0 comments/ 27614 views/ 3 favorites April's Vulgar Arousal By: sweetkarolina Part 1 "And Janice would you please get me the municipal proposals' summaries from last month," said April Dowze emphatically to her new secretary for the third time that day as they walked down the hall, Janice helping April with her Jacket and her coffee and her stack of files. April had a meeting with the C.E.O of Cellucorp, a cell phone company located just outside of Los Angeles. She didn't know what that old bastard wanted. Finally April had her jacket on, took the last sip of her coffee drink and handed the cup to Janice, smoothed her hair out and asked her secretary, "How do I look?" She looked at her watch. '7:58.' "Perfect," said Janice and she laughed and snorted slightly, catching her snort. April greeted the bastard's secretary and opened the double doors to hear a big, "Surprise!" in unison from all of her coworkers. Actually, as of today, they were all her employees. As she mingled and moved from one cluster of employees to the next she wondered what they all thought of her now. Secretly. Were they jealous of her promotion? Did some feel it was rightfully theirs? Or were at least some of them as genuinely happy as they all seemed to appear on their faces and in their body postures and handshakes. In the C.E.O.'s office? 'This is some promotion.' April was five foot eight. She had long honey brown hair, down to her waist, wavy almost like finger waves, but bigger. She had rounded bangs that she always brushed to one side or another, depending on her mood. She had full breasts, but not suspiciously large, a tiny waist, long legs, and always high, pointed spike heels. She wore business suits but she wore them tight, and tailored in at the waist. She carried an old fashioned briefcase with bright red stitching. Her eyes were green and her skin was fair. Her eyebrows, always waxed and plucked precisely. But no one ever thought April Dowze got by on her looks. She was brutal and fierce in her decision making. She was highly competitive and results driven. She was every corporation's wet dream in every way. That night she returned to her apartment, ran on the treadmill for one hour while watching a saved episode of Oprah on her TiVo, and fixed herself a bowl of ice cream for dinner. She ate "dinner" on the couch in front of her other TV and felt a tinge of loneliness amongst all her electronics, machines, fancy appliances. She had been broken up with James for two years now but she still missed the warm body to sit next to, the friendly ear to listen to her, the romantic gestures. April ran her love life as she ran her professional life. She dated respectable men, rich men, intense men. She climbed the social ladder with her men, but never were any of them as powerful as she. She always kept them at an inch's distance, kept herself a step ahead, never letting her man forget who was truly in control, who made the most money, who was most ferocious. When April was Director of Marketing she was involved with a lawyer, a partner in a small but highly reputable firm. His name was James Wadsworth. April asked James to move in with her, into her tall apartment, behind the Hyatt, overlooking the entire city. April and James would sit out on the porch drinking champagne and talking for hours. They would go on shopping sprees buying expensive shoes for one another, suits, dresses, trying garments on, complementing each other's physiques, handing over credit cards nonchalantly while gossiping about office matters, hardly ever looking shop staff in the face. They went to fine dinners together, affording the best tables and booths, discussing the operas and plays they had seen together. They led the life of a perfect upper class couple. April's and James' sex life was as their public life. As it was 'supposed' to be. They frequently had sex in bed, April wearing a silk camisole and matching tap pants trimmed in lace. James would crawl over her from the foot of the bed and pull her tap pants down. He'd take off her camisole. 'Sex should be naked.' April's breasts were so full, he'd think. Other times they'd be more adventurous, playing with strawberries and whipped cream, April wearing schoolgirl outfits, they tried anal sex. But April always ended up on top. One day, James' firm had been hired to bring a lawsuit against Cellucorp. James tried to reassure April that it was only business, that it was nothing personal. He explained what she already knew, that they had been hired by an outside party to sue. But April's loyalty to Cellucorp took precedence and she came down hard on James. She coldly told him they didn't have to take the case. James argued it was a small sum for Cellucorp but a large sum for his firm and his client, not to mention the fact that he alone could not make that decision. April was unchanged. She asked him to move out within the week. She never saw him again. The night after April's first day on the new job she went to bed with that lonely feeling in the pit of her stomach and awoke at 4:45 the next morning, her eyes sensitive to the morning light. She had just been promoted to Assistant Vice President of Marketing for Cellucorp. As assistant vice president of marketing, April will now oversee all aspects of the marketing area including internal and external relations, advertising systems, public affairs and community relations, and marketing. At least that's what her job description said. The first thing on her agenda was to go over those municipal summaries and find out what's really been going on in marketing for the last month. Then she wanted to sift through all the billing reports from the last month and really find out what's been going on in marketing for the last month. 'Ugh! There's so much to do! I can't believe I'm already looking forward to the four day weekend.' The four day weekend April was looking forward to was Thanksgiving. But she didn't speak to her family much at all anymore. She was looking forward to four days of peace and quiet in her own apartment. Alone. April liked it that way. She didn't have many girlfriends on account of her looks and her fierce competitiveness. She didn't have a boyfriend because her job didn't afford her the time to hold down a relationship anymore. April wasn't planning on having anyone over or on going anywhere this Thanksgiving. This year it was just her and the couch. She'd even told her mother she was spending the weekend away, in Santa Fe, with her hippy friend, Sasha, so her family wouldn't call. The truth was, Sasha was her best friend and she hadn't spoken with her, simply out of neglect, in four months. Her father had tragically passed away in an automobile accident five years earlier, right about this time of year. April hadn't been to a Thanksgiving dinner at home since. She never spoke of the accident to anyone. The new job was a bit overwhelming, but she got through the first short week on her own strengths and talents and Janice's gracious help. Janice was a somewhat dorky version of April. She too had long brown hair, but it was of a course texture, and not quite so long. She too parted her longish bangs to the side, only and always to the left, and they were rather stiffly brushed aside. She was five foot three and weighed about twenty pounds more than April. She wore a-lined 1970's style dresses in a variety of colors and prints to compliment her dark skin tone and hide the fullness of her figure. Her eyes shone blue through thick purple plastic framed glasses. It always seemed she became more beautiful the longer you looked at her. But as soon as April