The Taming

It was 5:30 Thursday afternoon when Roger Hancock walked into Megan Bishop's office.

"Yes, Roger?" she said to her 28 year-old mailroom clerk, not even looking up from her work. "I thought you'd left for the day."

Miss Bishop had everything a woman could want -- money, power, good looks, great figure. She was president of The Bishop Company, doing what was generally perceived as a stellar job running the business she'd inherited from her father. She was well respected by her peers and envied by everyone else. By everyone, that is, except her employees, by whom she was universally loathed.

Irritated at the interruption, she finally looked up from her desk. "Out with it, Roger. I haven't got all day."

Roger tossed a 9 inch by 12 inch brown envelope onto his boss's desk and took a seat in the chair facing her large mahogany desk. He said nothing.

"I see we've got an attitude this afternoon," she said as she grabbed the envelope, growing rapidly more irritated with each passing moment. She opened it, spilling its contents -- two pieces of paper and a CD -- onto her desk. She picked up the first piece of paper and started reading.

It took about ten seconds for the look on her face to turn from irritation to shock, and another few seconds to turn from shock to fear. She set the first paper down and picked up the second. Thirty seconds later she set that one down, rose from her chair and closed and locked her office door.

When she sat down, her hands were shaking. Her voice cracked slightly when she spoke. "Just what is it you want, Roger?"

"First of all, I just want to make sure you completely understand the situation. Everything in your envelope is a copy of what I've already sent to my attorney. The first paper is a letter instructing my attorney to turn a sealed envelope containing the second paper and the CD over to the authorities in the event anything happens to me. The second paper is an overview of the facts. The CD, as you no doubt guessed, contains the proof.

"Any questions so far?"

Miss Bishop shook her head. "No," she whispered.

"You do know that you could spend several years in prison for this, don't you, Miss Bishop?"

Megan Bishop nodded her head. "Yes," she said weakly.

Roger rose to his feet, circling the large desk. He stopped behind his boss's chair, resting his hands on her shoulders. He could feel her tense up, but she made no move to stop him.

"But I'll bet you never thought it would happen, did you?

"No," she whispered.

He removed his hands from her shoulder, eased around her chair and sat down on the edge of the desk, his left leg resting against the arm of her chair.

"Now, for what I want. In a nutshell, Miss Bishop, I intend to own you like a master owns a slave. If I feel like humiliating you, I will. If you're bad, I'll punish you. In fact, I'll probably punish you if you're not bad, just because I can.

"The bottom line is you now belong to me. I can and will do whatever I please with you."

He paused for a moment. "The funny thing is, my initial instinct after discovering your little secret was to just overlook it. And if you weren't such a bitch to all your employees, that's probably what I would have done. But the fact is, you are a bitch, and for that, you're going to pay -- one way or another."

She looked into his eyes, her fear quite evident. But from somewhere, she found the resolve to make a stand.

"Mr. Hancock," she said in a firm voice as she rose to her feet. "This is a cute little game, but it's over. Now if you don't mind, I'll thank you to get out of my office. And while you're at it, clear out your desk. You won't be working here any longer."

"Have it your way," he smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. "I'll just make a quick phone call first, though."

"What are you doing?" she challenged, her voice lacking the firmness it had possessed only a moment earlier.

He dialed a few numbers. "Just calling my attorney," he smiled. "Did I tell you he's my cousin?"

A look of panic covered her face. "Wait. Don't do that." She reached for the hand that held the phone. "You win. I'll do whatever you say."

"Bernie," he said into the phone, brushing her hand away as he rose to her feet. "This is Roger. Can you hold on for just a second?"

He turned to Miss Bishop, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. "Anything?"

She nodded her head quickly. "Anything!"

"Okay," he said, nodding his head. "Listen Bernie, I'm sorry to bother you, but I've just solved my problem." He hesitated as his cousin said something, then laughed lightly. "Okay, you got it. I'll call you later," he said before before ending the call.

He looked at his boss, examining his new toy closely. She was an attractive woman of 35 years with wavy blonde hair that flowed just to her shoulders. She was slightly above average in height, sporting a figure that most women 10 years her junior would die for. She was dressed today in khaki slacks and a brown sleeveless sweater. The jacket that went with the outfit was hanging on the back of the door.

