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The Lifeline

By: DreamCloud



Author's Note: You can thank Tim413413 for editing this story. Without him, you would think English was not my primary language. I am not sure where in my mind this story came from. I am hesitant to post it, but Tim has encouraged me otherwise. 

*****

There are points in your life when you find yourself on the edge. Your stomach feels like it is being squashed by a herd of elephants, and you aren't sure if waking up in the morning is in your best interest. I am currently on that cliff. I look down fearfully at the jagged rocks below, and pray for a lifeline. It hurts even more knowing I am likely to take a lot of good people down with me. People who have no idea they are balancing on the edge of the same precipice.

I smiled and nodded at Sarah, our secretary, as I passed her desk. I spent weeks talking her out of her safe, well-financed position at a law firm. Promises of stock options and wealth beyond her dreams finally convinced her to take the risk. She was wonderfully organized, somebody we sorely needed. If it crossed her desk, you could be assured it wouldn't fall through the cracks. My heart stopped for a moment when I saw the pictures of her three kids on the corner of her desk. A single mom with all the trials that entails. I'll take her and her kids over the cliff. I was feeling sick again. 

I entered my office, well, more of a cubical in the center of the open office plan. I could survey the whole company from here. Simply stand and do a three-sixty to see everyone hard at work. I sat down and hid. Everything will come crashing down on Monday. I wasn't sure I could even make payroll. The stress hit in a wave. I quickly pulled over my trash can and lost my breakfast. 

Sarah came running in as I was tying the plastic liner closed. "You okay, Mr Franklin?" she asked with motherly concern. 

'Nope, going to drive off a cliff after running over all of you,' I thought to myself. "Just had something bad for breakfast," I lied.

"There's some kind of flu going around," Sarah added, "maybe you should take a day off and make sure." The idea of hiding at home had a lot of appeal, but I couldn't beg from home. I needed more investment capital yesterday. All my normal spigots had run dry. 

"No, I'll be alright," I said, "I'm going to clean up a bit and I'll be right back." I tried not to breathe on her as I passed with the trash can in my hands. Sarah's look of concern was difficult to ignore. She, of all people, had the closest sense of the condition of the company, but she didn't know a half million dollar loan repayment would be due on Monday. She did know, however, the bank and I have had some heated calls. 'No extension' was the final word. It didn't take a mind reader to sense something wasn't right. 

I had a meeting with a rather picky venture capitalist in an hour. It was a shot in the dark, but I needed to shoot somewhere. At this point I was willing to trade ownership with anyone who was willing to shore up the finances. I just needed time. Good cash flow was only six months away. 

I walked past Bob Vinci and his many screens of source code. The man lived in a binary world. Grabbing him was one of my better victories. I had no idea how he could deal with four flat panels full of gibberish, but his magic always seemed to work. I barely made it to the restroom when I remembered his new car, new house and new wife. I threw up bile in the most painful way. I deserved the pain. It should have hurt more. The ship was sinking and I had forgotten to buy lifeboats.

It took me a few minutes to regain my composure. I washed my face and cringed at my red, sleepless eyes. I was one step away from a part on 'The Walking Dead.' No wonder Sarah thought I had the flu. I rinsed my mouth a couple of dozen times and straightened my hair. The man in the mirror looked ten years older than he did a month ago. I took a couple of deep breaths and brought my heart rate down to a manageable level. 

I was the captain of this sinking ship. I needed to hold it together. It was my confidence everyone needed to see. It was what I had to portray when I attempted to impress at the upcoming meeting. I wanted myself back. The driving force that had put this together had no fear. I shoved the inevitable to the back of my mind. It was only Wednesday - plenty of time left to fix a half million dollar mess. After shaking off a morning of self deprecation, I exited the restroom with courage. I had smiles for everyone.

When Lydia Sampson walked into the offices, the normal din of the place dropped to silence. She was an imposing woman and controlled a lot of venture capital dollars. She was dressed to conquer in a tight navy blue pencil skirt and a tasteful white blouse with a flared red scarf. She had an entwined, ringed brass belt and tied the outfit together with a short, slanted navy blue suit jacket. Her meticulous brown hair was in a half curl, pulled severely away from her face and held behind her shoulders with a small navy blue bow. Strong red lipstick and dark mascara gave her a demanding look. She looked to be on the low side of her forties. Her sharp eyes seemed be critiquing every nook of the office. 

Behind Ms. Sampson walked three lawyer types; all male and all wearing black suits. They were almost in lock step as they were led to the conference room. I took a deep breath and took my business-casual self into the lioness's den. I really wished I had a couple of suits to walk in with me so I didn't feel so outnumbered. 

The introductions went smoothly and I went into my dog and pony show. I planned on thirty minutes to tout the viability of our cloud-based software solution. I had all the dream numbers and charts, along with a mountain of marketing data, wonderfully-developed cost structures and a list of grade A partners. I was about to go into a demo of the actual software when I was suddenly stopped. 

"You aren't telling me anything I don't already know," Ms. Sampson stated bluntly. I was waiting for her to continue, possibly telling me what she wanted to know. Instead, I received dead silence and her strong eyes eating holes in my confidence. 

"What additional information are you looking for, Ms. Sampson?" I asked as nicely as possible. I held my face firm, wanting her to see that nothing she could say or do would rattle me. 

"Your level of desperation," she answered quickly. Her eyes never left mine and there was no humor on her lips. She had rattled me. 

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I floundered, trying to hold my own. Visions of my breakfast in the trash can came flooding back. 

"May we have a moment in private?" It was an order to her three black-suited shadows. They rose as one and headed out of the room. When the door closed, her attention returned to me. "On Monday you will be decimated. You will walk in and tell all these people who gave you their faith that you are fucking them over. My accountants tell me you won't even make final payroll." My stomach sent up some bile. I choked it back down. 

"I don't know where you get your information, but..." I started to defend the company, but she stopped me with a raised hand. 

"Don't feed me a line of shit." She seemed to know my problems to the penny. "I can make it all go away. You'll sleep at night and these people won't think of you as scum on the bottoms of their shoes. We just have to come to an agreement." Fuck, I wasn't ready for this. She knew she had me by the balls and I was about to be capitally raped. I never felt so miniscule in my life. I stood straighter and squared my shoulders. 

"What did you have in mind?" I wasn't going to waste any more time trying to shine a light on things. She already knew I was swimming in the dark. 

"I have two options for you - neither of which you will like," she stated with determination. "In the first option, I wait until Monday when the bank calls your loan and I pick up the pieces for a song. I think you have a good product and I should be able drive it to profitability in six to twelve months. I can cut salaries of the desperate and fire the deadwood. A win-win since they will all be blaming you." I expected an evil smile, but only saw the same business face. I hated her for having the money to be so cruel. 

"That would be unpleasant," I stated firmly. Now I received a smile. It wasn't an evil one, it was a winning one. I think she enjoyed my desperation and meant to give me an out. I didn't have to wait long for option two.

"In the second option, I cosign and extend your loan and give you an additional five hundred thousand in working capital." Her smile increased. So far, I was with her. I was waiting for the "bend over" part. "In exchange, I get forty-nine percent ownership and.." she paused and lowered her voice, "some additional considerations." I could live with the ownership loss. I really didn't have a choice and I was inwardly ecstatic she didn't want controlling interest. The additional capital was a welcome surprise, but the 'additional considerations' sounded almost illegal. I've bent laws, but I wasn't in favor of breaking them. 

"Define 'additional considerations,' " I requested in a less-than-authoritative tone. She stood and walked toward me in a less than business-like manner. Her smile went from winning to cruel and was joined by her eyes.

"Men like you intrigue me." She moved her face uncomfortably close to mine. "You're smart, driven and love to be in charge. It is what will ultimately lead to your company's success. I enjoy breaking men like you. Not in business mind you, but in private." She paused and I gulped. Her heels made her eyes level with mine which made it difficult to try to feel superior. "I give you what you want and I take what I want." She turned suddenly and walked back to her seat and sat down. I noticed she left a slight musky scent in her wake. 

"In private?" I wanted this to be clear. I wasn't sure what she expected, but it had to be better than telling Sarah she was unemployed. 

"Very private." Her smile and eyes went soft. They were almost inviting. "I can't promise you'll like it, but I will." I couldn't believe I was considering this. She wasn't hard on the eyes and not that old. She couldn't have more than ten years on me. 

"What would be expected?" I queried. I was still swallowing hard. I wasn't used to being this far out of control. Maybe bankruptcy would be better. Her smile turned lecherous.

"Think 'obedient slut,' " she said and shrugged her shoulders. "A couple of times a year, until I get bored with you. The other business arrangements will remain intact after I am finished with you." The word 'whore' came to mind. "You will obey me completely for twenty-four hours; no permanent physical harm will occur, but only my pleasure will matter." 

"I'm not sure I can be that compliant." I set out the issue to attempt a little negotiation, maybe try to set some boundaries. 

"It's all or nothing, Mr. Franklin. Trade some personal pride with me and your public pride will shine." She wasn't leaving anything open to negotiation. I was screwed either way. "I need a decision. I'm not interested if you're not fully committed." I was out of options and out of time. I imagined myself facing the shame of bankruptcy and failing my employees. The time and working capital she was offering would make the company shine like never before. I could be a whore for twenty-four hours. I was addicted to success. 

"Done," was all I said. 

"Good," she said and reached into her briefcase, "here is a key with my address attached. You will be there this Saturday promptly at nine AM. No one else is to ever know about this portion of our agreement." She gave me that warm, inviting smile again. "Let's call the boys back in to go over the paperwork." I took the key and pocketed it. 

I was dismayed to discover Ms. Sampson had left herself a one-time out in the documents. She could drop the whole thing, without reason, by exercising that right by next Monday. Suddenly, I felt I was being taken for a ride. With the others in the room, our conversation was less frank.

"But I must have the weekend to consider the options," she stated, "I have to make sure we can both keep our commitments." 

"How does that protect my interests?" I countered, "I intend to fully implement all conditions of the contract, verbal and written. I have no assurances you will do the same." I had no idea how to build the trust necessary to make us both happy. After this weekend, we may have the necessary trust, but today there was little. 

"I'll have your loan extended for one month in good faith, no strings," she countered. 

"Agreed." I smiled. Another month may not be worth enduring her weekend, but at least it gave me some time to find another solution if this all fell apart. I was shocked by how quickly she could get it extended with just a single phone call. I had been trying for four months, pleading to deaf ears. One call and I had another thirty days. You have to respect, or hate, that kind of power. 

I signed myself into prostitution a few minutes later. It wasn't written in the agreements; it was held over me like an anvil. I was hers or I was in the soup line being beaten to death by the people I dragged with me. One weight was lifted and another took its place. We said our goodbyes with all the cordiality of business partners. My company would survive as long as I could put out. 

>>>>

Saturday rolled around much more quickly than I desired. How does one prepare to be an 'obedient slut?' I had no clue having only sought that type of companionship once before. That escort was frustrated with my tenderness and desire for foreplay. I always seem to think women are more fragile than they really are. I mean, I like to drive it home as much as the next guy; I just need permission first. 

I showered, shaved and trimmed some excess hair. I used a liberal amount of deodorant and splashed on a little aftershave. At least I wouldn't smell foul. I had no clue what to wear. I decided on business casual. It was good for most occasions and consumed eighty percent of my wardrobe. The other twenty percent consisted of jeans and t-shirts. 

I pulled up to her house expecting a mansion and discovered something a lot less ostentatious. It was a simple two-story brick colonial. It had four two-story columns supporting the roof over the porch. A manicured lawn and cement pots full of flowers gave it a cared-for look. The trees were all old growth which lent comfort to the house. I parked in the circle drive and rang the doorbell. Ms. Sampson answered the door with a pleasant smile. 