walked in the room April had a commanding presence. She was a force. Nothing could be as beautiful as she with her tiny waist, long locks, milky complexion, her drilling green eyes. Janice's alternative beauty didn't stand a chance. April clobbered anyone in her wake. She treated her superiors with a fine balance of highly due respect, lack of ass kissing, and straight get-to-business talk. She treated her coworkers like stepladders, outwardly smiling at them as they smiled at her, secretly using them to gain footing on higher corporate ground. She treated her employees the worst. She used their hard competitive work for her benefit and never thanked them or took notice of whose work was most accurate or best put together. She never promoted based on merit only on who showed up with the flashiest final product. Two days on the job and April was already taking Janice for granted, expecting her to carry out tasks not in her job description. Carry her coffee, dress her, compliment her. April strode out of the office early on Wednesday leaving behind a jealous Janice to pick up the slack. Because she left early she caught them off guard. There were three, maybe four men wearing black ski masks, black pants, and black tee-shirts. They were waiting for her in the parking garage. They were lazy at first, some smoking cigarettes by the doorway, but as soon as April realized what she was looking at they sprung into action. April was jostled about. She saw a fist fly towards her face, she saw a forearm with an elaborate yin yang tattoo, she saw army boots. April was in a wholly different predicament from what she was used to handling. One she didn't know what to do about. That was a rarity. One man had her arms secured behind her back. One man picked up her legs. Another shoved a cloak over her head. There was a fourth standing and watching, the one with the tattoo. There were definitely four. She could sense how strong they were by how smoothly they carried her. They lifted her up, arms first, into someplace higher, with seats. April sniffed the air. She was in a van. The door slid shut. They were all in. "Tie her arms first," said a voice. "Yes Sir," said the second voice, and he got to work first tying April's wrists together, then tediously tying up her arms behind her back, to the start of her biceps, pushing her arms together and pressing her chest out. "Oh, Sir. I like her like this!" said the second voice and April felt several sets of legs pass in front of her, brush against her legs, some from the left, some from the right. She felt one of the men run his hand along the tracts of rope, along her extended shoulder muscle, along her breast. April recoiled violently. "She's feisty!" said the third voice, sitting next to her. April got a feel for where his face was. She spat in it through the mouth hole. He reached up into her cloak, grabbed her by the hair, leaned into her and said, "We can make this hard on you or we can make this hard and very very painful on you. I'm talking shitting blood for weeks painful. It all depends on you and how well you cooperate. Do you think you could do that for me? Cooperate?" April nodded her head in agreement. "Now how about a kiss to seal the deal?" April had no choice, he had her by her hair. She nodded. "Good girl." He forced his tongue into her mouth, through the mouth opening in her cloak, and wriggled his tongue around. April let out a high pitched grunt. Shortly after a fifth man came into the van, into the driver's side and put on his seatbelt. The others urged him to drive. The van drove a long ways until April heard a parking attendant pass them through. She heard them park the car and it was there they waited for what seemed like an eternity. The men made small talk, casual talk. April could hear them over her own breath underneath the cloak. The smell of her mouth filled the cloak. She was marinating in her own breath, sweating, beginning to lose air, heaving. She was too terrified to say anything or scream out when they passed the parking attendant. She'd promised to be a good girl. After all these years of being the powerful one April knew when she'd been beaten. The driver never said a word. April heard the sounds of carnival music and children's laughter and people leaving in the parked cars all around them, people slurping the trail ends of their sweet beverages. 'Disneyland.' After what seemed like three or four hours three of the men started to get excited and the one universally referred to as "Sir" urged the driver to start the van again. "Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!" yelled Sir. The van made a series of sharp turns and accelerated quickly and then stopped. All five of them now pulled her out of the van and lifted her over a low fence and dropped her to the ground on the other side. They jumped over while the driver drove away in the van only to return by foot minutes later. They took the cloak off April's head. She was at Disneyworld all right. Just after closing time but before the guard started his shift, apparently. They were over a fence next to a roller coaster ride that swoops down almost to the ground. April was kneeling in her dark green business suit with light green blouse. It picked up on her eyes, which were frightened and had strands of messed hair crossing them. She was kneeling on the ground in the soil, her stockings dirtied at the knees, her arms tied so tight behind her that her back arched and her chest flung out. Her bottle green eyes shifted fearfully from one masked figure to the other. She could see the driver now. She was a woman with a slender waist and rounded breasts and hips. Unlike the others she was wearing a black pleated skirt exposing thick, shapely legs. They stood over her and inched nearer and nearer. "Tie her to the tracks," commanded Sir. He was the tallest of the five. He had broad shoulders and a well built chest and arms. The others raised April up to her feet and pushed her to the tracks. April remembered what the third voice had told her, about cooperating. She didn't want this to be any more painful than it had to be. The tracks swooped low to the ground, about three feet off it. They tied April parallel to the ground, to the bottom of the tracks. They tied her wrists to a lower track so that her upper body was hanging by them and tied her feet up in the crouching position, open and by the ankles to a lower track. Her waist was tied to a middle track. She was squatting but parallel to the ground, a little over two feel above it. Sir walked up to her, raised her head, and brushed the hair out of her face. He combed it with his fingers behind her ears. "I think our little puppy is ready," he said and he unzipped his pants and shoved his cock in April's mouth. She was not prepared. She did not give permission. She felt the contours of his head slide past her lips, past her teeth, through her mouth and down her throat, farther than she'd ever taken any man before. But April did not gag. She felt a fledgling sense of pride about that. She felt another man pull himself up through her legs, in between them and the train tracks and press a semi-hard cock up her skirt, which he pulled up, and around her panties. He pressed his way into her and moved slowly, growing harder and bigger inside her with every thrust. Sir was still in her mouth. Hands covered her body, unbuttoning her blouse, unclasping her bra, pulling at her skirt, spreading her ass open. The man inside April finally hardened and started pressing into her with force, pumping hard, and with each drive he pushed Sir's cock deeper into April's mouth. But April didn't gag. April didn't let out any muffled cries. April felt that pride welling up in her and she felt a duty to not only 'cooperate' with these men but to please these men. 