long she can--"

       "She thinks you're jealous of her," I cut in. "But I think you're jealous of me. I think maybe you're a dyke after all, Denise. You'd love to have a crack at Stella yourself, right? That's what I think. Otherwise--"

       "You shithead!" Denise spat out. "That's not gonna work either, Michael. What, I'm supposed to give myself to you now to prove that I'm straight? Come off it. I told you, I don't give a damn what you think. And if I was gonna let a guy do--do anything like that to me, it sure as hell wouldn't be you."

       "Okay," I said, and shrugged. Obviously Stella had been wrong about Denise's feelings for me, and I was shooting at a stone wall. But just for the hell of it I gave it one last shot. "Too bad," I said. "You know, I used to be a Boy Scout, Denise." That was a lie, but what the hell. "I was pretty good at knot-tying. I got a whatchacallit, a merit badge for that. I bet I could tie you up a lot better that that woman does. Better and tighter. I bet I know more ways to do it, too. I used to have this girlfriend who--well, never mind. But if you think what your friend does gets you hot, you don't know what getting hot is, Denise. I could drive you out of your mind, and if you think that's scary, okay, but I think you want it scary, deep down. I think you want the real thing. And remember this, since you're so straight and all--when you do get so turned on you can't stand it, like you said? Remember that I've got a dick and she doesn't."

       Denise didn't say a word. She was just looking at me, her face rigid. Her eyes were amoldering with what I took to be anger. Of course it could have been passion, but I doubted it. "Just think about it, Denise," I said, and I got up and left.

                        #        

       Later that afternoon I got a call in my office. It was Brian. He didn't waste time on greetings. "You seen Christy?" he demanded.

       "No," I said, and I had to clear my throat. "Why?"

       "The fucking cunt lit out on me. She fucking killed Gus! That piece of shit twat, she fucking killed my guy and ran off! I'm gonna--you sure you haven't seen her? Because I know you like the bitch, but anybody who tries to--"

       "Brian, I swear to god I haven't seen her since--" My head was whirling. I suppose I could have told him about her visit the night before; I hadn't done anything to help her and it couldn't have made any difference. But I wasn't thinking that clearly, I was too scared. "--since you sent her to me last Sunday. Is she--you think she--"

       "I don't know what that whore is doing, but I know one thing--I'm gonna fucking catch her, and when I do she's gonna be the sorriest little cunt that ever lived. When I'm done with her nobody's gonna want to fuck her. Mostly 'cause she'll be dead. But not before she'll wish she was. For a long time."

       I knew he wasn't kidding. "Maybe she'll come back," I said lamely. "Maybe she just--"

       "Yeah, bullshit. Listen, Michael, if she contacts you, or you hear anything about her, you better fucking let me know, and quick, you understand me?"

       "Of course, Brian," I said. I was trying to keep my voice from shaking, but I wasn't too successful. The rest of me was shaking too.

       "Good," Brian said. "And listen, nobody knows about Gus, and I don't want to see anything about it in the paper, you got me?"
       "No problem," I said.

       "Okay. And don't worry, I'll find another girl to keep you happy, okay? You don't like her, we'll find somebody else. Nothing too good for my man Michael." And with that he hung up.

                     # 

       When Stella came into my office the next morning she looked paler and more bedraggled than I had ever seen her. Of course I had told her the day before to go over to Larry's again that night, and to do everything he told her. I loved seeing the look in her eyes when I told her that. And I loved the fact that, just as Brian had sent Christy to me with instructions to obey me completely, so I was now sending this girl to another guy with the same orders. And just as Christy had hated it but done it anyway, Stella was doing the same. But there was a difference. I knew why Christy had obeyed Brian. But why should Stella go on obeying me? I didn't know, but as I say, I loved the look in her eyes when I gave her those orders. She looked sick. She looked as though she hated me, and hated herself. Sometimes she cried. But she did it.

       This time I didn't have to tell her to take her clothes off. She did it automatically, almost robotically, and then sat down. She was obviously tired and sort of sagged in her chair, and her eyes were dull.

       "Looks like you had another hard night," I said. "What did old Larry do with you? Did he bring his friends in this time?"

       Stella looked at me with no expression. "Just one," she said.

       I was surprised; even though I had made the suggestion, I hadn't really expected Larry to want to share her so soon. "Really?" I said. "He brought in another guy? What happened?"

       "They fucked me," Stella said in that flat, toneless voice. "Both of them."

       "Both at once?"

       "Some of the time. Yes."

       "Pussy and ass? Pussy and mouth? Mouth and ass?"

       "Damn you," Stella said. "Yes. All those things."

       "And sometimes separately too?"

       "Yes."  

       "Must have gone on all night long," I said.

       "Yes."

       "I'd like to have seen that, Stella. Maybe Larry will let me come and watch sometime."

       "Damn you," Stella said again. And then she said, "But he said he didn't want to do that anymore."

       "What? Larry said that?"

       "Yes. This morning, after his friend left. He said that was fun, but he didn't want to share me anymore. He said he wanted me all to himself from now on. He said he--" She stopped.

       "Go on," I said. "What else did he say?"

       Stella swallowed. "He said he wanted to marry me."

       I stared at her. "He said--you mean he actually asked you to marry him?"
       "Yes."

       Old Larry worked fast. "And what did you say, Stella?"

       "I said no."

       "And what did he say when you said no?"

       "He said why not."

       "And what did you say?"

       "I told him the truth," Stella said.

       "Come on, Stella. This is like pulling teeth. Just what did you say to him?"
       Stella took a breath. "I told him I didn't want to marry him. I didn't want to marry anybody. I told him I hardly knew him, and I was only fucking him because you told me to, because you made me, and that I hated it, and if it was up to me I would never see him again, let alone marry him."

       "I thought you said you told him the truth, Stella," I said. "That's not the truth. I'm not forcing you to do anything. You're doing it because you're sick, Stella."

       "Fuck you," Stella said.

       "What did Larry say when you told him that?" I said.

       "He told me to get the hell out. He said I was just a whore anyway."

       "So you left."

       "Yes."

       "Well, I'm sure Larry was mad because you said those things, Stella, but I bet he still wants to marry you. I bet if you called him up and told him you changed your mind he'd be the happiest man in the world, don't you think?"

       There was a hint of fear in her eyes. "I'm not going to do that," she said.

       "You're not."

       "No." The barely detectable apprehension was in her voice as well, and it made my dick stir.

       "Because you don't want to," I said.

       "That's right."

       "But what if I told you to do it, Stella?"

       She stared at me. Then she shook her head. "You wouldn't do that," she said.

       "I wouldn't?"

       "No," she said. "No. Why would you want me to marry him? There's no--"

       "Maybe just to see if you would do it," I said.

       "I won't do it. It--it's--"

       "It's ridiculous," I said.

       "Yes."

       "Stella," I said.

       "Please," Stella said.

       "You know," I said, "I bet Larry has a good job. What does he do, Stella?"

       "He's--he's a lawyer. He's a partner in a law firm."

       "So he's pretty well off financially then, right?"

       "I guess so," Stella said.

       "So he could support you, right, Stella? If you married him you wouldn't really need this job anymore, would you?"
       "I--I don't--"

       "So you don't have that excuse now, do you, Stella? If I told you to marry Larry, you couldn't say you have to obey me because you need your job. Right?"

       "Please," Stella said.

       "Please what, Stella?" I said.

       "Don't do it," Stella said.

       "I just want to see what you'll do, Stella," I said.

       "I don't want to," Stella said. "I don't want to, please, don't make me do it, please." There were tears in her eyes now. And my dick was like a flagpole.

       "I'm not making you do anything, Stella," I said.

       "I don't want to marry him. You can't tell me to do that. I'll do anything, please."

       "This is crazy," I said. "You're a free woman, Stella. You can leave right now. You can keep working here, or not, whichever you want. You can do whatever you want. You know that, don't you?"

       "Yes," Stella said. She said that with her mouth. But that's not what her eyes were saying.

       The temptation was too much. I had to find out. "Okay," I said. "Knowing that, Stella, I want you to call Larry up and tell him you've changed your mind."

       "No!" Stella cried out.

       "Tell him you really do want to marry him. Or better yet--tell him you'll marry him because your boss wants you to. See what he says then."

       "Please, I can't," Stella said, and she was actually crying now. "I don't want to marry him, please."

       "Do it now," I said, and I pushed my phone across my desk toward her.

       For a long moment she didn't move. She was sobbing softly. Then she stopped. She looked at me. Her face was empty. So was her voice. "You can't do this to me," she said.

       "Okay," I said. And I waited.

       "Oh god," Stella said, and she picked up the phone receiver. My cock was throbbing, and when she started to dial I thought I might come in my pants.

       I saw that her fingers were trembling as she pushed the buttons. Then she caught her breath as Larry evidently picked up the phone.

       "Larry?' she said. "It's Stella." Her voice shook. She looked at me. Pleadingly. I looked back. Just looking. "I--" Stella said. "I'll--If you--If you still want to marry me, I--I will." I watched the tears running down her cheeks. I couldn't hear what Larry was saying.

       "Yes," Stella said after a pause. "I will." A pause. "Because--because my boss told me to." A long pause. "Yes," Stella said. "Yes. Yes it is. Yes. What? No. No I don't. I can't--I can't help it. I can't--" She was choking up, her words turning to sobs. I reached over and took the receiver from her hand.

       "Hello, Larry?" I said into it. "Congratulations!"

       "What--what the fuck is going on here?" Larry sputtered.

       "What do you mean?" I said. "Stella just accepted your proposal, Larry, aren't you happy about that?"

       "But she--she says she's only doing it because you told her to!" he said, almost shouting. "She said she wouldn't, now she says she will, but she doesn't really want to, she doesn't love me, she just--Christ, what the hell are you doing to her?"
       "Not a damn thing," I said. "But you sound confused, Larry. Do you want to marry her or not?"

       There was a pause. "Well, shit, sure I do," he said then. "Christ, I could fuck her forever! She's the hottest--I mean, she's weird, but once she gets started-- But I don't understand why she's doing it, and I sure as hell don't understand the whole thing about you!"

       "I don't either," I said. "But you should thank me anyway, don't you think? But listen, Larry, there's one stipulation, okay? Stella says you told her you didn't want to share her anymore. After your session with your friend and all. Now I can understand that, Larry, but if you two get married you'll have to make an exception for me. I want to keep on fucking Stella any time I want to. Okay? Will you agree to that?"

       There was another paus. "What if I don't?" Larry said.

       "Well, I can always tell her to change her mind again," I said.

       "You fuck," Larry said.

       "Is it a deal?"

       "Yeah," Larry said reluctantly. "But nobody else, okay?"

       "Okay," I said. "Don't forget to invite me to the wedding." And I hung up.

       Stella was still crying. She was crying so hard she slipped off the chair and slid to the floor, lying there face down and sobbing into her hands. "You've ruined my life!" she gasped out. "Oh god! My whole life!"

       I got up and went around the desk. I was so hot I couldn't stand it. I stripped myself naked in record time. "Turn over," I told her. "I want to fuck the shit out of you."

       Stella turned over and I got down on top of her and fucked her as hard as I've ever fucked anybody. And for a long time.

       She came twice.

                         #        

       "Good news," I said to Denise a few days later. "Stella says she wants to keep working here even after she's married. So you don't have to worry about replacing her. She's still doing okay, right?"

       "Yeah, when she works. But she still mopes around a lot. Doesn't seem too happy for a girl just got engaged. You have something to do with that?"
       "Me? Of course not," I said. Denise looked skeptical. "Speaking of romance," I said, to change the subject, "how's it going with your lady friend?"

       We were in my office, Denise sitting in the chair across from my desk. Now she got up and went over to look out my window. "It's not," she said. "I stopped it."

       "You did?" I said. "How come? I thought you--"

       "I don't want to talk about it, Michael."

       I didn't say anything. After a minute Denise moved back to the chair and sat down again.

       "I told you how I felt about it," she said. "It wasn't right, Michael. It was sick. I told you she--how I couldn't help letting her--It got me so hot, just being...being tied up that I'd let her do what she wanted. But then she...she wanted me to...you know, to reciprocate. And I couldn't. I couldn't do that. So she...she left me that way. All night, Michael. She left me tied up all night."

       She had been trying to look me in the eye as she told me this, and sometimes succeeding; but now she closed her eyes and hugged herself, as if she were cold. "Oh Jesus," she said. "It was so...I was so...I couldn't..." She stopped. She was panting a little. I didn't say anything.

       Then finally she opened her eyes and her voice was calmer, flatter. "When she came back she started...doing it to me, and then she stopped and told me what she wanted me to do." She paused. "I was crazy, Michael. I was out of my mind. I would have done anything. God, anything. So she untied me and I...I did it. We did it. Together." She took a breath. "And afterwards I went into the bathroom and threw up. And then I came back and told her I wasn't doing it anymore. Any of it. I told her I didn't want to ever see her again." She took another deep breath. "And that was that."

       "She was all right with that?" I asked.

       "Oh, she just laughed. She said I'd feel differently later, and to give her a call when I needed to be...restrained again. But I won't. I'm finished with it. It's done. And you and I will never talk about it again. Okay?"

       "Well, if that's what you want, Denise," I said. "But I still think you should try it with a man. It might--"

       "Back to that again, are we?" Denise said. "Goodbye, Michael." And she got up and walked out.

                        #

       I coninued to get daily reports from Stella about her activities with Larry. He was pressing her to set a date for the wedding, but she kept putting off that decision. So finally I told her to give him a definite answer that night, and to make it no later than July, which was two months away. Stella cursed me. But the next day she told me the wedding was set for June 15th, a Sunday. I told her I was looking forward to receiving my invitation. I said I was looking forward to kissing the bride. I said I wondered how Larry would feel if I were to fuck his bride on her wedding night. I said maybe Larry and I could fuck her together. Stella cursed me again. I told her to ask Larry how he would feel about that, and report back to me. Then I told her to suck my cock.

                         #

       It was about three weeks after Christy ran away that I got a call from Brian. "Get over here," Brian said. "I got her."

       "Christy?"

       "Yeah. My guys found her. Told you I would. Stupid cunt. I want you here, Michael. I want you to see how I deal with her."

       Something in his voice gave me a twinge of fear, and not just for Christy. "Why me?" I said. "It's not my--"

       "Just get here," Brian said. "Now." And he hung up.

