office slave

THURSDAY



I lay there with my cheek pressed to Amelia’s forehead. I did not want to get up to face the day — with the reality of what Hardy and I had started, Richard’s punishing sex the night before, and worst of all, the greedy pleasure I took from it.



But I was not going to give in to analysing the two personalities of my husband and my perverted enjoyment of my bondage anymore when I had my baby cuddled against me. I gathered her close and I played with her blond curls. I traced the shape of her chubby cheeks and inhaled her baby scent.



But still, I poked and prodded at my memory of last night, and my blood stirred in unbidden arousal. I clamped my thighs together. That was my Hardy last night, wasn’t it? But it was not. It was Richard, wasn’t it? But it was not. Was I being unfaithful then?



Fool, I thought to myself. And I stood up to face a day that was heavy with possibilities, shame, guilt, and a furtive happiness. Was this the way adultery really felt? It had not felt like this the last time.



I took my shower, and patted my body dry, remembering how he pressed me against the wall, and forced me to submit to his fingers. I dressed carefully, picking my undies with such care, remembering how he dragged my panties down before he took me as I was helplessly bent over the couch. I felt my wrists, my arms, trying to relive the taut feeling of my bondage.



My body felt different to me. Everything felt different, even that secret place inside my deepest self that I had always kept safe from everyone, even from Hardy. That perfect place that was home to the perfect girl that was me. Somehow, I felt a bit broken by Richard’s usage of me last night. But through that little crack, I felt that perfect person peer out of her shell, and feel . . . why.. she was feeling a little, liberated, maybe.



I had been that girl, trying so hard to be perfect — the perfect daughter, the perfect student, then the perfect wife. But no. . . not perfect after all. There was that one time, when, oh God . . . and now . . . No, not perfect at all.



Mariella had not arrived yet. As I went through the preparations of making my breakfast and Amelia’s, my mobile phone rang. Caller ID said ‘Office’, and I cautiously said, ‘Hello?’



‘Neen?’ Amazing how accusation, hurt and worry could all be packed into my name.



‘Good morning, Hardy.’ I said, all perfect poise and courtesy, myself.



‘Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well yesterday?’



‘It was nothing. I was just hungry, that’s all.’



‘Right.’ Uncertainty. ‘Are you okay?’



‘Yes, I am. Truly. I’ll be at the office soon.’



‘No. You don’t have to be here until noon. The three musketeers will practice their presentations to you after lunch. You can gather all their notes then. Have a rest. And for God’s sake, eat a good breakfast! And don’t worry about lunch. There’ll be food up here. So, will you be here at noon?’



I smiled at all the emotions I heard in his voice smashing over each other like waves.



‘Yes, Hardy.’ I said. I could hear him start to speak again but I had had enough of the call, and so I gently hung up on Mr Richard Hardington Hunt.



‘Daddy phone Mummy?’



Amelia climbed the kitchen bar stool with Turtle. Instead of answering, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her, tickling her and making farting noises in her neck. She laughed and squirmed in the chair. I started measuring flour, while she and Turtle entertained me.



‘Daddy tickle me too,’ she informed me after a song and dance from the green toy. ‘Tickle, tickle, tickle, he said. We had bwekky. I said, Mummy wake up now, Daddy? He said no, ‘Melia, Mummy happy in dweamland. Can I go dweamland too, Mummy?’



‘Someday, you’ll know that you go to dreamland too. And, are you talking about this morning, sweetheart?’



‘Uhuh, dis mawning. We had bwekky, then we bwush our teethies, then I said, Daddy, I sleepy ‘gain, can I sleep in Mummy bed. Daddy said, yes, ‘Melia, Mummy happy when ‘Melia sleep in Mummy bed. Daddy sing song, lalala. Then I sleepy, and he put me ‘side Mummy. He said, shh, shh, ‘Melia. Then he kiss ‘Melia like dis.’ She kissed Turtle on the forehead. ‘Then Daddy kiss Mummy like dis.’ She kissed Turtle on the lips.



I see. I smiled at her fully, because my heart felt suddenly close to bursting.



‘Mummy happy, Mummy?’ My baby patted Turtles cheek.



‘Yes, sweetheart.’ I said. ‘Pancake for ‘Melia’s second bwekky?’ I crowed. And she clapped her hands and laughed.



