Executive Enslavement

by Bruce McLachlan

  The woman broke into a soft laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” hissed Samantha.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met such a terrible liar,” explained the woman.

  “Did you want my tongue for talking or licking?” growled Samantha with subdued fury. She used the crass words in the hope of causing offence in the preened executive standing before her.

  “Neither,” the woman said without any change in her amused expression. She then drifted forward to place her lips to Samantha’s. The client’s hands swung around Samantha’s hips to take hold of each buttock. Holding the pert cheeks, she used them as the means to haul Samantha against her.

  Closing her eyes, Samantha responded with diligent enthusiasm. She let her tongue glide against her partner’s deft organ. She flitted upon her tip and circled the client’s mouth as her own arms reached out to fondle and continue to try to stimulate the woman.

  The client snatched her wrists and broke away from the kiss as though it had somehow caused offence.

  “What’s the matter?” quizzed Samantha. She was worried that she was proving a lousy and bumbling partner.

  “Not here. This way,” she replied.

  Moving aside, the woman opened a door to expose a guest bedroom. It seemed small for this abode but it was massive in comparison to Samantha’s own home and usual surroundings.

  Samantha stepped in and looked around. She surveyed the double bed to the right and the wall-spanning wardrobe opposite it. The mirrored doors reflected the contents of the chamber and gave it the illusion of being even bigger. A trunk lay at the foot of the bed, and the polished oak box was fitted with several unfastened latches.

  The varnished boards of the floor were polished to a degree that made them look like sepia ice and an oval rug occupied much of the open area. When the overhead light was flicked on, Samantha caught a clearer sight of something that had been hanging above the bed. In the gloom and at first glance she had thought it was a shadow. Now she could see that a large eyelet had been screwed into the ceiling and it draped a coil of rope that left a set of leather shackles dangling in the air.

  “I don’t do bondage,” she replied swiftly as she turned around to look at the woman.

  The client merely smiled and wandered around behind Samantha. The woman’s eyes bore into her with rigid potency, freezing her like a rabbit in headlights.

  The client closed in and brought her hands around Samantha’s petrified form. The fingertips stroked up and down her front and the soft sensuous touch melted Samantha with its tenderness. The hands rose together and encompassed her breasts. They etched swirls on her smothered nipples before one hand clasped a stiffened teat and the other started to meander down once more. It reached the hem of her skirt and pulled it up. Lifting the gloss curtain, she exposed Samantha’s thong. Fingers then laid themselves to the front of the fabric and began to paw at it, stroking her belly. Samantha released a soft drawn out moan as she felt the exquisite effects of such teasing play.

  Lips brushed her neck and rose up to take in her earlobe. Suckling delicately on this nugget of flesh, the woman’s left hand continued to alternate between Samantha’s breasts while the other operated her pussy with sterling ability. The thong began to grow humid with her escalating arousal.

  The steady warm brush of the client’s breaths in her ear was a seducing siren’s song, and Samantha’s eyes fluttered half shut with wanton acceptance.

  “I don’t do bondage,” she uttered again on a tremulous exhale.

  “Correction: you didn’t used to. You will for me,” whispered the woman. The sibilant statement preceded motion as the woman continued her stimulation and began to shift Samantha toward the bed. Samantha was powerless to resist. The unsurpassed expertise of the woman in pleasuring her was leaving her trapped in a delectable torpor. All she could do was follow.

  Samantha had never done anything even remotely perverse and had certainly never allowed anyone to restrain her. She was in utterly alien territory now. She was with a woman, she was about to be tied up, and she had no clue as to what else was in store for her. Hidden beneath the fear, she could feel a chilling eagerness to experience the unknown. At least if she were bound then it would be the client who would determine her part in the affair. This would help to conceal her lack of previous experience in such matters.

  Samantha was brought to the bed and forced onto it. The two of them knelt on the soft covers and the woman moved Samantha beneath the cuffs. She let her hands ride up and down Samantha’s Lycra-sheathed arms and with these guiding strokes, she brought them slowly up over her head while continually adoring her neck with kisses and brief laps of a dextrous tongue.