       So I went.

                       #

       Brian lived in one of the biggest houses in the city. It was kind of a mansion, actually. He'd had a small elevator installed, and we rode up in it to the top floor of the house. There he had a large room fixed up as a kind of special playroom. There were rafters running across the ceiling. Christy was hanging from one of them, by a long chain which was fastened to the manacles around her wrists. Her arms were pulled high over her head; her toes just touched the floor. Her body was stretched taut. She was completely naked. Her had was thrown back, her hair hanging down limply. She was moaning and gasping weakly. There were marks all over her body. Like she'd been whipped. And there were burn marks too. About half a dozen men were standing or sitting around the room. Some of them were drinking beer. One or two were smoking cigars. All of themw were watching Christy.

       "Jesus!" was all I could say.

       At the sound of my voice Christy raised her head. When she saw me she made a sound, but it was barely distinguishable from the other sounds she'd been making. I could see the pain in her eyes. Pain and despair.

       "Pretty that way, isn't she?" Brian said. "You want to see her dance?" He walked over to a switch in the wall. As he did Cindy gave a cry of fear. Brian pressed the switch, and she began to scream. She also began lifting her feet from the floor, rapidly, kind of hopping from one to the other, and actually trying to raise both of them at the same time, pulling herself up by the cuffs around her wrists. She couldn't do that for very long, and one or the other of her feet would make contact with the floor, and she would scream and pull them up again. I saw that there was a square metal plate set into the floor beneath her hanging body, and it was obviously electrified. Brian was smiling.

       It must have been a full minute at least that he let Christy go on that way, shrill screams coming from her mouth as her body twisted wildly, her legs flailing, her breasts bouncing as she frantically and vainly tried to keep her feet from touching the metal plate. Finally he pressed the switch again and Christy hung limp, her body turning slowly. gasping for air between horror-filled sobs.

       "Dances really good, don't you think?" Brian said. I didn't say anything. "I think if I left this thing on long enough she might dance herself to death," he said. "Maybe I'll try that and see. Not yet, though. I've got a lot more to do with her before that. And so do my boys here. All these fellows have wanted to get to Christy for years, isn't that right, guys?" Nobody said anything. "Well now they'll get their chance. I'm gonna let them all have her when I'm done with her, and there'll be no restrictions. I don't think there'll be too much left of her by the time they're through, but what there is I'll put back up here and see what happens. You know why I'm doing this, Michael?"

       "Yes," I said. "Because she killed your guy and ran away from you."

       "That's right," Brian said. "I don't like to be crossed, you know that, right, Michael? I don't take kindly to that."

       I was starting to feel sick. "I know that, Brian."

       "I thought you did," Brian said. "But Christy here has told me an interesting story, Michael. She told me everything, once I worked on her a little. She says she came to you that night, asked you for help. Told you she was running. Told you she killed Gus. Is that right, Michael?"

       Now I was really sick. I could feel the sweat all over me. But it was no use trying to lie to him. He knew Christy hadn't just made that up. "Well, yes, Brian," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But she--"

       "And you didn't tell me about it, Michael," Brian said. "You told me you hadn't seen her, isn't that right? You lied to me, Michael."

       I took a deep breath. "Yes, I did," I told him. "Because I was scared, okay, and it seemed like the best idea at the time. But it wasn't. It was stupid. But I didn't want you to think--" I stopped to take another breath. I was shaking inside and could only hope it didn't show. "Did she tell you what she wanted me to do, Brian? She wanted me to run stories about you in the paper. She offered to give me all kinds of information so I could expose you and bring you down. But I said no. I told her I would never do that. Did she tell you that part?"

       Brian didn't say anything for a minute. Then he turned to Christy. "Is that true, bitch?" he asked her.

       Christy only moaned. Brian turned to one of his men who was standing nearby. "Give me that cigar." The man handed it to him. He reached with his free hand for Christy's hair and pulled her head back, holding it so she couldn't move. Then he raised the cigar and held it close to her right eye. Christy gave a terrified scream. "Is it"" he demaded.

       "Yes..." she sobbed brokenly.

       For a moment I thought he was going to burn her. But then he let her go and turned to me, holding out the cigar. "You do it," he said.

       I could only stare at him.

       "Go on," Brian said. "I want to see you do it. I want to know if there's something between you. She came to you for help, why would she do that, Michael? And you say you didn't help her, but how do I know that? Maybe all those times I sent her to fuck you was a mistake. Maybe the two of you cooked up this little scheme, maybe you were gonna run away together."

       "Brian, that's crazy. I told you, I wouldn't--"

       "Yeah, but you lied to me, didn't you, Mike?"

       "Not about that," I said. "I told you, I was scared. But there's nothing between Christy and me, and never was."

       "Show me," Brian said, holding out the cigar.

       I could see in his eyes that he was dead serious. If I didn't do it, if I showed any compassion for Christy, he would think I was in on what she did, or at least that there was a good enough chance of it for him to do something about it. He would kill me for sure. Possibly he would just shoot me rather than torturing me as he was doing to Christy. Or possibly not. But that was the most I could hope for.

     I tried to keep my hand from trembling as I reached out and took the cigar from him. I heard Christy give a frightened moan. I went to stand in front of where she was hanging. I took hold of her hair as Brian had done and pulled her head up and kept it there, forcing myself to look into her wide horror-filled eyes. She was trying to shake her head, but she couldn't. "No!' she whimpered. "No, Michael, no!"

       "You spat in my face, Christy," I said. "Remember? You asked me to betray Brian, and when I souldn't you spat in my face. And you said I would never touch you again." With that I put the cigar in my mouth and rubbed my free hand roughly over her breasts, squeezing them, tweaking the nipples. "That's what you said, you bitch." Then I took the cigar from my mouth and held it up close to her eye.

       Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "NOOOO!" she screamed. "NOOOOOO!"

       Still holding her hair, I pressed the lit end of the cigar firmly against her closed eyelid. Christy gave a loud, shrill, full-throated shriek and her hanging body convulsed crazily, her legs lashing out so that her feet hit me in the shins a couple of times. I let her go and stepped back. She shrieked again and again, the convulsions becoming weaker, until she just hung there,sweat pouring down her dangling body, loud gasping sobs coming from her open mouth.

       "What we ought to do is tape her goddam eyelids open and burn her right on the eyeball," Brian said. "How would you like to do that too, Michael?"

       "Anything you say, Brian," I said. I didn't want to think about what I was saying, or what I had done, or might do. I didn't want to think at all. What I wanted to do was throw up.

       "Okay, you can go," Brian said then. "Unless you want to stick around awhile and use her along with these other guys. It might be fun."

       "No, thanks," I said. "I've had her plenty of times, thanks to you, Brian, so I'll take a raincheck, if that's okay."

       "Not gonna be any rainchecks on this one," Brian said. "She won't be around that long. But like I said, we'll find you somebody else. Just keep on being a good boy, okay?"

       "Okay," I said. "Thanks."

       I managed to wait until I was out of sight of Brian's house before I was violently sick on the sidewalk.

                        #

       "So what did Larry say?" I asked Stella the next morning.

       "He said no," Stella said.

       "No? Just like that?"

       "Yes. He said that you might have me under your thumb or whatever, but you didn't have him. He said it was bad enough he had to share me with you, but he didn't agree to do it together. He said he knew you could still tell me not to marry him, but that was okay, he didn't want to be married to me if it meant you bossing him around all the time."

       "Well, screw Larry," I said. "Screw him and the horse he rode in on. I don't want you to marry him after all."

       "Well thank god for that!" Stella said.

         "And I don't want you fucking him anymore."

       "Thank god for that too."

       "I'll find somebody else for you to fuck," I said.

       "Why?" Stella asked.

       "Because I can," I said. "Jesus, Stella, what would you do if I put a burning cigar out on your eye?"

       Stella just stared. I could see fear in her eyes.

       "Don't worry," I said. "I'm not going to do it. But I'm just wondering how far you'll go."        

       Stella swallowed. "I have to go to work," she said. "Denise is really down on me for coming in late every morning. Do you want me to..."

       "No," I said. "Not today. Go to work. And tell Denise I want to see her, okay?"
                          # 

       Denise came in a few minutes later. "What's up, Michael?" she said. "I'm kind of busy right now."

       "You're always busy," I said. "Except when you're tied up, right, Denise?"

       She glared at me. "I told you I didn't want to talk about that anymore," she said fiercely. "I'm sorry I ever told you about it. If you get some kind of perverted kick out of thinking about it, buy a video or something. Bring it up again and I'll quit, I swear I will. I can get a job on any paper I want, and I don't think you want to lose me, Michael. Now I have work to do." And she started to leave.

       "Seems to me you're the one getting the perverted kicks," I said. She turned and started to say something, but I went on, "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you about something I--something I saw. Did your friend ever hang you from the ceiling, Denise? You know, hang you up by your wrists, with your arms pulled up and your body all--you know what I mean. Did you ever experience that?"

       Denise just stood and looked at me for what seemed like a long time. The anger was still in her face, in her eyes, but there was something else there that I couldn't read. "No," she said finally. "Not that it's any of your business. She just tied me to a chair, or to my bed sometimes. What the hell is this about, Michael? You say you saw this?"

       "I saw it in--in a movie," I said. "I was just wondering if you--if that was the kind of thing that made you--you know."

       Denise kind of snorted. "You never give up, do you, Michael?" But she didn't turn to leave again. Instead she asked, "You mean this woman was actually hanging that way? By her wrists?"

       "Well, not completely, I mean her feet could touch the floor, but it was kind of a stretch. And besides--" I stopped myself. Denise might be into bondage, but I didn't think she'd take too well to the idea of torture.

       "Besides what?" Denise said.

       "Nothing. Never mind," I said. I wasn't sure now why I had brought this up with her. Or maybe I was. But it was obviously not going to work. And anyway, the reminder of what else had happened to Christy suddenly made me feel queasy about the whole thing.

       "Besides what?" Denise said again. When I didn't answer she took a step toward me. Away from the door. "Was she--was this girl naked, Michael?"

       "Oh yes, she was naked all right," I said.

       "Naked," Denise said. Her voice was softer now. "And helpless. And hanging by her wrists."

       "Yeah," I said. "All stretched out."

       "With people watching," Denise said.

       "Men," I said. "Men watching. All men." She was still looking at me, but I didn't think it was me she was seeing. Her eyes were somewhere else, and there was a kind of slackness in her face that I hadn't seen before. My interest was rapidly returning. "Does that turn you on, Denise?" I asked boldly.

       It snapped her back, at least partly. Her eyes focused again, and I thought she might really leave now, but she stayed where she was. "I've thought about it," she said, almost defiantly.

       "And you'd like to try it," I said.

       "Not with you," Denise said.

       "Okay, not with me. Fine. But you'd like to try it with somebody, right?"

       Denise paused. Then she said, "Like I said, I've thought about it." She took another step forward, standing in the middle of my office. "It would be--" She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, but she was looking away from me now, into the distance. "It might be--" She stopped again. Then, slowly, as if something was directing her from outside, she raised her arms. She brought them up over her head, then crossed her wrists and held them that way.

       "Like this," she breathed.

       I felt a thickness in my throat. I swallowed. "Higher," I said. "More stretched out, you know?"

       Her arms straightened and went taut. And then she stood up on her toes. It made her breasts push out against her white blouse and pulled her skirt up over her knees. The thickness I felt was in my groin now.

       "Yes," I said. "Like that. Only naked, of course."

       Denise's arms came down quickly, and she lowered herself onto her heels. Her eyes were on me again, but I couldn't read them. "Well, that's not going to happen, Michael," she said. Her voice was stern again, if a little breathless. "Never." And she turned to leave.

       "I'm here if you need me, Denise," I called after her.

       She slammed the door

                             #

       I always had Stella turn the little gizmo that locked my office door before she took her clothes off for me each morning. You just can't trust people to knock all the time, especially some people. Like Dave. Two days later Stella was sitting there naked, telling me how she had told Larry that the wedding was off, when the doorknob rattled as somebody tried to come in. It rattled several times. Then finally there was a knock, a loud impatient knock, and Dave's voice came. "Hey, Mike, you in there? Gotta talk to you about something."

       I sighed. Stella, startled, got up quickly and reached for her clothes. "No, don't," I said, and she looked at me like a frightened deer. "Dave's seen you naked already, remember?" I said. "Why should you be modest now? Go let him in."

       She started to say something. I could see that she wanted to protest, wanted to beg. But she didn't. She just stood frozen for a long minute. Then a little whimper came from her throat, and she went to the door and opened it.

       Dave nearly fell down. "Holy shit!" he said brilliantly.

       "Come in if you're coming," I told him. "Stella, shut the door." Dave nipped inside as she did so, and she locked it again.

       Dave kept his eyes on Stella, looking her up and down, his initial surprised expression turning to a lascivious leer. "So this is what you guys do in here in the morning, huh?" he grinned. "Nice work, Mike. I knew you'd have her boinking you in record time. Pretty good lay, isn't she?"

       "Dave, you're an asshole," I told him. Under his hungry gaze Stella now tried, not very successfully, to hide her body with her arms. It gave me an idea.

       "Stella here has just gone through a broken engagement," I said. "She's feeling all sad and depressed, aren't you, Stella?" Stella said nothing, just looked at me with apprehensive eyes. I knew she suspected what was coming. "What she needs is love and comfort," I went on. "You want to give her some, Dave? She'll be really good to you if I tell her to. Isn't that right, Stella?"

       Stella's eyes were moist. "You're a bastard," she whispered.

       Dave's face was a mixture of surprise and delight. "Well, damn!" he said finally. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but I like it!" He pulled off his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. Then he looked at me. "What about you?" he asked.

       "I'll watch," I said.

       It stopped him, but only for a minute. Then he shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, and continued to undress. "Maybe you'll pick up some pointers."

       Stella was looking at me pleadingly. One tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek. I didn't know why she didn't just get dressed and go back to work. She must have known I wouldn't stop her, that I was just testing her. But she didn't, or couldn't. I didn't understand it, and for some reason it filled me with a kind of anger. For a moment I had a flash of Christy hanging from the ceiling and screaming as I pressed the burning cigarette against her eyelid. I forced it out of my mind. "Okay, Stella," I said, when Dave was naked. "You can start by sucking his cock for him."

