"What's your offer?” Roger inquired.
"Well, I can tell you in just a minute. My production manager promised me some last-minute figures before I left. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll call him and then we can talk business. Do you mind if my assistant stays here?"
"No, not at all.” Roger flashed her another grin. El knew this was her chance.
Jack pulled out his cell phone as he left, pretending to call the factory. El watch the door close behind him, then turned all of her attention back to Roger.
"So,” he said, breaking the ice, “how long have you been Jack's assistant?"
"Just a few days. He's bringing me around to some of his clients so they can get to know me. I'm really glad he brought me today.” She gave him her best, shy-but-sexy smile.
"Really? Well, I'm flattered. Tell me a little about your background."
El began telling her about her college education, but wove in a sad tale about coming from a broken home and how hard it had been, living on her own. When Roger inquired about her religious beliefs, she told him how she had lost her faith in the church when her mother died at the hands of a drunk driver.
"But God didn't cause that man to drink and drive,” Roger responded.
"I know, but it was just so unfair. I felt betrayed. My father ran away when I was two and I've never seen him again, and my mom, my anchor, the one who took me to church every Sunday, died three months before I graduated from high school. I felt abandoned, not only by my parents, but by God as well."
"Oh, my child, this wounds my heart to hear your story! Have you had counseling to help you cope with your tragedies?"
"No, sir, I haven't.” El blinked her eyes, trying to make tears form. “I probably should have. I went kind of wild after that, doing drugs and having affairs..."
"Well, I'd be happy to recommend someone—"
El blanched. “No,” she said quickly. “I'm really rather shy about it. In fact, I don't know why I've been telling you all this. There's just something about you that makes me feel very comfortable."
"That's very nice to hear. You know, I almost became a minister at one time, way back when I was about your age."
"Really? I'll bet you'd have made a good one. You have a way of understanding people. I'll bet that's why you're so successful."
Roger was clearly flattered. They chatted a few more minutes, then Roger checked his watch. El knew too much time had passed—if she didn't entice him now, the moment would be lost.
"I've really enjoyed talking to you. If you had been my minister, I probably never would have left the church."
Roger cocked his head. He hesitated for a moment, then said: “I'd be happy to talk to you again sometime, if you think it would help."
She feigned embarrassment, as if she were unworthy of his attention. “Oh, I'm sure you're far to busy to spend time dealing with my problems!"
"No, no. I'd like to help, if I could."
El pressed the button on the cellphone through the pocket of her suit jacket, then told him: “Well, why don't I give you my phone numbers and you could call me?"
He readily agreed. She wrote her home and work numbers down on a piece of paper he provided, just as Jack came back from his “phone call."
"Good news,” he said, eyeing El, then turning his attention to Roger. “My production manager says we can beat your other deal by eight percent."
Roger nodded and said that was certainly worth exploring. He promised to get back to Jack in a few days, after he discussed the offer with his executive staff.
On the way out to the car, Jack whispered to El: “Well, did he bite?"
"I think so. He has my phone numbers."
"Good, girl!” They got in. “Now show me your pussy."
CHAPTER 10
The next morning, Raphael, the Latino limo driver, picked her up. El was disappointed for some reason. Though Jack could be demanding at times, deep down she enjoyed being in his presence. She felt protected, somehow.
Then again, she told herself, riding with Raphael was good for a blowjob, so that's a hundred she wouldn't otherwise have earned. He drove her to the plant before accepting her services. He made her remove her top so he could fondle her breasts while she went down on him.
"Oh my pretty
puta
,” he said, shortly before he came into her throat.
El dressed and got out, then went into the building. On the way, two co-workers asked to see her breasts, so she had to stop and flash them. Another followed her into her office and asked her to lift up her skirt. She obeyed, but when he put his hands on her ass, she told him to go talk to Mr. Sawyer, knowing that would cool his ardor.
The intercom buzzed. She reached over and answered it, letting her left hand rest against her mound. El absently began to rub herself, standing by her desk in full view of the corridor. Her action was automatic. The worker stared, then backed out of the room, shaking his head.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come in, slut."
