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It was 5:30 Thursday afternoon when Roger Hancock walked into Megan Bishop's office.

"Yes, Roger?" she said to her 28 year-old mailroom clerk, not even looking up from her work. "I thought you'd left for the day."

Miss Bishop had everything a woman could want – money, power, good looks, great figure. She was president of The Bishop Company, doing what was generally perceived as a stellar job running the business she'd inherited from her father. She was well respected by her peers and envied by everyone else. By everyone, that is, except her employees, by whom she was universally loathed.

Irritated at the interruption, she finally looked up from her desk. "Out with it, Roger. I haven't got all day."

Roger tossed a 9 inch by 12 inch brown envelope onto his boss's desk and took a seat in the chair facing her large mahogany desk. He said nothing.

"I see we've got an attitude this afternoon," she said as she grabbed the envelope, growing rapidly more irritated with each passing moment. She opened it, spilling its contents – two pieces of paper and a CD – onto her desk. She picked up the first piece of paper and started reading.

It took about ten seconds for the look on her face to turn from irritation to shock, and another few seconds to turn from shock to fear. She set the first paper down and picked up the second. Thirty seconds later she set that one down, rose from her chair and closed and locked her office door.

When she sat down, her hands were shaking. Her voice cracked slightly when she spoke. "Just what is it you want, Roger?"

"First of all, I just want to make sure you completely understand the situation. Everything in your envelope is a copy of what I've already sent to my attorney. The first paper is a letter instructing my attorney to turn a sealed envelope containing the second paper and the CD over to the authorities in the event anything happens to me. The second paper is an overview of the facts. The CD, as you no doubt guessed, contains the proof.

"Any questions so far?"

Miss Bishop shook her head. "No," she whispered.

"You do know that you could spend several years in prison for this, don't you, Miss Bishop?"

Megan Bishop nodded her head. "Yes," she said weakly.

Roger rose to his feet, circling the large desk. He stopped behind his boss's chair, resting his hands on her shoulders. He could feel her tense up, but she made no move to stop him.

"But I'll bet you never thought it would happen, did you?

"No," she whispered.

He removed his hands from her shoulder, eased around her chair and sat down on the edge of the desk, his left leg resting against the arm of her chair.

"Now, for what I want. In a nutshell, Miss Bishop, I intend to own you like a master owns a slave. If I feel like humiliating you, I will. If you're bad, I'll punish you. In fact, I'll probably punish you if you're not bad, just because I can.

"The bottom line is you now belong to me. I can and will do whatever I please with you."

He paused for a moment. "The funny thing is my initial instinct after discovering your little secret was to just overlook it. If you weren't such a bitch to all your employees, that's probably what I would have done. But the fact is, you are a bitch, and for that, you're going to pay – one way or another."

She looked into his eyes, her fear quite evident. But from somewhere, she found the resolve to make a stand.

"Mr. Hancock," she said in a firm voice as she rose to her feet. "This is a cute little game, but it's over. Now if you don't mind, I'll thank you to get out of my office. And while you're at it, clear out your desk. You won't be working here any longer."

"Have it your way," he smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. "I'll just make a quick phone call first, though."

"What are you doing?" she challenged, her voice lacking the firmness it had possessed only a moment earlier.

He dialed a few numbers. "Just calling my attorney," he smiled. "Did I tell you he's my cousin?"

A look of panic covered her face. "Wait. Don't do that." She reached for the hand that held the phone. "You win. I'll do whatever you say."

"Bernie," he said into the phone, brushing her hand away as he rose to her feet. "This is Roger. Can you hold on for just a second?"

He turned to Miss Bishop, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. "Anything?"

She nodded her head quickly. "Anything!"

"Okay," he said, nodding his head. "Listen Bernie, I'm sorry to bother you, but I've just solved my problem." He hesitated as his cousin said something, then laughed lightly. "Okay, you got it. I'll call you later." He closed the flip-phone, ending the call.

He looked at his boss, examining his new toy closely. She was an attractive woman of 35 years with wavy blonde hair that flowed just to her shoulders. She was slightly above average in height, sporting a figure that most women 10 years her junior would die for. She was dressed today in khaki slacks and a brown sleeveless sweater. The jacket that went with the outfit was hanging on the back of the door.

"First of all, from now on you are to call me sir. Understand?"

Megan nodded her head. "Yes."

"What did you say?" Roger shot back threateningly.

"I mean yes, sir. I understand," she corrected hastily.

"That's better," he smiled. "Now, we'll begin our new relationship with a spanking."

"What?" she gasped, taking a step back. "There's no way that's going to happen."

Even as she spoke, however, she knew her protest was in vain. That knowledge was born out when Roger once again reached for his cell phone.

"Okay," she said immediately. "You win." But when Roger cocked his head inquiringly, still holding the phone, she added a hasty "sir."

Roger nodded his approval, finally putting the phone away. "Slide your pants and panties down to your knees and put your elbows on the desk," he said, clearly enjoying the game.

Megan stepped back with a gasp, bumping into her credenza. "But ..." she started to say. She never finished her thought, knowing from the look in her subordinate's eyes that any protest would be futile. Still, she made no move to comply.