  The buckles were quickly fastened. Twin straps closed the suede-lined trammels to each of her wrists and kept her stretched up and on her knees.

  “Wh... what are you going to do with me?” murmured Samantha. She was unsure if she actually wanted a truthful answer.

  Pulling at the cuffs, she found that they were unnervingly secure. They were not the usual inferior items for vanilla “play bondage”. These were quality cuffs created to restrain even the most determined struggles. Similarly, the eyelet in the ceiling was set deep and there was clearly no chance of her breaking it out. Samantha would be here until the woman decided to let her go.

  “Ssssh. Right now you should just keep silent and trust me. After all, there’s nothing you can do now. You’re completely helpless, surrendered to anything I might want to do to you,” she purred and let her hands travel more freely now that Samantha was unable to defy her in any way.

  The client’s fingers wandered upon Samantha’s curves and assessed her body in full before reaching to her ankles. Samantha was startled when she felt rope being applied to her boots. The woven strands were tightened into a stirrup harness about the heel, instep, and ankle. After capturing her extremities, the client began hauling them up.

  “No, please, stop, I...” she began. Her apprehension was taking over as she lost even more control over her body. The client was steadily eating away at her freedom with small bites.

  “Oh such a bad girl. Struggling like that. I’m afraid I’m going to have to teach you a lesson,” crooned the woman.

  Samantha winced as the excess rope was yanked tight about her upper thigh and folded each shin up. With her booted ankles pressing into each buttock, she was kept precariously balanced on her knees.

  Samantha whimpered and tugged at the cuffs. Her gloves prevented the edges from chewing on her skin and her fingers started to stretch down, fighting to access the buckles that were an infinity of millimetres beyond her reach.

  “I’m scared. Please stop, please,” she sobbed.

  A cold sweat started to rise upon her skin as she struggled. Each movement assured her that she was completely vulnerable. Her gloss skin creaked and rustled with her motions. However, this only enticed the woman and made her eyes gleam with charged concupiscence.

  The woman moved from the bed and opened the trunk. The soft groan of its hinges caused Samantha to try to look over her shoulder, to peer around and find out what was being readied for her. Before she could see anything conclusive, the woman was moving back onto the bed behind her.

  “I was wearing these while I was thinking up all the things I’m going to do to you,” uttered the woman.

  Samantha was alarmed to see a set of shocking pink panties appear. Her glasses were removed and the garment was quickly drawn down over her head. The loss of her glasses did not affect her sight because they were merely an accessory, one that she used to portray a sweet and alluring façade.

  The underwear was straightened so that the crotch hung over her nose. Before she could speak, the client was stuffing a set of tights into her mouth after forcing them through her lips. Samantha huffed and broke into fits to try to get away. Her tongue tried to spit them out and her head shook from side-to-side as she tried to get free of the woman’s hold.

&nb
sp; Following Samantha’s head as she wriggled, the client followed up with a ball gag. The solid orb was ruthlessly inserted in the wake of the hose and spread Samantha’s jaws. The leather strap was tightened with a yank that had it grip around her skull and chafe the corners of her mouth.

  Murmuring and spluttering random pleas for clemency, Samantha jerked as a leather hood was dropped down over her head. The laced back allowed it to be placed without disturbing the panties, and with a stringent haul, the slender strings were drawn out. The jaws of the sheath closed and made the thick material squeeze her head tighter and tighter while also pressing the underwear onto her nostrils.

  The hood had twin eyeholes and two more for her nose. The lack of any mouth slit forced her to sniff deeply of the underwear with each breath. The overwhelming scent of the woman’s sex haunted the fabric and revealed how much pleasure she was planning on taking from her predetermined deeds. The aroma of leather loitered in the background and together the two scents swarmed through Samantha’s senses.