I played with Amelia for about an hour in the pool Hardy had built for her the year before. I explored my strength, and decided that yesterday’s weakness had passed. I’ve always had low blood pressure, and I find that going without food for even a few hours could make me dizzy.



I was in a rush to get to work yesterday, knowing that Richard was returning from New York. So I missed breakfast, and all I had to eat was a thin egg sandwich at lunch time. Then he put me through all that shock last night. And that tremendous orgasm. No wonder I caved in. Today, if I was to survive any more of Richard’s ridiculous antics, I would have to eat something at least every hour.



Mariella arrived at about ten o’clock when I was getting ready for work.



She entered my bedroom like a volcano about to explode.



‘Que? Que? What ees theez? I hear you no eat again?’ She shook her finger at me as I carefully outlined my lips in a wine-coloured lip liner. ‘Dios mio, hija! What are dey doing to you in that beezneez?’



‘I’m okay, Mariella. Really, and I had a good breakfast this morning – eggs, sausages and pancake, just like you make it too. Stop worrying about me.’



‘You no want me to worrry?’ She said, her voice rising in her concern, her great chest heaving and her rs rolling. ‘I don’t beleev theez, Mz Nina? You no want me to worry? Mr Richard bring you home last night like you so dead? You so white in yorr face?’



Amelia had come running just in time to hear the end of Mariella’s tirade. She looked at me wide-eyed, then back at Mariella. Then back at me pointing at my face and scolded me in her baby voice.



‘Yeah, Mummy, you so white in yo’ face!’ She pointed then to Mariella. ‘And you so red in yo’ face, ‘Ella. What colo’ my face, ‘Ella? What colo’ ‘Melia face?’



Mariella and I looked at each other.



‘Now look what you’ve started, Mariella.’ I said. And we both burst out laughing. Amelia stared at us for a second, not understanding what was funny, and then laughed with us anyway.



I shared a cup of coffee with Mariella. She forgave me for fainting and for causing her to worry. And at 11.00, I kissed them both goodbye and drove to work.



First up, when I got to Hunter, was my lunch meeting with Richard’s three musketeers, as we called them – Sam, Eve, and Meredith. They were his war generals in the business, his right hand men – err, man and women.



When I came to the office last Monday, as Hardy asked, or rather, ordered, I found that I was, indeed, expected. He had informed all staff that I was going to assist in next week’s Investors’ Conference.



When I first started to make my frequent appearances at work after I married Hardy, I had been sure they would treat me with wariness, being once one of them but now risen in rank because I married the boss. On the contrary, they’re acceptance of me had not changed, for which I was intensely thankful.



Today, when I arrived, Sam greeted me with enthusiastic praise for my writing of the overall summary, the very one Richard had not been very impressed with. Was his criticism of my draft summary a part of play-acting then?



Sam more than made up for Richard’s rudeness, exclaiming over the fact that I had read all the figures, preliminary presentations, and white papers only 24 hours before I started the draft. He then proclaimed me the fourth musketeer, which I’m sure was the highest compliment he could give me.



The food came. Richard had outdone himself with the luncheon. He had a light lunch catered for everyone every Friday, but today, Thursday, there was lunch brought into the small conference room for the four of us.



We sat down around the corner eating table to ready servings of Greek salad, salmon poached in olive oil and olives and broccoli, and a lamb dish with a dish of yoghurt on the side.



After a short spell of silence where we ate through three courses in record time, the conversation picked up when we started to eat dessert — strawberries in cream and honey.



I looked around me while I enjoyed the flow of honey in my mouth.



Sam Weissman was a 28 year old, handsome young man, and extreme intelligent. An economics major from Yale, he was a guru with numbers. He was born rich, but seemingly unspoilt by all the advantages with which he had been born. And he had that cocky, self assured, little boy charm that I found myself warming to again and again.



Eva, well, Eva was a psychologist and a genius in predicting the responses of people to certain variables in the market. You could say she was a marketing psychologist. She was also a blond bombshell, one size smaller than me, and wore business clothes one size smaller than her perfect frame. The effect was certainly distracting to say the least. But I have never seen Richard take up the offer. Not that she was offering anything to Richard. She had eyes only for Sam.