Roger shook his head slowly, stepping in front of her. He moved his hands to the front of her slacks. "If you'd prefer, I can do it for you."

"No, sir," she replied, moving her hands quickly to replace his. And then, finally realizing that there was no way out of her predicament, she began undoing her belt.

Roger stepped back, watching as the belt was undone, the button released and the zipper lowered. He then heard Miss Bishop take a deep breath as she began pushing down the pants, revealing a lacy pair of panties in the process.

Once the pants were around her knees she straightened up, looking into Roger's eyes, hoping against hope that the pants would be sufficient and that she'd be allowed to keep her panties. The next words from his mouth destroyed that hope.

"The panties, Miss Bishop."

There was another deep breath before she bent over, pushing the panties down to her knees.

"Very good, Megan – I can call you Megan, can't I," Roger said, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Okay then, Megan, elbows on the desk. Hurry up, now. I haven't got all day."

Before Miss Bishop could put her elbows on the desk, it was necessary for her to cover five feet of open floor. With her pants bunched up around her knees, she made quite a sight, but finally, she was in position.

Roger stepped behind his new slave, examining her. "You have a very nice ass, Megan, and a beautiful pussy. I think I'm really going to enjoy this."

He stepped forward and placed his hand on her fanny, smirking as she jumped at his touch. "I might caution you against screaming out, Megan. I'm pretty sure everyone has left by now, but it might prove embarrassing for you if I'm wrong and someone happens to hear you. If you'd like, I'd be happy to gag you."

She shook her head jerkily. "That won't be necessary. Just get on with it!" Another hesitation. "Sir."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The blows came suddenly. They were firm enough to stun her – even eliciting a yelp despite Roger's warning – but not so hard that they could really hurt. The real damage was the embarrassment, the humiliation of being treated so by a mere mailroom clerk.

'You'll pay for this,' she screamed silently. 'Oh, how you'll pay.' But even as those thoughts were running through her mind, she realized the threats were empty and without substance. 'Damn you, Roger Hancock.'

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

In all he spanked her twenty times. When it was over he allowed his hand to remain on her fanny, lightly rubbing first one cheek, then the other, all the while running the fingers of his other hand through her hair. He smiled, knowing the anger and humiliation she was feeling, reveling in his new-found control.

He finally allowed her to pull her pants back up, before motioning her to her chair.

"I'd rather stand, sir," she said tersely.

"Have it your way," he smiled, turning and heading for the door.

TWO

Megan Bishop nearly wrecked her $80,000 Mercedes twice before finally making it to the 4,500 square foot extravagance she called home. She paced through the empty halls of the large abode, desperately trying to find a way out of her predicament. At the end of the night, however, she ended up headed for bed with no earthly idea what to do.

She slept miserably, waking several times during the night in a heavy sweat. All she could think about was Roger Hancock and how he'd humiliated and degraded her. Nothing she did could purge his words from her head – 'I intend to own you like a master owns a slave.' The thought sent shivers down her spine.

Morning, much to her disappointment, finally arrived. She decided against the idea of not going to work for two reasons. First, she had two important meetings that day, one early, one late. Second, and most importantly, it was a matter of pride. There was no way in hell she was going to let that bastard think he'd gotten to her as much as, in truth, he had.

Her morning meeting ended at 11:00 AM. When she returned to her office, the mail was already neatly piled on the corner of her credenza, just like it always was. She sat down, picked up the pile and began sorting through it, stopping when she came to the plain white envelope with the words 'Megan Bishop – PRIVATE' written across the front.

She took a deep breath. It was from him, it had to be. She nervously ripped the envelope open and pulled out the single white piece of paper it contained. Its message was brief – 'This afternoon. Same time, same place.'

She stared at the paper for a full fifteen seconds, letting out a big sigh as she turned and put the note in the paper shredder. She then rose to her feet and left the office, telling Lauren Duggan, her administrative assistant, that she was taking an early lunch and wouldn't return until after her afternoon meeting.

* * *

It was nearly 5:45 when Roger finally arrived, entering her office without knocking, closing the door and moving to the front of her desk.

"Come here," he said simply.

Megan stared at him for a second before rising from her chair. She circled the desk without a word, coming to a stop in front of him.

Roger smiled, nodding his head slowly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'll let it go this time," he said, referring to her silent obedience when 'yes, sir' was the expected response. "But in the future, you'll either show me the proper respect or you'll be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she responded curtly.

"Good. Now then, go ahead and lower your pants and panties for me."

She shot him an angry glare. "You said you'd let it go this time." But as soon as she said it, she regretted it. He gotten to her again, and she'd let it show.

He laughed lightly. "I'm not going to punish you. I simply want to get another look at the pretty little ass of yours. Now get going before I change my mind – about the punishment, that is."

To Megan, having to bare her ass for no reason other than his wanting to look at it was worse than a spanking. It was a statement of absolute control. It was his way of saying that he could and would do anything he wanted to her, and she was powerless to stop him. There was a renewed fire in her eyes as she pushed the pants and panties down to her knees as ordered.