       Dave's cock was already hard, and as I said that it got harder. Stella looked at me for another moment. Then she took a deep shuddering breath. Her hands fell to her sides and she walked over to where Dave was standing, then got down on her knees in front of him. Dave made a sound of anticipation, and Stella bowed her head and took his cock in her mouth.

       I watched her suck him. She did it without any particular enthusiasm, but she did it well, judging by how much Dave was obviously enjoying it. He moaned a lot, and told her she was a sweet little cocksucker and what a fine mouth she had, and she just went on sucking him. When he started to gasp I told her to stop, and she did.

       "No!" Dave gasped out. "Don't stop. Christ, keep going!"

       "Shut up, Dave," I said. "You want to fuck her, don't you?"

       "Yes, but--"

       "Shut up. I'm doing you a favor, I don't want to hear any complaints. Lie down. On your back. Let Stella fuck you this time."

       Dave didn't argue anymore. He got down on the floor on his back."Okay, Stella," I said. "Get on top of him and fuck his brains out. If he's got any."

       My cock was hard now too as I watched Stella comply with my orders. Still on her knees, she moved to him and carefully straddled his body, then took hold of his cock and held it steady as she slowly lowered herself, taking it inside her. When she had it all she began to move up and down. There wasn't much expression on her face. Tears were trickling, but she wasn't sobbing or anything, just moving slowly and steadily. After a minute I told her to go a little faster, and she did. I wastched her breasts bouncing and her legs flexing and her hair moving around and I thought of Christy again, I don't know why. I told her to go still faster, and then to slow down, and then to speed up again, and she did it all. At one point I told her to lie down on top of him and kiss him passionately, and she did that. Through it all Dave was moaning and babbling and generally enjoying himself. When I saw that he was close to the end I said, "All right, Stella, Dave likes your mouth so much, I want you to finish him off that way. And be sure to swallow every last drop."

       And Stella did that too.

                        #

       Stella left my office so late that morning that I more than half expected Denise to complain to me again, but she didn't. She seemed to have been avoiding me the last couple of days, and even in the meetings there was no more banter between us. I wondered if we would ever get back to normal after what she had told me, and how I had reacted. She seemed to be her usual acerbic, bossy, self-confident self, but I couldn't help thinking about her being tied up and helpless and loving it. She, of course, knew that I was thinking of that whenever I saw her, and it didn't make for easy relations.

       Stella continued to come to my office every morning, as ordered, and take off her clothes. Sometimes I fucked her, but mostly I didn't. She told me Larry had called her a couple of times, wanting to get together, but she had blown him off. Dave kept bothering me to get her to fuck him again, but I told him to forget it. I told him that if he did his job without pissing me off for the rest of the year, maybe I'd let him have her again as a Christmas bonus.

       Stella seemed relieved that I wasn't making her fuck anybody else, but I knew she would if I told her to, and that drove me crazy. And all I could think of to do about it was to keep making her do it, and to make it as unpleasant for her as possible. So one morning, while she was in my office, I got on line and signed her up for a computer dating service. Then I started looking through the files of the men who had posted profiles and pictures on line. I was looking for the most unattractive, the weirdest-looking, the most disgusting of them, and somewhat to my surprise there was no shortage of candidates.

       "How about this one," I said to Stella. "Come and look." She came around my desk so she could look at my computer with me. I pulled her onto my lap, my hand going automatically to her naked breast.

       "Oh Jesus," she said as she looked at the picture on the computer screen. It showed a middle-aged man, very fat, almost bald, with crooked teeth and mottled skin. I couldn't believe that anybody would put a picture like that up on a dating service, but I guess that was the best he could do.

       "Yeah, he'll do," I said. "To start with. I want you to make a date with him, Stella." Stella made a whimpering sound. I moved my hand to her other breast. "I don't think you'll have any trouble getting him to meet you, do you? And I want you to fuck him, Stella. I want you to fuck him on the first date, I want you to fuck him as much as he wants, and in any way he wants. And I want you to do it enthusiastically, Stella. Okay? Now let's see who else we can come up with."

       I continued to manipulate the keyboard with one hand while manipulating Stella's breasts with the other. I brought up several more pictures of disgusting-looking guys and saved them for future reference. Soon Stella was sobbing softly, and that and the slight squirming of her naked body in my lap was making my dick hard. "Kiss me, Stella," I said, and as she did I reached down and unzipped my fly. A minute later I was fucking her in my chair.

       "I want you to call this guy today," I told her. "And meet him tonight. And tomorrow I want to hear all about it. In detail. Okay, Stella?"

       Stella didn't answer. She just continued to sob. And I came inside her.

                         #

       Later that day I got a call from Brian. "Got a girl for you, Michael," he said. "Told you I'd do you right, didn't I? This is one gorgeous doll, and she'll do anything you want. Want me to send her over tonight?"

       "Is she as good as Christy?" I said.

       "Forget Christy," Brian snapped. "Christy's gone. This girl is better than Christy. And this one is as loyal as the day is long. I made sure of that by making her watch some of what I did to Christy. You can be damn sure there's no way she's gonna take any chances of getting herself into that situation."

       "Can I do anything I want with her?" I said.

       "Pretty much," Brian said. "Only no permanent damage, you know?"

       "You mean I can't put cigarettes out on her eyes?" I said.

       There was a long silence. Something had made me say that, and now I was sorry. I knew Brian could hear what was in my voice when I asked that question, and that was interesting, because I didn't know what was there myself. It was kind of a joke, a bad joke, but it was more than that. I don't think Brian cared for it. I didn't much either.

       "That bothering you, Michael?" Brian said finally. "That you did that?"

       "I just--look, Brian--"

       "Because at the time I kind of thought you enjoyed it. You know? At least a little bit."

       I couldn't argue with that. "Sorry," I said. "Forget it. Bad joke. But listen, I--I'm kind of busy tonight, Brian. Thanks all the same, but let's make it another time, okay?"

       Again there was a pause. "Sure thing, buddy," Brian said shortly, and then he hung up.

       My hand was shaking a little as I replaced the receiver.

                       #   

       "Don't bother," I said to Stella as she began to take her clothes off the next morning. I had been up late drinking and I felt rotten and hung over. I wasn't in any shape to fuck anybody. "Just tell me what happened with Dumbrowski." Charlie Dumbrowski was the name of the guy I had found on the computer.
       Stella's voice was flat and toneless. "What do you think happened?" she said, looking at me with dull eyes. "Just what you wanted to happen. I did what you said. I was a whore. I fucked him. I did it all. He loved it. What else do you want to know?"        

       "Details," I said.

       Stella closed her eyes. She was slumping in her chair. "I called him up and made a date. He seemed surprised that I had called him; I think it was probably the only response he's gotten. I met him for a drink at a bar near his place. God," Stella said. "God, he was worse than his picture. Truly disgusting. I wanted to run away."

       "Why didn't you?" I said.

       She didn't answer. She just opened her eyes and looked at me, then closed them again. "After a couple of drinks he asked me if I would have dinner with him. I said--I said I wasn't hungry for food. I said why didn't we just go to his place instead."

       "Good girl," I said. "What was his reaction?"

       Stella opened her eyes again. She looked sick. "First he was surprised," she said. "And then he was suspicious. And then he--he asked me if I was a hooker."

       I laughed. "I hope you said yes," I said. "You could have made some good money there, Stella."

       "No," Stella said. "I told him the truth."

       "The truth," I said. "What truth is that, Stella?"

       "I told him the truth," she said again. "You didn't say I couldn't do that."

       "You told him about me?"

       "I didn't say who you were. I told him I was following orders. I told him I was there to fuck him. I told him I would do it any way he wanted for as long as he wanted, because that's what you told me to do. That's what I told him."

       "Uh-huh. And what did he say to that?"        

       "I guess he didn't believe me. Or he thought I was crazy."

       "Well, he was right about that," I said. "So what happened?"

       "He asked me a lot of questions, and I kept giving him the same answers, and I could see that he didn't know what to do, he was suspicious, but also he obviously wanted to--he wanted--"

       "He wanted to fuck the shit out of you," I said.        "Finally he said he didn't want to take me to his place, but he said would I go with him to a hotel."

       "And you said yes," I said.

       "Yes."

       "And you did."

       "Yes."

       "Do go on," I said.

       Stella gave a quivering sigh. "He was nervous, and all sweaty, and...Oh Jesus. Oh Christ. I just wanted to get it over with, but--but I knew I--" She closed her eyes again. "I took my clothes off for him. I thought he would--come right then. But he got his clothes off too, and I got on the bed and he got on top of me and we did it. It was--it was very unpleasant," Stella said. "He was heavy and sweaty and smelly, and his breath wasn't good, and he kept grunting in my face, and--" She paused. "Anyway, he didn't last long. But then, of course, he wanted to do it again. And he asked me if I would--go down on him."

       "And you did," I said.

       "Yes, and I nearly threw up."

       "But you did it. Because I told you to."

       Stella was silent. "He--his crotch smelled like pea soup," she said then. "I could hardly--I couldn't--"

       "I'm sure you did it well," I said. "Did he come in your mouth?"

       "Not then. Later. Because he kept-- When he saw that I--I really would do anything he wanted, he kept asking me to do more things, just to see if--how much I-- He couldn't get enough. Even when he couldn't get hard any more, he still made me lick him and--"

       "Did he fuck you in the ass?" I asked.

       "Yes. He tried anyway. He made me-- Oh Jesus." She started to cry then.

       "Stella," I said after a moment. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Why are you doing this? Why don't you just quit? Leave the paper, or don't, but just stop. Stop this crazy pretense and tell me to go to hell. Why can't you do that, Stella?"

       "I don't know," Stella said, still crying. "I can't. I don't know."

       Again I had the urge to hit her, or to hit something anyway. I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

       "Okay, fine," I said finally. "If that's how you want it. I'll let you know later whether I want you to go back to Dumbrowski tonight, or to call one of those other lovely fellows we picked out, okay? Now get the hell out of my office."

       And she left.

                         #

       I didn't send her back to Dumbrowski, but I told her I would sometime in the future. Instead I picked out one of the other guys I'd found on the computer. And the next day I picked another one. There was no shortage of unattractive or gross or weird-looking guys subscribing to that dating service, and I couldn't believe any of them had ever gotten a response from a woman. I chose a different one each day, and had Stella call them up and meet them and fuck them, just as with Dumbrowski. She didn't give them her real name, or any contact information, so I knew they wouldn't be bothering her afterwards. Each morning she came into my office and told me all about her night. If her stories got me excited enough I would fuck her or have her suck me off, but mostly I just enjoyed her shame and her anger and her strange inexplicable submissiveness. I enjoyed it even though it made me angry. I didn't try to understand it anymore. Sometimes the men I sent her to turned out to be not so bad, but usually she hated it all, and sometimes she hated it so much that I was tempted to make her go back to a particular man again. But giving herself to a different one every night made her feel more like a whore, and gave her a fresh sense of mortification each time, and that pleased me too.

       One night I was working late when Denise came into my office. She closed the door behind her and sat down in the chair closest to my desk.

       "Hi, Denise," I said. "What's up?"

       For a long moment she didn't say anything. I waited. Then she said in a low voice, "You're the only one who knows."

       "Knows what?" I said, though I was pretty sure what she was talking about.

       "You know what," she said. "You're the only--aside from Therese, of course, and she's not-- But you're--" She stopped. I didn't say anything.

       She took a breath. "Look," she said. "I've been thinking about it. About what you said. It's--It's all I--I can't..."

       "About the girl in the movie?" I said. "Hung up by her wrists and--"

       "Yes. That. Tied that way. I--I'm..."

       "You want to be her," I said.

       "Michael..."

       "You want me to do it to you."

       Denise turned her face away. "You're the only one who knows," she said, so low I could hardly hear her.

       My cock was stirring. "I told you I'd be happy to do that for you, Denise," I said.

       She looked back at me then, and now there was something of the old Denise in her face. "On my terms," she said. "If you--if I let you--it would have to be on my terms."

       "And what terms are those?" I asked.

       There was a pause. Then she got up and moved over to the window and looked out. "You can't touch me," she said.

       I thought about that. "Well, I'm not sure I can tie you up without touching you, Denise."

       "You know what I mean," Denise said. "You can't touch my--my body. You can't--you can't do anything...sexual. You have to promise me that."

       "Hmmm," I said. "But you told me you get excited when you're tied up, Denise. I mean, isn't that why you--You said that you got so turned on you even let your lady friend--"

       "That's not your problem," Denise snapped, turning back to me. "I mean it, Michael. I'm serious. That's not what I want from you. You have to give me your word, or I won't--" She stopped and took a long breath. "Please, Michael," she said then, almost in a whisper.

       "Well...all right," I said then. "I won't touch you or whatever--unless you want me to. Okay, Denise? How's that?"

       "Your word," Denise said.

       "You have my word."

       She took another long breath. "All right," she said, and came back and sat down again.

       "So where would we do this?" I said. "We'd need to find someplace with--with something we could--"

       "My house," Denise said, not looking at me. "In my basement. There's a--a pipe..."

       "A pipe? Is it strong enough? Would it hold up? We wouldn't want--"

       "Yes," Denise said. "I think so. I--I've looked at it. It's big and thick and it--it should be..."

       "Okay,' I said. "And I guess you've got ropes and stuff, whatever."

       "Yes," Denise said.

       "Okay. So when do you want to do this, Denise?"

       She looked at me then. Her expression was guarded, almost impassive--perhaps even angry--and yet there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a kind of neediness in their depths that turned me on tremendously. "Why not now?" was what she said.

       I looked at the unfinished work on my desk and mentally consigned it to hell. "Let's go," I said, and stood up.

                    #        

       Denise's basement was unfinished, just a large space with concrete walls, an old furnace in one corner, and a few boxes and some miscellaneous discarded junk piled here and there. Overhead, sure enough, a thick black pipe ran across the ceiling. There was also a step stool set beneath it, which I figured was what Denise had used to examine the pipe. I got up on it and took a look myself. The pipe seemed strong and sturdy.

       Denise had sent me down there by myself while she went to her bedroom to get the stuff we would need. When she came down I saw that she had changed her clothes. The blouse and skirt she had on were not overtly sexy or provocative, but they did give her a more feminine, gentler appearance than she usually presented in the business suits she wore at the office. She was carrying a box which she set down on the stool. In it I saw a variety of ropes, along with some manacles and handcuffs.

