The Ninety Days of Genevieve

by Lucinda Carrington

  ‘Get your clothes off,’ he said.

  ‘I thought we were going to discuss your terms,’ she began.

  ‘We are,’ he agreed. ‘But not with a desk between us. You’re not at work now. Just do as you’re told. I want to see if Georgie’s work is still up to her usual standard.’

  Genevieve stripped slowly and was pleased to see him shift position as she peeled off her blouse. Maybe he was getting an erection already? She hoped so. The sooner he was hard the sooner he would take her to bed and she could remove the now increasingly uncomfortable corset.

  She left her skirt until last. When she finally let it fall to the floor she saw his expression change from the relaxed look of a man enjoying a performance to obvious annoyance. He stood up, came towards her and hooked a finger in the front of her silk panties. ‘Did I tell you to wear these?’ he asked coldly.

  ‘You didn’t include any,’ she began. ‘So I thought—’

  ‘Let’s get one thing clear right now,’ he interrupted. ‘If we come to an agreement we do things my way. If I don’t give you panties it means you don’t wear panties. Understand?’

  She nodded, speechless. He went to a drawer and took out a pair of scissors. He pulled the panties away from her body and cut them. Her favorite underwear ended up in pieces on the floor.

  ‘That’s better,’ he approved, inspecting her. ‘You’re a natural blonde. I thought you would be. Turn round.’ She did so. ‘Spread your legs. Bend over slowly, then straighten up.’ She heard the leather creak as she moved. ‘You’ve got a nice, sexy ass,’ he told her pleasantly. ‘But I guessed that too.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ she said, still with her back to him.

  ‘I always let you walk in front of me,’ he said. ‘The perfect gentleman. Didn’t you notice? Then I used my imagination to decide how your bottom would look if I stripped you. And how big your nipples were. And how fast it would take to get them erect. Little daydreams like that help keep me awake at boring shareholders’ meetings. Don’t feel too flattered. I do it quite often with women that I meet.’ She prepared to face him again. He said sharply: ‘Stay as you are.’ She stood still. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘walk over to that door, and take your time.’

  When she reached the door she realized that it was drilled with inch-wide holes.

  ‘Turn round,’ he said. ‘Back up.’

  He went to a cupboard and took out some wooden pegs and narrow leather straps. He positioned her exactly how he wanted her, against the door, legs apart, arms stretched above her head, her body forming an X. He pushed the pegs into the holes nearest her hands and feet and bound her wrists and ankles with the straps.

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘Every house should have a door like this. You know, Miss Loften, it was worth buying you dinner just to see your legs nicely apart like a high-class whore waiting for action.’ He stood in front of her. ‘Although a real whore would have known how to prepare herself.’ His hands took her breasts and his thumbs stroked her nipples lightly. She knew he was watching her face for signs of enjoyment. It was difficult not to oblige him, especially as her body was betraying her anyway and she felt her flesh peaking into two hard buds. He took the strap with the rings on it and clipped one ring over her aroused nipple, tightening it until she gave a yelp of protest.

  ‘Next time perhaps you’ll do it yourself,’ he said.

  Her other nipple was treated the same way. He pulled on the strap that connected the rings, forcing her breasts together and giving her a deep cleavage. The pressure and the tugging made her realize how arousing it was to be manhandled in this way. The sensations became even more intense when he began to tighten the other straps so that both breasts were pulled upwards, and then he adjusted the front lacing of the corset, nipping her waist in by at least two inches, so that she gasped.

  He backed away from her and gave her a slow once-over. Even the passage of his eyes aroused her. He turned, went over to a chair and pushed it until it came to rest a few feet away from her. Sitting down, he put one leg over the arm and lounged back. A quick glance proved to her that he had enjoyed restraining her with the pegs, the straps and the rings as much as she had enjoyed being his victim.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve got much to discuss,’ he said. ‘I always knew that under that cool and efficient exterior there was a highly sexed woman just waiting to be liberated, and your behavior so far has proved that I’m right.’

