She Called Him Sir

by JJ Argus

  Crack Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  My eyes filled with tears, and I moaned and whimpered helplessly as my bottom flamed hotly.

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  I sobbed weakly, my face pressed into the thick sheets and covers of the bed, and he finally stopped as I gulped in air and tried to control my tears.

  I felt him undo the rope from my right wrist, felt it loosening around my ankles. He pulled it back, but then kicked my ankles apart. That dropped my weight right down on the round post, which dug into my lower belly as he wrapped the rope around one ankle, then pulled the other wide and wrapped it around that one.

  I was very quickly re-tied, this time with my legs wide apart. I felt him pulling the butt-plug out of my ass, and then, for the first time, he slid his own cock in between my hot, red, aching buttocks, and drove it slowly down into my belly.

  I groaned weakly as his cock met resistance halfway in, cried out as he slapped my bottom, and gasped as he thrust deeper again.

  “You have an incredible ass,” he said.

  I gasped as he combed my hair back together and then seized it in his fist, jerking my head up and back sharply. The pull on my hair was enough to actually lift my chest off the mattress, but couldn't raise it higher because of the pull against my wrists. As he pulled back he thrust forward, and I felt a sense of shocked heat as his cock drove deep into my ass and his bare flesh pressed firmly against my overheated bottom.

  “Lovely,” he sighed.

  I moaned and gasped as he tugged repeatedly back on my hair, working his hips in and out, fucking me, fucking my ass! I felt a wild, spinning sense of out-of-control heat as he used me so, well, manfully, so powerfully, as he dominated and rode me!

  I whimpered and moaned and gasped again and again as he thrust his cock into my ass. As I said, it wasn't something I'd done much of, and had never liked it. But this time I was being driven by something beyond my control, something I didn't understand, something which set my blood boiling and my skin crackling with sexual electricity.

  He fucked me hard, deep and fast, and it hurt, and I came, crying out again and again as he pounded his cock into me and the whole big bed shook as his hips slammed against my buttocks.

  I was slack jawed as the come slowly drained out of me along with all my energy. My eyes were slitted as he continued to pound into me, continued to jerk back on my hair. Then, as he came inside me, he dropped my hair and my face and chest dropped to the bed. He ground his hips against my bottom, and then slowly pulled himself free as he softened.

  I felt his hand untying my wrist, then jerked at a slap to my bottom.

  “Get showered and get dressed,” he ordered, heading into the bathroom.

  Groaning, I slowly straightened. I used my free hand to pull my ankles free of the rope, then pulled my other arm up and untied it. Panting weakly, I looped the rope back the way it was supposed to be stored and put it back in the dresser, then I looked around the suite for bath towels, found none,and made an angry call downstairs.

  An apologetic floor maid quickly brought up an armful. I took them from her, sent her off, and went to his en-suite, placing three big bath-towels on the towel bars, glancing uncertainly at him through the clouded glass of the shower enclosure , then retreating. I went to my room and the en-suite there, examined my still sore, red bottom in the mirror, then stepped into the shower – keeping the temperature down as I soaped up.

  Every relationship had its upside and its downside. I wasn't sure yet about how I wanted to deal with the downside of this one. I was confused about my response, about how I ought to be responding to him and his sexual... well, discipline, I guess. I sure didn't like the pain, but on the other hand, the idea of being tied up and strapped, or spanked or... or whatever, made my insides churn with dark, thrilling heat.

  And the funny thing about pain and discomfort was, as I had come to realize, that when it arouses you, the pain and discomfort don't really matter that much. I didn't really understand, or, to be honest, didn't really try very hard to understand why I found being so thoroughly dominated by him to be arousing, to be a thrill, but it was. It was like I was an actress in a dark, sexual fantasy, only this was real!

