Jeremy seated himself, sipping from his excellent bottle of Valonte ’67. It was his wine, and he did not intend to share it. Sheila would drink water.
She returned to him a few minutes later, her face splashed free of the tears, her hair combed loosely about her shoulders.
“Let me see.” He made her stand in front of him. “Hands at your sides, back straight, turn around for me.”
Sheila was self-conscious about people seeing her behave so submissively. It would be interesting, one day soon, to see how she handled being made to suck off a roomful of strange men, shuffling on her knees from cock to cock, nothing to cover her precious modesty but a collar, leash and leather cuffs.
“That’s fine, Sheila. Good girl.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone.”
He could see her chest rising and falling. He was taking control of her, and she was enjoying it. Soon she would be completely dependant upon his praise. Like a dog, she would respond to his littlest attentions and cringe in the face of his displeasure.
“You may sit down, Sheila.” He signaled for one of the waiter’s assistants.
Sheila sat demurely, clearly stunned. The next move was his, and the one after that, as long as he wished.
“I’ve ordered you the fish Florentine, Sheila. You do like spinach?”
“Yes, Sir,” she smiled weakly. “Thank you, Sir.”
“I’ve been curious,” he said as the antipasto arrived, “about your personal life.”
“Oh?” She fought to keep her composure.
“Yes, Sheila,” he portioned out a small bit of the ham and salami onto her plate, treating her completely as a child. “I’ve been wondering, have you a boyfriend or any lovers at present?”
“No, Sir.”
“Not even that young man from accounting who manages to find so many excuses to come to your desk? What’s his name, Joey?”
“It’s Johnny, Sir, and no, we’re just friends.”
He could tell from the haste of her answer that there was more to the story. “He hasn’t attempted to date you, then?”
“Well...actually, he has.”
“And you’ve refused? Why?”
She glared at her plate. “I...I just haven’t wanted to.”
“Sheila, it’s disrespectful not to make eye contact with a superior.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Please repeat your answer in an appropriate fashion.”
“I haven’t wanted to date Johnny, Sir,” she repeated, her eyes fixed on his, moist again.
“Because you don’t find him attractive?” he pressed.
“I—I do.”
“You’re stuttering, Sheila. That’s a sloppy habit in a female.”
Her lips were quivering. “I do find him attractive, Sir. Just not as a man to date.”
“And what do you look for in a dating partner?”
He had her squirming now. A butterfly pinned down on a cork board. “I look for someone...older...and...”
“And what?”
“Stronger,” she said softly.
“What did you say?”
“I look for a stronger man, Sir.”
“Stronger than Johnny?” Stone played devil’s advocate. “He’s quite an athlete, though, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Sir, but there are other ways to be strong.”
“I don’t follow,” he feigned ignorance.
“You know, forceful.” She was hedging, trying not to have to say the words. The poor thing had no idea how merciless he could be and how thorough.
“You wished to be raped, Sheila? Is that your fantasy?”
Her eyes darted towards the wall, back down to her plate, anywhere they could go to escape.
“Eye contact,” he chastised.
She subjected herself once more to his calm, appraising expression. “No, Sir, that isn’t it,” she said. “I don’t want to be assaulted; I just like it...that is to say, I enjoy it when the man is in charge.”
“Sexually speaking, you mean?”
“Y—yes, Sir. I mean yes, Sir,” she corrected the stutter.
“What about in other ways?”
“Other ways, Sir?”
“Do you like when the man is in charge in other ways?”
Sheila swallowed.
“When he tells you what to do, for example, when he makes the plans or even chooses clothes for you to wear.”
She squirmed a little on the seat.
“Does that arouse you, Sheila?”
Sheila sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Such a darling little thing. He wanted to whip her and kiss her.
“Sir, it’s a little hard to talk about...”
“I’m your boss, Sheila, your superior. You must share everything with me.”
“It arouses me,” she shivered. “Yes.”
“You see,” he smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No, Sir.”
He laughed. “You’re lying. I’ll let that go...this time.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said softly. The ominous undertone of his words did not appear to escape her. She had been given notice. Lack of honesty would have consequences in the future.
The waiter’s assistant was back to remove the untouched antipasto. The next course was a rich cream of asparagus soup.
“You will wait to eat,” he told her as the bowl was set in front of her.
“Yes, Sir.” She watched him sip from his own bowl.
“You’re very much my inferior, aren’t you,” he commented.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I have six degrees; I am accomplished in several martial arts; I speak four languages; and I am rich, with an IQ in excess of 160. Can you come close to matching that?”
“No, Sir.”
“Your kind exists to serve me, Sheila.” He drank more of his wine. “Your job is to be as pleasing as possible.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was a rasp. For a woman like her, this sort of discussion was foreplay.
“In what ways do you suppose a person such as yourself might be pleasing to a man like me?” he queried.
“I can...do a good job at work,” she said deliberately, trying not to stutter.
“Yes, we take that for granted. But you’re a female, Sheila, with a well-proportioned body. Might that not also create opportunities for my visual pleasure?”