"Good, you're a bit early. Please come in," she said as she pulled the door wide. The entry hall was a two-story affair with a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It had hundreds of multifaceted crystals that were reflecting the early morning light. The floor looked like it was made from a single sheet of marble, all white with veins of black running unbroken from wall to wall. Everything looked tasteful in a rich way. Even the frames holding the obviously-expensive artwork blended seamlessly into the feel of the room. A beautiful hardwood staircase flowed down from the second floor. The only thing that looked out of place was a large, empty wicker basket next to the front door. "Nervous?" she asked.

"Apprehensive," I replied. Her lips were as red as they were at our first meeting. The color of her lipstick clashed harshly with her pale skin. She had braided her hair into a single braid that ran down to the middle of her back. 'Powerfully attractive' came to mind. 

"Don't be. I will tell you what I want. Don't think, just do." She was giving me that friendly smile again. "It's a control thing - I like to control controllers." Now I was nervous. 

"Do we have safe words, or something?" I had done a bit of research regarding domination. I figured that was where this was heading, and she had just solidified that to fact. 

"Any time you feel it is too much you can just leave," she said without her smile, "of course that will void our agreements." I smiled at my predicament. Sometimes you just have to climb into the holes you dig. You just have to do it with confidence. 

"I guess I'm all yours," I stated with a shrug. 

"I'm going to love wiping that smile off your face," she divulged. Her smile was bigger than mine and no longer friendly. I forced mine to increase. We'll just see how much of me she can change. She laughed at my smiling revolt, "I knew you were going to be fun."

The large clock at the top of the stairs began to chime the hour. "I want all your stuff in that basket. That's where it remains until you leave," she said, gesturing toward the wicker basket. I was on her clock now and it was an order. 'An easy one,' I thought. I dumped my keys, phone, watch and wallet into the basket and turned back to face her. 

"Everything, Slut!" she commanded. Her tone took me by surprise. For some reason I thought this was going to be a bit more cordial. I gritted my teeth as I realized she meant my clothes. I knew we would get there eventually, but I was thinking bedroom or something. I pulled my polo over my head and tossed it into the basket. It irked me that I had moved so quickly to implement her demand. I slowed to a more leisurely pace - my pace. I kneeled and casually untied my shoe. 

I heard the whoosh before I felt the sharp sting on my bare back. "Fuck!" I shouted, more from the surprise than the pain. 

"You're on my clock, Bitch!" she corrected. I looked up into the face of a demon. Same red lips, just pursed into an expression of evil. In her hand, a two-foot-long black riding crop. At the end was a looped piece of leather. That was the point at which I began to really question the sanity of the deal I had struck. The clock hadn't even finished its ninth chime and I was having serious reservations. I had lost my smile.

"There will be no more foul outbursts from your mouth," she continued, "you will address me as Mistress. Do you understand?" I had a vision in my head of standing up and slamming my fist into those luscious red lips. I saw Sarah in tears and Bob trying to console his new wife. My stomach churned.

"Yes," I said quietly and sped up the disrobing.

The whoosh was louder and I flinched before it hit. I held back a storm of expletives and only released a small grunt. "Yes, what?" she demanded. It was to be total submission. It went against everything in my being. Twenty-four hours? I wasn't sure I would make the first minute. 

"Yes, Mistress," I said between clenched teeth. I swiftly threw my shoes and socks into the basket and stood to remove my pants. Her smile had returned; back to the warm, inviting smile. Fuck, I had pleased her. I preferred her upset. I was pissed and it was only fair that she suffered too. I removed my boxers and pants in one motion. I didn't place them into the basket. Instead, I threw them with a disgusted attitude. I didn't have to like it. The basket skidded a few inches from the force. I received a humorous smirk. I wasn't sure if it was for my attitude or the fact that my now-exposed dick showed no interest in the situation. 

"Kneel!" she demanded. I quickly dropped to my knees, the cold marble crushing my kneecaps. I held my expression of disgust and stared defiantly, as much as a naked man can, into her eyes. "Eyes down!" she ordered. This time I moved slowly. I made sure to give her an ominous glare as my eyes shifted from hers, down her chest, past her pelvis and terminated at her feet. She was rather trim and fit for forty. 'Forty-year-old bitch,' I corrected myself. 

She leaned over next to my ear. "You stay this way. While I prepare, you think of a good apology for my basket," she whispered with force. Her heated breath sent a shiver down my spine. Her words sent fury through my blood. Fuck if I'm going to apologize to a basket. She headed up the stairs. 


The Lifeline



The bitch left me there, kneeling on the cold marble, for fifteen minutes. I knew, because I cheated by glancing at the clock at the top of the stairs. I had to display my rebellion where I could. Only twenty-three and three-quarter hours left. 

My head was down, but my eyes secretly leaked upward as the demon descended the staircase. I expected some kind of tight black latex getup with long spiked heels. I did not expect what came down the stairs. She was completely naked, nothing on, not even jewelry. Her hand still held the cursed crop with confidence. I cursed my cock as it started to respond to her breasts that bounced slightly with every step. She was strutting down the stairs, showing off whatever exercise program she adhered too. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch,' I corrected my brain. My cock ignored me like a slimy traitor.

She stood before me, my head pointing at her feet, my eyes sneaking a peek between her legs. I hated myself for wanting to see. There it was, two feet away, a cute slit without any stubble, bare as the day she was born. I swallowed before I drooled and forced my eyes back to the floor. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch. Fucking traitorous dick.' 

"Your apology?" It sounded like a question, but I knew it was command. I had forgotten all about coming up with one. It's just a fucking basket.

"Sorry, basket," I mumbled. I couldn't believe how embarrassing it was to say it. The whoosh once again warned me what was coming.

"That..didn't..sound..sincere!" She emphasized each word with a stinging whip of the crop to my thigh and side. One at a time was manageable. I involuntarily scrunched up my eyes and barely took the flurry of blows. Visions of grabbing the thing out of her hand and beating welts across her body flooded my brain. Why did I agree to this? She paused, I assumed to let me try again. I let my eyes rise a bit, more to see if another blow was coming. What I saw was glistening along the lips of her pussy. My pain was her gain. This was a lose-lose no matter how I reacted.

"I am truly sorry, Mr Basket. I will never disrespect you again." I pulled it from the top of my head and enunciated it clearly. The witch squatted to my level. I briefly saw her nether lips part and display her moist pink flower. She lifted my chin and forced my eyes to hers.

"I believe you," she said with that loving smile. Damn, I made her happy again. Those fucking bright red lips were inches away from mine. I wanted them between my teeth so I could bite down and see if her blood was just as red. I was sure my anger was apparent on my face. 

Her smile increased when her eyes dropped between my legs. My cock had decided to ignore my anger and enjoy her nudity. "You touch that and I will show you true anger," she stressed through ruby red lips. She emphasized her point by tapping my erection lightly with the leather end of the crop. I flinched at the implications. My traitorous cock twitched at the attention. 'Fuck me,' was all I could think.

She rose while tilting my head toward the floor. My eyes returned to her feet, her toenails were impeccably manicured with bright red polish. "Follow me," she commanded and headed to the stairs. 

"Yes, Mistress," I said without thinking. I clenched my hands into fists to chastise myself for falling into line. My legs hurt when I rose. They didn't enjoy the kneeling position and complained until I was able to straighten them again. Climbing the stairs got the blood flowing through them and restored their vigor. 

I followed her ass up the steps with trepidation. I had visions of some kind of torture chamber. Her tight swinging ass wasn't helping the situation. With each step it swayed either left or right, but never bounced. It was a firm pillow that begged to be groped. I stayed my hands and tried hopelessly to ignore the view. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch.'

I followed her down the hall toward a room at the far end. Apprehension kicked in again. That's exactly where a private sex room would be. Away from the beaten path where guests weren't likely to stumble into. My heart was racing a bit. The thought of being strapped to some implement with the demon witch in control was not a pleasant thought. I could play at being submissive, but I don't think I could go all the way. I slowed my steps, trying to give myself some time to think. I hadn't even been through a full hour. 

I watched her disappear into the room. I stopped, closed my eyes and tried to think how far I was willing to go. I was willing to play along as long as I could stop it if I chose. That was the line I wasn't willing to cross. Being restrained was not an option. Even if I had to wait in the soup line, I wasn't giving that up to her. My pride returned in force. I walked forward with purpose. This was ending now. I turned into the room and lost my train of thought.

The room was bright and airy. Two french doors were opened to a balcony that was layered with pots of colorful flowers that gave the room its perfume. There was a white dresser with bottles and lotions and a stack of fresh white towels. In the center of the room was a massage table. She was lying on her stomach with her head on a small pillow - her eyes staring daggers at me. 

"Move, Slut!" she spat, "the hot oil is on the dresser." A massage I could do. If you blocked out her evil eyes, she looked stunning laid out on the table. She had just the right curve in the small of her back to accent her ass. I smiled at my luck.

"Sorry, Mistress," I said moving quickly for the oil. She caught me on the ass with crop as I passed. I gave her a little flinch which seemed to satisfy her need to punish. In truth, there was no strength behind it. If you think about it, I was kind of in charge now. Her skin was at my mercy. I didn't even admonish my cock as it strained to emphasize the beauty laid out before me. 

I threw a towel over my shoulder and pulled the hot oil dispenser from its heater. I could smell the lavender scent the oil was giving off as I moved to the table. "Start on my arms," she instructed in a soft voice. She left the crop along the end of the table and laid both arms along her sides. I squirted some oil into my hands and rubbed them together to get a good, even coat. 

I started on her right hand, specifically the palm, with my thumbs. I knew a thing or two about giving a massage. I have had some really good ones and I remembered what was done. I once had one on a cruise that practically put me in heaven. This older woman in her sixties had the hands of an angel. She turned all my muscles to jello. I tried to duplicate her talents here.

Ms. Sampson moaned as I dragged my thumbs across her palm. I felt the muscles of her hand give up their stress. I moved toward the wrist after another coat of oil, kneading softly, slowly increasing the pressure as I got to the meatier forearm. I saw her breathing slowing and she readjusted her head for maximum comfort. She was putty in my hands. I applied more oil and worked slow circles around her bicep while I stared at her butt. It really was a thing of beauty. 

I walked around her head, past the idle crop, to her left hand. I repeated the process on that arm to a chorus of light coos. My head was swimming with visions of grabbing the crop and painting stripes on her firm ass. It was about this time when I realized I was getting a little worked up. I had been at it for about fifteen minutes and it felt like a century of foreplay. 

"Stop staring at my ass," she ordered. I looked at her eyes watching mine. 

"It's hard to ignore, Mistress," I said and smiled. Two could play this game. I had said nothing wrong and had just given her a veiled compliment. Maybe I thought her ass was nice, or too big, or I just meant it was naked. I could see the thinking behind her eyes and relished her confusion. I moved above her head, coated my hands with more oil and began to work on her shoulders. 

"Why is it hard to ignore?" she asked with a tone that sounded a bit threatening. The long delay between my statement and her question was delicious. All women are hesitant about their bodies. Even a rich and powerful bitch. It didn't take a genius to know I had struck a cord. 

"It's not for me to say, Mistress." I dodged like a turn-of-the-century servant. I had little power in the relationship, but I would grab what I could. I knew this might blow up in my face, but what the hell. Some risks are more fun than others. She moaned as I kneaded firmly behind her ears and along her neck. 

"Cut the shit and answer," she sighed. It was difficult for her to get mad as I worked her neck. I could feel the muscles losing their desire to stay awake.

