When she got the box at work, by messenger, she couldn't help the smile that played at her lips. It appeared to be just a normal delivery by courier, much like any other that she would get three or four times a week. Normally these boxes would contain checks or some essential paper to the business that she managed the office for, and to the other office personnel, that's what it looked to contain. It was only her practiced eye that saw the difference. It occurred to her that he was counting on that.
First of all, the company only used one courier and this one wasn't it. Secondly, anyone could sign and leave it on her desk, but for this package, she had to sign personally. They came and pulled her out of a meeting for it. It had an invoice on the front that proclaimed
"Contains instructions for delivery and claims. Open First."
She tried to appear nonchalant carrying the package to her desk, even as she felt her knees shake and a trickle of wet moving down her thigh. Setting the package just at the side of the center of her desk was the hardest thing she had done all week. The urge to run into her office, close and lock the door and tear it open was so compelling, she still can't believe she actually made it look like just another set of papers from the main office. She wanted to at least arrange it on her desk, just so. Square it up to the blotter and work it around like a meal she's been waiting on.
She had no idea what was in it, but just that it was from "him" was enough to make her want to rip the cardboard apart with her back to the door and her chest heaving. She was able to close and lock the door without suspicion, but now she was impatient over this meeting. Already thinking it had gone on too long before she had opened the door. She worked hard to compose herself. It takes longer than ten minutes to decide a multi million dollar budget.
She walked in and sat back down in her spot, acutely aware that her panties had somehow become soaked in just those few short minutes since she last sat in this chair. It was funny that she could only think "I hope I don't leave an obvious spot". She had an urge to giggle.
She might not have any idea what was in that box, but getting something like that from him meant she was going to cum harder than she'd ever cum before – and that was true every time – and it was going to be something that would make her shaky and smiley for days if not weeks. Her officemates spent a bit of time trying to figure her relationship out, but this just wasn't available for their consumption.
They wondered, she knew. Maybe even thought she was getting beat. There were just too many bruises and too many abrasions. The times her wrists had the rope burns and she couldn't stay seated all day. The times with bruises she hadn't realized she had until she got to work in the wrong clothes. She knew better now than to wear anything showing cleavage after one of these sessions. There was still talk about her cat scratching her up so bad.
She could feel the moisture starting to pool under her ass. "These panties are a complete waste", she thought, just as she noticed everyone looking at her. Obviously she'd been asked a question and had no clue what it was or how to respond. He always did this to her. Got her all worked up so she couldn't pay attention if her job depended on it. She looked down and shuffled her paperwork, but it was no use. She was going to have to tell everyone she wasn't paying attention.
"I'm not sure I have that," she said to stall. It worked! At least this time.
Her counterpart at main suddenly remembered she hadn't sent it. The paper got passed over and she was able to work her way through the problem before her mind strayed back to the desk and her package.
She hadn't even known what a quirt was before the last package yielded one up into her hands. She knows he sends them to her work to give her that little bit of extra anxiety and discomfort. Makes her have to be furtive and reminds her of the distance between the vanilla world and her path of submission. The distance that grew with every package.
She managed to join the conversation just a moment before it turned to her part and this time she actually heard what they needed from her and could respond. That was close. Try as she might, she already knew she wouldn't be able to stop her mind and she had stopped trying to a long time ago now. He was in total control of whether she would be able to have attention left for her job or not. She was barely hanging on right now and at any time he might call or send her something else that'll make her lose it completely.
She was getting the feeling of being in a wading pool and sitting on the top step. It was moist all the time, but every now and then a wave would push up between her knees, splash against her pussy and gush out to mingle with the fluids collected under her bottom.
The thought of the quirt was making her quiver. She'd had to smuggle it out in her purse after taking peeks at it all day. It looked so evil and yet so innocent, she could barely put it down. She kept taking it up and holding it in her hands whenever she had a moment through that day. The leather was smooth and yet the braiding was almost rough. It had certainly looked rough! The strands would hang down like some miniature medieval whip every time she would pick it up and then would lay splayed out when she would set it down onto her desk. There was a loop to hold it to the wrist with a bead on the end of that.
