Bliss

"Do you know what this is?" Malcolm asked, interrupting me. It was a Friday morning in late July, and I was sitting in a chair in front of his desk, going over the lost ad contracts for the last quarter. I had come in to invite him to dinner with my family – my brother and his family were going to be visiting from Portland – but got a bit sidetracked. (Ok, I lost my nerve. It happens.) I looked up to find him holding up an oddly shaped pink rod, about an inch or so long, with a wire coming out one end and two half-moon shaped flanges on either side.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "What is it?"

"It's called an 'Oyster'." He held it out to me and I took it. The pink plastic was soft and smooth, it felt almost greasy.

"New client?" I asked, handing it back to him.

"No." He looked at me and gave me his slow and wicked smile. Knowing what that smile usually meant, I felt my stomach clench involuntarily at it in a Pavlovian response- one of many he was capable of producing in me.

"What is it?" I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Come here, poppit," he said, leaning back in his big leather chair and motioning me to him.

"Luna could come in at any moment, Malcolm," I said in a half-hearted protest as I stood up and moved to stand in front of him.

He smiled and reached past my left hip, buzzing his assistant.

"Yes, Mr. White?" Luna asked, her voice soft but nasal.

"Please see to it that Ms Williams and I are not disturbed, Luna."

"Yes, Mr. White."

"Thank you." Malcolm leaned back in his chair again and looked up at me. "Any further protests?" He grabbed the hem of my skirt and started raising it up.

"We're at work," I said softly as Malcolm continued to raise my skirt, gathering the fabric as he went.

"I am well aware of where we are," he said, tucking the front of my skirt in to my waistband. He caressed me over my panties, running his hand down over my crotch and between my legs.

"We agreed..." I began.

"I made no promises," he said, caressing my thigh and smiling at me. "Spread your legs a bit."

I obeyed, as I always did, even at work. I had laid down the ground rule of keeping our involvement out of the office, but thus far it had been more of a guideline. It seemed one of Malcolm's favorite past times was teasing me, and one of his favorite ways of teasing me was getting me turned on just to the point of distraction and then backing off. He never impeded my ability to do my job, but he came amazingly close to it. Every time.

I gasped a bit as he reached inside my panties, placing the pink rod against my lips. I felt his fingers brush along my skin and smiled, my eyes on his. He removed his hand and I felt him smooth my panties down, pressing that pink thing in to me.

"This is made by a very reputable English company," Malcolm said, smiling at me with pride.

"It's from England?"

"Yes."

"Did you wash it after you last used it?" I teased, smiling at him. After I had refused to let him insert a plug in my ass on the grounds that I didn't know where it had been before me, he had explained to me that every implement he used to touch my body was brand new. He had, in fact, indignantly sworn it, and I had enjoyed teasing him about it ever since.

"Keep making those accusations and I will be forced to punish you," he said, smiling at me darkly, looking into my eyes. There was nothing more I wanted at that moment than to be punished. Nothing. I was so tempted to tease him more, but time and place restricted me. He took a small white gadget, about the size of an old pager, and clipped it to the waistband of my garter before attaching the cord from the thing he placed in my panties. He untucked my skirt and smoothed it over my thighs before rising from his chair. There was a slight bulge at my waist, but it was covered by my blouse.

"Malcolm?"

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, standing in front of me and holding up his keyring with his car fob in his hand.

"Your car fob?"

"No. This is my car fob," he said, turning his hand to show me the remote for his car against his knuckles. "This is far more valuable," he said, showing me what was in his palm again.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling a bit breathless.

"This is my poppit fob," he said. He pressed a button and the thing in my panties came to life, vibrating gently against my pussy lips, the sensation traveling to my clit.

"Malcolm," I sighed, reaching out and grabbing his left arm. "Please..."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair with his right hand, pulling my head back as he pulled me against him. I moaned (I couldn't help it. I love it when he grabs me by my hair.), and he shushed me, that wicked smile back on his face. I closed my eyes, concentrating on breathing and trying to ignore the maddening vibration in my panties.

"It's only on one, poppit. Let's see how you react to two."

