An Office Slave

[This is a story of self-discovery between a husband and wife who claim they love each other, but must test the limits of their love. We do not condone rape or violence in marriage or anywhere. This is simply a fantasy.]

*****

Friday was the last business day before the big conference. I threw myself to the final tasks of my job as Coordinator of all presentations. I required everyone who was to present a report to come to the 8th Floor conference room and rehearse in front of me using the slides they were to use. Even the eminent Professor John Adler was not exempt. And he came willingly and insisted on inserting a few battery jokes into his speech.

What did the 3A battery say to the 2A battery? What happens if you put the batteries the wrong way into the rabbit? Those sorts of jokes. He had me laughing the whole time.

'I'm just stirring you, Nina,' he laughed with me. 'Of course I wouldn't say that.'

I briefed the Three Musketeers - Sam, Eve, and Meredith - and coached them as they practiced their speeches, threw them questions that might be thrown at them by the investors, and finally assured them they were ready as they could be.

Of Hardy I saw very little. Oh, he came into my temporary domain when I was reviewing some notes about an hour after I arrived. But he said not one word. He closed the door and stood there, watching me. I simply did not know what to say. I could not look up at him either, blinded as I was not by the year-to-year production output chart in front of me, but with images of Richard above me, behind me, all around me, his face and body held captive by the force of his passion.

It felt like he sucked all the air out of the office just by being there at my door.

After what would have been three minutes of his silent watching and my silent ignoring, he left my office, and all I had were glimpses of him the rest of the day, as he went from meeting to meeting drawing out perfection from everyone. It seemed we both had words for everyone else except for each other.

If anybody would have described me that day, they would have said, Why, Neen was her usual self, so perfect and calm. Neen has always been perfect, hasn't she?

They wouldn't have known I was feeling as brittle as a dry leaf at the end of autumn, about to fracture into different parts. My encounters with Richard were breaking me apart, dredging up whole new measures of me I could not recognize. Were these bits of me real? Had they been inside of me all this time? Or were they new branches that sprouted in response to Richard's darkness?

And what about Victor? What did Victor make me? How would Hardy judge me when I reveal Victor to him? The thought had me perspiring in my white silk blouse.

I left at five o'clock, deciding I was no longer needed. Hardy had developed Hunter Innovations in the past few years into a well-oiled machine which efficiently ran itself. Of course, as long as Hardy was around. I said goodbye to everyone in my gracious way. I hugged some of them and told them the conference was going to be perfect because of each of them.

I went into Hardy's Level 8 office and stopped short. He was in the middle of the room with Carly Stevenson, assistant of the Professor.

They were standing side by side, making a stunning picture as they looked at some brochures together. Her upper arm, glowingly bare in a sleeveless pink shirt, grazed his blue striped tie. Hardy looked up as I walked in, and he pulled away from Carly with a small tight smile for me.

'Neen,' he murmured. And to Carly, 'Thanks for showing me all these, Carly. Would you excuse us for a minute?'

'Of course, Mr Hunt.' And she came to me and said, 'It's lovely to see you at work, Nina. I look forward to seeing you at the conference.' I smiled at her, and murmured something I could not remember, and we bussed each other's cheek.

I closed the door behind her, and turned to look at him. He was leaning at the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

I had come to tell him I missed him and ask him to please come home. But the sight of Carly's bare arm against Hardy's chest had thrown me off balance.

'I didn't know she was here.' I said stupidly. I had not seen her all day.

'Like you, she was holed up making sure John's presentation was perfect.'

'Where?'

'Where what?' Hardy asked.

'Where was she holed up in?' I asked. I had been to all the offices and cubicles throughout the day, and never saw her, unless -

'She was here, of course,' Hardy said. 'I didn't want to keep walking to her office and back here for references.'

Carly ruled the Professor's suite of offices on the 6th Floor. Hardy was right in putting Carly in his office but the thought, however logical, was difficult for me to take.

'You could have given her my empty office,' I pointed out. He looked surprised.

'You're right. I never thought of it.' He said.

My lips tightened while I tried to remember the reason why I had come. He came to me, his eyes narrowing.

'Hey. Hey, hey, Neen. What's wrong?' His hand came up to touch my face, maybe to touch my lips even. But I turned away.

