Previously
From Capturing the Boss, Chapters 1-3, though this story stands cleanly on its own:
Geneâs whole body froze; he felt just what she was doing to his naked body.
She opened her mouth more and sucked the whole head of his penis into her mouth. Licking at the cock-slit on the head that so tantalized her. It did taste tangy, musky, but clean tasting. She sucked more vigorously, because she wanted to, and because he couldnât stop her from doing so since his wrists were restrained by plastic cuffs attached to the corners of his bed. And she did it because it tasted soooooooo damned good and she suckled him until he erupted in her mouth.
Afterwards, as Tia hopped off the bed, she glanced at Gene before departing. He was covered up warm, his face bare and somewhere under those covers his crotch was naked as well. His slumber a deep and drug assisted sleep that guaranteed her escape from his home. Tia headed for the hallway and from there a clean escape through his front door.
Gene opens his eyes a crack, glances around his bedroom, and lets his senses take inventory. It is morning; he is still in his own bed, and his ankles and wrists are free of the plastic restraints for the first time in two days; and every part of his six-foot body hurts. Groggy, Gene stumbles out of bed and heads for his bathroom, hangs his head over the bowl and pukes his brains up along with the contents of his stomach.
Gene flipped on the controls of his shower, adjusted the temperature to very hot, and stepped under the spray. His sense of his own identity in turmoil, Gene was not sure if he felt human anymore. He wasnât angry or hate-filled, just confused by his own behavior.
He had been taken, captured through cunning and stealth by a woman who broke into his home and lay in wait for him to arrive. Held hostage, tied to his own bed by some kind of cuffs at his wrists and his ankles by a female of indeterminable age and weight. And forced against his weak will to have sex to full orgasm twice: once in her mouth and once in her vagina. And Gene knew he had never been as aroused or as sexually satisfied as he had at the hands of his unknown assailant.
Gene knew he had been mad as hell at the time he was held hostage, but he also knew he had never truly resisted. He could have screamed the roof down. He had realized that after her initial threats with the long bladed hunting knife the girl had not actually endangered him. Indeed, except for the initial time she nipped his lip; and oh man, Gene could still feel the sting of that cut while he showered, but even that act had clearly been an accident caused minimally by his head jerking around and less by her viciousness. So that wasnât even her fault.
Gene leaned against the back of the tile shower and let the hot spray run down his body. He knew another truth as well; he had never hated her, not like he should have, not for more than a moment.
Gene headed through the back door of Ingram; he loved being able to park his bike under the overhang by the back shed, which kept the seat clean. Walking down the long, back hall through the building and into the administrative section of the front office was every dull misery that Gene was expecting it would be. People walking about their duties crossing his path and all felt obligated to comment on his altered appearance. âHo, Gene, whatâs the deal?â Dave Carter asked. â Gene, get a wad of gum caught in your beard?â Peter Claus wanted to know. â So, Gene, what prompted the shave? A new girlfriend?â from Bernadette in accounts receivables. And so it went, they all had a more flippant opinion than the last person. The humor continued through Betty the department manager, Bill the front desk receptionist; and even Tiandra, his bail-my-ass-outa-the-sling fixed assets controller, had to throw in a comment and a knowing grin.
Gene was so conscious of his new body as he walked the familiar corridors of his company. Not only was his face clean-shaven, barren of the beard that had grown on his cheeks and chin since the week he graduated from Stratford High School. Under his clothes, his naked armpits rubbed against his cotton shirt. The extra stimulation continually reminded him of his recent sexual cavorting and caused his nipples to bead up and harden. The feel of the smooth skin under his armpits was both unfamiliar and at the same time sensual.
And down in his pants, ah, that was another whole different story. His captor had not injured him per se, but she had taken great delight in changing him on a very primal level. His entire crotch was bare of its natural groin hair; no cock nest outlined his penis. He could feel his cotton nut huggers shifting across the newly naked skin around his no-longer hairy penis, which itself rasped gently against the naked skin of his scrotum. The soft, wrinkled skin of his balls, sensitive to begin with, raised awareness to new heights, as they no longer had his natural body hair to mask the sensations. His cock helmet bounced on the front of them, the material of his thin briefs caressed the underside of them. His penis, the weather vane of all these pricks of awareness, filled with hot blood as with every step he experienced arousal and fought down the impending erection.
He felt conspicuous, but he also felt sexual arousal like he had not felt since his teens. It was stimulating and addictive, and he was not ready to give it up and return to his previous humdrum, gray existence.