Meredith was our geek, our IT engineer. She was responsible for designing much of the robotics involved in Hunter technology. She was a genius, hands down. She was also geek through and through – geek glasses, hundreds of apps in her mobile, and a ruthless gamer. I never saw her in corporate clothes, but she did say she would come to the conference in dress pants. She came to work in jeans and t-shirt. Now she had a t-shirt that simmered with a setting sun and the words HALO across the front. She told me once it was her favorite X-box game. She also told me I was a dead ringer for the girl hero in it, a girl called Cortana, some kind of artificial intelligence girlfriend of the Master Chief or some such person. I remember asking her, ‘Who? What’s a master chef doing in a video game?’ And Meredith had looked at me with pity.



‘That was great.’ Sam sighed, as he stretched back to pat his stomach. ‘And I think we have you to thank, Nina, for this corporate lunch that broke all records.’



‘Me?’ I asked, surprised.



Meredith looked at me. ‘Oh yes, she doesn’t know.’ She spooned a strawberry into her mouth. ‘Mmmm. Well, Bossman came in this morning looking like thunder about something. Then I heard him on the phone to your housekeeper. I’m thinking your housekeeper was giving him an earful, something about you fainting last night when you got home. He was giving as good as he was getting though. Funny that, Bossman fighting with your housekeeper. I’d love to meet that woman, one day, Nina. Anyway, he said something like, ‘Well if you can’t feed her there, I’ll feed her here myself, or something like that. And that’s the story of this lunch.’ Everyone started chuckling.



I felt my face flushing which Eva noted with interest. ‘Umm, Nina, you’re not, umm, you know?’ She patted her own tummy.



‘You know, what?’ Sam asked in ignorance.



‘Sam, don’t be dim-witted. Pregnant, I mean,’ Eva said, which made me flush some more.



‘No, I am not.’ I said with emphasis. I stood up and walked to the conference table, turned the projector on, and my powerpoint presentation covered the opposite wall. I shuffled through papers to hide my sudden anxiety, and I called to the three over my shoulder.



‘Team, our excessive lunch plus gossip ends right now. Move your heavy bums to this here table and get this meeting on the road. Eve, you start with a market projection and socio-economic implications. Meredith, you follow with all your engineering details. And you being the only darling male here, Sam, you get to finish with all the numbers to show how much money all the investors in the room will expect to earn from this new Hunter product.’



Hunter Innovations was developing advance fuel cell technology to power cars. Up until now, fuel cells have had two successful applications: for stationary installations and for small portable uses.



Now, Hunter had successfully tried and tested a third fuel cell design that could run a car for 100 hours. It was expensive to make, but in the long run, cheaper than gasoline. We were now presenting all the findings to investors who were interested in financing the next stage: manufacturing the first 5,000 cells for mass testing.



My job today, was to listen to all their reports and put them altogether into one cohesive presentation, including the 30-page introduction and summary which Sam had praised – and the very one Richard had used as a prop to turn me into his … office slave.



Everyone was brilliant. And in case Richard was not play-acting when he said I didn’t fully understand the economics of energy, I applied myself to understand everything, every number, even the fine points of the engineering design. I caught on quickly.



For two hours, I took copious notes, wrote comments on everyone’s drafts, designed charts and tables to be inserted into powerpoint slides.



I couldn’t help but be impressed. If all went well, Hunter Innovations was going to be a leader in the race to produce cheap and clean energy for the world. It was exhilarating to be a part of it all.



We stood up at two o’clock. The three musketeers looked drained. They had been working nearly all night long, actually for two whole weeks now. But now their job was done for now. Richard had given them the rest of the day off today and the whole day tomorrow, Friday, but they had to come back to work on the Sunday afternoon to prepare for the conference next week.



Eve called out to me just as I entered my little office next to hers. ‘Oh, I forgot, Nina. Richard asked me to tell you to go straight up to the Penthouse and finish up there. He’ll join you at around six o’clock after his meeting with Tony.’ Tony Carlingford was the scientist behind the new Hunter fuel cell. ‘Oh, and he said he left a tray of sandwiches and fruit in the fridge for a snack.’



She smirked. ‘You sure you’re not pregnant?’



I shooed her away and she went laughing with glee.



I went straight up with a trolley laden with all the papers, computer disks and usb sticks I needed.



I took a deep breath before I stepped out of the lift. I would have to get into my role. I guess it’s as simple as changing clothes.



So I am now Nina, not Neen. I am a Consultant at Hunter Innovations, employed here, but the threat of being fired hanging over my head. I am a mistress. No, not even that. He said I am an office slave. Yes that, not a wife, not even a mistress, beloved or not.