'I'm tired, Hardy. I'm going home.' I said, already walking away, unable to cope with the sudden jealousy I felt. He said my name, but I left him unable to come after me, as Carly was waiting in the outside office. As I passed her, she smiled at me, but I imagined a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.

A few yards away, I stopped at Sam's secretary's desk and pretended I needed to speak to her about something. I turned to look back at Hardy's office. Carly was no longer in the outer office, and Hardy's door was closed again.

When I was feeding Amelia an hour later at home, I made the decision. I called my mother and blatantly lied.

'Mom, would you mind very much taking Amelia for the night? Hardy needs me to finish some things up at the office.'

'Of course not, dear. You know we always have Amelia's bed ready for her anytime.'

And the die was cut.

It was nine o'clock when I arrived at Hunter. There were no one cars left in the underground parking except for Hardy's and Carly's. With unsteady legs, I went up the elevator to the 8th Floor and walked directly to Hardy's office; no one was there. Where were they?

I went to the next place they would possibly be, the conference room, where I supervised all final speech rehearsals all day. When I approached it, I heard their voices, Carly laughing, and Hardy's low baritone. They were clearly flirting, and Hardy - Hardy was enjoying it all.

I stood there listening to them, burning with embarrassment to be hiding in the shadows, spying on my husband. Where was my self-respect? My restraint?

I turned around and ran to the elevators, but instead of going down, I took the one straight up to the Penthouse. From there, I used the phone and dialed the number of the conference room.

'Hardy?'

He was instantly alert, cautious.

'Neen? Is everything alright at home?'

'Send her home, Hardy.' I said.

'What?'

'I said, send Carly home, it's late.'

'Where are you?' He had lowered his voice. I could picture him stiffening, preparing to threaten someone. Me.

'I'm in the Penthouse.' I said, mortified to hear a quaver in voice. 'I - .'

He hung up on me. After wondering what to do next, I went to the kitchen and found what I was looking for. Some left-over red wine chilled in the fridge. I poured myself a big glass. I don't drink as a rule, because I don't like the taste of any alcoholic beverage, and because when I do drink it, I make a fool of myself. But I do become brave and rude, and so I braved the taste, grimacing as I gulped down around 700 mls of it as if it was my favorite vitamin water.

I walked out of the hallowed walls of the Penthouse and i sat on a comfortable chair in a corner, some distance away from the elevator doors where I knew no cameras watched.

Fifteen minutes after he hung up on me, I had reached true bravado and well on my way to spitting rude. He walked out of the elevator and saw me.

'What's going on, Neen?'

'Did you fuck her?' Silence. His face turned coldly furious. I don't remember ever shocking my husband into a fury. Usually he thinks I'm funny.

'No, I didn't, Neen,' he retorted. 'But I was going to, is that what you want to hear?'

It was my turn to be furious. I jumped to my feet, a mistake, as I swayed and fell against him as I tried to I hit him - right on the spot where Carly's naked arm had rested against.

'I most certainly do not. So if I hadn't come, you would be fucking her now, wouldn't you!' I hit him again. I imagined punching him with some force, but in reality, my punches must have been like friendly pats as he hardly budged.

He observed me with narrowed eyes. I stared back, trying not to be afraid of that look. It was the Richard look, just before he did evil things to me.

'Are you drunk, Neen?'

'I most certainly am not.' I said indignant, proud to discover I totally did not fear him. Three points for the Red. 'I won, didn't I? I sent her away, and I have you tonight.'

'Well, you most certainly have,' he said, mocking me.

'Were you going to bring her here, Hardy?' I said, suddenly feeling unsure and hurt.

'What if - what if I was?' He squinted at me in the dark corridor, watching my face, my reaction.

I gasped, wounded, not recognising a bait. 'I knew it! You weren't coming home again, and you were going to bring her up here! How could you, Hardy?'

I vaguely recognized my voice slurring, doling out an ugly, whiney nag, something totally out of my character, but I could not stop it. I was close to the point of no return. I knew I would regret every word I said and had yet to say tonight, every act that I would do, but I could not stop myself. I was on the train to willful self-destruction.

'Wait. So you sent Carly away, and came up here to spend the night, Neen?' He asked, assessing the situation. 'So where's Amelia?'

'At Mom's.'

He stared down at me, taken aback. I could almost see his mind grinding away, and recognised the point when a decision was made.

