0 comments/ 3902 views/ 2 favorites The Exec By: fadedgiant He had a reputation that preceded him. He was the youngest executive at 35 years old the organization ever promoted. He knew the business from janitors to the executive suite. He was friendly and genuinely wanted the best for his employees. He was attractive, chiseled from gym workouts, over six feet three inches, and spoke in well-educated English. He was also multilingual. There were other stories about him but I'm not one to share rumors. I was an executive assistant and often traveled as part of an advance team for company expansion and site preparation. I am also in my mid 30s, tall, having degrees in engineering and organizational communication. My daily transactions have me interacting with him often. Neither of us is married and never has been. Career seems to be both our common ground and we are well off in our career goals. Both of us have put our social lives on hold. We were developing plans for a new facility, one that would triple our product saturation in three years. The facility was to be on par with large scale manufacturing with expansion capabilities when the need arrived. I was on a site trip away from our home office when I got the call. The call was one that no one wants to receive; it was the call that changes everything. "There's been an accident. Fortner is dead." Fortner was our chief executive and my boss. With the new level of turmoil in the company, several major projects went into a hold. I returned to HQ with my plan to see the company get over this hump. I knew there had been no executive transition plans developed and no one knew what to do. I had to get out of engineering mode and get into communication mode. I began drafting several communications for release and forwarded them. ********** The dust began settling and it became clear to me that a coup was underway. Despite my connections, I was on my way out. Fortner protected me and his death changed the completion of everything. When they offered me a multimillion-dollar buy out, I took it. Being suddenly financially secure meant new opportunities that I had not considered. I was in the news for a couple days as an example of a woman receiving equal treatment as men getting bought out. I decided it was time for me to take a couple years off from work and experience some of the things I missed when I was younger, like 33 is old. I'd had the occasional boyfriend and a love interest or two; however, I never felt the need to pursue long-term relationships because I loved my job. That taken away made me realize that there is life after corporate America. I made several careful investments that would begin paying handsome interest almost immediately. The decision made, I felt as though the universe began to conspire to make my decision happen. With just the necessary essentials, I began seeing life as something to live and enjoy. I keep myself fit and I am the same size six I was as a senior in high school. My light brown hair shown almost blonde in the sun. My green eyes were clear. My past boyfriends told me I have a very kissable mouth. I am not busty, 34B, yet my breasts have not experienced gravity. I have a trim waist at 23, and hips at 35. I have trim legs from miles of jogging. I guess I would have to call myself attractive but never put a lot of time into making myself more so, now I was going to. I splurged for a professional make over. My tidy little house was all I needed and I had no mind to change. My neighborhood was filled with people my own age, mostly married, and with children. A couple single men lived near by but, just as modern society would have it, I really only knew them by sight, not by name, or other personal details. I sought out neighbors to become better acquainted with and discovered how much I enjoyed having coffee with one or another in their homes or mine. The time became right to introduce myself to the single men in the neighborhood. I hoped they wouldn't take offense to me being forward. One sunny afternoon, I was sunning myself on my small deck when I heard the doorbell chime. Since I was in a bikini, maybe too revealing, I slipped on my beach robe and answered the door. One of my single male neighbors stood there with a potted plant and a bottle of wine. "Hi Stacy," he greeted me, "I am your neighbor Glen, a couple doors down. Hope you don't mind me barging in on you. I just felt it was about time one of us broke the ice." I don't know if it was the afternoon sun warming me or his presence on my doorstep. The ice was not broken, it was melted. "Glen, please come in. I was just outside taking some sun on the deck. Come on through and join me." As Glen entered, I noticed his physique. He was very fit and very much man from what I could tell from the slight bulge in his shorts. I couldn't remember the last time I was with a man; I became aware of my response as my nipples tightened and my pussy dampened. A trip to the kitchen for ice and a bucket to chill the wine was my next stop. When I realized the plant he brought was a passionflower, I went weak. Wine on ice, two glasses in hand, we strolled to the deck. I didn't want to remove my robe for fear he might think ill of me in a scant bikini. After all, I had been a corporate big shot and maybe the two were too opposites on the spectrum. We chatted for a long time really getting to know each other and getting comfortable. Glen must have discovered that I was hiding myself in my robe when he mentioned, "I thought you said you were sunning. Hard to sun in a beach robe." "I have only a bikini on under. I'm afraid you might think me being too open if I removed it." I tested the wine to learn if it was chilled enough for a first drink. "Stacy," Glen began, "I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable." I was uncomfortable but not for the same reason he thought. "No, not uncomfortable, just being polite. Have a glass of wine." I reached his glass to him and my robe parted slightly and my bikini-clad breasts came into his view. He noticed me as much as I had noticed him. I did not pull my robe closed. The chilled wine and the warm sun were deeply relaxing as our conversation continued. Glen was one who could a conversation alive in a most wonderful way. "I followed the business news that erupted after your bosses death. Sorry about how you were railroaded out. The business climate isn't very friendly any longer is it?" My reply may have been unexpected, yet it was the truth as I finally came to believe it. "Pardon my vernacular, Glen, but fuck em all. I got a great buy out and don't need that world any longer. I'm discovering another world that always existed but wasn't for me, or so I thought. Chilled wine, warm conversation, and hot sun make for a nice environment." My parted robe parted a bit more exposing more of my bikini top and breasts. The top barely covered my nipples and I was certain Glen noticed their aroused state. As he talked, he kept eye contact with me and I with him. Yes, we stole innocent glances but we were in no way being sexual. "I'm glad you are satisfied with the outcome. I've wanted to get to know you better for some time, but always felt you were wedded to your work." I smiled with my reply. "I was wedded to it, I just didn't know the divorce would come so soon and have such a happy ending. I mean, look at the outcome. I have an attractive neighbor visiting me on my deck with a bottle of chilled wine and nice potted passion flower as a centerpiece." I began wondering if my passionflower was beginning to bloom. I know I was quickly getting in the mood. It didn't help that I noticed Glen was packing a weapon of mass delight in his shorts. We drank more wine and relaxed even deeper. By now my robe was mostly open to the top of the bikini panty as our conversation shifted to funny things happening in the neighborhood. We laughed and chatted like old friends catching up. "Glen," I started, "are you involved with anyone, dating? You know what I mean." Smiling, Glen answered with, "No. However present company included, I would like to get involved. Can we go out for a dinner sometime, and maybe a show?" "Present company included, I'd like that very much." As the wine bottled gave up its last taste of spirit, Glen left with the promise of a date Friday night. Two more days before the first date I've had in a couple years. I was so excited watching him stroll away that my hands went into my bikini panty and stroked my clit. Within seconds, I came in a gush and knew that Friday night would be a long and hopefully very hard night. ********** Glen phoned with the details of our date. It wasn't a little black dress date but it would be one for which I would dress for effect. I chose a satin-like skirt in blue fabric and stepped into it. I pulled it up to my waste and decided to go commando under. The blouse I selected was an airy antique yellow. I debated on bra or not and decided not. I wanted him and wanted to make sure he knew it. Glen arrived at the appointed time. I opened the door and invited him in. He was dressed in similar fashion as I. "Glen, you look amazing." "Amazing only because you look so stunning. I could almost skip dinner and the show just to take you all in." "Would that be a bad thing? We could order in." "If you are tempting me, I give into temptation easily." "Do you want to be tempted?" I leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek. Both Glen and I knew that something new and exciting was happening in our lives and the direction we were headed was uncharted. He stood transfixed staring at me as if trying to construct his answer. The long silence frightened me, had I been too forward? Glen reached out a hand and took mine in his. "Yes." With like minds we stepped into each other for an embrace and a real kiss, a kiss that could melt polar ice caps faster global warming, and, I was feeling globally warm. As the kiss continued, I felt Glen getting warm as well. From the growing swell I felt, I knew he was endowed with the proper equipment necessary. The kiss ended but we remained locked in a mutual embrace. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed deeply his scent. "What shall we have for dinner?" "The appetizer was delicious, Stacey. No food I've ever tasted is as sweet or presented in such an attractive fashion." I wondered if he knew that the main course was ready. I was prepared to unwrap it and let him have his fill. I sighed deeply, lifted my head, and saw desire gleaming in his eyes. I knew I felt my desire for him and felt him. I locked my lips on his again, my mouth opened as his tongue explored my tongue. Beyond the point of no return, my hips ground into his and pushed back. His hands slid down my back to my waist and I knew he would soon discover my nakedness beneath my skirt. "Please, Glen," I whispered coming up for a breath. Glen understood my plea and pulled me tightly into him. I strove to pull him tightly into me. By now he was working against me as hard as I into him. Whatever was to happen tonight, we were on the path to its completion. Glen's fingertips felt like tiny electric probes making every nerve tingle and as his hands slipped lower over my hips touching me on my all but naked butt, I lurched and made a very audible moan. "Is this the main course, Stacey?" I was ready to scream my demand, ready to scream fuck me. Instead, I answered with a whispered, "Yes." Glen's fingers dug into my flesh covered only by the thin material of my skirt. My hands responded in like manner. His butt felt firm as I tried to pull him more tightly against me. My nipples ached for his touch. All this time we were standing in my foyer. If we were to begin consummating our relationship, we had to move our opening salvo. Breathlessly, I broke away from his grasp, took his hand and lead him into the living room where we could take our date to another level. I told him to sit on the sofa and as he did so, I parted my legs to straddle his lap. I made sure my skirt rode up on me as I cautiously lowered my hips over his lap. "Dinner is served." Glen hands reached the top button of my blouse as mine reached the top button of his shirt. Each button popped and we mutually gazed on skin as it came into view. Glen's chest was muscled nicely and sported just a little hair that I knew would cause my breasts to swell against the slight tickle of his hair. My naked breasts came into Glen's view when he whispered, "beautiful," I fell against his naked chest. I was excited by the new sensation as we locked in another round of passionate kissing. My nipples, already stimulated, swelled even more. To my surprise, I was on the verge of an orgasm and didn't try to hold back. "Glen, I'm going to cum already." That was his cue. He broke our kiss and began kissing my stiff points and massaging them. I came in a roar of emotion and need for this man to take me. I know I soaked his pants with my excretion. He knew it too. I slid off his lap and saw my mess. I knelt between his legs and began sucking my juice from his lap at the same time working the waist of his pants open. I freed his cock from it confines only to find a manhood to make others pale in comparison. Glen's cock must have eight inches at least and thick, over two inches. In my excited state, I knew the folds of my vagina would expand to accommodate him and accommodations were waiting. He helped me pull his pants over his hips and down his legs. My skirt slipped from my hips and hit the floor in a silent flutter. I straddled him again. Settling on his lap this time, he guided me to the tip of his cock and I felt it brush against my labia. I sat down hard taking all of him at once. He filled me completely and a second orgasm rocked my body. I held him tightly in my sheath and rocked against him as my orgasm played itself out. I never fully recovered because Glen began pushing against me and pulling back as much as he could under my pressing against him. I was beyond any sense of what reality was. There was only one reality and that was Glen. I rocked to his rhythm and was soon sliding his length and girth in my saturated pussy. It didn't take Glen long reach his conclusion. "I'm cumming, Stacey. Get off or I'll cum in you." Instead, I forced myself down hard and held him in place. "Cum!" The first jet of his cum splashed against my cervix followed by another and another. I was getting a heavy thick load of sperm and didn't care what the outcome may be. I fell against his torso in post orgasmic bliss. "Glen, was the first course good?" Glen's cock began to retreat in size but pull out of me, he didn't. "I was famished, Stacey. I think we will have to wait before serving another course. You are as lovely as I imagined." "Glen, the other day when you brought wine and the passion flower, I knew then that I needed you." His softened cock slipped from within me and our combined cum oozed from my pussy. "We didn't use protection, Stacey. Are you okay?" "I'm more than okay and I don't think you did any harm, unless stretching me and making me want you more is harmful." I punctuated that with as much passion as my spent body could muster. Glen's arms were around me holding me. I felt comfortable and warm with him. All those corporate years of fighting the mobs and trying to ignore my womanhood dissolved into a distant memory. Glen made me feel happy about myself and I was happy he rang my bell a few days ago because he had just rung my bell again. "Glen, what are you feeling?" I wanted to know if he felt the same as I and was afraid to hear his answer. "What if I said I feel as though I've lived in the same neighborhood with a goddess who came to earth and made me very happy and very satisfied." "That is an answer I would like to hear." "What if I said you are the best thing I've experienced and I don't want to let you slip through my fingers?" "That is an answer I like, too." "What if I told you we just made a mess on your sofa?" "Uhm, I liked that very much." My feelings were not conflicted and Glen's kind and sensitive words served to reinforce what I felt. As we remained wrapped in our post sexual orgasmic bliss I began feeling a growing desire between my legs. It was Glen coming back to life. His hands began giving my back a tingling fingertip massage