       "Therese left this," she told me. "I'm sure she wants it back, but since she's not talking to me I guess she'll have to wait."

       I took a pair of handcuffs out of the box and saw that they were padded. "Pretty cushy," I said. "Padding and all. That's more than Chr--than the girl in the movie had."

       "It doesn't help that much when you've got them on," Denise said. Then, slowly, she raised her arms and held them out in front of her, extended toward me, her hands close together. Obviously she was signaling me to put the cuffs on her. So I did.

       I noticed that her hands trembled slightly as I closed the padded steel around each wrist. I closed them tightly enough so that they wouldn't slip, but not so tightly that they actually bruised her flesh. Still, I heard her make a soft gasping sound as they imprisoned her waiting wrists.

       At the bottom of the box I found a sizeable coil of rope, which seemed sturdy yet flexible, and long enough to do the job. While rummaging around in there I came upon something else too--a small whip, or quirt, with a leather handle and two thin but wicked-looking tails.

       Denise hadn't mentioned anything like that.

       I pulled out the rope and knotted one end of it securely around the short chain between the cuffs. I then moved the box away and got up on the stool, holding the other end of the rope, which I quickly slid over the pipe, pulling at it until it grew taut and began to tug at Denise's cuffs, forcing her arms upward. I continued to pull at it, but slowly now, slowly, as I looked down at her, watching those arms gradually rising, moving up over her head, moving higher, straightening, finally going taut as the rope pulled inexorably at the imprisoning cuffs. I watched her adjust her position so that she was directly under the spot where the rope lay over the pipe, the slight momentary slack that gave her quickly eradicated as I continued to draw on the rope. Her arms were straining now, pulling her body taut as well. A soft moan escaped her lips, and I could hear her breathing heavily.

       When her weight made it hard to haul the rope down any further without exerting all my strength, I said, "Go up on your toes, Denise." She drew in her breath and made a little whimpering sound. "That's how the girl in the movie was," I said. "You want to do it right, don't you?"

       Denise went up on her toes. She was still wearing her shoes, black pumps with fairly low heels, but she got herself up there. It gave me a little more play in the rope, and I quickly pulled it tight again. Then I wrapped it around the pipe several times and finally tied it off. I then got down off the stool, moved it out of the way and positioned myself in front of Denise to get a good look at her.

       It was quite a sight. Denise was sturdily built, but her body was amply curved and well proportioned, and her position showed it off in a way that made me appreciate it as never before. Her raised arms pulled the material of her blouse tightly over her straining breasts--tightly enough so that I could see the shapes of her nipples standing out, obviously hard, even through her blouse and bra. Her skirt was snug over her flaring hips, and the hem of it rose well above her knees, showing me her shapely bare legs, which quivered and shifted as she tried to get a comfortable purchase on her toes. She was breathing heavily, those breasts rising and falling, and as I stood there that breathing became audible, and then a low moaning sound began to come from her throat. Her eyes closed and her head fell back and the sound got louder. My cock was suddenly hard as hell.

       "How does it feel, Denise?" I asked her.

       Slowly her head came up and her eyes opened. They focused on me but they were far away. "Oh god..." she breathed, panting. "Oh god, Michael...It's...I can't...Oh Jesus..."

       "Good as you expected?" I said. "Is it turning you on, Denise? Looks like it from here."

       She only moaned in reply. I wanted to put my hands on her in the worst way, but I remembered my promise. Not that she could have done anything about it at that point, but if I didn't play it right I knew I would never have this chance again. "It's turning me on, I can tell you that," I said. "I can see how much you like being that way. All stretched out and helpless." She moaned again. "And you like me watching you that way, don't you, Denise?"

       "Don't..." she breathed, but her voice was weak. "Oh god, Michael... it's so..."

       "Better than with Therese, isn't it?" I said. "It's better with a man, right? Just like you thought."

       "You..." Denise panted. "You said...there were other men..."

       "What? Oh...in the movie. Yes. Other men too. Watching. Think about that, Denise. All of them watching you now."

       "Ohhh..." Her head fell back again. Her toes were giving way under her, and as they did the cuffs pulled more tightly against her wrists, her arms straining under her weight. She groaned, and after a moment went up on the balls of her feet again. She continued to alternate between supporting herself on her weakening toes and virtually hanging by her wrists, just as Christy had at Brian's house. But with Denise the resulting pain and exhaustion only seemed to add to the strange pleasure, or whatever it was, that consumed her. Her harsh breathing was loud in the room, and her moans were almost continuous now.

       "Yes," I said. "And remember, Denise, the girl was naked."

       "No..." It was a whimper.

       "Stark naked," I said. "In front of all those men. Looking at her helpless body. Wanting her. Lusting after her. And she couldn't--"

       "Michael..." Her throat was tight; she could barely get the words out. "Please...Oh god...please..."

       I couldn't tell if she was saying please stop or please go ahead. Maybe she didn't know either. "You want to be like that, don't you, Denise?" I said. "You want me to make you naked so you can--"

       A kind of strangled cry came from her and she brought her head up once more. Her eyes were wild as she looked at me. She started to shake her head, then stopped. "Damn you..." she gasped out. "Damn you, Michael..."

       I stepped toward her then, until I was standing right in front of her, close enough to touch. "I said I wouldn't touch you unless you wanted me to," I said. "Tell me you want me to, Denise. Say it."

       Her eyes were enormous. I was so close to her I could feel her panting breath on my face. "I..." she choked. "I..." But she couldn't say it. Or wouldn't. But I couldn't hold back any longer. I slowly raised my hand to her face and just placed one finger against her cheek. Technically I was breaking my promise, but I figured if she didn't want it she would certainly let me know.

       Denise gave a start when I touched her, and jerked her head away. "You promised..." she breathed. But the reproach in her wide staring eyes was drowned out by something else.

       "Yes," I said. "And I'll stop if you tell me to." And slowly I moved the finger to touch her cheek again. Her already taut body went stiff for a moment, but this time she didn't move away. I held my finger where it was until that extra tension subsided a bit. Then I moved it down, slowly, very slowly, down over the side of her face to her neck, and then further down.  

       Denise's already loud breathing got louder, and she made a small whimpering sound in her throat as I drew that finger down onto her blouse and over the slope of her left breast. Although my heart was racing and my cock throbbing in my pants, I forced myself not to hurry. Her breasts were rising and falling visibly with her rapid breathing. I slid the finger deliberately over the surface of the heaving mound until I reached the nipple. It felt stiff and rubbery under my touch, even through her blouse and whatever she wore underneath.

       She caught her breath sharply as I slid my finger over the hard nubbin, and then gave a little cry as I circled it slowly, rubbing it and feeling it flex with the pressure. Then, still using just the one finger, I traced a line across her chest to the other breast, rubbing and manipulating that nipple in the same way.

       "Oh, damn you!" Denise whispered breathlessly. But that was all she said. Her head fell back and she began to moan, softly but steadily. Emboldened now, I moved back to the left breast and this time cupped my hand over it. When this brought only another sharp gasp from Denise, I brought my other hand into play and was soon holding a breast in each hand, squeezing them gently. Her moans got louder.

       Her breasts felt wonderful under my touch, firm yet resilient. I slid my palms over them, savoring the delicious feel of the hard nipples and the yielding flesh. Finally I brought my right hand up to the neck of her blouse and slowly undid the top button.

       Her head came up again. Her mouth was open, her face flushed, her eyes crazy. "Michael..." she panted.

       "Yes, Denise?" I said, and I opened the next button.

       "You...I...I don't..."

       "Yes, you do," I said. "This is what you want, Denise." I opened the third button. "To be naked and helpless," I said. "Like that girl. In front of all those men. Think of those men watching, Denise."

       "No...ohhh..." For a moment her eyes darted around the room, as if she could actually see them. Then once again she let her head fall back, and the moaning resumed.

       I undid the rest of the buttons, pulling the blouse out of her skirt to get at the last ones, then spread the blouse open. Beneath it a black brassiere restrained her heaving breasts. I looked to see if it hooked in front, but it didn't. So I moved to her skirt, finding the little button and zipper at one side and opening them. The skirt fell around her feet. I already knew she had great legs, but I'd never seen so much of them before. The sight of her in bra and panties, especially stretched out that way, was incredibly arousing. I wanted to rip them off her, but that was something more easily done in pornographic fiction than in reality. I walked around in back of her to open the bra. I had to push her blouse up out of the way to get to it, and when I got it unhooked it just hung there by the shoulder straps. I walked around to face her and impatiently pulled the bra up over her breasts so I could see them.

       They were magnificent. Lifted and only slightly flattened by her tautly raised arms, they curved up and out as if defying not only gravity but the world itself, her long hard red nipples pointing straight ahead. Holding the bra out of the way, I bent my head to take one in my mouth. I heard Denise making new sounds as I sucked on it, my tongue lapping at the nipple, circling it as my finger had done, trying to take as much of that springy mound into my mouth as I could. Her moans were broken now, interspersed with gasps and incoherent cries. I moved to the other breast and devoured that one too.

       When I pulled back from her, the bra fell down over her tits again. For some reason that infuriated me. I took hold of it and tried to yank it off her, but the straps held, and the effort only brought a cry of pain from Denise. I cursed and looked frantically around for something to cut it with. There was nothing.

       "Wait here," I said to her--an unnecessary command if ever there was one--and I moved to the stairs and ran up them, hearing Denise's fearful wail behind me. I was looking for her kitchen and a good sharp knife, but I came upon a bathroom first, and there on a counter was a small pair of scissors. I grabbed it and went back to Denise.        

       She was sweating now, and I could see that the ordeal of alternately trying to stay on her toes and letting herself virtually hang by her wrists in the padded cuffs was putting an almost unbearable strain on her; but she wasn't asking to be released, or even showing any sign of wanting to. And I wasn't ready to take her down yet.

       I used the scissors to cut the straps of her bra, and then pulled it off. I also cut through the armholes of her blouse to the collar, so I could take that off too. That left her panties, and while I was at it I decided to cut them off as well, rather than pull them down. Denise whimpered as I did so. Her small patch of red pubic hair stood out like fire against the whiteness of her belly and inflamed my lust even more.

       Tossing the scissors aside, I moved to put my hands on her again. I slid them all over that body, glorying in the feel of her naked flesh, her back, her ass, her thighs, and of course her boobs. I slid a hand between her straining legs and felt the softness of her pussy. It was wet. Denise gasped and cried out. I moved still closer and put my arms around her, pulling her against me, kissing her neck as my hands continued to roam. My cock was threatening to burst right through my pants. I rubbed it against her. Her harsh, panting, gasping breath was loud in my ear. Her head was still hanging back. I put a hand on the back of her neck and pushed up, raising it so that I could look at her face. Her eyes were glazed and crazy, and I was not sure she saw me.

       "You sweet helpless bitch," I said, and I jammed my lips against hers, kissing her open, panting, moaning mouth. I thrust my tongue inside it and rubbed it agaisnt hers. Denise did not actively respond, but she did not try to pull away, only continued to gasp and moan into my mouth.

       I pulled back then and started scrabbling at my clothes, cursing under my breath when I couldn't get them off fast enough. I wanted her so much I was actually shaking. Her head had fallen back again, and she gave another sharp little cry when I stepped up and pressed my now naked body against hers, my rigid cock leading the way.

       I would have fucked her right there, just that way, with her hanging from her wrists, but it wouldn't work; the height was wrong, I couldn't get the proper traction or make the right contact. I cursed aloud this time, seething with frustration. I would have to take her down. I dragged the stool over again, got up on it and with some difficulty managed to unfasten the rope I had tied around the pipe. Denise's arms came down, and she groaned loudly as her body went slack. She fell to her knees, then toppled over onto her side, curling herself into a kind of fetal position. I jumped down and moved to her. Crouching over her, I reached for her and rolled her onto her back. I pulled her legs apart and got between them. I was panting almost as hard as she was. Denise stared up at me, and suddenly her wide eyes seemed to register what she was seeing.

       "Oh Jesus!" she gasped out, and for a terrible moment I thought she was going to push me away, fight me off. But it was just the opposite. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back to the floor. She stretched her still cuffed hands back over her head, as though they were tied to something, and she splayed her legs as wide as they would go. I brought my cock to the wetness between them and rammed it into her with one hard thrust.

       She screamed.        

       She screamed twice, and her body bucked, and as I began to fuck her she raised her widely parted legs and wrapped them around me. She kept her arms as they were, but she clutched me tightly with those legs, squeezing them around my waist and locking her ankles behind my back, pulling me into her as her lower body began to hump beneath me, matching my strokes. Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth was open and gasping, and each time I rammed into her she let out a loud rasping noise that sounded like haughh!

       "Haughh!" she cried again and again as I thrust at her wildly. "Haughh! Haughh! Haughh!" She twisted and writhed against the hard concrete floor, but she still kept her arms stretched back above her head. I knew I couldn't last long, but I held out until I felt her convulse beneath me, her pussy spasming around my dick as she screamed more piercingly than before. Then I poured my jism into her body and collapsed on top of her.

       I heard the harsh, gradually diminishing sound of her panting in my ear as I slowly regained my senses. Her legs released their grip on my body, and finally I slipped out of her and rolled off, lying on my side next to her and propping my head on my hand so I could look down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her arms still extended, her gorgeous breasts moving up and down with her still rapid breathing. Even now I could hardly keep my hands off her. As I watched she opened her eyes and looked at me. They were more focused now, but I couldn't read what was in them.

       "All right, Michael," she said then, in a flat though still somewhat breathless voice. "You got what you wanted. You can go now."

       The last thing I wanted to do was go. "I think you got what you wanted too, Denise," I said to her. "You don't really want me to go, do you? We have all night ahead of us."

       There was a bit of the old Denise in her face now, and in her voice too when she said, "Don't push your luck, Michael. This was...it was a one-time thing, all right? I was...I was curious, and you... But we can't..."

       But she still had not moved her cuffed arms from their stretched out position. "Well, maybe it is a one-time thing," I said. "But it doesn't have to end right now, does it?" Tentatively, I put out a hand and lightly stroked her left nipple.

       "Don't," she said, but she didn't pull away.

