Puppet On A String (6 page)

      
“I’m impressed by your calm,
Shelby
. Makes one wonder if you’ve done this before. Let’s see how you suffer through the rest.”

      
When he came back to her again with another needle, he crouched in front of her crotch, lifted her outer labia from the chair and abruptly jabbed needle through the plump skin.

      
She gasped deeply, finding the level of pain in this new location more difficult to control. It was good that she couldn’t move, the ropes might have saved her a lot more pain.

      
The second needle through the other labia hurt just as much as the
first,
and her tolerance for pain was rapidly waning. A third needle placed just above the first and panic struck. She was about to lose it all. Never had she suffered so and her cry came roaring out…

      
“Pluuuuhleeeassssssssssss. Please stop!” Her head shook back and forth while Jessup speared her labia one more time, then he stood above her and watched the torture play out across her face.

      
“You’ll be glad to know that I’m not going to lay you on the rack and fuck you. Although the idea of it is damned appealing, the logistics could get a little messy. I’m not allowed to damage you further. I think the company wants to ensure your further usefulness. But perhaps next time, I’ll just forget about what the company wants. I’ll string you up by your piercings. Give the boys a show. Oh, what a find you’ve been, Shelby Ryan, a damn fine masochist!”

      
If she weren’t in so much pain she would have spit in his face. But the unabated sensations from the piercings made her desire to fight him fall away. To beg now would only encourage his lust for control. So, stoic and angry, her body venting sexual pheromones, she waited, trying to calm herself with measured breaths.

      
He watched her carefully through the next sixty seconds, brow furrowed, eyes in wonder.
Shelby
could feel the pulse in his crotch. Perhaps more painful than the physical torture was knowing that she wanted that cock between in her lips, or in pussy, or even in her ass.

One by one the needles were removed. More pain rifled through her body. More shooting stars behind her lids. More angry endorphins surfacing. More raw and grating discomfort deep inside her belly where even this turned sexual.
 

      
Jessup massaged her breasts when they were free of the needles and she moaned, her aroused body needed badly to come.

      
“You are quite a challenge,
Shelby
. Makes me look forward to our next session.”

      
Then he called to someone outside the cell and promptly three men entered, assisting as the ropes were untied and she was laid over the edge of the table. One by one, her pussy was taken. Two of the men fingered her asshole until she was sure that she’d be taken there too. But then they all slunk off after they spent themselves. Just Jessup and Shelby to pick up the pieces.

      
“Why don’t you fuck me too?” she blurted out spitefully when he made no move to take her.

      
“I’ll bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You pride yourself on being desirable. All females do. But just because my job is to make women like you suffer doesn’t mean that I want to use you too. There are other women for that sort of job.”

***

She was draped over his desk, his juices still dripping from her pussy. She had come, her body having experienced another almost frightening climax. Even now, her belly felt the fluttering post-sex spasms. Every nerve in her had been awakened so that even a faint draft of air across her exposed pussy continued to arouse her. She heard the familiar sounds of him stuffing his cock back inside his trousers and she was about to rise.

      
“Stay where you are!” he barked the command, and so she nervously clung to the desk, while he moved in closer to her and began smacking her ass with his hand. A frightful sting began to rise on her bottom. She strained to get away, but he held her down with his left hand firmly at her waist. When he finished with his hand, he picked up a wooden ruler from his desk and smacked her with that; the pain intensified. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

      
She thought it was finally over when he stopped and moved around to the front of this desk. But he was only there to retrieve a wooden paddle from his desk drawer.

      
“Oh, sir, please!” she wailed.

      
“You’ve kept quiet so far,
Shelby
, you keep that up and I won’t be too hard on you.”

      
“Oh, but sir!” she cried, pouring out all the anguish she felt despite his instructions.

      
Smack!
the
paddle came down against her ass and from that moment her plaintive cries turned into sobs. Firm, measured strokes followed, as if she was being righteously punished for some mistake, some fault. She wracked her brain to understand, but the agony became too great to even think. However, just when she thought he’d never let up, he paused for a moment to massage her burning ass cheeks with his hand, in the process bringing on an unexpected degree of arousal – something almost violently passionate. Pleasure poured down through her body, taking hold in a remarkably short time. Even when he began again with the paddle, the sensuous feelings did not abate. She ground her hips wantingly into the edge of the desk, knowing that another climax was just moments away. If he’d stopped to massage her ass again she would have exploded. But Mr. Darcy must have known her urgent desire because the paddle continued to rain down blows against her bottom until the scorching sting became too much to bear. “No! No!, please, sir please!” she screeched. “Nonononono…” she stomped her feet in anger.

      
All thoughts of pleasure had retreated, hiding in wait for another merciful reprieve.

      
But as he ignored her escalating cries for mercy, she warred inside herself. To run would be catastrophic – she imagined his fury yanking her back to face more pain. And yet to stay and suffer as she was seemed just as impossible with each succeeding smack. About to make a rash bolt for the door, he suddenly stopped and pressed his hand to her crotch, working his fingers into her pussy and rubbing her hard against her clit. Her body instantly grabbed back the erotic fervor from earlier in the session, her mind screaming for joy as the pleasure washed through her again.
Oh, yes, yes
yes
!
her
silent cry.

      
Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and shot off a new command. “Stand up!”

      
“Sir?” Almost lost to a powerful orgasm, she whimpered hearing the abrupt order.