  With the hood fastened in place, a gas mask was taken up and the black respirator was forced to her face with a harness of rubber straps. The two round eyepieces restricted her view and made her wheeze through its filters.

  “There, that should keep you quiet,” commented the woman as she moved off the bed. “I’m going to get changed. Wait here for me, will you?”

  The client strolled out of the room and left Samantha suspended and fighting her strict confinement. Samantha busied herself trying to get free, trying to find some lapse in her bondage that she might exploit and use to escape. There was nothing. She could not get up off her knees and her hands were secure. All she could do was hang and drink of the feminine scent that crawled through her nostrils. The tights were quickly becoming sodden with her saliva and this forced her to keep her head up lest she start to drool into the interior of the masks.

  The door opened and she looked around and through the translucent lenses of the mask to see the client. The woman was now clad in blatantly fetishist garb.

  Latex shorts had been set over a pair of tights and the nylon slipped into knee-high patent boots that bore a slight platform and a wicked heel. A longline bra clutched about her upper body. The moulded cups offered up her cleavage for admiration and every inch of the rubber material had been polished to a scintillating sheen.

  Sashaying forward and bloated with her sense of power over Samantha, the client slid onto the bed and sprawled out before the imprisoned gaze of her captive.

  “Mmm, such a delightful young thing,” she stated. Letting one hand trail about her body, the other reached out to stroll upon Samantha’s stockinged thighs.

  Sitting up, the woman reached under one of the pillows and produced a battery powered massage wand. The white handle sported a thin stalk upon which resided the smooth fist-sized barrel of the vibrating head. A flick of the switch set it buzzing with tight waves of shivering life.

  The white bulbous tip oscillated frantically and the toy wafted before Samantha on a teasing wave. It then began to bob up and down while she stared at it with wide and mesmerised eyes.

  Again, the woman reached under a pillow, and this time brought out a short riding crop. The purple woven stem emerged from a leather grip and ended in a thin hoop of dark hide.

  “Spread your legs,” ordered the female with a stern tone.

  When Samantha refused to acquiesce, the crop flashed around, stung her flank, and sent a jolt of hot distress into her skin. The skirt had done surprisingly little to absorb the ferocious effects of the weapon.

  “I told you to do something,” said the woman, and held the crop back in readiness to repeat the lesson unless Samantha did as she was told.

  The hot throbbing presence in her side speedily overcame her paltry resistance and Samantha gave in. No sooner had she shuffled her knees outward than the wand swung in and nuzzled up under her skirt to lay its thrumming head against her pussy. Samantha jerked to attention and almost lifted herself from the blankets when intense waves of rhapsody consumed her sex.

  The woman pressed the massaging machine against her clit. The sensitive morsel was shuddered with diligent vibrations and Samantha moaned onto her gag. Snorting into the mask, she squirmed and quaked, overcome by the remarkable intensity of the bliss.

  “You like that don’t you?” said the woman with a smirk as she succeeded in controlling the violently nodding Samantha with the implement.

  The woman began to draw it away, moving it slowly back to coerce Samantha into arching her hips forward. Such was its allure that Samantha had no option but to strive to keep in contact with the toy. She thrust herself increasingly forward until she could no longer maintain the agonising pose. With her spine smarting, she wriggled against her bonds, her abdomen stretched forth as the wand left her moist thong and remained infuriatingly out of reach.

  The woman placed the wand to her own body and reclined into the cushions. Samantha paused for a moment then shuffled back to ease the strain in her vertebrae.

  With the wand clamped to her latex-smothered crotch, the client clawed at the sheets and gasped with delight. Her eyes locked on Samantha’s bound body and used it as visual stimulus for her masturbation.

  Watching the woman writhe in ecstasy was strangely arousing for Samantha. The image of this delectable form and its libidinous serpentine dance had captured a previously unrecognised fascination with her gender.

  “You want more of this?” said the woman with a long sigh.

  The client’s left leg reached out and moved between Samantha’s thighs. The rounded patent toe rose up and rubbed against the damp underwear of her captive.

