Under Orders

Chapter One: Ms. Stark Will See You Now

You look one more time at the email on your phone, reading the message yet again. "Come to 27 Seaview, Suite C at 8:30 sharp. Business attire. Bring a copy of your resume and references." Well, suite C, here you are. A pretty woman at the reception desk asks you to have a seat in the lobby as she calls Ms. Stark. Her desk has a name plate, Ms. Elise. You make a mental note to greet her by name when you have a chance. She has warm, café au lait skin with a splash of freckles across her face, and a beautiful mass of curly dark hair pulled into a loose braid. She also has, you can't help but notice, a generous amount of cleavage showing from under her bright white blouse.

You start playing absent-mindedly with your tie, shifting in your chair, chiding yourself for lack of control. Ms. Elise, still on the phone, looks up and smiles at you with her soft pink lips. You self consciously stop moving. You've waited weeks for this interview. You're kind of nervous. This job is an important one, and you'll do anything to get it.

You look again at the name on the door. Silver letters: Ms. Inara Stark, founder, Crescent Publishing. Unusual name. She'll be your direct supervisor. She described herself as patient and fair, but really hands-on. That could be good. When you're new, you need a little direction, a little guidance.

How much time went by? You want to look at your watch, but you don't want to seem impatient. You imagine Ms. Stark disapproving. What does she look like? You realize now you've never even talked to her on the phone, just arranged everything by email.

While you wait, you look around the reception area. It is tastefully decorated and gives you a few clues about the woman who is going to be directly over you. It's different than other offices you've been in. The walls are a dark lavender, and there are actual curtains on the windows. Deep plum colored curtains. Someone even thought to put shades over the typical industrial fluorescent lights - or replace them. What little artificial light there was in the lobby was filtered through golden mica shades. Ms Stark does not have cheap tastes.

The couch you're sitting on, it's real leather. Deep burgundy - feels like money. As you wait, you notice more and more details. The room is slightly warm, and smells faintly of rich, spicy perfume. Or incense. This is not the sort of place for reports, audits, and pie charts. What kind of business does Stark run here?

"Hello?" Ms. Elise calls to you, "Ms. Stark will see you now." She gets up from her chair and walks to the office door to let you into the inner sanctum. Your eyes follow her legs, widening as you realize she's wearing seamed stockings and a very snug skirt. Yes, it was pretty warm in here. You can't help yourself - you find yourself wondering what she is wearing at the top of those stockings. You notice just the first faint tingling of arousal and feel incredibly embarrassed. You're about to meet Ms. Stark and you're eyeing her assistant's legs? What the hell is wrong with you? Oh god, what if you start to get hard? You degenerate, you think. What are you, some horny frat boy?

You swallow hard and try to tell yourself to get a grip. She leaves you alone in the office - at least you think you're alone. You look around, expecting a desk and all the usual machinery of a business. That is not what you see. There are arm chairs, carpets, more antique-looking lamps. Bookcases. You see a few titles - Golden Mysteries: Erotic Representation in Ancient Rome, and Kink, BC: Bondage in the Prehistoric World.

"Like what you see?" A voice like the caress of a silk glove touches you. You turn around and see her on the sofa, tablet in one hand, black cigarette in another. You take a deep breath and stammer a hello to the woman you want to be working for more than anything.

Ms. Stark is luxurious, long-legged and voluptuous, like an old painting. She has pale creamy skin, a flawless complexion unburdened by heavy makeup. Her lips, though, are painted a deep maroon, curved in a smile. Her eyes are deep green, holding you still, looking over lowered glasses. Her hair is a deep, deep shade of burgundy, cut close and styled perfectly. She is complete and self-possessed, leaning back slightly. She puts her tablet down on the coffee table in front of her and spreads her arms over the back of the sofa, letting you take her in.

This is the woman you've been looking for. This is the powerhouse behind Crescent Publishing.

Her legs are crossed, which has opened the slit on her black skirt that reveals the edge of a black garter, and the tiny swell of generous flesh pinched slightly by elastic. Her shoes are black, high heels, a strap on each directing the eye to the curve from shin to instep on each foot. Your eyes travel up, around the curve of her hips, to her silk blouse, several buttons open to reveal soft, creamy cleavage. The silk fabric shines in the lamplight, clearly showing the straps and lace on her bra underneath, and each perky nipple. You're not sure you can hide your distraction any more, but you'll try.

"Hello, I'm Ms. Stark. It's nice to meet you..." She holds out a hand for you to shake, never leaving her seat. "Come here, sit beside me, and I'll go over the details for you. You know, we were very interested in your resume. Your qualifications would make you a really good fit. We're a small operation. My assistant and I work so closely together. But profits were so good this year, we decided we needed a man around the house, so to speak..."