that awakened my desire. Somehow, he deftly moved his hands to my butt and maneuvered me over his mostly erect cock. I felt the penetration begin anew and swooned as he slowly eased me down. Each movement was slow and calculated to give me every pleasure his body could give me. I badly wanted him to have his pleasure, too. My body responded and my mouth expelled moans and sighs of happiness being impaled on his shaft once more. If he wanted to do this all night, I was ready to let him. His cock felt long, thick, and warm in me, felt as though it was destined to be where it was. I felt destined to be accepting of it. It was beyond explanation. It felt right for us to be in this position. Many pleasurable minutes passed as we slowly rocked to our steady rhythm. There was no pushing and pulling, no bouncing up and down, we locked in a lovers embrace as his cock filled me with glorious pleasure. I gave a deep sigh as an unexpected orgasm overtook me. With all the strength I could muster, my vaginal muscles gripped his invading tool and I surrendered to it and to him. We unwillingly disengaged and I sat on the sofa with my legs parted inviting him to take the top position. He was quick to accept this and he reentered my pleasure palace with a steady push. Again, our movements were determined, steady, and full of meaning. As he worked into me, we kissed with more passion than I had ever felt. His fingers dealt pleasure on my breasts. My nipples ached from all the stimulation and I wanted more. "Glen," I sighed elongating his name. There was more I wanted to say but words paled to what I was thinking. He answered in similar fashion. We drifted into a more prone position on the sofa. The feel of his weight on me and my submission to it was beyond any sensation I've experienced. I clutched onto him, squeezed him tightly against me. He began moving faster with more urgent motion. I sensed he was approaching another orgasm and I knew that when he did, I would also. When the moment came, we erupted together. His second cum was just as strong as his first filling me again. Who was this man, Glen, that he had such an affect on me? For the first time in my life, I felt complete; felt I had the man that women only dream of. I fought a glimpse of the passionflower he brought; its flower seemed to have bloomed as I had just bloomed. The meaning did not escape me. In my blissful moment, I looked at Glen and asked him to look at the plant he brought days ago. "Glen, it bloomed." "And so have you, Stacey. Is it too early in our relationship to say how much you mean to me?" I shuddered at his words and had another orgasm. "I like the sound of that, too," I breathed. I have never felt this attached to a person. Glen was every bit a man and every bit of what I knew I wanted for a long time to come. With a broad smile on his face, he broke the intensity of the moment. "I guess dinner date is off." "Oh no, its not off, we're just not going out. We should shower and I'll make us something here." It was difficult breaking our hold on the other and as we tried to pick up our scattered clothing, we could not keep hands off the other. "Glen, I want to wake up next to you in the morning." The Executed Dance It started out as any other Friday night at his favorite bar. Good people with sports games on the TV's throughout the bar and great music just an overall great vibe to the evening. The snatches of Conversations was flowing easy and the atmosphere was upbeat and fun. It was packed with the usual crowd. The regulars at the bar, enjoying their shots and conversation. Couples at the tables, toasting each other with their wine glasses, discussing the latest job woes. The groups of girls were dressed to impress in their low cut blouses tight jeans and heals, moving in groups on the dance floor. The guys were, hovering around the dance floor like a cheetah stalks its prey or those that wished they could. There were those that just took it all in, enjoying the whole scene. But then someone caught his eye. She was like him. Not part of the main crowd yet,observing it all, feeling the vibes from the dance floor and crowd, surrounding it. There is something about her he thought. It was her style. Trendy but in a very comfortable way. She had an air of confidence about her. He watched closely as she passed by, nodding to each other, in a casual acknowledgment. He liked how she moved in those tight hip huger jeans that showed off her taut shapely ass. He was a leg and ass man and you could tell instantly that she had what he liked. He groaned as he moved to fix himself into a more comfortable position since he was aroused simply from the thought of her. His eyes continued their search, looking at the tummy shirt that showed off just enough of her waist, telling him she was fit and trim. His imagination was running wild with thoughts of how he could kiss every inch of her body to return, kissing her all over again. As the evening continued the pulse of the music continued to energize the crowd. It was time for him to dance and there was only one person he had his sights on. The lady he had watched walk by him a few hours ago. He had been watching how she interacted dancing and talking to her friends and he wanted her. She stood off to the side of the bar enjoying her drink when he walked up to her saying: "Let's dance." She hesitated for a moment after setting her drink down and looking him over a full minute she held her hand out. He took her hand, leading her to the semi-crowded dance floor. They started out as any two dancers would, exchanging a pleasant smile then slowly moving to the music until their niche was found. Each moved with a fluid grace that became a synchronized dance between the both of them, as if they have been waiting for this moment for years. It was obvious to them that there was a natural rhythm and a chemistry that flowed very smoothly between them. They began to feel more comfortable with each other. the music bringing their bodies closer, as they gently brushed up against one another. Nothing major at first but as they continued to dance they felt the chemistry between them grow. She turned to wiggle her backside to him which allowed him to move in close behind her, placing his hands upon her hips, holding her as they swayed together, as he would grind his semi hard erection into her ass. She loved the feel of his erection pushing against her, causing her to tilt back and moan out loud as he would rub against her. Just enough to tease her and then pull away. She would whimper and arch her back while backing into him to reclaim what he took away. He gently stroked her arms and sides of her body as they continued to dance closer together. She thought of how gentle his hands were on her body, caressing her arms, and neck boldly moving down to slide lightly over her breasts. She gasped out loud nearly stumbling, as he caught her waist bending her down over his arm, placing his lips upon hers, kissing her deeply, taking her breath away. It was now "Game On" and they both knew it. They became more daring with the grinding, touching, groping and kissing. Both not caring who was watching. she turned to face him and in doing so wanted to feel his large throbbing cock against her wet pussy. Oh how she loved the sensations going through her body. they were all she could think of now. He sensed the intensity of her arousal, as She responded to his commands. Subtle at first but now they were very firm and direct. Her pussy was getting wetter by the second. He brought her up out of the dip, pulling her against his chest, groaning as he felt her hard nipples touch him. They were both fully focused with their eyes only for each other, as she kept staring at him, drowning in the heat and desire that was leaping from his eyes to hers, telling her in no uncertain terms this night was far from over and they needed to go now. They stopped dancing as the song died down and no longer played. He took her hand again, leading her to the front door, guiding her outside across the street to the the dark alley he noticed when he walked into the bar tonight. He was barely able to control his Impending orgasm much less keep his free hand at his side as he led her to the alley. when they reached the entrance of the alley where the streetlights glow began to fade into dark he turns, pulling her tightly to him as he hits the wall with his back, placing his hands on her face, he leans in and grinds his lips to hers, he begins nibbling her bottom one. She gasps, as he thrusts his tongue deep into her mouth to taste and feel it all over. They groan in unison, as She moves closer to him, feeling his erection fully against her belly. He growls deeply, as she presses into him showing her need to him with her tongue and whimpers of pleasure. Not able to stand it any more he suddenly removes his lips from hers and turns her face forward to the wall. Running his hand down her side he reaches the hem of her skirt, pulling it roughly up, pulling it above her ass, and smacking her ass lightly. Smiling as she moans to his manipulation of her ass. He places his hands along her cheeks to trace the path of her thong panties, grabbing a hold of them and then yanking hard to rip them off. He watches her ass quiver, as he rubs his hands over her cheeks, kneading them, removing one hand just long enough so he can unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants, growling, as he struggles momentarily to free his throbbing erection. She hears him as he unzips his pants, groaning as his growls clenches her stomach into a ball of fire and pleasure, as she places her palms flat upon the wall, spreading herself as much as she can for him, groaning in need. He leans against her back, smelling her musky scent,as he leans in to whisper into her left ear, How he would make her his tonight and every night from this night on and as he says these things she shivers from his words and breath on her ear, knowing it is what she wants as well. He places the head of his cock against her pussy and with one mighty thrust of his hips he shoves himself deeply inside of her hot wet soaking pussy that is so ready for him. Both moan from the sudden impalement into her, as they start moving in sync as they were in the dance tonight inside of the bar. Except this time it is a fast paced dance that brings them both to a climax with a few thrusts of his cock. He yells out as she screams, as their mingled cries bounce down the alley and back hitting them with the intensity of it. Laying his head upon her back, trying to get his breathing under control he kisses her cheek, neck and below her ear, whispering: this is just the beginning. The Execution The man's eyelids fluttered as a stream of sodium thiopental flowed into his veins, a mocking smile still on his lips. None of the four technicians on the other side of the wall through which the intravenous tubing passed knew which of the plungers each of them pressed was delivering the drug to the prisoner, and they were never told. Each had an identical set of the injection devices used to send the lethal trio of compounds to the condemned man: the sodium thiopental that was now rendering him unconscious; pancuronium bromide, which would stop his breathing; and potassium chloride, to induce the cardiac arrest that would finally cause his death. Tom and Laura Gold watched in silence from the witness room adjoining the execution chamber. As soon as Briggs had been rolled in strapped to the gurney he would die on, he had seen them watching him through the plate glass observation window. He grinned at them, yellow teeth in a sparse beard, and silently but distinctly mouthed a word: "Whore!" Laura would have fallen back had Tom not been supporting her with a firm grip across her back and shoulders. She recovered, and the two of them watched stonily as the execution team checked the restraints that held Briggs to the gurney and inserted intravenous tubes into his arms. The team then retreated to the anteroom to join the warden and await his orders. Briggs' head was not restrained, and he turned to look at the Golds with a leering grin. Now, as the warden directed the successive steps of execution in the anteroom, Lester Briggs lay still, his eyes closed, his grin collapsed and gone from his slack mouth. After fifteen minutes Scanlon, the grim-faced medical technician, declared the prisoner dead, and a curtain was drawn across the observation window as the gurney was wheeled away; the wall clock read 1:17 AM. Tom and Laura made their way to the visitors' parking lot, their lawyer intercepting the news media who had been waiting outside the prison for a statement. "It doesn't help, you know," Laura said, holding back her tears. "The death of that animal won't bring her back." "I know," said Tom. "It's the law, though. It's justice." "It's just more killing," said Laura. "And it won't stop other psychos like him from doing the same thing." She stopped and looked away. The tears came. "I miss her," she sobbed, "I miss our baby so much!" He took her in his arms and held her. "I know, I know," he said, "I do too." He stroked her hair gently. He was weeping quietly. Laura's sister Amy was waiting for them inside her car, which was parked next to Tom's. Tom opened the door for Laura to get in. "Won't you come back with us?" Amy said. "Just for a while, anyway? This is a hard day for everybody." "No," said Tom. "I'll come by in a day or so. I think I really need to be alone now." "You sure?" said Amy. "Sure you don't want to be with us and talk things out?" "Thanks, Amy," Tom said. "But not tonight. I'll be in touch soon, I promise." She reached out of the window to give his hand a squeeze, then pulled out of the parking lot. Tom watched them go and then left in his own car. Tom and Laura were no longer together. Often even the strongest marriages are unable to withstand the loss of a child. * * * * * A dirt track not far from home led into the woods and then to meadows on both sides, textured by late summer asters and goldenrod. Milkweed pods were releasing their feathery seeds, and Becky reached for them as they floated on the afternoon breeze. "See those red berries over there, mixed in with the yellow?" asked Tom. "Mom likes those. Shall we pick some so she can make an arrangement?" "Yeah!" said Becky, and bounced eagerly in her backpack carrier as Tom cut several branches of the bittersweet and handed them back to her. "Pretty!" she exclaimed. "Don't eat them," Tom warned. "Remember, some pretty things are yucky to eat!" "I won't Daddy. I remember." They took a path that led down to a stream that flowed into the lake behind their house, a quarter of a mile away. Tom pointed to the wetlands on the other side of the stream. "That's where the froggies live," he said. "In the spring there will be lots of baby frogs, and they like to sing, really loud!" They started back up the path the way they had come. "Daddy?" "Yes, sweetie?" "Daddy, do you think the baby froggies will sing to me?" Memories die last. * * * * * The extent of Briggs' insanity wasn't fully evident at the trial. That came later, after his conviction, with the leaking of his barely legible "manifesto" to the press. He maintained that God had commissioned him to wage holy war against the "new harlots of Babylon", in which he was to seek out and destroy "all them young sluts and Jezebels" that made the world unclean. This had to be done before "are Loard" would come again and bring the Rapture. And how would he know who were the new harlots? "That's easy," he told one reporter who had managed to secure an interview with him. "Like God told me, they're the ones who get you all hard and stuff when you look at them! They give you unclean thoughts, like, and that means the Devil's behind it, and he's the enemy of our Lord. That's how I know what I gotta do, God's work." He had taken Rebecca as she walked home alone after visiting with a friend. "Just askin' for it," he said, "just askin' for it." Briggs did not testify at his trial. His public defender weighed the merits of justifying an insanity plea with a demonstration of his client's clear derangement against the more probable outcome of disgusting and outraging the jury with his obscene and, to some, blasphemous