"Good," Roger said. "Now, bend over, elbows on the table – just like yesterday."

She turned to the desk, bending over as instructed, angry at herself for letting him get to her again. And then she waited.

She heard him sliding one of her side chairs into position directly behind her ass before sitting down, giving him what she was certain was a beautifully unobstructed view of her pussy. She bit down on her lower lip. 'Don't let him get to you like this,' she screamed silently. 'You're better than he is!'

But he was getting to her. He was toying with her and she was letting it bother her. And that, she knew, was exactly what he wanted.

She was shaken from her self-criticism by the touch of his hand on her fanny, rubbing gentle little circles on first one cheek, then the other. And then she gasped, lifting herself from the table as his finger slid into her pussy.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Anything I want," he replied smugly. "Now get back in position before you really piss me off."

"Damn you," she whispered in a voice she knew he could hear. But she reassumed the position as ordered. A moment later a second finger joined the first finger in her pussy. A moment after that they were sliding in and out in unison.

"Damn you," she whispered again, more determined than ever not to let him get to her.

Roger sat patiently for several minutes, sliding his fingers in and out, working her pussy with practiced experience. Occasionally he'd reach out with his free hand and rub it over her fanny, even slapping it playfully on one occasion. He couldn't be certain, but at one point he thought he heard her sigh softly. He knew for a fact that he'd felt a shudder shoot through her body.

His fingers were still sliding in and out of her when he finally spoke. "I'll expect you at my house tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 PM."

"Yes, sir," Megan said, taking a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check. "Where do you live?"

"My address is in the employee database," he said curtly. "You're to wear a tee-shirt with no bra."

He then withdrew his fingers, rose from his seat and started for the door. A moment later he was gone, and she was still bent over the desk with her pants around her knees.

"Damn you, Roger Hancock," she said as she pushed herself up from the desk.

THREE

She had another fitful night, dreaming of all the things he'd do to her. In the dream, she saw him spanking her mercilessly until she begged him to stop, promising him anything – everything – if only he'd stop. He stopped, okay, but not before taking from her everything that a man could take.

She woke from the dream in a cold sweat, sitting up abruptly in her bed as she struggled for air. "God damn you, Roger Hancock," she spat. "God damn you to hell!"

* * *

She knocked on the front door of Roger's small house at 2:55 PM the next afternoon. It took him nearly a minute to answer. When he did he smiled at her, gesturing for her to enter. "Come on in, Megan. I'm so glad you could make it."

'Like I had a choice, you son of a bitch,' she thought. But she said nothing.

Once they were in the foyer, he stopped, looking her over. "There's just something incredibly sexy about a nicely proportioned woman going braless in a tee-shirt, don't you think?"

"I've never thought about it, sir," she replied shortly.

He smiled, laughing just a bit, before pointing to the basement stairs. "We'll be in the basement today. You can go on down, Lauren's waiting for you. I'll be down in a bit."

The name Lauren caught Megan's ears instantly, sending chills down her spine. "Lauren?"

"Lauren Duggan," Roger said, referring to Megan's administrative assistant. "She'll be joining us today." He paused, giving her time to absorb the new information before taking her by the shoulders and turning her towards the stairs. "Now downstairs."

Megan took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm her nerves. She had imagined all sorts of things that Roger could, and probably would, do to her. But she'd never imagined another woman – especially Lauren Duggan. And quite frankly, the prospect terrified her. After all, as Megan's administrative assistant, she was the person who took the brunt of her considerable temper. Given the opportunity, she had no doubt the young woman would be more than happy to exact some revenge

She started down the stairs, more nervous than ever about what lay ahead.

* * *

Megan reached the bottom of the stairs to find Lauren waiting for her, leaning against the wall in a white satin robe that barely covered her ass. It was quite apparent that the robe was the only thing she had on.

The two women quietly looked each other over for a moment. When Lauren finally spoke, there was a smile on her face and an unexpected warmth in her voice. "Come with me," she said, reaching out her hand.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just wait here for Roger," Megan replied nervously.

Lauren just shook her head, motioning with her fingers for her to come. "If you're not in position when Master gets downstairs, we'll both be in trouble. Now come with me."

"Master?" Megan asked.

"Yes," Lauren replied. "He's my master, also."

"Also?" Megan retorted. "He may be your master, but he's certainly not mine."

Lauren reached out her hand, squeezing her boss's arm tenderly. "Then why are you here?" she said simply.

Megan opened her mouth to reply before stopping short. The simple truth was, no matter how she tried to delude herself, Lauren was right – Roger Hancock was now her master. No other description of their relationship covered it quite as simply and succinctly as that.

She stared at Lauren for several long seconds before finally speaking. "Lead the way."

The room they entered was about fifteen feet wide by twenty feet long. It had the look of a once unfinished basement some Harry Homeowner had personally finished – wood paneling on the walls, a drop ceiling divided by three six-by-six beams and thick beige carpeting. The furnishings consisted of a sofa coming off one wall, two wing chairs, a television set and a couple of end tables.