You nod along as she talks, slowly growing intoxicated at her voice and her perfume. As beautiful as she is, her voice is what gets you. Soon, you are hanging on her every word. You need to hear more. You are taken with a sudden desire to hear her give you orders. Soon, you will have your chance...

"So that about wraps it up for the job description. Let's have a look at your resume again." You hand over your resume, fumbling your way though a reply and a weak joke. She smiles at you patiently, leaning forward to grind out her cigarette in a crystal holder on the coffee table. Will you measure up?

You start to fidget in your seat, trying to hide the all too apparent start of your hard-on. She throws a quick glance over her glasses and you immediately stop and hold still, waiting on her. She takes her time reading your resume, evaluating this summary of who you are and what you've done until now. Can you do what it takes to satisfy her? Can you do a good job?

You steal glances at her body while she reads - her relaxed and open position speaks power. She doesn't have to fold up into a corner like other women. She can be free with her body, needing nothing from anyone. Except service. A woman like this needs to be worshiped. You bite your lips, watching her arch her back slightly, thrusting her breasts outwards a little, and you think, you will do whatever it takes to please her.

Chapter Two: In need of a firm hand

"Ok, I am sufficiently impressed with your work history. You clearly know how to bring passion and dedication to your position. You've always gone the extra mile to do a good job, and, based on one or two of these more modest positions, you have the ambition necessary to serve."

"Now," she sighs, uncrossing her legs and standing up, "let's see how you fit in here. Leave your papers and follow me. She turns and walks towards a closet door. Almost completely under her spell, you have no choice but to follow her swaying hips and the click-click of her heels. Her ass is broad and round, and you can't help but imagine how it would look bare, with only those black garters over her ivory flesh...or how her skin would gleam if you rubbed it with expensive oils...and Ms. Stark turning around to look down at you on your knees, those green eyes, that voice telling you what a good boy you have been...

You're sweating now, clenching your jaw and biting you lips hard, desperate to keep control. It was no use. You would do anything she said. She had to know. She stood in the closet, more of a tiny room, her back to you, letting you stew in your own desire, staring at her perfect, voluptuous body.

"So, Mr._______, I think you are exceptionally well qualified to serve us here at Crescent. You have the drive and the humility necessary to be a proper man. This will be your office, although to be honest, you'll be spending most of your time in other positions. In the course of your training, it may be necessary to familiarize you with some of the more...intense...equipment. For the first time, you look into the smaller office.

It's not really an office. It's a small dungeon. You see structures and objects you only ever dreamed about. A big, carved St. Andrew's cross with silk ropes at the ends. A prayer bench, looking like it had just been plucked from a medieval cathedral, with gleaming manacles on it, carved with crosses and angels. Hanging on the wall were a variety of whips, floggers, and wicked looking canes. There are a pair of leather harnesses, just the right size for curvy hips, one labeled "Ms. Stark" and one labeled "Ms. Elise".

You start breathing heavy, unconsciously starting to stroke your cock through your expensive trousers. There's a small bed, carved and antique-looking. Next to it was a nightstand with a dully gleaming silver tray with variety of plugs and dildos lined up on it, and a large bottle of lube.

Ms. Stark places her hand on your back, leaning in close so you can feel her breath on your quivering skin. She whispers to you, "I see you're eager to start. You will have to learn your first lesson now, however. You will have to be patient as our office boy." She slowly brings both your wrists around to your back, brushing her breasts against you, letting her perfume coil out from her cleavage like incense. She has put on a pair of leather gloves, and you can feel the heat of her fingers beneath the hide. "Close your eyes," she breathes in your ear, and all you can feel is her breath, her nipples hard beneath her thin blouse, and her long legs pressed against yours. "Close your eyes and wait. I am going to handcuff you since you are too eager to please and must learn restraint" She pulls a pair from the wall behind and clicks the cold metal around your wrists. Keeping one gloved hand linked around your bound wrists, she takes half a step to the right, and clicks an intercom. "Ms. Elise, would you please join us? And bring a couple of water bottles, I think we'll need them."

You whimper and try to hold still, but you're on fire. This is everything you've ever wanted, to be at the mercy of two beautiful women. Anything, you'd do anything for them. You realize now that this is where your whole life has led you, this need to submit and serve.

Never taking her hand off you, Ms. Stark lets Ms. Elise in. You hear them kiss and laugh together at your predicament. "So this is the new boy, Ms. Stark?" asks Ms. Elise, setting the bottles down on a bench.

"That's right, I think he'll be handy around here."

"Well done. I admire your taste. Boy, what's your name?" Ms. Elise grabs your face and pulls you forward, roughly. You mumble through the syllables, almost ready to faint.