  And so was the outfit he'd brought for me to wear – in private, not in public. It consisted of a dark green thong with thin black trimming, and a green and black bustier. The latter was mainly green, silk with lace trimming, it pulled in around my waist so tightly it was hard to breath. It was held together in front by black metal clips, so the tightness couldn't really be adjusted, and it had a kind of shelf which lifted and supported my breasts, and kind of curled up around the sides to squeeze them together. But it left them entirely bare.

  Aside from those, I also wore a thick green and black lace choker. The front of it had a black metal ring as big as a silver dollar dangling from it, and its resemblance to a collar was all too obvious. I wore black satin, lace-up wrist warmers with green silk laces. They looked nice, but served no purpose I could see except to perhaps resemble some sort of wrist restraints. I wore black self-supporting silk stockings which had an inch wide band of nude material on either side, little black roses picked out on that material. And I wore very sexy black stilettos which had criss-cross laces going halfway up to my knee.

  Sir was right. He was dressing me as if I was his Barbie doll. Only Sir wasn't a nine year old girl. He was a thirty-something year old man – and a pervert!

  Then again, did I need to add that last word? Aren't all men perverts? I doubted I'd find many men who would disapprove of the outfit I was wearing! The difference between he and they was he had the audacity and arrogance – and let's face it, the money – to hire someone who would actually wear it.

  It wasn't just the money, of course. But the money was at least something I could understand. I didn't really understand the rest of the things I was feeling. Looking at myself in the outfit made my pussy throb with excitement, and made me kind of, well, preen at how hot I looked – even as I blushed at how lewdly displayed my breasts were.

  I was nervous and fluttery as I finally forced myself out of the bedroom and up the hall. I walked slowly, for while I'd worn plenty of high heels I hadn't a lot of experience with stilettos this high. With my long legs I didn't need to make myself seem even taller, and fuck-me shoes weren't usually my style.

  I walked out to find him clad in a white silk shirt and linen trousers working on his laptop. He glanced at me, then looked back at his computer.

  “Go and do your hair, please. I'd like it half up, half down.”

  Well, okay. It was his time, right? I mean, could I really object?

  I went back in and did my hair as he wanted, then returned. Again he looked up at me, then sat back, and circled his finger. I flushed a bit, then turned in place.

  “You have a great ass,” he said.

  I flushed a bit more, given he'd last told me that before sodomizing me.

  “You don't have your butt-plug in,” he said.

  “I can't wear that with a thong! I mean, not without wearing something else. It will look...”

  “Crude. You're correct.”

  He rose and gestured me to follow him into his bedroom. Both nervous and excited, I did so, and was not surprised when he went to his drawer of toys and examined them.

  “Bend over the bed.”

  Biting my tongue, I obeyed, and turned to see him with several metal balls whose purpose I hadn't really understood. They were linked together with a thin cord, and a little thicker than golf balls. Sir tugged my thong aside, and pressed a finger which was cool with something against my rosebud, then slipped it slowly inside, and pumped it in and out.

  Was this in my job description, I wondered a bit hysterically.

  The first ball pressed against me, and slowly forced my sphincter open and back before it slipped inside. The second followed, then the third, and a fourth. My pussy throbbed in response even as my rosebud closed behind the fourth ball. There was
still something outside of it, something small and flat, like a penny pressed against me. Then he tugged the thong back into place and pulled me upright.

  I gasped as his fingers plunged down the front of the thong.

  He was just so outrageous! Who did he think he was!?

  His finger slid along my naked sex.

  “Did I not tell you to wear the clip at all times?”

  “I... sorry, sir,” I gulped. “I-I didn't think... with wearing no dress and...”

  “We'll punish you for it later. For now, I have something new I'm sure you'll appreciate.”

  There hadn't been time to really examine all the 'toys' I'd dumped into the drawer. Now he pulled out another. It looked like a straightforward dildo, short, but quite thick, with an odd clip projecting up along its base.