In contrast to my feeling of anticipation this morning, a dark wing of guilt now enveloped me, fanning me with self-disgust and resentment toward Hardy. How dare he? How dare he treat me, his wife, like this? Where was the honour he promised me, the gentleness he had shown me for the last five years? Was this how he really saw me? A body to be used?



I went straight to one of the desks in the corner, not bothering to look at anything else in the room, trying to block out the memories of last night. I entered into this agreement with Hardy expecting a light office romance. How naïve, I thought sourly. It might have been what Hardy would get into, something light and flirty, but this was not Hardy. This was Richard, a man I had never before encountered up close, but who was still very much my husband, and then again, who was not.



Again, I did not want to analyse it just yet. Maybe later, when my mind could separate all these marriage and sex issues from the tangle they were in now, as easy as I could analyse business concepts.



I dismissed all thoughts of Richard and Hardy then, and worked non-stop, as was my habit. I had always derived comfort and stability from concentrating on work, and I happily got lost in the convoluted maze of statistics and reports.



When I finally finished at 5.30, I had powerpoint presentations for Richard, Sam, Eve and Meredith all very nearly completed. All their notes, all the points, all the figures they wanted to emphasize were there in impressive graphs. The slides were alive with the future of the new battery cell and the intelligence of Richard Hunt and his three musketeers. I knew it to be one of the best works I ever did. And I knew the investors would love it.



I turned on the TV to wait for Richard, but turned it off again. I walked around the huge office, and stopped in front of the painting of the woman on the ground. I studied the painter’s name: Wyeth. A Wyeth. I didn’t know much about art, but I knew that name. A Wyeth was worth millions. Hardy’s father, Dad William Hunt, was a lover of art, and went to great lengths to borrow famous paintings and have them in the Penthouse for a certain number of weeks. This must be one of them.



I also noted the changes in the room that I missed when I came in. Richard must have made the change just this morning. There was a fern plant hanging over the space beside the painting, over that spot where he had trapped me nearly naked and ravished me with his finger.



I fell asleep on that couch where he had me writhing in delight 24 hours ago. When I awoke, half an hour later, he still wasn’t there, and I fidgeted around the office. That’s when my mind began working, and analysing our role-play. Hardy and Neen. Richard and Nina. Wife. Mother. Employee. Office mistress. Office slave. Office slave. Office slave…



He came up at about half past six. I was in front of the painting again, staring at it but seeing only the two of us, there pressed on the wall, him bent over me, and me, playing the slut.



I heard his footsteps coming up behind me, and I turned to face him, my eyes wet, nerves stretched to breaking point.



He started to speak but I slapped him, my palm straight and true, turning his cheek instantly red. His head jerked back but when he righted himself to look at me,I lifted my hand to hit him again, but he caught my wrists and held them prisoner under my chin.



‘Do you want out then?’ He said, his voice low and hoarse.



‘Yes, you bastard.’ I hissed. ‘You said you wanted a mistress. You never said anything about treating me like a whore!’



‘Mistress. Whore. Slave.’ He said, his eyes so dark and hard, roaming my face. ‘What’s the difference, Neen?’



‘I am your wife, damn it!’ I said, my voice hitching. I could not be brave in front of this stranger before me. I struggled to free my wrists.



‘Hardy’s maybe. But not mine.’ He said, cruelly, tightening his hold of my hands.



‘We had a deal, Nina. One week, remember?’ He tipped my chin up, and pressed his lips on the tears on my cheek. I felt his hardness nudge me. His mouth travelled down my neck below my ear, where nerves there zapped awareness all the way down to my pussy. My body bucked forward, answering the summoning of his.



‘Hardy!’ I scolded, my will power all but evaporating like my tears.



‘Richard.’ He admonished me. And he bent down and nipped my chin. I shivered. His mouth went down the side of my neck, sucking and biting gently. He abruptly released me and I lost my balance, clutching at his shoulders for support. I felt him unbutton my blouse, and he quickly slipped them down my arms. My bra went as well. Then my skirt. He slapped my hands away as I tried to stop him. Then my panties were dragged down as well.



He folded me in his arms tightly, a hand on my breast, claiming possession. ‘You want him back? You want Hardy back?’ He said, his voice rough, as though in some pain.



‘Yes.’ I moaned, as he pushed my hair aside so he could suck at the skin under my ear. His fingers captured a nipple and squeezed, making me bend backwords, wordlessly offering more.

