Arrested At The Office Pt 04 1

Julia's tale continues. Sorry for adding chapters slowly, but sometimes real life intrudes. If you are offended by lesbian sex and / or semi-consensual bondage, or age gap lesbian sex and bondage, please go elsewhere

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Julia Mulloy, normally a confident, some might say arrogant, 30 something mom and business executive, was in an odd and unsettling sort of agony: a heady mix of deep humiliation and sexual frustration . Stripped of her trendy short skirt, displayed only in her cream colored blouse and black pantyhose, she was tightly affixed to a glossily polished St. Andrew's cross in the middle of a luxuriously appointed dungeon / playroom. A leather strap bisected squirming thighs, an insistent vibrator, installed by her "treacherous" assistant, throbbed against her soaking folds. Julia was unsure what she craved more - freedom or sexual release.

At the controls was that haughty bitch, Cyrnthia Ramsdale. Cynthia, a wealthy 50 something socialite, reclined before her in a cozy leather club chair, legs crossed, an elegant pump dangling from one stockinged foot, her fingers toying with the remote control . An irritating smile creased her meticulously made up face. In the background, through an expansive floor to ceiling picture window Julia could see the carefully groomed grounds of Cynthia's in-town residence, Riverview, with said river winding away in the distance.

"Yes, Julia. We need to talk."

Julia's insults and demands for release were quashed by the tight gag sealing her mouth, reducing her to moans and garbled outrage.

But suddenly the churning vibrator stopped, triggering one more moan of frustration. Cynthia rose, approaching her captive.

"Darling Julia, I'm going to ungag you, but only if you agree to use your 'inside' voice. Understood?"

Julia considered the offer, resisting, briefly any signal of her co-operation with her cruel captor.

Cynthia simply raised an expensively sculpted eyebrow.

With resignation, Julia simply nodded, knowing she had no choice. At least she could look forward to her chance to

quietly

berate her older captor.

"Smart choice."

Cynthia stepped behind the Mahogony fixture, fiddling with the leather strap at the nape of Julia's neck, then gently released the gag that had silenced her "guest". She refastened the strap more loosely, the gag resting now under Julia's chin, where Julia knew it was available for reinsertion if she didn't "behave".

Ungagged, Julia took a deep breath doing her best to more

quietly

express her outrage.

"What the fuck is all this about?"

"Shuuush. Remember, 'inside voice'."

Still behind Julia, Cynthia reached with her left hand around her captive, gently reaching into Julia's creamy blouse and under her lacy bra, firmly gripping, the cruelly pinching an engorged right nipple.

"Owww.....Ok, OK. Just. Stop."

Cynthia loosened her grip, and more gently fondled that ripe nipple and the underlying breast, just as the manicured fingers of her right hand slid down over Julia's flat belly, then probing insistently over Julia's black panty- hosed hips, sliding between Julia's legs where that persistent vibrator had stoked the captive's sexual embers to the boiling point.

"Don't," Julia muttered, her head shaking right to left. But the involuntary response of her hips, pressing forward against Cynthia's probing fingers sent mixed signals to the older woman tormenting her.

Just as Julia was on the brink of losing all control, those teasing fingers eased off. Julia gasped in frustration as Cynthia strode around her, standing now in front of the restrained young executive, a smirk on her face.

"Jean was right. You project that tight assed corporate executive image, but it turns out that veneer hides a horny, submissive slut."

Ignoring the insult, Julia fought to regain her composure.

"You can't do this to me," but it sounded more like a plea than a demand.

"Can't I? Did you happen to read the release you signed, so carefully prepared by the Hospital's law firm?"

Julia thought back. Did Jean, her assistant, hand her some papers to sign when she agreed to this silly fundraising activity?

Cynthia picked up a multiple page document sitting on a side table in her "playroom." "Yes, here is the key line," reading from a paragraph in the 2

nd

page.

"Arrestee agrees that she may be restrained as the arresting officer deems appropriate, and/or as requested by the donor(s) pledging donations in the name of the Arrestee."

"In this case you are the "arrestee' and I am the 'donor.' As it happens, I think it was your handsome husband's firm that wrote this impressive bit of legalese. You should complement him."

"Hmmph. I'm sure they didn't envision this sort of treatment."

