She shut herself in her office that morning, telling her secretary that she needed the time to digest the pile of reports about their financial operation, before meeting with the representative from Wilson's.
She settled down to it and worked at the reports with a will, even though her mind kept wanting to stray into 'forbidden territory'. She fought that. But also realized that it had been a long while, a very long while, since she'd done anything about, what she called 'her thing'.
She pushed the thoughts away and tried to keep them at bay by promising that she'd take a break later and let the thoughts sweep over her, take even momentary possession of her. She was fine with that for the moment, and proceeded with the work.
Vanessa Ward was the CFO of the company, a company related to the defense industries. At 37 she was a marvelously beautiful woman. She had passion and drive; she was determined to do the best job possible and had been a very popular CFO for the company. She had in her background a number of really heavy women, and she always remembered that. She struggled to eat lightly and keep her weight under control. She was not a workout freak but did pay attention to workouts in the company's facility in the basement of the building, at least on a periodic basis.
She invariably attracted attention, when exercising, and wearing her workout clothes, the pants a bit loose, which she normally topped with a long tee shirt. Despite her urges, she wasn't in the frame of mind to be showing her shapely butt to any and all comers. But she still was the real package, with her large breasts and hair tightly curled to her head.
(Of her hair she often quipped to herself that it was only a 'handful'. But that kind of thinking was counter productive just now: thinking about a strong willed white man with his hand firmly lodged in her short curly hair holding on and keeping he face up where he could 'use it' ... And this thought was only relieved by the accompanying thought of that tight hand hold gripping her curly pubic hair.)
She caught herself at that point with her hand easily resting in her lap and putting pressure on her pubic area. She quickly moved her roaming hand and pushed those kinds of secretly dirty and delightful thoughts away from her and went back to her work on the financials.
After that, however it wasn't as easy to push the thoughts away but she determined that she'd have another half hour of work on the reports and then she'd take a break. The rep from Wilson's wasn't due for another hour and a quarter. She knew she'd have a little 'fantasy' time and that was fine. She made herself a promise.
She worked the reports and was quickly up to speed on what they were saying and what would be the basis for the talks with Wilson. She was confident about it. These talks, also, were only preliminary talks to see if there were projects that the two companies could hope to work on together for mutual benefit.
With a sigh, she came to the end of the reports, and set them down. She gave herself a moment to get it all kind of straightened out in her mind and then she settled back in her chair. Her hand drifted down to her skirt, and she told herself with a kind of lewd chuckle: 'Not at work, girl! You just let that pussy alone!'
A loud voice in her mind proclaimed a 'drat' at that point and it made her laugh. She reached for the intercom and asked her secretary, Margie, to bring her a cup of coffee.
"Will do, boss," Margie said and in a very short while was there with the coffee. Margie made the best cappuccino around.
Vanessa tasted it and said: "Oh, you should get a kiss for this; it's marvelous!"
Margie giggled and said: "Goodie for me, kissing the boss!"
Vanessa joined her in the giggle and said: "Okay, out brazen one!" It left Vanessa working to suppress her feelings of at least lust for Margie. She simply, as usual, pushed them away.
Margie; made a face and said: "Rats! No kiss for Margie!" Then she grinned at Vanessa and swished out of the office, with Vanessa promising to file the feelings that Margie was raising and think about them some other time. For right now, she decided, she would give herself over to those 'fantasy' thoughts.
Her mind wandered into areas that she normally forbade herself to think about during the day but there was pressure here. She hadn't been out acting on her fantasies for such a long time, and she was feeling the inner pressure to find some release.
When she gave herself the time and thinking room, when she allowed it, she simply went to a place in her mind where she dwelt as the contented, used sex slave. It was Vanessa's thing, a closely guarded secret. She knew that no one would be aware of it, except for the right kind of man, who would know immediately. He would know right away what Vanessa was really like:
He'd sense that she spent time in the evenings, prowling chat rooms where she could present herself as a submissive. She loved using dirty words about herself in these contexts because, for all of their ugliness, they spoke to the kind of men that she wanted to attract. There were the demands that she'd receive, when she found anyone. It normally ended with Vanessa sitting at her computer almost naked, or many times totally naked and saying, promising dirty, dirty things to the man, or, at times, woman, who would be right then making demands.
