Secretaries in Bondage

Morris kept talking, but rapidly and with purpose undid his belt, dropped his pants and tossed them over another deck chair. Underneath he was wearing black leather shorts, too—the masculine equivalent of those worn by his wife you might say, and like her I had yet to see a tan line. It seemed very odd to see a man his age in bondage shorts—and even weirder when he whipped his rod out of them, straddled Cherie's face, and stuffed his dick into her throat through the opening in the ring gag.

I was almost paralyzed by an internal struggle. On the one hand there was my male nature, chomping at the bit to go on a rampage with all these beautiful women tied down in ready-to-fuck positions. On the other hand there was my inner executive, screaming at me to get the hell out of here. My discomfort watching Morris face-fuck Cherie turned the balance in favor of the executive, and I was about to bolt when Morris played his trump card. He turned to look over his shoulder and said to his wife, "Kitty, do help Mr. Edwards get in the mood, would you dear?"

"Yes, dear," she said in monotone.

Kitty...now wait a minute...this was Mrs. Bower... My mouth started to stammer, but now my inner Neanderthal took over as the tan, blonde goddess marched up to me. She struck a sexy pose, then nonchalantly pulled sides of her halter top back so that her breasts spilled out. They were large and round, possibly augmented but if so expertly, and perfectly tan right up to the nipple. I was spellbound by them. It occurred to me that just because she hadn't reacted didn't mean Mrs. Bower hadn't noticed my admiration of various aspects of her, um, talent.

She stood there for a moment, and when I didn't move, she gently reached for my arm and guided it towards her breast. She moved my hand until it was brushing her nipple, then she moved her nipple back and forth against my fingers until I could no longer hold back my desire to feel them. I lifted my other hand to her other breast, tweaking both nipples with my fingers. They were large and firm yet soft and pliable at the same time; they were exquisite to the touch.

"Please touch them harder, Sir," Kitty murmured, "I like it rough."

I gulped and looked at Kitty's face, pulling a little harder on her nipples than before, but she wasn't looking at me; her eyes were focused on my crotch, and her hands had no difficulty finding the outline of the bulge within. She stroked my through my pants while I played with her nipples.Well, technically she's not an employee...I thought. Suddenly her eyes were looking at me, intense and fierce. I was frozen for a moment by them, but she cracked a hint of a smile, and before I'd even realized what she was doing she had my belt undone and my pants were falling to my ankles.

Her hand wrapped around my penis and stroked it with practiced expertise. I gulped again and stammered "I...I..." Then quick as a flash, Kitty was on her knees, and my dick was disappearing between her ruby lips.Aaaahhhhh was all I could think, it felt so good when Kitty caressed me with her tongue. No surprise, this girl KNEW how to suck dick. She swallowed my entire length almost effortlessly, using her tongue and the roof of her mouth to great effect along the way. Involuntarily, I exhaled "Oooohhhh...."

"That's the way, Kitty darling," Morris commented, "Daddy's got something for you later." For just a second, her face cracked a hint of a smile at his promise/threat, then [schlup] my dick disappeared into her throat again.

Morris pulled his dick out of Cherie's mouth and walked up next to us, as if standing next to your wife while she sucked another man's dick was the most natural thing in the world. He patted her head affectionately, "Ah, dear Kitty...she sure does suck a mean dick, eh? Suck a golf ball through a garden hose, that one." She smiled at the compliment. He bent over and slapped her on the ass—and I don't mean gently, I mean HARD. She responded by sucking me with even greater urgency.

"All right now, looks like you're in the spirit..." he said cheerfully. Kitty spit my dick out and stood up. "Pick anywhere you want—just unplug the vibrator and plug away for yourself. Me, I'm intrigued by the predicament Ms. Joy finds herself in..."

"But, Mr. Bower...," I said plaintively, "that would be harassment." Standing on the pool deck with my flagpole pointing at 11:00 just didn't seem to put me in a strong position to be arguing about harassment.

"Is it?" Mr. Bower suddenly challenged, his demeanor completely changed. "What do you know about harassment? Do you know what it takes to constitute harassment?"

I was caught off-guard, literally with my pants down. I guess I didn't know the precise legal definition.