"Well it kind of stands out, Mistress," I risked it. I knew this one leaned toward the fat ass side of the spectrum. I could feel the muscles tightening under my fingers. I may have taken the teasing a bit too far. I leaned down toward her ear and whispered, "Because it's fucking perfect." I omitted the Mistress just to taunt her. I wanted to see how she would handle a compliment mixed with insubordination. She reached up slowly, grabbed the crop and lightly tapped me on the thigh. 

"It's fucking perfect, Mistress," I reiterated. 

"You have my permission to stare at my ass," she said in a sleepy tone and returned the crop and her hand to the massage table. I saw half a smile and knew that below her tough exterior lay a self-conscious woman. Score one for me. 

I began working on her back. I pushed my oiled hands down her spine to just above her ass. I then returned along the sides to the top, barely scraping the sides of her mashed breasts. My imagination kicked in and I saw those ruby red lips encircling my cock as I shifted back and forth along her back. It would have only taken a little tilt of her head to accomplish. I quickly moved back to her side to get the image out of my head. I had a serious urge to deal with my erection. 

I spent another ten minutes on her back before I switched to her feet. If you really want to relax someone, try a hot oil massage on the soles of their feet. I almost had her asleep as I worked on the toes and rubbed the soles with my thumbs. I was even able to calm my erection, at least until I looked up. 

Nestled between her thighs, just below her perfect butt, part of her flower was exposed. I felt a twinge re-excite my cock. I tried to look away, but there was an inviting sheen on those exposed lips. She was wet and I was horny as hell. Gorgeous lips, perfect ass and glistening pussy, that was more than a man should have to endure. I forced myself to look at her feet and doubled my efforts. It wasn't long before my eyes leaked back to the apex of her thighs. My balls were beginning to hurt. 

I moved to the side and began working on her lower leg. She reestablished her position on the pillow with her eyes closed. I could only see her wonderful ass now. Both sets of lips were hidden from me which helped a little. I turned my mind to business. I thought about what could be done with the new working capital. I could increase marketing, and thus increase sales once we went live. I could hire Bob some help and speed final development. There was a firm specializing in user interfaces that might be able to improve the user experience. Those thoughts didn't drop the swelling, but did quell the immediate urges.

Another fifteen minutes and only her ass was not oiled. As much as I wanted to knead that tight flesh, I didn't think my poor balls could take it. I wasn't sure if her rolling over was going to do me any favors either. Maybe the hour I had already spent on her would be enough. 

"You're ignoring my gluteus maximus," she said with disdain. I stopped breathing for a moment as I stared at her taut perfection. It was time for a bit a truth.

"I'm going to explode, Mistress," I said with reluctance. I was hoping she would show some mercy. Hell, I would relieve myself. She lifted her head lazily and looked between my legs. I followed her eyes. There was long string of clear pre-cum from the tip to the floor, terminating in a small puddle. 

"Oh my," she said with little compassion, "for your employees' sake, I hope you don't lose it before your time is up." She lay her head on the pillow. "Get back to work." 

'You fucking bitch!' I mouthed to myself. It was almost out loud, but her reference to my employees caused me to hold it in. She was a sexy, evil demon bitch. I had never been so lit up in my life. I re-coated my hands with oil, closed my eyes and kneaded those magnificent cheeks. I tried to imagine myself kneading pizza dough. It didn't work. I ended up biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I hated her with a passion at that moment. I was beginning to think my earlier dungeon thoughts would have been preferable. The pain helped so I bit my tongue. Hard.

I applied more oil and decided to cause a stir. This time I ran the side of my hand between her cheeks, deliberately along her anus. I wasn't tender and I didn't feign an accident. I saw her feet jump. No more of this slow, tender crap. My dick was killing me and anger and pain were the only things giving me a slight respite. I purposely dragged my hand up the crack and made sure her anus wasn't ignored. I saw her whole body twitch and her head snapped up. She turned on her side, ass away from my reach. 

"Knees!" she yelled. I dropped to my knees and dropped my eyes to the ground. I couldn't believe how hard I was breathing. At least I couldn't see her nakedness anymore. My poor cock was twitching, begging to be relieved. I closed my eyes and prayed for pain. 

I heard the whoosh and didn't flinch when my back was struck. I relished the pain. I leaned into it. It was wonderfully distracting. A sound came out of my mouth, not a groan, more like a relieved moan. Another whoosh, more powerful than the first, whistled by my ear and struck me on the breast. This time I emitted an "ahhh" as the blood began to leave my dick and return to my body. There wasn't a third strike and I desired a third.

"More," I begged. I had to lose my lust. I had gone this far and I decided I wasn't stopping now. I wanted the passion whipped out of me. I was answered with silence. Opening my eyes, I looked upward. She stood before me in her naked glory, with those full ruby red lips and her black crop in hand. She had confusion on her face. I took no pleasure from it, although I knew I should. 

"Please," I asked again. I was afraid my parts were going to burst. I wanted, for the first time in my life, to lose my erection. She raised the crop, thought better of it, and dropped it to her side. 

"Eyes down! Stay!" she ordered and then left the room. I have no idea how long she was gone. All I knew was that the silence and lack of visual stimulation slowly brought me back to normal. My heart rate lowered and I felt calm again. I had a difficult time understanding how I got to the point where I was begging to be whipped. I stored away the knowledge that she obviously did not enjoy me asking for it. I had gained another small piece of control. 

When the she devil returned she found me still kneeling and looking at the floor. It was a kind of therapeutic position for me at that moment. It allowed me to think without distraction and the slight pain in my knees helped me down from my pre-orgasmic cliff. She lay, ass down, on the table. 

"You will begin again," she said, "you will remain attentive and your fingers will be loving." She had limits to her domineering. I think she found my limit and was willing to take a step back, but wasn't going to admit it. I was surprised to hear the word 'loving.' It didn't seem to fit the arrangement she had devised. It was a good description of what I wasn't doing when I attacked her ass. 

I stood up, flexing my knees, to get the blood back in my legs. She was magnificent lying there. Her breasts had relaxed slightly toward her sides and her hair flowed over the pillow and toward the floor. She had removed her braid which gave her hair an attractive curl. Something was up. This woman was calculating. I promised myself I would remain wary.

"Where would Mistress like me to start?" I was back to the turn of the century. I smiled, feeling more like myself again. 

"Arms, shoulders, breasts, tummy then cunt. In that order," she stated without any reservation. My cock gave a twitch. 'You bitch,' I thought. She was trying to be more attractive. She was going to get me going again. She was going to 'brink' me to death. When she said 'loving' she meant slowly. 

"Yes, Mistress," I answered. I oiled my hands and tried to think of baseball. I hated baseball. I went to work on her arms, slowly like she demanded. I was able to keep my eyes off her parts and concentrate only where my fingers were. I knew this would only work until I got to her breasts, but it was working right now. My dick was pretty exhausted and, hopefully, desired to remain retired. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a knowing smirk. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch.' 

When I got to her shoulders, I had to stand over her head. My peripheral vision was catching her ruby lips and her breasts. My dick respected both as a sign of encouragement. I breathed slowly, trying to will my heartbeat to slow down. I brought my eyes down and saw only her lips. Those two ruby red lovely lips. She was pursing them ever so slightly. I glanced quickly at her eyes and I saw humor in them. Then she sighed, gently parting her lips. I took a long blink as my cock began to grow. At least its exhaustion was slowing its rebirth. When I opened my eyes again, she was tenderly biting her lower lip. 

"Mistress, please," I begged. She had me and she knew it. I should have tried to negotiate harder, maybe less time with more frequency. Twenty-four hours seemed beyond male endurance. 

"My breasts now." She ignored my pleas and kept up the pressure. Her smile took on that evil quality again. I applied a fresh coat of oil to my hands. I stalled by making sure they were well coated. I needed as many breathers as I could sneak in. I leaned forward, and as I did, I felt her unfurled hair tickle my prick. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt the soft caress from her tresses. A small half giggle escaped the bitch's lips. I started to move to her side, anywhere away from those ticklish brown strands. 

"Remain where you are and concentrate on the nipples," she ordered. "Tenderly," she added, probably remembering my previous ass work. Trying not to move my pelvis in any way, I began to tenderly massage her breasts. I carefully rolled the nipples between my forefingers and thumbs. I felt her hair drag across my growing erection.

"Mmmmmm, that feels nice," she cooed as she slowly moved her head from side to side, dragging her hair back and forth. 

"Mistress, please," I begged again. My cock was beginning to gain its previous vigor which bordered on scary. I wasn't sure how much I could handle before physical damage set in. I mean blue balls were one thing, black and blue had to be detrimental to fatherhood. 

"Tummy now," she instructed and gestured to her right side. I sighed as I moved quickly to the side and refreshed my oil. I intended to spend as much time as possible here. If you squint your eyes just right, you can form a little tunnel of vision that almost fully cancels your peripheral vision. I learned that skill at that moment. Her tits and pussy faded from view and I happily concentrated on her midriff. You had to appreciate whatever exercise program she was on. I could feel the muscles beneath the skin. If she were a man, it would have been a six-pack.

"I guess you, being male, have thoughts about my oily breasts," she said conversationally, "you probably want to know what it would be like to slide your cock between them." Visions invaded my brain. I dropped my squint and saw nothing but slick, shiny breasts.




The Lifeline



"Oh, God!" I exclaimed as blood flooded my dick again. She ignored my lack of honorific. 

"I suspect it would be warm having your cock enveloped between them. How long do you think you could last before you emptied yourself on my lips?" Her tone was nonchalant. My knees were getting weak and I felt a bit dizzy. I closed my eyes and started toward hyperventilation. I was struggling hard to get the image of her cum-covered lips out of my mind. It is extremely difficult to not think of something. 

"Oil my pussy now," she instructed. She lifted her knees and parted her thighs. I was working hard to mentally weaken my erection as I re-oiled my hands. I was failing miserably. "I like it really slick because you never know what may slide in there." My cock surged at her words. I almost reached down to empty it. A million dollars - that was what her contribution plus loan extension meant. It was only a million dollar case of blue balls. I bit my tongue, and as tenderly as possible, I massaged the oil on her pussy. I felt every ridge and the give and take of her tender, soft lips. I saw nothing with my eyes closed. 

"Use two hands. I want you to give me a nice, slow orgasm," she ordered. I went to work taking deep breaths, holding each for a few seconds, then letting them out slowly. My left hand was busy teasing her hood to excite her clitoris. I slowly inserted two fingers of my right hand into her warm opening. She needed no oil, her torment of me was enough to soak her whole channel. "Yes, that feels nice," she encouraged, "just like that, nice and slow." I wasn't going to make it. Even with my eyes closed, my senses knew where my hands were. I was going to blow my load and never touch my cock. There was only one solution.

"You're a bitch!" I announced and moved my butt toward the head of the table. The whoosh was almost instantaneous. She was waiting for me to crack. This time I gave her what she wanted, I cried out in pain as the crop found my ass. Her hips jerked upward. I yelled again when the second strike landed and I felt her pussy muscles clamp down on my fingers. The crop hit the floor as her orgasm took full control of her body. My left hand was moving rapidly, teasing her bud, as my right forced its fingers deeper. A loud moan echoed out to the balcony and her back arched high. The moan went up and down in frequency as waves of pleasure surged through her body. I struggled to maintain the assault with my fingers. 

When her hips dropped, I slowed my left hand to gentle caresses. My right went to a slow internal massage. She sighed loudly and lowered her knees. My need had dropped slightly while I had concentrated on hers. A strange inverse relationship. I carefully extracted my hands as her breathing slowed. I looked down her limp, sated body and somehow found it beautiful.

I reached down and picked up the crop from the floor. Like an idiot, I handed it to her. "I hope Mistress forgives me for calling her a bitch," I said with faux sincerity, "I sensed you needed some...encouragement." I was prepared for a few more well-placed swats. It was worth it for letting her know I had her number. Surprisingly, she took the crop and patted my forearm. 

