Her Master Demands (Dark BDSM Erotica)

by Dan Bruce

  With her mind now recovering from the shock she’d just experienced, Emily gave this some further consideration. She quickly surmised that this was good news for her as well. Okay, so the elevator situation had been hideously galling, a nightmare that could have ended in disaster. It had seemed shockingly foolhardy on the part of Emily’s Master, especially as he had an important interview lined up. But in hindsight, he was probably in control of the situation, using it to his advantage to sharpen his wits with an adrenalin rush. And he played it to perfection – no doubt building up confidence for the meeting ahead with a display of total control and dominance. Emily appreciated now that it was a carefully measured act, like what happened in the basement – the sex laced with danger to add some spice, but cleverly orchestrated to minimise the risk. Her Master was no fool – he was a manipulative bastard who was calculating and smart. Now that Emily thought about it – an ideal big ticket salesman in fact!

  And there was the upside for Emily Johnson: if this mysterious man got such a lucrative job, he would want to guard it well. It would be financial folly not to, considering the money the sales force earned. An average performer made a six figure salary – the very best might command another nought. Her Master wouldn’t jeopardise such a prospect by risking some hideous scandal. Nor would he wish to see Emily hounded out of her job, for as P.A. to the boss, Mrs. Johnson was a hugely useful asset to any budding salesman, controlling access to the C.E.O. – a man who could make or break a deal, and whose time every salesman wanted, but only those deemed worthy managed to get a slice of.

  Emily smiled with relief. She could see the bigger picture now. Her Master was playing games, to tease and amuse himself, but his intension wasn’t to ruin Emily’s career. He would use his toy in a multitude of ways, like prostituting Emily to the Italian. There would be torment in store and demonstrations of control, inflicting anguish through manipulation, but Emily guessed it would never be taken too far. Like this afternoon and the threat that was made, suggesting he was coming to the top floor on a whim, when in actual fact he was here for a good reason.

  Then a disturbing thought occurred. What about the collar? Her Master had been clear about that – it had to be worn in his presence. The elevator was forgivable as Emily was on her way back, but definitely not following her return. And they could very well meet again. The interview would undoubtedly go well – how could Willy Ross fail to be impressed by such a forceful scheming rogue who could turn on the charm at the drop of a hat. And in which case, if he was to be appointed, Willy would probably take the man around afterwards and introduce him to some key players on the top floor. Donald Harper for sure; and most likely Emily! Did Her Master seriously expect the collar to be on display in such illustrious company as the Director of Sales, or even worse – the C.E.O.?

  ‘Of course not!’ thought Emily as she smiled again, realising what was actually meant. Her Master has said it must be worn – he didn’t mention anything about being on display. Emily knew with certainty what she had to do.

  Picking up the Chanel bag where the collar was hidden, Emily nipped off to the washroom, a much more luxurious affair here on the top floor than the grimy one in the basement. It was empty, but nevertheless Emily adjourned to the safety of a cubicle. There in private she opened the bag and found the collar. Excitedly, thrilled by the naughtiness and the implication, she put on the collar then found the silk scarf that was in the bag – Emily being resourceful if nothing else, always prepared, conscious of the fickle British weather. She arranged the scarf as best she could – fixed it over the collar and knotted it at the front. Flushing the toilet that had never been used, Emily stealthily opened the door and stuck her head outside. No one had come in, so she dared to venture out, quickly walking over to a mirror where she could check her appearance.

  The scarf definitely bulged around the neck, and hid her beautiful pearls which she always proudly displayed. To Emily’s knowing eye she could tell something was under it, but it didn’t look too obvious. In a way that was good, but in another way bad: she didn’t want it to be noticed – except by Her Master!

  “He’ll know anyway!” Emily told her reflection in the mirror. “He’ll know without seeing it. He always seems to know. The man is psychic.”

  Emily made some fine adjustments, checking her neck from a variety of angles. Happy with the hidden collar that felt so mischievous against her skin, she took the opportunity to attend to her hair, tugging away at the expensively cut locks until it was in the perfect state of coiffure dishevelment.