"I thought so," he said when I didn't answer right away, "everyone is so quick to judge when they don't even know what they're talking about. Come here," he added, motioning that I should follow him. I hastily grabbed my pants, only having time to clasp the hook to keep them from falling as Morris strode back up to where Shana was tied. "One...repeated actions of a sexual nature that are unwelcome and persist in spite of requests that they cease," he quoted matter-of-factly as he strode up to Shana. With purpose, he strode up to her and pulled her gag out of her mouth. "What is your name?" he demanded.

"My name is Shana, master," she replied.

"Do you want me to untie you, Shana?" he demanded.

"No, master," she replied. He replaced the gag and held out his hand expectantly, like a surgeon awaiting the nurse handing him the implement she knows he will need. Kitty had somewhere picked up a riding crop, and put it into his hand with a soft [smack].

Morris appreciatively ran his fingers along the redhead's breasts, making sure the nipples were erect. Then suddenly [smack] he slapped the riding crop across them. A little more rubbing, then [smack] again, followed [smack] [smack] [smack] by belts down her torso. Each left a white line that only very, very slowly faded to red.

Morris pulled down her gag again, and asked "Shana, do you want me stop hitting you?"

"No, master," she replied.

"Do you want me to untie you?"

"No, master."

"Do you want me to remove the vibrator under your skirt?"

"No, master."

He replaced the gag again, slapped each of her tits once with his bare hand, and stormed off in the direction of Joy.

"Mr. Bower, I have no doubt that these women are here of their own volition," I pleaded, "but the repeated and unwanted clause need not apply if the situation is sufficiently intense. How much more intense than this can you get?"

"Aha, so you do know a little about harassment," Morris said with a little satisfaction, his demeanor softening slightly "but you are forgetting the all-important qualifier—IN THE WORKPLACE. Are we in the workplace?"

"No, not now, but..."

Morris now removed Joy's gag. "What is your name?" he demanded.

"My name is Joy, master," she replied with the same serious tone as the others.

"Do you want me to untie you, Joy?" he continued.

"No, master," she replied.

"What do you want, Joy?"

"I want to be your servant, master."

He pulled the dildo out of her pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, is that all right, Joy?"

"If that's what pleases you, master," she replied.

Morris shoved his dick into her pussy—I'd gone soft during this argument, but it seemed to make him even harder than he had been.

"Have I ever had sex with you before, Joy?" he continued as he plunged his dick into her well-oiled snatch.

"Yes, master," she answered.

"Have I ever had sex with you on the premises of Better Bonds, Incorporated?" he persisted.

"No, master," she answered.

"Have you wanted me to have sex with you on the premises of Better Bonds, Incorporated?"

"Yes, master."

"What do I do when you tell me you wish to have sex while we're at work?"

"To meet you in your private office at lunch."

Morris now turned to me, still fucking Joy with her one leg tied up in the air. "Because they are on the payroll, you just assumed that I did this on the job too, didn't you? I didn't just fall off the apple cart, you know. I personally rent an office on the seventh floor of BBI's building. I never, ever have sex with anyone on BBI property—not even Kitty."

I had to admit I had made that assumption. "But still...if one of them changes her mind, she could make the case that performing sexual favors was a condition of employment..."

Morris pulled out of Joy with a smile on his face. He stood at a 90-degree angle to me so that he didn't poke me with his erection and put a fatherly, patronizing hand on my shoulder.

"I like you Jack, you think things through before you act on them. That's the mark of a smart businessman. But you just don't get it yet, do you? Come here..." and he walked back down the stairs toward Ellen, who was tied ass-up to the diving board. He knelt down by the board and pulled the ring gag out of her mouth.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Ellen, master," she answered.

"Do you want me to untie you, Ellen?" he asked.

"No, master."

"What do you want me to do then, Ellen?"

"I want you to fuck me up the ass, master."

"What?"

Louder, she answered "I want you to fuck me up the ass, master."

"I'm sorry. I don't feel like it."

"Please, master?" she pleaded.

"Pardon?"

"Please, master? Please fuck me up the ass!"

"Say that again?"

"Please, master, fuck me up the ass!"