He went silent and thoughtful, suddenly expressionless, just like Richard, when he ravished me at the wall the first night.

'So. Since when did slaves decide what their master should do or not do?' He said quietly, as he tightened his hold on my wrists, and crowded me against the corner.

'But Hardy, you didn't come home last night, and Carly, you and she -'

'Have you forgotten who you are, Neen? Or where you are?' He murmured as he bent and nuzzled my ear. His aftershave surrounded me. I inhaled him and I was lost.

'No, Mr Hunt, I haven't forgotten.' I whispered, yearning for his body hard against me.

'Good,' he said against my hair. His mouth grazed my forehead, sending all the wrong messages down to my thighs, urging my hips to open, to press myself against his body. No, no, no.

'A slave has no right to choose, didn't you know that, slave?' he whispered almost tenderly. 'Perhaps we need another lesson, my dear.'

I whimpered my desire for him. I was shameless. I tried to put my arms around him, and he allowed it.

'Teach me, Mr Hunt,' I begged him. 'I'll do anything.'

'Who are you?' He stroked my hair.

'I'm Nina,' I said, my heart hammering. 'Your slave.'

His smile turned hard, mocking. 'No, you're not.'

'I'm not?' I stammered. 'I don't understand.'

'I wanted Carly tonight, slave,' he whispered. 'But now that I can't have her, you'll have to take her place.' I sensed some kind of careful stress on the words, as if he was testing their soundness. But I ignored it. I had placed myself in a position of weakness, and all logical thought disappeared. I neatly fell into the trap.

'Hardy?' I gasped. He had turned the world upside down for me again. I wasn't sure what I was to do next. I struggled to free myself from his embrace.

'You assume a lot, slave.' He murmured in that hateful, expressionless Mr Hunt voice. He grasped my jaw and positioned my face to stare down at me.

'A slave doesn't choose to be anything. You're an object, Nina. And tonight, since I can't have a real woman like Carly, I'll have to be content with fucking you, slave.'

That wounded me. Bastard! Bastard! I stared at him, wordless, my eyes blurring. But past the wine, some logic poked at me - this is his stage, his game. I am his - Thing.

His head swooped down, blocking what little light there was in the hallway. He licked my lips, and tasted the wine, deepened the kiss and crushed me to him, as if he was ready to take me then and there.

'Do you understand that, slave? When we go through those doors, you do anything I want, remember?'

I nodded, a lick of fear hissing through me.

'And don't look at me like that. I won't hurt you, remember that too,' he said in Hardy's voice, as he lightly slapped my hip.

Then he became all Richard Hunt, my master. He grasped my upper arm and pulled me through the doors, I had to run beside him, my heels clicking on the tiles - through the living area, past the study, the kitchen and pushed me into the bedroom. He locked and bolted the doors, handled the remote to set the alarms at the elevators and main door. Then he stood me in front of a chair.

'Strip.' He said, sitting on the chair to watch. 'You have not stripped for me yet. I've had to do it every time.'

I stood frozen. 'I don't know how, Hardy.'

'The name is Mr Hunt.' He said. 'All slaves know what to call their masters and how to strip off their clothes. Carly knows how, I should tell her to give you lessons.' He smirked at the look on my face. 'Ah, I know. Music!' And reached for a remote, clicked on a button, scrolled down a selection, and a seductive, swaying tempo filled the room.

By now, the wine had fully accomplished its duty. I looked at this man in front of me. A stranger, but familiar. Loved and hated, desired and feared. Right now, desire was overriding any fear, and the wine assured me I would have no greater pleasure than to be a sexual object for Mr Hunt's desire.

So I gave myself to the wine in my blood, the music, and my desire to please Richard. I smiled at him uncertainly, then more assuredly, willed some sparkle into my eyes, and I began to sway, caressing my breasts and thighs.

He looked startled, and I was surprised at that. Didn't he expect it - my sensuousness? I pictured Carly and that sexy way she tossed her hair, and I did the same.

I slowly, slowly, unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall open. I closed my eyes and I caressed myself all over, my hands skimming my breasts, releasing them from my bra, and allowing them to sit up on top of the cups.

'Is this the way you like it, Mr Hunt?' I murmured, my voice mellow and seductive.

As I swayed and turned, careful to retain my precious balance, I watched him watching me. To the beat of the mournful bass, I spread my legs slightly and slid my hands over my hips, then my buttocks, and even between my thighs.