Cynthia just snickered. "But there's more! Here's my favorite part:"

"Arrestee agrees to release and hold harmless Childrens' Hospital, the arresting officer, and

any donors

for their use of the discretion to restrain and detain Arrestee as permitted by this Agreement."

"That is your signature on that line above "Arrestee" isn't it, darling?"

Julia looked at the form shown to her by the haughty Mrs. Ramsdale.

"Fuck," She whispered, almost to herself. She had trusted Jean when she said, "just sign here."

Big

mistake.

"Exactly, Darling. And I must say that your lovely assistant and your 'arresting officer' have followed my directions to the T. My bank will be wiring that $5,000 donation to the Hospital in the morning once I give them the go ahead. But between now and then, I intend to get my money's worth, and, once the dust settles, make you an offer that I doubt you will refuse."

"What are you going to do?" Julia quickly realized that her options were now as limited as her freedom.

"Your assistant shared with me dozens of your texts and emails. And I'm going to give you

exactly

what they show you crave: teasing and torment at the hands of a dominant woman. But by someone with far more experience than that sadly inexperienced lady lawyer you've been playing with in Boston."

Cynthia had moved forward as she spoke, running fingers through her captives long, dark, disheveled mane. Her other hand settled at the top of Julia's right thigh, gently stroking over damp pantyhose, her fingers moving closer and closer to Julia's desperate sex.

"Delicious. I like a woman who foregoes undies. Nothing worse than panty lines."

"What did Jean tell you?" Julia whispered, trying unsuccessfully to resist the temptation to thrust against Cynthia's distracting fingers. Why did her brain take note of her tormentor's tastefully manicured nails, polished in a subtle rose shade? Or her provocatively musky and, no doubt, pricy perfume?

"Between her throes of passion in this very room, she confessed her long suppressed crush on you, darling. You never noticed?"

In honesty, Julia had noticed Jean's sometimes fawning attention, all those complements of her appearance and sometimes nosy interest in her personal life. But she just wrote it off to Jean being a loyal assistant. Taking Jean for granted seemed to be another big mistake.

"I'm not your darling."

"Maybe you prefer 'slave'? Isn't that what your Boston lawyer calls you in all those spicy text messages?"

"Her name is Margaret."

"Oh yes, Margaret. I found her on Instagram. Quite alluring. Maybe we can arrange her to visit me here someday? By the way, did your husband really give you the handcuffs she's used to restrain you?"

Cynthia's probing fingers had become even more intrusive, making it all the harder for Julia to focus, to maintain any semblance of her professional demeanor.

"So did he?"

It was getting harder for Julia to focus as those fingers drove her ever closer to the point of no sexual return.

"Yes. Yes. It turns him on when I tell him about Margaret," she reluctantly admitted, hoping that might encourage Cynthia to bring this "torture" to its ultimate climax.

Now Cynthia fiddled with the strap bisecting Julia's thighs, finally releasing the vibrator embedded in her folds, giving her fingers more direct access. Julia moaned again, losing control, she thrust as best she could against her captor's probing fingers.

"I'm sure he'll be all hot and bothered when you tell him about this little adventure, slave. By the way, you're just soaking down here."

Cynthia shamelessly squirmed against fingers that had found her clit, barely shielded by sodden panty hose.

"I'm . . . not . . . your . . . slave."

"Oh really. Let's think about that. You're oh so tightly bound in my dungeon. No one's coming to rescue you. And you're desperate to cum. What does that make you?

Please. . . just let me cum."

"Getting desperate, are we?"

Julia just nodded, her hips thrusting against the teasing nails that always seemed just a tad too gentle to push her over the edge.

"The bitch is just too good at this," Julia thought. Resistance really is futile, she concluded.

"Does Margaret make you beg?"

"Nooo. . . . "

"What a shame. I'm not so lenient."

Fingers kept teasing and taunting Julia's desperate folds.

"Glad to see you keep yourself shaved, slave. One less requirement I will need to make when we reach our understanding."

"What understanding?"

"Oh, we'll get to that later. First you need to tell me what you want right now.

"I want, I

need

to cum . . . ."

"Is that how a polite young lady asks for something?"

"Please let me cum?"

"Now that's progress. . . but please

who

?"

The probing fingers slowed, became more gentle. Julia's was panting now, breath unsteady. Hips thrusting, but without the result she needed. Just short of the edge. Her long afternoon had taken a toll. Her entire body was damp and desperate.