His tone of voice worried her. El came in right away and stripped. She wondered if she'd be better off just wearing a silk robe to work.
"How may I be of service to you, master?"
He pinned her with his stern expression. “You've violated more of my rules, slut."
Her mind raced. “What? What rules, sir? I've been very obedient."
Jack began to tick them off his fingers. “One, when you were in the car with Ralph and Duane yesterday, you continually referred to me as ‘Jack,’ not ‘Mr. Sawyer', or ‘master', or ‘sir'. Two, you fucked a deli boy and didn't report it to me. Three, you were late for your appointment with Hank."
El could only stare. How did he know all those things so quickly?
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think you wanted to hear about the boy and I don't remember calling you Jack.” She couldn't come up with an excuse for Hank—she had been late, after all.
Jack stood up and removed his belt. “I guess I'm just going to have to punish you until you learn."
El's eyes flew open. She had just started to recover from her last beating. The bruises were just now fading. “Please, no! Anything but that!"
He paused. “Anything?"
She nodded, suddenly feeling trapped. She hoped he wouldn't tie her to her desk naked, in full display of the corridor. He'd threatened that before.
"You didn't shave today, right?"
El was taken by surprise. “Uh, no, sir. You told me not to."
Jack made her get up and he inspected her stubble. He handed her a piece of paper. “Good. I'll have Raphael drive you to this salon. Ask for Angie. They'll do the wax job, and I'm going to call them and add something else."
El's hand flew to her mouth. “What? What are you going to do to me?"
"Don't worry, it's not permanent. Just go and obey them. If not, you may assume the position.” He pointed to the desk.
She stood. “No, sir. I'll go.” She visibly shook as she dressed and left.
Jack smiled. “My little plan is working perfectly,” he muttered aloud. Of course, he made no call. It had all been arranged ahead of time.
* * * *
El's skin felt cold and clammy with nerves as she rode to the address Jack had given her. She sat in the back of the limo, completely naked except for her shoes. Raphael didn't want another blow-job, so he made her strip and sit in the center seat, legs apart, so he could see her in the rear-view mirror. The tinted windows kept her safe from prying eyes.
They arrived at a strip mall and El got dressed. Raphael said he'd wait for her. She went into the salon and asked for Angie.
A thin, bleached-blonde woman in her mid-forties wearing too much makeup came forward. “Oh, you must be El,” she said at once. “We're all ready for ya."
El noticed that Angie dressed a lot like she did—trashy and slutty. She had on a blue mini-skirt and a sleeveless white top, stained here and there with various potions and dyes. She took El into a private room. The act spoke volumes about what she might be in for.
"Take off your clothes."
El obeyed automatically. She was beginning to hate the bother of clothes. She found she wasn't even embarrassed to be naked in front of this stranger.
"Here, drink this.” Angie pushed a glass toward her.
"What is it?” El looked at it warily.
"Don't worry. It's just a mild sedative. Think of it as a cocktail."
"But it's only ten in the morning!"
"Honey, it will make you more comfortable and my job easier.” She shrugged. “Your boss suggested it."
That galvanized El into action. She drank the liquid quickly. It had a medicinal taste.
Angie seated her in the reclining chair. El became alarmed when she began strapping her wrists and ankles down. “What are you doing? Why do I need these?"
"Relax, doll. I just want to make sure you don't jerk. I don't want to hurt you."
"Please! I don't like this!” El wished she'd taken the whipping with Jack's belt. “What are you going to do? Please tell me!"
"We're going to do a Brazilian wax and then we're going to install some very nice pieces of body jewelry."
El tried to get up. She felt suddenly woozy. “No, I refuse! Tell Mr. Sawyer I'll take the spanking!"
"Too late, honey.” Her voice seemed to come from far away. El tried to struggle, but her arms and legs were increasingly unresponsive. Her mind remained alert, but her body seemed to belong to someone else. It reminded her of the feeling she got when she smoked pot. She giggled.
"That's the spirit,” she heard Angie's voice from a distance.