  He bent me over again, pulled aside the thong, and then slipped his fingers, again, coated in something slick, into my pussy, pumping them in and out as I felt my breathing coming faster. Then I groaned as he began to push the dildo into me. I felt my labia pushed in and then spread – and spread – and spread as the pressure became a sharp ache, and the ache grew worse.

  “I-It's too big!” I moaned.

  He made a disrespectful sound. “This particular opening was built to allow babies through. I think it can take a lot more than this.”

  And then it did, and I groaned as it slid into me, inch after inch, spreading open the narrow tube of my sex as it pushed up within me. The dildo disappeared completely inside me and I felt the lips of my sex close – mostly. The clip thing pushed up over the top of my sex on the outside much like the little vibrator clip had. But it consisted of two two inch long thin bars of latex which, rather than pressing down against my clit, bracketed it between them, pressing down on the flesh so as to sort of push my clit out a bit.

  At the top of the bar was a crossbar, and dangling from that was a tiny spiked ball which rested directly against my clit.

  He pulled my thong back into place, and then straightened me again. I felt his hands sliding around my waist, then up to cup my breasts as his lips brushed the back of my neck.

  “You smell as gorgeous as you look,” he sighed, giving my nipples a little pinch.

  He eased back with a smile and I turned around uncertainly.

  “I've set up your laptop at the desk over there,” he said, pointing across the room at a small, antique desk. “I've sent you a series of instructions which you're more than capable of handling on your own. If you have any questions just ask.”

  He reached out and caught my stiff nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching them a little, rubbing and rolling them between the pads of his fingertips.

  “I have every confidence in you, Fire,” he said.

  “Th-thanks you, sir!” I squeaked as he pinched a little harder, then sort of stretched my nipples up and out before releasing them.

  He grinned and sat down again.

  A bit dazed, I walked across the floor and sat down before the other laptop. It didn't take long to realize that almost any movement I made had the little spiked ball to grind against my clit, and the balls in my bottom move and roll against each other. That, and the thick dildo in my pussy quickly had me wet, but I tried to concentrate on his instructions regardless.

  The next two hours were oddly like being a secretary. I typed up instructions, printed things up and carried them over to him, looked over scores of emails sent to him and directed them into various folders for his attention, took several phone calls for him, and also got him coffee and juice.

  Of course, dressed as I was, and with those, uhm, things he'd added, even doing such mundane office type work had me squirming with desire and heat the entire time.

  “Print that up for me, would you, beautiful?” he said.

  I printed up a graph on the portable printer, rose and carried it over to him, feeling the heat within me as the spiked ball rubbed, and the silver balls shifted, and my bare nipples tingled.

  He looked up at me from the sofa.

  “I don't like to cock my head back, even to see something as gorgeous as you,” he said in a reasonable tone. “How about whenever you bring me something, you get down on your knees to present it to me.”

  My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn't think of a reason to say no, and to be honest, the idea made my pussy throb and squeeze down around the dildo for some reason.

  I sank to my knees beside where he was working, and held the papers up to him. He took them with a nod, and ran a hand over my bare breasts.

  “Green and black both look very good on you, Fire,” he said.

  “Th-thank you, sir,” I gulped as he caught at my nipples and rolled them between his fingers.

  “Have I mentioned how lovely these nipples are? Just the right length and width and shape. You're truly a marvel,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir,” I gasped.

  He released my nipples, and I got up shakily and returned to my seat.

  Every time I brought something over to him I had to kneel, and every time I knelt he played with my nipples or caressed my breasts! It didn't take very long before I was actually looking for reasons to get up and walk across to him. Not only did that make things shift around in a deliciously wicked, thrilling way, but it let me see his eyes on me, and let me feel the raw, carnal pleasure as I knelt before him and he idly pinched and tugged and caressed my nipples.

  My nipples began to tingle and throb as hotly as my pussy, perhaps more so. They stung and burned whenever he pinched and twisted them, but afterward it was as though they were glowing for long, long minutes, longing to be touched.

  I passed him a phone call, and he took it, then hung up.