It was delicious! This was the former fat, black girl who now was the siren! Who now was the courtesan! Who now was the one who was desired, and who received the orders to take clothes off and do things to herself. She was frequently tempted to go further and send out demanded photos of herself or get on a cam with some of these men or women but up to that point she was determined not to.
When the need was great on her, as it was getting to be at that time, she went out, looking. At times her 'looking' got her into potential trouble. Those 'trouble times', normally involving a group of men, that she hadn't realized would be involved, were now the content of her playtime fantasies. She'd up to that point avoided true danger.
She remembered the one time that she did end up at a remote place. He'd tied her loosely to a chair and fed her his dick, and then, drinking all the while, told her that he was going to beat her, and burn her and generally enjoy her. It was only after he slumped into his chair, his chronic drinking taking possession of him at last, that she let herself go, realizing that she'd narrowly missed a dreadful scene and left.
(Of course, ever after, when Vanessa visited that scene, she wondered how the rest of it, that he'd had planned, would have felt. It made her wet thinking about it.)
She finished her cappuccino then and tried to reorganize her thoughts, letting the fantasies slip away. It was then that Margie came in and told her that Ben Wright, the man from Wilson's was there for her.
"Thanks, Margie," Vanessa said. "You can show him in."
The fact that she watched Margie's skirt covered butt almost avidly, as her secretary left, and let her mind drift onto thoughts of what kind of panties Margie was wearing, was a kind of sign to her that her fantasies were not totally stowed. But she made the effort and said to herself that she needed to get down to business.
She greeted Ben Wright, as he came into the office. She felt the immediate effect of his wild, blue eyes on her. It was as though he'd stepped out of one of her fantasies.
He smiled and said: "Ms Ward!"
She corrected him with a soft: "Vanessa, please!"
He had her hand in his then and smiled again, and she was dazzled, as he said a soft: "Vanessa, very nice!"
Dealing With Ben Wright:
Then he simply held her hand, while looking at her, into her eyes. She felt herself almost shrinking. In those few seconds —-were they only a few seconds or were they an eternity for Vanessa? She wondered —-she was assaulted by her inner voice, the one that she worked at keeping silent during work time, work hours.
"Strip!" the voice said, "Kneel! Kiss his hand! Take your clothes off! Get naked and put your hands behind your back to let him do what he wishes and what he will."
She shook the thoughts from her mind but not from the edge of her consciousness, and said to him:
"It's a treat to welcome you! We at Warren and Reed are hoping for cooperation between us that will benefit both of us, help us to meet mutual needs and build a relationship."
She winced inwardly, when she realized how that sounded and he was giving her a huge knowing smile, in the meantime.
"I agree and hope for the same kind of cooperation between us. But I foresee no problem in getting that started," he said, meeting what seemed like her hidden meaning with one of his own.
At that point, Vanessa was starting to lose control of herself. She felt a wetness gathering in her panties, and she fought to not let that part of her mind and wishes take over.
She stepped back and smiled at him, once more in control of herself, with her mind on business. He realized it. She knew that right away, for he nodded his head and acknowledged her having taken a step back and having gotten into her negotiating mode.
He dropped her hand but the blue eyes still blazed at her, and she fought not to become a captive, yet!
"Coffee? Something else?" she asked, and then added: "Mr Wright."
He smiled at her and said: "Make it Ben, please."
"Yes," she said, only barely avoiding adding 'sir' to her 'yes' comment. "Ben."
He smiled again and asked for a cup of coffee.
She went to the intercom and buzzed for Margie, knowing that he was watching her, and, perhaps unnecessarily, bending over the desk to reach the intercom. As she did, displaying her ass, she knew and, since the skirt was tight, probably the outline of her panties, she heard him chuckle.
