Tae Your Subbie to Wor Day

"Right in here," he opened the door for me and we entered. "I just need a minute to pick up a file on my desk," he told me as we walked through the half-darkened office. I nodded. I was feeling pretty compliant by now, at peace with the world. The evening had both relaxed me and elevated my mood.

It shouldn't have been a special night out, but to me it was. It was "just" dinner out and then home. Like a real, normal couple. "Wear a skirt" he had told me, but other than that he said he'd plan the evening. I was excited, but trying very hard to keep my expectations realistic.

I didn't overdress, wearing a simple black miniskirt and a green top, with my favorite black strappy sandals with the 2" heels. It was appropriate for a barbeque place or a nice steakhouse. I thought I was covered. When he picked me up, he was dressed pretty nicely himself. Not in a suit, but then again, it WAS summer. A nice polo shirt, black pants, and leather shoes and a belt that matched. Mmm mmm good, I thought to myself.

I was pleased with the restaurant he picked. It was nice, not overly pricey or snobby, but fairly quiet. We got a booth in a corner. When I slid into my side, a thrill of excitement ran through my veins when he gestured for me to slide all the way in and he sat next to me, rather than across from me.

The meal itself was good from what I could recall, as I sat in the conference room waiting for him to get his file so we could get on with the rest of the evening. I didn't remember the food clearly, because I had been distracted by all of the sweet, sexy, and utterly decadent dirty things he had whispered in my ear throughout the meal. I glanced down. He had barely even touched me, but my nipples were achingly hard, and I could feel the wetness of my pussy. I had been a little scared at the restaurant that I might leave a wet spot on the seat, but luckily I hadn't. I was also very glad that the skirt I wore was black. Just in case.

I heard a noise at the doorway to the conference room I was in, and looked up with an expectant smile which faded as I saw just one of the cleaning crew with a hand sweeper. I didn't know how far in the building his office was, but it seemed like it was taking an awfully long time for him to return. I was starting to get just a tad impatient.

I stood up and walked to the doorway, looking up and down the corridor, but not seeing him. I sighed heavily and started pacing the room. My euphoria was starting to wear off, and irritation was setting in. It wasn't that I was angry, but I thought for just one evening, it would be only us, concentrating on each other, and living in the moment. I had been halfway in sub-space just from listening to him for the past couple of hours, but it was waning, and waning quickly, dammit!

As I was facing the far end of the room as I stalked around, I heard the door click shut and I turned around. He was back, and there was nothing in his hand. I raised my hands and shrugged, "Where's this ultra-important project?"

He didn't smile, and I realized I had sounded a bit petulant. I apologized, but he didn't answer, only walked across the room to me. I was now upset with myself, that I had with just one stupid comment, ruined a terrific evening. I apologized again, feeling like I had disappointed him. I hated and loved the fact that I wanted to please him so much. Normally I was a pretty considerate person, but it was fairly rare that I felt such a need to gain someone's approval. I had examined this issue before and came to the conclusion that this was where the D/s aspect of our relationship most commonly manifested itself.

He still didn't say a word, only grabbed me by the upper arm and led me over to the conference table. I had a bad feeling about this, but I cooperated. I stood there and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk scarf. My mouth dropped open, as he grinned suddenly. "Here?!" I said incredulously. If I thought I was off-kilter before, my stomach was suddenly in my throat and I was nervous.

He still didn't say anything, just ostentatiously folded and knotted the scarf in the middle. He turned me around and only said one word. "Open," and as I opened my mouth he fitted the knot between my lips and tightly tied the scarf behind my head.

I could feel my inhibitions lowering and my submissive streak starting to rise as he turned me back around to face him. He smiled, and I tried to smile back, but with little success. The gag was just too tight and I knew my face would ache tomorrow. He kissed me, lingeringly and softly, until I moaned just a bit, muffled as the sound was by the silk in my mouth.

He drew back and whispered "so sweet" at me, as he reached into his pocket again and pulled out another scarf. I shivered as I wondered exactly what he was going to do with this one. He folded this one just like the first and gestured for me to turn around again. This one fell across my eyes, and the world went dark as he knotted this one in place. He spun me around and kissed me again, and I felt my frustration level rise. This was familiar territory for us, and I enjoyed the neediness I felt.