‘ He won’t make you feel like this. He’s different.’ His mouth found mine, and kissed me, insistent with the promise of a repeat of last night. I twisted away from the depraved temptation he was offering. He let me turn, only to trap me that way, my back against his clothed chest, his arms snaking their way around my body, and his mouth a desperate clutch on my bare shoulder.



I closed my eyes. Richard… even his lips felt different from Hardy’s. Oh God, that was wrong. I was starting to think of them as two different men.



‘I don’t want you, Richard. You make me feel dirty.’ My voice broke apart. ‘I’m afraid, I’m not brave at all. I don’t want this, Hardy. Let’s stop this now.’



One hand had slid up to cup my breast, the other around my throat, under my chin.



He groaned. ‘I’ve had a taste of you… you can’t…I can’t…’ And he fell silent, and still. We stayed that way for so long, his arms like steel bands around me, his warm breath on my ear. ‘Nina.’ He groaned. I felt I was moulded to his body forever. Then he relaxed, and sighed.



‘Okay, so be it. Say it then, Nina. Say the truce words, and I’ll disappear from your life. You’ll get Hardy back. I promised you that.’ He was still so still, I could feel his heart beating on my naked back.



I had stopped resisting. How could I go on fighting him, when he had turned my face sidewise now, his lips on my face, caressing my temple with light feathered kisses.



‘Say them now, Nina. Say the words.’ His voice was bleak, the voice of a lover waiting to be banished from my life.



I opened my mouth to damn him, to damn Richard. But I was suddenly bereft. If I said the words, Richard would go and might never return. I was suddenly afraid I would lose him. He said he had tasted me. Dear God, but I had a taste of him too, of a world where all my choices were taken away, except for one – to accept him and his demons.



And the result? After one night, I wanted Richard’s arms around me forever, banding me to him like Hardy never had. Without Richard, would Hardy exert the control over me that I had always secretly longed for? Without Richard, would I have to ask Hardy to become this mysterious stranger? Would Hardy learn to take me without asking, as I know Richard would?



His lips had stopped their foray while he waited, his breathing loud in my ear.



In my naivete, I had started something I could not undo. Whether it was for the worse or for the better, God only knew, but I could not turn him away now. I gently unclasped his hands and turned in his arms. I placed my hands on his head and pulled his head down, reaching for his lips as a decision was settled in my heart.



‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t say them, Richard.’



He released a gust of breath, and grasped a handful of hair to expose my neck and sucked me there hard under my ear, earning him a bucking of my hips. He lifted me up like a child, pulling my legs to encircle his hips and he carried me toward the boardroom table. He set me down on one end, on the hard edge, with my legs on either side of him.



His lips skimmed my forehead, and he said, his voice trembling a little. ‘I want you now. I promise I won’t hurt you. I promise. But I have to do this. I promise it won’t hurt.’



As he was promising me that, ironically, he reached into his pockets and produced a scarf. Figures, the dear pervert. It was one of mine, a bright red one. Unexpected he put the scarf in my hands. I looked up at him in question. He was looking down at me in that piercing way of his, like he was watching for any hidden messages in my face.



‘Ask me,’ he said. ‘Ask me to bind you, Nina.’



‘Oh.’



I was mistaken when I thought he would take without asking. He was asking me now. He was asking my permission to fuck me senseless tied up and helpless. I looked down at the scarf. It was a lacy one, so red against my olive skin. I twined it around my arm, and I admired the way the scarf complemented my wrist, enhanced the delicacy of my bones. I twined it also around my other arm, to see how it might look to him, my wrists tied together. I didn’t expect the rush of lust it sparked in my breast, spreading down to my torso where a familiar flowering began. My eyes moistened again, this time at the heat rising to my face.



I looked up at him. He had been studying me, reading my thoughts like I was a book. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs. I fidgeted.



‘Why?’ I whispered.



He kept studying the details of my face, while I waited. It was an extraordinary feeling, being inspected so closely. He didn’t answer me.







‘Why?’ I asked, louder this time. Like the way Amelia would.







His lips twitched. He traced my eyebrow, and said, ‘Why do you fascinate me? After all these years?’



I glared at him, and gripped the scarf, ready to hit him with it.



‘I said, Why, Richard! Why this way?’ I twisted my hips to try and push him away, but it caused him to hold me tighter, forcing my soft thighs to cradle his hardness. He pulled at my chin to look up at him.