       "You know, I was thinking about how you told me your friend used to tie you," I said. "All spread out on your bed. Or in a chair. I'd really like to see you that way, Denise. Don't you think that would be fun?"

       Her nipple was hardening again under my fingers. "Christ, haven't you had enough?" Denise said.

       "Have you?"

       Her eyes closed for a moment, then opened. "Tie me on my bed," she repeated, as if this was a new idea.

       "Hand and foot," I said. "All stretched out. Like you said. You said it turned you on. Remember?"

       She didn't answer. She just looked at me for a moment. "And what would you do then?" she asked finally.        

       "Probably fuck you again," I told her. "Hell, I could do that right now. But if you--"

       "Is that it?" Denise said.

       I was taken aback for a moment. "What?"
       "Is that it?" she repeated. "Is that all you'd want to do?"

       I was puzzled. What did she mean? And then suddenly I remembered the little riding quirt I had seen in the box she'd brought down. I had almost forgotten about it in the excitement of what had happened. For a moment my breathing nearly stopped.

       "What else would you want me to do, Denise?" I said. When she didn't reply, I took a deep breath. "Maybe use that little whip I saw in the box? Would you like that, Denise? Did Therese do that too?" 

       Still she didn't answer, but she closed her eyes again, and the tiniest of moans escaped from her throat. My cock was hard again now, and I cupped her breast in my hand, squeezing just a little.

       "You know..." I said, and my voice sounded a bit husky. "You know, I didn't tell you everything about what they did to that girl. In the movie. They had her standing on this metal plate, see, and they..." And I went on to tell her about Christy's ordeal, about the electric shocks, and the whipping, and the burning. All of it. Denise was panting again by the time I finished, and my dick was throbbing.

       When I stopped she opened her eyes. They were melting, and her face was slack, as though it were melting too. Slowly then, she brought her arms down and sat up. She struggled to get to her feet, and I stood and helped her up.

       "Upstairs," she whispered.

       Together we moved to the stairs, the handcuffs still on her wrists. As we passed the box I picked it up and took it with me.

       I watched the movement of Christine's ass as she moved ahead of me up the narrow basement steps, then led me up another flight of stairs to her bedroom. Her movement was slow and a bit unsteady, partly because her hands were still pinioned in front of her and partly because of the lingering effects of having been tied so stringently. But the sight was diverting.

       In her bedroom she went directly to the bed and lay down on her back. It was a large double bed, with plenty of room for her to stretch out. Her hands went back over her head again, and she spread her legs open. "Do it," she said huskily. "Make it tight. Tight, Michael."

       My cock was still hard, and I wanted to throw myself on her again right there, but I also wanted to do what she wanted. I found the keys to the handcuffs in the box and released the cuff on her right wrist. I then pulled her left arm toward the corner of the bed and locked the free cuff around the bedpost. I pulled out another pair of cuffs and fastened her right arm to the opposite post the same way. Her arms were stretched pretty tight, but the padding on the cuffs guarded her wrists from any extreme abrasion.

       I used rope to tie her legs, knotting a piece of it securely around each ankle, wrapping the other end around one of the bottom posts and pulling it tight--just as tight as I could--before fastening it off. This left Denise in a classic spread-eagle, her body as taut as it would go. She was moaning softly by the time I finished. 

     "How's that, Denise?" I said, panting a little. "Tight enough for you? Is it as good as Therese did it? It's better, right? Takes a man to do it right. You knew that, Denise."

       Denise couldn't move at all, except for her head, which was rolling slowly from side to side, her eyes closed. "Oh god, Michael..." she whimpered. "Oh god...oh Jesus..."

       "I want to fuck you again, Denise," I said. "Is that all right with you? Do I have your permission?" I was kind of sticking it to her, because she was obviously so turned on by her helplessness that she wasn't going to refuse me anything. Just like with Therese. And that thought gave me another idea.

       I put hand on her breast as I stood by the side of the bed, playing with her stiff nipple. Her moans got louder. "Remember what you did with Therese, Denise?" I said to her. "After she left you tied up this way? You ate her pussy. You told me that, remember? Even though you're not a lez. You like cock better than pussy, Denise, so I know you'll do me the same kind of favor, right?"

       Denise's head stopped rolling and her eyes came open to look at me. "You...you bastard..." she moaned.

       "Okay." I shrugged. "You said Therese left you that way all night before you did it. Is that what I would have to do, Denise? I don't really want to wait that long, though. Wouldn't you--"

       Denise said something I couldn't make out. Her voice was too low, the words lost amid her quick, loud breathing. "What was that, Denise?" I said.

       She swallowed and said it again. "Make me do it," she choked out. "Make me!"

       Well. Damn.

       "I can do that," I said. I climbed onto the bed and swung one leg over her body, kneeling astride her chest. My rear end brushed her hard-nippled breasts; my stiff dick pointed right at her mouth. I brought it closer, touching it to her lips, but she turned her head away. I took hold of her hair with both hands and turned it back. Her mouth was closed tight; she was breathing stertorously through her nose. Her eyes were wide and wild.

       "Open, Denise," I panted, and I twisted her hair, pulling at it hard. Little whimpering sounds came from her throat, but she kept her mouth stubbornly closed, still trying to turn her head away, despite what must have been the acute pain in her scalp. I was mad with frustration. I thought of giving up and just fucking the shit out of her. And then I again remembered the whip. Maybe that was what she wanted.

       I let go of her hair and got off the bed. I was panting hard. I went to the box and pulled out the little riding quirt. I brought it over to the bed and held it up so she could see it. "Is this what you want, Denise?" I said. "You want me to use this on you? Is that it?"

       She didn't answer. She closed her eyes and rolled her head away, and a soft whine escaped from her still closed lips. "Is that it?" I repeated, and just for the hell of it I brought the whip close to her and, holding it by the handle, let the two leather tails dangle onto her body, sliding them from her belly up to her breasts, letting them play over the deliciously upthrust mounds. She caught her breath sharply, her lips parting slightly now, and then moaned, her immovable body trying vainly to strain upward against its restraints.

       "All right," I said. I had never whipped anybody before, but I was willing to try. I raised the thing up and brought it down, lashing it across her stomach. The blow was not very hard, but it made a smack. Denise reacted with a soft grunt and a low moan. I lashed her again, this time across one outstretched thigh. Another moan, louder this time, but it seemed to contain at least as much frustration as pain.

       "Harder!" she gasped out then. "Harder, damn you! Harder!"

       Jesus. All right, harder she wanted, harder she would get. I wanted to hurt her now. I wanted to whip her breasts, but I was afraid to. I raised the quirt higher and again brought it down on her stomach, this time a good deal harder than before.

       "Aaahh!" she cried out, and her body jerked sharply. I did it again, and her cry was louder. It made me crazy. Part of me wanted to go on whipping her, but I fought it down.

       "Had enough, Denise?" I said breathlessly. "Will you do it now?"

       Her eyes were still closed, her head rolling, her mouth gulping air and moaning. She started to speak, but had to make several tries before she could. "My breasts," she got out finally. "Hit my breasts!"

       I couldn't believe it. "Okay," I said. I breathed as deeply as I could, getting myself together. Then I raised the quirt high and slashed it down, aiming for her left breast. The tails caught it squarely, just above the nipple.

       Denise screamed. My cock jumped. I thought I was going to come right there. Before I could stop myself I raised my arm and whipped her other breast, even harder, one of the tails hitting directly on the nipple. She screamed again, an ear-shattering shriek, and then began to sob.

       I dropped the quirt and practically leaped onto the bed, straddling her as before. Again I grabbed her hair and turned her face to my cock, but now her mouth was open. Open because she was sobbing and gasping, but also because she was ready. I jammed my dick into that mouth and she took it in, all of it, and as I began to fuck her face she closed her lips around it and I could feel her tongue on me. I held onto her hair and plunged myself in and out of her mouth. She was panting through her nose and making grunting sounds between sobs and moans, and gagging occasionally as I hit the back of her throat, but she was sucking and licking me through it all. If I had not come inside her just a few minutes before I would not have lasted for a minute, but as it was I was able to hold out and savor the intense pleasure of what she was doing to me, and what I was doing to her.

       I was even able eventually to pull out of her mouth while I was still hard. I really did want to fuck her again. Denise gave a cry as I drew away, but I moved down her body until I was lying between her outstretched legs. I brought my head to one of her breasts, striped now with the mark of the whip, and took it into my mouth. I sucked on it hard, and then took the nipple between my teeth and bit at it. Denise groaned loudly. I did the same with the other breast and she cried out, her body trying to surge upwards, but in vain.        

       Then I fucked her. She was wet, wetter than before, but still tight, and although she was unable to wrap her legs around me now, her very helplessness galvanized my passion, as it surely did hers. I forced myself to go slowly this time, listening to her cries and moans as I pumped in and out of her. Her eyes were closed, her head again rolling slowly back and forth.

       "This is what you needed, right, Denise?" I panted. "A man, not a girl. A man who can fuck the shit out of you. While you're helpless. Right, Denise?" She groaned, but didn't answer. "Look at me, Denise," I said. "Look at me, damn it!"

       Her head stopped rolling and her eyes opened. I don't know what they saw, if anything. I kept moving. "That's right, isn't it?" I repeated.

       "Michael..." she breathed. I could barely hear her.

       "Yes, Michael," I said. "I'm the one who can do this for you, Denise. I'm the only one. You know that, don't you?"

       "Ohh...Jesus...Michael..."

       "And we're going to do this again, Denise. Again and again. Isn't that what you want?"

       "I...I don't...I..."
       "Yes you do," I said. "I can tie you up and I can hurt you and I can fuck you and we can do it every damn day, Denise. We can do it at the office too. Won't that be fun?"

       Her eyes widened then. "Wh-what..."

       "Think about it," I said. I was still fucking her, slowly and rhythmically. "Being tied up at work. Being available for me to do that to you whenever I want. Big bad Denise, strutting around your department as usual, giving orders, being the big boss. And never knowing when I might call you into my office and show you what you really are. Make you helpless. Even whip you there. You couldn't scream too loud though, we'd have to--"

       "Noooo," Denise moaned, but her breathing got even faster. I could see fear in her eyes now, but something more as well.

       "I could put you under my desk," I told her. "On your knees under my desk, tied hand and foot, sucking my cock while I worked. People would come in while you're doing it, but if you were quiet they wouldn't--"

       "Oh Jesus!" she gasped out. "You...ohhh... ohhh..." I could feel her body tightening beneath me. I began to thrust faster inside her.

       "Or maybe you'd want them to know," I panted. "Maybe you'd like to do it for them too."

       "Nooo...Michael...ohh god...unnhhh..."

       "Think about it, Denise. Everybody seeing you like that. Knowing what you are. I could take you into the morning meeting, all tied up. Naked. Naked and helpless. And you..."

       "HAUGH!" Denise cried. I was moving still harder now. "HAUGH! Oh Christ oh Jesus HAUGH! Michael...ahhh...unnhhh...HAAAUGH!" And then she came, harder than before, her body jerking and rippling convulsively, her arms and legs straining to the utmost, her cunt squeezing me uncontrollably until I couldn't hold out any more and shot everything I had left inside her.   

                       #   

       "Fantasy is one thing," Denise was saying to me not half an hour later. "Reality quite another. There will be nothing between us at the office but our usual professional relationship. That must be absolutely clear, Michael." I was amazed at how quickly she had recovered from what had happened and reverted to her familiar self. I kept thinking that I should have kept her tied up rather than releasing her after I fucked her. But I couldn't keep her tied up forever, and besides I was exhausted.

       "Is that reality?" I said. "Why is that more real than what we just did? Your needs are as real as anything, Denise. Maybe more. I think the part of you that craves to be tied up and hurt is more the real Denise than the crusty bitch you show to the world. Don't you?"

       "Get the hell out of here," Denise said. She had put on a robe which completely hid her lush body, and was sitting on the side of the bed. I was still naked.

       "Why don't I stick around a while?" I said. Maybe later on we could--"

       "I said leave, Michael, damn it!"

       "What if I don't want to?" I said. "What are you going to do, Denise? Call the cops?"

       Denise got up and walked, not hastily, across the room to a dresser. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small pistol, which she then calmly pointed at me. "I told you to get out," she said.

       "Jesus Christ!" I scrambled out of the bed and got dressed more quickly than I ever had in my life. She lowered the gun but held on to it as I did so. "Shit, Denise, all right, I'm going!" I said. And I did.

       I had been thinking I had stumbled into a good thing with Denise, and that since I was the only man who knew about her cravings I would almost certainly be enjoying further good times with her, if not in the office at least outside. But now I was not so sure.

                      #   

       Denise didn't come to work the next day, but I managed to drag myself in. First thing in the morning Stella came into my office as usual, and as usual she began to take off her clothes, but this time I told her not to bother, just to tell me what had happened with the man I had sent her to the night before. She told me in a flat voice. It had been fairly unpleasant. When she finished she said, "How long are you going to keep making me do this?"

       "How long are you going to let me?" I said.        At that point my phone rang. It was Brian.

       "Hey, buddy," Brian said. "How you doing? I was wondering if you were ready for that girl I told you about. It's been a long time since Christy, you know what I mean? Aren't you getting hungry? Or are you getting too old to enjoy pussy these days?"

       "Not that damn old," I said. "But...the fact is, Brian, I've been getting sort of lucky on my own lately." I winked at Stella. "Not that I'm not grateful," I hastened to add. "You know that, right?"

       "Hey, if you say so," Brian said. "Glad to hear you're doing so well. Why don't you just call me when your supply runs out, okay?"

       "Sure thing." I looked at Stella again. And then I got an idea. "Wait a minute, Brian," I said, grinning at her. "Turn about is fair play, right? Why don't you let me send you a girl this time?"

       Stella looked apprehensive. Brian laughed. "Hey, buddy, I'm not short of nookie, you know?" he said. "I got all I can use. But thanks."

       "But this girl is really special," I told him. "Blonde. Gorgeous. Great body. And I can guarantee she gives a fantastic blow job." Stella was glaring at me now. "Not only that," I went on, "but when you're done with her you can pass her on to your boys. She won't object at all." Stella's eyes widened, and she shook her head, looking at me pleadingly, but she said nothing. "No rough stuff, of course," I added hastily. "Not like--I mean, you won't have to hurt her or anything. She'll do anything you want. What do you say? It'll make me feel good to pay you back a little, you know?"