  Then bang – a bolt from the blue, and an unwelcome one at that!

  She was just completing the finishing touches to her new look when The Devil himself threw a curveball her way. The washroom door opened and in walked Tessa Clifford, the head of Human Resources – a woman that Emily loathed and detested, and her bitterest enemy in the company. Tessa came to a halt. They glared at each other, hatred briefly flashing unfettered before professional fake smiles were forced onto lips.

  “Admiring yourself again, Emily!” bitched Tessa. “I swear we’ll have to order new mirrors quite soon – you’ll have worn them all out with your vanity.”

  “It’s not me the maintenance people need to worry about... At least I don’t crack them, like your ugly face is rumoured to do,” bitched Emily in reply.

  Normally one round of scathing remarks was their accepted limit, and that should have finished the exchange. Sure that she’d got the better of this one, Emily waited on Tessa stomping moodily off into a cubicle. But much to Emily’s horror Tessa came and stood beside her, staring into the same mirror, throwing reflected daggers into Emily’s eyes.

  “See – it doesn’t crack,” gloated Tessa, “I might not be as pretty as you with your inbred upper-class looks, but I’m still attractive – at least some men think so. So you can go KISS MY ASS, you stuck up little bitch!”

  Emily gawped at the woman’s image, so smug and assured. She was stunned at her audacity, hating Tessa more than ever. And given their history - that was quite some claim...

  They had known each other for over three years and been enemies for the entire duration. An influential family friend had recommended Emily for her current job, doing the ‘Old School Tie’ thing when the vacancy arose and approaching Donald Harper directly, swinging the deal over dinner at his club. When Emily came to the office a few days later to be formally interviewed, she managed to do enough to convince the C.E.O. that she was worth a try, but Tessa had vigorously opposed the appointment. Emily interpreted this as pure jealousy of course – the wicked witch didn’t want to see a younger, more attractive woman strutting around the top floor. The fact that there were better qualified applicants for the post was irrelevant in Emily’s view - a smokescreen that Tessa threw up to hide her bitchy ulterior motive. But Donald insisted – that ‘Old School Tie’ carrying sufficient weight, and Emily got the job. War with Tessa had been declared from the very first day: a private war that was professional and backstabbing, underhand, and at times downright ruthless. But there was an unspoken limit to the conflict – until now that was, when the line had been crossed.

  “In your dreams!” hissed Emily, at last finding her voice. “I’d sooner die than kiss your fat flabby ass!”

  Tessa held her smug grin, annoyingly assured. She held it for a moment before a puzzled expression crept over her face – her eyes screwing up as they focused on Emily’s neck and the unusual adornment of a scarf where normally there were pearls.

  Emily winced, suddenly fearful that her secret had been spotted. She quickly moved away to put distance between them, retreating defeated to the door.

  “Have a miserable afternoon,” Emily hissed in her fury as she pulled the door open.

  “I will... if I see you again!” chortled Tessa gleefully, the words chasing Emily out the washroom as she stormed indignantly away.

  “But then again... maybe not!” was the follow up phrase that Emily failed to hear in her blinding rage as

she rushed back to the relative sanctuary of her office.

  Chapter 7

  Emily was still shaking as she sat down at her desk. It had been a very disturbing encounter – one that had caught her totally off guard and underlined the danger of the game that she was engaged in. The consequences of Tessa Clifford getting wind of what was going on was unthinkably horrendous, yet for a moment Emily had feared the wicked witch had cottoned on to the fact that under her scarf she was wearing a dog collar! That fear had given Tessa an advantage, Emily scampering off with her tail between her legs, when she should have held her ground and laughed in Tessa’s face.

  ‘Kiss my ass indeed!’ Emily mused, appalled at the very idea. Kissing anyone’s ass was a revolting notion, but Tessa Clifford’s oversized rump would be hideous beyond belief – the act in itself, and the indignity, to prostrate herself and debase herself by performing the deed on her most hated enemy. Nothing could ever bring about such a shame – of that Emily Johnson was certain.