'Yes, that is the best way to get out of this situation the fastest, to satisfy them.' This was the best way to take the power away from them, to be complacent. April began raising and dropping her ass on the man's cock. She could feel herself getting wet. "She's getting wet Sir!" exclaimed the second voice from behind her. "Of course she is," replied Sir, calmly as if he were talking to April, looking into her eyes, and he stroked her chin as he fucked her face. April opened her jaw wider and tightened her lips around his cock. She circled her tongue around it. He caressed her outstretched neck. The man with the second voice started moving irregularly and came. April could tell he wanted to holler out but couldn't without revealing their location to any guards. He squatted down in between the tracks and April's legs and the man with the third voice took his place. He was a wholly different fucker. He fucked April with an instant hard-on. It was clear this situation gave him great pleasure. He immediately started fucking her fast and hard, holding on to her hips for added pressure. April nearly gagged on Sir's cock. She could barely breathe. She tried to meet his rhythm but couldn't so decided totally limp was the best course of action. 'That way he can just go to.' The man with the third voice came in a matter of minutes. April was dripping with cum, dripping with saliva, she was hanging from rollercoaster tracks, her skirt was up, her blouse undone, her hair messed. Yet something felt good about Sir's cock in her mouth. There was a budding feeling even April was not aware of, a feeling of relief from always having to be on top and in control, relief from always being alone, and there was a unique and momentary partnership between she and Sir. She found herself liking Sir. She liked being called a little puppy. She wanted to be his little puppy. Amidst the violence of this act, Sir was gentle with her. The fourth man didn't get a chance to fuck April. Sir pulled out of April's mouth. "Take her down," he said. "I'm ready for her." Slowly they cut the ropes and April was standing up in front of the tracks, arms still tied behind her back. Her limbs were stiff. Her feet were sore. The man with the third voice grabbed her and positioned her in front of one of the tracks. He spoke softly into her ear. April recoiled. "Now this is the part I was telling you about. You cooperate and things will go just fine. You struggle, you'll be shitting blood for weeks. Sir is unrelenting. Now I'm going to untie your arms so that I can tie them to the tracks. You're not going to run away now, are you?" he asked. April shook her head that she wouldn't. She was nervous. She'd only tried anal sex once before, with James. And it hurt a little. And Sir was bigger, a lot bigger than James. She just had to relax. 'Relax. Relax.' April's hands were tied high above her head. She arched her back. Sir came up behind her and put his face in her hair, pulling it aside and then licking her neck. He ran his hands all over her body. He was particularly interested in the up stretched muscles of April's chest due to her hanging by her wrists. He stood closely behind her and felt her breasts, the curve of her waist, he unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way. He felt her thighs, he felt her pussy soaking through her skirt, the cum of two men dripping out. He pressed his body up against hers and lifted her skirt up. He ran his cock, dripping with saliva, up and down her slit, feeling her openings. He found her ass and began pressing in without warming her up. 'Relax. Relax.' April stuck her ass out as far as it would go and relaxed her anus. She felt Sir's head go in first. Then her anus closed in around it. She felt his head press through her rectum, shaft following. That first stroke was slow. And deceptive. After that Sir let out a sigh. He told her she had a beautiful tight asshole and he fucked her hard, April's weight bouncing on and off of him at his will, as April's hands were tied so highly that she couldn't get her bearings with her feet. April could feel with every stroke that gigantic head forcing through and the long shaft following. It was amazing to her how sensitive she was there, anally. Sir grabbed her by the pelvis with both arms and came in her ass. One of the men unbound her and she fell to the ground. She was covered in moist earth on her legs, her hands, her face. "The next time you take a promotion like that you'd better think about the people close to you," said the man with the third voice. 'Is that what this is about?' April's Vulgar Arousal "Real close," said the woman. April thought she recognized the eye shadow but she couldn't place it. "We'll be watching you," said the man with the second voice. Somehow, April wasn't intimidated. "Don't even think about reporting this to the police. We've got dirty pictures of you and the old bastard," said Sir. "How'd you get those?" asked April. "It's amazing what you can do with state of the art technology. Untraceable." "Over the fence!" cried the man with the second voice. They started to lift April up but April fought them off a bit. "I can get myself over the fence. I'm not going anywhere. There isn't a car in this lot. Your van's my only ride home. Just let me do it." Sir agreed. April struggled over the fence in her spike heels, skirt suit, and opened blouse. The fence was cold. 'I'll get my blouse first thing.' Before she knew it she was over the fence. The first one over. She could run for it. But probably not in those heels or barefoot when they had the use of the van very shortly. No. April stayed put. "What a good girl we have," said the man with the third voice, brushing at her jawline after hopping off the fence. April recoiled a little. Where was her Sir? He was the next to jump over the fence. He laid down his territory over April, hissing at the man with the third voice who ultimately left. "Yes we do have us a good girl," he said, gently removing strands of hair from April's eyes and lips. He smelled her where her shoulder meets her neck and savored the scent. "I may have to visit her again sometime. Put her in the van!" The others scrambled to tie April's wrists again while April fought them off, briefly locking eyes with Sir and grinning. Sir looked away. The others were able to bind her wrists behind her back and tied her ankles together so she couldn't walk. April had to be carried to the van where she sat askew, her toes together and heels apart in a desperate little attempt to balance herself. The van started, jostled about when everyone was getting seated, and went on its way. It was another long drive back to the parking garage. April knew the way so they didn't put the cloak over her head. The man with the third voice had blond eyelashes. He ate an apple through his mask with a pocket knife. They all continued to wear their masks. Including their female driver. April stared at her trying to get a clue as to who she was. She inspected her fingernail polish, the shape of her legs, shoes, shoe style, anything. A strand of hair. But there were no clues. And that eye shadow she couldn't place. The man with the second voice had wrinkly eyelids and was perhaps an older man. The older man caught her inspecting him and threw the cloak over her head. After that, time seemed to stand still until finally they were at the parking garage. The others quickly untied