       Brain laughed again. "Well, okay, what the hell, send her over," he said. "Christ, if she's that good I might just keep her here. You got any objection to that?"

       A chill went through me. This was something I hadn't anticipated. But I figured he was probably kidding. And if he wasn't...what could I do?

       "No," I said. "I have no objection. You're the man, Brian."

       "Don't forget it," Brian said, and he hung up.

                        #    

       I was glad Stella hadn't been able to hear Brian's part of the conversation. She was upset enough as it was. She had tears in her eyes as I hung up the phone.

       "You're sending me on gang bangs now?" she said chokingly. "How many men this time, Michael?"

       I shrugged. "As many as Brian says," I told her. "But don't worry--maybe it won't be a gang bang. Maybe it'll just be one at a time."

       "You--you--"

       "Come off it, Stella," I said. "This act is getting tired. You don't want to do it, don't do it." Of course I knew she would do it, as she had done everything else I told her to do; but still, I regretted saying those words as soon as they were out of my mouth. If she decided to quit now, I would have to make it up to Brian somehow. Not a prospect I looked forward to.

       "Now get back to work," I told her. "Denise is out today, and it's going to be pretty busy over there."

                         #                

       Denise came in the next day, but Stella didn't. Nor did she call in sick. After the morning meeting I tried calling her but there was no answer. So I dailed Brian's number.

       "Yeah, she's here," Brian told me. "And hey, you were right, buddy, she's quite a piece. Knows what she's doing, for sure. Figured she was a whore at first, but it turns out she works for you, is that right?"        

       "Yes, she's in the rewrite department," I said. "But she didn't come in today, so I just wanted to--"

       "Yeah, she's kind of worn out," Brian said. "But she's fine, buddy. Just fine."

       "Um...how long do you think she'll be there?" I said.

       "Dunno. Think I'll keep her around for a few days, anyway. The boys like her a lot, and they don't get as much as they'd like. I usually keep them on a strict ration." He laughed. "You don't mind, right?"

       "No," I said quckly. "It's just that things are kind of busy here, and if she's not going to come to work I'd have to--"

       "Think of it as a vacation," Brian said. "A few days, a week, whatever. Till we get tired of her. You want me to send somebody to keep you happy meanwhile?"

       "No thanks," I said. "But she's sll right, though?"

       "Right as rain. Maybe a little unhappy. Don't think she expected to spend quite so much time with us. But don't worry, nobody's doing a Christy on her. Send her back to you in one piece, guaranteed. Okay, buddy?"

       I wondered if Stella would be missed anyplace else. I really knew almost nothing about her personal life. Friends, family. But I knew that if there was anything to worry about on that score, Brian would take care of it. He was good at that kind of thing.

       "Sure," I said.

                       #    

       Denise was not happy about Stella not being there. "What do you mean, vacation?" she stormed at me. "That girl hasn't been here long enough to take a vacation. What the hell is going on, Michael? I'm short-handed over there as it is, you know that. How long is she going to be out?"

       "A few days," I said. "Maybe a week. That's all. You can make do, Denise. Hire a temp. Hire two. Whatever it takes, I'll approve it, okay?"

       "Temps are more trouble than they're worth," Denise said. "At least that slut knows what she's doing, when she can put her mind to it. Where is she anyway? Don't you miss fucking her? Or do you have her holed up in your apartment or something."

       'No I don't," I said. "And speaking of fucking..."

       She glared at me. "Don't start, Michael."

       I put my hands up in mock terror. "Okay, okay," I said. "Don't shoot me."

       Denise smiled grimly. "You didn't think it was so funny when I actually had my gun on you," she said.

       "No I didn't," I admitted. "That was a little much, Denise. You didn't need to do that."

       "Yes I did. I let you go too far, Michael. You were taking advantage."

       "You can't tell me you didn't like what we did," I said.

       "What I'm saying is, I say when--and if--we do it. And when we stop. Okay?"

       I shrugged. "Sure."

       "And I told you it's not going to happen in the office. Not ever. So don't even bring it up again, all right?"

       "Anything you say, Annie Oakley," I said.

       "Okay. Now I wanted to talk to you about the late edition. When--"

       "But you can't stop me from dreaming," I said.

       "What?"

       "Dreaming," I repeated. "Thinking. Fantasizing in my mind. You can't shoot me for that, Denise."

       "What are you--"

       "I can't help it," I said. "I'm seeing you tied over this desk, Denise. Bending over it, with your legs--"

       "Damn you!" Denise stood up, her eyes blazing. "I told you--"        

       "Your legs spread wide," I said. "Tied to the desk legs. Your body lying over--"

       "Fuck you!" Denise spat. "Just fuck you to hell, you bastard!" And she turned and left my office, slamming the door behind her.

                        #

       I saw her again at the morning meeting. She glared at me as she sat in her usual place next to me. Under the hubbub of people coming in, chairs scraping and general chatting I leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Or lying on top of it," I said. "All spread out and--"

       I thought she was going to slap me. But she contained herself. "Damn you, Michael," she hissed. "If I have to bring my gun into this office, I'll do it!"

       "I can think of better things you could bring in," I said. "Like those handcuffs. Or that nice little whip thing. You could--"

       Denise got up abruptly and moved around the table till she found another chair. I could see some of the staff looking curious about this unusal move, but no one said anything.

       I started the meeting with a hard-on.

                         #  

       For the next few days Denise avoided me as much as she could, and when she couldn't she was cool and distant. Stella still didn't come back, and by the following week I was getting really worried. Finally I called Brian. He assured me that Stella was just fine, but when I asked him how much longer he was planning to keep her, he was vague. "I'm training her," was all he said.

       "Training her? What do you mean?"

       "What do you think I mean, Michael? Like Christy. You remember Christy, I know."

       "You mean you're hypnotizing her?"

       "I'm working on it. It's not like in the movies, you know. You can't do it just like that. And you can't do it with everybody. But this girl is ripe for it. She's the type, and when I've got her really trained she'll be so obedient she'll make Christy look like Ma Barker." He laughed.

       "Yeah, well, she's pretty damn obedient anyway, without hypnosis," I said. "And don't forget that Christy turned on you in the end."

       "Yeah, because I was careless with her. With this cunt I'm gonna make sure she stays under all the time. That's why it's taking more time. And yes, I know she did what you told her. She's very suggestible, and she persuaded herself that you had a hold over her. It's like she hypnotized herself. But she could've undone that any time she really wanted to. She won't have that choice with me."

       "It sounds like you want to keep her permanently, Brian," I said.

       "You got a problem with that, Michael?" he asked. "Don't worry, you can still fuck her. Once she's ready I'll send her around to see you any time you want."

       "No problem," I said. "Except..."

       "Except what?" His voice got harder.

       "Nothing," I said quickly. "It's fine with me, Brian. It's just that...well, she's kind of good at her job, and she'll be hard to replace at the paper. Unless you're gonna let her keep working here..."

       "No way," Brian said. "The bitch is working for me now. Fine piece like that will bring in a lot of money too. But for you it'll be free, Mike. Any time. Okay?"

       "Sure," I said. "That's fine, Brian. I'll--We'll find somebody else."        

       "Good man," Brian said, and hung up.         

           I felt a little sick as I replaced the receiver. I didn't expect that Brian would actually hurt Stella very much--as long as she remained subservient to his wishes--and what he had in mind for her would not be much different from what I'd had her doing. But still I wasn't very happy about it.

       And now I would have to tell Denise that Stella would no longer be working in her department. I wasn't looking forward to that.        

                        #   

       Instead of calling Denise into my office, I went to hers, which was little more than a cubbyhole in one corner of the rewrite department. It was just about large enough for her very cluttered desk; there was not even a visitor's chair. She gave me an unfriendly look as I came in. "I'm busy, Michael," she said.

       "You're always busy." I sat down on the edge of her desk and gave it to her straight. "Stella's not going to be working here anymore.'

       Her look became a glare and her face went dark. "What?" she choked out. "God damn it, Michael! What did you do? I knew it--you had to keep fucking with her, didn't you? Couldn't leave the girl alone. You--"

       "I didn't do anything," I told her. "Calm down. We'll find somebody else."

       "Don't tell me to calm down! It's not that  damn easy, she was good. Damn it, Michael, get her back. Offer her more money. Tell her you'll leave her the fuck alone. Whatever. I don't want to--"

       "I can't do that, Denise," I said.

       "Why the fuck not?"

       "She's gone to work for somebody else."

       "Who? Another paper? What--"

       "No. Somebody else. A man I know."

       "A man? What are you talking about? Who?"

       'It doesn't matter," I said. 'She's gone. We'll just have to--"

       "Oh shit, Michael, don't tell me we'll just have to. That's easy for you, you don't have to run this damn department day after day with a bunch of clowns who couldn't--Listen, who is this man? Is she fucking him now, is that it?"

       "Yes, I'm sure she is," I said.

       "Well, why can't she fuck him and work here at the same time? Is it you? You jealous or something, so you fired her? Is that it?"

       "No," I said. "I didn't fire her, and I can't get her back, so just accept it, okay?" I stood up and started to leave, but as I got to the door something hit me in the back. She had picked up a glass paperweight from her desk and thrown it at me.

       "Fuck you, Michael!" she shouted. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

       I was flabbergasted. I had expected her to be upset, but this was over the top, and not like Denise at all. I could see some of the people in the rewrite room looking over this way, staring. I closed the office door and turned back to her.

       "What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded. "Are you crazy, Denise?"

       Her face was twisted with anger, but there was also a tear in her eye, and suddenly it came to me that this was not only about Stella. This was something else, and I thought I knew what it was.

       "You're getting out of hand, Denise," I said. "Somebody ought to tie you down and fuck the shit out of you."

       "Go to hell, Michael," she said.

       "That's what you need, isn't it, Denise? It was good last time, wasn't it? Remember? You remember all right. You want it again, but you're such a bitch you won't even admit it."

       "Get out of here, you filthy--" She picked up a stapler from her desk and was about to throw that at me too, but I moved forward quickly and caught her wrist, twisting it until she dropped the stapler. But instead of letting go I twisted harder. She drew in her breath with a sharp hissing sound, and then went stiff. I perched on the edge of her desk again, not releasing my grip. She didn't struggle. She sat very still in her chair, her body bent a little because of the angle of her arm, taking short shallow breaths as I held on tightly to her painfully twisted wrist. Staring at me with her wide wild eyes.

       "Listen to me, you bitch," I said in a low voice. "You want to know why I can't get Stella back? You remember that movie I told you about? Where the girl was hung up and tortured, with the electricity and the burning and all? Well that was no movie, okay? That was real. I saw it. And the guy that was doing it to her? That was the man Stella is with now. So that's--"

       Denise's eyes were wider than ever. "It was...it was real?" she whispered. "They...a man did that to her? You...you saw it?"

       "You like that, huh, Denise?" I said. "Gets to you, right?" I stood up and tugged at her wrist, bringing her up out of her chair. I moved closer and pulled the twisted arm behind her, holding her like that. I knew I was hurting her, but she only made a whimpering sound, then stood stiff and silent but for her shallow breathing.

       I brought my free hand up and put it on her breast, kneading it slightly through her shirt. She raised her hand reflexively to fend me off, but I gave her twisted arm a little more pressure and she whimpered again. "No," I said. "Don't fight me, Denise," and the hand fell to her side.

       "No, Michael," she whispered. "Not here. Not here, damn it..."

       "Here," I said. I was panting a little too. "No more shit, Denise. This is what you are. You know it and I know it. No more, you say when and if. Now I say when and if. And where."

       "No..." she moaned weakly.

       "Yes." I pulled her closer and moved to kiss her, but she turned her head away. I pushed her arm up a bit more and tightened my grip on her breast, squeezing it. Her head fell back and she gave a little cry. I could see the pain in her face, and I could see what else was there. What I had seen the other night when I had whipped her. I held her that way for several moments, and finally her head came up and her face turned toward me, and when I kissed her she didn't resist. Her lips were quivering but they were soft and pliant, and she moaned softly into my mouth. I kissed her that way until I let her go. She gave another cry as I released her arm and her breast. Then I moved around behind her, kicking her chair out of the way.

       "Over the desk," I said.

       "Michael..."

       "Shut up." I pushed her up against the front of her desk and put my hands on her shoulders, pressing her forward and down. The desk was cluttered with piles of paper and miscellaneous objects, the tools of her work, but I pushed her all the way down so that her upper body was lying on top of them. I could see the stapler she had tried to throw at me pressing into her right breast. Her arms went out reflexively to try to ease her descent, and ended up spread out to either side, her hands clutching the edges of the desk.

       "Spread your legs," I said.

       "Michael..." Gasping. "We can't...You can't..."

       I kicked her legs apart, and as I did so I took hold of her skirt and pulled it up around her waist. She had a pair of red panties on. I tugged at them, but they wouldn't tear. I saw a scissors on her desk and used that to cut through the crotch of them. That was all I needed.

       Denise was moaning, and I wondered if anybody outside the little office could hear her. There was no lock on the door, and I knew this was crazy, but I couldn't stop now. "Be quiet," I told her. Then I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock, which was hard as hell. Denise gasped at the sound.

       "Nooo..." she wailed, but there was no conviction in her cry. And when I reached down to guide my cock into her pussy I found that it was wet. I had no trouble pushing myself all the way inside her. She drew in her breath with a sharp hiss, and I felt her vaginal walls contract involuntarily around me. I held myself still, fighting not to come immediately under that pressure, until their grip lessened. "Damn you," Denise groaned. But she didn't struggle.

       I began to fuck her then, not too fast, not too hard, but strongly and steadily. I could hear her panting breath, and the occasional moan or whimper that escaped her mouth. At one point I gave her a sharp slap on the behind, and she gave a yelp. I was afraid she would be heard outside, so I didn't repeat the action.

       "This is how it's going to be, Denise," I said in a low voice as I pumped in and out of her. "From now on. I take you when I want you. Where I want you. When I say jump, you jump. When I say fuck, you fuck. When I say--"

       "Nooo," she gasped out, and I felt her pussy tighten around me again. "No," she moaned breathlessly. "No...No...No..."