‘Why?’ He asked. ‘Why not? Why anything really? Why do you hold back from me? Why do you have secrets from me? Why? I want to see you, Nina, really see you.’



Well, I’ll be… That certainly rendered me speechless. I was certain I would sound dim-witted if I said anything in the face of something so profound. And besides, his cock was pressing at me and I was positive my wetness was dampening the front of his trousers. My immediate goal then was not to understand him, but to get him into me as quickly as able.







I slipped my hands out of the coils of my scarf, and handed it to him.



‘What are you waiting for, then?’ I said to him, pretending petulance to cover my breathless urgency. ‘So, see me, Richard.’ He gave a snort at that, then his mouth swooped down and claimed mine, sucking my lip. His lips plundered mine, while he positioned my arms behind me, expertly tying a knot with a few twists of the scarf around the x of my crossed wrists.



My breasts were pushed up to graze his chest, and when he pulled away from my lips, it was to stare down at the former.



I had to close my eyes at the intensely ravenous look on his face. One hand had skated up behind my neck to support my neck, while he slid the other over my breasts, kneading them with firm, possessive strokes.



‘These breasts are mine, Nina.’ He said hoarsely, as he pinched my nipples into hard pebbles. ‘I’d kill any man who would touch them.’ He bent and nipped at one, making me arch back, wordlessly pleading for more of his forage. ‘I see them looking. I know what they’re thinking.’



He pushed me back to lie down on my bound arms on the table. With more silky cord he produced out of somewhere, he secured my ankles to the table legs. I was wide open, my choices gone. Was this what he meant by really seeing me?



I stared at the ceiling, my body humming with expectancy. My pulse pounded in my ears, in my chest, and between my thighs. I could hear him move around the room. I saw the lights dim, and music became louder, a woman in an opera. I heard him open the door of the fridge and then shut it again.



When he came back, he leaned over the side of the table and lifted my head. I saw he had removed his clothes. I peered at him in the dim light. If I was looking for Hardy, he was nowhere to be found in the man looking down at me with a gaze so hungry he almost looked like a wolf.



He lifted me up and placed a large throw pillow under my back. When he saw that I was comfortable, he turned my chin so I could see him. His cock was full and ready, his stomach abs clenched with control.



‘Now the fun begins, dear Nina.’ He said in a low voice and he whipped a white handkerchief around my head and gagged me. ‘This is not to hurt you or scare you. I just want to keep you quiet, that’s all. I have a feeling you’ll be quite noisy.’ He caressed my neck and encircled it with a large hand. ‘And besides, you look… like, like a vessel, for me to fill. You know what I mean?’



He opened something like a jar and after an instant he was smearing something on my breasts. I smelled honey, which made me think of this afternoon’s dessert. He massaged my nipples with it, squeezing them and making me squirm from the amazing sensation. I wanted to rub my thighs together, but it was impossible, my legs wide open in a v.



‘I’ve always, always, wanted to do this to you.’ He murmured, and he suckled at my breast again. He pulled at my chest, so my head fell back, his great hands lifting my upper body to his hunger. Yes, he knew how to suckle. He was a vulture, bent over me, feeding on the honey on my skin, my flesh.



I understood why he silenced me, as my cries of delight escaped me again and again, muffled by my gag. His mouth, his lips and tongue created havoc, insanity and music in me. He pulled at my body with his hands, and pushed at me with his mouth. He knew where to suck, and to bite, to lave, and to blow. And when I could hardly bear it, he lifted his head, and he rubbed honey all over my thighs and around my pussy. And oh,… his tongue, his tongue went there. Hardy never went there. He sucked me, and did things I know not what. I felt his teeth, I felt pulling, and blowing. His tongue went deep, and I came violently on the table, my legs pulling at their bondage and my torso twisting in my climax. I groaned in my gag, Carmen’s Habanera in my ears.



He didn’t give me time to recover. He released my ankles from the cords and pulled me up. ‘It’s time for a shower.’ He said, setting me on the floor. He removed my gag, he pulled my bound wrists and walked us to the bathroom. I was like jelly, my knees could not hold me. I had to lean weakly on the tiled wall while he relieved himself in the toilet. He gestured for me to urinate as well. And I did, avoiding his eyes. Hardy and I had never relieved ourselves in front of each other.