She ignored the noise and tried to simply get her mind back on business. When Margie brought in their coffee, they both watched her as she came and went. Once again Vanessa was aware of the outline of Margie's panties through her tight skirt and it made her tingle. She sensed that he felt the same way.
"Thank you, dear," she said to Margie and got a huge grin in return.
She turned then and saw him watching her, taking the scene in and, she was sure, understanding her desire to simply grab her secretary and get that skirt pushed up and apply her mouth to the front of Margie's panties. It made her catch her breath.
Then he was standing by the desk, and smiling. He was just enjoying what he'd witnessed. There was a small sitting alcove off by the outside wall and he asked her: "May we sit here? It'll be nicer, I believe."
"Yes, of course," she said, again narrowly avoiding the 'sir', which she almost attached to the sentence.
They sat and she realized immediately that her skirt had ridden up and was showing a bit of thigh, almost all the way to her stocking tops —- she was wearing thigh highs that day.
She made no move to adjust. In the back of her mind, she knew that he wouldn't want her to adjust the skirt downward.
"Shall we get to it?" he asked, pulling her out of her continuous fantasy reveries.
"Yes, Ben," she said, "Sorry, it's been a long day already."
He put out a hand and said: "Now, no 'sorries' for us; not right now!"
The statement hit her like a blow and she sucked in her breath. He was smiling and she knew that he was aware of the effect that he was having on her.
Vanessa was nothing, if not forthright, and she decided to maybe straighten out herself and this situation by acknowledging it.
"I'm sorry to seem to be adolescent here," she said softly. "It's not like me usually."
"Thank you for saying that," he answered, staring at her, and then glancing down at her exposed thighs.
She made a move to straighten her skirt but he intervened and said: "No, leave it!"
It was an actual beginning. She realized that. He had simply given an order and she had no desire or will do deny the order or not perform it. Her skirt was left where it was, the tops of her thigh highs showing and a bit of chocolate skin above the thigh highs. It left her fevered mind swirling with thoughts about how many paltry inches were left down there before he saw her panties.
The thought shot across her mind of her being in one of those delicious chat rooms being told, demanded to take her clothes off, and she be doing it, right away.
She pushed the thoughts away but they had already done their job, for it was then that she broke. "Yes, sir," she said, and he chuckled, running his hand along the side of her face, taking advantage of that moment. It made her involuntarily wince.
"No, not now; not yet!" he said, and she said another 'yes, sir!' to him.
He let it lay there. A kind of relationship had indeed been established, and she realized that they later would take up again.
She nodded at him, acknowledging what he said and they began their negotiations.
Vanessa was very good at her job, and also good in these kinds of business situations, and that came to the fore, as they talked. He acknowledged as much, complimenting her about the way she was conducting herself and their talk.
"Thank you," she said. The 'sir' was only a memory at that point, but a memory that she hadn't let go of at all. He smiled, realizing that, and she smiled in return.
They worked through their extensive agenda, discussing one item after another. Both of them confident and both of them sure of what they needed from the other partner in this negotiation.
They worked for a few hours, taking a break now and then, when Vanessa asked Margie to bring them each a salad and a cup of coffee, before she left for the evening.
It gave them both the time to take in the shape of Margie's ass again. And as soon as Margie had left the room, Ben turned to Vanessa, a sly smile on his face and said: "Makes you wonder what kind of panties she's wearing."
Vanessa fell in with that immediately, since it had been on her mind frequently during the day —- a sure sign of her inner turmoil.
"Yes, sir," Vanessa softly answered, "It really does."
He chuckled, as they sat to the salads and said: "Maybe have a secretary naked day!"
She grinned at that thought.
"You're thinking dirty thoughts!" he said.
"Yes, sir!" she said.
"Hold those until later!" was his reply and it got another 'yes, sir!' from her.
