Author's note: This story is strictly a work of fiction. It is pure fantasy from the imagination of the author. Any similarities to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All players are over the age of eighteen. If you have a problem with non-consensual sex, go no further! If you have a problem with bondage or BDSM play, go no further. Please note that the author does not condone violence against women of any kind. This is purely a fantasy for entertainment. Constructive criticism and comments are welcome at the end of the story. Thank you and enjoy.
"Hey Kira, can I talk to you a second?"
"Sure."
I pushed back away from my computer terminal and stretched. I rotated my neck to get the kinks out of it before turning my attention to Rodney, one of my coworkers.
"Not here," Rodney said, "my office."
I gulped.
"Don't worry," he said as he held the door open for me, "you're not in any trouble."
I sat down across from his desk and smoothed my skirt over my knees. Rodney sat and leaned back in his leather chair.
"I wanted to ask you a special favor."
"This isn't illegal, is it?"
He laughed.
"I promise it's not. You know Mr. Anderson's birthday is next week, right?"
"Sure." I had worked at Anderson Accounting for ten years. My boss, Anthony Anderson, was pretty cool. He was mostly all business, but he knew how to let loose and have a good time, especially when he got more than two drinks in him. He was also one of the youngest CEOs in our district. He was about to turn thirty.
Rodney leaned forward on his desk.
"The guys and I want to really show him a good time. He is wild about belly dancers. If you would come and entertain, I am sure he would love it. I would definitely make it worth your while money wise."
Yes, my other job was that of a professional belly dancer. I loved it, and the truth of the matter was that I always had a crush on my boss. I crossed my legs. A wet spot formed in my panties as I thought of dancing for Mr. Anderson.
"I would love to help you out," I said as I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose.
"Good. If I could just get you to sign this," he passed a piece of paper over to me, "then we can work out the details."
"What is it?" I asked quizzically.
"It's a non-disclosure agreement. Basically it's saying that you agree not to discuss what happens at the party with anyone who was not in attendance. Things might get a little, shall we say, juicy? We don't want Mr. Anderson's reputation tarnished, now do we?"
"No, of course not."
"Take your time and look it over," he encouraged.
I read the terms of the NDA. It seemed on the up and up. I took a pen from the cup on Rodney's desk and I signed it. I passed the agreement back to him.
"Splendid! I will send you an email of all the arrangements."
"Thank you, Rodney." I stood up. He came around the desk to let me out of his office.
Saturday night came. Mr. Anderson lived in a big beautiful mansion overlooking the cliff side and the ocean. I went to one of the guest rooms to change my clothes. I wore a simple jogging suit and gym shoes to the party, but in my garment bag I had a typical "little black dress" and my costume.
Hazel colored prescription contacts replaced my glasses and changed the color of my brown eyes. My dark hair was pulled back into a bun that was enhanced with additional extensions to give me a large, elegant bun at the nape of my beck. My makeup and false eyelashes took me from a conservative little accountant to a beautiful mysterious woman of the desert. I took some contour and painted my belly to look like I had a gorgeous six pack. My skirt was full and black with a silver coin belt. My bra, also black, was adorned with silver chains and coins. A marching choker also with coins dangling went around my neck. I also slid alternating black and silver bangles on both wrists. My veil was short in the front with a thick covering for my face and long in the back. The veil had special ties for my wrists to fit through. As I was finishing up, I jumped when I heard a knock on the door.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened. Rodney stepped through with two men I had never seen before. They carried an ornate black and gold trunk.
"Kira," Rodney breathed, "I hardly recognized you! You look so beautiful!"
I spun in a circle so that he could see me. To my amazement, Rodney came up to me and slapped my ass.
"Remember how I said things might get a little juicy tonight?"
"Yes?"
"How far are you willing to go to please Mr. Anderson and make a little extra money?"
He stepped a little closer to me. I stepped back.
"Mr. Anderson has, shall we say, alternative tastes. Are you familiar with bondage and discipline play?"
My heart thudded in my chest.
"I....I have read about it, but that's all."
Truth was that I had done more than read about it. I had been very curious for some time about being tied up and having someone fuck me or feel on me. More often than not, at night, when my hand went into my panties, Mr. Anderson was my captor, and I was his precious little victim.
"Like I said, how far will you go to make your boss happy?"
He pulled a white scarf from his pocket.
"What are you going to do with that?"
"Not me. You, Kira. You are going to gag yourself. Then you are going to get into that trunk. My friends will carry you downstairs to where the birthday boy is waiting for the surprise of his life. Don't worry, you will be able to breathe in the trunk."
"I...I..."
Could I really do this?
"You can do it, Kira. The veil will hide the gag."
I gulped. I took the cloth and put it in my mouth. Rodney snapped his fingers. One of the men brought him a roll of some white tape.
"This is microfoam tape," he explained. It's used on surgical wounds. It's quite sticky. Tear off a strip and put it over that pretty mouth of yours."
My heart was racing like a horse. I tore off a large strip of tape and laid it over my lips. Instantly, it molded to my skin. Rodney smoothed it down over my cheeks.
"Comfortable, my dear?"
I nodded.
"Say something for me."
"Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm."
Rodney smiled and took my arm. "Into the trunk, my sweet." He helped me inside. I cringed when they closed the lid. I felt them hoist me into the air. They began to carry me.
What if I made a mistake? What if they planned to do something awful to me? I felt my heart pound loudly. Then I heard voices and music playing. I relaxed somewhat. At least I wasn't being placed on a boat bound for God knows where. The voices died down.
"We have a present for you, Anthony," I heard Rodney say. I heard soft music that put me in the mind of a desert sunset. The lid of the trunk was finally opened. Mr. Anderson sat in a chair dressed in dark pants, a beige shirt with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up. Slowly, I rose from the trunk. I made eye contact with him as I began to gently roll my shoulders and sway my arms. The two men lifted me out of the trunk. His eyes never left me. The other guests watched silently. The lights were dim. Candles on the tables lit the way. I knelt in the center of the room. Slowly I rolled my hips in a figure eight motion before doing a back end and rolling my belly up towards the ceiling. I kept my floor routine sensual as I did splits, crept forward on my knees, and ended up in front of Mr. Anderson's lap. I put my hands on his knees and looked up towards him. His eyes had grown dark with desire.
"I want you," he mouthed. I crept onto his lap and faced him. Cupping his face in my hands, I felt his erection through my panties. I was tempted to grind on him, but not here. Instead, I stood up and continued dancing. I knew I had wet his tongue.
When the music ended, the guests clapped. I was sweating. I made my way back to the bedroom where I had changed clothes. I was about to take the tape off my mouth when someone grabbed me from behind. It was one of the big men who had carried me in the trunk.
"Hmmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm!" I cried.