  She wasn’t going to give in that easily. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ she objected. ‘I want that business contract. That’s why I’m cooperating. And I’d hardly describe this,’ she tugged at her bound wrists, ‘as liberating.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he said softly. ‘Lots of women would. Right now you haven’t got to think. You haven’t got to make decisions. You’re free just to be yourself.’

  ‘This isn’t being myself,’ she protested quickly.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘Are you sure? Do you know yourself that well?’ He paused. ‘Here’s the deal: for ninety days you’ll obey my orders. When I want you I’ll call you, and you’ll play the games I choose, no arguments. When you’re with me I’ll let you know who you’re going to be. A lady, a whore, a slave, the choice is mine. I will promise that whatever I arrange for you, I’ll protect you from being recognized by anyone who might know you. If you really object to anything I suggest you can back out, you’ve got that option, but if you do the deal’s off. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you mean “yes please”?’ he asked her softly.

  Ninety days? Three months? She had been expecting all this to be over in a couple of weeks. Did the idea of being his sexual slave whenever he decided to exercise his power over her excite her or appall her? She was not sure. ‘I’ll do whatever you want,’ she said quickly. ‘But just remember this is strictly a business deal.’

  He stood up and walked towards her. She would never have believed that she could find being forced into this kind of erotically humiliating position exciting. Normally she hated being uncomfortable. Now her swelling clitoris was aching for attention. He put one finger on her and stroked gently. The sensation was so intense that she writhed against her restraints and groaned.

  ‘You’ll do whatever I want, will you?’ His mouth moved over her neck and his tongue found her ear, lazily tracing patterns, probing. ‘Let’s see if you mean that. I want you to make me come, but not too quickly. Think you can manage that?’

  He took the strap that joined her nipples and tugged. The rings that circled her sensitive flesh caused her tremors of erotic pain. Her body quivered and shook. All she wanted now was relief, either manual or from penetration. She moaned and thrust her hips forward.

  ‘Answer me,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she groaned. ‘Yes.’

  She almost said please, her need for relief was so great. Swiftly he moved back, unzipped his trousers and lifted out his cock and balls. His erection was impressive but she did not have much time to admire it before he entered her smoothly, his hands behind her now, cupping her bottom, lifting her towards him. Her wrists and ankles pulled against their restraints. Her nipples, aroused from the embrace of the rings, rubbed against his coat, causing her extra delight.

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to this,’ he murmured.

  He plunged into her, slowly at first, and she matched his rhythm, clenching her internal muscles, squeezing, relaxing, pulling him deeper, but letting him withdraw far back enough to graze her clit with each thrust. She wanted to make it last too, not only to please him but for her own pleasure. But as his hips moved faster a glance at his face showed her that he was no longer in control. And neither was she. All that mattered now was release from the mounting sexual tension that gripped her. He climaxed just before she did, a hoarse groan of pleasure deep in his throat matching her own intense cry of relief.

  She relaxed limply against the door and watched as he tidied himself up. Even returning to its unexcited size
, his penis was impressive and she noticed that he was circumcised. He removed the pegs and straps that secured her. For a moment she remained standing against the door, then she took an unsteady step forward. She felt his hand on her arm.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said.

  She collapsed into one of the armchairs. The leather felt warm and sensual against her skin. He poured her a glass of wine and one for himself, clinked his glass against hers, smiled, and said, ‘Here’s to the next three months.’

  The following day a small parcel arrived by special courier. It contained three pairs of silk bikini briefs, lace-trimmed, beautifully handmade. A simple message card read: BUT NEXT TIME, OBEY ORDERS.

  Chapter Two

  ‘How’s your little flirtation with Mr. Sinclair coming along?’ George Fullerton stood in front of Genevieve’s desk.

  ‘Flirtation? What flirtation?’ Genevieve had been engrossed in her work and her reply sounded sharper than she intended.

  ‘Well, perhaps that’s the wrong word.’ Fullerton perched on the side of the desk. He was wearing a fresh red carnation. ‘It’s just that you seemed to be getting on pretty well with him at that last meeting. I wondered why we hadn’t heard from him again?’

  Genevieve looked up at Fullerton and linked her fingers together under her chin. ‘What exactly is “getting on well with him” supposed to mean, George?’ she asked sweetly.

