The Late Slave

It was nearing 9pm, and yet her boss would not let her go. 4 years of college, 13 months of training, and two years experience, left the 25-year-old Roxanne yearning for released from what she would call a prison. To everyone else, it was her career, Financial Analyst for a small Wall Street firm; moving and shaking up the hundreds of thousands of dollars that went in and out of her company's hands when their stock fluctuated half a point. Roxanne was even good at her job, being able to see the small details that allowed her the edge in her department.

Nevertheless, this was not her goal in life. The thin black choker around her neck was itching slightly, and with each nuisance and every tick of the clock, her pussy moistened to when this meeting would be over. Her boss continued to comment on how last quarter's losses were barely manageable, and he continued to spew what she knew as mindless dribble to make himself seem important. She could not hear him anymore. Roxanne was squeezing her thighs together to give herself some release from the tension mounting in her angst.

"He's going to be furious..."

"What was that Roxanne?" her boss lamented across the room as someone finally broke the pace of his unrefined drool, spewing forth across the boardroom.

"Our clients, are going to be FURIOUS, that we lost that money in last quarter and we are going to have to pick up the pace to make it back to them, right guys." She spoke up quickly, lying through her teeth at the only thing he knew he wanted to hear, her coworkers admit to his wrongdoing. Everyone agreed swiftly with her to let their boss know that they 'fully accepted' their responsibility for his poor choices.

"Exactly right, Roxx... if you all hadn't screwed up the accounts we wouldn't be at a deficit coming into this new quarter..." he drowned back off as if moving away from everyone else to hear himself speak. All the other analysts in the room knew that it was not their fault the country was in recession and that a single bad choice would result in the loss of thousands. Nor did they really think it was their fault that all the accounts were diversified into their bosses' nepotonic attempts at making his brother's company richer. Roxanne did not care about that, and she even dismissed her boss's insult at calling her Roxx. She was simply worried for her true profession and the consequences she would experience from being late, again.

Roxanne's breasts pressed tightly against the white fabric of her blouse as she took a deep breath and looked at the clock again. Her business attire was form fitting, her form was beautiful. An expression of well-maintained fitness throughout the years, her body, considered by the few who saw it outside of her normal attire, to be beautiful. She hid her firm 34c breasts beneath her tight bras and her flat abs beneath the many folds of her sweaters and blazers. Her legs she used to her advantage, showing off their toned maintained poise, just enough to break the attention of her bosses and clients. However, despite all this, it was her hazel eyes she kept hidden behind a pair of reading glasses and a "misplaced" set of bangs that often had brought the most eloquent of men into a stammering slip of the tongue.

Finally, her boss was coming to his closing statements that remarkably sounded like 'I am so great, Worship your fearless leader' but Roxanne could only hear the seconds tick off her Fossil watch. Her thoughts raced to where she longed to be, and the man she would be disappointing if she did not get there soon. Beneath the well-crafted exterior, beneath the beautiful fit body she possessed, lay the heart of a true submissive. In her college years, she discovered it, and shortly thereafter gave it to the man whom brought it out of her. A man she now only referred to as Master. Roxanne was always careful to make sure she kept her conversations with him on the phone carefully hidden from her co-workers, and she always made sure to refer to him by the title he deserved.

"...And that concludes this Quarter's meeting in review. Roxanne, can I see you for a moment..." DAMN, she cursed herself, she was going to be later that she already was, and could not take the time to phone her Dominant of the situation. As she quickly gathered her portfolio and walked over to her boss's office, rage and fear began to fill up her steps, as the 4 inch stiletto heels drove themselves against the carpeted floor, giving off the faintest tap with each of her frustrated steps. She remembered her master's protocol and exhaled before entering the office, she did not want to get in trouble for losing her temper, on top of being late.

"Roxanne, last week you said you were going to call me, so we could go over those...ahem...figures over dinner, what happened?"

"Sir, I was able to determine the issue myself, I felt there was no need..."