       "Yes," I said. "Remember what I said, Denise? About putting you under my desk, so you could suck my cock? Keeping you that way all tied up and--"

       "Ohh god..." She raised her head from the desk, trying to look back at me. Her mouth was wide open, panting hard. Her eyes were wide too, staring crazily at something I couldn't see. "Oh god, oh Jesus, ohhh..."

       "And that's not all," I said, sounding pretty breathless myself. "Why should I be the only man who knows what you are? All these guys you order around all day--and the women too--wouldn't they like to see old bossy Denise taken down a peg or two? What do you think, Denise?"

       "Haauughh..." Denise said. "Unnhhh..." She was shaking her head. She didn't know she was doing it. "Unnhhh...Michael," she said. "Ohh Christ...ohhhh..."

       "Strip you naked," I said, moving harder inside her. "Tie your hands behind you. Take you into the meeting that way. Show them all."

       "Haauughh..." she said again. "Ohh ahhh ohh Jesus Michael unnhhh..." Her body was moving now in response to my strokes, as much as it could, pinned between me and the desk. Her sounds were getting louder, and I again thought of the people outside, but I couldn't worry about that now.

       "Lay you out on the table," I said, pounding at her now. "Spread you out for them. Let them have you. All of them. Anybody who wants it. Let them all..."

       "Haugh!" Denise howled. "Haugh! Haugh! Haughhh!!" And her body convulsed, spasming again and again, her cunt milking my cock fiercely as I shot spurt after spurt of jism inside her.        

                      #        

       When, after taking a few moments to recover, I pulled out and stepped away from her, Denise stayed as she was, still clutching the sides of the desk and gasping for breath. Finally she relaxed her grip and tried to bring her legs together, but they wouldn't hold her, and her upper body slid off the desk as she crumpled slowly to the floor. We were both still breathing heavily. I leaned against the desk and looked down at her as she crouched on all fours, her skirt still rucked up over her ass, her bosom heaving up and down under her starched blouse. Seeing her that way caused a stirring in my loins, even though my cock was too depleted to do anything about it right then.

       "That's a great position for you, Denise," I said. I pushed away from the desk and took a step toward her, so that my crotch was right in front of her face. "Why don't you clean this off for me, okay?"

       "Fuck you, Michael," was what she said. Her eyes blazed now as she looked up at me, and not with passion. "You put that thing in my mouth and I'll fucking bite it off, I swear to god!"

       Damn. This woman was something else. I thought about grabbing her hair and making her do it; that might have turned her on again, but on the other hand I was afraid it might not, and that she would do just what she'd said she would, so I didn't risk it.

       But I knew now that she needed what only I could give her, since she wasn't about to let any other man in on her secret, and I knew the pressure of her need would soon build up again, as it evidently had after that first time.

       "Okay, Denise," I said, tucking myself back in my pants and zipping up. "I can wait. I guess you're still calling the shots after all. For now, anyway. But I'll be around when you need it again."

       "You fucking arrogant bastard," Denise panted. Her eyes were still blazing, but less intensely now, and in spite of her fierce words there was something just a bit uncertain in her voice. "It's over, Michael," she said. "That's it. Never again. Get the hell out of here."

       "We'll see," I said. I went to the door and opened it, and Denise scrambled to hide herself behind the desk as I did so. I closed the door behind me, and I was aware of several people staring at me as I walked through the rewrite room. But none of them said anything. I was the boss.            

                       #

       Denise avoided me as much as possible for the next few days. At the morning meetings she continued to sit apart from me. I found myself lusting after her actively now, more strongly than I ever had before. I had thoroughly enjoyed the sense of power I had felt in dominating her, in breaking her strong spirit, even though I knew that it was her own needs and not any particular strength on my part that had made that happen. But it was a heady feeling, even more so than with Stella, who had been more or less vulnerable from the first. As for the dark unholy joy that had overcome me when I had done what I did to Christy, under Brian's instruction--well, I didn't want to think about that. 

       I didn't press her, however. I bided my time, waiting, as I had told her, for the pressure to build up again. I figured a week would be about right, or maybe two to be sure. Then, when she was ripe for it, I would pay another visit to her office, or call her into mine... My cock would get hard as I thought of how it would be.

       But it didn't take that long. On the next Monday morning, when I walked into my office, I found two objects lying neatly on my desk. One was a pair of fur-lined handcuffs, such as I had found in the box at Denise's house, with the small handcuff key sticking out of one of the locks. The other object was the little two-tailed whip.  

                       #

       When I had recovered from my surprise, it was all I could do to restrain myself from calling Denise in immediately. But I managed. She had given me the upper hand now, and I was going to play it cool. Let her do the waiting this time.

       So when I saw her at the morning meeting I acted as if nothing had happened. I gave no sign, didn't say a word to her. And I kept that up for the next three days. I knew she must be puzzled, not to say frustrated, that she must be wondering if somehow I hadn't seen her tokens of surrender--that was how I thought of them--or if for some reason I was no longer interested. I thought of going on that way until she couldn't stand it any more and confronted me on her own, but truthfully I doubted that I could hold out that long.

       I did hold out, as I say, for several days, during which Denise avoided me more than ever. When I saw her at the meetings or passed her in the hall, she would not even look at me. But once or twice I saw her flush a little, with whetever combination of anger and embarrassment I did not know. But I knew that there had to be a large element of mortification in what she was feeling,and that knowedge turned me on even more.

       On Thursday I waylaid her at the door as she came into the morning meeting. "I want you to sit in your regular chair today, Denise," I whispered to her. I saw her body stiffen, but her expression hardly changed. For a moment she just stood there, as if deciding whether or not to respond. Then she turned and moved to her usual chair, just to my right as I sat at the head of the long table.

       I started the meeting and it took its usual course. I glanced at Denise from time to time, but her face showed nothing, and when she spoke she was as businesslike as ever. I waited until the most pressing issues had been settled and the meeting was starting to wind down. Then, while Dave was discussing some minor matter with our features editor, I knocked a pen I had been using off the table, making it seem as accidental as I could, and quickly bent down as if to retrieve it. I made some soft cursing sounds to indicate that it had rolled out of my reach, to give me an excuse for staying down there a few moments, in case anyone was paying attention.

       I had picked up a length of rope that morning at a hardware store, and now I pulled it out of my jacket pocket and, as swiftly as I could, began to wrap it around Denise's ankles under the table. I could barely hear her gasp of surprise, and could only hope it wasn't noticeable to anyone else. I wound the rope hastily but tightly around and around both ankles, lashing them together, and then tied the two ends in a square knot. Then I bobbed up again, pen in hand, thankful that no one seemed to be staring at me in puzzled curiosity.

       Denise was looking straight ahead of her, and if her breathing was just a tad faster than normal, or if there was the faintest tinge of red at her cheekbones, no one else seemed to notice. A few minutes later the meeting ended and there was a bustle of activity as people got up, gathered their things and started to leave. I sat where I was, and so did Denise of course. I leaned over to her and began to talk in a low voice about something or other, to give some cover to the fact that we were not leaving immediately, until finally everyone had gone.

       She turned to me then, and was about to say something, but she didn't. She had invited this, had given me this power, and though part of her still fought it, she knew she couldn't stop it now. I could see it in her eyes. It made my heart beat faster.

       Those eyes now left me to look swiftly around at her surroundings. The inner walls of the meeting room were of glass, leaving the room open to view from the corridor outside. They were covered with adjustable blinds, usually left open. I got up and moved to them. There was no one in the corridor just then, and I closed the blinds, moving from one section to another until we were shielded from view. Then I checked the door. There was no lock, but I moved up a heavy chair and placed it under the knob, just in case.

       "Michael..." Denise breathed.

       "I know I said I'd bring you in here to show you off to everybody," I said to her. I heard her draw in her breath. "But we're not ready for that yet. Stand up, Denise."

       She hesitated only a moment. Then, pushing her chair back and steadying herself with her hands on the table, she got to her feet. I could see the ropes cutting into her ankles as they held her legs together. I walked up to her, pulling the fur-lined handcuffs she had left on my desk out of my other pocket. Her eyes widened as she saw them.

       "Hands behind your back," I said. I moved behind her and waited, and listened to her breathing. Slowly, slowly, she drew her arms back. They were quivering slightly as she moved her wrists close together. I closed the handcuffs around them. Tightly. I heard her gasp again.

       "Now," I said, moving around her again. "We have some unfinished business, remember? On your knees, Denise."

       She didn't move.

       "You know, I didn't bring that little whip in here with me," I told her. "But I can go and get it, if that's what it takes."

       She made a little sound in her throat, and then she began to lower herself to the floor. It was difficult, of course, restrained as she was, and she did it slowly and carefully, bending forward as she crouched down to keep her balance. But she had to let herself fall the last few inches, and her knees hit the floor with a painful-sounding thud. She cried out, but managed to keep herself kneeling upright.

       "Good girl," I said, and I unzipped my fly and pulled my cock out. It was more than ready. I stepped up to her and brought it to her mouth. Her lips were already parted to accommodate her rapid breathing, and she did not resist as I parted them further with my dick, pushing it all the way in until she gagged slightly. Then I fucked her mouth. She didn't try to move away, but she didn't help much either.

       "You can do better than that, Denise," I told her. "I know that from experience, remember? Just pretend I'm whipping the shit out of you. Or pretend that the whole staff is still in here, watching you do this. And waiting their turn."

       A muffled moan came from her then, and I felt her lips soften around me. Her tongue came into play, and her head began to move as she sucked me. The moaning continued. I felt my control slipping, and I thought about pulling out and coming all over her face, but by then it was too late and I was shooting down her throat. She took it all.

       She was still moaning as I pulled away from her and zipped myself up. Her kneeling body swayed, and she allowed herself to topple over onto her side. Straightening her bound legs, she rolled onto her back. It was quite a sight. Her hands pinioned behind her made her body arch slightly, pushing her breasts hard against her white blouse, the shapes of her nipples clearly discernable. Her skirt was rucked up well above her knees.

       "Fuck me, Michael," she panted. "Damn you. Damn you. Untie my legs and fuck me."

       "I can't fuck you right now, Denise," I told her. "You just depleted me. I guess you'll have to wait. I think we should get back to work now, don't you?"

       "You bastard," she moaned. "You can't...you can't..."        

       "You want me to get one of the guys to come in here and do it for you?" I said.

       She closed her eyes. "No," she husked. "Filthy bastard. Oh Christ!"

       "Yeah, I think you'd like that, Denise," I said. "But admittedly it would screw up the working situation. Let me think about it for awhile."

       "Oh Christ!" she said again.

       I knelt down and untied the rope around her ankles. I could see the indentations it had made in her skin. With her legs free, I ran a hand up the inside of one of them to her crotch. I could feel how wet it was through her panties. She caught her breath when I touched it, and when I slipped my hand under the panties and fingered her clit, she moaned softly and pushed herself against my hand, her body writhing with her hands still cuffed behind her. When I stopped she gave a little wail of disappointment.

       "Enough," I told her. "People will start wondering." I fished the handcuff key out of my pocket and rolled her onto her side so I could release her wrists.

       "God, I hate you!" Denise panted. "I fucking hate you, Michael."

       "No you don't," I said. "Or maybe you do. But you love me too, Denise. At least you love what I can do to you." I got up then and helped her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, still breathing hard, then steadied herself and began to straighten her clothes.

       "Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning," I told her. "I want to try out that under-the-desk thing. Unfortunately I won't be able to keep you there all day, but..."

       Her eyes blazed at me. "No," she said.

       But she did.

                       #      

       I thought of having her strip for me first thing, like Stella, but I didn't. Instead I told her to get down on her hands and knees and crawl under my desk.

       "Listen, Michael," she began.

       I opened my desk drawer and took out the little whip she had left for me. I placed it on top of the desk and let her look at it. She looked at it. She took a long, slow, deep breath. Then she got down on her knees. Since she was not tied, she was able to do it more gracefully and less painfully than she had the day before, but something about how she did it had my cock hard in seconds. I waited, and after another moment she bent forward and got on all fours. She started to say something then, but she didn't. Instead she began to move. Slowly, on her hands and knees, she crawled up to the desk and then around it. Without getting up, I rolled my chair away a little, to give her access to the kneehole. It was an old, solid wooden desk, quite large and solid enough for someone to crouch beneath it and be completely hidden from view from almost anywhere in the room. Denise hesitated. She made a tiny whimpering sound. Then she crawled under the desk.

       As she turned around I rolled my chair back to its normal position and spread my knees beneath the desk. "You know what to do, Denise," I said.

       "Michael..."

       "Shut up," I said. "I'll punish you later, all right? Just do it now."

       She made another little sound. Then I felt the touch of her hands on my crotch as she worked my zipper down. Her fingers went inside, found my cock and pulled it free. It stood up stiff and throbbing.

       "Good girl," I said. "Here's a little reward." I took the handcuffs out of the drawer and held them under the desk for her to take. "You can put these on," I told her. "Behind your back. Make them tight."

       I could hear her breathing. I heard the clink of the cuffs, and then the ratcheting sounds as she closed one of them around her wrist. Then the other. A soft moan came from her.

       "Are they tight?" I said.

       'Yes, Michael." Her voice was throaty.

       "All right. Now here's the deal. I'm gonna call Dave in here."

       I heard her gasp loudly. "Michael, no! Please, you can't! Michael..."

       "Shut up and listen," I said. "He won't know you're there, Denise. As long as you keep quiet. But you'll know he is. Sitting right there a few feet away from you, while you suck my dick." A small moan from Denise. "And that's what you'll be doing," I went on. "Sucking my dick. All the time he's here. As long as you keep doing it everything will be fine. But if you stop--if you take your mouth off me, even for a moment--I'll tell him where you are. I'll show him. And then you can suck him too. Okay, Denise?"

       "Michael, for god's sake!" She sounded panicky. "You're crazy, Michael, you can't! It would--he would--"

       "It's up to you, Denise," I told her. Of course I really had no intention of exposing her to Dave, or anyone else. It would be too dangerous, and would probably end in her leaving the paper, and she was far too valuable an employee to lose. But while the thought of actual exposure naturally horrified her, the fantasy of it obviously turned her on as well. It turned me on too.

       I picked up my phone and punched in Dave's extension. When he answered I said, "Dave, can you come in here for a minute? Something I want to talk to you about."

       "Sure, be right there."

       "Michael, Jesus!" Denise moaned as I hung up. "Oh damn you to--"

       "Better start sucking, Denise," I said.   

