Dancing With Death: Ensnared and Enraptured (Evading Death Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Mmm…atthews. I mean, Sss..sir.’

  Mark sat back in his seat and had to work hard at keeping his grin in check. This was priceless. She had just delivered her pretty little backside on a platter for his delectation. How adorable this one was. Why had he not used her before? It took a few moments to compose himself before he could locate the stern tone that was needed with which to chastise her.

  ‘You’ve made not one, but two grave mistakes within seconds, my dear. What shall I do with you?’ He let the open question settle in the silence of the office. As expected, she made no response. She did manage to sink to her knees once more and resume her stance of supplication, which was, he conceded, an apology of sorts.

  ‘To make amends, Marianna, you will roll up your skirt and place your backside over my desk, so that I may do whatever I wish with it. You will then lap up the contents of this saucer, as I hate to waste good coffee. After you have accomplished both feats, you will return to the kitchen to fetch me another cup and we will begin again. I trust you will be more careful if given a second chance?’ Though she couldn’t see the dark look he directed at her, he knew that his words had affected her by the way her fingers tightened into claws around her elbows, which were once again placed behind her back.

  ‘Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,’ she whispered. Getting to her feet, somewhat unsteadily, she kept her eyes downcast as she approached his desk. It was a pity, as he would have quite liked to have seen the expression of apprehension, or perhaps even fear that might have lingered there.

  ‘Well, get on with it,’ and he pushed back the castors of his chair to allow her to pass in front of him. His impatient tone was not lost on her. Practically flinging her body over his desk, he watched her shaking hands as they reached down to grip the hem of her skirt. As they slowly rolled the fabric upwards, he realised that the pace of her fingers was not purposefully tantalising because she fumbled more than once at her task.

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Her hands faltered yet again, but quickly resumed the act of displaying the beginnings of a very pert set of buttocks.

  ‘Yes,’ her voice was throaty. She appeared to take control of herself and began rolling the material back with renewed purpose.

  ‘Your tanned flesh is beautiful. I’m going to enjoy taking that backside later. When was the last time you indulged in anal sex, Marianna?’ He was being mean and he knew it, but watching her squirm uncomfortably on the desk, he wanted to know if he aroused her.

  ‘When I was under the instruction of James Entwell, Sir, about two years ago.’

  Good Lord, had she been in his office that long? He wondered who had had the pleasure of using her. Without realising it, he found he’d asked the question out loud, because the next thing he knew she was answering it.

  ‘No-one Sir, since my induction about eighteen months ago.’

  ‘You mean to tell me that you have had no penetrative sex in eighteen months?’ Mark’s voice was somewhat incredulous and he shook his head in amazement. Surely that little snippet of information couldn’t be true. Distracted for a moment, he watched as the uppermost curve of her ass was gradually revealed and already his cock was pulsing behind his trousers. He suspected that Marianna’s body would have to be fucked several times and in many different ways for it to be sated. If she’d really gone eighteen months without sex, he’d have to go gentle, dammit.

  ‘Does a vibrator count, Sir?’

  Mark slammed his head against the backrest of his chair. She was serious. He knew full well that she’d had no partners, because he paid for the security which guarded the apartment block which housed all of his submissives and they were not allowed callers of any kind except for family members. When they were out and about, they were watched and any fraternisation of a sexual nature would guarantee instant dismissal. The idea was to keep them hot and horny at all times, but the thought that not one of the dignitaries, clients or visitors that were allowed the use of his staff had picked her, made him somewhat perplexed. She was a beautiful woman, so why had no-one required her services before now?

  ‘No, it does not.’ He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the tips of his fingertips. Fine, he’d go gentle, but she was still getting a taste of his belt. He’d been looking forward to that part.

  The skirt moved higher and higher. The further the skirt peeled back, the harder it became to breathe. He noticed the disobedient woman was wearing panties, which she’d pay for later, and the only thing it did was fan the flames.

  ‘Were you aware that I require my submissives to forgo their underwear at all times when in the confines of my office?’ He generally let them get away with wearing a bra, especially if they had a generous-sized cleavage, but there were zero exceptions to the ‘no panties’ rule.

  ‘Yes.’

  At least she was honest. Now that her fingertips had stopped moving, he admired the whole expanse of her tanned backside and noted that she either sunbathed ‘au natural’ or used one of the tanning tubes in the beauty salon that all his ‘ladies’ had an account with.

  He stood up and bent his large frame over hers. ‘Place your hands beside your head.’ His long arms, still encased in his suit jacket, helped guide them into place. ‘And what made you think you could flaunt my rules?’ He bent down to whisper the sentence in her ear and noted that her body trembled. For the second time, he wondered if she would be wet for him. He would soon find out.

  Marianna made an audible gulp before she answered his question. He noted, with some amusement, the two bright spots of colour that had just bloomed upon her cheeks. It took a moment for her to reply. ‘After a year of not being called upon, I figured no-one would mind too much if I wore panties.’

  It was a reasonable answer, but it didn’t excuse her behaviour in the least. ‘Do I, or do I not pay an awful lot of money to have you at my beck and call, Marianna?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, you do.’ Marianna’s bank account had a ridiculous sum in it to testify to the fact.