April's restraints but left her cloak on. They threw her out of the van and handed her her briefcase. There she stood, pigeon toed, blouse unbuttoned and partially tucked in, hair completely in knots, grasping her briefcase across her chest, in shock. She finally opened the case and found her own car keys and drove herself home. The long weekend was spent more alone than April had ever wanted or planned. She had confused, conflicted, mixed feelings. Powerful and overwhelming feelings. And because of this confliction April hadn't the faintest idea how to even begin talking to someone about what had happened to her. April was horrified, disgusted by the men who had carried out her rape. She shuddered at the thought of these men, mere men, being stronger, more powerful than she, sampling her, taking her, using her, then dumping her. They had won. But she had warm feelings welling up inside her when she thought of the man who had facilitated her captivity and rape, tender feelings intermingling with her feelings of shame, intertwining with her feelings of worthlessness. Knotted up in the experience with those jokers with the voices was her experience with that leader. She wanted to live happily ever after with her amorphous memory of her dear Sir. And it was these latter feelings that caused April the greatest shame, above all else amorousness towards one that is proven stronger. Come Monday April treated all of her coworkers with an equal amount of suspicion. Everyone seemed to glance at her a little too long. The only person she knew she could trust was Janice. Janice was the only person who seemed to act natural. April treated her with usual aloofness, didn't greet her as she passed Janice at her desk on April's way in to her office, and shut the door behind her. April dropped her briefcase, unwound her shawl, and plopped into one of her comfy guest seats, knees together, ankles apart, arms spread sticking straight out on the arm rests. 'Paranoia is exhausting.' She sipped her Starbucks coffee drink. And again. She listened to the sound of her golden desktop gift clock ticking. For a moment she couldn't bring herself to work, though there was so much to do she quickly got lost in paperwork and the long day had almost passed her by when at 5:30 Janice came rushing into her office. "What have I told you about knocki-" "It's Mr. Bradford!" Janice exclaimed, flailing her hands in the air. "The Old Bastard?" April asked. "What about him?" "He's having a heart attack! He was in a meeting and he just fell over clutching his chest. They've called 9-1-1!" said Janice. The Old Bastard was dead by the time the emergency response team arrived. An autopsy later revealed a massive coronary. He left his Cellucorp position and shares to his eldest son, Milton. Milton obtained his college degree on a football scholarship and never obtained any higher education degrees. He worked his way in and around the company in various managerial fluff jobs that seemed to be given to him rather than earned by him. These were jobs that could, in April's opinion, handle his inferior intellect. When he officially took over the company he was called to deliver an introductory speech before much of the upper level staff and his words were poorly delivered and ill received by much of the personnel. He was widely regarded as incompetent and many were worried for the future of the company and the security of their jobs. The Old Bastard may have been impossible to work with due to his stubborn thinking, ferocious decision making, and hot tempered remarks, but he knew how to run the company. Milton was clearly hopeless. The general feeling throughout the company was that the company was going to take a turn for the worse and everybody was bracing themselves for rough and rocky times. About a week after he took his position Milton called April into his office. He asked her a series of questions about how she felt about her new position. April did her best to answer as intelligently and capably as possible, trying to blatantly surpass him on an intellectual level, forgetting her place. Competitive girl. 'Meathead.' "We have a press conference with Channel 5 tomorrow I will need a brief address written for them," said Milton. "And I want to initiate a new customer education philosophy in this company. You need to spearhead initiation of this philosophy within the company first, then lead the team for marketing it to the public." "I can have Janice write something up and I'll assemble a team for the new company philosophy," April said. "As assistant vice president of marketing, April, you will now oversee all aspects of the marketing area including internal and external communications, multi-channel marketing and advertising programs, public relations and community initiatives to support Cellucorp's strategic goals and customer-education philosophy and culture. I expect you, not Janice to write the brief speech. And when you assemble the teams for marketing the new company culture I expect you to be the head of those teams working, not delegating." "Yes sir," said April. She was shocked by his response to her. He was more intelligent than she thought. He'd given her a verbal beating and reminded her of her place in her relation to him. This verbal beating was like an intimate tendril reaching out, reaching deep down her mouth like Sir had, down her throat into her stomach, massaging the warm spot she felt for her Sir. All her mixed and twisted feelings came rushing back through her after this verbal slapping and she carefully placed one spiked heel in front of the other with haste and care not to let a tear drop from her eyes on her way back to her office. She passed Janice on her way in without greeting her again, this time not out of aloofness but out of fear that she would see her tortured face. Once she sat at her desk the tears began to flow. She liked his new initiative. She wrote the speech through tears and e-mailed it to Milton immediately. "Nice work," he e-mailed back. April felt a new kind of satisfaction. She found herself wanting to please him with this new enterprise. April continued, on a regular basis, to impress Milton during the new customer education campaign. On the Eve of the launch of the public campaign the company threw another party in the C.E.O.'s office. April once again found herself shaking hands with people who smiled at her, and gestured genuinely. She found herself wondering again what they were really thinking when they shook her hand, this time if they were her rapists, if maybe one of them was her Sir. Who fit that description? At one point one of April's superiors complimented her on her L.A. proposal and they wanted to see her notes on it. "Sure! I can go get them for you right now," she told them and she excitedly marched off to her office to get the notes. She was distracted with her excitement. She didn't see him follow her. After she walked into the office he walked in behind her and closed the door behind him. She turned around. It was Milton. She was pleased to see him. She wanted to tell him about the notes. She wanted to impress him. She stood in front of her desk, facing him as he walked towards her swiftly. He grabbed her by the neck and kissed her deeply. April wasn't herself. Normally she would have kissed back, massaged him all over, grabbed at him, but she didn't do any of those things. Her body just went limp. She completely gave in. This seemed to turn Milton on because he began groping her all over, behind her head, around her thigh, against her breast, along her back. He put her hand on his already semi-hard