“I can’t wait to hear you ask ‘Who’s your daddy?’ while I’m over your knee.”
“That is a distinct possibility, given your mouth.”
“Do you know you have a hard-on?”
“Yes. I’m not ready to do anything about it yet.”
“And when you are?”
“You’ll be the first to know.” Marc came closer, standing directly in front of her, his erection only inches from her face. “There are two more things we need to discuss.”
“Which are?”
“Protection and a safe word.”
“What? Do you mean birth control?”
“Yes, and being tested. I’ve been recently tested and am clean. Are you?”
“I had my insurance physical last month. My blood work came back normal. I’m also still on the pill, so that’s covered.” Patricia stood. Marc did not move. She could feel his cock against her leg. “What’s a safe word?”
“It’s a word you use to stop the action if it is too much. We agree on the word and that you will only use it if there is a serious problem. You will let me know if there is too much pain or discomfort, or if I inadvertently injure you.”
“Christ, what are you thinking of doing, resurrecting the Marquis de Sade?”
“Have you dreamed about him yet?”
“No, thank God.” Marc shifted slightly and pressed his erection deeper into her thigh. The tingling in Patricia’s clitoris intensified. “What is the word?”
“There are three. Red is stop the scene. Yellow is stop doing that, but don’t stop the scene. Green is I’m fine. If I ask you what your color is to check on you, you will respond with one of those three choices. Do you understand?”
“I have a master’s in business management and finance. I think I can remember red, yellow, and green.”
“When a scene is happening, your financial prowess will not help you. Red or yellow will.”
“How do you know all of this? You’re talking like a regular player at a BDSM club.”
“I didn’t agree to this until I had done the proper research. Phil suggested I do some exploring several weeks ago.”
“This is news. He only mentioned it to me last week.”
“He’s a smart man.” Marc abruptly turned, went back to his chair, and sat down. He calmly asked, “Shall we?”
Slightly disoriented by his unexpected movement, Patricia remained standing. “Shall we what?”
“Get started?”
“You’re in charge, so I’ve been told.”
“Then you won’t mind taking off everything underneath your skirt.”
Patricia thought he might be bullshitting her. But his demeanor said otherwise. He sat in the chair, his erect cock clearly outlined inside his trousers. He watched her closely, studying her reaction to his request. She understood that what she did now would mean her staying or leaving.
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what I do.” She kicked off her shoes. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Do you have to go?”
“No. I want to do what you asked me to do, take off everything under my skirt.”
“You’ll do it here, in plain sight.”
“What do you want, a striptease?”
“For now, just take off your underclothes.”
Patricia pulled up her tight skirt. The business suit allowed her no modesty. She had to pull the skirt up around her waist to hook her fingers in the waistband of her panties and panty hose. Balancing herself against the sofa, she lowered them to mid thigh, stopping to pull her skirt back down before taking them off.
Marc reached behind the chair and picked up a bag. “Here. Put these on.”
Patricia took the bag. Her curiosity definitely piqued, she opened the package. “These are lace thigh highs.”
“That’s what they are. When you come here, you are to wear this style of hose only, unless I tell you I would prefer a garter belt. Oh yes, and no panties.”
“I suppose you want me to wear these to work?”
“That is optional, but if you would, it would please me.”
Patricia sat down on the sofa to put on the stockings, only realizing after the fact how badly her sweaty skin would stick. When she pulled up the stocking, her thigh made an obnoxious sucking sound breaking free of the leather. She tried to hide her embarrassment. “Could you cover this sofa with something, so I don’t stick?”
Marc simply said, “No.”
She already knew not to argue. So, she stood, smoothed her skirt down the backs of her legs, and sat back down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do I have to say, ‘Daddy, may I sit down?’”
“Not yet.” His smirk made her squirm. “But I think you do have to take off that jacket and open a few more buttons on your blouse.”
He had her off balance and obviously knew it. Feeling more flustered than she expected to be, she took off her suit jacket and unbuttoned two more buttons.
“Do another one. I want to see some cleavage.”
She opened the next button, and saw Marc staring at her breasts. Patricia realized she was nearly as turned on as she had been that morning waking from her dream. “Should I open my bra?”
“Do you want me to see your breasts?”
Patricia flushed as she answered. “Yes.”
“That pleases me, Tricia. Open your bra.”
She unclasped her bra and tucked the cups inside her blouse. When she sat back, her breasts were almost completely exposed.
Marc came over to the sofa and sat next to her. “You are doing very well, Tricia. How do you feel?”
“Vulnerable, mostly, and nervous.”
“That’s good. Your defenses are coming down.” Marc leaned over and kissed her neck. Patricia shivered. “What is your color?”
“Green.”
“Good. Open your blouse the rest of the way and ask me nicely to squeeze your tits.”
Patricia could hear Marc’s breath change as she undid her blouse and pulled it wide open. “If it pleases you, I would like you to squeeze my tits.”
“Very good! Your invitation is appreciated.” He took his time squeezing and caressing each breast, all the while watching her reaction to his touch. When he unexpectedly pinched her nipples, she moaned. He did not lessen the pressure, and in fact, pinched harder. “Do you like that, Tricia?”