I half closed my eyes and stared through drooping eyelids at my master. I was surprised to see an arrested look on his face. No, still more like shock. And again I was surprised. Didn't he expect Carly to do this? What would you do, Carly?

But I was Carly, and I swayed closer to my master. I dipped low so he could see my cleavage. I pushed my breasts up, to show him their plumpness. He touched them but he frowned at me with that cold look that I knew so well now.

I pressed closer, and he firmly pulled me to him trapping me between his thighs. He nuzzled my breasts and took a nipple in his mouth.

'Tease,' he said. He brought his knees together trapping me. He took hold of my wrists and held them behind my back. He molded my body against his and sucked my nipple. I moaned long and hard.

He kept my arms behind me with one hand and with the other, massaged my breasts and abdomen. He licked my navel and did to it what I wanted him to do to me with his cock.

He turned me around and I felt my arms being bound again. This time, he bound my elbows together which pushed my chest grotesquely forward.

He turned me to face him again.

'You deserve to be punished, did you know that, slave? I wanted another mouse tonight, but you drove her away. What makes you think I would prefer you, slave?'

I shook my head. I had no words to say to fight him at this.

'What punishment is fitting for you, I wonder?'

A hand went under my skirt, and found me dripping wet.

While he held me upright and he chewed on my nipples and stroked my wetness. He slowly massaged my clit, it was unbearably beautiful.

'Oh, Mr Hunt,' I moaned.

'What makes you think I'm doing this to give you enjoyment, slave? I might be wishing you were the other one. The one with the blond hair, hmm?'

He pulled at me until I was kneeling astride him, my breasts in his face. I was dependent on his hold of me. I would have fallen if he lost control. He bit my breasts lightly and suckled them like a child. The whole time his fingers were up my pussy, drenched in my juices.

He started to jiggle his fingers, shaking my flesh. I moaned again. 'Mr Hunt.' I was so near to my climax.

He released me all of a sudden, unknotted the band around my elbows and pushed me off him.

'You are not allowed to come, slave. That was your punishment. Go, complete your strip.'

I moved away, almost stumbling at the hardness of his gaze. But I looked down and I saw the tent of his trousers and I inwardly chuckled. Five points for this slave, I say.

Sometime ago, I watched a documentary about houri girls, those sex-slaves in Arabian harems. I remember I secretly envied their world in a way, their loss of choices. But I also remember their sadness, their tragic lives.

But I had admired their dancing and so I danced like the houri I was in my heart. I whipped my blouse away, but grabbed the silky scarf, the one he tied me with. I draped it over my breasts. I looked down and marvelled how erotic they looked half covered.

I continued to sway and dance for the music was becoming a part of me now, the lonely notes of the flute finding a home in my limbs. I lifted my flowing skirt up, showing my master a glimpse of my thighs. He was sitting up in full attention now, and so was his erection.

I tippy-toed up to him, around him, behind him. Still swaying, I stroked his head, weaving my fingers through his hair. I caressed his neck and began kissing him there, bending myself to reach over to caress his tenting. He let his head fall back and shuddered.

I knew then I was free to be whoever I wanted to be. A houri girl, sexy careless Carly, Nina the office slave, or Neen, beloved wife.

I swayed to stand again before him, and threw away the scarf. I bent and shimmied, and then I was free of my underwear, both top and bottom. I threw them behind me and I fell on my knees, between his lets.

'Master Richard,' the wine in me whispered. I unzipped him slowly, and rolled down the elastic of his shorts, I freed his straining cock, and licked.

He groaned. He pulled at my head gently, and pulled me off his cock. I looked at him questioningly.

'Who are you?' He asked hoarsely.

'Carly,' I whispered in a watery voice. 'Didn't you want me, Mr Hunt?' He smiled crookedly.

'Carry on,' he said. 'Carly, carry on.'

I positioned myself more surely before him, between his legs. I drew my hands over his thighs and legs. I gently unbuttoned his business shirt and stroked his nipples.

And then I paid attention to the prize I came after tonight. I licked the crown and played with him. I licked him up and down his length and kissed him everywhere there. Then I sucked him just like he taught me last night. Up and down, I made love to my master that way.

'I love your taste, Mr Hunt.' I breathed. I blew on him, and he shivered. I kept whispering my adoration for his cock.