Ms. Stark suddenly grabs a handful of your hair and lands a stinging smack on your ass. "Speak when you're spoken to, boy." You apologize, and say your name again. "This new boy has promise, but needs a firm hand. Would you like to give him his first flogging Ms. Elise?"

"Oh yes I would. Please set him up while I choose the proper tool."

Ms. Stark whispers to you again, "Open your eyes, walk." and propels you to a high padded table with a wedge shaped pillow. She roughly unbuttons your shirt, and unbuckles your belt. She pulls your trousers open and tugs them down, with your pants, freeing your painfully sensitive cock. You watch, totally helpless, as she opens an icy cold water bottle, and drinks, never smudging her perfect lipstick. She swallows, refreshed. Then, bending down, she blows a stream of cold air over your aching cock. You start to loose control and beg them, pitifully, to let you touch yourself. Ms. Stark's only answer is to bend you over that table, nudging her knee between your thighs, until you're spread-eagled. She and Ms. Elise busy themselves tying your legs to the table until you can't move, no matter how much you squirm.

Chapter Three: Orientation

There you are, a pretty picture, your throbbing, dripping cock useless. Your hands bound behind you, your skin slick with sweat. Your ass is exposed and vulnerable, waiting whatever punishment these women see fit. You swear loyalty to them, you babble and carry on, begging them to do what they want. You turn your head and watch them watching you, embracing and stroking each other's bodies, becoming more aroused at your torment. Ms. Elise stares into your eyes as she opens the buttons on Ms. Starks' blouse, reaching in to fondle the other woman's perfect tits. Ms. Stark unzips first her skirt then Ms. Elise's, letting them fall. Both women remove their blouses as well, and let you stare in awe. They are both wearing the thinnest of lace panties, their generous flesh slightly swelling over the elastic of their panties and garters. You are faint with the smell of perfume and their wet pussies. Stark removes her glasses, closes her eyes, and bites Elise's soft neck, digging her fingers into the other woman's hips. You're silent now, absolutely transfixed.

Elise's breasts are barely contained by her bra, her nipples incredibly hard, pushing against the fabric. Stark lovingly pinches them, causing her to squeal and playfully frown at Stark. "Go on, Ms. Elise, let's see how he takes it." As Elise takes position behind you, Stark sits in a chair opposite your face, taking a small vibrator from an end table, and switching it on. "In your own time..."

"My pleasure," purrs Elise. "Boy, your safeword is 'house' You are to ask for more if you want more, and tell me 'house' when you reach your limit. Get ready!" Elise twirls her flogger, letting you hear it whirl, and lands an experimental blow on your ass. You shudder and moan as the sensation rockets through you. You have forgotten about your cock - almost - instead focusing on the delicious burning on your ass. You beg for more, saying whatever Elise and Stark tell you.

They say to beg for it - you beg for your punishment.

They say to call yourself names, "slut" and "whore" - you call yourself a slut and a whore.

They say to describe how it feels - you tell them it feels so good to be punished and you need it.

You watch Stark rubbing her pussy harder as she watches, close to coming herself. Her body jerks as the start of her orgasm shudders through her, making her tits bounce slightly, and a flush spread out over her skin. She digs her nails into the armrests, watching you be beaten over and over, your cock dripping pre-come onto the floor. She comes beautifully, inhaling through her teeth and groaning softly.

Elise inhales sharply, and says "Enough!" She drops the whip, leaving you splayed on the table, burning and dripping, trying to hump the pillow you're bent over for relief. It just barely works. You stop, learning to be a good boy, and ask them if you can come.

Stark pants, accepting, and tells you to make yourself come if you can. Elise climbs onto Stark's lap, her back to you so you can see her round, perfect ass. She takes the first vibrator and replaces it with a larger one, positioning it between their pussies. Stark kisses her deeply and switches the vibe onto the lowest setting. You have to watch, bound, burning, barely able to reach the pillow to hump pathetically as these two goddesses writhe around the vibrator. You are so close, you are losing your mind.

Elise is graceful, rubbing her gleaming body against Stark's. They take their time, ignoring you. Elise grabs the last icy cold bottle of water and opens it, drizzling it down her body, over her tits, and onto Stark's as they grind deeply on the buzzing toy. This does it - you cannot wait any more. You thrust as hard as you can in your bonds, coming slowly and deeply as you watch Stark tear at Elise's bra and set her tits free, smacking them, pinching her nipples roughly. Just as you finish, coming harder than you have ever done, Elise starts to come herself with a long wail, digging her nails like claws into Stark's shoulders, throwing her head back, water droplets hitting you in your exhaustion.