But it was the wrist cuffs attached to two separate ropes hanging down from the far beam that caused Megan Bishop to stop short.

"You're not putting me in those," she gasped, her eyes glued to the cuffs.

Lauren sighed. "Remember Thursday afternoon when Master first confronted you?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, her eyes still locked on the dangling cuffs.

"Remember how you stood defiantly against him, only to end up doing exactly what he demanded?

Megan turned towards Lauren before nodding her head slowly. "I remember."

"This is the same thing," she said. "You will either let me place you in the cuffs, or you will face his consequences." She hesitated, giving her boss time to think. "It's up to you, but if I were in your place, I wouldn't give him any more incentive than he already has."

Megan stared at her administrative assistant, finally nodding her head. "Okay," she said weakly, turning towards the cuffs.

There were two wrist cuffs, each one attached to a rope that descended from the ceiling through a large eye-bolt located a few feet from the wall. The ropes then each ran along the beam to the wall, through another eye-bolt and down to a pair of spikes where they were tied off, with the excess rope curled up on the floor.
Lauren gently positioned Megan under the beam in the middle of the room, facing towards the sofa.

"Don't move."

Lauren moved quickly, lowering first one rope, then the other, before fastening the cuffs around Megan's wrists. When she was satisfied that the cuffs were on securely, she pulled each rope tight and tied them down, leaving Megan's arms stretched at an upward angle towards the ceiling. Finished, she moved back to the center of the room, stopping several feet in front of her boss.

"You know," she started off softly, her hands moving to the knot in her sash. "I've wanted to do this since the day I met you." She pulled the sash free and slid the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. "Funny, but the worse you treated me, the more I wanted you," she said as she started moving towards her ensnared boss.

Megan gasped in shock as her jaw fell open. She had already resigned herself to the inevitable – allowing Roger to have his way with her – but Lauren? Even after she'd arrived and found out Lauren was involved, she hadn't expected this. She shook, pulling at the cuffs that restrained her raised arms while she watched the naked young woman approach.

Lauren, a full three inches shorter than her boss's 5'8", came to a stop inches away from Megan, craning her neck to look into her eyes. She reached her hands up and slid them behind Megan's head, before rising to her tip-toes and planting a brief little kiss on her lower lip. She then released her head, sliding her hands onto Megan's shoulders and down to her breasts. She smiled to herself, noting the dazed and confused look in her charge's eyes.

She squeezed her breasts firmly, before sliding her hands down her sides and taking hold of the bottom of her tee-shirt. Then, with her eyes locked squarely on Megan's, she began pushing the shirt up her torso.

She slid the shirt over her breasts, revealing her beautiful, full bosom with large, already erect nipples sticking out. She then took one more look into Megan's eyes and pushed the shirt upward so it stretched from one arm to the other around her boss's head, effectively blindfolding her.

She removed her hands for a moment, allowing her prisoner to stand there helplessly, waiting, before she took hold of her nipples and gently twirled them in her fingers. She released the nipples, dragging her finger tips lightly across her chest, her breasts, her stomach and her sides, noting an increased squirming as the fingers continued their trek. And then the hands returned to the breasts, squeezing them firmly enough to elicit a definite moan from her sight-deprived captive.

Megan bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure. But with her world visually reduced to a white fog and her administrative assistant fondling her breasts while she stood there helplessly, it was hard. She tried to focus on that fact that it was a woman doing this to her, holding desperately to the thought that she was not a lesbian – that she was better than this. But the longer the assault went on and the more the restraints and lack of sight worked on her mind, the less it mattered.

She let out a loud sigh as her eyes slid closed and her head began swaying from side to side under the tee-shirt. When Lauren's tongue brushed across her left nipple, shivers ran down her spine. "Oh my God," she moaned helplessly. Amid the confusion and sensory deprivation, she was not aware of Roger entering the room and taking a seat in the sofa.

Her moaning was growing louder as the hands continued to knead her breasts while the mouth attacked her nipples, first licking, then nibbling, even biting down on occasion. She could feel herself squirming against her restraints as a hand abandoned its breast to wander down to her jeans, first releasing the snap, then wiggling its way into her panties and slipping over her clit.

A moment later, however, the hand withdrew from her panties, just as the mouth and other hand were withdrawn from her chest.

"Nooo," she moaned automatically. But the moan went unanswered as, instead, she sensed Lauren kneeling down in front of her. A moment later two hands were on her pants, working the zipper down before sliding pants and panties over her hips and down her legs. Megan could feel her feet working their way out of the jeans on their own accord, even before Lauren's hands had a chance to do it for her.

She felt Lauren's hands slipping between her legs, pushing them apart before pulling something up to her right leg. The next thing she knew, her right ankle was bound securely in something similar to the wrist cuffs she was in, only attached to a length of wood instead of rope. A moment later Lauren was stretching her feet even further apart, leaving the bound right foot a full three feet from the unbound left one. And a moment after that, the left ankle was bound to the other end of the same piece of wood that bound the right.

Lauren paused for a moment, sitting back on her ankles to examine her handiwork. Bur her master had other ideas.