She blinked, putty in his hands.
“I do, you know, find pleasure in observing your body. You’re a beautiful young woman.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.
“You may have some of your soup now, Sheila. Please eat neatly. I don’t want stains on the dress.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He allowed her a few spoonfuls. “That’s enough. We want to be sure and maintain your figure, don’t we?”
She put the spoon down.
“You’re shaking, Sheila.”
“I’m...nervous, Sir.”
“Are you afraid of displeasing me?”
She shook her head yes.
“That’s an appropriate attitude, Sheila. See that it is maintained.”
“Yes, Mr. Stone.” She sat back as the soup dishes were removed, hers still nearly full. He noted her tight nipples protruding through the thin material of the bra and dress.
“I’d like to know your sexual history, Sheila.”
“Sir...”
He caused his voice to tighten, almost immeasurably. “Is there a problem?”
“No, Sir,” she responded emphatically. “I want to cooperate.”
“Good.”
Her training had already begun. Without realizing it, she was altering her behavior to suit his tone of voice. She would learn to read his eyes and hands just as well. Like an eager pet, she would come to subsume her entire existence within his. His pleasure would be the center of her being, his displeasure her worst agony. She would take pain for him, humiliation. She would behave as a common slut and enjoy it.
“Tell me when you lost your
virginity.”
“I was eighteen, Sir. I had just taken a job as a waitress, after my uncle cheated me of my inheritance.”
“Who was the man? How did it take place?”
“He was the restaurant manager. He...” Sheila broke two rules, not finishing her sentence and looking down at the tablecloth.
“Do you require punishment?” he said sharply.
She shook her head ‘no’, though her eyes were dreamy caverns of ‘yes.’ “He took me back to his dingy office, the first night, after my shift. He made me give him all my tips. He told me I worked for him now, and that I would have to pay him every night with money and with sex, too. The sex was to make up for when I didn’t have enough money, and I never did as far as he was concerned.”
“He felt up my tits, said they were nice, and that we were going to get along just fine. I had to unzip his pants and take out his cock. I was so scared, I peed my panties. He made me take them off and told me if I did that ever again, he would wad them up in my mouth as a gag.
“I started crying, because I had never imagined such a thing. Only a year earlier, I had been a wealthy heiress. Then my parents were killed in a plane crash. My dad was flying them over the Canadian Rockies. Search parties were out for weeks before they finally gave up. My mother’s brother was the closest relative, and he became my guardian. He had a lawyer draw up some papers that I signed, not realizing I was giving the man everything. The day I turned eighteen, I learned I had nothing. That was the same day I discovered my uncle had fled national jurisdiction.”
Interesting. So the woman came from breeding. That explained her underlying gentility. Jeremy considered it a bonus. She might well prove to be more vulnerable than the average girl to humiliation.
“His cock was incredibly large and gnarled,” she continued her story. “I nearly fainted at the feel of it throbbing in my hand. He asked me if I liked it, and he said I had better because he was going to be sticking it up inside of me. I begged him not to, telling him I would do anything.”
“He just laughed, saying that I had to do anything anyway. He had me lie down on his couch, which was so filthy I nearly threw up. He kept telling me to relax and learn to enjoy it. He said females were designed to be turned on by dominating men. To prove his point, he made sure to...to arouse me step by step.”
“By the time he put his cock inside me, I was wet, my pussy hungry for the new experience. I cried for him to stop, but my body was saying go. He laughed, calling me a natural slut. I bled a little, and then he ejaculated inside me. He gave me a dollar back from my tips and told me to beat it.”
“The next night, he came to me while I was working and told me I was to meet him again in his office after my shift. This time he was sitting behind his desk, adding up receipts. He told me to lock the door, take off all my clothes, crawl over and suck his cock.”
“He paid no attention to me, even though I was sobbing. He just let me strip, get down on all fours and shuffle across his stinking, dirty carpet. He didn’t even have the decency to push out his chair. I had to squeeze behind his desk, crouching and sucking his vile cock in my mouth, filling it with a wretched taste, making me gag.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. It was a fascinating story. But it could not possibly be Sheila’s. “And how long did this go on?”
“For months, Sir. He used me every night after that, and he even—“
“You’re lying,” he interrupted, his voice matter-of-fact.
Sheila’s mouth gaped.
“Those are things you fantasized,” he elaborated. “But they never happened, did they?”
She bit her lip, like a guilty little girl. “No, Sir.”
“Tell me why you lied,” he instructed. “And mind you, don’t compound your crime with another.”
“I didn’t want you to know I was a virgin, Sir.”
“Why not?”
“I’m ashamed of it.”
He laughed. “Ashamed of being a virgin? Has the world changed so much?”
“Sir, my parents really did die,” she offered appeasingly. “And I was robbed of my inheritance. I have suffered poverty, loss of station. Men have tried to exploit me, but somehow I stayed aloof.”
“The story of the restaurant manager, is that something you wish had happened?”