"But I still expected a call and meal with one of my best workers. You always rush in and out of work; it's so hard to get to know you."

"Ahhh, well sir, I'm a very private person, and I really need to be going now anyway..."

"Boyfriend waiting for you, I guess. You know if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I could get you that promotion..."

"Look at the time... I've really got to go sir, e-mail me the rest ok?" With that Roxanne left the office, she hated her boss, the advances he made, and every time she blew him off, he would only come back stronger. It did not help that this time he was trying to impress her by pushing out his groin with every end of a sentence. She did not care to think about his four-inch member, as the rumors flew. She was only concerned now with the only real thing that mattered in her life. Her pussy was soaked at the thought of seeing him again, and her heart was heavy with potentially disappointing him once more. He was the only thing on her mind now. Her master was waiting.

Across town, Tom waited patiently beneath the awning of a flower booth. The closed door to his apartment had sat for quite some time and Tom was soon becoming impatient. His black jeans were only damp by the ankles and his black button down shirt hid his rounded paunch of a stomach well, with his black blazer. Tom was not concerned about the soft rain that bounced at his heels; he was worried about the woman who was supposed to be meeting him there. The flower vendor, from whom he had just bought the two roses grasped in his hand even commented, "Don't worry mate, she'll be here."

It was unlike her to leave him waiting without as much as a phone call, he knew her job was important, and he gave her as many liberties as he could for her to have a career. Tom made sure he had the time right, as he looked over his PDA, "7pm Meet with Roxanne." No, it could not have been wrong. He thought to himself with all that was going on she was just late, late from work, late because of traffic, just...late.

Tom scratched his dark hair, and tried to ease his worry that something had happened to her. It was very uncustomary for Roxanne, a woman who had been punctual since their meeting back in college, to be late without a phone call. He tried to calm his nerves, but as the fabric of his jeans pulled a little tighter over his thick thighs in sitting down, he wondered where it was she could be.

"Get off the road you maniac!" the Yellow Cab driver called out the window as the woman in Green Saturn cut him off, swerving back and forth through traffic. It was true. Roxanne had been driving like a maniac. Her heart pounding, her foot on the gas the entire time, she tried to make herself ready for her Master, waiting patiently across town. Her cunt was aching more and more with every block, she passed getting closer to him, her heart sank every time she hit a red light. She was already forty minutes late, and she knew she was in trouble now.

Pulling out her ponytail and pulling open the first three buttons of her blouse all she could think of was the punishments she would have tonight. They had been building in her mind since she realized her phone charger was at the apartment, and her cell phone had died at lunch. The whippings, the paddle, maybe even the cane tonight; all were possibilities. How could she be so stupid, was going disappoint him again, and she knew she could not do that. He driving even caused the sleeping cop on 5th street to snort twice before he slid his cock back into the girl of his dreams.

Tom started to pace about the flower stand, but the old Chinese man he called Wang said nothing. Wang tried desperately not to smile as he watched the young man of his late twenties worry himself needlessly for his woman. The old Chinese man remembered how he used to worry needlessly about his since deceased wife, and it swelled up pride within him to see another man whom was nearly a third his age to be doing the same. Maybe there was hope in the world for today's youth.

Stepping back and forth, Tom tried her phone again, and the answering machine reminded him of how sweet the soft tones of her sultry voice were to his ear. He looked up at the rain, and as the thought of what may have happened to her crossed his mind, again he turned to head to his car. As she came around the corner and wrapped her arms around him, her voice showed she was on the verge of tears. Roxanne, being out of breath and carrying her heels after running though the rain in only her leggings, let him know she had been trying to get to him as fast as she could.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry Master." Her voice was barely audible even to him, but as she clung to him under the awning, protected from the pouring cool rain of the fall months, they both felt their worries ease little by little. To her, she was finally able to be with him, her protector, her guide, her owner. To him, he was just relieved that nothing had happened to her.