  Emily took a few deep breaths to calm herself down then cast Tessa Clifford from her mind. She would think of some way to get her revenge on the evil witch, but for now there were more important matters to be dealt with. There was some work outstanding for Donald that would have to be scheduled. But first things first – she needed to confirm what was going on with regards to Her Master and Willy Ross.

  Emily picked up the phone and dialled a number. Fortunately Willy’s P.A. was there to answer it, instead of at lunch as she often was at this time of day, being wined and dined by some randy salesman who wanted to get into her knickers.

  “Avril! It’s Emily here,” she crooned, faking a friendliness that had never existed.

  “Emily! How can I help you?”

  “Information, Avril. I need information. Word has reached my ears that Willy is interviewing this afternoon. Is this true?”

  “Very!” enthused Avril down the phone, forgetting who she was speaking to in her excitement. “He’s in there now with him. And Lord! You wouldn’t believe what a gorgeous hunk... Oops – sorry Emily!”

  ‘Trollop!’ thought Emily, furious at the woman. She wanted to scream the word down the phone, but forced restraint and gathering her wits.

  “It doesn’t matter what he looks like,” Emily admonished. “You should have alerted me, Avril. You know how Donald likes to meet any potential new salesman. Just a courtesy of course – he would never question Willy’s judgement, but he does like to look them in the eye before an offer is made.”

  “Oh, didn’t you know?” gloated Avril. “I’m surprised Donald didn’t mention it.”

  “Know what?” asked Emily, sure that another of life’s little surprises was about to smack her hard in the face. It was turning into one of those days.

  “Donald has already met him. He’s an internal candidate, but it wasn’t in the office funnily enough. They met at a reception a few nights ago.”

  “But... But that would have been...”

  “The Italian Embassy! I know – Willy was very impressed when he heard. Not about Donald being there - he’s always getting invited to such swanky affairs... but it was rather odd for one of our lowly consultants to be attending an event hosted by the Ambassador. Anyway, they were introduced by chance: some big shot banker, I believe... small world, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Avril! Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” snapped Emily.

  “It’s hardly my place. If Donald wants to keep you in the dark then that’s his business.”

  Emily bristled at the jibe but forced her calm. “So, I’m intrigued, Avril... was it Donald who recommended the interview with Willy, based on the fact this guy managed to blag his way into the Italian Ambassador’s latest bash?”

  “Good Lord, no!” Avril answered, defending her boss like the tigress she was. “Donald might be the C.E.O., but Willy doesn’t jump at the snap of his fingers. This was arranged weeks ago. It was just an odd coincidence that Donald bumped into him. Seems he made quite an impression – and the Italian banker was very complimentary.”

  “I bet he was!”

  “Even still – it is a bit odd.”

  “What is?”

  “This seriously hot dish getting the interview in the first place - he’s only been with us for a few months and already he’s been put up for a job in sales. Now that doesn’t happen very often!”

  “No – it doesn’t,” Emily agreed, mightily impressed; then she dared to broach a burning question. “In fact it’s unheard of! He must be quite a man... What’s his name by the way?”

  “Adam! Adam Wolf!”

  Chapter 8

  Emily didn’t feel shocked, she just felt numb. She sat at her desk, punch drunk from the barrage of surprises that had smacked her of late, the least of which was Her Master’s name: Wolf – that was pretty apt! The man was an animal and no mistake; a predatory beast in the prime of his life.

  And he was cunning!

  Emily shook her head in stunned admiration. How he had managed to swing it, Emily had no idea, but it was a marvellous coup: to have charmed his way into a black tie reception at the Italian Embassy, no doubt as the guest of Hades, then bumped into Donald Harper, who just happened to be the C.E.O. of the company he worked for. That was no happy coincidence; it was a carefully planned campaign with Hades as an accomplice. And Emily was the Italian’s reward for getting Adam the invite and singing the Wolf man’s praises.