      
“You heard me, Shelby!”

      
She straightened and turned around with her entire body venting lust. She sensed the urgency of his own arousal reaching out to her, making her want to drop to her knees before him and take his cock inside her mouth, but she was not that bold. He turned the moment back on her with his next order:

      
“I want to see you get off with your own fingers.”
 

      
Had she been able to see her face, she would have seen it drain of color first, then turn bright red seconds later.

      
“Oh, I couldn’t!” she immediately reacted, while any erotic feelings rapidly dwindled away.
 

      
“Of course, you can.” He stepped back further, sitting down in an easy chair in the corner of his office where he waited for her to respond. For a long time she stared at him in shocked silence.

      
“But, Mr. Darcy, you have a meeting now!” she finally blurted out.

      
“Do I?” he glanced at his watch. “Ah. I almost forgot. All the better. Go on and let Mr. Jones in. I’m sure he’d like to see this too.”

      
“Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t, I swear.” She’d been holding up her skirt and immediately pushed it down to cover her privates and restore some dignity – scant as it was, considering that her sex juices were making an embarrassing trip down her inner thigh.

      
“I’m surprised,
Shelby
,” his voice turned grave and filled with disappointment. “I would have thought by now that you’d know the price of defying me. This is not for you to think about, for you to decide if you’ll obey. You do as you’re told. That has been our agreement from the start of your employment, and it is certainly not going to change because I demand something of you that may initially be difficult. If you wish to remain employed here,
if
you wish our relationship to continue, you’ll follow my orders regardless of the embarrassment or pain they may cause you. Now be a good girl and raise your skirt just as it was before, go to the door and show Mr. Jones inside.”

      
Shelby
trembled before the man she’d grown to adore, uncertain and questioning. She hesitated much too long for a woman who’d been trained to react immediately. However this time, the man seemed content to wait out her few moments of indecision. Finally, there seemed to be nothing else that she could do. Although the blush across her face was real and filled with shame, she managed to raise her skirt again, move toward the office door and after furtively peeking into the outer office, call to Mr. Jones who was waiting for his appointment with her employer.

      
Mr. Jones was as handsome as Mr. Darcy was hard and rugged. At first, he seemed surprised to find her, the office secretary, exposing herself so blatantly. But that surprise was short-lived. In fact, he seemed hardly shocked at all when he finally nodded pleasantly to
Shelby
, completely ignoring the fact that she was shaking in her shoes with embarrassment and fright.

      
“That’s a nice red ass she has,” he commented to Darcy, after giving her a good long stare. The handsome Jones then moved into the office and shook hands with her employer. “So can I assume that your secretary has been getting a little necessary discipline?” he asked.

      
“She’s assuming the role of my sex slave.”

      
Shelby
whipped around in shock at the words used in reference to her. “Sir?” Again her body seemed to drain of energy. She could barely speak, her small voice sounded frail.

      
“What, dear? Is it so repugnant to think of yourself as a slave to me? It’s what you have become. It’s what I’ve mentioned to you many times. Three short months in my employ and certainly you have become as compliant as any man’s bound slave. I think it’s time that we get the formality of the arrangement handled.”

      
She had been forewarned, not once but many times that something this extreme was clearly in his mind. After that first time in his office, he had sex with her nearly every day over the edge of his desk, his cock taking pleasure in what he described as the ‘unsullied innocence of her spirit and her untried body’. He seemed almost smitten with her. He called her charming – the kind of talk that made her blush. While he enjoyed her coy charms and the velvety tightness of her awakening sex, she learned lessons in submission and physical surrender to the superior male.

      
But
Shelby
had mixed emotions about the abrupt turn her life had taken – after all, she was only nineteen! Although she had few serious expectations for her life, she did have dreams: the charming prince, the virile lover, the handsome suitor. But none of her imaginings made her the love slave to a much older man. Her employer simply slipped himself into her life without giving her a choice, and there was no saying no to the powerful Mr. Darcy.

      
Even now as she gazed at the two men, she didn’t have a clue what to say, or how to respond. Both men were fixed on her with keen eyes and critical expressions, sitting side by side now, as Mr. Jones had taken the chair next to Darcy. She remained stock still in the center of the room some ten feet away from them, still holding up the plaid, pleated skirt to her waist. Her red ass throbbed behind her, while her glistening pussy was completely exposed to their view. The silence gripping their small tableau became profound; for
Shelby
it seemed to scream in her ears.

      
Her eyes began to fill with tears. She knew the truth about Mr. Darcy’s talk of slavery; she knew what was true about their relationship. But to have had it suddenly spelled out so blatantly, no longer couched in sensuous sounding euphemisms, made the truth a little shocking. Even he had once called her a woman of tender years who needed to be treated with some delicacy. She only wished he’d been more delicate with his rash announcement.
 
And before a stranger…?

      
The fight to flee or stay returned again – even though she knew exactly how this battle would end. Mr. Darcy’s chilling statement of fact had brought her to a new level of excitement, like nothing she’d ever felt. Even if she did not yet know what slavery meant, she could not deny that this was exactly where her most outrageous fantasies led. In the dark recesses of her psyche there had always been a thrilling and peculiar place where the most foul desires cavorted unrestrained. But while being a sex slave was a wickedly delightful turn-on, to actually find herself in such a position in her real life seemed preposterous.

      
When she finally regained the ability to speak, she asked as a humble slave might: “What would you have me do, sir?”