"Your timing was excellent," she said with her warm, inviting smile. I tenderly pushed a sweaty strand of her hair from the front of her face to behind her ear. I had a strong desire to kiss those ruby red lips. I shook my head and looked away. The bitch had been torturing me for well over an hour. I wasn't going to start liking her now. I'll think about liking her on Monday when I am flush a million dollars. Twenty-four hours suddenly did not seem so imposing.

She sat up on the edge of the table. "You will bathe me now," she said as she returned to her controlling self. I was praying my dick saw this as a clinical operation. I was really concerned about how many unsatisfied erections a man can have in one day. Maybe a cock could just give up and never rise again. I was not a fan of this denial shit. 

When she stood, her foot went out from under her. I saw the back of her head moving quickly to meet the table. Without thinking, I reached out and she ended safely in my arms. I sighed in relief. The adrenalin pumped into my system made me shake a bit as I brought her to her feet. I didn't even notice we were naked and her breasts had been smashed into me until I had let go. 

It was the second time today that I saw confusion in her eyes. For a brief moment, she lost control and I became the controller. I don't know why I felt the need to get in a dig, but dig I did.

"Does Mistress have trouble saying thank you?" I smiled when I said it. It was an ironic smile that deserved a slap. I wanted to push her buttons since she had been dancing all over mine. I received something I didn't expect. 

"Thank you, Tony," she stated sincerely. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. It was the type of kiss a mother would give a child. The difference was my mother never had sexy ruby red lips. I found myself leaning into it and wishing it was more than the peck it was. 

"Now clean the floor. Your cock drool almost killed me." Her voice was instantly back to bitch. I grabbed a clean towel, and on hands and knees, began to wipe up the little trails of slime I had left around the table. I wondered if one could get dehydrated from losing fluid at this rate. I took my time with her standing behind me. She seemed to enjoy watching me naked as I cleaned the floor. I enjoyed holding off the inevitable return to suffering. Maybe I could do some laundry or something. 

When most people take a shower, it involves a tub with an overhead spout or some walk-in four-by-four plastic space. This woman liked her showers. It was a small room with multiple shower heads from two directions and some kind of rain maker hanging like a light fixture from the ceiling. There was a bench, not a seat mind you, but a five-foot-long black marble bench running along one wall. The walls, floor and ceiling were done in patterned tiles - not tiles with patterns, but patterns made from the different colored tiles. These patterns were tasteful with different styles layered in bands. There was inlaid shelving with plastic bottles and scrubbing implements. Natural light from frosted windows made the whole room look inviting. 

"Wow," I said, forgetting the 'Mistress' once again. I had never been impressed with a shower before. I really didn't know I could be. I saw no knobs where I expected them to be. Turning the water on and off was a mystery. I had a girlfriend once, many years ago, who really enjoyed making love in the shower. I could only imagine the orgasm she would have in a place like this. I hadn't thought about Betty in years. She left me for a bookkeeper who was a bit more marriageable. The break up was even in the shower after a bit of wet sex. She wanted one more wet romp. I was at her wedding five months later. Nice girl and I truly wished her the best, but showers had never been the same since.

Ms. Sampson stepped into the shower room and went to work on a flat panel embedded in the tiles near the front. Her fingers were a practiced blur as she brought up a series of choices and made selections before I could read what they were. She pushed a digital green button that appeared and the screen faded to black. Water began to rain down from the ceiling in a gentle, but obviously soaking manner. She stood at the entrance, waiting. I shrugged and waited with her. It was maybe fifteen seconds later when I heard the symphony start. It was one I thought I recognized, possibly Mozart. It had to be one of the big composers since my knowledge in that area of music was so limited. 

I could only assume the start of the music indicated the water had reached her desired temperature. As soon as the music had started, she swayed into the water. It was almost like she was giving me a little dance. I found it magical and very erotic. My dick was willing to ignore it in the increasing humidity. I moved behind her and into the rain. The water was a couple of degrees warmer than I would think perfect. It was obviously the exact temperature she desired. She soaked her hair under the rain and brushed it and the water away from her face. She grabbed a bottle of something from one of the nooks.

"Hair first," she said without respect. I took the bottle from her outstretched hand. She sat on the end of the bench, her legs extended into the warm rain. I put one knee on the bench so I could scoot closer and was surprised I didn't feel cold marble. The damn thing was heated! I poured an ample bit of shampoo in my hand and went to work. This had been Betty's favorite part. I would massage her scalp under the guise of shampooing, and by the time I was done, she would pin me to the wall in passion. I knew I couldn't re-live my shower romps with this bitch, but I could make her feel some of it. 

I worked the shampoo into her hair while paying close attention to rubbing her temples every time my fingers got close. I knew what that could do to Betty. I assumed it was doing the same thing to my demonic temptress. She leaned back into my hands and cooed a bit. Yes, it was affecting her. I liked the power it gave me, the knowledge that at least her nervous system was swooning over me. 

"Don't you dare stop," she ordered with a smile. I have little idea what women thought of me outside the bedroom, but none had ever complained about my pampering. I enjoyed the foreplay, the unselfish acts of passion that send a woman into the clouds. I employed those talents here. The longer I made her happy, the shorter time she had to devise more suffering. I couldn't have been more wrong. 

I watched her part her legs as she craned her neck into my fingers. Her hand moved sensually between her legs and a moan escaped her lips. I had never seen a woman pleasure herself before, at least not in person. Unfortunately, my cock began to appreciate the show. Unconsciously, I sped up my fingers.

"Slower," she ordered and leaned back to give me a view of her fingers disappearing. I tried not to look, but it was too wonderful to miss. "I brought a woman in here once," she said seductively. I scrunched up my eyes and hoped her story would end there. "She loved the warm water cascading down our bodies. My God, I loved her breasts. They were so firm with swollen pink nipples that just begged to be sucked." She continued her torture while her hand increased its tempo. I was rock hard again, trying desperately to keep my erection from brushing against her. Friction could end it all quickly. 

"The things she could do with her tongue." She continued to reminisce. "When she was between my thighs I could feel her tongue curving up inside me, taking me places no man could." 'Fuck me!' I was going to cum. I thought about going out in style, just grabbing my shaft and unloading across the bitch's breasts.

"I have to pee, Mistress!" I shouted. It came to me all at once. She had to let me pee. That was the loophole I was looking for. Give me a bathroom and ten seconds and I would unload. If I could rub one off the next twenty some hours would just float by.  

"With an erection like that, it's going to be difficult," she said and smiled knowingly. She turned her body toward me and pulled her fingers from between her legs. They were glistening with her moisture. "You haven't even let me finish; I was going to tell you how wonderful she tasted." With that she sluttily pulled her coated fingers across her ruby red lips. Involuntarily, I groaned. I dropped to my knees and formed fists with my hands.

"Please let me cum," I whispered. My cock was twitching of its own accord. This woman could put me on the edge at will. My company, my livelihood was in her hands. Her hand slapped my shoulder hard. I wasn't going to repeat the begging properly. Fuck her. "You win, bitch," I said and my hand went for my erection. I'd blow it right here in the shower, it was as good a place as any. She moved quicker than I thought possible. Her hand shot down and caught my wrist, not hard, just loosely grasped. Just enough so I stopped. 

"No," she said. She sounded desperate. "We'll take a break. I went too far, but a break like the last time will work." There was deep concern in her eyes. She wasn't trying to beat me, she just wanted the control. If I left, I would beat her. My cock surged at the thought. A break was no longer an option, the agreement was going to be void whether I wanted it or not. I stood slowly, a look of anger on my face. I was throwing away a million dollars and screwing up the lives of a lot of people. There was fear on her face.

I grabbed a handful of her shampoo-covered hair and pulled her head back and stepped forward. My lips were inches from those desirable ruby reds. "Please touch me," I growled. I don't know why I asked. A hand, shaking with fear, wrapped around my shaft and I felt my insides surge. Without permission, I merged her lips with mine. They were as full and soft as I had imagined. My hips exploded and I groaned into her mouth. I felt my long-suppressed seed eject from my cock. The relief was enormous, the pleasure beyond measure. I had never had an orgasm so fulfilling. Every part of me surged in blissful unison. Her lips responded as I exploded on her legs. I was in a momentary heaven. There wasn't a portion of my body that didn't tingle in exaltation. It was truly a million dollar kiss.

I broke the kiss when I came down from the clouds. She dropped to her knees in what looked like shock. "I'm sorry, you're way too sexy to ignore," I apologized between deep breaths. I was going to say more, but I had a company to to save. I left her there, staring dejectedly at the floor. I had made it to just short of three hours. She would have to pick someone with more control next time. 

>>>

I should have felt ill on Monday. I didn't. I had decided to throw caution to the wind. I couldn't come to the new thirty-day deadline with my employees ignorant of their fate. They had done too much to get me this far. It wasn't their fault venture capital had dried up. I called a meeting in the center of the room. The place where we would normally set up tables for Christmas parties or a future going-public celebration. I looked at the questioning faces, sucked up my pride and spilled.

"I was in negotiations this weekend to secure necessary funding. It collapsed and I have thirty days to find more." I had hidden the company's problems well. The surprise was evident on their faces. "I have confidence I can acquire the necessary funding, but should I fail, I didn't want you guys to be out of options. I would love for you all to stick it out, but I know some of you have families and other considerations." I paused a moment to collect my thoughts. I had thought a lot about this on Sunday and it seemed to make the most sense. 

"I would appreciate it if you spent half of your day on company business and the other half looking into your options. I will not dock your pay during this time. I can guarantee Friday's paycheck and the one that follows in two weeks. If things go south, the paycheck after that may be swallowed by our creditors so keep that in mind when you make your plans. I will sign any letters of recommendation and be happy to give you glowing references so this experience doesn't tarnish your careers." My eyes watered as I talked about the demise of something I had put so much of myself into. "I am so sorry it has come to this. It is not what you deserve, but you do deserve the truth." I dropped my eyes since I couldn't look at them anymore. It sounded better when I went through it Sunday night. 

Sarah hugged me and I felt worse. Tom, our accountant, called out, "I'll be here rain or shine, Tony. Just keep me up-to-date." There was a chorus of agreement which made me feel a bit better. 

"Ms. Sampson is back, Mr. Franklin," Sarah whispered and pointed toward the meeting room. I looked up and saw Lydia in her strict business attire, but minus her suited lackeys. Her eyes were almost as red as her lips. Something was amiss with the way she was standing. It looked almost uncomfortable, maybe less powerful. When she saw I had seen her, she ducked into the meeting room and closed the door. I looked back at the gathered faces where confusion and sympathy reigned. 

"I'll be right back," I said and headed to the meeting room. 

Lydia was slumped in one of the chairs. All her business propriety was sucked from her bones. I didn't think anything would affect this woman. At least not in public. 

"I want to try again," Lydia stammered, near tears. Her eyes were red from crying. She was suffering. How the hell did she drop so far so fast? 

"Lydia, my company can't be your plaything," I said with compassion, "too many lives are at stake. I am so grateful for the extra thirty days, but I can't hang my hopes on some kind of sexual performance." She reached for the conference phone and dialed.  

"Bradford National, how may I help you," the operator greeted.

"Lydia Sampson for Mr. Adams, please," Lydia requested. A pause followed so I took a seat. That was my company's bank, the one holding the loan. I was starting to think my thirty days were about to be rescinded. 

"Good morning, Ms. Sampson, what can I do for you?" Mr Adams queried.

"What's the status of the fund transfer?" she asked bluntly. 

"It has been completed. One million as requested in the Franklin, LLC account," Adams answered. I was floored. That was five hundred thousand more than agreed. 