"Finish the job," Roger said from his seat on the sofa, officially announcing his presence to Megan while Lauren scurried to the closet to get the last piece of the puzzle.

Megan gasped audibly as Roger's voice jerked her back to reality. She went instantly rigid, trying instinctively to twist her body to hide her nakedness. But her efforts were futile and she quickly abandoned them in favor of the only things she could do – nothing.

For the moment at least, her clarity of thought was back and she knew what she must do – resist. She could not win, that much was obvious. But she would not go down like some two-bit tramp! She would stand tall! She would take whatever they threw at her, and she would not break!

She could hear Lauren scurrying about the room as she stood there. She heard what sounded like a closet door closing before sensing her administrative assistant once again on her knees in front of her. And then the fingers were back on her pussy, slipping easily into her.

She bit her lip, suppressing the urge to moan but unable to prevent her hips from gyrating slightly against the fingers as they slid in and out of her still wet pussy. And then the fingers were withdrawn, only to be replaced by something hard, something she instantly recognized as some sort of dildo or vibrator. She could feel Lauren sliding the phallic into her pussy a bit and withdrawing it teasingly, only to repeat the process, delving slightly deeper with each new intrusion. She was able to maintain her poise until the devise finally slid all the way in, only gasping when she felt the clitoral stimulator pressing against her love button. She knew from experience exactly what a vibrator with a clit stimulator was capable of doing.

Megan could feel some jostling of the vibrator as Lauren worked to somehow brace it. Then the jostling stopped and she could sense Lauren backing away, leaving the vibrator stuffed up her pussy with the stimulator pressing against her clit.

Roger smiled his approval as Lauren rose to her feet and stepped aside. He liked what he saw – his boss standing like a giant 'X', arms and legs stretched wide and restrained, naked but for the tee-shirt stretched between her arms and over her head. But it was the vibrator and clit stimulator that provided the crowning touch, perched atop an adjustable pole and fastened to the wooden rod that stretched her legs, destined to provide pleasure in spite of the pain he might otherwise inflict.

His smile grew bigger as he nodded to Lauren. It was time to begin.

Lauren turned back towards Megan, stepping forward and sliding her hands onto her sides. She could sense the tension in her body, a tension that wasn't there before her master had announced his presence.

"Relax," she whispered as her hands slid around her hips and onto her ass. She kissed her lightly on the shoulder as she slid her finger-nails lightly up her back, eliciting an unintended shiver, before sliding the fingers slowly back down. She then lowered her head, kissing her lightly on the breast while moving her right hand to the vibrator and turning it on.

Megan jumped, gasping as the phallic sprang to life, sending shivers throughout her body. She felt Lauren slap her hard on her fanny before moving both hands to her breasts and squeezing, even as her teeth were biting down on her nipple. She gasped again, writhing under the sudden barrage of sensations that were attacking her.

And then Lauren released her, backing away completely only an instant before . . .

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed as the flogger hit her ass, causing her to jump and bring the stimulator hard onto her clit, which caused her to scream out again.

"No!" she begged instantly, all sense of pride and perseverance forgotten. "Please don't!"

But the flogger struck again, this time across her back, again causing her to jump into the stimulator. She pleaded some more, but the flogger kept attacking, giving equal attention to her thighs, her ass and her back. Throughout the attack Megan kept squirming, but her efforts were more effective at keeping the pressure on her already excited love button then they were at avoiding what, in truth, was far more embarrassing than it was painful.

And then she came, screaming out as the orgasm struck suddenly, rendering her little more than a blubbering mass of flesh, all sense of pride and dignity totally gone. But before the pleasure could completely run its course, it struck again, even as the flogging switched to her front, attacking her breasts, her tummy and her already full pussy.

And then, as yet another orgasm was waxing through her body, the flogging stopped and the vibrator was switched off. She stood there, supported more by the ropes than her own feet, her head falling forward as she gasped for air.

She didn't know how long they let her stand there, but by the time she sensed someone stepping in front of her, she had nearly recovered. She lifted her head, saying nothing as two hands grabbed the neck of her tee-shirt and pulled, ripping the shirt cleanly, allowing her to look into the eyes of her tormentor as he quickly finished the job, ripping the tattered remnants of the shirt from her body before taking several steps backwards so he stood directly beside Lauren.

He wore a pair of black flannel pajama-like pants on his lower body but was naked from the waist up. There was a look of absolute dominion in his eyes as he slid his left hand behind Lauren's neck and pulled her naked body roughly against chest. As he held her pressed against him with his left hand, he swatted her fanny hard with his right, eliciting an involuntary gasp from both women. But based on the way Lauren was rubbing herself against her master, there was very little doubt she was loving the rough treatment.

Roger grabbed Lauren's hair, pulling downward, causing her to drop to her knees in front of him. He released the hair quickly and waited, knowing that his slut needed no further prompting.

It was only then that Megan noticed the music playing softly in the background, music that hadn't been there before her flogging. It was a new age type sound, with a hypnotic melody that seemed to somehow magnify the intensity of the situation. For Megan, it was all too surreal. Her mail room clerk and administrative assistant enacting a wild sexual dance before her while she stood spread-eagled and restrained, a vibrator stuck in her pussy while those strange, hypnotic melodies filled the air.