She squirmed under his hand. “God, yes! I like it.”
“Then perhaps you will like these.” Marc reached into his coat pocket and pulled out what looked to be a silver necklace. “These are nipple clamps on a chain. This part goes around your neck.” He clasped the silver links around her neck. The clamps dangled down her chest, hanging on two long chains. Without asking her permission, he screwed the clamps onto her nipples, tightening them until she winced.
“Yellow!” She didn’t want them any tighter. He immediately stopped.
“You’re catching on, my dear. That also pleases me. Now, lean forward.” When she did, Marc removed her blouse and her bra. She now wore only the thigh highs and her skirt, and the nipple clamps.
The sensation piercing her chest made her breath catch, but it didn’t hurt. “Marc, help me to understand what is happening.”
“We are playing, Tricia. Right now, you are on the brink of eroticizing pain. This is what they mean when they say, it hurts so good.”
“Christ, it does.”
“Are you ready for more?”
“Yes!”
“Then take off your skirt and bend over the back of that chair.” Without hesitation, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. With only the nipple clamps and thigh highs on, she felt sexier than she ever had before. Marc further instructed her. “Bend over and spread your legs wide apart.”
She did as he told her and waited. The excruciating anticipation of what would happen now had her on fire. Marc stood in front of the chair, in full view. He opened his trousers and exposed his cock. She could see him leaking, the pre-cum shining on the head of his pen
is.
As she watched him, her knees turned to jelly. He pulled his belt out of his pants and doubled it over. “I thought you said we were starting slow.”
“Gorgeous, this is slow compared to where we’re going.”
Patricia dug her fingers into the back of the chair, bracing herself for what she expected him to do. She yelped with surprise when the first stroke of the belt did not connect with her ass, but instead, landed between her legs. As the second stroke hit, again between her legs, she heard Marc say, “This lends new dimension to the term pussy-whipped, wouldn’t you say? Having a man do it to you is long overdue!”
Spreading her legs wider, she tried to position herself so the belt would connect directly with her clitoris. Marc noticed. “So, you like how this feels. Turn around, so I can see those pretty tits bounce when you come for me.”
She turned around and pressed her ass into the leather, so the chair would support her. Before she could brace herself, Marc again connected with her labia, the sting moving through her clitoris like an electric shock. Her knees started to buckle. “Tricia, stand up and spread your legs wide!” The command in Marc’s voice made her jump to attention. “We aren’t stopping until you come.” He swung the belt again.
Patricia could hardly breathe, the intense sensation overwhelming her. She managed to rasp out, “Faster, I need it to be faster.”
Like the piston of a revved-up engine, Marc swung the belt, the strokes coming one on top of the other. With explosive force, Patricia’s orgasm hit, her entire body convulsing with the spasms. Marc did not slow down, not one bit. The belt bit into her labia, sending shock waves through her pelvis. For what seemed to be an eternity, her consciousness swam in sensation, until finally, the strokes slowed, and then stopped.
Before she had caught her breath, she felt Marc’s hands on her shoulders, pushing her down to a kneeling position. “Now, Patricia, you may thank me with the best blow job you have ever given, and you will swallow every drop.”
She willingly did as she was told.
2
Patricia checked her watch. If she left her office in the next five minutes, she would have just enough time to run to the ladies’ room and change her hose before hailing a cab downtown. Looking at the stack of files on her desk, she hesitated. Before last night, she would have stayed as long as necessary to finish her work. But Marc made it clear that missing a session without twenty-four hours’ notice would terminate the agreement. She knew he meant it.
After organizing the folders so she could go through them quickly in the morning, Patricia went to put on the thigh highs. It would be easier to wear them all day and not have to change, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, at least not yet. Marc had given her a pair of sheer black hose with lace tops to wear. She didn’t realize until she took them out of the package that they had seams up the back. With these stockings, no panties, a black suit and black pumps, she felt like Bettie Page.
The elevator bell dinged as she came out of the ladies’ room. She ran to catch it and bumped into another senior partner when she jumped inside.
“Oh, Earl, I’m sorry!”
“That’s all right, Patricia. You’re in a hurry!”
“I have an appointment. I don’t want to be late.”
“Must be important.”
“It is.”
“New client?”
“No, this is personal.”
“So, that’s why you put those black stockings on. I wondered about that.”
Surprised he even noticed, Patricia suddenly remembered she didn’t have any panties on. Trying to retain her professional composure in spite of feeling flustered, she changed the subject. “When do you need those quarterly reports?”
“By the end of the week.” The elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened.
“I’ll have them ready.” Grateful for the opportunity to escape her partner’s scrutiny, she added, “Have a good evening.”
He smiled and winked. “You, too.” Earl held the elevator door for her, and then followed her into the lobby. As she hurried toward the door, she wondered if he noticed the seams on her stockings.
The cab dropped her at Third Street and Avenue B. She knew the building now and hurried toward the door. Remembering her BlackBerry, she checked her messages and then turned if off before she rang the bell.