"Thank you, Doug." Lydia hung up the phone and continued, "The agreement is complete, no strings attached."

"What...I don't...I'm not sure I understand," I stammered like an idiot. 

"I screwed up. I want another chance." She was near tears. "Please, Tony. I didn't know I affected you like that. It was just play." She wanted to tell me more. I sensed it and saw it in her eyes. She was afraid. "I..I haven't slept since you left me. I was just so stupid and kept going when you needed me not to." She was incredibly vulnerable. 

"I don't think I could do that again," I said honestly, "I go from hating it to loving it back to hating it..." She interrupted.

"See, there are parts you loved. We can do those again." This didn't sound like the woman who had me on my knees begging for relief. 

"I'm confused, Lydia." I was whispering to get her to lower her voice. I wasn't sure how much carried outside the room. "You only seemed to like it when I was suffering." Her head fell into her hands and then dropped to the table. She started sobbing. I walked around the table and sat next to her. I wasn't sure if my arms would help, but I couldn't just let her cry into the table. I pulled her into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm just not built for what you want."

"But you loved me," she sobbed in my ear. I was getting concerned about her mental state. I wasn't sure how she drew love out of the few hours we spent together. It was pretty much a one-way street of anguish in my book. There were a couple of pleasant pit stops, but they were short lived. 

"Lydia." I pulled her head from my shoulder and looked into her bloodshot eyes. "I never told you I loved you." 

"Not in words. With your hands. No one has ever touched me like that." She got a dreamy look on her face. "That massage...and when you washed my hair I thought I would melt away. Why would you do that if you didn't love me?" She was serious. 

"You ordered me to," I answered. She looked confused, like she was trying to see my meaning and couldn't put two and two together.

"But...but you didn't have to do it like that," she said slowly. I could almost see the wheels in her mind turning. "I saw how aroused you got. You never even hit me and you were so...ready." Hit her? Why would I hit her? She was hitting me. I pushed away from her a little bit which made her eyes panic.




The Lifeline



"Lydia, I don't like the whole hitting thing. I was willing to put up with some of it because of those people you saw out there." I pointed at the door. "I'm not certain what kind of relationship you are looking for, but I don't think I fit the mold." I was trying to be clear. The whole situation was just too surreal. Her head slumped forward.

"I didn't want you to leave," she said softly.

"I'm having trouble with this, Lydia. Why would I want to stay if you're denying me to the point of pain?" I was missing whole sections of her logic. 

"Guys always leave when they're done." Her tears started pouring out. "You left right after too. I didn't want you to leave." She was crying hard. I was in shock. I pulled her back to my shoulder and held her. It took a few minutes for her to regain control of her sobs. By then she had me in a death grip. It took me a few more moments to gently separate her from me. The woman just saved my business, and likely, a few lives waiting for me outside the room. I had no idea what kind of men she had been with before. They couldn't have been too attentive if I am the measure of the best. Well, she owed me for the torture and I owed her for saving all of us. 

"Lydia, I would like to take you to lunch," I offered while brandishing a smile, "and then dinner and possibly breakfast." Her face lit up. She dragged the back of her hand across her eyes to dry her tears. It only helped smear her mascara more. I tried not to laugh as I grabbed the box of tissues off the credenza. 

"Are you sure?" she asked, then quickly added, "I mean yes, I would love that." I guess she decided to not give me an out. I wouldn't have taken it. 

"Good. Now stay still a moment." I grabbed a tissue and tenderly held her chin. I wiped under her eyes, getting up as much as I could. It took a couple of tissues until I was happy with my work. Those gorgeous red lips were smiling when I was done. I chastised myself for ignoring her emotional state, but in my defense, those lips were something special. "May I kiss you?" I asked softly.

"Oh yes," she whispered. I tilted my head and brought my lips to hers. The memory of the shower kiss merged with this one in my mind. There was nothing holding us together anymore - no company, no loan, no money. My lips stayed because they could feel her apprehension and her joy. I stayed because I liked it. My hand caressed her face and moved behind her ear to pull her deeper. She complied with parted lips and a hesitant tongue. I met hers with mine, and when our tongues touched, a silent shiver echoed through my body. I stayed because I liked it a lot. 

When we finally broke the kiss, I felt a loss. I had a desire to ravish her right there. How the hell did this woman get me going so fast? "That was really nice," Lydia said and started moving forward. She wanted more as much as I did. I held her back and smiled so she knew it wasn't some kind of rejection.

"There are people outside," I said and caressed the back of her neck. She leaned into my hand and sighed. "Let's tell these guys the good news and I'll take you lunch," I suggested.

"Why do they have to know?" she asked with a shocked look on her face. It took me a second to realize where her brain was. I gave her a small laugh. 

"About their jobs. You just guaranteed them their paychecks." It was the first time I had seen her blush. Her cheeks almost matched the color of her lips. It was adorable. She stood up, embarrassed, and straightened her outfit. 

"Yes. Of course," she said as her control returned. She looked at me with soft eyes. "Are all kisses that...distracting?"

"Only the good ones," I answered. She blushed brighter. I was the one with control now and I had no intention of denying anyone anything. God, those lips looked good. I stood and straightened my clothes a bit. "Ready?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered. The change in her face was frightening. Lydia was gone and Ms. Sampson was back. She was in boardroom mode. I held the door as she exited, head held perfectly level as we moved toward the still-gathered employees. I saw Sarah wiping the side of her face. I really hoped she hadn't been in tears.

"It seems I was premature with my earlier statements," I said while forecasting my words with a smile, "Ms. Sampson and I have agreed to a partnership that has guaranteed the company enough funding to carry us way past the go-live date." There was applause and smiles. The smiles looked a bit mischievous and threw me for a loop. Sarah's smile was even more mysterious as she continued to wipe the side of her face. 

"We have a product to complete and millions to make," I announced happily. Sarah's hand was more frantic. Lydia rolled her eyes as realization kicked in. I looked over with my 'what?' shrug. Lydia reached for a tissue box on Tom's desk. She grabbed my chin, never losing her controlled business expression. The tissue came back red after she wiped my lips. I blushed. 

"And Tony's taking me to lunch," Lydia announced. I don't think I could have felt more awkward. There was a bit of laughing until Lydia turned around with her patented glare. "Grow up, people," she sneered. The laughter turned to smothered giggles. Lydia's face was as red as mine. She grabbed my hand, since there was no longer any point in a façade, and led me toward the door. 

"That was embarrassing," Lydia whispered when we put a few desks behind us. 

"It was your lipstick," I assigned blame with a silly grin. 

"Now everyone knows," she added. She tried to maintain her business demeanor for the eyes following us. 

"They're just jealous because I have a sexy lunch date," I quipped. 

"A date. This is a date?" she asked with surprise. I wondered what she thought it was.

"Kissing, sexy woman, lunch. Yeah, I would say it more than qualifies for a date," I responded as lightly as possible. Her smile grew, she wrapped her arm around mine and pulled me close as we finished our exit. She felt good next to me. I liked that she didn't care that everyone was watching. The business woman had left the building. 

I chose Antonio's, a small pasta place down the street. It wasn't the best food in the city, but sometimes the ambiance was the thing. There was a small table where a large pillared support blocked the rest of the room. The ceiling was low, which cut down on the reverb and allowed us to talk without repeating ourselves. It was suitably private. 

"I'm sorry about this morning, Tony," Lydia offered after the wine arrived, "I'm not used to...I guess I'm not used to liking people." 

"Come on, you must have some friends," I said cheerfully. The expression on her face told me it was the wrong thing to say. I lost my smile and put my hand over hers. "You have one now." That earned me a weak grin. I got up and changed seats, moving next to her instead of sitting across. "The only thing I really remember about this morning is the kiss. Everything else is kind of a blur." This white lie earned me a real smile. 

"It was really nice," she said sweetly, "I've decided I don't kiss enough." I puckered my lips obscenely and leaned forward. She laughed and lightly smacked my arm. "Men, not fish."

"Fish need loving too," I bantered. The waiter showed up with our salads so we had to take a break. We talked about our company while we ate the salads. It was surprising how quick her business mind was. It may have seemed like she just threw money at me. In reality, she had done her homework. She knew the potential and the pitfalls of the entire process. She had incredible connections that could really help the initial launch. By the time I had pushed the empty salad bowl away, I realized something.

"If I didn't accept your side deal, you were going to buy in anyway?" I asked. 

"Yes, but I really wanted to see you naked," she said with her evil smile.

"The million instead of half?" I queried.

"You really need to work on your negotiation skills. I thought you would demand more so I started low," she shrugged and continued, "to be successful, you really need the boost in working capital at launch. Without it, your sales will flounder for another year while competitors try to copy your product."

"You played me," I proclaimed. 

"It's what I do," she confessed as she reached out and caressed behind my ear, "are you mad at me?" It was the first time she had initiated a gentle touch. I could see the concern in her eyes. 

"No, I'm mad at myself for not seeing it," I chuckled, "I was actually vain enough to think it was all about me." 

"It is now, wasn't then," Lydia said casually. I was struck by her candor. I think she truly had feelings for me. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she throws a wrench into the works. "That's why I transferred the money early this morning. I didn't want you thinking I was holding it over you anymore." 

You want to know how to please a man? Just validate his existence. Here was the smartest business person I knew telling me my years of sweat were worthwhile. Her valuation of my, no, our company's potential was even higher than I had imagined. Demanding only forty-nine percent meant she knew my vision was necessary for that valuation. All this and I knew what she looked like naked. I surprised her with a passionate kiss. I felt her nervously looking around before she gave up and surrendered to my public affection. We were forced to separate when the waiter brought the main course. 

Food just tastes better when everything is going your way. Lydia was smiling at me while we ate. I don't think she fully knew how she had stroked my ego. It made it all the more sincere. "I'm going to have to get a different lipstick if you keep kissing me in public like that," she grinned. 

"Don't you dare," I said while leaving red marks on my napkin, "I'll just buy some handkerchiefs." I couldn't imagine her with anything but those kissable red lips. I saw something sparkle in her eyes when I defended the lipstick. Some thought went through her mind, something not meant for public discussion. She leaned in close to my ear.

"I would really like to take you home and not deny you," she whispered through a wicked smile. Blood flowed quickly at her words. I felt her hand on my crotch. "I love what I can do to you."

"Check, please!" I said a bit too loudly. As I said, it wasn't the best food in the city.

I drove Lydia home in my car. She had said she could make arrangements to pick up hers tomorrow. I think she was more interested in making sure my interest didn't wane. She wasn't overly aggressive, just simple caresses and a bit of snuggling to make sure I knew she was next to me. I found the attention to be very attractive. My interest did not wane.

When we entered the house, Lydia dragged me straight to her bedroom. "Sit," she ordered, pointing at the bed. She used her bitchy voice which kind of rankled me a bit. I chose to stand with a grumpy face instead. She smiled. "Please sit." This was her friendly loving voice. I sat quickly. She grabbed my foot and removed the shoe and the sock. She repeated with the other foot. Using her bitchy voice she ordered, "Belt." She held her hand out waiting for me to comply. I could have held out for her loving voice, but I liked where things were heading. I unbuckled it and pulled it through the loops. She took the belt and added it to the pile of my shoes and socks. 

Lydia pushed me onto my back and undid the button and zipper on the front of my pants. "Butt up," she ordered and I complied. She scooted my pants along with my boxers off my body and added them to the growing pile. I was half aroused at this point. I wasn't sure what she had in mind and was slightly fearful she was attempting a return to her tortuous ways. She walked over to her dresser and grabbed a small gold tube. She stood between my legs and removed her blazer and let it drop to the floor. Smiling, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it float to the ground. Her lace bra followed quickly. My cock was showing a bit more life. 