"Please, no." I whispered as the vibrations increased. It wasn't unbearable. In fact, I didn't even think it would be enough to make me orgasm. It would just keep me wet and wanting all day.

"Look at me, poppit. Open your eyes," I obeyed, looking up at Malcolm. He was watching my face intently, his expression serious but detached, almost clinical. "Let's try three."

"Malcolm," I moaned, my right hand tightening on his arm as the vibrations increased again. The evil little vibrator was sending waves of sensation against my clit, making it swell as my pussy got wetter, but still stopped short of making me come.

It was maddening.

"You like three, poppit?" Malcolm pulled my hair tighter, forcing me to arch my back against him. "Should I leave it at three all day?"

"No. Please, Malcolm. Please don't. People will hear it," I whined.

"No they won't," he chuckled. "They won't hear a thing. The Oyster is practically silent."

"No," I whimpered.

"Hush.... Just listen," Malcolm said, bending down to put his lips next to my ear. I closed my eyes and concentrated on listening. I strained my ears, and while I could feel the vibrations, which made me think I could hear it, I couldn't actually hear anything at all. "No one will hear a thing, poppit. Unless

you

make noise."

"Oh god, no..."

"Tell me...how does four feel?"

The malignant little toy began to thrum frantically against my lips, sending its pulsing sensations right through me. It felt good, but it still wasn't enough to get me off, and it ended up making my pussy ache for Malcolm, desperate to feel him inside me. I raised my left hand to Malcolm's shoulder and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself and control my breathing.

"Do you like four?" Malcolm asked, his lips brushing my ear. I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak. "Liar," he hissed, his tongue tracing along my earlobe. The vibrations dropped suddenly, becoming almost imperceptible, and I gave a heavy shuddering sigh.

"Please stop," I whispered, looking into his deep green eyes. The vibrations jumped back up. "It's going to make me crazy."

"Why?" The vibrations lessened a bit again. I looked down at his hand and realized he was randomly pressing buttons.

"Oh god, I'm so wet," I sighed as the vibrator slowed again.

"That's the point." Right back up to four.

"Take me home and fuck me. Please. I can't stand it. I want you to bend me over and fuck me as hard as you can. Please." The sensations abated slightly as he took it down one level. "Please."

"We can't. We have a meeting in 30 minutes, remember?" He tasted my mouth, licking my lips lightly with his tongue as the torment between my legs increased again. I leaned against him and felt his hard cock against my hip.

"I don't care," I pleaded. "Please. I need you to fuck me. Let's just go – anywhere – please. I need to feel your cock in me." The vibrations picked up yet again and I squeezed his shoulder harder. "Oh god, Malcolm. Please. You can even fuck my ass. Please." He raised his eyebrows in surprise at my words; he had been hinting for weeks about having me anally, but he never pushed it, and under ordinary circumstances I certainly wouldn't bring it up. I'd never had anal sex and the idea scared the bejeezus out of me.

"I will remember that," he said quietly, turning the vibrator off. He kissed me softly on the corner of my mouth before moving his lips to my ear. "And I will take you up on it soon enough."

He extricated himself from me and sat back down at his desk, leaning back in his chair to smile at me. I leaned against his desk and started to reach under my skirt to take out his new toy, but he stopped me with a shake of his head.

"You can go clean yourself up, but I want you to leave it in during the meeting."

"You can't be serious?" He just looked at me levelly. "But...I can't..."

"You can and you will," he said, cutting me off. "And you will keep it with you, and wear it when I tell you to." He grabbed my right hand with both of his and held it palm up.

"But..." I began again, not even sure what I was going to say. It didn't matter if I had a speech prepared and memorized; Malcolm kissed my palm before tracing its lines with the tip of tongue, and I was lost.

"Do not disappoint me, Melody." He dropped my hand and sat back again.

"I won't," I whispered.

"Take a moment to collect yourself, and then I think you better visit the loo before the meeting?"

"Right," I said, giving him a shaky smile. I gathered up my paperwork and stood at the door, my hand poised on the handle, taking a few deep breaths. I turned back towards him. "Better?" I asked.