cock through his pants and April seemed to wake a bit, kissing back a bit, languidly rubbing Milton's cock, feeling it harden in her hands. He wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. He lifted her up and carried her over to the wall, jamming her back into it, April holding on. Milton unzipped his zipper and pressed April's skirt up over her hips, feeling across the back of her ass for the string of her g-string. He found it and pulled it aside. Milton shoved his cock into April's pussy without any lubrication. She felt his cock pass through the exterior mouth of her inner labia, then pass into soft wet insides. Milton pressed her into the wall by the hips and fucked her from below. April felt gravity drop her deep onto him. She wanted to be impaled by him. She gave in completely, bouncing with each thrust so that she could help create a longer thrust, bouncing high up on Milton's cock, and dropping down upon it with greater force. Milton pulled April off of him and carried her over the threshold to the desk where he put her down on her feet. With one swipe he knocked everything off the desk except for the lamp. He placed her on the desk and positioned her on all fours. The desk lamp was the only light in the room and it shone across April's breast. Milton jumped onto the desk and crouched over April, smelling her back. April was transported back to when Sir smelled her neck and she opened herself up to Milton, she arched her back as far as it would go, offering herself up to him. He entered her. This time her inner labia were wet and he entered her with ease. He fucked her briefly and began pressing himself into her ass. 'Relax. Relax.' He pressed his wet cock into her ass and April was able to relax. She bent her elbows and lowered her face down to the surface of the table. Milton appreciated this and pressed his enormous hand around her neck pressing her side-turned face into the desk. April melted, arching her back even further. It was in this position, under these conditions, that Milton came in her ass. He climbed off her, zipped his pants, thanked her, and left. April climbed off the desk, holding her skirt up, found the tissues on the floor and wiped herself up so as not to stain her skirt. She got her notes and left her office. April spent the next week in a confused daze. Never had she sought out men more powerful than she and now she sought out two. Sir was more physically powerful than she and Milton professionally more powerful. Two Fridays following the work party Milton asked to see April in his office. He wanted to invite her to dinner and the theater. Dinner would be at his place. He would like to cook for her. April blushingly accepted to Saturday. Saturday morning April slept in until noon. She ran on her treadmill for an hour and prepared herself an egg white omelet with peppers and tomatoes. She ate while watching the afternoon news, maybe one of their new ads would come on. April stewed in her workout juices, the heat from which emanated from her sweats. April proceeded to take a long bubble bath. She washed her hair in special smoothing shampoo, shaved her legs, slipped a bar of soap in between her waxed labia, making sure each fold had been cleansed. She vigorously massaged with the bar of soap under her arms and had to rinse carefully. She washed every crevice of her body and stepped out of the tub a cleansed woman. She dried herself off and laboriously lotioned her entire body. She stepped into her pale pink robe trimmed in antique lace. She sat down in front of her make-up table with the brush in one hand and the hair dryer in another. Her hair was to look perfect. She dried her hair with the brush and applied a serum to it that made it shine. She spent a great deal of time applying make-up to her face. It was to be just noticeably more than office make-up but nothing garish. She stepped into her garter skirt, black with a red lace panel in the front, and stepped into each stocking slowly, taking care the seams would go smoothly up the back, taking care the heels were in just the right place. April stepped into her highest spike heels of all. They were black patent leather with ankle straps and a red sole. They had a one-inch platform and red stitching and lacing going up the back of the heel. 'Now. What to wear?' April leaned into one hip in front of her closet. There were frilly things, lacy things, revealing things. Finally April decided on an easy access thing, a little black dress, low scalloped edge in the front, but very low cut and made of this very stretchy material that could easily be brushed aside. It hung loosely from an empire waist and was very short. It blew assertively in the wind, always revealing just enough. April chose a small black and red patent bow clip for the side of her hair to match her shoes. She put on red ultra-last lipstick. 'This stuff never comes off.' She dropped her essentials into her purse and was out the door. They went to the theater first and saw Troilus and Cressida. Milton brought April back to his apartment. There were a series of hallways once you entered the main door and finally they entered the main space. First one walked into the dining room. Further away from that, behind a set of metal stairs, was a rather cozy looking living room, with leather sofa and huge screen TV. To the right of that was the extensive kitchen with long woodblock counters and six burner Viking stove. The copper pots hung from the ceiling. There was a half eaten loaf of bread, a knife, and some butter on the island. Milton gestured April to help herself. April cut herself a piece of bread and buttered it. Milton offered her wine and she accepted. Milton made a contemporary looking meal of steak tartar and steamed garlic broccoli. For desert he served chocolate soufflé. April nearly licked her plates as she sat at his bar, in his lion's den. Milton came around the bar and pulled April by her wrist. He pulled her towards the stairs, up to his bedroom, which had a cinder block wall, a king sized bed with a shimmery navy and black comforter, and two simple night stands. He kissed April again, grabbing both sides of her face and then pressing her head down lower. Milton unbuttoned and took off his shirt. April noticed a yin yang tattoo on his forearm. The same tattoo Sir had. Milton was Sir. Part 2 After Milton kissed April, grabbing her cheeks with his enormous hands, massaging her face, massaging her scalp, he grabbed her hair at the top of her head and began pushing her down. April felt her knees bending and she was less passive this time, though she always obeyed the hands at the top of her head. When she passed his neck, she snapped out and licked it. The hands pushed her down further. When she passed his nipples she reached out and stroked them with her tongue. The hands stopped momentarily, then resumed. She passed his belly button and attempted to stick her tongue in. He wrapped his hands around the outsides of her breasts, pushing them out of the dress. He twisted and squeezed her nipples pulling them out, far out. April hissed and grabbed his legs. He moved her hands up to his cock through his tight pants. It bulged severely and April ached to touch it. April wanted to massage it until it burst from his pants. She went at him with unusual vigor. He unzipped his zipper and she pulled Milton's cock out and pressed it into her mouth. Her lips acted as a pillow in between the cock and her teeth. He grabbed her by the hair again by first running his fingers through it and then grasping a handful of hair from the back of her head. He massaged and grabbed