“Marc? I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything, just buzzed her in.
Relieved that she had arrived several minutes before the designated time, she knocked on the door. When he opened the door, she almost laughed. “What the fuck do you have on?”
“Come in, Patricia.” He led her into the room. “Welcome to biker night.”
She turned around and looked at him again. As if the black leather pants and boots weren’t enough, he had on an open leather vest and nothing else. “Where did you park your Harley?”
With crassness she had never seen in him, he grabbed his crotch. “Right here, baby. And if you’re lucky, you may get to ride it later.”
What she saw on the sofa squelched her urge to laugh. A pair of low cut leather shorts with lace up sides lay beside a black vinyl silver studded crop top that had barely enough material to cover her breasts.
“I see you wore the stockings. Take off the skirt. I want to make sure there are no panties.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No, sweetheart. My mind is right where it needs to be. Now, take off the skirt.”
Patricia tossed her purse on the chair, not even giving her BlackBerry a second thought. Marc picked it up and stashed it in the closet. When he came back, he dropped a set of leather lace-up cuffs onto the sofa with the other clothes. “I almost forgot these. Accessories are important.”
Framed in the leather vest, his chest caught her attention. She followed the hairline from his sternum to his navel, stopping when she saw his erection encased in his leather pants. “Not wasting any time, are you?” She continued to stare at his pants as she unzipped her skirt.
“Not with this boner waiting! C’mon baby, show me some pussy.”
Hearing Marc use such language while blatantly leering at her made her uncomfortable, but it also did something else. It made her feel deliciously sleazy. Her skirt fell to the floor and she kicked it to the side. “You see, no panties. I did as you asked.”
“Very good! Is your pussy wet yet?” Patricia didn’t answer, embarrassed that she did indeed itch as her juice ran. “What’s the matter, baby, cat got your tongue?” Marc grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. He forcefully kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth while simultaneously squeezing her pussy. Patricia instinctively tried to break free, but her hair pulled in his fist and she stopped.
He continued to kiss her as he violated her cunt with his fingers, ramming them into her vagina. He pulled them out and rammed her again, fucking her with his hand. Without releasing her hair, he lifted his head, his hot breath blowing in her face as he spoke. “I’ll ask you again, is your pussy wet yet?”
“You motherfucker, yes my pussy is wet. It has been all goddamn day!”
“See how easy it is to take on a character. You are now a biker babe.” In one continuous motion he released her hair and her pussy, and shoved her backward onto the sofa. The leather surface stung her bare ass. “Now, put on the fucking clothes.”
Patricia glared at him as she took off the rest of her suit. “This isn’t one of my dreams!”
“No, but it’s one of mine. At least it used to be. I resurrected it just for you.”
“How magnanimous and thoughtful!” She picked up the shorts, trying to calm herself down enough to figure out how they worked. She glanced up at Marc, who still stood directly in front of her. He stood there, rubbing his cock while watching her. “You fucking pervert, you’re masturbating in front of me!”
Marc’s laughter rang though the loft. “Christ, that’s rich! You’re calling me a pervert? I remind you, you are stark
naked, except for a pair of black stockings. What man wouldn’t jerk off watching you right now?”
Now royally pissed off, Patricia struggled with the laces on the sides of the shorts. They finally loosened enough for her to pull them on. Then she had to redo them. Marc interrupted. “Make sure you tie them in pretty little bows, so when the time comes, I can untie them without having to rip them off of you.”
Not caring that she stood there topless, Patricia laced up the shorts, being careful not to knot them. Then she put on the top, which only had one hook to hold it shut. Both the shorts and the top fit her like a second skin, the black vinyl top barely covering her tits. She put on the wrist cuffs, which she noticed had small metal rings attached. “I can’t lace these up myself. It is impossible to do it one-handed.”
Marc took her arm and managed the laces for her. “What’s your color, Tricia?”
She knew he had just given her the opportunity to walk away. But she didn’t want to leave. She honestly answered, “Green.”
“Good. Then we will continue.” He went to the closet and took out a pair of ankle-high black boots with stiletto heels. “See if these fit. They told me these run small, so I got an eight wide.”
Patricia sat down and put them on. When she stood, she wobbled a bit, not being used to the ultra-high heels, but the boots didn’t pinch. “They seem fine. Now what?”
“Now we go out to a leather bar down the street.”
“Now wait a damn minute! I never agreed to go out like this!”
“Are you calling yellow?”
Patricia looked down at her boots. She had seen women wearing these on the street, but never thought she could pull it off. “May I look at myself in a mirror before I decide?”
“There’s a mirror on the inside of the bathroom door.”
Patricia went into the bathroom and closed the door. When she looked at herself, she nearly fainted. The image staring back couldn’t possibly be hers. Marc had tousled her hair when he grabbed her, giving it a just-got-out-of-bed look. The sexy leather costume made her look like she had stepped out of a porn magazine for bikers. She had on just enough clothing to avoid being arrested for indecency.
Bound to Ecstasy Page 10