They sat companionably then and ate their light dinners, with both of them backing off from the abyss that they'd come to with the talk about Margie, and exchanging bland information about each other. Ben mentioned that he had borrowed a friend's apartment for the night.
"It's not highly furnished," he said, "But it will serve its purpose, and it does have a bed for me and a lot of unused floor space."
Vanessa only nodded at the information, and then, the salads done, they went back to their negotiations. They had only a few more items to cover. To that point they had been in almost perfect agreement about the projects that they were discussing and that their companies would be working together on.
The negotiations seemed to go very well for them.
"You do this very well, Vanessa," he said.
"Thank you," she said, "I can certainly say the same for you."
They finally arrived at a place where they had reached broad agreements about the items that they'd be recommending to their companies for further meetings. At least they were able to get the financial ground work taken care of on the items that needed agreement. Their meeting had at least done that much, and they were both pleased.
"I guess that's a wrap!" he said, sitting and smiling at her.
Vanessa felt herself falling back into her fantasy mode, almost as soon as the negotiations were finished. She didn't try to fend it off either.
He put his hand on top of hers and said: "I want to thank you for this opportunity. It's important to Wilson, and I appreciate your open attitude about it."
"It's going to help both of our companies," she replied and he smiled.
Then he asked her: "Would you like to get together this evening?"
"Yes," she said without any hesitation. "I'm not much of a drinker though."
"We'll see about that," he said pleasantly.
She went on then: "But may I please have time to go home and clean up, maybe change my clothes? I'd like that."
His strange and enigmatic smile continued and he asked: "Are you asking permission, Vanessa?"
She gulped. This point was being reached rather quickly but she made no mental kind of defense. She didn't even think of pushing the point off until later. She simply responded:
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Won't that be a treat," he said. "Here, I'll give you the address where I am and you can come to me, when you're cleaned up, changed and ready."
"Yes, sir," she said simply, and, obeying an instinct, she leaned forward to kiss him; it would be a kind of promise of what was to come.
He held up his hand to fend her off. She stopped, surprised and chagrined.
"You haven't won that right yet, have you, Vanessa?" he said softly.
"No, sir," she said, "I don't think that I have."
She lowered her face, embarrassed but he put a finger under her chin and raised her face.
"We'll deal with that later, won't we, Vanessa?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; we'll deal with that later! I'm sorry to be so forward!" she said.
"Forward is nice at times," he said, "But it's really important to remember what your place is; don't you think, Vanessa?"
(By that point the transformation in their relationship, which had been edging along during their meeting, was complete. They were no longer equals representing their company. He had simply taken her in thrall and she had almost no will of her own.)
She looked up at him and said: "Yes, sir, it is really important to remember what your place is!"
(Everything, now that business was done, was getting more and more intense for her, and she found herself loving it, despite the fact that there was always a tinge, a hint of danger for her.)
Then he extended his hand and she knew immediately what she needed to do. She took the hand and kissed his palm and the back of the hand
"Very nice," he said to her and she thanked him yet again.
Then Ben Wright simply left. He didn't look back. He simply left, she stood there staring and, she realized, panting.
"Oh my!" she said to herself, already picturing the lovely, and turbulent evening that she was going to have.
But Vanessa knew where he'd be and what she needed to do: go home, shower, clean up and get dressed to please him, this superlative, sexy man.
Those words were surging through her mind, as her hand, inadvertently went down under her skirt to where her pussy hair was.
"Stop it until later, hot pants!" she said to herself. "Everything later!"
She went home and showered, thinking all the while, and getting more and more excited. It was all that she could do to keep from playing with herself, especially in the shower. But she held off, pushing it all off until later, when she'd be with him.
She was very careful with what she put on. She wore a pair of pink tinted thigh highs, and pink, lacy bikini panties and a matching bra. She wore a pleated skirt, pulling up the waist band to make sure it was short, and an over blouse with a gold chain around her waist. Her heels were 5 inches. She regarded herself in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw.
