Author's Note: Although you can enjoy the story as a stand-alone, I recommend reading the earlier chapters in order to get the context of this story.
Meaningful comments are always welcome
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The rest of the week and most of the next was nothing but a flurry of continual sexual encounters between Adrienne and myself. I had her suck me off pretty much at will: several times in the parking garage, and twice in the office bathroom, binding her hands with her stockings as I had in the restaurant. On Wednesday during lunch I at last relented and fucked her on every piece of furniture in her office. Late one night I gave her a quick pounding from behind in my own office with the door wide open, remaining mostly dressed and hoping that no one else was around. Friday morning I had her show me the park and the tree from her fantasy. I fulfilled it in every detail, fucking and licking her to a long string of orgasms until she begged me for mercy.
I was purposefully pushing the limits as hard and fast as I could, seeing if she would back down at all. She didn't. Every encounter seemed to leave her more eager than ever for my control, for more of my total domination. Her insatiable appetite and eager compliance totally blew my mind.
By the close of business Friday it was I who was at the breaking point - totally exhausted and sexually spent. Adrienne stopped by my office on her way out the door and inquired in a hushed voice about my weekend plans, giving me a wink that made it obvious that she hoping we could hook up at some point. She whispered that her husband was out of town and wondered if we could play at her place for the first time. The idea intrigued me, but I made up some lame excuse about needing to take care of some stuff around my place and told her that I'd see her Monday. The look of disappointment was obvious, but she didn't protest. Such a good and obedient submissive.
I scratched down a note and handed it to her. "Masturbate a minimum of five times before Monday morning. Each must be different than the others. Each must be reported to me immediately in your journal."
- - - - - -
Saturday night I sat down at my computer to see if she'd written any of her masturbation reports. With her husband out of town, the tireless slut had already accomplished seven orgasms, making detailed entries, as instructed, within minutes of finishing each one. One using her favorite bullet vibrator. One sitting on her back porch completely naked. One just using her fingers before going to sleep. These first three were on Friday night. Saturday brought four more orgasms by dinnertime. She got off using the massaging showerhead first thing in the morning. She came three more times that day, including once in the car in the parking lot of the grocery store. I left a few naughty and encouraging comments on some of the reports and went to get another beer from the fridge.
When I returned to the computer, I decided on a lark to read back through the entirety of her journal since we'd started this crazy little tryst. Reading the lurid reports of her self-pleasuring had made me more than a little horny, and I thought I'd just beat off while reliving some of our amazing experiences. But as I read an uncomfortable feeling began to well up inside, and the more I read the more the unsettling feeling grew over the bizarre turn my life had suddenly taken.
I had turned my boss into my personal sex slave. It was a fantasy-come-true, allowing me to realize my dominant potential as never before. I was getting all the hot, raunchy sex I could stand and more. But as I paused to look at it things somewhat pragmatically, I realized that I was completely fucking with this woman's life in a most cavalier manner. As I congratulated myself on helping her find fulfillment in embracing her true submissive nature, I had to admit that having her so completely addicted to my control without any consideration of where this would end up was completely unfair. She had obviously fallen hard for me and was pretty desperate for more than I was willing to give her.
The guilt and anguish grew as I thought of a startling analogy. It was as if I had bought and trained a puppy, getting it totally attached to me and dependent on my provision, but without any consideration as to what I was going to do when the thing grew into an adult dog. I would never do that to an animal, yet I was doing it with a human being. The thought made me deeply remorseful of the way I'd handled the whole thing.
I quickly composed an email, instructing Adrienne to meet me at the office Sunday morning. Keeping up my domination so as not to arouse her suspicion, I told her to wait for me naked at her desk.
- - - - - -
After a restless night's sleep, I had a hard time getting out of bed the next morning. When I called to tell her I was running late she was already at her desk, naked as instructed, and obviously feeling very randy.
"I'm aching for you, Sir," she cooed. "Please hurry."
"Are you wet, my little slut?" I asked.
"Yes, extremely. Listen," she said emphatically. She lowered the receiver between her legs and let me listen to her sloshing her fingers in and out of her sopping gash.
"Catch that?" she asked. "That a cunt that needs to be fucked badly, Sir. Your cunt!"
"Still in such need after seven orgasms yesterday?"
"Actually ten now, including the one last night and the two this morning, Sir, but yes still very much in need. It's going to be eleven if you don't get here soon," she giggled.
"You are my total slut, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"There will be consequences if you come any more before I'm there to watch you," I said sternly, doing my best not to tip my hand. "I'll be there soon enough."
I mulled my speech over in my mind all the way to work, and went straight to her office to deliver it so as not to loose my resolve. Was I really about to give up having a total sex slave?
When I knocked on her office door, she unlocked and opened it, greeting me naked except for her thigh-high stocking and heels.