her scalp. He fucked her mouth hard, forcing his cock down April's throat, banging her with his hips, his legs. April relaxed her throat right away. She lengthened her neck and straitened it. She took him in as far as he would go. When he thrust up against her, April's head would get knocked back and her mouth would come off his cock. She'd give it a single once-over with her hand before it got thrust back down her throat again. Finally Milton thrust his cock deep in her throat and held it there. He pulled out. He pulled April up by the armpits. He massaged her breasts, which were pushed inward and upward by her dress. He stroked her golden brown hair off her shoulders and smelled her neck. April became weak in her knees and began to fall but Milton caught her. She exposed her neck even further and he reached down and bit it in the form of small kisses, tasty morsels sampled all along her neck and across her breast. He lifted her up, walking towards the bed and flinging her on it. April landed on all fours, arching her back, hair in her face. Her breasts were still out. Milton stepped right up to the bed. April hung her head down. He pulled the hem of her dress up over her ass and pinched it over and over. He climbed onto the bed behind her, rubbing his hands all over her, April melting under them. His cock was wet with her saliva and he rubbed it around the dry outsides of her inner labia, around her outer labia, and in the crevices in between. He let his cock slip into her and especially for that first thrust he could feel her walls closing in around him as he pressed into her. But he stopped and pulled out slowly. He grabbed April by the waist and turned her over onto her back. She lay there dreamily with her knees bent up. Milton positioned her legs spread open and pressed himself into her again, this time with more force, more rhythm. He braced himself on April's ankles and April had to generate a lot of energy to push up against his hands on her ankles. She could feel his belt rubbing her upper leg raw and slapping it. She pressed her hands up against her thighs, pushing herself into him even further. Milton hammered into her, April's dress falling up to her belly, her breasts still pressed together by the top of the dress. He pressed her hands up over her head and held her wrists down into the bed. His hips made a full rotation, pulling his cock all the way out, and thrusting it all the way in, shaking the whole of April's body. Milton leaned in and bit her nipple, pulling it far out from its original position, flicking it with his tongue. April cried out in pain and ecstasy, as her body shook underneath Milton's teeth from his continuous fucking. April's clear enjoyment of the situation was enough to throw him over the edge and he came in her pussy. Milton put her legs together and down and lay down beside her, running his fingers through her hair as he pulled strands of it off her face. April never felt so special. April's Vulgar Arousal For the next month Milton and April continued their wild affair but kept it private from anyone at work. Milton continued to make direct demands upon April and April carried out the tasks happily. April didn't understand the changes that were going on inside of her. She just knew she was blissfully happy. She was a domineering powerhouse in the business world, and a wonton submissive in her private life, though she didn't know it. Milton ordered her food at restaurants. He chose where and when they went places. He was completely dominating in the bedroom. He picked out her clothes. But throughout all of this April never once thought about a formal Dominant/submissive lifestyle. She didn't realize that was what she was leading. She just knew she melted in Milton's arms and she wanted nothing more than to please him. Finally one day Milton brought the subject up. He reminded April of his behaviors, his pinches, his bites, his control over every situation. He had to tell her she was submissive. April stormed out. To her, there was no way she was submissive. She was powerful, successful, rich. She would never lie down before a man. Men lay down before her. She got into her car and drove home. That night she had a dream. She was impaled by a tree from her ass through, twisting and turning through her insides, through her throat and out her mouth. She couldn't move off the tree, only turn around on it. The tree had vines growing on it and they filled her stomach, warming her, soothing her, making her feel special. She came and squirted in her sleep. The convulsions woke her up while they were still going on, the dream still fresh in her mind. She got up and chugged a glass of water. She had to clean off the bed. She scrubbed furiously. She felt she had to shake these feelings from herself, this infatuation with her Milton. She thought he saw her as subservient. She didn't want a man like that. In the office things went along as normal. April began receiving orders from her direct superior, a man on the board of directors, and stopped receiving them entirely from Milton. April regained full control over her entire life and she was relieved to have things that way. But there was a hole in the pit of her stomach. Something still didn't feel quite right. Out of curiosity, on a Friday night, April looked up Dominance and submission on the internet. She came across the Dominant's and submissive's prayers. She was taken by the romance of it all. She felt that warmth in her stomach again. Then April looked at a lot of porn. She viewed it as educational. She watched porn all weekend. On Monday she asked to see Milton. Milton eagerly agreed to see her. April straightened herself up and walked into his office. Milton put his feet up on his desk and his hands behind his head. He gestured at her to speak. "I've been thinking about what you said. About my being submissive. I had this dream. And I think you were right. I want us to be together," April said, dropping her head down. Milton uncrossed his ankles and stood up. He walked over to April and grabbed her head. He kissed her, pressing her head more deeply into his mouth, groping her frantically from her ass to her shoulders, from her hips to her breasts. He turned her around and bent her over his desk. April anticipated the moment when he would pull the hem of her skirt up over her hips and fuck her. But that moment never came. Instead Milton clapped April hard on the rear. Only then did he pull the hem of her skirt up over her hips, but she knew he was not going to fuck her. He smacked her hard again. April shot forward on the desk. "That was for not trusting in what I have to say to you," he said and smacked her again. "And that was for leaving me." He slapped her in his office again and again. If April cried out, she only got smacked harder so she took her beating in silence, tears streamed down her face. Finally Milton relented. "You can clean yourself up in my bathroom here. Behind the ivy wall," he told her, straightening up his tie. She obeyed and left his office. By the end of the week they had weekend dinner plans. April was exceptionally open to Milton throughout the dinner. They discussed Dominance and submission. She shared that being submissive made her feel wanted and cared for. Milton listened intently. He felt she understood him, because to be dominant, you have to apply a great deal of care. Milton and April went on a series of dinner dates all of which contained conversation about this one single topic, Milton educating April, and April sharing her feelings with Milton, and none of which led to any sex. Finally, on their