The meeting at 2pm was with Tiandra and Luther Deal to discuss the business seminars they individually attended last week. Gene tuned out Luther, after all, who in the entire world, cared about utility and natural gas conservation? Tiandra would be next. What had her seminar been about? It escaped Geneâs mind, altogether.
Three tiny tones emanated from his computer, and then an envelope icon begins blinking on Geneâs toolbar. [Youâve got mail] it silently informs him. Gene, absent-mindedly clicks on the icon, thinking it was probably Betty with another report deadline that he wasnât going to make anyway. She just kept sending him those deadlines and she kept track of all the missed deadlines as well. He knew it was part of her job, but how could anyone be that anal-retentive? Gene knew it was just best to see if it might be important.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subj: Re: What a wonderful world this isâŠ..
From: Teasergirl8
To: TES.Admin a/Ingram
Sent from the Internet
(Details)
Oh, Sweet Hunk, How I pine for your dear sweet body. The joy of running my fingers through the soft curly hair around your nice big cock! Oh, thatâs right? You donât have any cock nest anymore. Do you? But my memories and the colorful photographic reminders I keep by my bedside will do wonders to keep images of you clear in my head. I look forward to hearing from you. By the way, the e-mail address above is active; so let me ask you one parting question?
Gene, have you called the cops, yet?
Love and Kisses, your TeaserGirl
âxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Geneâs eyes nearly bugged out, and his body froze, rigid as his sluggish brain used every last red blood cell to process the images cruising through it at the speed of lasers.
She was not a figment of his imagination.
She had not forgotten him.
She knew exactly who he was and she knew exactly where he worked.
She had his office e-mail. Did she have his home e-mail as well? Gene knew, as he lived and breathed that his kidnapper had not released her hostage yet. He froze solid, his mind and his body grinding to a speedy halt as he processed the ramifications.
He had not reported her invasion of his home. Nor had he told anyone that he had been held hostage, bound and gagged, and sexually molested for two days. It WAS an assault. It might even be considered rape! But he had not told anyone; he had not even considered reporting it to the police? What WAS he thinking?
Geneâs mind swirled with multiple possibilities. Why had he not told anyone? He had talked to his brother George earlier this morning and told him nothing much was happening. Odd, he usually told George everything. But no, not this, this was private. This, he had kept to himself. The humiliation, his undeniable submission, the lust to repeat every last degradation, Gene knew now, he fully intended to keep every last detail all to himself.
Gene knew something else as well. He was thrilled she had contacted him!
Geneâs attention snapped back to reality as he realized he was hearing âherâ voice. His eyes darted from side to side as he searched for her body, her real presence. Instead of the girl that haunted his dreams or his nightmare, his attention focused on Tiandra Saldania. It was obvious that Andy had addressed him, and from the expectant looks on both her and Lutherâs face, then she had addressed a couple of times. â Sorry, Andy. I missed what you said?â
She looked at him sweetly, and said, âYa know, Gene, I donât think you are paying any attention to me at all today?â
Gene focused back, momentarily, on the meeting occurring in his office. Glanced at both parties, each had their own agendas and neither person was important to Gene at this particular moment. The manager in him had heard neither presentation, nor did he feel the training they had just gone through would have any impact on their job performance nor any future advancement. In one case it was a morale booster for a staff member with flagging professional commitments. In the other case, it was used to get a clever, but disruptive influence out of the office for a couple of days and just give the rest of the office staff a much needed break.
But, neither of these two people had his interest. Gene planted his best Search-for-Excellence smile on his face and hustled these two peons out the door.
Just in time to quite literally run into Christine Laterwoods, office slut-extraordinaire. She stood before him, toe to toe, and if he had not leaned back to take a breath of air into his lungs she would have had her breasts pressed against his stomach. She breathlessly launched into one of her convoluted monologues that seemed to be part business philosophy, part gossip and part fashion commentary that usually ended with her expressions of her enormous gratitude that she had him as a mentor (NOT!) and a role model. Gene had found these chats of hers mildly ego stroking, but today his attention was fixated on another and she was not clever enough to divert his attention from his midnight terrorist.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the short, pudgy form of Dave Carter leaning against a cubicle wall with a big shit-eating grin on his face and Tiandra with a wicked smirk on her lips and her eyes rolling toward heaven. Geneâs slut-meter had never been very sensitive, even when he had been married, but even unfocused as he was today Christine had his slut-meter hitting the red zone. He could not muster a single civilized word or a fake business smile, so he merely grasped her shoulders and thrust her aside.