She explained the situation to him, and he wiped her tears away bringing her up into the apartment, with his jacket wrapped around her. Tom's strong arms held her close to him, as he brought her up to the cool wooden floor of his spacious studio apartment. Tom calmed her down, soothing her worries as he showed her that his primary worry was not when she got there but that she got there at all. Tom smiled at her as she looked up at him "...yes Master..." was all she said when he spoke, feeling her fears melt away.

"When you are ready, Go get changed, but don't rush, I've got nothing but time tonight, and you look like you had a pretty hard day, slave."

Roxanne always felt a sense of pride when he called her slave. She wished her master would call her that any time he spoke to her. It was, however, the rules; and the rules stated only in private conversations. Tom could never figure out if it was that the world was not ready for the truth of their relationship to be public, or if it was for them to be ready for the public's opinion. Either way it was best to keep their true relationship in private. What did it matter to the rest of the world that she willingly wished to be his property? To anyone else, Roxanne and Tom had a normal loving relationship.

Roxanne got up and made her way to the bedroom. She was better now, her pulse had slowed, the rush of trying to make every second count earlier had subsided, and she remembered why she had rushed home in the first place. As she slipped out of her "prison" uniform she smiled and gazed upon the clothes she would confine herself to for the rest of the night. A high French cut black g-string, a pair of leather and steel wrist shackles, and matching pair for her ankles. With all that on her pride swelled as she gazed at the part she wished she could wear every hour of every day; her collar.

It had taken Roxanne over eighteen months to earn her Master's collar. Long days and nights of proving her desire to be his property. Endless tasks that had stripped her (gladly she would add) of any inhibitions to his desires, just to prove to him that she was serious about their lifestyle choice. Caressing her heavy breasts as she gazed over the oak box that held her collar, she recalled the seemingly infinite whippings, spankings, hours on her knees, days without contact, and the other torturous existence she had to go though simply to prove to him that she was serious.

Lifting the lid, she revealed the purple velvet lining of the case and her delicate cunt tightened and soaked her g-string as she enjoyed the memories. Every time she put the collar on she recounted every event leading up to that moment, when she first got it. How though her deep and difficult training she became the person she wished to be. She was stronger now, stronger than she ever would have been had she never decided to become his slave. The training had unlocked something within her, a confidence deeply rooted in her ability to submit. She had no regrets.

The interlaced metal circles that made her choker were custom designed to Tom's specifications. Rings large and small joined around each other forming a complex pattern of chains. Though made of steel, the rings were arranged in such a way to be just heavy enough to remind the wearer that it was there. Roxanne found it impossible to forget she was wearing the collar despite the thousands of orgasms that she had experienced with it on. Something about it pinched, just lightly every time she moved, where another part caressed her skin softly and cooled a previous pinch. The collar made her feel complete, and she could not count the number of times she woke up wearing it in the morning, cursing the fact that she had to take it off.

"Your slave is almost ready Master... would it please you for your slave to come out to you?"

"Yes, I'm in the study, slave."

"Yes Master." She excitedly engaged the clasp on the collar and got down on her knees. Just as she was about to crawl out to the source of her excitement, she gave herself one last look in the floor length mirror. Her long dark hair was tied in a tight ponytail that hung just over her fit back, her breasts, firm and taut, exposed and her nipples hard from the slight chill of the steel around her neck. Her shapely legs bent at the knee making her subservient, while she made sure the g-string was up high on her hipbones exposing as much of her leg as possible. The wetness of her pussy had already soaked and tightly wrapped the fabric over her sex, making her firm lips push out through the thin material. Her cuffs were securely in place, ready to support her entire weight if her master so decided. She was ready for him; she was ready to serve him.

As she crawled her thighs squeezed her already soaked cunt together a little more, each movement sending waves though her as she crawled though the corridor, down the stairs and into the study. There she took a brief glance to see where her Master was, quickly averted her eyes and continued her crawl to him, making sure her ass was high in the air for his pleasure.