No matter how angry, frustrated, assertive, or even not aroused I felt, as soon as the gag was put in my mouth, or the blindfold tied around my eyes, I felt a little bit lost and adrift. Like He was the only one who could guide me home. Not to mention, I felt my hormones start racing. Every time. I was sure somehow I was conditioned to react that way, but I didn't really care to analyze it too much.

He bent me over the conference table, and commanded me, "Stay." It didn't even occur to me to stand back up. He moved behind me and kicked my legs apart just enough that my skirt rode up, exposing my pink ruffled panties to him. Behind the blindfold, I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment as I could feel cool air on my hot and wet pussy, even through the gusset of my panties.

He stood behind me and bent over my back. I could feel his body pressing down on mine as he nibbled on my ear. Between my legs, I could feel that he was aroused already too, and I almost purred. "Don't move," he warned me again as he stood up. As if I could think for myself. The past few hours had slowly induced me into a submissive state of mind, and I didn't care to fight it. I felt the ropes on my ankles, securing me to the table legs, and then he was at the other end of the furniture, pulling my arms above my head and tying them to the table so I was effectively immobilized. He pulled my head up and kissed me again, first my upper lip and then my lower lip, and I whimpered. His tongue traced my mouth and I tried futilely to kiss him. It didn't matter anymore what I wanted; it was all about him guiding me, no - guiding US together, to whatever scenario he was concocting. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but he was walking around the room. I tried to listen closely, to get a clue, but I just couldn't tell. It both frustrated me and made me more excited to not know.

I jumped at the first smack on my bottom. It wasn't a hard smack, but it was a bit unexpected. I heard a muffled sound come out of my mouth, more of a surprised sound than an agonized moan. He smacked me again and again, and then a small flurry of spanks that made me twist back and forth. It hurt, but not beyond my initial tolerance level. I closed my eyes again behind the blindfold and concentrated on breathing and relaxing. Relaxing into the swats seemed to make it hurt less than tensing up, and it always brought on the endorphin rush just a little bit faster.

He stopped after what seemed like about five or six minutes, but might have been shorter. When I couldn't speak or see, or move even, it was hard to measure the passage of time. He rubbed my warmed up bottom and I squirmed. I love that part best of all, I think. The spanking sensitized my skin and even the lightest touch was sensual and exquisite. As he caressed me, he whispered into my ear how sensuous I looked, bound to his conference table, and how maybe he would leave me there overnight for someone to discover in the morning when they showed up for work.

I was a bit startled at that idea! It wasn't the first time he suggested restraining me for the entire night, but it was the first time it was somewhere public. I imagined the scene the next morning, as he described the shock and surprise that would welcome the first person that walked into the room. It was both torturous and a turn on to imagine. When his hand strayed a bit lower and rubbed my wetness through my panties, I wriggled again. Dammit, I wanted him to touch me, REALLY touch me. I started to beg, muffled as it was by my gag.

He teased me skillfully, only too familiar with my reactions. His fingers outlined my moistness, tracing up and down over and over, so lightly that it was maddening. I tried to push back against his hand, but he only chuckled and pulled back just the slightest bit, so I couldn't get any friction built up. And he avoided that special spot which was throbbing in anticipation. I was so aroused that I couldn't think of anything but his words, his voice, his touch, and how was I going to manage an orgasm without his cooperation?! I heard myself babbling through the silk in my mouth, making sounds as he asking me mockingly what was I trying to say - I only had to ask for what I wanted. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't, and it was making me crazy.

Until I heard voices almost directly outside the door, and we both froze for a moment. It was one thing to imagine being caught and another thing to actually BE caught. There was a knock at the door, and it was one of the cleaning crew, saying they needed to come in to take care of the room. Every muscle in my body was frozen, and I could only imagine that he was feeling the same fear as I was. And this wasn't even MY office! He called back, saying he was in a late meeting for a different time zone, and they could skip cleaning this room tonight. The entire time he didn't stop caressing my pussy ever so gently, as if to keep me on simmer.