rants. So Briggs contented himself with sitting quietly next to his lawyer during the proceedings, and occasionally looking around at the spectators in the courtroom. When he first caught sight of the Golds he grinned and flicked his tongue at them. After that Tom came alone. The only other disturbance Briggs caused during the trial came when crime scene photographs were circulated among members of the jury. Briggs stood up and said that he wanted to see them, too. "The defendant will take his seat and remain quiet!" the judge had ordered. When Briggs repeated that he wanted to see the pictures, two police officers hurried to the defense table and forced him back down into his seat. For a few seconds he glowered at the judge. Then he watched the jury, studying their faces as the photographs were passed from one to another. The pictures were taken in Briggs' basement apartment, where eleven- year-old Rebecca Gold's nude body had been found tied to a metal bed frame. Her knees were bent, held in place with duct tape around her shins and thighs, her wrists bound to her ankles. A wooden rod had been taped between her knees to hold them apart, and a rope kept them pressed to her chest. She had been gagged with a single strip of duct tape across her mouth. The medical examiner gave the cause of death as exsanguination, the result of vaginal bleeding caused by multiple sexual assaults over a period of six days, the time that had elapsed between her disappearance and Briggs' arrest for indecent exposure in a public park, which led to a search of his premises. Briggs sulked for the rest of the afternoon. He had so wanted to see those pictures. The jury returned a guilty verdict after two hours' deliberation. After the verdict was read, Briggs turned to the jury box and made an obscene gesture. At his sentencing, when asked if he wished to make a statement, he said, "I was doin' God's work. Teach them parents a lesson, too, lettin' the little slut walk around like that." "It is never easy to pass judgment on another human being," the judge said. "But in this case, Mr. Briggs, you've made it easy." The sentence was for death by lethal injection. * * * * * "Welcome, a warm and wide welcome to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ! I am pastor Eustace Grimes, and I thank you all most humbly for your attendance here at our weekly 'Sin and Salvation' program, where we give voice to the glory of our faith in God and to our pride in our great nation. For verily I say unto you, my friends, God has smiled down upon this land, and upon his faithful servants, and because of all of us in congregations like this across the land he has made America his holy bastion, his Capital of Christianity in this world! "But, oh, my friends, it is a sad and woeful world we live in, with evil and sin abroad in this land that we love! You have only to open a newspaper, or turn on the television you are watching at this very moment, to realize that the Devil is busy at his work - yes, my friends, the Devil! - the very enemy of God! - busy right now, busy endeavoring to pervert the souls of those he fears most, the Christian Soldiers of America! Wars and blasphemy are everywhere, but not only that: what are we to make of this lost soul who was condemned last week, condemned to die the death for his sins and his shocking actions against a child of God? For surely, he must die and he shall die at the strong hands of our just guardians of public order - do we not read in Matthew 22:21 that we must render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's? And what is of Caesar, if not the law of our great land, the law whose righteous power is itself descended from the very laws of God? Yes, although he began as a devout member of our congregation, his weakness allowed him to be won over to the side of the Dark One, and it is the will of God that he be executed for this transgression, and so shall it be done. It is only charitable that we ask God to have mercy on his soul - but in truth, I shudder to think of what is waiting for him! "We weep for the poor child who was taken from her family - we mourn greatly, although we are comforted by our certainty that she resides now in Heaven, glorying in the bliss of the Lord, surely happier as handmaiden to God than she could ever be in our sorry world. But we are troubled still: how do such things come to pass, what causes such corruption of the soul? It is the Devil's work, surely, but the Devil needs help to do such things, he can't do it alone. The reason, my friends, is that the Devil is a destroyer, not a creator - there must be something, some weakness or hint of corruption, something that he can get his teeth into in order to work his evil. It's like he's a sculptor, and he needs some foul, stinking clay he can shape into abominable graven images. "So where might the Devil find this foul clay to work his evil with? Well, my friends, we need look no farther than the first page of the First Book, the Holy Bible itself! In Genesis 3:1 we read of the Serpent who taught Eve how to tempt Adam. But to tempt him with what, you ask? Why, with sin, of course, with the very first sin. And what was that first, that original sin? It was the sin of lust, my friends, the temptation of the flesh! In our Lord's prayer itself, in Matthew 6:13, Jesus begs God to protect us from such temptation. But if Adam, the first man, the great-granddaddy of us all, could be tempted like that, what chance did this weak-minded criminal have in his struggles with a lust-soaked world? "For our world is indeed soaked and steeped in lust! You need only visit any of our great American shopping malls to see why the Devil has been so busy. As you make your way among the shops you can't fail to notice the legions of young girls who congregate there, traipsing about in clothing that vilely mocks all standards of Christian decency! In First Timothy 2:9, we read that women are to adorn themselves in 'modest apparel', in 'flowing' garments that do not reveal the contours of the body. Is that what we see on these girls at the mall? No, my friends, it is not; instead, we are shocked to see them playing the harlot without shame in short skirts and tight dungarees, hurling modesty aside and into the face of God! Is it any wonder, my friends, that God has given the Devil free reign to corrupt Christian men against their will, and to incite them to lustful deeds? Is it any wonder that the permissiveness and immorality encouraged by the atheists and secular humanists in the liberal media have caused our young girls to behave in ways that invite attack and bring God's wrath down upon them? Look to your daughters, Christians, and teach them the ways of the Lord: for I say unto you, Christian values, Christian decency, is the only defense against the evil loosed upon our world by the fallen Eve! "Thank you for your attention, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Ours is indeed a wicked world, beset with sorrow. But with your prayers and your generous donations to our ministry we shall not fail to make America over into the shining Christian Nation on the Hill - one nation under God! - that she is destined to be! "Amen." * * * * * Tom awoke groggily in the morning, aware of something pressing into his back. He rolled over and looked towards Laura. Then he saw that Becky was lying between them, sound asleep, curled up in her pink Dr Dentons, her thumb in her mouth. Laura was already awake, resting her cheek in her hand as she looked down at their child. "Bad dream, I guess," she said. "Enough to drive a five-year-old to a safer harbor." Looking down, Tom thought that the way his and Laura's bodies were curved around the little girl did in fact suggest a protective harbor, warm, impregnable walls against all harm that might threaten her. They watched her until it was finally time to get up and face the day. * * * * * The man's eyelids fluttered as consciousness slowly returned. He stared upwards for several seconds, then tried to sit up. He couldn't, because he was strapped to the gurney. Remembering, he looked towards the witness observation window. It wasn't there; instead, he saw a brick wall, grimy in the dim light of a single overhead light bulb. He looked around. His eyes fell upon the figure of a man in shadows, watching him. "Wh- where am I?" he whispered. "Am I in ... am I dead?" The man spoke. Briggs recognized Scanlon, the man from the execution chamber. "No, you're not dead," he said. He was leaning against a closed door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Briggs looked around the room, a sort of utility or work area. On one side of the gurney was a high workbench that ran the length of a wall; on the other side a long wooden box with a loose cover was pushed up against the opposite wall. "What's going on?" Briggs said. "Why ain't I dead?" Scanlon said nothing. "What the fuck is going on?" Briggs shouted. He struggled and the gurney rattled, but the restraints held fast. "They pumped those poisons into me, didn't they? To put me to sleep, and ... and the rest?" He looked wildly around the dim room. "I'm supposed to be dead!" he whined. "I'm supposed to be in heaven!" Scanlon straightened and slowly walked to the gurney. He looked down at Briggs, and held up his thumb. "One, he said, "sodium thiopental." He lifted two more fingers. "Two, three - saline." Briggs blinked. "What the fuck's that?" he said. "Water," said Scanlon. He smiled. "All you got pumped into you was a sleeping pill, friend; you've had a nice nap." He returned to the door and leaned against it, waiting. "But ... but why?" said Briggs. "Was I ... was I pardoned?" Scanlon snorted sarcastically, but said nothing. Briggs struggled in his constraints again. "I want to see the warden," he said, his chin thrust defiantly forward. "Now!" "Oh, I don't think the warden wants to be disturbed any more tonight," Scanlon said quietly, studying his fingernails. "He's had a busy day. And besides, he thinks you're dead." "Call the fucking warden!" Briggs hissed. "Call him right now, you son of a bitch!" Scanlon started to speak, but he was interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. He turned and opened it, and Tom Gold stepped into the room. He looked around the interior, his eyes resting momentarily on Briggs, and then placed the gym bag he was carrying on the workbench. Opening it, he removed a thick envelope and handed it to Scanlon. Scanlon briefly examined the contents, counting, and stuffed it into a pocket of his jacket. "You've got the weekend," he said to Tom. "I'll be back early Monday to take care of that." He pointed to the box against the wall. Tom nodded, and Scanlon left the room, closing the door behind him. Briggs had gone very pale. He stared at Tom. "What are you doin' here?" he croaked. Tom didn't answer. He was busy transferring the contents of the gym bag out onto the workbench. "This is fuckin' crazy, man," Briggs said, "this whole scene is fuckin' crazy." He looked wildly around the room. "This is a dream, right? It's just a fuckin' nightmare! I'm gonna wake up soon ... or maybe I really am dead. Do you have dreams when you're dead?" Tom said nothing as he rummaged in the bag. He took out a tool box, the kind one might keep in a garage or a utility closet. He opened it and studied its contents. He took out a hammer, a pair of pliers, a chisel and a heavy pair of wire cutters, then shut the box and put it back in the gym bag. Next, he pulled out a plastic Wal-Mart shopping bag, and removed from it a pair of scissors, a roll of duct tape, a small tank of propane and a brass torch fitting. He studied the fitting for a moment, then screwed it onto the threads at the neck of the tank - it made a small hiss as a puff of the gas escaped. After returning the emptied shopping bag to the gym bag, he took out a padded FedEx envelope and opened it, removing two boxes. One contained ammonium carbonate smelling salt ampoules; the other was labeled "Disposable # 10 scalpels". He took out one of these, and put the boxes and the envelope back into the gym bag. He picked up the scissors and duct tape and went to the foot of the gurney. Briggs was looking at him with wild eyes. "What are you doing, man?" There was terror in his voice. "What's all that stuff for?" Tom said nothing as he examined the straps that held Briggs' arms and legs to the gurney. He frowned slightly, and cut off strips of tape to reinforce the bindings against violent thrashing. Briggs had in fact begun to struggle once again, and hurled curses and threats at the other man as he went about his preparations. Tom went around to the head of the gurney and looked down at Briggs as he thrashed and spat. He considered a strap of tape for the neck, but decided against it. There was no danger as long as he kept out of the way of the teeth. Although Briggs was now shouting and yelling curses at him, he did not want to tape his mouth. He wanted to hear everything Mr. Briggs had to say; indeed, he wanted to hear every sound he chose to make. He put the duct tape back on the bench, and used the scissors to remove the man's clothing, methodically cutting up the legs and along the arms of the prison uniform, taking care not to nick the skin. Briggs was starting to babble now. "Not right, man, not right. Not like this not like this." He began to whimper. "I'm sorry, you know man, I'm sorry what I did." Then he changed in an instant: "Fucking son of a bitch," he screamed, "motherfucker cocksucker, you gonna burn in hell for this, you know that? You know that? God didn't tell you what to do like he told me! He'll make you pay, cocksucker! He gonna give it to you up the ass! I'm gonna make sure he does!" Tom calmly removed the remaining fabric covering Briggs' groin. He studied the flaccid penis - it was brownish and surprisingly small. This is what had been inside of Becky, rending her during her last agonized moments of life. It would receive appropriate attention, in due course. But for now, he went back to his task of uncovering the rest of Briggs' pale body. Finally, he withdrew from the gym bag a set of disposable Tyvek coveralls and a package of latex gloves. He removed his suit jacket and hung it from the doorknob, then stepped into the coveralls and pulled them up, threading his arms into the attached jacket and closing the front snaps. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and turned to look down at Briggs. For the first time since entering the room he looked into his eyes. The Execution * * * * * Some years the weather was fine for the 4th of July celebration, and other years the rain came. This was one of the latter, a hot, muggy day, under a threatening, grumbling sky. As the clouds finally released their torrents, people ran for the sheltering awnings of the concession stands that circled the town baseball diamond. Tom and Laura were laughing, half-drenched as they huddled against the popcorn stand. "Where's Becky?" Tom asked. "Check it out," Laura said, pointing. The field was empty save for a solitary figure standing on the pitcher's mound: eight-year-old Becky, her arms held out, looking skyward with her mouth wide open, catching the rain as it fell - bedraggled and ecstatic, in love with the moment, in love with now and tomorrow. * * * * * Laura was right, of course. Nothing would change, madness would not disappear from the world, sick minds would still fester. This had nothing to do with deterrence, with justice, and not even with vengeance, really. Vengeance requires passion, and that was gone. Ten years of formal, mandated appeals had been completed, the way cleared to execution of the sentence. That time should have been enough to lead to, if not healing, then at least to a dulling of pain. It had, in a way. What Tom felt now was simply - nothing. When the murder had occurred he had been consumed by unspeakable loss. It was the negative image of her birth - the surprising feral, amniotic scent, the stunning stare of recognition in eyes only seconds old - here again was an experience ancient and shared by millions, yet somehow unique and known only to him. Since the beginning of time there could not have been such an enormity of desolation and rage that he experienced then. And now, after years of support groups, of comforting friends, of waiting - nothing. Not acceptance, not assuaging of sorrow, just - nothing. It was simply the death of his spirit. Why am I here? he thought. Why do this? I don't care one way or the other, so why bother? One last thing - just one last thing to do for Becky. * * * * * A lone rat paused at the door of the room, then scuttled on. Once a temporary storage area for the prison kitchen, food scraps were no longer to be found here. Still, the rat made several circuits of the storage area adjoining the utility room, following the faint remnants of dying scents. Giving up, it squeezed under a gate and made its way to newer buildings containing garbage of recent memory. Consequently, outside of the little room there was no one to hear as the shrieks began. The Executioner Cara was just sliding the tight-fitting gold spandex skirt down her hips when the doorbell rang. She gasped and looked at the clock. It was already 8:00! In a rush to answer the door, she grabbed the gold headpiece and armbands to her costume and slapped them on as she hurried down the stairs. With a final glance in the mirror, she plumped and adjusted her breasts, making sure that they were displayed to full advantage in the skimpy Roman-style top she wore. Actually, they were dangerously close to overflowing. The thought of a wayward nipple making an appearance at the party made Cara's pulse quicken. Excited at the idea of a little "accidental" exhibitionism, she wore a flushed smile as she opened the door. To a sight that was not at all what she was expecting. "Nickie?" Cara waited rather nervously for a response. The man who stood at her door was completely covered from head-to-toe in a black hooded cloak, cinched with a leather belt that had some strange silver rings attached to it. And he held a very real-looking medieval-style axe, which glinted wickedly in the porch light. Several long seconds ticked by. Then the man lifted a hand to push the hood back. Cara sighed with relief and almost jumped into his arms. "Nickie, you scared me!" She eyed his costume thoughtfully. "What are you supposed to be? I thought you said to dress in Roman attire so we would match." She frowned, looking in confusion from her outfit to his. There was no way they matched now. Nicolas tried to keep from laughing at the look on her face. He held a finger to her lips to quiet her. "Happy Birthday," he said in a low voice, as he pulled himself from her enthusiastic embrace. Cara had always hated being born on Halloween, because her birthday was more often than not forgotten by even her closest friends, who were usually preoccupied with costume parties, hayrides, and haunted houses. It touched her that Nickie would remember, especially since they had only been dating for two months. She thought she may have mentioned her birthday in passing conversation during their second date, but she hadn't expected him to take much note of it. Most men, at least in her own not-so-vast experience, weren't that attentive to the little sentimental details that mattered to women. Maybe Nickie was different. She felt the beginnings of a warm feeling for him start in her heart. And spread south from there. Nicolas caught her chin and tipped her face upward so that she was staring directly into his eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked. "Of course. You know I do, Nickie." "I want to give you a very special birthday present, Cara. Something that I think you've been wanting for a very long time. But you have to promise me that you will do whatever I ask of you tonight, no matter what." Cara paused, her heart racing. Somehow she knew that if she agreed, tonight was not going to be like any other Halloween--or birthday--she had ever had. She swallowed hard and nodded. "You have to say it." "I promise, Nickie. I promise to do whatever you ask." Cara shivered. "Umm, for tonight," she added, as an afterthought. "Good. That's all I'm asking of you. For now." Nicolas let his gaze roam her body, taking in the sight of her luscious breasts, rounded hips, and ultra-long legs with the appreciation of a connoisseur. "I like this outfit. With a few minor alterations, you will match my Executioner perfectly." He held out a gift-wrapped package to her, which he seemed to have produced from somewhere beneath his cloak. Cara ripped into it eagerly. A birthday present! But once she got the package open, she stared, dumbfounded, at the contents. A set of gold manacles and leg shackles, with a key, sat in a box lined with soft tissue paper. What? She looked up at Nickie with a wrinkled forehead. Before she could say anything, Nicolas reached up and plucked the tiara-like headpiece from her head and threw it into the house behind her. "That won't do," he said. He ran his fingers through her waist-length jet-black hair, smoothing it out down her back. Then he picked up the manacles and shackles from the box and clamped them around her wrists and ankles. They felt heavy and cold against her skin. Still kneeling at her feet, Nicolas held out his open palm toward her and waited. Cara knew what he wanted. The key. It was still in the box. He couldn't lock her up without it. She picked it up with a shaking hand, thoughts spinning. For a second, she couldn't bring herself to release the key. Nicolas smiled at her. "Relax. It's just part of the costume, Cara," he said. But it wasn't just a costume. Cara felt the tension in the air, recognized the heavy chains at her wrists and ankles as symbols of something more than just a bit whimsical Halloween fun. They had real locks on them, for goodness' sake! Cara bit her lip. Did she really want to go through with this? On some level, she acknowledged that the idea of being held captive aroused her, but how well did she know Nicolas? She was conflicted. Thoughts whirled around in her head. His voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Drop it, Cara," he commanded, a touch of irritation in his voice. The key fell into his palm. ### Cara fell backward into the passenger's seat of Nicolas' car, chains jangling between her legs. She had never felt so out of control before. Although, looking back and forth between the two of them, she had to admit, their costumes definitely did match now. She would play the condemned woman to his Executioner. They might even win a prize for Best Couple's Costume. But Cara wasn't worried about winning a prize anymore. She was worried about how she would manage to hobble around the party--or dance--with her legs shackled together. What would people think? What would they say? What could she possibly tell them to explain this? Nicolas started the car and Cara glanced over at him, wondering what he was thinking. "Nickie, maybe this isn't such a--" Nicolas cut her off. "For the rest of the night, you will use my full name, and speak only when I ask you a direct question. Is that understood?" Cara's eyes grew wide. Were they to take their roles that seriously? The independent woman inside of her balked at the terse order. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Although, to be honest, she didn't really mind it. It was kind of nice not to have to make any decisions, a welcome change from the fast-paced, high-powered business world that she spent most of her days immersed in. She bit back a retort and rested her head against the seat back cushion, closing her eyes for the rest of the ride. ### "Cara, wake up. We're here." Cara opened her eyes and saw that they had pulled into the parking garage of the hotel where the party was being held. "Open your legs for me." Still sleepy but willing to obey, Cara parted her thighs. Over the course of the past two months, she had become accustomed to Nicolas' insatiable desire to touch and caress her. She hadn't minded accommodating him at all. Most of the men she had known in the past hadn't even known what foreplay was, much less showed any interest in it. At his request, she had made it a habit not to wear underwear whenever they were together. Nicolas rubbed his thumb in gentle circles over her clit and dipped another finger inside of her. Cara realized, with some embarrassment, that she was already soaking wet. Apparently this whole Executioner scenario turned her on! She had a brief moment of worry that there might be a damp patch on the back of her skirt. She discarded the thought as unimportant, once Nicolas began working several fingers inside of her. Cara squirmed and began thrusting her hips up to meet his fingers, wishing that it were his cock. She moaned and pulled her hands up to cup her breasts. The chain swayed back and forth with her movements. She felt a deep, clenching feeling beginning in the pit of her stomach, and began moving even more urgently. When he knew that she was on the verge of orgasm, Nicolas removed his fingers from her pussy. Cara wanted to scream with frustration, but, remembering where they were, she also didn't want to draw attention to their car in the darkened garage. She thought briefly of touching herself to get some relief, but didn't think that Nicolas would be happy with that. When she finally got her breathless body under control, she felt like cursing at him for denying her release. She opened her mouth to speak, and found it unexpectedly filled with his fingers. She gagged a little, tasting her own fluids on his skin. Seeing, after a moment, that he wasn't going to take them out, she closed her lips and sucked them. When they were clean, Nicolas removed them from her mouth. "Good girl. Now lean back and spread wider." Cara wondered if he was going to go down on her in the car. That was a welcome thought. Glad she hadn't yelled at him for stopping earlier, she slid her seat back as far as it would go and reclined it, then spread her legs for him. Nicolas leaned over her prone body and put his head between her legs. She couldn't see what he was doing, but lifted her hips expectantly, eager to feel his tongue. She felt a gentle pressure on both sides of her clit, and a strange coldness. Silently, she waited for more. But she realized with dismay there was no more to come when Nicolas sat up and pulled her skirt down, patting her thigh with satisfaction. Cara was still feeling frustrated and confused when he came around to her side of the car and took her hand to help her stand up. But she decided to wait and see what would happen. Obviously, he had something planned for tonight. He had said it was something she would like. So she would do her best to just go with flow, and see what he had in store. ### The dance floor wasn't crowded yet, since it was still only 9:30, but there were a lot of people at the party. Cara kept her head down and her eyes on the floor, as Nicolas had instructed her, but she could hear voices all around. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see some of the outrageous costumes that others had worn, and was glad to see that hers wasn't that out of place. She was also glad to see that she didn't recognize anyone here, so far. Though the jovial, otherworldly nature of the Halloween festivities made her feel more free to really get into the role that Nicolas wanted her to play, she still had some reservations. And she wasn't sure exactly how far Nicolas wanted her to go. She followed behind him, watching the hem of his cloak, as they made their way to the bar. Nicolas ordered her a dry martini and held it to her lips to drink. She couldn't have held it herself if she had wanted to. When they had gotten out of the car earlier, he had chained her arms to her leg shackles with a length of chain that wasn't long enough for her to raise her hands higher than her waist. And if that wasn't enough, the entire contraption that held her was chained to the belt at his waist, which forced her to follow wherever he went, like a little dog. Cara gulped the entire martini down at once, grateful for the extra boost of confidence. The liquid burned as it went down her throat, but left her with a warm, mellow feeling. She started swaying to the music, patiently waiting for him to speak to her. With her eyes on the floor, she remained blissfully unaware that her provocative outfit had attracted the attention of most of the males--and some of the females--in the room. Nicolas tugged on her chain, alerting her to his forward movements. He held out a hand to steady her as she took short, quick steps forward. They were moving to a smaller room in the back of the main party area. Nicolas stepped through some heavy curtains, holding them back to allow her to pass. Cara ducked and scooted under his arm into the room. She stopped about three feet beyond Nicolas and stared into the dimly-lit room, open-mouthed. There were candles everywhere. Millions of them. And there were several darkened corners, draped with black, web-like netting, which rustled every so often. They looked like spider's webs, but thicker. Halloween decorations? They weren't like any she had ever seen before. She thought she heard soft noises coming from behind them, but couldn't make out anything distinct beyond the louder background sounds of wild wind, rain, and thunder that punctuated the muffled silence. But it wasn't raining outside. After a moment of puzzlement, Cara realized that they must have some kind of a CD playing the sounds as a backdrop to the whole scene. Cara was so fascinated that she would have kept shuffling forward, except that the length of chain attaching her to Nicolas' belt ran out, yanking her to a jerky halt. A muscular, rather beefy-looking man suddenly appeared, and held out an arm to prevent them from going any further. Nicolas quickly stepped forward and presented the man with a card, and they were allowed to pass. Cara followed Nicolas into a private alcove, unspoken questions filling her head. Once inside, Nicolas turned to her. "Kneel, Cara." Cara hesitated. This wasn't what she had expected at all. "Kneel. I don't want to tell you again." Unable to restrain herself, Cara had to speak. This was too much. Too new, too unexpected, too... everything. "Nickie? Umm, I mean, Nicolas...what is all this? Is this some kind of freaky, sexual haunted house?" Cara gestured helplessly at the room around them with her manacled hands. "Cara. Kneel!" Nicolas looked angry with her. Thunder crashed in the background, as if in emphasis to his words. For an instant, seeing the fire in his eyes, Cara felt like bolting from the room. Fear started to take over her mind. Then a blast of sensation hit her full between the legs, and--unable to control herself--she fell to her knees, gasping and shocked. Once she hit the floor, just as suddenly, the sensation ceased. What was that? She lifted her head and saw that Nicolas held a remote control in his hand. "You promised to obey me, Cara. Did you forget?" Cara said nothing, only halfway hearing his words. She was too busy wondering what Nicolas had attached to her clit while they were in the car. Her fingers itched to pull up her skirt and look at the instrument of torture--and pleasure--that he had fitted her with. "You may answer me now." His voice held a hint of warning and he stared at her with a scowl. With flushed cheeks, Cara realized that she had been unconsciously wiggling her hips in a very suggestive manner, as she attempted to dislodge the device she now knew was there. "Nicolas. I'm sorry." "I'll forgive you this once. But I'll have to punish you if you do it again. Remember, you belong to me tonight. In all ways." Cara shuddered as she contemplated exactly what that might mean. Although she harbored many secret fantasies about sexual submission and slavery, she had never told anyone about them. Especially not Nicolas, whom she had only known for a handful of weeks. The idea of pursuing such a relationship was intoxicating to her, but the reality was terrifying. So instead, she had always contented herself to hole up in her room, reading scores of books on the subject, and visiting internet sites that specialized in the topics of domination and submission. She wondered what had made Nicolas think she would be suited to such a role? "Put your hands flat on the floor in front of you." Nicolas' voice came from behind her, right at her ear. She jumped in surprise. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed him move. His breath tickled her earlobe and made her breasts ache to be touched. She noticed that he had removed the chain connecting her wrists to her leg shackles. She desperately wanted to lean back against his body, but instead she bent forward and carefully put her palms on the ground. "Further. Stretch forward as far as you can." Cara walked her hands forward until her forehead was flat against the carpeting and she was lying prostrate in front of him. Like some virgin sacrifice, she thought ruefully. Nicolas pushed Cara's skirt up over her hips, revealing her lush, naked ass to his gaze. Cara felt the cool air on her thighs and shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to lift her head, but his hand pressing firmly at the small of her back was a silent warning against any movement. Nicolas' body moved to cover hers. His voice sounded again at her ear. She sighed happily as he whispered softly to her. "You like this, don't you?" His fingers were at her pussy, caressing, teasing. She sucked in a breath and pressed herself back onto his hand. "Mmmmm. That's right, Cara. Move for me. Show me how much you want it." Nicolas watched her writhe for a few moments. "Yes. Just like that. Ah, Cara mia, my sweet little slut." Cara heard his voice, but it was as if her head were detached from her body, and she was floating in a distant fog. Almost mindless with need, she heard herself making unladylike grunting noises but couldn't seem to find the strength to hold them back. She began dragging her chest back and forth, rubbing her hard nipples against the carpeting through her flimsy top. She felt so aroused that she was sure there must be a puddle forming on the floor between her feet. Nicolas nodded. She was ready. It was time to kick things up a notch. He moved his hand away from her and stood up. "No!" Her cry of disappointment turned into a sharp intake of breath, as he flipped the switch on the remote vibrator attached to her clit. "Cara, I warned you about speaking without being asked." Cara heard but didn't care anymore. She could barely focus on anything but the fire between her legs. She heard rustling behind her, and hoped fervently that Nicolas was going to fuck her. She needed to be filled. Something brushed softly against her back, trailing down to the curve of her buttocks. It wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted Nicolas to increase the vibrations. She wanted... "Quiet." Nicolas' voice crackled with authority. Cara was startled. She hadn't realized that she'd been speaking aloud. Before she had much time to contemplate that, she heard a vicious cracking sound and felt a sharp sting across her cheeks. She jumped and cried out, trying to lift herself up. Nicolas put his boot against her back and pushed her back down. "Tonight is not about what you want. It's about what you need. And I am giving it to you." He continued whipping her. She was sure that welts must be developing, and struggled against his foot, trying to get away. Her hips bounced from side to side, but she couldn't tell which direction the next blow would come from. She let out a mewling sound. "Please, Nicolas..." "Cara! You keep misbehaving. You're testing me, aren't you? Trying to see how far you can go. STOP talking." When he had first started whipping her, the pleasurable vibrations in her clit had disappeared, and all she'd felt was the burning, stinging pain. And fear. But now, as he continued, and as he spoke to her in a stream of low, calming words, she felt her body beginning to respond in a different way. Cara stopped squirming and struggled to keep from moving around as Nicolas brought down the whip again and again. She felt herself growing wetter with each stroke. Nicolas varied the intervals between strokes. Sometimes he would wait several long seconds, teasing her with the wait. Sometimes there would be several quick strokes in succession. She tasted a salty wetness on her lips and realized she was crying. "Good girl, Cara. I'm proud of you. You are making a great effort. Give in to the feelings. You don't have to be in control here. Leave everything to me. Let go." Let go. His words seared into her consciousness. She realized that she didn't fear him anymore. Not really. He was doing this for her, not to her. The Executioner Cara's vision went blurry for a second. Her entire bottom half was as tense as a piano wire. She felt as though she were on the edge of a great precipice, ready to fall. "Come for me, Cara. Do it now." His final words tipped the scale. She was falling. It felt like flying. The longest and most intense orgasm of her life rocked her body, and then the world went dark. ### Cara's eyes fluttered open as she felt the car stop. Nicolas tucked his cloak around her and gathered her into his arms. She was vaguely aware that they were walking to her doorstep. "Nicolas?" she asked, in a small voice. She had so many questions. Which one to start with? "How... how did you know?" He smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "You have quite an interesting book collection, my dear." He patted her still-tender bottom possessively, and she moaned against his chest. "And you talk in your sleep," he added with a wink. Nicolas set her down just inside the house. Then he took her into his arms and gave her a long, passionate kiss, not letting her pull away until he was ready. Reminding her, she imagined, even with that small gesture, that she was not in control. Not on this night. Then he left, closing the door behind him. Cara blinked, stunned. He was gone. That last kiss reminded her that they still had not actually had sex. She felt rather bereft. Lonely. Abandoned. The doorbell rang. Cara barely had it open before Nicolas burst into the house again. Pushing her roughly back against the wall just inside the door, he nuzzled and sucked the sensitive spots her neck. She whimpered and ground her hips against him. "So," he growled. "Trick...or treat?" His voice was deep and full of barely restrained need. She looked down and noticed that his erection was pressing insistently against his pants. She watched as he reached a hand down to free it from its cloth prison. Cara didn't hesitate. "Whatever you want, Nicolas." She screamed and dug her nails into his back as he lifted both her legs and buried himself inside of her. Cara wrapped her legs around him and rode the wave of desire as he fucked her to a violent climax. Her back pounded against the wall in a staccato rhythm as she came, legs shaking, and felt him erupt inside of her. Then they both slid to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. A few minutes later, Cara lifted her head from Nicolas' chest and looked around, a little dazed. Shyly, she shook his shoulder and whispered, "Nicolas, don't you think we should close the front door now?" The Executive I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 34th floor. Being country born and bred I had never liked high buildings and I held my breath as I was rushed upwards. I looked in the mirror and straightened my tie, made sure my hair was neat and soon the doors quietly opened and I stepped out into the plush decor of the executive suites. I approached the expensively dressed receptionist and before I could speak she said, "Mr. Wilson? Please go down that corridor to room eight, Ms. Green is expecting you." I smiled my thanks and followed her directions down the thick wool carpeted corridor, located room eight, knocked and entered, to be greeted by another secretary. "Ah, Mr. Wilson, please come in, Ms. Green will be with you in a few minutes, would you like coffee or tea while you wait?" "No, but I would like a glass of water," I replied and sat on one of the soft armchairs, laughing to myself that I wished they would call me Matt or Sir, I wasn't used to this "Mister" stuff. "Certainly Mr. Wilson", Miss Efficiency said and left the room. She soon returned with a crystal glass of clear water on a small silver tray, obviously no expense spared for the executives of this company. After a few minutes the intercom buzzed and a lady's voice said, "Send Mr. Wilson in please Celeste, and you may leave for the day, see you in the morning." Celeste rose and ushered me to the door to the inner sanctum; I smiled my thanks and entered, closing the door and Celeste behind me. The sheer size of the office and the class of the furniture almost took my breath away as I strode toward the large desk near the tall glass windows. Behind the desk sat Ms. Green, immaculately dressed and not a hair out of place. She stood as I reached the desk and held out a hand in welcome, she was shorter than I had expected. Her hair was blond and pulled back off her face, and of course the makeup was impeccable. The smile was confident and delightful and her figure was very trim. "Nice to meet you Mr. Wilson, please sit down and make yourself comfortable." "Thank you, and please call me Matt," I replied as I sat on the chair. "Great, and please call me Kristen, I do prefer first names whenever possible. Now Matt as I said on the phone on Monday your services were recommended to me by Deanne. I have known her for many years and when I saw her last week she was looking absolutely wonderful. It didn't take too much persuasion for her to tell me of her dealings with you. As you can see I am in a very controlling position in my job and I have had a great need for many years to give up that control and submit to a dominant man. It was a fantasy I thought would never come true, most the men I come in contact with are wimps, but when I heard of your services my hopes soared. So here you are," Kristen stopped and gave a girlish giggle and blushed, "Oh, I am dominating the conversation, I am sorry, I am a bit nervous" "That's fine Kristen and being nervous is understandable. You are about to break a pattern of control that has been part of your life for many years and it takes courage to do that. Now, Celeste, what does she think I am here for?" "Celeste thinks that you are an investment advisor from one of the large banks and with the suit and the large briefcase you do look the part so there will be no problems with her or any of the other staff." Kristen rose from her desk and locked the office door. "All the offices are sound proofed too so what happens here is just between you and I." "Before we commence do you have any questions? Anything that has occurred to you since our long talk on the phone? What safe word do you wish to use?" I fired the questions at her. "No more questions Matt, I just want to let go and be in your control. I know I am safe from what Deanne said and I have made arrangements as you ordered to phone her at 7.00pm. If I don't phone she will call security to come up here. The safe word is "red" and I will call "amber" if I'm getting close, can we start please?" I smiled at her excitement, "Certainly Kristen but perhaps you should close the curtains first, anyone with binoculars or a telescope could see right in here from those other buildings." Kristen blushed and rushed to close the thick curtains and I dimmed the bright lighting to suit the mood of the occasion. "Come here Kristen, take off your shoes and stand at attention, from here on you are in my control, you speak only when spoken to and you call me Sir, understand?" I instructed as I removed my coat and tie, rolled my sleeves up and unbuttoned the collar to be more comfortable. Kristen kicked off her shoes and scuttled to stand in front of me, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yes Sir!" "Take off your jacket and place it on the chair," I ordered and Kristen immediately obeyed. I walked slowly around her knowing that the parade ground inspection always gives the feeling of being subordinate to a new submissive. "Now young lady it's time to let go of all your long held beliefs that you have control. Oh yes, I know that since you were born you have wrapped everyone around your little finger. You learnt very early how to get your own way, didn't you? You used your beauty and your feminine wiles to get your own way just about every time. Oh yes, and how you pouted and carried on when something went against you. What a foot stomping little brat you must have been when you were a child, I wonder if your parents ever considered putting you over their knees and giving you the hiding you no doubt deserved? No, probably not, it was easier for them to give you what you wanted and your life has gone on like that, through school, college and since you entered into the corporate world." I continued to walk around Kristen as I spoke in a calm, controlled fashion. "I bet your quick rise through the corporate ranks has left many a wrecked man behind you. Men who have been captivated and tongue-tied by your beauty, and your ability to use them for your gain. And when you get what you want from them you spit them out and leave them behind don't you? Well Ms corporate success it's time for you to be taken down a peg or two. It's time for you to get some much needed discipline into your life, to learn to do what you are told, to accept that you are not the most important person in the world. I'm going to give you what you should have been given when you were three years old. And that is control. Kristen, you will give me total control of yourself and I will show you just how rewarding that can be." I stopped behind Kristen and ran my fingers down the spine and smiled as a shiver ran through her body. Returning to stand in front, I reached out and took the ornate silver belt from around her waist, then I pulled her turquoise blouse out from the top of her short dark blue skirt. I stroked her neck a few times with the back of a finger and then took hold of the top button of the blouse. Slowly I proceeded to undo the buttons, one by one until the front fell open revealing a white bra covering her pert breasts. I slipped the blouse from her shoulders and threw it on top of her jacket. "Drop your skirt to the floor then give it to me." Kristen jumped when I spoke and then with fumbling fingers loosened her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She bent down, picked it up, handed it too me and stood, again at attention. I threw the skirt with her other clothing and stepped back to look her over once again. Now only dressed in bra and panties with garter belt and stockings she looked good enough to eat. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing and her eyes were downcast at the floor. I moved back and stood close beside her, reached out with my right hand and took a handful of her hair, jerking her head back. "Eyes straight ahead Kristen," I barked in her ear, "And hands on your head!" Kristen's looked straight ahead as I released her hair from my grasp so I placed my left hand on her tummy and stood still. Kristen's breathing stopped as she waited expectantly for my next movement. At least ninety seconds passed by so I whispered, "If you don't start breathing you may faint." "Oh my God, Matt, Sir, I didn't realize, OUCH!" as I slapped her arse firmly for the first time. I steadied Kristen with my left hand as my right rose and fell onto her lovely arse cheeks. Spank! "Ohhh!" Spank! "Ouch!" Spank! "Ahhhh" Spank! "Oh Yes!!" I gave Kristen about ten firm but not hard slaps on each cheek; she took them very well and managed to keep her hands on her head. I stepped behind her and heard a sharp intake of breath as I unclipped her bra and then I moved back in front of this delightful lady. "Hands down Kristen." I noticed the quickness of her obedience and I reached forward with both hands and took the shoulder straps in my fingers. The straps slid off her shoulders and down her arms and I flicked the bra over with her other clothes. "Take off your stockings." Kristen's eyes briefly met mine as if surprised that I did not touch her lovely breasts and she bent and unclipped the stockings from the suspender belt. Both stockings and the belt soon joined the pile of clothing on the chair. I took hold of her left arm and led her over to her desk, pushing her shoulders so she bent at the waist over the edge of the desk, her breasts flattening on the polished timber. Kristen moaned as I raked my fingernails from her neck down her spine to her panties. I slapped between her thighs and she obediently spread her legs wider apart. Grasping the elastic of her panties I made as if to lower them slowly, but suddenly pulled hard and they ripped themselves off her body. "Ohhhhhhhhh yes!" Kristen cried as the panties tore and my hand roamed over her now bare arse. I ran a finger down her crack, over her arse hole and teased it over the entrance to her vagina. As I expected she was quite wet and another long low moan escaped her lips. I resumed the spanking on the bare skin, gradually increasing the force of my hand on the skin that slowly turned from white to pink. Whack! "Ouch" Whack! "Ahhh" Whack! "Owww" Whack! "Oh God!" Whack! "Oh shit!" I kept spanking Kristen as she had told me on the phone that submitting to a spanking was one of her hottest fantasies. She had been spoilt as a child and never had a hand laid on her by her affluent parents. Her need to submit may have been a subconscious desire to rebel against the patterns that had long been instilled in her brain. But I really didn't care about the psychological reasons, as long as she was enjoying her submission that was what counted most as far as I was concerned. WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!! "Oh Sir, this is fantastic, even better than I imagined, please keep going," Kristen was obviously enjoying herself but I wanted her to experience more than a hand spanking so I stopped. "I'll ignore that you spoke first, but this is your last warning. Stay there Kristen and don't move." I directed as I opened my brief case and took out a crop, strap and a small, thin, whippy cane. "These will sting more in a smaller area Kristen, remember the safe words," I said as I tapped her arse cheeks with the tip of the crop. Kristen nodded her head as the muscles in her buttocks clenched in preparation for the sting. Her hands reached out and grabbed the far side of her desk as a low moan escaped her lips. I raised the crop and brought it down smartly across her pink globes leaving a light red mark. To her credit Kristen took the sting without making a sound, she certainly was determined to be brave. Without pausing I beat a quick tattoo across her arse cheeks, leaving lovely criss-crossed marks on the skin. Kristen was squirming on the desktop and emitting small yelps with each stroke but there was no sign of her nearing the use of the safe word. I paused and without warning changed the crop to the strap, with a little more force. "Owwwwww, oh Sir! What was that?" she cried. "Just a leather strap Kristen, want me to ease up?" I inquired as the strap landed another time; once again I ignored that she had spoken first. "Yahhhhhh, oh no Sir keep going, it stings like hell, owwwwww, it just took me by surprise." I alternated the use of the crop and the strap with a few whacks with one before changing to the other. Kristen was amazing me with her ability to take this punishment, as her arse was now bright red. I stopped and rubbed my hand over her hot cheeks, Kristen murmured with pleasure and pushed back at my hand. "I'm going to give you six strokes with the cane to complete this part of your session," I said as I pushed the telephone across the desk, "But first I think you should phone Deanne." "Oh is it that time already?" Kristen replied, her voice showing a mixture of excitement, arousal and pleasure as she grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers. "Hello Deanne, yes its me." A pause and then, "Oh yes I'm fine, Matt, I mean Sir, is wonderful, my arse is on fire and I think I'm going to cum soon. What? Oh the code! Ummmmm, it's oh, four, a, nought, e." "Don't hang up Kristen," I ordered as I tapped her arse with the cane, "Keep the phone by your mouth and count the strokes." The cane whooshed through the air and landed on Kristen's arse. "Owwwww, oh one." Whoosh ~ crack! - "Ouch!! Two." Kristen gave a few sobs as I raised the cane again. Whoosh ~ crack! - "Yaaaahhhh, oh god, three." Whoosh ~ crack!! - "Ohhhhhhh shit, its too much, four." I paused and admired the four bright red marks across her cheeks as Kristen sobbed into the desktop, the phone still close to her mouth. She was shaking her head from side to side as if saying 'no more' but she still had not used the safe word so I continued. Whoosh ~ crack!!! - "Owwwwwwww, oh Sir orange, oh God I mean amber, I don't know if I can take anymore." Kristen's whole body was shaking, partly with pleasure and partly because of the pain. "One more Kristen or will I stop?" My voice was firm and commanding but the decision was hers. "Yes! One more Sir, oh fuck I am so close to cumming, please………." WHOOSH ~ CRACK! - "Aiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!!!!" The cane landed across both her cheeks and Kristen screamed loudly and she jerked uncontrollably as the orgasm swamped through her body. I dropped the cane and held Kristen as she collapsed across the desk. I reached out and replaced the telephone, smiling to myself as I pictured Deanne's face on the other end of the line. I stroked Kristen's back as she slowly calmed down, her panting body testimony to the intensity of her orgasm. After a few minutes I gathered Kristen in my arms and carried her across the large conference table where I laid her face down on the cool timber top. Moving to cupboards against a side wall I found a pack of tissues and then the bar fridge where I grabbed some ice, then I returned to the table and gently rubbed the ice over her still very warm arse cheeks. "This will reduce the pain and also limit the bruising a little Kristen," I said, "You will still feel the pain for some time, a nice reminder for you of your first punishment session." Kristen turned her head sideways and looked at me as she wiped the few last tears away. "Oh Sir that was amazing, as the stories say it hurt so good, I have never cum like that before in my life." I smiled down at her as I continued to cool her buttocks with the ice. "Turn over onto your back Kristen and spread your legs wide apart, if you want me to continue." Kristen's reply was to turn over immediately, wincing as her arse cheeks touched the hard timber. I went to my brief case and took out four lengths of soft rope. It wasn't long before I had Kristen's wrists and ankles secured to the legs of the solid table. "I wonder what your fellow director's would say if they could see you on top of the table instead of at the head?" I asked with a grin. "Oh some of them would love to have me on top like this, I can see it in their eyes," she replied as her eyes watched my movements, widening as I held up some nipple clamps. I rubbed a piece of ice over Kristen's nipples to make them even harder and then attached the clamps to each of the nipples. Her breasts heaved with the sudden pain and the joining chain rattled quietly as her hips rose off the table. I grasped the chain and lifted it straight above her breasts, watching her face closely as her nipples were pulled upward. Kristen's eyes narrowed and she clenched her teeth; and as I increased the pressure a long low moan escaped her lips. I lowered the chain to ease the pressure on her nipples and then jerked it up again causing a shriek from her lips. I played with the chain for a short time, never having the same pressure on each nipple, while I watched Kristen's body pull against the ropes as she moaned and groaned at each tug. Dropping the chain I left the clamps attached to her nipples and grabbed my bag of tricks. I pulled out a handful of clothespins and attached one to each ear lobe. Kristen grimaced and then watched as I squeezed some skin of her left breast between my thumb and first finger. I clipped a clothespin to the trapped piece of skin and repeated the procedure over again. Soon I had five clothespins and the nipple clamps attached to each heaving breast and Kristen was moaning loudly. "Please Sir, the nipple clamps are killing me, red to those please," Kristen pleaded with tears welling again in her eyes. I quickly removed the clamps, leaving the clothespins still attached. Kristen gave a huge sigh of relief as the intense pain suddenly diminished and once again her eyes sparkled at me. I played with a few remaining clothespins, moving them from hand to hand while I looked down her slightly perspiring body, teasing her with my actions. After dropping the pins back into my bag I ran my fingertips over her torso, moving them down over her hips, thighs and calves and back up again. I repeated this several times causing moans of anticipation from my lovely captive. Kristen's eyes opened wide as I reached down and picked up the crop again, but I wandered away from the table slapping the leather tip against my hand. I could feel her eyes watching me as I moved to the drink cabinet and poured two glasses of water. After drinking mine I took the second one over to Kristen, holding her head up while she sipped at the cooling liquid. "Thank you Sir, I needed that," she said, still warily eyeing the crop in my hand. "Did I give you permission to speak silly girl?" I inquired. "Oh I'm sorry Sir, I thought, I………………" her voice faded. Kristen then yelped several times as I quickly pulled all the clothespins off her ear lobes and breasts, leaving small red marks attesting to the pressure they had applied. I placed the crop on the table beside her and started to slap her breasts from side to side. "You will learn to obey Kristen, when I say speak only when spoken to I mean it." Kristen nodded her head and grimaced each time my hands made contact with the softness of her breasts. Slap, slap, slap was the only noise in the room as somehow Kristen managed to keep quiet. This soon changed as I picked up the crop and commenced flicking the leather tip onto her breasts and nipples. I was not using much force but I knew from past experience that the sting was quite appreciable on the soft flesh. "Sssssssssshit, ohhhhhhhhhh God!" Kristen's cries were loud and I hoped that the room was completely sound proof. I moved the tip of the crop down to her inner thighs, using a bit more power as I flicked it across the soft skin, very close to her pussy and then moving it down to near her knees. Up and down the insides of both thighs the crop moved, leaving red marks after each little crack. Kristen's cries were the loudest of the session and the familiar scent of a very turned on lady reached my nostrils. The Executive I am the CEO of a major corporation. I am only 55 and in pretty good shape. I have worked hard to get where I am. Maybe I worked too hard because it cost me my marriage. I had a solution to the break up though; I worked even harder. I could not have done this on my own though. I had an amazing secretary. We were paired up when I was a junior executive at the age of 25. Martha was 40 I think. She was incredible. Her advice was invaluable. The only thing better than her advice was her work ethic. I never got to the office before her and I never left after her. I was no slouch either. I was in there at 7:30 to 7:45 every day and I stayed until 6 or 6:30 every night. I don't know how much time she put in working. Every day when I came in, my coffee was ready and my mail and messages were arranged on my desk. No report was ever late and I was never unprepared for any meeting. Martha made sure I always looked good. So every time I got promoted, I brought her with me. As I moved up she came along. I could not afford to loose this woman. By the time I was CEO, Martha was making more than everyone in the office but my two Vice-Presidents and myself. Martha and I were quite the team. Martha was not married. She was married to her job. There was never any sexual tension between us. We were always working. The time of my life when there might have been sexual tensions, I was married and working hard every day. By the time I got divorced, the relationship between Martha and myself was set in concrete. It was too late to change. My morning routine was to get to the office early. I came in, said hello to Martha as I entered my office. I would hang up my coat then sit at my desk. By then, Martha would appear with two coffees and her note pad. On my desk were three piles of paper neatly organized. In the middle of those stacks was my daily organizer with my appointments and meetings all laid out. The first pile was urgent phone messages. The next was urgent mail and finally, the "have a look and then discard" pile. I always looked at the urgent phone messages first. Some I must look after and others I gave to Martha. I then moved to the urgent mail. I would read each letter then dictate my reply to Martha. Next I would look at the third pile. I quickly read everything. There was no "junk" mail there. Martha filtered that out for me. Some things I would dictate a reply and others, I would instruct her where to file them. The last thing I did was to look over my schedule for the day. We would discuss the needs for each item in the book. Like I said, we were quite the team. With years of experience together, we had the routine down pat. Then came the fateful day. I came into the office at 7:35 and rounded the corner to where my office was located. Martha was not at her desk. That was strange. I went in and hung up my coat. I went to my desk. No messages or mail. I started to look around, Martha did not come in with the coffee. I was truly perplexed. Just then Tom, the head of Human Resources came rushing into my office. "Have you heard?" "Heard what?" I replied. "Martha was killed last night in a car accident." "What?" The news didn't even really register. "When? ... What? ... I can't believe.... " I was stammering and I tried to come to grips with the news. "How did you find out?" I finally asked. I dropped into my chair. "I got a phone call last night. Her daughter called to tell me." "What?" She had a daughter? Martha wasn't married." "She was married but before you started working with her." "Wow!!!!" I didn't know what to say. "How did the daughter get your number?" "It seems she called the office last night and then the security guard phoned a few people until someone gave him my home phone number." "I can't believe this. What am I going to do?" I was slowly starting to recover. "Tom I will need a new secretary. I need the best we got. Whoever she is working for, I need to talk them immediately when they come in. Then we need to find a new secretary for that person. You know Martha was more than my right hand man. She was everything to me here. I need you to find that person for me." "Ok Mike. I'll do my best." "Thank you Tom. Would you please find me someone who can fill in temporarily? I must get things started." Tom turned to leave. "Oh and Tom, would you please ask John and Steve to come in when they get here?" John and Steve were my Vice-Presidents. "Sure Mike. Whatever you need, just ask. I'll be glad to help out." Tom left. I just sat there. I was at a loss because I didn't have my messages of mail. What would I do? I got up and went to Martha's desk. There neatly stacked was the mail for today. As I looked around, there were the phone messages in her basket. Several people were filing into the office. I was getting some strange looks because I was sitting at Martha's desk. One of the secretaries whose desk was close to Martha's was just coming in. She looked at me. After she hung up her coat, she walked over. "Mr. Simmons, can I help you with something?" "Um, thank you Wendy. I am just looking for my messages." "Didn't Martha leave them on your desk?" "Um well, you see...... Martha isn't here. She won't be coming in any more." "She won't?" There was a big sound of surprise in Wendy's voice. "What happened?" "Well you see..... Martha died in a car accident last night." I heard Wendy gasp. "Oh my God!!!" she exclaimed. "Oh my God!!!" She started to cry. "I'm sorry I blurted it out like that. I didn't know how else to tell you." "Oh Mr. Simmons. What are we going to do?" "I know Wendy. I am going to miss her so much. Martha was incredible." With that said, I took my messages and mail and walked back into my office. I sat at my desk and started to look at the phone messages. As the minutes pasted, I heard others in the office coming in. I could hear the crying as people were told the news. Just after 8, Tom came to my door. He gently knocked and came in. "Mike, I have