"I intend to apologize physically for my actions this weekend." Lydia's face was contrite. "I hope you can forgive me." I was about to say something about it not being necessary when she popped the cap off the gold tube and rolled up her ruby red lipstick. As I watched her expertly re-coat her lips, my arousal was more evident. She rubbed her lips together and looked down at me. Her lips were glowing with color, brighter than ever. "I intend to use my mouth," she breathed. 

"Oh shit," was all I could say. My erection pulsed and was now straining as I silently prayed this wasn't one of her tricks. 

She smiled at my erection. "I love doing that to you," she said as she dropped to her knees. Her lips inches from my manhood, she wrapped her hand around it. I felt my cock pulse as she ran her tongue up the underside and swirled it around the crown, her hand merely used as a guide. When those lips circled my erection, all thoughts of making this last flittered away. Those sliding ruby lips created a visual euphoria. I had seen this in my mind and the reality was infinitely more pleasurable.

Lydia's lips rose up and off my cock. She pursed her lips and lovingly kissed the tip. My thighs strained to not move, to let her continue, to make it last. My thighs were failing. Those lips engulfed me again, taking me deeper. I could feel her tongue pushing and lapping. I meant to warn her, give her the option, but I came too hard and too fast. My hips rose as I called out her name. She drove her lips down and took me as I spewed in her. Thoughts ceased as pleasure tore through my body. Lydia's cheeks sunk in as she drew in more of me, letting me ride my pleasure without guilt. She wanted this for me. 

Lydia kissed my sated phallus; little ruby pecks up an down the shaft. She knew what she had done, and she smiled that evil, devious smile. I could see those control issues swimming in her eyes. She did it without the crop, but she had me right where she wanted. This time, she would not get any argument from me. "Was that more to your liking?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered playfully. I loved the laughter it generated in her. She swatted my thigh, hiked up her skirt and climbed on top of me. 

"Are you going to stay?" Lydia asked with a forced smile. Her earlier comments came back to me. I couldn't believe how emotionally weak such a strong woman could be. I realized then how much risk she thought she had taken. There was apprehension bordering on fear in her eyes. I held back my cute smart-assed answer and stuck to the truth for her. 

"Yes," I answered with all seriousness, "I was hoping you would let me spend the night." I saw her eyes water before her lips smothered mine. I could feel her body shaking as we kissed. I held her tight, wanting to quell her unfounded fears. I originally thought of this as some kind of enjoyable therapy for her. No longer. I liked her in my arms. I liked her needing me. She was smarter than hell, but fragile as fine china on the inside. I even liked that fire of control burning inside her. She was my sexy enigma. 

I rolled her onto her side, her breasts to my chest. I pushed some errant hairs out her eyes and behind her ear. She shivered at my touch which, selfishly, I found pleasant. "I'd like to finish washing your hair," I said casually as I ran my hand along her brown tresses. Her smile was honest.

"I'd really like that," she whispered. I could see the titillation in her eyes. I was thinking wet sex. The shampooing was just an excuse to give me time to recover. It was a bonus that she also found it so enjoyable. 

Lydia tried to teach me about the shower controls. I found it fun to tenderly grope her as she tried to explain. She kept losing her train of thought, but never admonished me or tried to stop me. By the time she happily gave up, I was nearly as clueless as when we started. I doubted she would ever let me control it anyway. 

This time I did it right. I had Lydia lie on her back, along the heated bench, with her head hanging over my thighs at the end. The shower had a wonderful detachable shower head that I set to some kind of soft misting spray. I gently soaked her hair as she closed her eyes. It was wonderful having her in my lap as I applied the shampoo. She made some wonderful, half moaning, sounds as I worked the floral-scented goo into her hair. 

"So, last time we were here you were telling me about a girl," I hinted for the story. Lydia opened her eyes and gave me strange look. 

"Now you're interested in Glenda?" she asked.

"So she was real?" I quizzed. Lydia tried to sit up a bit so I gently pushed her down and went to work on the back of her neck. She relaxed again. 

"Yes. We own a very popular restaurant together," she continued, "she would come by again if I asked. Is that something you want?" That came out of left field and hit me squarely in the head. I was only hinting for the hot story, but this was an intriguing offer. That was one fantasy I never would have envisioned becoming real. Of course, in my dreams, it was always a one-night-stand with twins I would never see again. I wouldn't feel comfortable having an orgy with people I know.

"I don't think I want to share you with anyone," I said carefully, "would you think me a hypocrite if I just wanted to hear about it." It sounded stupid when it came out, but I think I got the point across. 

"You want to know about her or just the dirty parts?" She was smiling as I massaged her temples.

"Just the dirty parts." I smiled back. That garnered me a giggle, followed by a very dirty story. I have gotten worked up reading erotica. It was nothing compared to how worked up I got hearing Lydia, with no reservations, describe her shower escapade with Glenda. She left nothing out and I found myself breathing hard as I rinsed her hair. I am quite certain parts were embellished, but I accepted them as fact. I was, again, the man of steel.

"Look what my story did," Lydia bragged. She was softly caressing my erection. She stood up with a mission in her eyes. "Stay," she ordered and entered a series of commands into the control panel. I stayed. I was starting to enjoy her being bossy, at least when there was no denial at the end of it. 'California Dreaming' echoed through the speakers as the large central rain head shifted to gently cover me with warm water. She walked back in front of me, blocking a good part of the spray. "Time for a new story." Her voice was low and seductive. It promised everything. 

Lydia, facing me, put a knee on each side of me and lowered her hips toward mine. I shifted my butt to the edge of the bench to make it easier. She reached between her legs and guided my cock to her opening. The water cascaded over her shoulders and down my chest as she lowered herself onto me. She let go of my cock and moaned when she completed her descent. I echoed her sound. Lydia interlocked her fingers behind my neck and brought her lips to my ear.

"It's been a long time since I let a man inside me," she whispered forcibly. God help me, I liked it. 

"It's heavenly," I said and then it slipped. It came from out of my mouth without thought, "Mistress." It wasn't the joke I had laid on her earlier. It was sincere. Her pelvis stopped and she looked into my eyes. I saw fear in hers.

"I don't want to lose you," she fretted. I had no idea where this was heading. I only knew I felt good. I wanted her to feel good. I wanted to feel good with her.

"Then make me cum," I said with a devilish grin and added, "Mistress." Her eyes lit up and her grin turned devious as the ramifications warmed her. She was through pleasing me. She was going to please us. I felt her hands grab my hair and pull my head back as her pussy rose and fell around my cock. Her lips closed forcibly over mine as she took me. 




The Lifeline



Lydia's eyes were on fire with lust. It fueled my own, though I was in no position to help much. The grip on my hair was getting tighter and the pulling harder. I had no idea why I liked it or why she liked doing it. I just knew we did. She broke her violent kiss and yanked my ear to her lips. "We are going to cum together," she declared with intensity, "together, do you understand?" I felt my cock surge at her question. I wasn't sure I would be able to wait. 

"I'll try, Mistress," I stammered as Lydia's incredible hot channel smothered me in pleasure. I knew she could feel I was ready to explode. Maybe the dirty story wasn't such a good idea. I was just a bit farther along than she was.

"It's not an option," she declared. Her hips stopped on the downstroke and she started to grind her pelvis into me. I felt my cock touching new places inside her. I was on the verge. If we weren't being bombarded with water, sweat would have been pouring from my body. My breathing was labored. I felt her pelvis jerk involuntarily and her hand tighten on my hair again. At the second jerk she screamed, "NOW!" I let loose. The intensity, combined with the pain, was amazing. Lydia was holding herself up by my hair as waves of pleasure jerked through her body. Each jerk of her hips forced another surge from me. We were in perfect, painful, blissful unison. 

Lydia let go of my hair and almost collapsed backward onto the floor. I caught her in time and pulled her into my arms, my cock still buried deeply. I had no idea where my desire for her control came from. I just knew I loved it. In a weird juxtaposition, I grabbed her by the hair and took a kiss from her lips. "That was fantastic!" I interjected with force. Her sleepy eyes looked at mine.

"Yes, it was wonderful," she said and then smiled, "Master." She collapsed in my arms and I held her in the warm, pouring rain. 

Dinner was a small affair. Just the two of us, curled up on the couch with takeout Chinese. We were in matching pink terry cloth robes. Lydia's fit a lot better than mine. Pink just isn't my color. We were watching a John Wayne movie, one of his first in color I believe. It was basically background noise as we ate, talked and laughed. Lydia opened a bottle of wine and we talked some more. We didn't say a word about the company or sex. It was just about getting to know each other. I loved it and I loved that I had her to myself. I had crossed some really weird sexual boundaries with her. She now knew more about me than anyone else in the world. I think I am the only one who knows about her fine china insides. 

Bedtime brought more. More of us. I was waiting for her in the bed. I had plans, tender plans. I wanted to go to sleep with memories of her softness, her yielding to my slow love making. She came nervously out of the bath room. I think she almost went back in, but then decided to come to my side of the bed. I held out my hand, wondering where her fear was coming from. When she dropped her robe, I saw her risk. Above her left breast, over her heart, she had written 'Tony's' in ruby red lipstick. What came out of me was the truth.

"I love you too," I agreed. I think she was holding her breath until that point. She fell into my arms and I pulled her into me. I was the glue for her fine china. 

Lydia, at first, was much better than any alarm clock. The giggling and nibbling at my ear was a wonderful way to wake up. There just wasn't a snooze button on her. She was a morning person. I'm a slow to wake up kind of guy. It usually takes three or four pushes of the snooze button before I finally give up and rise to my feet. Lydia was already showered and dressed and the first rays of the sun hadn't even made it through the window. I rolled over and away from her lovely assault. Maybe she would give me another ten minutes. The blankets and sheets suddenly disappeared from the bed. My warmth disappeared and I curled into a ball. I heard the whoosh before the sting struck my ass. I snapped up to protect myself and saw her, all innocent and smiling, with her hands behind her back. 

"You whipped me," I accused. She took a step back, her lovely red lips smiling. I stood and took a menacing step forward. I had intentions of turning the crop on her butt to see how she liked it. 

"You've got a company to run, Lover," she said while taking another step back. I looked at the the clock and remembered where I was. I was probably going to be late. Revenge would have to wait. 

"Crap," I conceded and moved quickly to the shower. I smelled like Lydia. I wished I could have just wallowed in it, but coming in late smelling of sex didn't sound like a good idea. Thirty seconds later I had to suck up my pride. "How do you turn this damn thing on?" I yelled. Her laughter was both annoying and wonderful. 

"I want to take you out to dinner tonight," Lydia said from the passenger seat. She had decided to ride back with me to her car. "Then I want to see your place." Ms. Bossy was back. You put a girl in a pencil skirt and blazer and suddenly she thinks she rules the world. I knew her well enough now to understand she was actually asking, not demanding. 

"My place is a pigsty compared to yours," I warned. I was trying to remember how trashed it was. I couldn't remember the last time I gave it a good cleaning. 

"That's fine. I intend to be very dirty there," she smirked, then smiled. My mind perked up and I felt a little of last night's horniness return. 

"Ms. Sampson, are you marking your territory?" I teased. She actually thought about it. 

"Yes, I do believe I am," she responded. Her ruby smile was delicious.

"In that case, I accept your invitation for dinner." I loved the idea of her claiming me. Normally, I would feel smothered. With Lydia, it was just her need to control which I knew was more fragile than she let on. Or, maybe, she just had me whipped in more than one way. 

Sarah gave me a strange smile when I walked past her desk. She got up, followed me into my cubicle and smirked when I turned to see what she wanted. "Did you have a good time last night, Mr. Franklin?" she asked with knowing eyes. I was a bit embarrassed by the question. Was I that transparent?