He simply nodded at me. Funny, I can remember exactly how he looked at that moment. His suit was a dark charcoal, his shirt a gorgeous burgundy that made his eyes look even greener. There was a slight bulge in his suit pants, and he sat back with his left hand on the armrest of his leather chair, his right hand tapping a pen against his lips. He looked back at me with an odd look on his face, almost a surprised look, not smiling. He just looked so commanding, sexy; I wanted to kneel in front of him and just stare.

I may not remember what I had for dinner last night, but I will remember how he looked that clear July day for the rest of my life.

I walked out and handed the files to Luna, asking her to make sure they made it to the conference room as I had to use the restroom before the meeting. She took them and smiled without looking up at me, assuring me they would be there for the meeting.

I made my way as quickly as possible to the bathroom, afraid others may be able to hear me squelch as I walked. I took the stall farthest from the door and carefully lowered my panties, the little pink demon nestled in the crotch. I sat and grabbed some paper to clean it off, picking it up and looking at it in near-wonder. It seemed so innocuous, so nondescript, if you didn't know what it was you would likely never guess. It was hard to believe something so unremarkable looking could cause so much internal mayhem.

Leave it to Malcolm, I thought, dropping it in the crotch of my panties. I cleaned myself up best I could with only toilet paper, considering my options. Option one: I could take this off and suffer the punishment. The idea was incredibly tempting and I smiled at that, wondering what he would come up with as a punishment. I had a masochistic side of me that surprised me with its width and breadth; the first time the pain he lavished on me pushed me to orgasm left me shell-shocked and weeping in his arms, unable to stop for what seemed like hours. I eventually managed to maintain my composure when it happened again (and again and again, etc), accepting within my deepest understanding of myself that I can enjoy pain –

his

pain – and far from upsetting me, the realization made me happy. I remarked to him once, after he broke a crop over my thighs as I came, that my enjoyment of his 'punishments' may prove to be a premium on failure, that I may strive to be punished so he would again tie me up, tie me down, tie me over something and welt me. He just smiled at me and stroked my cheek.

Option two: I could obey him, as I usually do, knowing that Malcolm was a very generous lover, and that there may be much to be gained from allowing him his fun today, knowing my reward for doing so could be tenfold tonight. And, given my nature and his understanding of it, my reward could very well include time spent cuffed, clamped and whipped. I shivered at the possibility. My decision made, I stood up and carefully re-dressed, reseating the little tormentor where Malcolm had originally had it. I flushed and left the stall to wash my hands.

I looked up as I lathered my hands at the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Every time I saw Tony he would comment on how different I looked, usually exclaiming how amazing I looked. And he was right, I did look different. I couldn't exactly put my finger on it, but it was there. Other people had noticed, too. Krissie kept asking me what I was doing and where I was going for my facials. Even Ian took notice, asking me if I was using this product or that product. I smiled at myself, wondering what they would say if I told them the reason I looked so different was because I was regularly bound and brought to orgasm repeatedly before being fucked absolutely stupid. Still, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror, with results like these, if it could be bottled and sold people would buy it.

I smiled at that thought as I dried my hands. I wondered, as I made my way to the conference room, what that ad campaign would look like. I saw Alyssa talking to Ian and Malcolm just outside the conference room and smiled as I passed by them, always surprised at the height difference between the two men. I couldn't catch exactly what she was saying, just enough to know she was asking for help with something about the soda account. I paused on my way in, but the grouping gave me no notice and so I went and took my accustomed seat towards the head of the large table, making small talk with the others already seated and those who trickled in.

At long last Ian, Malcolm and Alyssa came in; Ian took his place at the head, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as Malcolm pulled Alyssa's chair out for her. She looked up at him when he did and smiled, batting her eyes a bit, but it was lost on him. His actions seemed perfunctory more than chivalrous. I smiled a bit smugly to myself at that, believing if it were my chair, it would be the opposite.

Ian droned on for forty minutes or so, giving updates on new accounts and possible leads before turning the meeting over to Malcolm. Malcolm went over the lost accounts, highlighting problems with the account management that may have contributed to them jumping ship, and pointing out ways to curtail any further losses. He was as brief as Ian was longwinded, but I couldn't concentrate on either of them. I was too focused on the little pink vibrator in my panties, too preoccupied with wondering when it would go off again. To say I was on the edge of my seat is an understatement.