“The manager was a revolting man. He looked at me. I masturbated, thinking of how dirty he made me feel. I imagined his hands on me. I imagined I was his...his property.”
“Do you fantasize about Johnny?”
“No, Sir.”
“What about me?”
The moment of truth had arrived. There was nowhere for her to escape. He had done his preparatory work too well. “Yes, Mr. Stone...I fantasize about you.”
“That’s a good girl for telling the truth.” He held the glass of wine across the table. “You may have a sip for a reward.”
He made her lean forward, exposing her magnificent bosom. She put her lips to the glass, delicate, sipping.
“Did you like your reward?” he asked when she returned to the upright position.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What do you say, Sheila?” he kept his tone pleasant, but condescending.
“Thank you, Sir,” her voice cracked.
“You lied to me,” he reminded.
“Yes, Sir,” she acknowledged her shame.
“That was being a bad girl, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr. Stone.”
He smiled, watching her squeeze her legs, struggling to contain her sexual arousal. This was the true mark of the submissive woman. Once full slavery was achieved, her behavior would become downright obscene, and quite completely out of her control.
“We must decide what to do about this. If you were a male employee, Sheila, I would fire you for dishonesty. But you are female and a vastly inferior one at that. Quite honestly, you aren’t worth terminating. Your behavior, one way or the other, could never affect me that much.”
Jeremy frowned, interrupting his speech long enough to snap his fingers. “Sheila, separate your thighs. You are not to play with yourself in my presence.”
“But, Sir,” she protested, “I wasn’t—“
“Silence, girl. If I wish to hear from you, I will ask. Is that clear?”
“Yes...yes, Mr. Stone.”
“You’ve been a good employee,” he stressed, “and I know you want to keep on that way, don’t you?”
A tear dropped from her eye to the tablecloth. “Yes, I want to be good, Sir.”
“Up till tonight,” he lamented, “you were perfect. Such a shame. But you’ll be only too happy to take your correction to even the score, won’t you?”
Her body showed the conflict in her. The longing, the desire, the fear. “Yes, Mr. Stone.”
“Your correction must be of the sort suitable for a female, Sheila. Can you guess what that might be?”
She shook her head no.
“Don’t play games with me,” he said crossly. “You’re an intelligent girl. You have reasoning powers. Not to mention a rather vivid imagination. What is it that happens in your fantasies of submitting to me? Do you ever require punishments?”
Her head moved up and down
“Well, then,” he smiled. “The matter is quite simple. Tell me, how do I punish you in your private dreams?”
She mouthed the words, barely audible.
“Speak up, girl.”
“With your belt,” she pronounced, mortified. “And...your hand.”
“On your bottom?” he queried, as though completely ignorant of where such contact might be made.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I see. And is your bottom clothed or bared in your fantasies?”
“Mostly bared.” The confession cut through the air. Electric.
Jeremy paused, waiting for the servers to arrive with the main dishes, veal for him and fish for her. “And what are these offenses against me in your fantasies?” he inquired in the men’s presence.
&n
bsp; Sheila looked uneasily at her audience.
“I asked you a question,” he declared, determined to shatter her pride.
“Sometimes I’m your wife,” she shared, “and I make dinner wrong or don’t do my chores. Other times, I’m your secretary, like now, but I make mistakes. And I have to answer for them.”
The white coated servers were stealing glances at the fabulous redhead. Their lust for her was barely concealed. Jeremy noticed they were lingering over setting out the plates, just a little too long. He opted to give them a vicarious thrill at the girl’s expense.
“With spankings and whippings,” he reiterated.
“Yes,” she said hotly.
“And do these punishments lead to anything sexual, as you imagine them?”
“Yes,” she said again.
“What things specifically?” The servers were leaving. “Stay,” he told them.
“I’m made to submit,” she replied. “I’m taken by you.”
“Are you brought to orgasm?”
“I have to come,” she rasped, her eyes glassy. “You don’t give me any choice.”
“Does anything else occur?”
“Yes, Sir.” She was trance-like now, deep in the hypnosis of the shamed, surrendered woman, the vicariously violated slut. “You tell me to take you in my mouth.”
“And do you?”
“I have to, Sir. If I don’t, you’ll punish me all over again.”
“What about in real life,” he coaxed. “Do the fantasies make you do things to yourself?”
“I play with myself, Sir.”
“To climax?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. It’s the only way I can come.”
“Sheila,” he focused on her more intently. “This next question is very important. Do you think you can answer correctly?”
“I’ll try, Sir.”
“Good. I need you to say if you deserve punishment or not. I need you to tell these men.”
Sheila looked as if she might fall right off the chair.
“Tell them,” he coaxed. “Tell them what you need done to your bare ass.”
Her voice was a low hiss, ghost-like, hot as steam. She was panting lightly, her lips weak and barely able to form the syllables. “I need to be spanked,” she told the lined-up servers, all at attention, “and whipped.”
“With my belt,” he clarified. “On your naked ass.”
Punish Me, Please Page 3