She wiggled her pussy subconsciously against the turned off vibrator, her arousal growing in spite of herself as she watched Lauren run her hands over Roger's six-pack abs, taking hold of his muscular pecs while she planted soft little kisses all over his stomach, all with him never diverting his strong gaze from Megan.

It was Megan's gasp that filled the room as Lauren's hands slid under the waist-band of Roger's pants, pulling them down quickly to reveal the most incredible eight inches of erect manhood she'd ever seen. Her eyes were glued to his newly displayed manhood while her own hips continued working the phallic in her pussy, almost – but not quite – against her wishes. She strained noticeably at her restraints when Lauren took him in her mouth.

She watched as Lauren worked him expertly, alternately working his shaft with her hand and mouth while she fondled his balls. Megan could tell that Lauren was getting to Roger, even as both of them were getting to her. And then she watched as Roger grabbed Lauren's head firmly and began shooting his load into her mouth.

Roger stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face, staring at Megan while Lauren slowly cleaned him off with her mouth. The cleaning process took barely more than a minute, yet when Lauren withdrew her mouth to inspect her work, Roger's still hard manhood sprung once again into view.

Megan watched, surprised by the young man's apparent stamina as he once again grabbed his slut by the hair, this time forcing her to her hands and knees on the floor below him so she was facing directly at her. She involuntarily bit her lower lip as she watched him kneel down behind her and slide his meat into her pussy.

It was the look of pure a****l lust in Lauren's eyes when she raised her head and looked up at her boss that finally did Megan in, leaving her squirming desperately atop the vibrator as Roger began slamming his meat into her pussy. He worked her hard, pulling back on her hair and squeezing her tits, pumping her mercilessly until she screamed out in orgasm, even as his own face grimaced as he emptied his seed into her.

And through it all, Megan kept squirming atop her phallic, hopelessly desperate for the release that didn't come.

She was still squirming when Roger withdrew from Lauren's pussy and stood up. He stepped around the knelt over woman and moved immediately in front of Megan. He then reached down and switched on the vibrator just before moving his fingers to her nipples and pulling.

Megan gasped audibly, closing her eyes as the sensations of lust overpowered her. She squirmed wildly, rubbing her clit against the once again dancing stimulator while he pulled on her nipples and squeezed her tits. There was no sign of dignity or pride anywhere to be found when the orgasm finally struck, leaving her screaming out, her entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her.

And then the hands were withdrawn and the vibrator switched off. Megan managed to open her eyes, seeing Roger still standing immediately in front of her. He was looking at her when he spoke, but his comments were directed at Lauren.

"I'll be in the shower," he said calmly, the voice of a man clearly in control. "See that she's out of my house by the time I get out." Without bothering to collect his pants he turned and left the room.

* * *

Lauren went through the process of freeing her boss wordlessly. When finally released from her restraints, Megan went to retrieve her clothes.

"What about my shirt?" she said, referring to the tee-shirt that'd been ripped from her body, now little more than a pile of tattered fabric. "Am I expected to drive home topless?"

Lauren turned to the closet, opened it and pulled a tee-shirt from one of the shelves. "Roger keeps a few of his down here," she smiled. "Just in case."

Another minute later Megan was dressed, following the still naked Lauren up the stairs. When they reached the front door, Lauren reached for the doorknob, pulled the door open and slid behind it, allowing the bright sunlight of the late afternoon sun to come pouring in. Funny, but it'd taken less than two hours for Roger and Lauren to completely pummel her; two hours that – as she'd soon find out – had completely changed her life.

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend," Lauren said nonchalantly, as if they'd just spent the morning sharing a cup of coffee.

FOUR

It took less than fifteen minutes for Megan to reach home. She entered the house through the garage door, kicked off her shoes and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. She wasted no time at all stripping off her pants, before throwing herself on the bed in her panties and Roger's tee-shirt, fully intending to cry her eyes out. But no tears came.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as images from earlier that day kept flashing through her mind. She must have been there for an hour, staring and thinking, before she finally rolled to her feet.

She headed for the kitchen, where she grabbed a frozen dinner from the freezer and threw it in the oven. She then made her way to the family room, settling into her favorite chair to stare at the lengthening shadows. It was an hour and a half later when she smelled the dinner burning in the oven.

After throwing out the burnt dinner, she made her way back to her bedroom, where she peeled back the covers and slid into bed.

She slept fitfully, dreaming that she was tied to a giant flying 'X' while a two headed dildo monster attacked her mercilessly.

* * *

Morning finally came, and the memory of the day before with it. Megan rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Another shower was definitely in order, followed by a little bit of grooming. Maybe that would help.

It didn't.

Finally finished in the bathroom, she once again donned Roger's tee-shirt – which fit her more like a short dress than a shirt, easily covering her ass – and headed for the kitchen. This time she didn't burn the food.