  ‘I have very few rules in this office. I wonder if a disobedient little slut such as yourself, would be able to remember them all?’

  She remained silent, but then, he hadn’t expected anything else. Placing a palm underneath her body, just below her left breast, he smiled when he felt for her heartbeat. It was easy enough to detect, the thing was trying to make a break for it. ‘Calm down, Marianna. I’m not an ogre.’ His fingers caressed each little bump of her rib cage and he smiled when her heart appeared to pound harder. So, at least she found him attractive. ‘What were those rules again, my dear?’ His voice was that of a master seducer’s and dripped with hunger.

  ‘Sir. All submissives are required to be clean shaven, wear no panties and not indulge in any sexual activities unless prior permission from yourself or staff has been given, Sir.’

  ‘Where did you obtain permission for the use of your vibrator?’ Mark was curious. He’d never spoken to the girl on any matter remotely sexual. She would be aware that if she was caught in her rooms bringing herself to orgasm she would be liable for instant dismissal, as per her contract. All of the rooms in each submissives apartment had cameras and although they were not monitored 24/7, it was usually a good enough deterrent for them to behave.

  ‘I asked your secretary, Sir.’

  ‘You asked Cecilia?’ This time, his jaw dropped open. Cecilia was his private secretary. She was approaching her sixtieth birthday and had been with him right from the start, over fifteen years ago when he had first dipped his toes into the world of commerce. Whilst she knew about his sexually deviant nature, she chose to distance herself to that side of his dealings and few of his submissives would dare to approach her with anything more than a perfunctory request. Her stern glance and vicious-looking shoulder pads usually kept the girls at arms-length.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  Marianna paused for a second. ‘She took pity on me because I was a brunette. She did say not to bother her with ‘th
ese type of requests’ too often, though.’

  Mark laughed. ‘I’ll bet she did.’ That woman would have some great tales to tell when she retired, had she not signed an NDA, of course. His curiosity had been piqued yet again, though. ‘How many times did you ask her?’

  ‘Just the once, I couldn’t summon enough courage to ask her again.’

  ‘You mean to tell me, that in the past 18 months, you’ve had precisely one orgasm?’ Mark could not believe what he was hearing. She simply nodded in response. ‘Have you missed sex, Marianna?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Sir.’ There was no doubt that her answer was in the affirmative bracket.

  ‘Well, on the plus side, I guess you’ve got a lot of joyful catching up to do.’ Spanning a hand across her cheek, ensuring that her head would stay on the table, he entwined a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair on his index finger and then tugged at it sharply. Her eyes became luminous with need. ‘Do you like pain, Marianna? Would it arouse you to suffer a little, under my hand?’

  ‘Yes Sir. I would like that.’ It was a standard response; whether it was true or not remained to be seen. The girl had been expertly voice trained; her breathy little whisper gave nothing away. He’d see how good she really was, when they tested the theory in a few minutes. If she could school her features under the cruel bite of his belt she’d be a bloody good actress.

  ‘Have you broken any more of my rules, by any chance?’ He pressed his lips to the pulse point on her neck and lathed at the area with his tongue. Thud, thud, thud went the traitorous beat.

  ‘No, Sir.’

  ‘Let’s check, shall we?’ He stood up and let his right hand trace a leisurely path down the side of her body until he reached her ass. He then let two of his fingers walk down the valley of her backside until the soft peaks denied him further access. He scooped his fingers under the thin, white lace of her panties and pulled roughly. The flimsy elastic didn’t stand a chance. Ripping the offensive material away from her body and discarding the remains on the floor, he cupped her sex. When his fingers brushed the smooth expanse of her soft, shaven pussy, she jumped up like she’d been shot. She was wet alright. Letting his fingers arch into the fluid heat of her body, his efforts were rewarded when he felt a trickle of liquid slide down his finger. She was aroused, ripe and oh-so ready for him. He curved both his middle and index finger into a crook shape and began to torment her clit. Marianna was certainly due an orgasm, but seeing as how she hadn’t had one in months, a few more minutes here and there probably wouldn’t hurt. He stopped fingering her and laughed at the little petulant moan she gave him.

  ‘Kneel before me.’ Her body slithered down the table and she was on her hands and knees quickly. He expected the woman thought she was down there for a blow job. She was in for a shock. ‘Remove my belt, Marianna, using nothing more than your teeth and then beg to feel its vengeance.’ Yes, there was the delightful gaze of disbelief in her eyes. He had been right.

  A few minutes later, when her teeth were still working to free the tight leather, he wished he had asked to have been blown. Having her hot breath torment the sensitive skin of his cock was a torture all of its own. If he ended up staining his suit, it would serve him right.

  When she finally freed his belt, it was not a moment too soon. The image of her grasping the leather between her teeth, with its tails poking out of each side of her mouth would stay with him for some time to come.

  ‘Back over the table, Marianna, and start begging.’

  Other titles currently available from C.P. Mandara include:

  The Riding School

  Learning The Ropes

  Hot To Trot

  Named and Shamed

  A Rough Ride – Nominated for BDSM book of the year 2014.