He replaced her gag and stood up, addressing me. "Now, my hearing might not be what it once was, but I'm pretty sure I just heard her beg this old man to fuck her up the ass." I nodded in agreement. "Don't you get it—that's not the kind of thing that you turn on and off! Being whipped and then ass-fucked doesn't get you off one day turn your stomach the next! This is goddamn INBRED in these girls—they're never gonna change. I don't know how, I don't know why, but these girls—these are the real deal. REAL submissives. To the core. That's the special talent that they have, one that you can't fake. The only thing that makes them happy is if they make their master happy, and the more depraved they have to be in order to succeed, the better it makes them feel afterward. These girls are NOT gonna suddenly turn on you and cry harassment. These girls are happy as a clam, because I give them the two things they really need in life—a comfortably living, and a domineering master. They are not just consenting—they are APPRECIATING adults. You can see it for yourself—if these girls can't convince you with their words and their actions, I don't know what can. Now if you'll excuse me, Ellen's been very productive today, and I'd like to reward her." With that he whipped the dildo out of her ass, tossed it aside, and plunged his erection into her rectum. I could see just a hint of a smile on Ellen's face as her anus stretched to accept Morris' dick.

I watched Morris ream Ellen for a few minutes—she may have been tied down to the diving board, but clearly she was enjoying it. But it felt awkward watching Morris buttfuck Ellen, and I wasn't willing to indulge myself. I started wandering slowly back up the stairs and towards the house, head spinning. This was the exact opposite of everything they taught us in business school...and yet, I had found it impossible to refute Morris' arguments. He wasn't a dirty old man...scratch that, he was, but he wasn't JUST a dirty old man. He had thought this through thoroughly before proceeding. And the benefits...I was just passing by Joy, and she was totally open and inviting. I turned my head away quickly and continued to head slowly towards the door. My little head and my big head were engaged in a battle royale, and the big one was just barely holding the edge. I trudged past one column, and then the next.

I heard a small jingling sound to my right. I turned towards the sound and found Shana looking at me—in my inner state I'd momentarily forgotten she was there. But what struck me was the look in her eyes. Her eyes were lovely green, a perfect compliment to her red hair—and there is no doubt, red hair is my weakness. She was simply gorgeous—but her eyes, they were so sad. They looked at me like someone had just run over her puppy. And the way they fixed on me, it seemed to be telling me that it was me—either my leaving or my ignoring her—that was making her sad. I averted my eyes, and as I did I saw the light welts on her fine porcelain skin that had been left by the crop. I don't know why, there was just something surreal about them. I found myself slowly reaching my hand towards the welt across her flat belly, wanting to touch it to see if it was raised on the skin or merely discoloration. I just barely touched it, ran my finger along it as gingerly as if it were a knife blade. Yet I could not help but feel how smooth her fine, pale skin felt.

I started to withdraw my finger, when suddenly I noticed something. Shana's nipples, which had been more or less at half-mast, had suddenly snapped to full attention. What the hell—had her nipple gotten hard just from the gentle touch of my finger on her belly? Seeking to understand the meaning of this, I looked back at her face, and discovered that the expression in her eyes had changed. Where before they had conveyed sadness, they now seemed to be begging me, "please touch me." I looked back at those rock-hard nips and Morris' words about not being able to fake this kind of submissiveness rang through my head. I studied her face intently while slowly reaching for one of them...

Expressively, she closed her eyes briefly with pleasure as I touched the tender pink nipple. Then she re-opened them, and they still seemed to be saying the same thing: please touch me, please do whatever you want with me. I gulped and pinched her other nipple with my other hand. She responded in exactly the same way.

I was completely drawn in by those eyes. I was now pawing her delicate white breasts like a hungry lion, but those eyes locked in on mine. It seemed like they were saying "I'm here to serve you. I'm only happy if my body make you happy." I don't know which was more infectious—the feeling of her breasts in my hands, or the siren's call of her eyes. All I know is I completely lost track of my surroundings, and thoughts of harassment and appropriate corporate conduct slipped further and further back in my consciousness. All I could think about was the feeling of her breasts, and the way her eyes invited me to explore further. She may have been the one tied to the column, yet she was a Venus flytrap, and I was a fly helplessly caught up in her spell.