When she had first picked it up, she immediately thought she would be whipped with the bead and had almost cried with the thought that she wouldn't be able to do it. As she looked at it over and over during the day, however, she realized that it was just the straps that she would be spanked with (she knew that much for sure, that it was for her flesh). That didn't help a lot with the trepidation she felt, but at least it wouldn't be something that would scar her.
The whippings still frightened her. Not the actual smack of leather, that could soak her panties even more than they were now just knowing it was coming, but the way she craved it. The way her body responded even as or even if her mind resisted. The first time he'd spanked her, she knew she wanted it but it had still left her uncertain about herself. He'd really paddled her, too. Left her red, hot and sore. Sitting on her ass all the next week had made her wet and dreamy. Her first whipping was absolute heaven.
She was sucking him, stroking his long cock with her mouth, bathing it with her saliva when the lashes struck her full across one buttock. It was a stinging, slapping feeling and made her shove his rod into her throat, she'd jumped so hard. As more and more lashes struck, she was positively gobbling at his dong and he was loving it!
A few weeks later he'd sent her the quirt.
He's shattered all her boundaries. She tried to maintain them every step of the way, but he would push a little here and there until she found herself so far out beyond where she believed herself that she had to finally succumb. And he knew when this moment was. He told her that night "you'll do what you're told now."
It was a bit at a time. She can't fault him. He'd told her from the beginning how he would make her a "good little sub". How he was patient and moulding, but that she would get there in the end. She would be that submissive that she denied vehemently. The quirt was almost the last straw. She fretted and debated. She worried and countless times made up her mind never.
One of the times she had decided that she wouldn't do it, almost as though he'd read her mind, he called. In a gentle, friendly voice, he'd described how it would feel to her and how he would use it. How it would cut into her tender flesh and leave streaks of red that he could trace with his fingers as he fucked her, no pounded her from behind. That had made her panic. In the end, it was her dripping pussy that set her in the driver's seat on her way to him with the quirt in her purse. And they say men think with their dicks.
Those first lashes from those braided leather straps had bit into her flesh, just like he had told her, and she had jumped with fright, but it was already too late as she strained against the bindings with each jolt. He whipped her ass as she begged for more and the thin strips stung her breasts as he drove his piece so forcefully into her pussy from behind that he could have whipped her with razors and she wouldn't have noticed. Her sore little ass being spanked by his groin as he rammed that beautiful cock into her sodden pussy stayed in her thoughts for weeks afterwards. Left her reeling.
She would often find herself, just as now, daydreaming about the whippings, the fuckings, the tortures he subjected her to on an ongoing basis. It was a struggle to maintain connection to all these plain people with their flavorless lives. She would float off into that world that he'd taken her to where she had no idea of pleasure or pain or time. Only the next sensation. The next incredible, consuming orgasm. The next feeling of utter lostness he'll give her.
She had no doubt that that package contained a mind numbing adventure. Another bigger drug to feed her addiction for him. She stretched her legs a little, just to check whether the muscles were still sore. It had been three days, but she was often sore for five or more. This time, there was a little tinge of memory stiffness, but nothing more. A mischievous grin forced its way past her stoic face and she quickly tried to hide it. She had never been so much out of control as he has made her. She forced her mind back to pay attention to the stupid pitiful fucking meeting and again it was just in time to say her part.
When the meeting finally ended, she couldn't get out of there fast enough. They were making plans for lunch and were including her and all she could say was "just let me know, I've got to go get this package taken care of." Her hands shook as she unlocked her door and she dropped the keys trying to lock it back from the inside. She took some steadying breaths with her back against the door and could feel the wetness flowing past her pussy lips, dripping along her thighs and past her knees.
She knew she didn't have much time and hurried over to tear the package open. Her hands wouldn't work right and the cardboard ended up being shredded since it wouldn't tear on the seams. "Fucking thing," she thought as she tore at it desperately. Three months ago, had she seen this scene in a movie, she would have scoffed. She would never have believed that it was vaguely realistic. Yet here she was. Frustrated. Desperate. Needy. Dripping and aching.
Her pussy was sending ache throbs ripping through her body. They would start at her groin and thrum through her stomach, jolting her nipples and chest and trying to push a moan out through her throat. It was making her hands tremor out of control and she dropped the package out onto the floor.