  “Of course you do,” she said with a smile.

  The woman proceeded to switch off the toy and set it aside. She ferreted beneath the cushions once more and accessed the secret stash of toys and implements that she had set there in sly readiness.

  “But not until later. First, there are other treats in store for you.”

  Samantha gurgled upon her gag and battled against her bonds as a string of anal beads, a tube of lubricant, and a set of surgical gloves emerged into view. Each of the five red orbs was about an inch and a half in diameter and they were strung together on a slim leather cord.

  Samantha knew what they were but had never had them used on her. Even if she had contemplated them so as to entertain a favoured client, she would not have envisioned ones of such a size.

  “I take it from that look that you’ve never been filled up with toys of this variety before?” asked the woman. Grabbing the crop, she crawled around behind Samantha.

  Clamping her thighs together, Samantha clenched her rear. She was anxious to prevent the orbs being forced into her. She was not sure that her anus could handle such acute violation.

  The woman took hold of the hem of her skirt and lifted it up. Gathering it at Samantha’s hips, the client’s hands slid up to the top of her Basque and unfastened the laces. Opening the garment down the front, she swiftly exposed Samantha’s naked breasts.

  The suspenders were unclipped, the Basque was pulled out from under the skirt, then it was flung aside.

  “Spread your legs... wide,” ordered the woman.

  Taking up the crop, she wiggled it in the air so that the lissom weapon hummed threateningly. Afraid of being stuffed with these sizeable devices, Samantha continued to refuse. She hoped that if she held out long enough the woman would become bored and just give up.

  The crop whistled against the air and exploited the area that her bound feet did not cover. The length of the weapon sounded with a dull thwack across both her bared cheeks. Samantha’s legs kicked against the rope bonds and she arched up as the lucid streak of anguish stormed through the soft flesh of her buttocks. Wailing against her gag she gave wild spasms and fought to endure the slow decline in intensity. She could not believe how painful it was. She wondered how she could hope to endure more.

  Again, the crop fl
ung itself to her skin, painting a burning welt on her tender hide. Filled with stress, she squealed and fought to hold onto her defiance. Another stroke was applied, and then another. The sheer havoc that the crop could impart shattered her rebellious mode after only one more withering hack.

  Samantha jerked her legs apart before her dignity reasserted itself and made her refuse the woman’s intentions. The client patted the seared rump.

  “Good girl. Very good. Now, we can continue.”

  Sitting herself by Samantha’s rear, the woman slotted her legs between Samantha’s splayed thighs. The nylon-smoothed limbs ensured that she could not close them and prevent the planned deed.

  The shrill snap of the rubber gloves being set into position made Samantha go cold with worry. She had never felt so hopelessly lost under another’s control. Even with clients, she was still in charge, able to manipulate them through their pleasure. Here she was out of her depth, unsure of what motivations steered this woman.

  The sense of utter abandonment and dependency on the generosity of another woman was startling powerful. It was a heady mix of terror and lust. The strength of it scared her far more than the fright of what the woman was intending to unleash on her.

  “First, let’s get you all nice and slick,” she announced.

  Popping up the lid of the tube, the client squeezed a generous measure of the viscous gel onto her protected fingertips. A latex-clad hand grabbed Samantha’s right buttock and revived the residual pound of the weals with a thumb that dug into the cleft and drew the flesh aside. The other hand moved in and the client’s little finger hooked the thong and towed it aside. The waiting thumb snagged the slender string and the orifice was exposed as required.

  With her legs splayed there was little Samantha could do to effectively resist. Versed in the art of succumbing to anal penetration, she relaxed to ease the initial pangs of havoc.

  The woman’s fingers rolled into her body with ease. The lubricant was copiously applied to her tracts and the digits gave her sphincter a valuable precursor lesson in acceptance before the balls were deployed. The sensation made Samantha sway and moan onto her gag because the feel of the cool ooze being worked into her was a delightful one.