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I said innocently. I turned to some mail on my desk in hopes she would let the awkward conversation drop. 

"May I?" she chirped, holding up a tissue she had brought with her. I am sure I blushed as I nodded my head. She grabbed my chin like a concerned mother and wiped lipstick off my cheek. I really had to get a few handkerchiefs. "Same clothes and unshaven," she smirked as she released my chin. "I don't think you made it home last night." 

"Are all women this observant?" I asked in my friendly air. 

"Only the ones who care about you, Mr. Franklin," she answered with a wink. She turned and returned to her desk. If there was any reason to make this company work, it was right there. I needed to see her flush with cash and not the least bit concerned if one of her kids got accepted to Harvard. I spent the rest of the day hard at work. Now that I didn't need to worry about capital, I was actually highly productive. 

I began the implementation of the ideas Lydia and I had talked about. Most seemed obvious now that they had been in my brain a day. She really had a head for business. I went around and spoke to everyone, assuring them of our stability. I had more than a few smiling stares that let me know I wasn't holding any more secrets. I gave Bob the green light to hire an assistant. I thought the man was going to hug me. I did it to speed things up and redundancy in case anything happened to Bob. He thought I did it to lower his overwhelming workload. Selfishly, I let him think his version was correct.

Sarah hung up the phone as the afternoon wound to a close. She brought a note to my desk with another of her strange smiles. "She's kind of bossy, but I don't think she means to be," she said, handing me the note. The note contained the name of a restaurant, 'The Reef,' an address and a time of six o'clock. How did Sarah figure out Lydia so fast?

"You figured that out from a dinner reservation?" I asked incredulously. 

"We talked for over thirty minutes." Sarah suppressed a giggle. "Can't hang up on a partner. Anyway, I like her." I smiled at Sarah's assessment.

"I like her too," I agreed, "you two aren't sharing stories about me, are you?" I was sure Lydia would keep our dalliances private. I was afraid my character flaws might be the source of shared amusement. I didn't want to walk around the office blushing all day.

"I think I have been prompted to head spy." Sarah seemed pleased. "I keep an eye out for any competition and report. She really likes you."

I was blushing. "Are all women this scheming?" I asked. 

"Only the ones who care about you, Mr. Franklin," she answered with a wink, "I suggest you leave early and get cleaned up. That black shirt you wore about a week a ago looks really good on you." I wondered if that was Sarah or Lydia talking.

"Sarah?" I asked with a fake ominous tone.

"Yes, Mr. Franklin?" she quizzed while smiling. I couldn't pull anything over her eyes.

"Call me Tony," I stated firmly. Might as well make these conversations easier. And I thought the black shirt made me look dopey. 

"Thank you, Tony," she smirked as she walked smiling to her desk. Secretary, spy and fashion police. I was in good hands.

I was right on time when I walked into the 'The Reef.' I didn't think I would make it. Parking was more difficult than I had assumed. The restaurant was in an old section of town that was built before the automobile took over the nation. I ended up waiting in line for valet service. As expected, Lydia was waiting at the table. Her smile was genuine and most welcome. It was a public venue so I satisfied myself with only kissing her cheek. 

"You look nice," Lydia commented. I chastised myself for not saying something first. 

"Thank you. It seems I have a fashion consultant at work," I commented conspiratorially. 

"I really like Sarah," Lydia beamed, "very organized and seems to know you well."

"Well you may be happy to know she approves of you too." I grinned. "I am beginning to think I am being handled." 

"All men are handled, Sweetie." Lydia's eyes were glowing. "Some more than others." Her hand found my thigh beneath the table, a little higher than friendly. She withdrew her hand after a tender squeeze that promised more later.

"Did I mention how beautiful you are?" I found her little squeeze a bit more exciting than she had calculated, "I'd love to take you home right now and devour those red lips." I made her blush, in public. Her hand went back, and higher toward my crotch. She snapped it back when she felt my arousal. 

"Oh, I love that I do that to you" Then Ms Bossy showed up. "Dinner first, then dessert," she ordered firmly. I could wait, if I had to. Suddenly her expression changed and she quickly placed the palm of her hand against my cheek, "Unless it's urgent, I mean...I don't want...you know, make it hurt." Her concern was evident. I saw her apprehension, her fear borne out by our first day together. Screw the public. I pulled those ruby lips to mine and made sure she knew there was no risk here. She melted into me. I could feel her relief and control return. 

"Dinner first, dessert later," I whispered when I broke the kiss. I loved the look in her eyes. That 'I got you' look. I knew I was in for one unforgettable night. 

I was startled by a woman staring at our show of affection. A rather nicely dressed, mature blonde, standing at the edge of the table with her mouth open and confusion in her eyes. She wasn't dressed like a waitress. Lydia laughed and quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe the lipstick off my lips. This seemed to further shock the woman.

"Tony, this is Glenda. My partner in this wonderful bistro," Lydia said with a devious, 'I rule the world' smile. "Glenda, this is Tony." I think she meant to add something else at the end of her statement. She thought better of it and ended the sentence early. My mind kept flashing to visions of Glenda between Lydia's legs. I was being teased by a professional. 

"Hello, Glenda," I said, not rising from my seat. She was in enough shock without seeing the raging hard-on I was sporting. 

"Nice to meet you, Tony." Glenda almost made it sound like a question. "Lydia, you didn't tell me you were bringing a guest." Glenda's surprise began to evaporate and was replaced by an honest smile. She kept looking between Lydia and me, obviously trying to figure us out. Lydia ignored her comment.

"Tony, wait until you try this woman's food," Lydia insisted, with pride in her voice, "it will make your mouth water. Best investment I ever made." The statement seemed to put Glenda back into shock mode. She didn't seem accustomed to praise from Lydia.

"I'm looking forward to it." I tried not to noticeably shift in my seat. My pants were suddenly uncomfortable. Lydia was going to pay dearly for this. I vowed to enjoy every moment of my retribution. I wondered if Lydia had exaggerated the length of Glenda's tongue. 

"I'll get your waiter." Glenda's composure returned, along with her inviting smile. "And see if I can't speed up the kitchen a bit." 

"Thank you, Glenda," Lydia said, almost sounding like she was dismissing her. Glenda headed in search of the waiter. 

"That was particularly evil, " I claimed. 

"I thought you might need some context. A story without context is, well, just a story," Lydia explained.

"You do realize what I am going to do to you when I get you alone," I threatened.

"I'm counting on it," Lydia mused, "I decided I wanted to be ravished tonight. Of course, if it is all too much, I could take you in the back room right now." She was absolutely serious. I guess that denial thing was going to hang over us for a while. As long as I knew the end was in sight, my urges could be quelled. 

"Oh no. This will take some time to plan," I teased, "ravishment is an art, not a science." I think I saw her squirm a bit. Maybe I wasn't the only one with an embarrassing lap. 

Dinner was as good as Lydia had described. I had the tastiest fresh grouper roasted over a bed of collard greens. It practically melted in my mouth. Glenda sent over the perfect wine to go with our meal to complete the feast. Lydia and I talked, laughed and genuinely enjoyed each other. I liked dating this woman.

Just before the end of the meal, Lydia excused to herself to use the restroom. She had been gone for only a few seconds when Glenda slid quickly into Lydia's seat. "What have you done to her?" she asked with a beaming smile. 

"Pardon?" I knew what she meant, but I wasn't sure how to answer. I stalled. 

"I've never seen her so happy," Glenda admitted, "come to think of it, I haven't seen her show anything but 'bitch' in public." I guess she thought I would understand her comment. That I wouldn't take it as an insult to Lydia. I did understand. I decided I would tell the truth.

"I guess it's because I love her," I said with a straight face. Glenda's face beamed.

"My God, I think she loves you too," she affirmed, "I didn't think anyone would ever get under that shell. Please don't break her heart. I, for one, would not want to be around for that." I couldn't hold back my laughter. I had an image of an angry Lydia roaming the world and waves of people knocked prone in her wake.

"What's so funny?" Lydia was standing behind us with hands are her hips. Glenda cringed. I smiled and leaned my head back. 

"Just talking about you, my love," I said with endearment. I watched Lydia's grimace melt away. She gave me an upside down kiss and sat down in an empty chair. Glenda looked like she didn't want to be there anymore. 

"Am I allowed to know what was said?" Lydia queried with her 'I-better-get-an-answer' expression. Glenda didn't know what to say. Modified truth was the key, all the good parts with some slight omissions. 

"I told Glenda I love you. She told me I better not break your heart." I so enjoy when I'm right. A wet-eyed Lydia embraced Glenda like they were long lost friends. Glenda's confusion was entertaining to say the least. Their relationship had never gone past the sex. From what I could tell, none of Lydia's past relationships meant anything to her. Until me, they were all a means to an end and nothing more. 

"This doesn't mean you can miss your numbers this quarter," a tearful Lydia said while wiping her eyes. Glenda smiled when the more familiar Ms. Bossy showed up. 

"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you Mis...Sampson." Glenda caught herself and lost her smile. Her eyes moved to me then guiltily away. For her sake, I pretended I didn't notice. Happily, Lydia did the same. 

"I am so happy for the both of you." Glenda recovered quickly and stood. "I have to check with the other guests, so enjoy the rest of your evening." We gave our gracious goodbyes as she headed off, checking tables along the way. When she was out of earshot I turned to Lydia.

"Your story left me with the impression she was more like a girlfriend," I said with a twinkle in my eyes.

"I thought you would like it better that way," Lydia said, wearing her evil smile again. She leaned toward my ear and whispered, "I didn't think you wanted to hear about the stripes I put across her butt or how much she learned to enjoy them." I felt shiver go through me. 

"Really?" I stuttered. New visions appeared behind my eyes. 

"The girl is deliciously messy when she cums," Lydia whispered, while tickling my ear, "the sight of her withering and coating the sheets was so beautiful." Life with Lydia would never be boring. My cock simply loved her voice. 

"I'm taking you home now," I informed her. It might be an embarrassing walk to the car, but waiting was no longer desirable. 

"I thought you would never ask," she mewed.

"I didn't," I said with false bravado. Lydia laughed and let me think I was in charge.

That night and the following nights and days were the best of my life. We learned each other's boundaries and then expanded them. For me it was a whole new world. For her it was a whole new universe. I saw her red lips in my dreams. They were good dreams. I was always amazed when those ruby reds woke me in the morning. The company was on the same fast track as my heart. My team was on a roll. Everything we did came up smelling like roses. We were all seeing dollar signs.

Friday night was my first lull in paradise. Lydia had a previous commitment. I actually felt good about it. I wasn't sure we could maintain the pace we were setting. That, plus she said Saturday would be all mine. I figured I could lend her to the world for one night. I spent Friday night doing laundry and cleaning my apartment. I had to laugh at the irony. Here I was in a committed relationship, yet all alone on a Friday night. My poor penis could use the break anyway. 

I pulled up to Lydia's house on Saturday morning. Needless to say, I was in a pretty chipper mood. We had plans to take a walk through the zoo and go out for lunch or dinner, whichever crept up on us first. Unplanned sexual encounters were a given. Although I was beginning to sense Lydia actually planned most of them. I accepted the illusion because it suited me.

My life shattered when I opened the door. Lydia was naked and kneeling on the cold marble in the center of the entry hall. Her hands were behind her back and blood was leaking from her mouth. She was repeating 'I'm sorry' like a mantra as she stared into space. I froze for a second, thinking maybe it was some kind of stunt. I snapped myself out of it and ran to her, calling her name. She had bruises all over her and her eyes didn't see me. I pulled her to me in an attempt to find her. She was hyperventilating her mantra and didn't even know I was there. My heart broke. Someone shattered my china angel. 