someone to fill in for Martha today." He turned and there standing at the door was a young woman. I don't think she was more than 20. "Mr. Simmons, this is Carol. She is from the temp pool. She will be working with you until I find a replacement." "Hi Carol. Would you please go and get me a black coffee? I need something to get me started today." "Yes Mr. Simmons." Carol turned and left. "Mike, there are a lot of upset people out there today." "I know Tom. I can hear them. I need John and Steve." "Right Mike. I saw John a minute ago. I'll go and find Steve." A few seconds later my two VP's appeared at my door. "What a day Mike," John said as he entered. "Who would have expected this?" Steve asked as he came in. Just then Carol appeared with my coffee. She put it on my desk. "Carol, would you please take this pile of mail and open it for me. Read through and find what you think I should see. If it looks important then bring it to me. Otherwise put the rest in a pile and we'll deal with it later. Thank you Carol." She turned and left the room. "Well you guys, we have quite the situation here today. I can hear from all the commotion outside, I'm going to have to go and talk to the troops. Guys, I'm going to have to lean on you for a while. Without Martha, I need someone to take up the slack. I've asked Tom to find me a replacement for Martha, if that is even possible. But in the mean time, I'll not be up to my usual state of preparedness. I need you to help out." "Of course Mike," they said in unison. "You just tell us what you need," Steve said. "That's just it. I don't know what I need just yet. I have my appointment book of course. Oh hell," I said as I looked around. "Where is my appointment book?" John jumped up and headed to the door. "Carol would you please have a look for Mr. Simmons appointment book?" There was a pause and then he said, "Thank you." He headed back to his chair. "Thanks John. This is going to take some getting used to. Martha spoiled the hell out of me. OK! I've asked Tom to find me the best secretary we've got. He will be recommending someone soon I hope. I won't take either of your secretaries but everyone else is fair game. Next I need one of you two to take care of Martha's family. She was such a big part of this organization. We're not going to forget her. I want her family taken care of by us. I want flowers, transportation, a hall, caterers and booze; the whole nine yards. What they ask for they get. Who wants to look after that from me?" Again, both started to speak. They both wanted too. "Ok! Thank you. Who has the most open schedule then?" Just then Carol appeared at the door with the appointment book in her hands. "Come in Carol. Thank you for finding that for me." She put the book on my desk and left. John spoke, "I think I have the more open schedule. Steve you have that presentation to make on Friday. I think that will tie you up pretty much." Steve nodded. "So I'm your man. I'll get on it and see to everything." "Good. I want everyone in the office who wants to attend to be able to attend the funeral. Work with Tom to make sure we have people to man the phones while we're gone." "Done," said John. We sat and talked for a while. There were many things to discuss besides the loss of Martha. It was almost 8:30. "Ok guys. I think we should go out and have a few words with the troops." We all stood and headed out. The office was not a happy place. People were standing around in little groups or sitting at their desks crying. I should have had the tissue concession that day. "If I can have your attention please," I began. "As I am sure you have all heard, we lost Martha last night to a tragic car accident. I've not heard the details of what happened but that isn't important. What is important, she is gone and will be missed very much. Martha was a wonderful person and an incredible employee. I think we should have a minute of silence in her memory." We all hung our heads in silence. About 30 seconds into the silence, a phone rang. It was quickly answered and I could hear whispered conversation. Then the phone was hung up. After the minute had passed, I said, "Mr. Thompson here is looking after the arrangements for Martha's funeral. I have instructed him to grant the day off for all employees who want to attend the funeral. Before you ask, and I know some of you will, it will be a paid day." I smiled and I heard a few snickers. "We'll need some people to stay behind and keep the phones going. If you could stay here that would be appreciated. We will all have to work together to get over this tragedy. Please do the best you can today. I know it will be hard but we have to keep going. I know Martha would want us to. Thank you folks." I returned to my office. I just sat for a while thinking. Finally I opened my appointment book and looked at the entries. Most of them were not important. I pressed the intercom button and asked Carol to come in. She appeared at the door and I watched as she crossed the room. She sure was young. What an incredible figure. "Sit down Carol. First, thank you for the coffee. It was very good. I've been looking at my appointments and have put check marks beside the ones I do not want to he deal with today. My head is too distracted. Would you please see if you could contact these people and cancel the appointments? Try to reschedule them and apologize for me. Explain the situation. I am sure they'll understand." "Yes Mr. Simmons." "Thank you Carol. I know this is tough on you being thrown into this position. I promise, regardless what you've heard, I don't bite." I smile and so did Carol. "This is not easy on any of us but we have to keep going the best we can." "Ok Mr. Simmons." "Alright Carol. You take this book and see what you can cancel." Carol stood up and I handed her the book. I could not help but watch her ass as she walked out the door. She sure was cute. I sat there thinking. I could not focus very well. About 10 am, Carol knocked on the door and came in. I was starting to like watching her walk across my room. "I have cancelled everything except your 11 o'clock. I can not reach him." She handed me the book. I looked at the 11 o'clock. "Thank you Carol. Would you please get me the Vancouver Tech file? I must prepare for him. Poor man has flown across the country to see me today. I owe him my attention." Carol nodded and turned to leave. "Thank you Carol. You're doing a wonderful job." Carol looked at me and smiled. Just as she got to the door, Tom appeared. He stood to one side as Carol left. His eyes followed her as she turned the corner. Tom then came into my office. "I think I've found her for you. She's working in Accounting. Her name is June. June Caruthers. Everyone I've talked to raves about her." He handed me a file folder. "Her performance reviews are incredible. She is single. I asked, she has no children. I think she is your woman." "I'll take your recommendation. Why not ask her to come up here? Better yet, talk to Sid and tell him your thoughts. Then talk to June and escort her up here. She might be a bit scared so be gentle." I smiled. Tom left and Carol appeared with the Vancouver Tech file. She sure had a nice ass. It wiggled left to right as she walked and her skirt flipped out with each step. It wasn't 15 minutes and Tom appeared at my door again. I could see behind him was standing a beautiful woman. Tom stood to one side and let her enter my office. I stood up and said, "Hello, my name is Mike Simmons. Please have a seat." Both of them sat down. Tom spoke first. "Mike this is June Caruthers. She has been with us for 5 years now and is Sid's Executive Assistant. I have explained the situation to June and she knows some of what will be expected from her." I could not take my eyes off of June as Tom talked. She might have been 35 but she didn't look 35. Her hair was dark brown and shoulder length. Her eyes were this amazing blue colour. The sweater she wore did nothing to hide her magnificent figure. Don't get me wrong, she was not in tight sexy clothing but very a complimentary and professional outfit. She was sitting with her feet crossed and knees to one side. I had to focus to get my mind back on track. "It is nice to meet you June. So you think you can work with an overbearing workaholic like me?" I smiled. June smiled and said, "I bet I've worked with worse." "I won't pull any punches June. You'll have mighty big shoes to fill. Martha was the very good and better yet, she made me look very good. I work long and hard and I need someone who can keep up with me. I expect a lot but I know how to show my appreciation for a job well done. Have I scared you off yet?" "Not at all Mr. Simmons. I am ready for the challenge." "Good June. I intend to fast track your raises. I will see how you handle the job and we will move your pay scale along accordingly. Is that fair?" "Very fair. Thank you Mr. Simmons." "You can start calling me Mike. We'll be working closely together." "Thank you." "I have a meeting I can't cancel in half an hour. Tom, why don't you leave Carol on the desk for the rest of the day? June, you can start to look into the files and get acquainted with the routine around here. Carol should free you up so you will not be distracted." "That sounds like a good idea Mike," June said. "I agree Mike. Carol can work the phones and leave June free," said Tom. "Good. That's settled. I want to welcome you aboard June and I look forward to working with you. I hope you like the fast pace of things around here." "I know I will Mike. I hope you feel I'm competent enough to be your assistant." Both June and Tom stood up and headed for the door. I had to watch June as she left. She sure had a fine figure. Her ass wiggled even more than Carol's. I had half an hour to finish preparing. At 11 o'clock precisely, June knocked on my door. "Mr. Simmons, Mr. Harry Galworth from Vancouver Tech to see you sir." She stepped back and Mr. Galworth came in. "Thank you June. Mr. Galworth, nice to meet you. Please have a seat." "Nice to meet you also Mr. Simmons. Please call me Harry. I'm sorry to hear about your secretary. I had many conversations with her on the phone and I was looking forward to meeting her today." "Well, she was certainly a special one. I'll miss her very much." We then sat down. The meeting went well. Some of it was a blur as my thoughts kept drifting. Just after 12, I buzzed and June answered. "June, we're having a very good meeting here. Could you please order us some lunch so we can continue?" "I've ordered it already sir. It should be here in 5 minutes." I was stunned. How did she know? Even Harry was impressed. Just as she told me, June knocked on the door 5 minutes later with a cart of sandwiches, drinks, plates and napkins. She rolled it in and left without a word. When the meeting was over, I walked Harry to the elevator. We had signed an agreement to work together on a project. I was impressed with Harry. As I walked back to my office, I noticed June was sitting at her desk. There was no Carol. "Where's Carol?" I enquired. "I have things under control I think. I asked her to return to her section." Wow!!! Again, I was impressed. I didn't know if I should be impressed or concerned. Time will tell. The rest of the day was uneventful. The next morning I arrived at 7:35 again. As I rounded the corner, there was June. I was taken aback a bit. I didn't expect her to be here so early. We said hello and I went into my office. I hung up my coat and turned to my desk. There neatly laid out were the three piles of paper with my appointment book in the centre. I had just sat down when June appeared with my coffee and her note pad. "I ... I don't know what to say? How did you know about this?" "Martha was very efficient. She had spelled out everything in folder. I have an understanding how you like things done now." June sat down. I looked at her legs. They were magnificent. Her skirt was short but not too short. It came just above the knee. When she sat down, it rode up and I could see more of her legs. Concentrate!!! Concentrate!!!! I focused my attention to the phone messages. Then I went to the mail. It was like Martha had never left. I talked, June wrote. When we were done, June collected her papers and stood to leave. "Thank you June. That was just the way I like to get my day started." "You're welcome Mike. I try to please." She turned and walked out. What a figure. And those legs!!! Incredible. So that was how things started off with June and myself. The funeral for Martha was on Friday. Many in the office attended. The church was packed. The reception was wonderful. I met her two children and had a long talk with them. Her daughter was just a younger version of Martha. What a delight it was to meet her. Things in the office carried on. June and I worked together very well. Three months after she took over, I doubled her salary. She was not making what Martha had but then Martha had many more years of experience. June still had some things to learn. I figured by the one year mark, June would be making Martha's former salary. There were some differences though. Martha had refused to have a computer. She still had the typewriter on her desk. Within a month, the typewriter was gone. I was receiving more things electronically. It was actually a good change after I got used to it. Another change came up about 5 months in. I had a major presentation to do in San Francisco. I had been preparing for a month. June and I had been burning the mid-night oil to get me ready. A week before the trip, June came into my office and said, "The airline tickets are confirmed. I've booked us adjoining rooms in the hotel and those are confirmed." The Executive "Adjoining rooms? Why do I need two rooms?" "You don't. But I need a place to stay." "You need a place to stay? You're coming with me?" "Of course. This meeting is too important for me to stay here. I'll need to be there to attend to any last minute details." "I didn't expect this. Martha never went with me on my trips." "I know. And I am not Martha. She had here ways of doing things and I have mine. You don't have a problem with me coming along do you?" "No. I don't have any problem with you coming along. I used to hate the late night phone calls then waiting for the fax to kick in with the changes." So off we went. June brought a laptop with her. I didn't even know she had one. On the plane ride there, we talked and she worked on the presentation. When we got to the hotel, we checked into our rooms. A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door that connected the two rooms. I opened the door and in came June. "See boss. Isn't this better? You have your room and I have mine." We spend the rest of the afternoon fine tuning the presentation. About 6, I said, "Let's break for dinner." So we headed down to the restaurant in the hotel. It was a lovely place. The lighting was low and the music was soft. We had a wonderful meal. We talked about everything under the sun except work. I learned all about her life and her family. I really got to know her better. After dinner, we went back to my room. June made me do my presentation for her. It was then we found a big problem with the slides and the sequence of the text. June immediately set about correcting the problem. She went to her room and I headed for the shower. I was stiff and a bit tense. I needed the shower to unwind. The hot water felt good. When I was done, I came out in the hotel bathrobe. I went into June's room. She was just finishing the correction. "Well it looks like you are more relaxed," June said. "I do feel better thank you. Can I read the text yet?" June handed me the papers. She then stood behind me and started to give me a neck rub. God it felt good. I stopped reading and rolled my neck as she rubbed. After a few minutes I looked at the clock. "Wow it's getting late. I didn't realize. You must want to get into bed soon," I said. "I could use a shower. It's been a long day." "Ok! I'll go to my room and go over the presentation one more time. Thank you June. The neck rub was wonderful. I'm glad you came along on this trip. I don't know how I would have gotten the presentation fixed if you weren't here." So I left and kicked the adjoining door half closed as I left June's room. I started