  Of course, Willy Ross was the real target in all of this, for it was he who would make the decision as to whether Adam got the sales job or not. Emily could see it clearly: after the feigned surprise over the corporate connection, the upcoming interview would have been slipped into the conversation. Suitably impressed, a glowing reference would have been passed on by Donald prior to the event that was happening right now. The job was in the bag – Adam Wolf had already proved that he was a killer salesman without Willy having to ask the conniving scoundrel a single question.

  There was more involved – like Avril had wondered: how had this lowly consultant managed to get the interview in the first place, after only a few months in the company. Another wheeze no doubt, but the nature of it hardly mattered to Emily. The main thing was that Her Master would now be in the sales team, and that meant he would be a regular visitor to the top floor. There would be contact beyond the basement – official business and favours to be asked...

  No, not asked. Adam Wolf would ask nothing of Emily Johnson. When it came to his toy, in the basement or elsewhere, even here on the top floor which was the seat of Emily’s power... Her Nemesis only demanded!

  An hour or so later, Emily was busy doing some research, getting background material for Donald on the key people he would be meeting later at the Savoy – snippets that would be thrown into conversation to impress, and hopefully win over.

  She sensed the presence before she heard or saw it. Emily looked up with a start and a pounding of her heart. There was Willy Ross approaching Emily’s glass fronted office door, his hand about to make a cursory rap. And there beside him was a Wolf in sheep’s clothing, smiling politely, listening intently - acting like the dutiful new employee. Emily wondered how long it would take before the fangs came out and Willy Ross was torn apart. It would be a few years at least before he was established enough, but Emily was sure it would happen. Willy Ross was a wily old fox. But a fox is no match for a hungry wolf – not when he’s decided it’s time to go after the boss’s job!

  “Got a minute, Emily?” Willy asked as he opened the door. It was a rhetorical question – everyone apart from Donald had a minute if Willy wanted one.

  “Sure,” said Emily, her voice betraying a quiver of excitement. But that was okay –what red-blooded woman, even one with a wedding ring on her finger, wouldn’t be excited in the presence of the man who was following Willy around.

  “I’d like you to meet Adam Wolf,” Willy said. “He’s going to be joining the sales team on Monday. Adam – this is Emily Johnson, Donald Harper’s P.A. Be nice to her. If you want Donald’s help in a campaign then it’s Emily you’ll need to beg to free up some of his time.”

  Adam Wolf stepped forward as Emily rose from her chair. The right hand shot out courteously vertical, not assertively tilting with the palm face down like most arrogant salesmen preferred to do. Emily accepted it. The shake was firm but not stupidly crushing, and lasted the prescribed three seconds, during which time Adam held Emily’s eyes and beamed her a knee trembling smile.

  “Good to meet you again, Mrs. Johnson,” Adam said as they shook.

  “You know each other?” quizzed Willy.

  “Not really,” replied Adam as he freed Emily’s hand but still held her eyes in a powerful gaze. “We’ve just shared the elevator a couple of times, and passed a few words. Hopefully now that I’m in sales, we’ll have the opportunity to get to know each other better. Sounds like a charm offensive will be in order. I do hope that I’m up to the task.”

  Adam gave Emily a wink as he said this, out of sight of Willy of course. Then he turned to his new boss and looked at him expectantly.

  “Is Donald still in his meeting with Barry?” asked the Sales Director.

  “Erm – yes!” stammered Emily feeling totally flustered. “Should be finished soon though, then he’s free for an hour or so after that. I can call you when it’s over.”

  “No, don’t worry – he’s already given the thumbs up,” said Willy, slapping his new salesman on the back. “The Italian Embassy - I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, Adam – you’re obviously better connected than I am.”

  Adam feigned a modest blush, shaking his head deferentially like the expert player he was. Emily watched the act, impressed by the performance – Her Master’s outward demeanour so different from what she was used to seeing. But to Emily’s eyes it was still the same man... a master of control, skilfully at work!

  -->