"

Please

Cynthia.... make me cum."

"You can do better than that, slave. What does a slave call the person who controls her orgasms? You just have to admit it Julia. What am I?"

Julia was too frustrated, too focused on the need for release to say what she really thought. That Mrs. Cynthia Ramsdale was an arrogant bitch. Instead, she instinctively knew what needed to be said to finally to win her orgasm.

"Please may I cum,

Mistress

," she murmured in abject surrender.

"Was that so hard?"

Having won Julia's surrender, Cynthia moved forward, hiking up her designer dress, her stockinged leg thrusting between Julia's thighs, fingers and thumb probing and sliding firmly against swollen and soaking clean shaven folds. Cynthia's other hand found the nape of Julia's neck, her lips greedily taking Julia's open mouth, tongue thrusting to assert total possession.

Broken, Julia gave up all resistance, allowing herself to to be taken by her new 'Mistress'. Dizzy with lust, climbing up and finally over the peak of her sexual frustration, Julia shuddered through the sexual release finally granted her. Exhausted, Julia hung helplessly in the restraints that kept her upright.

Cynthia stepped back, smugly satisfied that her afternoon with Julia so far had gone according to plan. Her hand ran along Julia's chest and tummy, releasing the remaining buttons on Julia's damp and rumpled blouse, as she contemplated the upcoming return on her "investment".

"There, wasn't that worth it Julia? All you had to do was acknowledge who is in charge."

Julia continued to shudder through the after effects of what had been the most memorable climax of her life, her breath coming in short bursts, eyes shut as she sought to recover her composure.

"Now let's get you more comfortable, slave."

Cynthis quickly unfastened the bindings securing Julia's wrists. Still drowning in a post-orgasmic daze, Julia was too drained to resist as Cynthia removed her blouse and silky lace bra, then bound her conquests wrists together in front with leather cuffs linked by 3 inches of chain. Cynthia buckled a collar around Julia's neck with a long, connected leash, then removed the restraints that spread Julia's ankles and the leather belt around Julia's waist. With a gentle tug on the leash, Julia stumbled forward. Somehow her shoes had been lost in her ordeal and her feet in their black tights felt the plush hunter green carpeting underfoot.

Now Julia could fully survey the room where she had been imprisoned and ravished. Against the back wall, facing the picture window, was a sumptuous dark walnut four poster bed, seemingly King sized, covered in silky dark green sheets, more chains and leather restraints at each corner. Displayed by subtle lighting on the wood paneled side wall was a collection of what were clearly the "toys" for Cynthia's "playroom": crops, hanks of coiled rope, handcuffs, heavier 'irons' for ankles and wrists. There was an assortment of ever larger phalluses, nipple clamps, and other devices of use unknown to Julia, displayed in a glass fronted antique cabinet of the type some might use to display grandma's antique china. In addition to the leather club chair Cynthia had sat in, there was a large dark brown leather couch against the wall opposite the "Toy" display. The effect was a more expensively furnished version of Christian Grey's infamous "50 Shades" playroom, but with a river view. A chastened Julia, still bound and now leashed, suppressed the urge to sarcastically point this out.

"Before you return the favor, Julia, and please understand that you will, I will give you a chance to 'freshen up'." Cynthia led her new acquisition through a sliding wood paneled door that concealed an exquisitely appointed bathroom, tiled in a softer shade of green, furnished with a double sized walk in shower, toilet, sink and bidet.

Julia held up her hands, "I can't do that without my hands," she murmured.

"Oh, you'll manage. And lose the pantyhose. They are quite

ripe."

Julia discovered why her leash was so long. Cynthia quickly locked it to a bronze colored ring affixed to the floor near the toilet.

"Not that you would even try to escape dressed like that. But it's helpful to remind a new slave that resistance, as they say, is futile."

Julia tended to her needs, removed her laddered hose, and even used a handy collection of primping tools to straighten her long, dark, but thoroughly mussed locks. Her makeup was beyond repair. Cynthia observed contentedly, admiring the long legs and shapely curves of her new "slave", now completely naked. When her charge finally had completed her ablutions, she unhooked Julia's leash, pulling gently.

"To the bed, Julia."

"Aren't you done with me yet."

"Oh, hardly. As the song goes, 'we've only just begun'."

Julia's eyes rolled.

"I hate the Carpenters."

TO BE CONTINUED.