Tom never looked down but knew that she had come into the room. He was always happy to see her, and always cherished the ultimate gift she gave him, her submission. Even as she languidly crawled across the floor, he smiled. It was not to be confused, his enjoyment of her actions and thoughts, they were not for his own needs. In fact, Tom, before he had met Roxanne, would have been very happy alone for the rest of his days. No, Tom's meeting of her some years earlier in college had changed even him. It made him happiest to see her doing exactly what it is she wanted to do and being the best she possibly can at it. She wanted to become his, and when she gave that to him, he became hers.

Tom closed the book as Roxanne laid her head on his thigh and awaited orders. He looked down at her and pet the long dark hair pulled back to expose her face and smiled. She spoke first, expressing her happiness to be by his side once more with her eyes, "How may slave serve you, Master?"

"First order of business, slave, are your chores. Have you completed them all?"

"Yes Master, slave wore her public collar at work today. She wore a skirt with a blue thong, but since slave only has one clean g-string, which she wanted to please master with it. slave made sure to shave her sex this morning in the shower, after her hour of morning exercise. slave also made sure to pleasure herself but not orgasm during her lunch break. slave is deeply sorry that she was late in getting home; she has no excuse for it. Has slave forgotten anything Master?"

"Yes you did..."

Roxanne's heart sank, she had expected to be punished for being late, but Tom would never say she forgot something if during her daily report at his side she spoke about it. She quickly tried to review her list of chores, something was missing but finally she gave into it and looked into her Master's eyes longingly to know the nature of her transgression.

"You forgot to text me as to what you thought about during your masturbation slave." Roxanne and tom both knew that she had not done so because her phone was dead at that point, and this was actually Tom's way of having her remember to keep her phone well charged. "That's another point, slave."

"slave has been very naughty Sir. Would it please Master for slave to be punished now?"

"Yes, it would, how many points have you accrued since your last punishment"

"Eleven, Master. Five points for not completing the subway task, another three for losing my temper with my co-worker, two more points for two days of not performing one hour for mental self improvement, and now one point for not sending you a text message after my masturbation."

"Very good memory slave, I will forgive you one point as a reward for keeping such good track. Now stand up and present my ass and my sex."

"As it pleases you Master." Roxanne was elated and nervous at the same time. She stood up and took her position on the far side of the desk. She delicately placed her breasts on the cool mahogany desk her Master used for his normal job. By day, he was a general contractor for a small construction firm located in town, but it simply paid the bills for him. He walked over to a set of locked cabinets and took his time opening them.

Roxanne had pressed her tits into the wood first, and slowly spread her ample breasts out on the surface, her hands spread wide and her firm ass pressed skyward. Her daily stretches insured that the muscles in her legs would easily allow her to keep her legs straight, and her sexual juices had formed a scintillating bead, that caressed her powerful thighs, shapely knees, and chiseled calves as it stopped in her ankle shackle. She wanted to please him so badly, but when you are naughty, you must be punished, she thought to herself repeatedly, letting a small smile escape her lips as she laid her head down on the desk.

Tom, still dressed in his blue polo shirt and khaki pants, picked out a riding crop from the case of toys. He had a number of "weapons" at his disposal. A bullwhip he specifically learned to use for her sake, a few floggers, a number of flexible and heavy paddles, and a few riding crops that she really liked. He knew each one inside and out and just how to hurt and please his slave with every little movement of his wrist, arm, waist and legs. To her; he was an expert. To him; it was simply what he needed to do.

"10 lashes slave..." She quivered at the thought, and had unknowingly let her pussy gush once more. As the bead ran down her opposite leg, each step he took closer to her seemed to stop the bead in its tracks. A finger lingering down her lonesome existence bent over his desk, waiting for his will. She did not know how she would be punished, nor did she care how forceful he was or soft. She was preparing herself for the responses that she would use to re-affirm her submissiveness to his will. She knew her transgressions were not that of betrayal to him, but to herself and her decision, "Count them properly."