fifth date Milton asked April how she felt about gear. "Gear?" she asked. After which Milton went on a long, educational, and sexy monologue about all the things one can do with gear. "I think I'd like to try that sometime," April said smiling as she chewed her rare steak and vegetables. Milton had allowed her the pleasure of red meat that night. Milton immediately asked for the bill. He shoved her into his bedroom wall. He kissed her deeply and she kissed him back. He ran his hands all over her body and through her hair. She slowly slipped her hands down from his lower back to his ass. It was so full, so muscular, she thought. Milton pulled away from April abruptly and walked her to his bed. He positioned her sitting on it and went into his large, walk-in closet and turned on the lights. He came out with some short leather straps, a blindfold, and a crop. April was wearing a red sweater dress with slightly ruffled sleeved and a v-cut neckline. It was rather short and she wore it with a thick red belt with a single thin black stripe around the middle of it. And those highest of heels. After Milton had administered the spanking in his office he sent April a message asking her to completely stop wearing panties. Although their dates didn't end in sex, Milton always checked to see if April had completed her assignment, either visually or otherwise. This dress was particularly nice on a girl who wasn't wearing any panties, he thought. He rolled her onto her belly and dropped the items on the corner of the bed. He cuffed each wrist and each ankle, clipping her right wrist to her right ankle, behind her back, and left to left. He forced his broad shoulders in between her legs and held himself up on the bed by his arms. April was reminded of her rape. She became more relaxed. Her legs opened up further. Milton unzipped his zipper, pulled out his cock, and shoved it into April's pussy. April was overwhelmed with emotion. Milton stopped fucking her and leaned into her because he heard her muttering. He saw she was bawling. "What are you saying?" he asked. Her muttering grew louder. "Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me!" Milton began pumping into April as hard as he could until he came. He pulled out of her and a trail of cum followed his dick down her slit. He unbuckled her restraints and kissed each joint. April sighed and heaved. He lay down next to her. She didn't speak, she only curled up in his arms and fell asleep. Milton didn't know why but he was so taken with April, she seemed so sincere, he had to have her. In the early stages of their relationship he was romantic. He wined and dined her. He kissed her passionately and he kissed her sweetly. He pushed her, but never over the edge and she was always grateful for the push. He was sensitive to her needs and limitations. But as time passed, April got to know Milton better. She was eager to please him and became hyper attuned to his needs. She knew how his meetings went by the way he dropped his keys on the front room table. She knew he was worrying about personnel files by the way he slouched at dinner. She knew he worried about finances by the way he unbuttoned his shirt. Milton had two sides to his personality. There was a duality that April did not recognize at first. He put April up on a pedestal at first. He took her to Greece, to the finest hotel. He kissed her and suckled on her, ran his fingers through her hair. He massaged his hands all over her body. But he was a fierce Dom. He had strict rules. April was not to wear underwear of any kind. He managed her finances. He controlled her diet. Only white and green foods for April. White chicken breasts, white fish, egg whites, asparagus, broccoli, salads. He ordered for her at restaurants and April melted in the stringing of his words to the waiter. He was specific. The broccoli was to be steamed, not stir fried. The salad was to have light oil and vinaigrette, not creamy dressing. Dessert was to be fresh fruits or berries with two tablespoons of cream. April relished in these specific directions. She delighted in his control over not only her but over the waiter and the chef. Her heart was like frozen butter in the microwave, melting quickly to liquid on the outsides, completely malleable, but still hard in the center. There were now two sides to April. Milton had softened her. His assignments led her to foster more positive relationships with her employees, to analyze their work and promote based on merit, to recognize efficiency and industrious new ideas. Milton acted as a mentor. April found herself worrying less if the people in her office hated her and more if they were getting the support they needed from her. But the part of April that was still hard and frozen in the center got to know the other side of Milton's personality. There were times when he lost his temper. Lost control. He punished April for minor infringements. He slapped her. He left her naked and alone. For some time April thought this was normal. This was part of role play. But as time passed, Milton's temper got hotter, his needs more demanding, more specific, more complicated, more psychological. April became overwhelmed and often left his apartment in tears overcome with the feeling that she was never going to be good enough, she would never achieve what Milton wanted of her, she would never curl up in his arms again. It was after one of these nights, when April went home crying that she began, as any abused woman might, obsessing about all her actions. Had she combed her hair finely enough? Was her makeup flawless? Had she served dinner with the proper balance of respect and gratitude? Had she pleased him in the bedroom? Was she getting fat? Old? She began running the evening's events over and over in her mind, each time going back a little farther. She began to think about the night before. She thought about all the times she had made Milton angry. She remembered the times when he was romantic and sweet. She remembered pining over him as the mysterious "Sir." She remembered the night they met, her rape. She started going over that night's events in her mind. How frightened she was. How she promised to be a good girl. What extreme circumstances those were. How little she knew about role play, but still she was able to please Milton. Now, it seemed, there was nothing she could do to please him. But the events of her rape continued to run and circle through her mind. Some things just bothered April. Why was she so compliant? Yes, she was afraid, but she was a strong woman. Couldn't she have run? Couldn't she have tried something? Why was she so taken with Milton? She remembered the sense of pride she felt when she could take his huge cock down her throat, up her ass. She remembered how tall and well built he looked all in black, tattoo exposed, as if on purpose. She remembered the strange sense of security that total lack of safety gave her. But they didn't discuss those acts in advance. There was no prior arrangement. There was no safe word. There was no consent. April realized she'd had it all wrong all this time. 