El watched with detached amusement Angie adjusted the chair, separating her legs up and apart. She remembered being on her back on Jack's desk, like a Christmas turkey, while he shaved her. She giggled again.
It was fun to watch the stylist work. Angie scooted up between her legs and examined her coarse stubble. “Not sure we have enough to work with,” El heard her say, “but we'll give it a go. You can always come back for additional treatments."
She painted her mound and sides with a thick, sticky wax. It felt warm and good. Angie then laid thin strips of cloth over it and left them on a long time until the wax hardened thoroughly. El stared between her legs as if she were watching a nature show.
When Angie began yanking the strips off, El felt a slight tug, but otherwise it didn't hurt much. She could see as the strips came off that there was some hair stuck to the undersides.
"That's better,” Angie said when she was finished. El felt her rubbing all around her pussy. She wished she'd rub her clit. “You still have some hairs that were too short to grab, but if you don't shave for three or four days, you can come back and we'll take care of those."
The experience really wasn't so bad. Was she done? No, she recalled, Jack had wanted something else. In place of a punishment. What could that be?
She watched, detached, as Angie went to the door and left for a few minutes. When she returned, another woman accompanied her. El felt exposed with her legs still up and apart like this, but it seemed more comical than embarrassing. She giggled and tried to wiggle her body at the new girl but her motor control was weak.
Angie came and stood by El's head. “This is Claire. She's the piercer."
Piercer? Did that mean what she thought it meant? Suddenly, this didn't seem so funny. “Whaaa?” she said, her voice slurring. “I doan wanna."
"Shush, just relax. You won't feel a thing. Claire's really quite good at this."
El watched as Claire rolled her chair up between her legs. Angie adjusted the neck brace to tip El's head up a bit more. She wanted her to see what was being done to her. Did Jack tell her to do that? Was that part of her punishment?
Claire took a tube of salve and rubbed some into the mound above El's slit. It felt soothing. Soon she grew numb down there. Claire pinched the fold of flesh right above her clit experimentally. With her other hand, she began rubbing her clit gently with her thumb, causing it to rise to greet her. El tried to fight the feeling, but she was helpless. If she'd just keep it up for another couple of minutes...
Claire looked up at El. “I'm going to put a gold ring down here."
Her orgasm retreated. El shook her head and pulled at her bonds.
"It's okay,” the woman said. “I'm not going to pierce your clit—that's way too painful and doesn't provide the desired result.” She held up a small gold ring, about the diameter of a pinkie ring, thin at the top and thicker at the bottom. “This is going to go through the skin just above the clit. The bottom part, which you can see is heavier, will bounce against your clit with every step—that is, if you don't wear underwear, which I'm told you don't.” She patted her upper thigh, just inches from her throbbing pussy. “This is a good thing, El, you'll see. A lot of women do this to keep them in a near-constant state of stimulation."
El thought about that for a second. Claire made it sound pretty good. “It woon hurr'?"
She laughed. “No, it won't hurt. It's going to feel woooonderful."
El relaxed a little then and watched her work. Claire carefully measured where the upper part of the ring should be hung in order to let the bottom part hit just the right spot on her clit. She made a tiny dot on El's skin, then pinched it, drawing it away from the sensitive nerves underneath.
With a piercing tool, Claire punched a thin hole through a fold of flesh. El felt only a pinch. Working quickly, Claire pulled back the prong and threaded the ring through. She wiped up the blood and daubed the area with a healing salve. “There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
El looked down and admired the gold band. It shone against her bronze skin. “It's bootiful,” she managed.
Claire brought out another tool, one that was plugged into the wall. “Now normally, these are made to be easily removed. But Jack asked if I would solder it permanently.” She caught El's surprised expression. “Oh, it's really not permanent. If you ever want it off, you can come to any good piercing studio and they'll remove it."
The soldiering iron hissed and there was a brief feeling of heat and then it was over. Claire brought over a mirror and tipped it up so El could see. The ring lay right at the edge of her pussy, so the bottom part hung over onto the slit. She could see her clit, though fading, poked out just under the edge of the shiny gold ring.