  “A gentleman will be coming up. Let him in when the door rings,” he said casually.

  I turned to look at him, then got up. “I'll go and change,” I said.

  “Stop.”

  I stopped and turned to look at him.

  “I didn't tell you to change.”

  Chapter Six

  I felt heat and tension grip me.

  “But... I can't... answer the door dressed... like this!” I gasped.

  “Why not? You've sunbathed nude at the beach a number of times, you said. You're far more covered up now than you were then.”

  “That was at the beach!” I blurted.

  “What difference does that make? You weren't ashamed of men seeing your naked body. Why should you be ashamed now?”

  “But he'll be upset!”

  He laughed. “Oh I rather doubt that. If he is then he's gay.”

  “Arabs are really religious! They don't want their women even showing their faces!”

  “Yes, but you're not one of their women. You're mine. And Mr. El Habbib is quite desperate to get me to invest in a new resort. He won't object.”

  “But sir!”

  “I also think you'll prove something of a distraction. That could be quite helpful as we negotiate terms.

  “But – .”

  “It doesn't matter who else approves of the way you look or dress or act, Fire. It only matters that I approve,” he said firmly.

  I don't think I would have agreed had my mind not been thoroughly soaked in lust and arousal for such a time. Being that hot, it's like being stoned or drunk. It affects your ability to reason.

  My stomach churned, and my chest was tight, and I felt breathless as I went to the door. I tried to reason with myself that really all I was doing was baring my breasts, and on the Riviera I'd done that numerous times without embarrassment. I'd even done it at a few wild club parties. But this was just... different.

  But at the same time it was like, I don't know, like the normal rules of etiquette and sexual behavior and restraint and modesty didn't apply to me any more. It was like I was in a different world, far from anyone I knew who might judge me except, well, him, and he was setting different rules. Also, I wasn't Riley any more, I was “Fire”, and Fire was a hot, sexy, slutty, wild sexual animal of a g
irl!

  My face flushed red even before I opened the door.

  A slim, balding, middle aged Arabic man stood there in a dark suit.

  “Good afternoon,” he started to say, then froze.

  I dropped my eyes and struggled to find something to say.

  “May I help you, sir?” I gulped, eyes down.

  “Ah, er, that is, I uhm, was to see Mr – .”

  “Ah, there you are, Achmed,” Sir said, coming up behind us. “I see you've met Fire. Lovely girl, is she not?”

  “Ahm, yes, er, yes, certainly!” the man gulped.

  Sir led him back to the front room.

  “Can she get you anything?”

  “Some ahm, Do you have some mango juice?”

  “Of course. Fire,” he said, as they sat down.

  Still blushing furiously, I walked across to the bar. I found the juice, poured it into a glass, and then, blushing again, returned to where they sat. I felt a rush of heat as he watched me, as I bent to hand him the drink, but with the squirming embarrassment came a strange flood of raw heat that had more to do with outrageous arousal than anything else.

  “Wait,” Sir said sternly. “Fire, I told you that men don't like to cock their heads up and back to look up at women. Give Mr. El Habbib his drink properly.”

  I felt breathless, even a bit light-headed, but I sank to my knees and held the drink out.

  El Habbib's hands shook a bit as he took it from me, his eyes wide and staring at my breasts, at my stiff nipples.

  “She's new to the position as my personal assistant, you see,” Sir said. “But she's a very bright girl. She's learning quickly.”

  “Th-that's er, uhm, good,” El Habbib said, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing his forehead.

  “Get your notebook, Fire, and take a seat,” he said, indicating the chair at right angles to them.

  “Yes, sir,” I said in a faintly choked voice.

  I sat down with notebook in hand, as he and El Habbib began to discuss the amount of money Sir would invest in the resort, the conditions, and the return and time-line. If I could forget for a single moment that I was bare chested it might have been an interesting conversation to overhear. But every few seconds his eyes darted to my breasts, and reminded me.