'I'm sleeping with my rapist.' When she came home for that long weekend she was overwhelmed with shame as any rape victim might be, but that feeling was mixed with confused amorousness for one of her rapists and that feeling seemed to mend the deeply personal, internal tear inside of her. Now that amorousness was gone and April was left with nothing but deeply engrained shame. She realized there had been many times in her and Milton's sex life when what they were engaging in was not role play at all but silenced rape. April sobbed. She cried about her abduction, she cried about her misjudgment about Milton, their entire relationship. She wondered if she was truly submissive or just suffering from some kind of psychological damage. She wanted to leave that life behind her. She wanted to heal. His dominance over her was abuse, she thought and she pushed that lifestyle into a dark and obscure crevice of herself. It was associated with Milton. It was wrong. But April had to endure it just a little bit longer. She had to stay with Milton long enough to discover the identities of the other men who raped her and their female accomplice. April stopped crying and her mind began scheming elaborate plans to sneak into Milton's office and search his files. She tried leaving her purse in an elusive placement and then asking his secretary if she could go in and look for it when he wasn't there. Twice he found it and brought it to her with a kiss. April shuddered once. He seemed to notice. The third time April did this she got into his office and had just enough time to pull her own file and stash it into her purse before Milton walked in. Once again, April had to play the ditz who forgot her purse. She quickly took the file to her office. 'There's bound to be something in there.' But there was nothing, just her resume, some of her awards, a record of a dispute between her and a colleague. 'Nothing.' Lately, when April felt like she hit a dead end, she went out and talked to Janice. Before Milton, that was something she would never have done, but many of his assignments led her to foster relationships with her staff and coworkers. She went out to Janice's desk and leaned on her counter. Janice obviously was having one of her migraines because her glasses were off and to the side of her and her face was down and in her hand. "Uh! I just feel like I'm running in circles sometimes," said April. "I know what you mean," said Janice, picking up her head, putting her glasses back on, April momentarily getting a look at her without her glasses, her eyes, that distinctive eye shadow. She recognized it from the night of her abduction. Janice was the driver. Who would have thought she hid a slender waist under those A-line dresses? "I actually better keep working," said April, tapping Janice's counter once and going back into her office. Janice seemed nonplussed at the brevity of April's visit. April knew where to look now, she just had to wait until 5:30 when Janice got off and search her office. She called the police station and told them she wanted to report a rape and when should she come in. They told her to come in right away but she said she had one last thing to do. The police told her not to do anything stupid. She explained herself. After Janice left April began carefully searching her office. Making up excuses in her head, in case she got caught. Making sure to put each file, each paper, each item back in its original position. April searched through the middle drawer in her desk. She searched all along her back wall cabinet files. She stood on a chair and felt to see if there was a file in her coffee cup cabinet. April was fixated on some kind of file when the next day it dawned on her to check Janice's email. She checked her inbox from around the date of her rape, overriding her password, but nothing was there. She looked in the sent box from around the time of her rape, and nothing was there. Then she remembered something the rapists had said to her. It was about her promotion. She remembered the day it was announced, because it was two days before her birthday. She looked at a number of suspicious emails, but none of them were incriminating. There was one with no subject that was just a link to a coworker, a link to a comic strip on office jobs. There was one titled "get it back" but it was just regarding getting a form back in order to edit an error. Finally April just looked through all the emails from around that time and after five hours she came across one titled "paperclips." It read: Want to get your power back from her? Man up. It left a meeting time in the warehouse district. April printed it. She looked several emails later, having searched under the same e-mail addresses and the meeting time of her abduction and place of her rape was mentioned. She printed it all out, closed Janice's email, shut down her computer and finally went to the police office. She was greeted by a Sergeant Duncan Connors. "But you can just call me Sergeant," he said dawning a friendly smile and a southern accent. 'Georgia, maybe.' "Officer Gains was originally assigned to your case when you called yesterday, but you didn't show up." He smiled at her. "And Officer Gains has since had a family emergency. So I'll be handling your case. Personally." He smiled again. He led her by her wrist through the busy main space, where most of the officers and detectives had their desks, and into his office. He sat her down in front of his desk and leaned against the side of it. There was a single floor lamp on in the room. It was shining just above April's head. April handed the Sergeant the e-mails. He told her to start from the beginning. She spoke of her promotion, the abduction, the tattoo, the eye shadow, the affair. "The affair isn't going to help you, but I want you to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. If you want to take this to court, and by the looks of it you do, they're going to insult your reputation. But I've seen this kind of thing with women who were kidnapped before. It's called Stockholm Syndrome." "Wait a minute. I'm not crazy. I don't need to see any shrink," protested April. She wasn't suffering from anything. "I was just confused. The jury will understand." "Well," it was Georgian, "I'm not your lawyer, but he, or she, is going to tell you the same thing. It's your only bet." Sure enough, April's lawyer recommended she do just that, see a psychiatrist. April gave in and agreed and the psychiatrist testified in court that April had been, indeed, suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. April recounted the events of the rape in detail, straight-faced. She recalled the details she noticed, the blond hair, the aged eyes, the distinctive eye shadow. The tattoo. She described how she came upon the evidence, and how each man had motive to get back at her, each man was up for her promotion, including Milton. But back then he didn't know he'd be C.E.O. in a few days' time, he didn't know the Old Bastard would have a heart attack and die and leave the company to him. She described her mixed and confused feelings the weekend and, really, in the months afterward. Milton, Janice and the three others were held without bail. The jury charged each of them with either rape or accessory to rape and kidnapping. April took a week off of work. When she got back she got to work hiring a new assistant. The company had a new C.E.O. hired by the board of directors. A week after coming back April entered her office to find a bouquet of roses there, stems cut short, in a short square vase. She read the card. It just said, "The Sergeant," and left his phone number. She dialed it. 'I should at least thank him.' The Sergeant picked up the phone. "Sergeant Connors? It's April Dowze. I wanted to thank you for the flowers." "Oh yeah. I really felt bad about what you went through, during the trial. I know that was hard," he said. "Still, I don't think you send flowers to the ladies in all of your cases," April said, leaning back in her seat, twisting her finger through her hair, a little surprised at herself. His uniform was very cute.