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Message-ID: <37994asstr$1030158602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Toran" <toran29@insightbb.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 22:24:44 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Work Break (D/s, BDSM, M/f)
Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 23:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Hi, this is my first post to this newsgroup (thanks SL for pointing the
way!)  I hope this conforms to the moderated guidelines.  Feedback is
greatly appreciated.

Toran
toran29@insightbb.com
http://www.dajungle.com/stories/toran29/



The following story is intended for mature adults and features bondage,
discipline and erotic Dominance and submission.







Work Break
by Toran

The words come up on her computer and at first she just glances - the
spreadsheet before her is making her eyes blur and there is a distinct kink
in the back of her neck.  But when the little window of her email program
flashes the sender's address her heart misses a beat.  It's him - The Him.

Spreadsheet now the farthest thing from her mind, she swivels in her chair
and gives her PC her undivided attention - actually, it's Him that is
getting her undivided attention.  The email program harmlessly opens His
mail, just as it has opened all her mail all day.  But this one is
different.  These aren't bothersome questions about her job, about the
spreadsheet, about anything in this vanilla office with the vanilla chairs
and vanilla desk. This would just be one question, although the variations
could be endless, given His penchant for spice.  This would simply ask her
to submit - to Him.

"...hello, pet.  Close the curtains to your office and lock the door.  Turn
off the lights so the only light comes from my words on your screen..."

Without hesitation, she jumps up and slams the curtains closed, a new dark
world sealing her in - her office was no more.  The click of the lock
ensures that no one from outside will be able to intrude.  Heart pounding in
her chest, she slides back behind her desk, the glow from the computer
finding an anxious but determined face.

"...reach into the lowest drawer on the right side of the desk - the drawer
where I've put my toys."  Of course, she thinks, He has a set of keys to the
office, given to Him the night she gave Him her body and mind and soul.
Nothing is off limits to Him, nothing secret.  With trembling fingers, she
slides the drawer open.  A set of handcuffs, a big red ballgag, a set of
nipple clamps connected by a thin silver chain, and a small flogger.  She
inhales sharply and the first trickle of warm giddiness fills her belly.
It's many moments before she turns back to the computer screen, moments in
which her eyes fix on each piece of equipment, all meant to hold her and
hurt her and torment her - for Him.

"...open your blouse and put the clamps on."  She unbuttons the tops of her
white blouse and rolls back her lacy black bra, nipples already hard and
ready.  The first clamp goes on and she closes her eyes from the sharp pain.
Before she can even think to rub the wounded flesh, the other is snapped on,
the delicate chain seeming to weigh many pounds as it hangs down her chest.

"...buckle the gag in tight.  When you've tightened it snugly, pull the
strap two extra holes.  Lock it on."

She stares at the screen.  It's only 3:30.  She does not have a key to the
gag.  She closes her eyes.  It's His will.  Heart now thundering in her
chest, she slides the big  red ball between her teeth, pulling it as tight
as she can - forget the two holes - she knows He'll want it tighter than
tight.  She pauses before snapping the lock shut.  This is what He wants.
To own her, to make her His.  Whenever and however He wants.  Hearing her
breathing, only her breathing fill the room, she clicks the lock home.

"...handcuff yourself behind your back."  A slow moan starts from deep in
her throat and the warmth in her belly lights a fire inside her.  Almost in
a daze, feeling the dull  throb of the clamps on her nipples, the weight of
the big gag that keeps her mouth both filled and sealed, she leans forward
in her chair and takes the cuffs in one hand.  Cold steel.  Of course, there
isn't a key for the cuffs.  Why should there be?  The gag isn't coming off,
why should she be allowed to get free once the cuffs go on.  She takes a
deep breath, aware that she's in her office, there are others, vanilla
others just beyond the glass window and wooden door, having not a clue that
inside, in what is now her cell, for she can't just walk out of here like
this - inside is she, about to be helpless.

She feels the cool steel encircle one wrist and rachets the cuff shut.
Pausing to glance up at the door and windows, hoping beyond hope that He has
planned for this, that He will come and somehow rescue her - or maybe hurt
her, maybe torment her, maybe make her scream from behind her gag - she
clicks the second cuff shut.

She waits.  Her office works around her.  There are a few knocks at the door
from time to time, but it's locked so no one enters.  She finds herself
staring at the flogger, nestled harmlessly at the bottom of the open drawer,
in the shadows of the glow of the computer.  What will He do to  her?  When
will He come?

>:)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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