"First of all, from now on you are to call me sir. Understand?"

Megan nodded her head. "Yes."

"What did you say?" Roger shot back threateningly.

"I mean yes, sir. I understand," she corrected hastily.

"That's better," he smiled. "Now, we'll begin our new relationship with a spanking."

"What?" she gasped, taking a step back. "There's no way that's going to happen."

Even as she spoke, however, she knew her protest was in vain. That knowledge was born out when Roger once again reached for his cell phone.

"Okay," she said immediately. "You win." But when Roger cocked his head inquiringly, still holding the phone, she added a hasty "sir."

Roger nodded his approval, finally putting the phone away. "Slide your pants and panties down to your knees and put your elbows on the desk," he said, clearly enjoying the game.

Megan stepped back with a gasp, bumping into her credenza. "But ..." she started to say. She never finished her thought, knowing from the look in her subordinate's eyes that any protest would be futile. Still, she made no move to comply.

Roger shook his head slowly, stepping in front of her. He moved his hands to the front of her slacks. "If you'd prefer, I can do it for you."

"No, sir," she replied, moving her hands quickly to replace his. And then, finally realizing that there was no way out of her predicament, she began undoing her belt.

Roger stepped back, watching as the belt was undone, the button released and the zipper lowered. He then heard Miss Bishop take a deep breath as she began pushing down the pants, revealing a lacy pair of panties in the process.

Once the pants were around her knees she straightened up, looking into Roger's eyes, hoping against hope that the pants would be sufficient and that she'd be allowed to keep her panties. The next words from his mouth destroyed that hope.

"The panties, Miss Bishop."

There was another deep breath before she bent over, pushing the panties down to her knees.

"Very good, Megan -- I can call you Megan, can't I," Roger said, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Okay then, Megan, elbows on the desk. Hurry up, now. I haven't got all day."

Before Miss Bishop could put her elbows on the desk, it was necessary for her to cover five feet of open floor. With her pants bunched up around her knees, she made quite a sight, but finally, she was in position.

Roger stepped behind his new slave, examining her. "You have a very nice ass, Megan, and a beautiful pussy. I think I'm really going to enjoy this."

He stepped forward and placed his hand on her buttocks, smirking as she jumped at his touch. "I might caution you against screaming out, Megan. I'm pretty sure everyone has left by now, but it might prove embarrassing for you if I'm wrong and someone happens to hear you. If you'd like, I'd be happy to gag you."

She shook her head jerkily. "That won't be necessary. Just get on with it!" Another hesitation. "Sir."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The blows came suddenly. They were firm enough to stun her -- even eliciting a yelp despite Roger's warning -- but not so hard that they could really hurt. The real damage was the embarrassment, the humiliation of being treated so by a mere mailroom clerk.

'You'll pay for this,' she screamed silently. 'Oh, how you'll pay.' But even as those thoughts were running through her mind, she realized the threats were empty and without substance. 'Damn you, Roger Hancock.'

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

In all he spanked her twenty times. When it was over he allowed his hand to remain on her ass, lightly rubbing first one cheek, then the other, all the while running the fingers of his other hand through her hair. He smiled, knowing the anger and humiliation she was feeling, reveling in his new-found control.

He finally allowed her to pull her pants back up, before motioning her to her chair.

"I'd rather stand, sir," she said tersely.

"Have it your way," he smiled, turning and heading for the door.

* * * TWO * * *

Megan Bishop nearly wrecked her $80,000 Mercedes twice before finally making it to the 4,500 square foot extravagance she called home. She paced through the empty halls of the large abode, desperately trying to come up with a way out of her predicament. At the end of the night, however, she ended up headed for bed with no earthly idea what to do.

She slept miserably, waking several times during the night in a heavy sweat. All she could think about was Roger Hancock and how he'd humiliated and degraded her. Nothing she did could purge his words from her head -- 'I intend to own you like a master owns a slave.' The thought sent shivers down her spine.