"The slave looks nice!" she said to herself. It made her giggle; these little bits of conversation, in such situations as this, always made her giggle. She loved doing it, talking to herself that way and indulged herself, when the mood, as now, was on her:
"Nigger slut for Mr Ben!" she said next in a whisper, feeling desperately guilty for using the ugly word but then she said it again for herself, and loved it all the more.
"You'd best go, girl!" she warned herself, "Lest you cum in your panties!"
That got a giggle from her again, and she said a final: "Okay, nigger slut is out of here! Mr Ben, here I come!"
He picked her up at an assigned time and they went to the apartment that he'd mentioned. Once there, he stood in the doorway, before letting her or inviting her in, and simply stared at her.
It made her nervous after a bit but he was only staring at her with a smile on his face.
"Magnificent cunt!" he said in a soft voice, and she had an involuntary intake of breath.
He stood back and let her enter. She walked past him, and then he spoke again:
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked.
"You called me a 'magnificent cunt'," she said back to him.
"And so you are," he said.
"Lovely skirt!" he said.
"Thank you, sir," she said, realizing that everything, all of this and what was coming and would happen were on his terms, exclusively.
"Twirl!" he said.
Before she even thought, she said: "You just want to see my panties!"
The look on his face, the sudden scowl, the gathering storm there said it all back to her. Without even another thought, she twirled for him. It sent her pleated skirt out far enough that her pink bikini panties were on display.
He said nothing; he only watched, and she twirled again. He let her do that four times, before he said to her: "Yes, enough," and she stopped.
"Sorry to be mouthy and slow about that," she said with sincere regret.
"There shouldn't be so many 'sorries' tonight!" he said to her.
"No, sir," she said, "I will try to see to that."
Vanessa was conscious of how easy it might be to screw this up by being too slow to respond to what he wanted.
He let her standing there and walked over to the bar at the side of the room. There was a glass there that had liquor in it. He picked it up.
The room was tense just then, and she knew that it was because right off the bat she'd displeased him with her quick remark about him wanting to see her panties, if she twirled.
He brought the glass back and said: "Here have a drink."
Without thinking, yet again, she said: "I don't drink!"
Ben had been waiting for something that would define their evening. He was sure that it would happen and it almost did with the twirling thing but then she got into it and twirled until he told her to stop, in the process showing her wonderful thighs and the beauty of her panties, with their telltale dark spot of pubic hair at the apex of her legs. Now, however, in saying that she didn't drink, he had his incident.
He slapped her face from one side and then he slapped the other cheek.
Vanessa was surprised, taken aback, and had tears in her eyes immediately. It was as much, she realized, from her understanding that she'd made yet another mistake as it was from the slaps.
"Okay," he said, "We will get things very straight right from the beginning. Take your clothes off, every fucking stitch of them! Do it right now!"
His very tone and her own inclination to do what she was told —- she was determined about that now, especially with the two gaffs already to her credit. She didn't hesitate but began by unbuttoning her over blouse and unhooking the gold belt that was around it. She took it off and looking around and then at him for directions, which seemed to please him, was told to fold it and put it on the bar. She did.
She looked up then, unwilling to take any initiative about the order for taking her clothes off. He smiled at her.
"Skirt!" he said and she unhooked her skirt and let it slide down, stepping out of it. She stopped then, again not assuming what he might want. It made him smile again.
"Same place; same way!" he said and she folded the skirt and put it on the bar, showing him the sway of her ass cheeks, as she moved toward the bar.
"Very nice!" he said to her, and she thanked him. "Nice, nice black ass!" he said, as she stood and waited for instructions. She thanked him again then for the comment. Her politeness was a turn on for him as well as for her right then.
"Stockings!" he said.
"May I sit?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he said, "Just there," pointing to a chair by the bar, where she sat and removed her shoes and then her stockings. He made a move and adjusted the angle of her sitting, so that her dark pubic hair was apparent through her panties.
"Better!" he said, and got another 'thank you, sir, ' from Vanessa.
