Chapter 3: An offer he can't refuse

It was now Friday.

Monday was when she'd last come to his office.

Back in two or three days, she'd said! By his reckoning, this should have meant Wednesday.

He'd been working well, nonetheless. Working effectively, despite having her in his thoughts a lot.

And that was good. A lot rode on his acumen with company acquisitions — millions of dollars and thousands of jobs could depend upon him at times. Somehow, and unexpectedly, her presence in his consciousness was freeing up synapses rather than obstructing them. Soothing, helping to unclog some of the mental malaise he'd been in since his divorce.

Soothing? Hah! It was also bloody disconcerting, not knowing what she was going to do next. How could she be soothing, yet disconcerting at the same time?

And where was the little tart, anyway?

Oops! He hoped she couldn't read that thought. His balls still ached slightly from the aftermath of his first foolish transgression with her.

Tap-tap-tap. A sound so light he hardly heard it. He released the latch of the door, and she strode in, swinging it shut behind her.

It must be a cleaning day again. She had on a smudged white smock, full-length like a lab coat, with the cleaning company's logo stencilled on it.

Then she put her hands to its lapels and pulled in a single movement, until all its snap fasteners popped open. As the smock slipped from her shoulders to the floor, he gasped in astonishment. There were bare brown curves everywhere. All she had left on was a sheer black bra and shiny black nylon panties. Her thrusting nipples showed clearly as dark circles through the see-thru fabric, and tightly-curled wisps of pubic hair spread more widely across her mound than her panties were able to conceal.

She hadn't yet spoken a single word to him. No "Hi, how's your day been?" or anything like that. Instead she opened her handbag and drew out the velcro restraints, holding them out to him. Rather self-explanatory, really.

He stood and took them from her. As he did so, he snuck one hand out and brushed it across her nipple.

She immediately backed away, covering her boobs with her hands.

"Unnh-unnh! Never touch until I say so!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll take back my two beach balls, and go play somewhere else!"

"I'm sorry. I apologize."

She continued to look at him sternly for a few moments, then let the matter drop.

"Lie down on the floor, on your back."

He got down on the carpet.

"Like this?"

"Move a bit closer to the bookshelf."

He did.

She got busy with the fastenings, fitting the velcro as wrist cuffs and running each webbing across to a secure attachment point. To a sturdy upright of the bookshelf on one side, and to one foot of his big, solid desk on the other. Spreadeagled with arms outstretched like that, there was only about one-foot of webbing as free length either side.

He now knew better than to try and touch her while she busied herself, but his eyes roamed all over her. Such scanty attire left almost nothing to the imagination. So much bare brown skin on show, such firm sweeping curves to her hips and waist, such heavy cargo in that sheer bra.

She stood back to admire her work, and took the opportunity to admire him as well.

She thought he looked lovely. A tall, distinguished gentleman, approaching middle age, in pale-blue business shirt with conservative tie, dark suit-trousers, black shoes, and tied down as if ready for crucifixion.

It gave her such a buzz to see him like this. And he'd gone down so easy for her this time! He really was making astonishing progress.

She knelt to undo his belt and open those trousers. Exposing his cock, she found it to be somewhat on the rubbery side. Poor thing! His mind must be wracked with uncertainties again. She'd better straighten him out — mentally and, ahem! physically.

Stepping until she had a foot either side of his waist, she crouched until she was squatting over him. Her fanny brushed against his lower shirt front, just clear of his dick. She balanced herself in that position by placing her hands on his shoulders. Her bra-clad boobs hung like two dark planets, only inches from his eager face.

"So lover, what do you think is going to happen today?"

"What IS going to happen? Or what would I like to have happen?"

"What IS going to happen."

"You'll let me suck on your tits while you jack me off, right?."

"Wrong."

In a flash she scooted forward and brought her knees down either side of his head. Her feet dug into his ribs, the way a bareback cowboy would grip the belly of a horse. This brought her panty-clad pussy right down on him until was pressed firmly against his face. Looking down between her thighs, all she could see of him was his forehead, and the bridge of his nose. His eyes had bugged open as round as saucers.

She started grinding her hips around, keeping the tip of his nose nudging her clit through the panty gusset, and his mouth and chin pressed against the full length of her slit. Oh, lovely!

He was just about being asphyxiated. He had only brief instants in which to gulp air, at intervals about ten to fifteen seconds apart.

Apart from this, he was being overwhelmed by her pungent pussy smell. He could think of only two things in the world that smell like this, the other of course having fins.

He tried to begin a fight-back, tried to roll his head around to break contact, tried to heave her off with his shoulders. Keeping his head vice-like between her thighs and thrusting her hips down hard, she expertly rode him like a show professional. Tiring, he had to give up and simply let her use him to build her orgasm.

Now that he wasn't thrashing about so much, she was able to go more gently. She aligned his various facial protruberances with her most erogenous nooks and crannys, and just gently rocked. Of the two things in the world that smell this way, he came to decide that he really did prefer this one.

Then she bucked, she groaned, she ground her hips all the more as her inner pulsations reached a crescendo. And then slipped, slid, melted into a pool of chocolate, until she was coiled like a waif at his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that was good!"

This was the time when she really appreciated having her men bound up. Otherwise they always picked this moment to jump on top and fuck her hard, when really she felt like a spent rag-doll.

She looked down at his dick where it emerged from his pants. Sure enough, it was ram-rod straight and twitching slightly up and down. She covered it up with the flat of her hand.

"Did you like having my pussy on your face?"

"It felt like I was drowning. But later-on it was nice. Very erotic. I could really get used to it."

She got up on one elbow and gazed down at him intently with her big brown eyes. Leaned forward to lightly press her soft lips to his cheek, then leaned back again.

"You've been doing so well, sweetie. You're making such rapid progress!"

She kept the flat of her hand upon his prick, stroking it gently. Enough to keep him erect, but not enough to make him come.

"Yeah, I meant to ask you — what was that about a "plan"?"

"Oh yeah. The Plan. My plan is this - I want you to agree to be my love slave."

He looked startled. Instinctively he cast his eyes at the bonds which still restrained his arms. He was getting that sinking feeling again. One of being well and truly snookered.

His first reaction was to say "No way, Ho-zay!" and dismiss the idea out of hand. Yet, under the current circumstances, he could see it might be wise to try and negotiate. At least until she'd released him, and he was at a safe distance again.