Then I watched him turn the shower on inside the shower enclosure. He helped me into wide cubicle and stood me under the spray. The water washing down on me was warm and delicious. My hair flowed down my back and breasts like a silky veil, and he seemed to take pleasure in that. He washed me, even my hair. And the most beautiful feeling came over me as he massaged my body. He turned me this way and that, careful that no shampoo dripped into my face. My wrists were still tied behind me. He joined me under the spray, reaching behind me. He pulled at my elbows, his attention on the way my breasts flattened on his chest as his soapy hands slid all over my back and buttocks.



Richard cleaned me everywhere, even between the lips of my nethers. I peered up at him through wet eye lashes. He was completely focused on what he was doing, not looking at me looking at him, but at my body which he was handling with such expertise. He finished running his hands down my sides, then fingered combed my hair back and told me to stand in the corner.



Then he washed himself. This time he looked at me, while he lathered himself.



‘Stand straight,’ he said. And I did, displaying my breasts to him. He looked up and down my body, focusing on my breasts while he lathered his cock. It had grown massive as he pumped his hand up and down it, washing it well.



Then when all the lather was gone, he turned the shower off. He folded a towel in half and splayed it on the floor, and followed it with another one. He pushed me down to the towels so I knelt before him. He grasped my head so I could look up at him, and I knew what was next.



‘You’ve never asked me to do this before. I don’t know how.’ I said, breathless, a little defensively. Would I do it right? Would I choke? Would I embarrass myself? He did not give me time to worry much about it.



He tipped my face up and pinched my nose. The next thing I knew, his cock was in my mouth.



I choked, and he pulled out.



‘Open your mouth wider, Nina. It’ll be easier with practice.’



I made to stand, but he had gripped my hair and forced me to stay on my knees.



‘Don’t let me pinch your nose again, Nina.’



I opened my mouth finally and I took him in, my tongue naturally sucking at his tip just so I would get it over with. And so there I was, learning how to suck cock. I was on my knees between his legs, the rough hair on his thighs rubbing on my breasts. My own trembling legs were unable to purchase my balance, and my bound arms were useless behind me. It was his hands that held me in my place, and his long, hard shaft in my mouth. His hands, each of them on each side of my head, gripped my hair to keep my head still as he bobbed in and out of my face.



I allowed him to go deeper, getting into the rhythm. My throat spasmed, as I fought to breath properly. I felt his legs tremble. I had not expected the act to be so arousing for me. Rivulets of water from my hair slid down my back into the crack of my anus, stroking my sensitive flesh as they slithered down my thighs. As Richard gripped my hair and used my mouth and throat, so clearly in the throes of an ecstasy I was giving him, I began to wonder who was slave and who was free.



He took care to be gentle, giving me instructions.



‘Ah, uhmm. That’s good. Nina, suck it now. Stronger. Ahh. I’m going deeper now. That’s good, ah, that’s good.’



I imagine I pleased him very well. It pleased me too. To be this vessel he called me. I was filled with his taste and scent. And I loved it all. I loved the feel of his hands, guiding my head up and down to give him different access angles. His cock filled my mouth and touched my throat, and I thrilled to sense the control he was himself exerting on his own desire. Like saving himself for the best.



My own pussy tightened and another kind of wetness had pooled inside me. As I knelt on those wet towels, I was so wonderfully glad I had not called out for truce.



He went in even deeper and he told me when to hold my breath, to breathe in and out, and I obeyed him. His groans echoed in the shower enclosure above me. And my wetness trailed down my thighs combining with the water still dripping down my back.



He was close to erupting, I felt his cock growing even longer and harder, and the grip on my hair tightened as to cause me pain. I made a distressed sound deep in my throat. He pulled out of my mouth gently, pulled me up and quickly dried us both.



He kissed me. ‘You did well, Slave.’ He murmured. ‘I’ve never had a mouth like yours.’



‘Well, then, why have you never asked it of me?’ I asked him belligerently, my voice a little hoarse what with it coming from a throat ravaged by cock.



‘Ha,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve never had you for a slave before.’



He pushed me towards his bedroom, the executive one that was always ready for him. To my knowledge, Richard never used it. Hardy always came home to me, except when he had to travel interstate, of course. But then, when he didn’t come home to me, where did he go? What warm body welcomed him? What mouth HAD he had?



All of a sudden, pictures of other women sucking him zipped through my mind making my stomach want to heave.