She stood again and he said: "Bra!"
She complied and unhooked the front hook of her bra, and let her breasts swing free. That seemed to please him, and by then Vanessa was wet and excited. She stood and waited for his instructions and he indicated her growing pile of clothes, where she placed the bra.
He let her stand there then for a long minutes, his eyes hungrily scanning the beauty of her dark skin, and even darker nipples. The push of her bushy pubic hair against the front of her nylon panties.
"Turn," he said, and she did, very slowly.
"Bend," he said and she bent from the waist, her back to him, to show him the swell of her ass cheeks.
"Pinch a nipple for me!" he said, and she complied, groaning involuntarily as she put more and more pressure on the nipple. Finally, he told her to stop, and she thanked him again.
Next he asked: "Where'd you get the chain and cross?", referring to the small cross on a gold chain around her neck.
"My mother," she said.
"Off," he ordered softly, "Put it with your clothes."
She did as she was told, placing the cross and chain on top of the pile of clothing.
Then he looked her over and said: "Rings?"
"Bought them," she said.
"Off," was his order and the rings joined the rest of her pile.
"I don't want you to have tokens from others, when I'm dealing with you," he said.
"Of course, sir," she said to him and waited.
"Panties!" was his next order.
She slipped them down her legs and looking at him, before taking off a shoe to let the panties go down and off her foot, he nodded, smiling —- pleased at how this woman was being exactly what he thought she'd be, so complaint.
She then removed one shoe and took the panties off and then the other shoe and took the panties off that one. She looked up only to be told: "Shoes back on! It's what you can wear."
He heels were red and she put them back on, turned on now because the shoes were the only thing that she was still wearing.
"Now I want you on your knees and begging me to give you a drink! Do it, NOW!" he was bellowing at her, at the end.
She sank to her knees and said: "Sir, this Vanessa doesn't know when to keep her stupid mouth shut. Will you please, please favor me with a drink? I'd like that so much. I'm not much of a drinker but would you please, please do that for your Vanessa?"
"Of course," he said, holding the glass to her lips, so that she could gulp from the glass, which contained vodka. He gave her two large swallows and laughed at the face that she made, once she'd drunk the vodka.
She stood very still in the center of the room. There was nothing else in the room. The apartment was essentially unfurnished, and its very emptiness was a message to her about nothing normal happening there.
He walked around her then, surveying her from every angle. He let his hand drift down her naked side to one ass cheek and slid the hand across the ass cheek but, when he got to the other ass cheek, he slapped her hard.
It caused her to cry out and jump but made him laugh. "I like that response," he said, "Vanessa, we'll have to do things to see that response again and again."
"Yes, sir," she said, "Thank you, sir."
"Got you where I want you and the way that I want you, for now," he said.
"Yes, sir," she said, "Where you want me and the way you want me!"
"Now questions," he said, still walking around her.
Vanessa tried to follow him with her eyes and was tense and nervous; the sexual situation, for her, was so fine, and so hot that it had her totally on edge. This was what her fantasies were all about, those hidden thoughts and day dreams, and scenes that she sought out at night on the computer with strangers who cursed her, called her names, and ordered her to strip, with her often thinking of giving in to requests to get on a cam with someone and simply give in. But here and now she was giving in and it wasn't only via the medium of a computer. She was super turned on, and watched as he stalked around her.
He began his questions then. With each question, he did something.
He slapped her ass hard again; he slapped it several times, getting a yelp from her and asked her: "Are you a cock sucker, Vanessa?"
She said a very inadequate 'yes, sir'. He grabbed her by the throat and said, directly into her face: "Missy, if you don't answer me in complete sentences, then it's going to be a really, really painful night for you!"
She hurried to comply: "Yes, sir," she said, "I am a cock sucker!"
"Thought so!" he said, "We'll do some face stuffing after a bit."
"I hope so, sir, and thank you for that consideration," she said, causing him to smile.
