Working Away

Working Away

By RopeBinder

Part I…Lunch

It was a busy week, a busy workweek, yet he'd set time aside to meet her. Now back at his office, a million things to do, he sat, thinking...daydreaming. He should have been concentrating on something else, but his attention wavered. Images flashed before him, her smile when they first met, black knee-highs gripping her lower thighs, her expression as he playfully grabbed a chunk of her hair. It was no use. He worked halfheartedly.

Their time had been brief, two hours to be exact. Halfway through lunch, rain attacked the window behind them. What did it mean? Death in fiction, but not this time. It meant something else. He wasn't sure. Conversation was pleasant, tight yet easy, passing over subjects uncommon with the lunch crowd. They talked, at times nervous of eavesdropping ears and at other times not caring. Her smile came easily. Her gestures told him what she wanted, what she was hoping he'd see, but unfamiliarity kept them distant. This would take time.

Their goodbye was cute and uncomfortable. She tried to duck out, but he called her back, wanting another look at her tiny frame dressed in black. They smiled, embraced and pecked each other, destiny unknown.

Sliding into her leather car seat, he challenged, "Raise your skirt."

She smiled sassily, "No."

He smiled again. He expected her to fight. That was her nature, a fighter, 5'2" of feisty determination. Perhaps she thought he didn't understand. He was difficult to read. He was mysterious. They would be marvelous together.

The next day, he picked up the phone and asked her to meet him. She didn't know why she agreed. She needed time to think, but she was drawn. A magnet pulled her. Two hours later, they stood toe to toe.

"You want to fight with me, don't you?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, taken by surprise.

"You know exactly what I mean," he countered, "You want me to take you, to brandish my desire for you."

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "I'm still uneasy about things, our common ground, your needs."

"Nonsense," he quipped, "only two things matter...our desires and how we funnel them."

He reached for the nape of her neck, caressing it with his fingers, playing with the tiny hairs draping her skin. He caught her eyes with his...both frozen. He slowly gathered her hair in his hand, some in his palm, some tangled with his fingers. Improving his grip on her mane, they breathed quicker now.

"Let's be clear," he whispered, "I don't expect you to come willingly, but I know your desire. Our arrangement will be flexible. I care not if one day you're the willing submissive and the next you're a feisty opponent, but understand that the result will always be the same. You will be mine. Do you understand?"

She said nothing. With playful anger in her eyes, she tried to spin from his grasp, but he tightened it.

"This will get as rough as you want," he continued, "I hope we don't come to blows. I don't want to get hurt," he smiled, knowing her vicious uppercut, "but I will defend myself and in the end, you will lose."

His smile softened her. She smiled, but still tried to break free. He pulled her closer, as much to protect himself as to feel her beating heart. Tugging her hair downward, he exposed her neck. He thought briefly of vampires and bent his lips to her flesh. She smelled fresh...womanly. He sucked her through his nostrils, then his lips, finally chewing on her neck, letting her know the possibilities. With a surprising toss by her hair, he threw her to the floor. Caught off guard, she landed in a heap, legs and arms pointing different directions.

"Sara, I will often give you choices," he said with a serious tone, "Each option will typically end in the same result, but I will let you choose the method or path. I will do this to measure how deeply your needs run, but sometimes it's purely for my amusement. For instance, right now, I want you to remove your clothing...ALL OF IT. If you're reluctant, I will assist you. If your mood is stubbornness, I will cut them from you, although it pains me to think of ruining your outfit."

She sat motionless. She didn't know what to say or if she was ready. They'd only met yesterday. "Why is he doing this?" she thought, "Why must I leave my comfort zone now?" She was paralyzed.

He went to the chair and waited. Several minutes of silence passed. Then she rose and delicately shed her clothing. She stood before him, hands in front, covering herself, shortened breath, chest slightly heaving, nipples tightly knotted, nervousness pervading. He loved this moment, the exhilaration of anxiousness. She loved it also. He sat a moment longer. In silence he drank in his first gaze at her flesh. His desire mounted. He called inside himself for control. He rose and walked behind her.

"Hold still," he said reaching around her body. With the slightest touch, his fingers traced along her upper thighs and across her stomach, then over her breasts and tightened nipples. He rested his hands near her neck, on her collarbone.

"Are you excited?" he whispered, just wanting her hear her answer.

"Yes," she exhaled.

"Good," he whispered, directly into her ear.

His fingers continued exploring. He closed his eyes wanting to know her body. This was the first step. Their breathing collaborated. His chest and stomach pressed against her back. She nestled her head to his chest. They floated away before he stopped and backed away. Now he stood in front of her. Tipping her chin to his, faces inches apart, he spoke.

"I want to kiss you, but that will wait. I want to whip you, but you're not ready," he stared into her eyes, "First, we'll test your desires, a simple test. It will go on as long as you tell me. The difficulty is that your words will be meaningless. Come...I'll show you."

He sat on the edge of the bed and with a gesture and a firm grip on her wrists pulled her over his thighs. Her chest and stomach supported her weight on him. With his left arm, he held her shoulders tightly to his thigh. Her arms and legs dangled freely.

He continued, "I enjoy spanking, but in my mind, it doesn't compare to whipping. I find whips more versatile and more fun, but spanking provides an intimacy that's difficult to duplicate. My hand against your bottom will give me a better feel for your desires and limitations. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jeffrey." It was the first time she'd spoken his name.

"I believe that thresholds are difficult to discuss," he said. "Pain clouds the mind, but never the senses. Irrelevancies and mirages can be mistaken for reality. I believe there is nothing your words can tell me that your body can't tell me more accurately. Am I being clear?"

"I'm not sure...I think so," she said with apprehension.

"For example, I'll stop spanking you intermittently. It will give you a reprieve and a moment for me to examine your needs. During each pause, I will dip my fingers into your pussy. If you're dry, we'll stop. If you're wet, we'll continue until my hand tires. Is this acceptable?"

Pausing briefly, Sara murmured, "Yes, Jeffrey," but she knew her fate. He hadn't touched her and her pussy was drenched. Had he opened her flowered lips, she was certain her fluids would stream to the floor. She closed her eyes and waited, amazed at how differently she saw him than 24 hours ago.