the presentation again. As I went along, I make some marks so I could correct the odd word here and there. When I was done, I had completely forgotten that June was in the shower. I was reading the presentation as I entered June's room. I had my head down and was not looking up. "June, I have just a couple of things I'd like to change." It was then I looked up at her. She was standing at the foot of the bed naked. My God she was gorgeous. June had been brushing her wet hair as I came in. She had just frozen as I entered. I stopped dead in my tracks. I dropped the papers and they scattered all over the carpet. June stood about 5'6 or 5'7. She had shoulder length brown hair. From what I could see, she didn't have an ounce of fat on her. I would guess she weighted about 115 or 120 pounds. Her breasts were a nice size. Maybe a C cup. They were firm and standing proud on her chest. Her nipples were a beautiful pink colour. I didn't move and just stood there looking at her. Well most of me didn't move. My cock was sure appreciating the beauty in front of me. It rose to full attention. It was sticking out the front of my robe. June was looking me up and down. Her eyes fixed on my cock and didn't move for a few seconds. She then looked at my face and smile. She put her hairbrush on the dresser in front of her and turned to me. She seemed to float across the room. Without a word being spoken, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the lips. I put my arms around her and pulled to toward me. Her tongue flicked across my lips. My tongue came out to touch hers. We must have stood there for 5 minutes kissing. Finally she broke off the kiss. She looked deep into my eyes. She took one of her hands and lowered it to my cock. "I see the boss needs something else rubbed." June started to slowly rub my cock. The tip was touching her belly. Her hand felt incredible. I could not remember how long it had been since I was with a woman. It had been a while though. My cock was super sensitive. June let go of my cock and undid my robe. She pushed it off my shoulders onto the floor. We were both naked now. Her hand was on my cock again. I leaned down and kissed her. I put my hand on her ass and pulled her to me. Her tits were buried in my chest and felt incredible. After a few minutes, June pushed me backwards onto the bed. Quickly she crawled up beside me and sucked my cock into her mouth. Her tongue was dancing all over the head. Her hand was pumping me. I could feel my cum coming quickly. I knew it would be a big one. I tried to warn June I was about to cum. She responded by pumping me faster. She was sucking on me so hard her cheeks were hollowed. My cum shot up from my balls, along my cock and into her waiting mouth. June didn't miss a drop. She sucked me dry. When I was finished, June cleaned up my cock and then gave it one last kiss on the tip. Without letting go, she then swung her leg over me. She was straddling me. Looking me in the eye, she then sat down on my cock. I think I hit bottom on the first thrust. June let go then started to ride my cock for all she was worth. She was pumping me so quickly, I could easily believe she hadn't had sex in a long long time. We fucked for quite a while. My cock had remained hard the whole time. I had my hands all over her magnificent tits. They were just as firm as they looked. Her nipples were exquisite hard little rocks that I loved to roll in my fingers. I know June had at least 3 orgasms before I felt my cock starting to build pressure. Finally, my cock let go. June screamed. She threw her head back as another orgasms rocked her body. I pushed up hard into her. I wanted my cum to be buried deep in her belly. When we both were finished, June fell forward onto my chest. I put my arms around her and just held her close to me. My cock grew smaller. June rolled over onto her side and my cock came out of her. We just lay there holding each other and looking into each others eyes for a long time. Eventually we got under the covers and slept in each other's arms all night long. In the morning, we woke with gentle kisses on each other's face. My cock grew hard so June rolled me over on top of her. Her hand found my cock and placed the tip between her soft pussy lips. I pushed in. It was not a hurried fuck. We worked each other's body slowly and gently. Gently that is until I felt ready to shoot. I started to pump her hard and fast. June responded with her own thrusts. We came together as my cock shot into her warm pussy. After showering together, we had breakfast. Before we left for the meeting, June made the corrections I had marked. We kissed then left. I was more relaxed than I had been in a long time. The presentation was a huge success. We won the multi-million dollar deal. That night, we ordered room service then spent the night fucking. On the flight home the next day, we talked about how we would handle the office situation. We decided that we would be totally professional at the office. No one ever knew we were fucking each other. No one ever saw the little teases she would do to me. Like when I was dictating a letter, she would have her legs open so I could see her panties. Or the late night fucks we had when the cleaning ladies had left. We kept this up for over 4 years. Then one day, June came in and handed me her resignation. I was completely shocked. "Why?" I asked? "Because you can't be married to your secretary." I smiled and proposed to her on the spot. Of course I accepted her resignation. My new secretary is good. Not a good as June or Martha though. But then I'm not such a workaholic any more. I come in later and leave earlier. I have this beautiful woman who fucks my brains out waiting for me at home. I still don't travel alone these days. My secretary travels with me. So does June. Like she says, "I know how these secretaries think and what they might do. I'm not going to let some other woman help my husband relax before a presentation." The Executive The Executive "Quiet, dear. You'll just choke on your own drool. Besides, you wouldn't want me to make any mistakes, would you?" I fondled his most valued extremity. He shuddered and went still, panting. I resumed sawing through his suit and the ropes that bound him. Within a few minutes, he was lying naked and chained in a pile of frayed shreds. "Good. Now you and Grunt match each other, slave boy. Why, I don't know how I'll ever tell you apart. Though actually... there is a difference, isn't there?" I giggled. "Grunt here hasn't been allowed to orgasm in... how long was it, Grunt?" "Four months, twenty eight days, thirteen hours, Ma'am," he answered. "Yes!" I rubbed my hands. "But you know that's about to change, don't you, boy?" Grunt's permanent erection became, impossibly, even larger. Slave boy, mouth stretched wide, took in this sight and cried out. He shook his head, groaning, and attempted to bury his face between his knees. His ankles tugged against the wall as he struggled to curl up into a fetal position that would hide his mouth. But his hair was perfectly exposed. I put a hand to it and stroked. "Oh, come now," I murmured gently. "Scared? He's perfectly clean. Why, I seem to recall you had booked this as an interest with a young lady in Fresno who turned you down. Now's your big chance. No? Hm. Does it really bother you that much?" My slave nodded urgently, shivering. "Well, then," I said, petting him, "we won't do it. There are always other things. No, no, don't fret." I hugged his shaking shoulders. "We'll take this nice and slow, only do things you agree to. Does that sound good?" My captive nodded slowly. I stepped away and measured out the distance to the forward wall with a chain, adding two feet of slack for good measure. I locked the chain to a D-ring there. I beckoned Grunt and affixed the other end to his collar. From this corner, Grunt had a semicircular range of movement that just so happened to intersect with slave boy's personal space. Slave boy's arms and back were straining by the time I was done. He held himself half upright, quaking with effort. "You really should have taken advantage of that gym membership, hm?" I busied myself with threading a rope through the back of his collar. "Not that it would even help much with this..." The rope slid through an anchor loop on the floor, and I pulled it tight. My captive found himself on his back again. "Plan B, dear," I addressed Grunt. Grunt approached, his chain skidding, and straddled my captive. He faced a different direction than slave boy probably expected: away. He squatted. Slave boy stared up, mesmerized, at the sight of Grunt's lowering asshole. "It's much better for everyone if you don't turn your head, dear. Remember how you had to clean up the urine." Catching on, slave boy screamed, wrenching to the side and thrashing in animalistic terror. "EH EH EH!" he tried to safeword. "Hold him still." Grunt sat, pinning my captive's head, and waited. "Shhh. Look at me." I lowered my face to the floor. "Look at me. I know you can hear me in there. We don't have to do this. Yes. Sh. It's fine. You don't want to do this? That's fine. We don't have to. Are you more willing to suck my boy off, now, darling? Wouldn't it be so much nicer?" My captive blinked at me tearfully, mouth stretched wide. "Would you be willing to try that?" A tiny movement that might have been a nod. "That's my good boy. Grunt, reverse." Grunt knelt, facing my captive, and grasped his hoisted legs. "Lift your chin, dear. There's less gagging that way." My new slave complied, tears streaming. I nodded to Grunt. He smeared his length into the gaping hole. "Please, Ma'am, may I cum?" he pleaded in a strangled voice. "So soon! No, dear, give him a few good thrusts first." Grunt grimaced, thrusting into my captive's choking throat. Just for torment's sake, I whispered horrible things into Grunt's ear as he pumped. He groaned, straining. When at last I gave permission, his whole body twanged like a bow-string, wild and staccato, slamming in to deposit the most massive load of his life. Slave boy coughed and gagged as Grunt slid free, then sobbed openly, like a bawling infant. I reclined beside him, stroking his hair. "Good boy. Yes, you." I kissed away his tears. "See how quickly it's over with when you cooperate?" He sobbed, gurgling. I explored the taste of his mouth. God, I could feel my panties squelching. "Why, we might even do less strenuous things with you tomorrow, if only you start to appreciate your position. You do appreciate your position now, don't you?" He gazed at me in awe, the sobs dying down. "Well, you will by morning. Grunt knows he'll be put in chastity again tomorrow, and he'll want to take advantage of this little break." Grunt had crawled into his corner to rest, I saw, but I knew he would crawl back again soon enough. I gave my new slave one last kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, my dear... when you can." The Executive "Señora..." My erstwhile groundskeeper, shorn of his uniform, entered on his knees. He worked his way over to us and hesitantly presented a cell phone above his head. "Oh, for goodness..." I peeled out of the gloves to grab it. I matched up the number to a monitor and hissed into the receiver. "No, idiot. Kneel on the chickpeas like we discussed. I'm not going to tell you again." I flipped the cell shut and shoved it at Pedro. "Imbecile." Slave boy's head tilted, listening with alarm. "My accountant," I reassured him. "Now, where were we... ah, Pedro. I don't think you've been formally introduced. Pedro, slave boy. Slave boy, Pedro." Slave boy stared, recognition dawning horribly. "Yes, that's him. Now what do you say?" He stammered. I slapped his ass, leaving a white handprint glowing in the field of red. "N-nice to meet you," he blurted. I giggled. "Very good. Pedro, get rid of that thing while I have a little chat with slave boy." I settled on my haunches to gaze into my captive's eyes. Uncertainty circled in them, waiting on my word. And a hint of something deeper, edging towards the surface.... "Now, I have to tell you, slave boy," I confided, "you haven't been much of a slave. You've been nothing so far but a drain on my resources. Food, drugs, research, time..." His eyes dropped. "I'm a busy woman. You've been an amusing diversion, but you haven't really served me. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To serve? To make a powerful woman proud to own you?" He shivered. "And I do own you. Those pictures? We found the unedited versions. I could ruin you. Today, tomorrow, any time I want to. Not to mention the videos of your stay here. Including this one." I crooked a finger. Pedro stepped into his line of sight. Bobbing. "Can you guess what I want you to do?" Slave boy squeezed his eyes shut. "I think you know. You have two choices: either you take it or it takes you." He shuddered, chains clinking. I curled a hand in my captive's hair and pressed my lips to his ear. "I know you like it, deep down. I know there's a good submissive boy in there wanting to please me. I've seen him. Don't fight it. All you have to do is wait for it to be over." He swallowed, eyes averted. "But I know you can do better than that," I added. "You can do so much better. You can do a good job, suck like you mean it. Make me proud to own you. Be a good slave and give me your all." A tear rolled down my slave's face, over his lips. They were nice and full again, hydrated. I kissed them softly. "Will you do that for me?" I studied him. "Yes. I think you will." More tears coursed down, helplessly. "Be gentle with him," I addressed Pedro. "Don't pull his poor, raw skin." My captive's eyes lifted to me and the stifled urge came crashing into them: worship. Love. "Make Pedro nice and big for me," I whispered. I traced his raw lips with a finger. They spread open, waiting. "Do me proud." His mouth widened, tongue peeking out. "Beautiful, Señora." "Yes, I do good work." I nodded. "Go." Pedro stepped forward. Slave boy's face flushed a deeper crimson as he took the shaft in his mouth, welcoming the man who had once assaulted him. He hesitated, then did as best as he could, clumsily sucking and licking. He would get better with practice. Pedro held his head, thrusting slowly. I caressed both of them. "That's my good boy," I breathed. "I'm so proud of you." They whined and pressed harder together. Warm moisture tickled my thighs. "The other hole, Pedro." "Yes, Ma'am." He pulled out. A mew issued from slave boy's mouth as he caught on. He looked to me for reassurance. "Don't be afraid. You're doing so well." I cupped my captive's face in my hands. "I enjoy it so much." I brought my face to his. He held his breath as if afraid to move. I probed his lips and they opened helplessly. I explored with my tongue, searching for that bitter taste of precum. Lovely. I felt his lips ripple as Pedro entered him. He moaned into my mouth. I breathed it in. "That's a good boy. Be a good receptacle for me. Be marked as slave for me..." His eyes had gone distant, blanked, as he offered his body for use. He rocked forward and back over the horse, passively accepting the momentum of Pedro's thrusts. I stroked slave boy's face, smiling, observing, tracing little white streaks with my fingernails.... "Pedro, open your eyes," I snapped. He winced and looked down at his task, hands around hips, rocking. "Pedro hates this," I informed them both. "But you do it anyway, don't you, Pedro?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Why is that?" "Because it pleases you, Ma'am." "Yes it does. Good boy." I rose and approached him. He bowed his head, still valiantly thrusting. I curled my hands in his hair. With a few whispers in his ear, he began pumping in earnest. Pedro slapped slave boy forward on the bench, inch by inch. Slave boy groaned uselessly. I smacked his ass. He lifted it, shuddering. "Oh, that's nice," I purred. Pedro grunted. "And you're doing such a good job, chico," I murmured to him, stirring a hand in my panties. I slid a salty finger into his mouth. "I know you'll leave a nice present in there for me..." He shuddered, groaning. Slave boy moaned as he felt the load fill him. Pedro bowed sheepishly as he pulled out. "You did well, dear. Go clean up and get the others. I think he's ready." "Yes, Ma'am."