Then he bent over and took her nipple in his mouth and sucked on it. She moaned and he took his face away from her nipple and asked her: "Do you take it up the ass, Vanessa?"
Then he bit the nipple getting another loud yelp from her, in response to the quick and severe pain, and she gave a quick answer: "Yes, sir this black slut takes it up the ass!"
He chuckled and asked: "Is that what you are? A black slut?"
"Sir," she said, "Yes, I am, for you; I'm this nigger slut for you!"
He laughed and said: "Damn right!"
Then he grabbed a handful of her abundant pussy hair and pulled on it. He pulled upward and had her squealing and on her toes. He was smiling directly into her face.
"Hurts, lovely Vanessa?"
"Oh, yes, sir," she rasped, "Hurts, sir!"
"Hurts, honey, when I pull on your cunt hair?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yes, sir," she said, still straining upward because of his pulling her pussy hair, "Hurts, when you pull on my cunt hair!"
"Ever drink piss, Vanessa?" he asked softly.
"No, sir," she said, "Never drank piss!"
"Oh, something new," he said, exultantly. "We'll have to see about that; shall we?"
His hand was still twined in her abundant pussy hair, and he began pulling upward again, when she said an agitated: "Yes, sir, we'll have to see about that."
He walked around her again then and slapped her ass, giving her three sharp slaps on her ass cheeks, getting more outcries from her, and loving it.
"Do you like some pain, Vanessa?" he asked softly.
She didn't hesitate to admit it: "Yes, sir," she said, tears involuntarily gathering in the corners of her eyes: "I do like some pain."
"Well, good for us!" he said, "We have games to play but one more, one last question and total truth, girl! Do you like what's happening here?"
She gave him a look that professed her devotion and said: "Oh, yes, sir, I do! It's a fantasy that I live on, live for. I mean, meeting someone, who knows, just knows and will make me the play thing! To play with, to use!"
"To hurt?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she said, the tears coming now, "To hurt!"
"What's the matter, girl?" he asked, "We haven't started."
"Oh, I love the pain but am afraid, sir!" she said.
"Good," he said, "It's a good way to be."
Then he surprised her by grabbing her and kissing her. She melted into the kiss, writhing against him, rubbing all she was against him, and holding her mouth wide open for his ravaging tongue to explore. She had her arms at her side, and didn't presume to put them around him.
"Yes," he said, "Good girl; now arms around my neck!"
And she complied with his order, and plastered herself against him.
When the kiss broke, he said her: "Now it's time, I think," he said to her pleasantly. "For some games. Shall we, Vanessa? Would you like to play?"
"Yes, sir, I would!" she admitted, and he left the room temporarily.
She waited, immersed in the thought and wonder of her meeting with the Wilson rep having turned out this way, and looking forward to what the night was going to bring to her, for her.
She stared at him with widened eyes, as he came back into the room holding a broom in his hand, and a jar of Vaseline in the other.
"Game time, Vanessa!" he said.
"Yes, sir, game time," she repeated, as though she had no thoughts of her own, but in actuality, her thoughts were wild and running free, giving herself to this strong, strong man.
"On your hands and knees," he ordered, "Face on the carpet, ass in the air!"
She complied, getting down on all fours and then putting her face in the carpet and her ass in the air for him. She waited.
"We're going for a little walk around the apartment," he said pleasantly. "I'll guide you with the broom."
As he said that, he fitted the broom slowly, and carefully into her ass hole, until a good amount was lodged in her. She was grunting and groaning uncomfortably and then she said: "Crawl! I'll give you directions with the broom."
The scene that occurred then was a very strange one, almost out of a Fellini movie. Ben had Vanessa crawl around the apartment, naked and indicated when she should turn and which way she should go by the pressure of the broom, which was lodged in her ass. He stopped her now and again to beat on her ass with his hand, causing her pain as well as discomfort.
It made him laugh.
"Wonderful! Just wonderful!" he said. "The company CFO with a broom up her ass, getting her ass beat, and doing what she's told! WONDERFUL!"