       I heard Dave's knock on the door and felt Denise's mouth on my cock at the same time. I had closed the door but not locked it, and as Dave entered I motioned him to a chair in front of my desk, trying to keep my face from betraying my sudden pleasure as those lips slid down over my rigid pole.

       "So what's up?" Dave asked me, taking a seat.

       "Ah...um...I um...I wanted to talk to you about...about replacing Stella," I said. It was a struggle to keep my voice steady, as well as my face. I took a deep breath to get myself under control as Denise began to suck me. "We have to, ah, find somebody to...to take her place, because that department is...is under--"

       "Yeah, I know," Dave said. "I'll call the agencies and start interviewing." He grinned. "I doubt those interviews will be as interesting as Stella's was though, right?" he said. "Damn, that girl was something else! Too bad she's gone. I would have liked to take another crack at that, for sure."

       "Yes, I bet you would," I said. Denise was sucking me slowly, and I still had to make an effort to appear natural, but it was easier now. "But hey, there are plenty of other attractive women around here you could hit on," I went on. "Ever think about Denise, for instance?"

       Denise's mouth stopped moving for a brief moment, and I thought I heard a faint sound from under the desk. But Dave didn't seem have heard anything; he was staring at me as Denise's sucking resumed. Then he laughed.

       "Denise?" he repeated incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding me! Jesus, that gal is a dyke if I ever saw one."

       "How do you know?" I said. I put one hand casually under the desk and stroked Denise's hair.

       "Shit, it's obvious, Mike, come on. She puts all the guys down every chance she gets. She's a bitch."

       "Yeah, she's a bitch all right," I said. "But she puts everybody down. And you have to admit she's got a good body on her."

       "Well, yeah, she does. And sure, if I thought she'd go for it I wouldn't mind screwing the shit out of her. But I just know she hates dick, that one."

       My dick was now deep inside Denise's moving mouth. "Hey, you never know," I said. "Maybe you should try it sometime, see what happens."

       Dave shrugged. "Maybe," he said dubiously. "So, anything else, Mike?"

       "Nope, that's it," I said. "See you at the meeting."

       Denise continued to suck me as Dave got up and left. The minute she heard the door close behind him she spat my cock out of her mouth. "You bastard!" she gasped out breathlessly. "You filthy fucking bastard!"

       "Don't stop sucking, Denise," I said. "How do you know he's gone? Maybe he just pretended to leave. Maybe he's still sitting there. And now you've given it away. He knows you're under there, sucking away at my dick. Right, Dave?" I said, raising my voice a little. "Yes, it's Denise all right. Denise the dyke. The bitch. The put-down artist. She's right here under my desk, on her knees, with her hands cuffed behind her and my dick in her mouth. You want to see her, Dave? You want her to do this for you too?"

       She had to know it was bullshit, of course, but still she couldn't hold back the moan that rose from her throat, or her ragged breathing as her mouth made contact with me again. Her sucking was deeper now, her tongue more active. Small sounds continued to come from her.

       When I felt myself losing control I pulled out of her mouth and rolled my chair back. "Come on out, Denise," I said, a little breathlessly. "Come out here so Dave can see you. Come on."

       "Bastard," she whispered. With her hands fastened behind her she couldn't crawl; she had to shuffle out on her knees, slowly, crouching to avoid hitting her head on the desk. Though she knew I was playing with her, she couldn't help giving a swift, anxious glance around as soon as she was clear, to be sure Dave wasn't really there. I could see the quick relief on her face, and I also thought I saw just a tiny trace of disappointment--but maybe that was my imagination.

       "He's still here," I said, going on with the game. "He's sitting in that chair right there." I indicated the chair Dave had occupied on the other side of the desk. "Why don't you go over there and show him what a good cocksucker you are."

       Denise stared at me. "Are you crazy?" she breathed.

       I reached over and picked up the whip that still lay on my desk. "You want me to persuade you, Denise?"

       Her eyes widened. "Oh my god!" she whispered. "Has that been--did he see it? He must have--"

       "Don't worry," I told her. "He didn't even notice. Dave never notices anything unless it's got tits on it."

       "Oh Jesus..."

       "And speaking of tits," I went on,"I'm sure he'd love to see yours. Go over there and show them to him before you suck him off."

       "Stop it, Michael," she said, but her voice was unsteady. I could see the shapes of her hard nipples poking out against her blouse, her breasts emphasized by the way her arms were pulled behind her back.

       "Okay," I said, and without warning I raised the quirt and lashed it down across her breasts. I didn't use all my strength, but still it must have hurt plenty, even through her blouse and bra. Denise gave a loud cry and bent over as though to protect herself. The sight of her bowed like that, on her knees, did nothing to lessen the stiffness of my dick, still sticking out of my pants. I was so carried away that I lashed her again, this time across her back. She gave another shriek and straightened up. There were tears of pain in her eyes. But she was breathing hard again, and making small sounds in her throat.

       "Do what I told you," I said. "Go over to Dave and show him your tits, then suck him off." And Denise now began to move, again shuffling on her knees. It was slow and awkward, but she crept that way around my desk and over to the chair on the other side. She stopped in front of it, kneeling there, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breathing. She looked over at me questioningly.

       "Let me help you," I said. I got up and moved around the desk, fishing the handcuff key from my pocket. I crouched behind her and unlocked the cuffs, freeing her wrists. She made a moaning sound. I then went to sit in the chair in front of her. "All right, I'm Dave," I said. "Show me your tits, Denise."

       She stared at me for a moment.

       "Close your eyes," I told her, and waited until she did. "Now keep them closed," I said then, "and imagine I'm Dave."

       "Michael..."

       "I'm Dave," I said. "Say it, Denise."

       She took a breath. "You're Dave," she whispered.

       "Who am I?"

       "Dave."

       "Yes. Now show Dave your tits. Go on."

       Denise kept her eyes closed. For a moment she didn't move. Then her hands rose slowly. They were trembling slightly. She hesitated again, then began to open the buttons on her blouse. Her fingers fumbled a bit, but once she started she didn't pause. She opened each button, from the top down, pulling the blouse out of her skirt to undo the last buttons. Then she took it off. Her sizeable breasts bulged over her white bra.

       "Don't stop, Denise," I said. "Dave is waiting."

       With another small sound, she reached back to unhook the bra. Then she slipped the straps off her shoulders and let it fall. Her breasts were magnificent, which of course came as no surprise, as I had seen them before. But now I was seeing them as Dave, and she was showing them to Dave, and it was different.

       "Great tits," I said. "Now suck Dave off."

       "Oh god..." Denise whispered. Then her head bowed over me and her mouth took me inside.

       Just as it had been a different feeling looking at her breasts as Dave rather than myself, so now the fact that in her mind it was Dave she was sucking gave a whole different color to the experience, though the physical sensations were the same as when she had done it for me just a few minutes before. Looking down at her bobbing head,I began to talk to her as I thought Dave might, in his cruder moments. "Yeah, suck me, you bitch!" I said hoarsely. "That's it, you cunt, you crawling cocksucker, take it all, you worthless pig, suck that dick!"

       Muffled groans came from her stuffed mouth as it continued to move up and down on me. I went on calling her names until I started to repeat myself. Then I became aware that she was trying to say something, but I couldn't make out what it was until she lifted her mouth from my cock just long enough to say it. "Punish me..." she gasped out. "Oh god...I'm so bad...punish me..." And then she took me in again.

       I was on the verge of coming, and these words sent me into a frenzy. "Damn right, you whore!" I heard myself say, and I pulled away from her and got up, reaching for the small whip again. I did that to avoid coming right then, and also because I was afraid she might bite my dick off as I did what I was about to do. I raised the quirt and whipped it down across her bare back, this time with all my strength. Denise screamed, still bent over the chair. My head was pounding with lust. I reached down and took hold of her skirt, ripping it down, popping the button at her waist and letting it fall around her knees. I tried to rip her panties off, but they wouldn't give, so I pulled them down over her ass and halfway down her thighs. Then I straightened and raised the whip again, the next blow slashing across her buttocks, which stuck out invitingly in her kneeling position. She cried out again, but didn't move. Her hands clutched at the chair, her face now resting on the seat, almost as if she were still sucking its imaginary occupant. I was out of control now, and I lashed her again and again, not holding back, whipping her ass mostly, with an occasional blow to her back. I knew her cries and screams might be heard from outside, but I was well past worrying about that. Denise never moved, never tried to avoid the whip. There were angry red stripes streaking her back and covering her buttocks when my arm tired and I finally stopped. I was panting hard. And I was crazy.

       I threw the whip from me and dropped down behind her. I pushed her knees apart, but because of the panties they wouldn't spread far enough for me to get access to her cunt. But there was her asshole, right in front of me, small but vulnerable. My raging cock was wet with her saliva. I spread her buttocks apart and moved closer.

       When she felt me there she raised her head and gasped, "No, Michael, no..." But it was too late; the head of my dick was already inside her, and pushing further. I held on to her hips to keep her from moving, but though she wailed in protest, she did not struggle very strongly. Her arms were extended in front of her, her hands clutching tightly at the iron struts at the back of the chair.

       "Shut up and keep sucking him!" I told her, and she lowered her head to the chair seat again. She was sobbing softly now as I worked my way slowly into that tight opening, and when I breached her sphincter muscles she cried out, but didn't raise her head. I saw her knuckles grow white as she tightened her grip on the chair. Still I pushed into her, until I was buried in that tight, twitchy passage. I released her hips and slid my hands under her to cup her breasts as I began to fuck her that way.

       Her sobs soon turned to moans, and then to cries as I moved faster and harder inside her. Fleetingly I thought of trying to gag her with something, but I was too carried away, and it was probably too late anyway; someone must have heard her by now, and it was a wonder no one had at least knocked at the door to find out what was going on. I knew this was crazy, I knew it had to end badly--probably with Denise quitting, or even with me losing my job. But I couldn't stop now, and like I say, it was too late anyway. I just fucked her ass harder, and I squeezed her breasts in my hands, and Denise now began screaming out those pre-orgasmic sounds of hers--"Haugh! Haugh! Haauughh!!"

       I thought my head was going to split open as I burst inside her, and at the same time her body bucked strongly, her ass contracting again and again around my spewing dick. And then it was over.

       I don't remember pulling out of her, or her sliding off the chair, but we ended up lying on the floor, both of us, panting like marathon runners and alternately meeting and avoiding each other's eyes.

       Denise was the first to speak. "Jesus!" she whispered. "Is the door locked?"

       This struck me as funny, but I didn't laugh. "No," I said. "And it's not soundproof either. People must have heard--"

       "I know." She sat up, with some difficulty, moaning softly. Her back and ass were still striped with the marks of the quirt, and I knew she was in pain. "Jesus," she said again. "What are we going to do?"

       "I don't know," I said.

       "I can't stay here, Michael," she said. "Not if--not if everybody--"

       "Why not?" I said. I didn't know if I was serious or not, I just said it. "I should think you'd like it, Denise. Everybody knowing what a slut you are. Knowing they can tie you up and use you any time they want. And doing it. I should think you'd be in heaven."

       I saw it in her eyes for just a moment, the idea of it. But then it faded. "Fuck you, Michael," was what she said. Her panties were still around her thighs; she pulled them up into place and started looking around for the rest of her clothes.        

       "I don't want to lose you, Denise," I said. "You're too valuable around here."

       She found her bra and started getting into it. "You mean as an employee?" she said, grimacing as she tried to fasten the bra behind her. The residual pain from the lashes to her back made it difficult for her, and I stepped up and helped her. "Or as a--what--a victim?"

       "A willing victim," I reminded her. "And the answer is both."

       "I can't do it," she said, picking up her blouse. "You can see that, Michael. It wouldn't work. It's much too dangerous."

       I shrugged. "Okay," I said. "Strict rule. No more of this stuff in the office. You keep working here, and we'll confine our--ah--other activities to the outside."

       Buttoning her blouse, she shook her head. "That won't work either. Even if you could control yourself here, which we've already seen is a dubious proposition, it would show. People would know."

       "So fucking what?" I said. "Who cares what they know, or think they know. If we don't--"

       "No," she said. She picked up her skirt and inspected the place where the button had come off. "I need a pin," she said. I found a safety pin in a drawer and gave it to her. "It's no good, and you know it,' she said. She wasn't talking about the pin.

       I sighed. I knew she was right. If I wanted to keep her on the paper I had to give her up as a sex partner. It wasn't easy, but it had to be done. "Okay," I said finally. "Then we'll stop. You're just too damn good at your job, Denise. I could never find a proper replacement. I need you here. So I give you my word I will never touch you again. We'll go back to being just--well, whatever we were before. Okay?"

       She had pinned her skirt, and now she sat down to put on her shoes. But she stopped in the act and looked up at me. "Well, thanks for the compliment," she said. "And yeah, I would like to be able to keep my job. But there's just one thing." She paused. "The thing is, you're the only one--the only man--who knows about...my weird leanings. You know? I'm not sure why I told you in the first place, but I don't know who else I could...I don't know anybody I would be able to..."

       "Shit, there must be hundreds of guys who would love to tie you up and hurt you, Denise," I said. And then I had another crazy idea. "Wait a minute," I said. "You know that man I told you about...the one in the movie, only it wasn't a movie, with the blonde girl, the guy with the electric plate in the floor, and the... You remember, right?"

       "Of course I remember." She was staring at me. "What are you saying, Michael?"
       "I'm saying...you might like to meet him, Denise. He might like to meet you. He's already met Stella. He's keeping Stella, but if I explained the situation to him, I bet he'd let you keep working here. He's not a bad guy. Well, he is a bad guy, but--"

       "You're crazy," Denise said.

       "I know. Hold on." I picked up the phone and called Brian. "Hi," I said. "This is Michael. And have I got a girl for you..."

                       #  

       So now Denise is living with Brian. And Stella. And Brian's guys. But she comes to work every day. She seems happy as a clam, and she's a lot pleasanter than she used to be. Just as sexy though. She and I have the same kind of bantering relationship we used to have, and we never refer to our more recent activities. But I sure as hell miss them. Still, Brian keeps me supplied with women. He even sends Stella over sometimes. But it's not the same, and every time I look at Denise I wonder if I made the right decision. But you know what? I know damn well I would do the same thing again.

       Hell, I'm a pro.