As soon as Malcolm finished, he opened the floor up to any questions, and I felt that demonic little toy between my legs come to life again. I bit my tongue to keep from making any noise and kept my eyes on the folders directly in front of me. After a few questions from others, the meeting was over and everyone stood to leave.

I got up, grabbing my folders as the vibrations between my legs increased, and made my way towards the door. I walked slowly, concentrating on appearing as normal as possible, walking as normal as possible (which is hard to do, really, as you never really think of how you walk when you're

not

concentrating on walking normal, so there's not much to compare it to), when suddenly that mean little vibe began thrumming even faster, and I dropped my folders on the ground. They exploded, the papers sprawling out across the carpet. I dropped to my knees to gather them up, closing my eyes a moment to try and collect myself.

"Let me help you, Melody," Malcolm said, quickly rising and moving around the table. The vibrator stilled as he squat down next to me. I started gathering papers and putting them on the table as quickly as possible – I would sort them later, I just wanted to get back to the sanctuary of my office.

"Feeling alright?" Malcolm asked under his breath, smirking at me in that infinitely sexy way he has as he gathered a folder and leaned over me to place it on the table.

"You are a criminal," I whispered at him, my entire body flushed not only with his tormenting of it but also his nearness. I would have given anything at that moment to be alone with him. He just winked at me and handed me the stack of papers and folders in his hand before standing back up.

I rose, gathering the papers from the table and joining them with the ones in my hands. Alyssa came around the table and stood next to Malcolm. "What a mess, Melody," she said.

"Yeah," I sighed, smiling at her tiredly. "I guess my mind was on something else."

"Are you alright?" she asked, sliding herself closer to Malcolm. I watched the space between them disappear and gave an inward groan. Alyssa was tall. Alyssa was thin. Alyssa was so beautiful she was often mistaken for a model. And, worst of all, Alyssa was thirteen years my junior.

"Fine, really," I said with a sigh. "I think I just need to get out of here. It's so stuffy." This was a lie. The conference room was so cool I was surprised I couldn't see my breath. I could see Malcolm looking at me closely for a brief moment, but kept my face down. "Time to get back to work," I said, as cheerfully as possible, moving around them and walked quickly back to my office.

I closed the door to my office and dropped the pile of papers and folders on my desk, heading for the window. I stood, looking out at Elliott Bay, thinking about Alyssa and her gravity-defying tits, how close they were to Malcolm. Every time I had glanced over to them during the meeting she was touching him or leaning in to him, openly flirting. I felt my fists clenching, and had to concentrate on relaxing them.

It's not that I was jealous, exactly. Well, no, I was jealous, but not of her. I had asked Malcolm, at the start of our...whatever...why he wasn't pursuing a much younger girl. Everything I had read or viewed about D/s and BDSM, without exception, had an older man/younger woman theme, with the men being called Daddy or Master and the women being called baby girl or kitten., referred to as a pet. It was one of the things that put me off, and very nearly caused me to walk away from what Malcolm offered me. But he assured me he was not interested in such a situation. He'd tried something like it before and it wasn't for him. (He didn't offer any details, and I certainly wasn't going to press the matter.) He didn't want a pet, he wanted a lover, and his simple statement was enough reassurance for me.

I smiled at the memory of lying with Marcus, holding hands and talking quietly. I was beginning to wonder if just being lovers was going to be enough. A knock at my office door brought me back to the present.

"Come in," I said, not turning around. I knew who it would be.

"You seemed upset," he said, closing my door behind him. I turned to face him, noting his concern.

"I'm not upset, Malcolm."

"Are you not feeling well?" He seemed unsure, which surprised me. He was never unsure. "Was it the Oyster? Was it too much?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine, it's fine. Really." I walked back to my desk and sat down. "Don't you have a more...pressing appointment?" I asked, grabbing the mess of documents and starting to sort them. It was a job I would normally ask Krissie to do, but I wanted some mindless, busy work time.

"Alyssa?" Malcolm asked. I could sense him looking at me closely, but I wouldn't look up at him, afraid to give anything away by my facial expression. Instead I just shrugged, more fool me.