* * *

The rest of the morning was a blur. She never bothered to dress, choosing instead to remain in the tee-shirt as she wandered from one room to another, finding some way to occupy a few minutes here, a few minutes there. Yesterday, however, was never far from her mind.

The last thing she expected to hear was the doorbell, but at 1:10 PM, that's just what she heard.

"Who the hell could that be," she said out loud as she made her way to the door. Before she could get there, the bell rang again, followed by a loud knocking. She reached the door and looked through the peep hole. Then she froze, staring at an impatiently waiting Roger Hancock.

When he banged on the door again, she jumped and began backing slowly from the door. "No," she whispered. "Oh God, please no." She backed all the way to the kitchen, not stopping until she bumped into the large island that occupied its center. She stood there, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe.

Several minutes passed; the ringing and knocking had not repeated. Several more minutes passed and still nothing. She was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he'd left, when she saw a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye.

She turned quickly, seeing him instantly, no more than two feet away from her unlocked screen door, staring directly at her.

He stood there for several seconds, staring at her, before finally reaching out and sliding the screen open. He entered the room, slid the screen door shut and set the small gym bag he was carrying on the floor. He then turned to face her.

"That's my tee-shirt, isn't it?" he said simply.

Megan hesitated. "Yes, sir," she answered weakly.

"I thought so," he said, nodding his head slightly. "I need it back."

"Yes, sir," she said.

There was a moment's hesitation before Roger spoke again. "I don't think you understand. I need it back now."

"Oh," Megan said, a bit flustered. "I'll just go change and . . ."

"I said NOW, Miss Bishop, right NOW!"

"Yes, sir," the clearly flustered woman managed to respond. Her hands moved quickly, grabbing the bottom of the shirt and pulling it over her head. She then stepped forward and held out the shirt, making no move whatsoever to cover her nakedness.

Roger walked over, grabbed the shirt from her hand and tossed it in the general direction of his gym bag. He then turned back towards the woman who signed his paychecks, lowering his eyes slowly as he looked her over.


t was nearly thirty seconds later when his eyes made it back to hers. Then he spoke.

"You enjoyed it yesterday, didn't you?"

Megan fidgeted uncomfortably, lowering her eyes to the floor as she relived the previous afternoon's shame and humiliation. Her mind, it seems, was having trouble admitting what her body and soul already knew –yesterday's encounter was, without a doubt, the most electrifying thing that had ever happened to her.

Roger let out a soft chuckle. "I can see it in your eyes, just like I saw it in the tee-shirt of mine you were still wearing." he said. "And today, I see an excitement in your body, where yesterday I saw fear." He paused, letting his words sink in. "I'm right, aren't I?"

This time when she failed to answer, Roger stepped closer, grabbing her roughly by her hair and pulling her hard against him, twisting her head so her face was looking up at him.

"The truth, Miss Bishop. I'm right, aren't I?" he whispered menacingly.

Megan swallowed deeply. "Yes, sir," she managed to answer, officially admitting what they both already knew.

Roger continued holding her roughly against his chest. "Now," he said, pausing for effect, "there's the issue of your not answering the door. You realize I have to punish you for that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

He released her hair, allowing her to slump away from him. He then reached out and placed his hand comfortingly against her cheek. "This is what will happen. You will go over to my gym bag and bring my flogger to me. You will then take your position along the long side of the island, facing it, with your arms and legs spread wide, palms down on the island top. I will then flog your entire backside. When I'm satisfied that your back has been satisfactorily punished, you will turn around, back to the island, arms and legs spread wide, palms down on the island top. I will then flog your entire front side. Are you with me so far?"

She nodded her head uneasily. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now if you take your punishment like the good slut I know you can be – and that means no whining, whimpering, screaming or begging for mercy – I might decide to fuck you afterwards." He paused. "But only if your good. Understand?"

She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes. Her lips were trying to move, but no words came out.

"You do want me to fuck you, don't you?" he followed up.

Despite the fog that hung over her brain, she understood exactly what he'd just asked. It was a question that transcended everything. It went beyond the blackmail, the teasing and the humiliation. The question he'd just asked ultimately had nothing to do with whether or not he'd fuck her – he would if he decided to, that was a given. What he really wanted to know was, blackmail aside, was she acknowledging him as Master and admitting to her own lust.

She swallowed deeply, nodding her head slowly in the affirmative. "Yes, sir," she said in a voice he could barely hear. "I do."

"Then you'll take your punishment without complaint?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled and nodded his head, before turning her sideways and giving her a very hard slap on her fanny. "Good, now get moving."

"Yes, sir," came the hasty reply as she moved quickly towards the gym bag.

She fumbled briefly with the bag's zipper, pulled the flogger from the inner compartment and returned to where her master stood, handing him the instrument of her punishment. He took it and nodded toward the island.

"Assume the position."

"Yes, sir."

She moved quickly into the directed position – facing the island with arms and legs spread wide, palms down on the island top – and waited, knowing instinctively that today's flogging would make yesterday's look like a love tap.

It took nearly fifteen seconds for the first blow to finally fall.

CRACK!!