The voice on the other side of the door assented, and said they'd do the rest of the office instead. As soon as I exhaled and relaxed, he thrust two fingers inside me and I let out a loud groan. He laughed. "You probably should try to keep it down, sweetie, unless you really want them to come in." I shook my head back and forth. I really didn't want that, but honestly, I was getting to the point that I almost didn't care. He withdrew his magical hands and I made a sound of disappointment.

I heard a noise I couldn't place, almost like a cross between a rustling sound and a whistling sound. Not from his mouth, but almost like a chair rolling across a carpet or something equally unidentifiable. And then I heard a sharp crack of noise and felt a line of fire across my ass. I moaned again, loudly. That really fucking hurt, I thought to myself. I had thought I was going to get a nice spanking and an orgasm, but apparently he had other ideas. Crack I heard the sound again a nanosecond before I felt the sharp pain on my right buttock. He ran his hand over the flame and said, "It seems a waste to not put my belt to good use, don't you agree?" And he whipped it down over my ass a half dozen times.

I reminded myself to relax. Push upward into the pain, I thought to myself. Feel the sensation, I told myself. I didn't know why I liked it, because it really hurt, but I did. He pulled my head up by my hair and kissed me again. Not being able to respond to his kiss while gagged made me feel so helpless. It made me feel like I HAD to take it at whatever speed he wanted. I always wanted more and faster; he was always one to take his time. It was torture for me, but a breathtakingly perfect torture. He pulled the gag out of my mouth and gave me a deep kiss, his tongue brushing mine, and I kissed him back, putting all of my passion into that moment. He pulled away and pulled the gag up and back into my mouth. "Good girl," he told me, "but we aren't done yet, and you know how loud you get."

He stepped away from me again, and I laid my head back down on the table, vaguely wondering what was next. I didn't have long to wait as his fingernails scraped over the sensitized flesh of my bottom. God, I loved that feeling, and it was impossible for me to lie still. I struggled again with the ropes holding me down, as I tried to push up into his touch. It didn't work; I was too closely tied down to move much, and I was frustrated. He laid the belt on my back, so I could feel it on me. It felt... soothing, in a strange way.

Without stopping the scratching, he suddenly slapped my right inner thigh hard. I heard myself yelp, and I jumped as much as someone restrained to a table could. The belt slid off my back with my movement, and he tsked at me. If I had thought my ass was burning, my breath was taken away as he slapped my left inner thigh as well. He commented, with complete nonchalance, "You must be liking it; your thighs are wet with your juices." I felt my face turn red. I couldn't help it; no matter how much I enjoyed and craved sexual attention, I was always a bit embarrassed at exactly how easily I was aroused, and how wet I really did get. I didn't know how he could maintain such control - he always seemed completely in possession of all of his faculties at all times. It was maddening, exciting, and a challenge to me. I yearned to push him just a bit TOO far and see what would happen, but no matter how I tried, I never succeeded. Or at least he never let me see that I had.

He continued slapping my thighs until they were as hot and fiery as my bottom was, and I vaguely recognized that I was going to be hurting the next day. But that was then, and right now, I just wanted... well, I just wanted. That was it. I wanted whatever he wanted to give to me, and I trusted that he would get me to where he wanted me to be. It was always hard for me to simply receive, but he had told me that was what he liked, so I tried to just enjoy each and every sensation as it was doled out to me.

He was gently rubbing my thighs the way he had been caressing my bottom, and his fingertips were trailing bliss up and down wherever they went. I sighed, feeling satisfaction just in his touch. It wasn't an orgasm, but it was fulfilling just the same. I just loved to be touched, anywhere.

I jumped when I felt the warm wetness on my thigh. It took me a moment to realize that he must have knelt between my legs, because it was his tongue and lips. He was tracing back and forth over my thighs, following the same path that his fingers had, and then lightly biting and kissing every inch of them. I wanted to scream, yell, and moan from the sensations. As it was, every sound I made was muffled, and I hoped it was muffled enough that it wouldn't escape the locked room and attract the attention of anyone on the cleaning crew. I was beyond being able to help myself. I was so aroused and felt like I was flying on an endorphin high that I hadn't felt in quite some time. I couldn't imagine what came next. It always seemed like every time I thought I could predict his actions, he would come up with something new in his repertoire.