The Lifeline



I held her as I wrestled the phone out of my pocket. Two strong hands grabbed my shirt, lifted and flung me into the wall. The small of my back hit the credenza, momentarily paralyzing my spine. My phone flew away. Through the stars, I saw a mountain of a man was moving toward me. I forced myself to my feet, trying to form some kind of defense. More quickly than I could react, a large hand wrapped around my neck and pinned me against the wall and began to lift me. The other hand drove into my stomach. I was suffocating on my own vomit. 

"So you're the fucker who filled my sister's head with crap," he growled. His eyes didn't leave room for mercy. I struggled to pull his arm, to lessen the strain on my neck. "She's mine, you little puke. She always has been." His statement was followed by another fist. I couldn't breathe enough to cry out. 

Survival does strange things to the mind. It brings back memories of things you hadn't thought about in years. I had a self defense class once, four whole hours in the Army. It was just before our unit was deployed to Korea for a stint on the DMZ. "Americans don't fight fair," the sergeant said, "we use technology and logistics to kill our opponents before they even know they are in a fight. As always, things get fucked up and you may find yourself in a fair fight. The North Koreans don't have our tech or any bullets to waste. They're pumped up with hand-to-hand training. I have four hours to teach you how to survive a fair fight. Unfortunately, it would take years so I am going to teach you how to cheat." I could still hear his raspy voice. "You are going to use whatever you find as a weapon. Your helmet, swung by the chin strap makes a wonderful mace. Swung hard enough, it will break bones. Your web gear is sporting a canteen full of water. It will be your flail. Whatever you do, don't try to 'Rambo' these guys with your fists. You will outmatched. Beat them to death with the butt of your rifle. Anything to keep them an arm's reach away. If all else fails, I want you to remember eyes and ears. Fuck up their eyes and they will let you go. Ears peal off like banana peels; they will let you go." 

All else had failed. I was slowly dying. I let go of his arm, sunk deeper into the strangle and then grabbed his ears. His scream was louder than I expected when I tore with all my might. The sergeant was right - he let go. I dropped his flesh and grabbed the lamp off the credenza and swung. The sound was sickening as the base of the lamp sunk into the side of his face. He dropped to his knees and collapsed to the floor. There was silence except for Lydia's chant. I dropped the lamp, then my breakfast. 

I crawled, gasping, to my phone. Everything had died. All my dreams, at least the ones that mattered, had fled me. I dialed 911 and crawled back to my shattered love. She couldn't see me or hear me. Everything that was her had collapsed away. I held her there until they pulled me away, her mantra still echoing. I broke then. 

The months that followed were a preview to hell. Tabloids caught wind of the story and the mainstream press followed. Salacious stories fed the nation. Wealth, incest, rape, beating and Lydia lost in nowhere. She was what her brother had created. Just a bitter shell forged through years of torment. I found her in there and then, in one morning, lost her. The world was black to me; there was no color. 

I threw myself at the company. A dictatorship was born of hate that had nowhere to go. I wanted and needed others to feel my pain. I left early one morning, after I had driven Sarah to tears. I walked the streets and found some minor relief from the anguish.

Both the clerk and the artist tried to talk me out of it. They had heard the stories and recognized my face. Money bought the pain. Their greed overrode reason. I relished it. It was my 'riding crop' of choice. 

I returned that afternoon as half myself. I apologized, through my tears, to Sarah. I gave more stable apologizes to others. They all understood, but they would never fully understand. I returned for more pain the next day. I loved the feel of being carved into. It let me remember her and forget what I saw that Saturday morning. I missed my bitch. 

They wouldn't let anyone see her that first month. I was crushed when she refused to see me the next. I added more pain to my day. It was not going to be enough. It was Glenda who found me, drunk and on the roof of my building. I wasn't going to jump, although falling was a distinct possibility. She, the only person who knew the half of it, held me. 

"No one knew, Tony," she said to my drunken stupor. 

"He broke her because I wasn't there!" I yelled. I didn't move from her arms. They reminded me of Lydia's.

"Just give her time. Our Lydia will be back and ordering us around in no time," she reasoned and held me tighter. I couldn't help but laugh at that. That first day with Lydia had been a curse. I would trade all the days, from this one forward, to just live that curse again. At least Glenda understood.

We spent the afternoon trading Lydia stories. In her own way, Glenda loved Lydia. Lydia drove the success of 'The Reef' and exposed Glenda to parts of herself that had lain hidden. Lydia had feared uncontrolled touching. Glenda had been too forward once and caught the brunt of Lydia's anger. It was my massage, the one I copied from the cruise ship, that began to eat at her shell. The slow start and controlled gentleness. It fed her repressed need for human touch. Her confusion, mixed with anger, when I roughly handled her butt made sense now. Much of Lydia made sense as we talked. 

"I just wish she would allow me to visit," I said as the alcohol slowly evaporated from my system. 

"Do you think that would stop her?" Glenda asked firmly. "If you told her she couldn't see you, do you think it would even slow her down?" I smiled at the thought. I had been wallowing in self pity while the woman I love wallowed in hers.

"Fuck no!" I answered, "she'd bankrupt me and have me crawling on my hands and knees to beg forgiveness." Glenda nodded with a knowing smile. I gave Glenda a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to get my bitch back." 

Lydia was in private facility outside the reach of the press. It was the best money could buy. It looked more like a country club than a psychiatric hospital. I entered the visitor section on a Monday, with a Kindle loaded to the brim. I had a plan - it would take a few days to implement. I knew stubborn and her name was Lydia. 

"Please inform Lydia Sampson that Tony Franklin is here to visit." I already knew what the nurse's response would be, but in a place like this, the request would make it to Lydia. I sat down and got comfortable in the waiting room. I read. 

I repeated the same request after lunch, and sat and read some more. For two more days, I repeated the process. It was a bonus that I was able to eat into my reading list. On the fourth day I baited the hook. 

"Please inform Lydia Sampson that Tony has not been to work for four days." The nurse's eyebrows raised at my request. "Word for word if you would be so kind." I sat down and began to read. I didn't even get to finish a chapter.

"Mister Franklin," the nurse said. She had smile on her face. I think we had bonded over the last few days. "Dr. Hawkins would like you to see him in his office." I stood with a rather smug look on my face. My girl was still concerned about her investments. She couldn't be all gone. 

"Mr. Franklin.." I quickly interrupted the doctor.

"Tony, please." I was still a bit smug. 

"Okay, Tony," the doctor continued, "Ms Sampson has agreed to meet with you as long as I am present. I think she wants me to act as a buffer. You may not be pleased with the outcome." I smiled at the doctor. He had no idea what Lydia needed. She needed her shell back and this idiot was probably trying to destroy it forever. 

"You won't mind if I remain a bit more optimistic, do you?" I sounded like an asshole, but it was what Lydia would say. She would just look better doing it. The doctor lost the fake friendliness he was trying to project. 

"Her shame is deep, Tony. I don't want you undoing how far she has come." The doctor was spouting regular treatment. It would never work with Lydia. She needed my glue to put her back together. "Keep your comments to the 'today' - don't make any promises that may not be kept. She needs stability and strong truths - not dreams." 

"Did she specify that I should be told what to say?" I was getting cocky. I saw the irritation on the doctor's face as he realized I may not be cooperative. This is how it felt when Lydia threw around her weight. It was a bit intoxicating. You just concentrate on your goal and screw all those who try to slow you down. 

"Okay. I'm letting you know now that I advised her against this." The doctor was seething, but I was elated. "It's my opinion that your type of relationship won't do her any good. She needs a more traditional relationship now." I smiled at his ignorance. "Well, I've warned you the best way I can. I'll act as a mediator and you will get your say. Keep the visit cordial and please don't antagonize her if she doesn't see it your way."

"No antagonizing. Got it, Doc." I smiled at his sigh. I was having more fun than I should. The doctor was a pompous ass anyway. He picked up his phone and told his secretary to let Lydia in. 

Lydia walked in and I tried not to grimace. She looked like she had folded into herself. She said "hi" weakly, with an added dose of shyness. I just nodded my head and watched her walk slowly, almost shamble, to the other side of the couch. A good four-foot chasm of leather separated us. I let the idiot direct the conversation. He spent a few minutes monologuing about healing and new beginnings. It went in one ear and I puked it out the other. I guess he decided to move into some emotional building exercises. His mistake, not mine. 

"Now, Lydia, when you look at Tony, what do you see?" he asked clinically. I looked at Lydia who was struggling to look at me. Her shame was evident; her strength had been torn away. 

"Fear," she said softly, "maybe shame and loss." She covered her eyes before she finished. Even her lips had lost their luster. "This is harder than I thought," she told the couch. 

"This is how we heal, Lydia," the doctor consoled. Then he made his second mistake. His first was letting me in the room. "What do you see when you look at Lydia, Tony?" 

"Forever," I answered quickly and clearly. I was staring directly at Lydia, unwavering in my devotion. Her head snapped up at my word. 

"Can you clarify that?" the doctor nervously inquired. 

"and ever," I was ready for the ass. These 'touchy-feely' guys are all the same. Too many words, not enough feeling. Lydia was staring at me. I saw her strength building.

"I thought we talked about promises, Mr Franklin." The doctor was getting more irritated. I think he felt I was ignoring him. 

"No matter what?" Lydia asked with a bit more clarity. Her body leaned toward mine. I was her glue. 

"Yes," I said. I never took my eyes off hers. I saw her apprehension fading which caused me to smile. She smiled back. It was her friendly, inviting smile. We were almost there. 

"I think I am going to have to end..." I interrupted the good doctor before his therapy screwed up my girl for life. 

"Shut the fuck up!" I ordered with venom. I was wearing my 'I'll-rip-off-your-ears' face when I turned toward him. Surprisingly, he shut the fuck up. I returned with my smile back to Lydia. She had crawled fully onto the coach and was inching toward me. I made no move toward her. I waited.

"No matter what?" she repeated as she inched even closer. Her smile and eyes changed to a more forceful look. More of her was back. There was only one more thing to say. 

"Yes, Mistress." I put everything I had into those two words. I heard the doctor gasp. Lydia surged forward and into my arms. Her eyes were alive again. She nuzzled her cheek next to mine.

"I need to tie you up, restrain you," she whispered. I could feel her need for control. She had lost so much in the last two months. 

"There's a hardware store a couple miles down the road." I was committed. She was worth everything. 

"I might hurt you." She was almost sobbing when she said this. She cradled my head in her hands and looked at me with wet eyes. She was tormented with the need to fully control me and the need to love me. All I saw was the love. 

I reached up and pulled at the collar of my t-shirt, almost ripping it, to expose my left breast. An elaborate tattoo spelling out 'Lydia's' was above my heart. Intricate art, born from hours of pain. I desired her beyond reason and would accept whatever she needed from me. I welcomed it. 

Lydia stood up smartly and looked at the doctor with disdain, "I'm leaving, Doctor." The bitch was back. The doctor wisely just nodded. I think I spotted a bit of fear in his eyes.

It took us less than fifteen minutes to make our exit. The normal anal packing was ignored in favor of the stuffing method. When she zipped her suitcase something crossed her mind and she looked at me with serious eyes. 

"Is it okay if we never talk about my family?" she asked. She didn't like the 'touchy-feely' approach to healing either.

"I would prefer if we never talked about them," I answered. I cursed the day I had met her brother and I suspected the rest of her family would suck as well. Lydia smiled and grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled my lips to hers. I felt her strength in the kiss and it traveled directly to my groin. She pulled my lips away and pointed at her suitcase. I smiled and picked it up. 

"I'll hurt you because I need to. I won't deny you," Lydia said with a wicked smile, "we need to stop and pick up some lipstick." It had been two months since I had had an erection. My cock was making up for lost time. "I love that I do that to you," she purred as she glanced between my legs. 

The night was exquisite.