Megan jumped as the thongs bit into her right ass-cheek, a gasp escaping her lips despite her master's warning. For a brief instant, panic struck as she feared her initial gasp may have earned her master's ire. But no words of reprimand were forthcoming. Still, she bit down on her lower lip, setting her resolve as she braced herself for the next blow.

CRACK!! CRACK!! CRACK!!

Three blows fell in quick succession, one on her left ass-cheek and one on each thigh, each blow delivering more pain then the previous. Despite that, she managed to hold her gasps and moans to an almost inaudible level.

More blows soon followed, these falling on her lower back, upper back and ass, followed all to quickly by a group of blows delivered on an upward arc between her legs and landing squarely on her pussy. The small yelp that escaped her lips then was unavoidable.

She soon lost track of the individual blows. All she knew for sure was that the thongs seemed to pelt down over her entire backside – from her neck to her calves, including both sides and her pussy. She allowed an occasional yelp to escape her lips, but nothing that brought chastisement from her master. When she finally felt his hand ease onto her tender fanny, she knew that she'd survived the first half.

"You're half way home," he said in a not unkind voice. "Now turn around and we'll do the front."

"Yes, sir," she panted as she straightened up and turned around, moving quickly into the indicated position. Once in position, she turned to face her punisher. When she did, there was a look in her eyes he hadn't seen before, a look that seemed to challenge him to take his best shot, a looked that screamed out 'bring it on!'

And that's precisely what he did.

The first blows fell hard on her breasts, earning more of a gasp than she'd intended. The next several moved steadily down her body, skipping only her pussy. That omission was addressed shortly, however, as five blows fell in rapid succession on the heart of her womanhood. Through it all, she held her eyes open, locked directly onto his, closing them only briefly as each strike landed.

The blows stopped momentarily as he took hold of the flogger in both hands. A small victory smile snuck across her lips. But the smile was short-lived as he pulled the flogger back and started the assault anew. This time there was no rest for the wicked as the thongs fell on her body in a seemingly nonstop flow, ultimately sparing only her head. By the time it was finished, Megan's eyes were clamped shut and she was biting her lower lip so hard she nearly drew blood. When she finally felt his hand on her breast she nearly collapsed.

She opened her eyes slowly, afraid that, maybe, he wasn't truly finished. The look in his eyes said otherwise. "It's over," he said simply. "Why don't you go have a seat and I'll get you a glass of water."

She shook her head. "There's scotch in the cabinet," she said. "The glasses are over there."

He grabbed two glasses. "Ice?"

"Make mine neat."

"Neat it is," he smiled, setting the glasses on the counter beside the sink. A moment later the two drinks were poured and Roger was lifting his glass. "To what should we drink?" he asked.

Her answer was quick and direct. "To fucking," she said, throwing the liquid down her throat. She quickly poured another drink – for her, not him – and sent that one hurriedly after the first. She set her empty glass down on the counter, turned in his direction and waited. A moment later his glass was beside hers, his eyes focused intently on her face.

"I'm impressed," he said simply.

"You said you'd fuck me," she countered bluntly.

He laughed, shaking his head slowly. "I'm all yours," he replied, holding his arms out to his sides. "Just be gentle."

She grabbed at the bottom of his tee-shirt, ripping it up his chest and over his head. "Not much chance of that," she said as she dropped to her knees.

If possible, the next hour was more of a blur than the previous one, and it was anything but gentle. It started with a blow job that quickly turned into a good old-fashioned face fucking, culminating when he blew his load all over her face. She cleaned herself up quickly, giving him very little time to recover before pushing him onto his back on the island and straddling his meat. There was a brief moment of pain as his cock slid past her recently flogged pussy lips, but she put that out of her mind, focusing instead on pounding her hot, juicy cunt over his manhood. She came quickly and she came hard, letting out a primordial scream as her orgasm struck home. Roger, however, wasn't done. He leaned forward and grabbed her by her hair, even as her orgasm was sending spasm after spasm through her body. He pulled her off him, forcing her to her feet on the floor. He followed quickly, bending her over and pressing her chest hard against the island top as he stepped up behind her, ramming his meat into her pussy before her first orgasm could completely run its course. And then, while maintaining a firm grip on her hair, he began pounding her box for all he was worth. A moment later they both came, crying out as the weekends events finally reached a peak. And then they crashed.

* * *

They somehow made their way up the stairs and onto her bed, he on his back and her spread out across his chest. They hadn't quite been able to make it under the covers, but that didn't seem to matter. For quite some time they just lay there, trying to gather themselves.

"Lauren will be here in a little while," Roger said after a bit.

She lifted her head. "Oh?"

"I thought I'd take us all to a really expensive restaurant." He paused, smiling at her. "You're buying."

"I see," she replied, punching him not quite so lightly in the stomach.

"One other thing," he said casually, rubbing his stomach. "You're getting a little lax with your 'yes sirs' and 'no sirs.' If you're not careful, there could be more punishment in your future." He then grabbed her hair, giving her head a little twist. "We wouldn't want that, now, would we?"

She shook her hair free of his grip. "No, sir," she replied, just before lowering her mouth to his chest and biting down on his nipple.