Morning, much to her disappointment, finally arrived. She decided against the idea of not going to work for two reasons. First, she had two important meetings that day, one early, one late. Second, and most importantly, it was a matter of pride. There was no way in hell she was going to let that bastard think he'd gotten to her as much as, in truth, he had.

* * *

Her morning meeting ended at 11:00 AM. When she returned to her office, the mail was already neatly piled on the corner of her credenza, just like it always was. She sat down, picked up the pile and began sorting through it, stopping when she came to the plain white envelope with the words 'Megan Bishop -- PRIVATE' written across the front.

She took a deep breath. It was from him, it had to be. She nervously ripped the envelope open and pulled out the single white piece of paper it contained. Its message was brief -- 'This afternoon. Same time, same place.'

She stared at the paper for a full fifteen seconds, letting out a big sigh as she turned and put the note in the paper shredder. She then rose to her feet and left the office, telling Lauren Duggan, her administrative assistant, that she was taking an early lunch and wouldn't return until after her afternoon meeting.

* * *

It was nearly 5:45 when Roger finally arrived, entering her office without knocking, closing the door and moving to the front of her desk.

"Come here," he said simply.

Megan stared at him for a second before rising from her chair. She circled the desk without a word, coming to a stop in front of him.

Roger smiled, nodding his head slowly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'll let it go this time," he said, referring to her silent obedience when 'yes, sir' was the expected response. "But in the future, you'll either show me the proper respect or you'll be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she responded curtly.

"Good. Now then, go ahead and lower your pants and panties for me."

She shot him an angry glare. "You said you'd let it go this time." But as soon as she said it, she regretted it. He'd gotten to her again, and she'd let it show.

He laughed lightly. "I'm not going to punish you. I simply want to get another look at the pretty little ass of yours. Now get going before I change my mind -- about the punishment, that is."

To Megan, having to bare her ass for no reason other than his wanting to look at it was worse than a spanking. It was a statement of absolute control. It was his way of saying that he could and would do anything he wanted to her, and she was powerless to stop him. There was a renewed fire in her eyes as she pushed the pants and panties down to her knees as ordered.

"Good," Roger said. "Now, bend over, elbows on the table -- just like yesterday."

She turned to the desk, bending over as instructed, angry at herself for letting him get to her again. And then she waited.

She heard him sliding one of her side chairs into position directly behind her ass before sitting down, giving him what she was certain was a beautifully unobstructed view of her pussy. She bit down on her lower lip. 'Don't let him get to you like this,' she screamed silently. 'You're better than he is!'

But he was getting to her. He was toying with her and she was letting it bother her. And that, she knew, was exactly what he wanted.

She was shaken from her self-criticism by the touch of his hand on her buttocks, rubbing gentle little circles on first one cheek, then the other. And then she gasped, lifting herself from the table as his finger slid into her pussy.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Anything I want," he replied smugly. "Now get back in position before you really piss me off."

"Damn you," she whispered in a voice she knew he could hear. But she reassumed the position as ordered. A moment later a second finger joined the first finger in her pussy. A moment after that they were sliding in and out in unison.

"Damn you," she whispered again, more determined than ever not to let him get to her.

Roger sat patiently for several minutes, sliding his fingers in and out, working her pussy with practiced experience. Occasionally he'd reach out with his free hand and rub it over her cheeks, even slapping it playfully on one occasion. He couldn't be certain, but at one point he thought he heard her sigh softly. He knew for a fact that he'd felt a shudder shoot through her body.

His fingers were still sliding in and out of her when he finally spoke. "I'll expect you at my house tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 PM."

"Yes, sir," Megan said, taking a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check. "Where do you live?"

"My address is in the employee database," he said curtly. "You're to wear a tee-shirt with no bra."

He then withdrew his fingers, rose from his seat and started for the door. A moment later he was gone, and she was still bent over the desk with her pants around her knees.

"Damn you, Roger Hancock," she said as she pushed herself up from the desk.

* * * THREE * * *

She had another fitful night, dreaming of all the things he'd do to her. In the dream, she saw him spanking her mercilessly until she begged him to stop, promising him anything -- everything -- if only he'd stop. He stopped, okay, but not before taking from her everything that a man could take.