I was so wrapped up in this silent dance I didn't notice Kitty approaching until I heard a metallic sound ringing very close to my ear. Startled, I saw Kitty standing behind the column, wielding what I would call a machete. I panicked for a second as she raised it again, but her swing landed on the marble of the column with another metallic [clang]. As the same time, Shana started to rapidly wriggle her wrists, and the ropes that bound them started to come free. I realized Kitty was using the knife to quickly cut through the ties binding her to the column just as there was another [clang]. I realized that she had been unobtrusively watching my every move; having seen me respond to Shana, she quickly came by to ensure that I could be properly served. Kitty may look and dress like a porn star, I thought, but I made a mental note to myself to NEVER underestimate what she was capable of.

Just then Shana's hands came free, and the ropes around her torso fell away. With the ties still on her ankles, she dropped to her knees and reached for my waist. My pants were still held up just by the one hook I had hooked in my earlier haste to follow Morris. Before Kitty's last swing had even cut through the ropes on her ankles, my pants had fallen to my ankles and Shana was caressing me in her mouth.

Shana wasn't quite the dick-milking machine Kitty was—but it wasn't for lack of trying. Her gag reflex was just more sensitive, and she couldn't swallow quite as much of me at once. But she was eagerly stimulating me with her tongue, and Kitty didn't have natural, flame-red hair for me to gently hold on to while her head bobbed up and down on my cock.

Next thing I knew those green eyes were looking up at me again—only this time, she was watching my face to see how I reacted to various oral stimulations. She took her hands off me for a moment, still sucking, so that she could remove her jacket and blouse. Tossing them aside, she held the base of my penis in her hands and stroked me up and down in counterstroke to the movements of her mouth. I gulped yet again—perhaps I was wrong in my initial assessment that wasn't as effective of a dick-milking machine as Kitty!

My steadily building arousal reached a plateau when Kitty returned, standing very near to me. She knelt behind Shana and began to do something with her ankles. She didn't just pull away the now loose rope, however—she replaced it with leather ankle restraints. Apparently this was a well-practiced drill, for no sooner had Kitty slipped the second anklet off that she let go of my dick with one of her hands and held it behind her at a right angle. When she switched and did the same with the other hand, I was that she now wore a matching wrist restraint. When that was on, Kitty gently reached below Shana's chin and wrapped a slave collar around her neck, buckling it snugly around her neck but making sure she didn't interrupt Shana's oral activities. Finally, she unstrapped the vibrator from her leg.

Then Morris appeared, walking up the stairs. He had a big smile on his face now. "So it took Shana to break down the final wall, huh? Let me guess—you've got a thing for redheads." I flushed slightly and shrugged sheepishly, but mostly I was entranced by this amazing blowjob. "Nothing to be ashamed of, and besides, even if you weren't Shana is still quite the looker, eh?" I said nothing, but she somehow seemed to smile when she heard this in spite of her mouth being stuffed full of my dick.

"Stop, Shana!" Morris suddenly said sharply, and she froze in mid-suck. "She's good, ain't she?" He said to me now. "If I didn't stop her she'd have sucked your load right out you, and you wouldn't have a chance to try out the rest of her." Now to her again, he ordered "Shana! Deck chair!"

Without a word, she stood and began slowly walking towards the stairs and pool level. Morris put his arm on my shoulder—a very strange experience, considering we were both sporting full erections—and he said "Come, now that you're getting started, see just how special these girls really are." We walked after Shana down the stairs.

When we got back to the pool level, Shana was standing next to the first deck chair, facing out towards the pool. She reminded me a little of a soldier at inspection, except of course that she was topless and wearing slave restraints. "Sunny side up, or over easy?" Morris quipped.

It took me a second to realize he was asking how I wanted Shana to lie on the deck chair. "Uh, sunny side up" I said once I'd figured it out. Shana immediately lay on her back on the flattened deck chair, holding her hands up over her head—perhaps to allow me to chain them to the chair if I wanted, like Cherie.

I was still pondering this when Morris interrupted "you can't fuck her like that—tell her to open her legs!"

"Uh, open your legs?" I said hesitantly. It came out sounding like a question rather than an order. She parted her thighs a few inches.

[Smack] Morris playfully punched me in the arm. "Not like that, you dolt, like you're a drill sergeant. Or like she owes you money!"

"Open your legs!" I repeated with much more conviction, and added as an afterthought "and pull up your skirt." She reached for her skirt and pulled it up to her waist. Then as she put her hands back over her head, she drew in her knees and parted her thighs as far as possible.