He stopped his ministrations, and again he was at my ear. Whispering to me in between soft kisses and nibbles, he told me that my pussy was practically running like a fountain, and that it was strawberry red, and looking almost angry. And was I angry with him in any way, he asked, and I knew he was teasing me. I tried to tell him that of course I wasn't, but that I needed him, but it came out garbled and unintelligible. I was so frustrated that I couldn't ask properly for what I needed, but again, that was part of the fun. It was completely up to him as to what I needed, or at least what I would get.

Again he walked around the room, and again I wondered vaguely what would come next. I honestly didn't care. I knew that he would take care of me, or else he would leave me needy and wanting. Whichever he preferred, as it always was. Luckily for me, it usually included giving me some much-needed relief and release. I just had to reconcile myself to the fact that it was on his terms, not mine.

I heard another rustling and whistling sound that I couldn't identify, combined with a drawer opening and closing. I knew it wasn't his belt, as that was already off. I was startled by the feeling of cold metal on my hips as he cautioned me, "Don't move. I'd hate to cut you," and before I could process that comment, there was a snip, snip, and my panties were cut off. The cold air across my hot moist pink bits was a bit shocking, and I shivered and moaned.

I wasn't really thinking at this point. I was just needing. What I needed right that moment was the finger that he was trailing up and down my slit. I needed it to touch my clit. I needed it inside me. I just needed more than he was giving me. He leaned over my back again and said in my ear, ever-so-calmly, "What is it that you want, sweetie? Tell me. All you have to do is ask for it." I mumbled and made my usual gagged conversation, which was not understandable to anyone but me, and he laughed, "Oh so sad... I guess you don't want to cum, do you?" I grunted louder, determined to make him understand. I figured if I could beg nicely enough, I'd get my orgasm. Problem was, it just wasn't happening. I was beyond frustrated now.

He pulled off of me again, and his hand left my body, and I felt like my whole body slumped in disappointment. There was another crinkling and rustling, and it sounded like paper or plastic. What the hell would he be doing with paper, I thought briefly. Until I got my answer.

With my legs spread open and restrained that way, it was a simple matter for him. With one thrust, his cock slid all the way inside me. No warning, no more teasing, just a sudden and deep plunge. I screamed through the gag, and he groaned. He began to fuck me. Back and forth, long slow withdrawals, alternating with the sudden and deep thrusts. We were both panting after only a few minutes of this, and the sudden knock on the door made us both freeze in place.

"Still working," he called out, sounding only slightly out of breath. "Don't worry about the conference room tonight. Go on home," he called to the cleaning crew, and we both breathed a sigh as we heard a barely audible acknowledgement of his statement.

He resumed his methodical in and out motions, and it didn't take more than a minute or two for my arousal level to reach its previous high. I was now in a constant state of moaning. I couldn't stop myself, and I didn't want to. I felt my climax building quickly and it wasn't going to be very long before I got there. I tried to fight it off. I wanted us to cum together, so I tried clenching my pussy around him to get him there as quickly as I was.

His breathing was ragged, and I knew he was getting close. I was savoring the sensations of his motions and how with every thrust forward, he scraped across that special spot inside me. My moans were little screams at this point, and I knew I was going to be loud when it hit.

I didn't know how he knew, but he always did. This time, he managed the timing perfectly. Just as my orgasm started, he pulled the gag down, used my hair to pull my head back, and covered my lips with his. My scream was into his mouth, and as I spasmed, he froze and groaned himself. I could feel it. The throbbing along the underside of his cock as he came rhythmically pulsed against my clit, pushing me higher and higher.

We stayed like that as we rode out our pleasure. Eventually my body sagged down on the table, and he rested on top of my back. It was a wonderful feeling of complete satiation. Every muscle and fiber of my body was purring, I thought. I made a sound of disappointment as he pulled out of me and he laughed. "I can't stay there all night, you know, greedy girl," he told me.