Unceremoniously, I was pushed face down on the bed. He kneed my legs apart, lifted my hips and entered me in one deep shove. I screamed into the coverlet. He was so long, so hard, a shock to me.



‘Richard,’ I gasped. ‘Stop.’



He stopped immediately, groaning a little. He waited for me to accommodate him and at the same time, released my wrists from the wet scarf. I heard a wet slop on the floor beside the bed. While waiting for me to get used to his size and length, he massaged my arms and gave me back their use. He arranged my legs wide apart, and grasped my elbows to pull me towards him, burying himself deeper into me.







Then he slid gently out and in again a few inches at a time. He kissed and nipped my naked shoulders, all the while, rocking inside me gently. He stirred me, inside down there. They say it’s a certain spot, a g-spot, but for me, it was my whole womb that he touched. And when he passed through my walls, little urgent whispers of delight unfurled through me. I moaned in pleasure. He rocked me slowly for a long time, his hands flat on the bed on either side of my head. I stared at one, as I swayed to the movement of his hips. I stared at the hairs at the back of his hand, and felt the desire swirl through me again. This was adultery, for sure, that I enjoyed this too much. This was not Hardy. And he as taunted me a while ago, he had said, I was not Richard’s wife. Our role-play was that of a sordid office affair. And so this was adultery.



A hand pressed down on my back, bearing me down on the bed. The gentle sliding had gone, replaced by earnest thrusts, my body bouncing to his determined fucking. His cock shoved into me, mercilessly sentitising my vaginal walls. I could not get away. He held me in a grip that ensured my legs were wide open coercing the pleasure to spiral uncontrolled.



I had already orgasmed on the table, and sometimes Hardy would give me a second one weak one in the same night, but never like this. Not like this. I would burn from this one, I knew, all my reserves obliterated from its force. The heat would not release me. Sweat broke out all over me, as I struggled against an ecstasy so devastating my resistance to it shook me to my core.



‘Richard!’ I cried as he pounded into me. It was thrilling. My pussy sucked at him. ‘Richard,’ I moaned. I writhed under his weight, the surge of pleasure gathering like a storm. Abruptly, his weight upon me disappeared as he shifted position. I shrieked at the interruption, at the loss. But his hands gripped my hips and jerked me down to grind more of his cock into me. ‘Richard!’



He was half kneeling between my knees, holding my hips flush to his, and bucked me repeatedly, my breasts grazing to and fro on the rough coverlet. I hid my face on the quilt, as he pounded my pussy, my buttocks shaking with his force of our collison. I could not face this, I did not know how to deal with this incredible rapture he forced from me. It was agonising. It was splendid.







‘I see you.’ he panted, as he manhandled my hips and hammered into me. ‘Beautiful.’ He squeezed my buttock cheeks apart, forcing me to take more of him.



‘You’re so goddamn beautiful.’ He ground out. ‘Nina.’



In, out, in, out. Again, again. He tired of that, and switched back to the first position, a hand pressing again on my back, pressing my breasts flat. This time his hand fisted in my hair, pulling at my head to turned my face sideways.



‘Don’t hide from me, Nina,’ he said, panting with his effort. I could not see him, but I felt his eyes boring into the side of my face, while he increased tempo and deepened his leverage.



‘Nina. Ah, fuck.’ That word, a word Hardy never said to me, re-moistened my eyes. I tried to hide my face into the quilt. He would not allow it, his fist tight around my hair. My walls tightened around him, my world glittering around me. And on he went, impaling me to his bed, a slave to be fucked, to be used.



Oh, the pleasure turned unbearable. I could not hold back, one more thrust, another, another. And a pain of delight exploded in my womb, and I let go, and flew. I screamed. I was right, my world ignited into flames. I could not even writhe to lessen the torture of my bliss, so tight was his hold on my body. He thrust a dozen more times while he took his pleasure of me. He ground his cock into me one last time, so deep. I came again with a cry, tears finally spilling as the waves of my orgasm overcame me completely.



I was aware of him groaning in his own ecstasy, and crashing down onto the bed beside me. I could not care who I was, who he was, as my lungs heaved for air, and the shock of the coming held me in its throes. He gathered me in his arms, his heart thudding against my arms.



I lay there replete, not moving, not wanting him to know of my crying. So we lay spooned in silence. So this was what I was missing, I thought as I felt him stroke my back and arms.

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