She woke from the dream in a cold sweat, sitting up abruptly in her bed as she struggled for air. "God damn you, Roger Hancock," she spat. "God damn you to hell!"

* * *

She knocked on the front door of Roger's small house at 2:55 PM the next afternoon. It took him nearly a minute to answer. When he did he smiled at her, gesturing for her to enter. "Come on in, Megan. I'm so glad you could make it."

'Like I had a choice, you son of a bitch,' she thought. But she said nothing.

Once they were in the foyer, he stopped, looking her over. "There's just something incredibly sexy about a nicely proportioned woman going braless in a tee-shirt, don't you think?"

"I've never thought about it, sir," she replied shortly.

He smiled, laughing just a bit, before pointing to the basement stairs. "We'll be in the basement today. You can go on down, Lauren's waiting for you. I'll be down in a bit."

The name Lauren caught Megan's ears instantly, sending chills down her spine. "Lauren?"

"Lauren Duggan," Roger said, referring to Megan's administrative assistant. "She'll be joining us today." He paused, giving her time to absorb the new information before taking her by the shoulders and turning her towards the stairs. "Now downstairs."

Megan took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm her nerves. She had imagined all sorts of things that Roger could, and probably would, do to her. But she'd never imagined another woman -- especially Lauren Duggan. And quite frankly, the prospect terrified her. After all, as Megan's administrative assistant, she was the person who took the brunt of her considerable temper. Given the opportunity, she had no doubt the young woman would be more than happy to exact some revenge

She started down the stairs, more nervous than ever about what lay ahead.

* * *

Megan reached the bottom of the stairs to find Lauren waiting for her, leaning against the wall in a white satin robe that barely covered her ass. It was quite apparent that the robe was the only thing she had on.

The two women quietly looked each other over for a moment. When Lauren finally spoke, there was a smile on her face and an unexpected warmth in her voice. "Come with me," she said, reaching out her hand.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just wait here for Roger," Megan replied nervously.

Lauren just shook her head, motioning with her fingers for her to come. "If you're not in position when Master gets downstairs, we'll both be in trouble. Now come with me."

"Master?" Megan asked.

"Yes," Lauren replied. "He's my master, also."

"Also?" Megan retorted. "He may be your master, but he's certainly not mine."

Lauren reached out her hand, squeezing her boss's arm tenderly. "Then why are you here?" she said simply.

Megan opened her mouth to reply before stopping short. The simple truth was, no matter how she tried to delude herself, Lauren was right -- Roger Hancock was now her master. No other description of their relationship covered it quite as simply and succinctly as that.

She stared at Lauren for several long seconds before finally speaking. "Lead the way."

The room they entered was about fifteen feet wide by twenty feet long. It had the look of a once unfinished basement some Harry Homeowner had personally finished -- wood paneling on the walls, a drop ceiling divided by three six-by-six beams and thick beige carpeting. The furnishings consisted of a sofa coming off one wall, two wing chairs, a television set and a couple of end tables.

But it was the wrist cuffs attached to two separate ropes hanging down from the far beam that caused Megan Bishop to stop short.

"You're not putting me in those," she gasped, her eyes glued to the cuffs.

Lauren sighed. "Remember Thursday afternoon when Master first confronted you?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, her eyes still locked on the dangling cuffs.

"Remember how you stood defiantly against him, only to end up doing exactly what he demanded?

Megan turned towards Lauren before nodding her head slowly. "I remember."

"This is the same thing," she said. "You will either let me place you in the cuffs, or you will face his consequences." She hesitated, giving her boss time to think. "It's up to you, but if I were in your place, I wouldn't give him any more incentive than he already has."

Megan stared at her administrative assistant, finally nodding her head. "Okay," she said weakly, turning towards the cuffs.

There were two wrist cuffs, each one attached to a rope that descended from the ceiling through a large eye-bolt located a few feet from the wall. The ropes then each ran along the beam to the wall, through another eye-bolt and down to a pair of spikes where they were tied off, with the excess rope curled up on the floor.