"Vanessa, are you my animal?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she said, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was panting. "I am your animal."
"Then let's hear you," he said, during their last turn around the apartment. "Make your noises." As he said that, he unleashed another spate of slaps to her undefended ass.
The last path through the apartment was accompanied not only by his laughter but by Vanessa making first cow noises, mooing and then pig noises, snorting. It was hilarious for Ben, humiliating and delicious for Vanessa.
After three passes around the apartment, with the broom for her guide, and with the spankings increasing with each round, he stopped her. She was shaking at that point and was covered with sweat.
Ben removed the broom, and got a soft 'Thank you, sir," from Vanessa. He went into the bathroom then and went to where she was kneeling on the floor and, using a wash cloth, wiped her face and then down her body, where the sweat was gleaming on her.
"Oh, thank you, sir," she said, never growing tired of that phrase, which she found herself using time after time.
When he was done with the washing, she simply lowered her head to the floor and began to kiss his shoes. He allowed it. She was a marvelous sight, her lovely, round shaped ass in the air and her face at his shoes, her tongue lashing out and licking them fervently.
"Margie should see you now," he said.
She looked up and gave her agreement: "Yes, sir, Margie should see me now!"
"Ever make a pass at her?" he asked.
"No, sir, I never have made a pass at her!" she answered.
"We'll have to think about that one," he said.
"Yes, sir, we should!" she replied, all accommodation.
"But you've been such a good girl, with our little game of search around the apartment that I have a treat for you now," he said.
"Thank you, a treat!" Vanessa said, never taking her eyes off of him.
She began to make small noises, as she watched him take his belt off.
"Please," she said softly.
"Is Vanessa asking for the belt as a treat?" he asked her severely.
"Yes, sir," she admitted, "Vanessa's asking for the belt as a treat." While she said it, she had tears running down her cheeks but she was too lost in her lust fantasy to protest in any way.
"Good," he went on, "Cheek on the floor in the carpet, ass in the air!"
She quickly got into that position, as he doubled the belt over and hit his palm one time with it, while she watched from her almost upside-down position and sobbed just a bit, in anticipation.
The first hard strike with the belt caused her to cry out and she toppled over.
"Get into position," he ordered, "And don't move!"
"Yes, sir," she managed and got into that position again.
He was chuckling then and said: "Big time CFO on with her face on the floor in the carpet and her big, black ass in the air waiting for the beating that she deserves! Is that who you are, Vanessa?"
"Yes, sir," she said, "I'm just this big time CFO all naked here with my face in the carpet and my big, black ass in the air waiting for the beating that the master's gonna give me. The beating that I deserve."
"Do you deserve it for lusting after your secretary? For wondering what her panties were like?" he asked. Then he hit her ass hard with the doubled over belt.
She squealed and then, panting now, managed: "Yes, sir, I deserve it for lusting after Margie my secretary and wondering what her panties were like."
"Do you deserve it for wanting to get your big lips on my white cock?" he asked next with an accompanying whack from the belt, raising a kind of welt now.
It knocked her off balance and she shrieked, when he hit her, but she scrambled back into position and said what he wanted to hear: "Yes, sir, I deserve it for wanting to get my big, puffy lips on your white cock!"
"Do you deserve it for wanting me to take you out naked on a leash and selling you as the dirty cock sucker that you are?" Here he beat her several times in a row to emphasize his words.
She was shrieking into the carpet now and answered, through her sobs: "Yes, sir, I deserve it for wanting you to take me out naked on a leash and selling me as the dirty black cock sucker that I am."
He stopped then and said: "As me now to hit you on the nipples!"
Her reaction was immediate: "Oh, nooooooo!" she wailed and realized her mistake immediately, as he went at her ass with a will, landing blow after blow.
She finally had had too much and said what he wanted to hear: "My nipples! Beat my nipples now! Please, please, I'm begging."
"Good girl," he said and grabbed her by the hair and raised her up. She was sweating again.