  Fullerton had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘I thought maybe things were getting a little personal between you,’ he replied.

  Genevieve revised her opinion of George Fullerton. He was obviously more observant than she realized. Just how flushed and uncomfortable had she looked when he interrupted James Sinclair’s unorthodox inspection of her body? ‘Mr. Sinclair is a rather attractive man,’ she said. ‘We exchanged a few compliments. It’s good for business. But that’s all.’

  ‘Fine,’ Fullerton said. He paused. ‘Do you want my advice?’

  Genevieve smiled. ‘I rather think I’m going to get it anyway.’

  ‘You’ve probably heard about Sinclair’s business reputation. He hasn’t made himself a millionaire by being Mr. Nice Guy. I don’t hold that against him, but he’s got another reputation too.’

  ‘With the ladies?’ Genevieve nodded. ‘I heard.’

  ‘And as a manipulator of people,’ Fullerton said. ‘He uses them. Like chess pieces. I think he enjoys playing power games.’

  ‘Does that concern us?’ she asked. ‘With luck we could be handling his advertising. Who cares how he makes his money, as long as he keeps on making it.’

  ‘Have you wondered why he came to us?’ Fullerton said.

  ‘He saw the campaigns we did for Electa and Thorwoods,’ Genevieve said. ‘He liked our style. We’ve got some very exciting talent in our creative department.’ She paused. ‘I think he knows we’re ambitious. We want to grow. He understands that. He likes it.’

  ‘Maybe. But he’s with Randle-Mayne at the moment. They already handle several international accounts. Why does he want to move?’

  ‘He’s not happy with them. He told me that much. Creative differences.’

  Fullerton shrugged. ‘He’s hard to please. We’ve all heard that. And Randle-Mayne haven’t been the same since they lost Steve Farmer. It’s just that I’d like to know if Sinclair’s really serious about moving or whether he’s just playing with us for reasons of his own. Maybe using us to get at someone else. It’s the sort of thing he’d do, and, frankly, I don’t like the idea of Barringtons being used like that. We’ve got an image to consider. I wonder if he’s approached anyone else?’

  ‘He didn’t say so,’ said Genevieve blankly.

  Fullerton stared down at her. ‘What about your feminine intuition? Did that give you any hints about his motives?’

  ‘Really, George, what a sexist remark. I’m a businesswoman. I deal in facts.’

  ‘You’ve just told me you found Sinclair attractive. And you’ve just admitted you traded a few compliments, so you’re obviously not totally immune to his masculine charms. Give me an honest opinion.’

  ‘The honest opinion of a poor, weak, starry-eyed woman?’ Genevieve smiled. ‘Well, if you must know, George, I thought Mr. Sinclair was genuine.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ George Fullerton said, but he did not sound convinced. ‘You’ve done good work for us. If you get Sinclair’s account we’ll be grateful. Very grateful. But first I’d make sure the account really is up for offer. I’d like to be sure Sinclair isn’t just using us—and you. All I’m saying is, watch your back.’ He paused, next to the door. ‘And ours.’

  The door closed. That was really it, Genevieve thought. To be picked up and then dropped by a client like Sinclair would not be good for Barringtons’ image. And George Fullerton had money invested in the agency. He was protecting his own interests. But what have I got to worry about? she thought. If I play along with Sinclair’s games he’s promised me his signature.

  The trouble was she was now beginning to doubt if she could really trust that promise.

  ‘Maybe men find her big, floppy bottom attractive, but I think it looks positively grotesque. And those tights! If I had a figure like that I’d wear a tent.’

  Genevieve could hear Clare’s harsh voice through the wooden walls of the sauna. She knew who Clare was talking about, and was comforted to know that at least it wasn’t her.

  ‘She’s always got some man in tow,’ another voice commented. ‘Obviously some of them like acres of flesh.’

  ‘You might as well go to bed with a whale,’ Clare brayed. ‘It would probably have more imagination, too.’

  Genevieve bundled her things together and left the spacious changing-room. Why did women have to be so bitchy? The woman Clare was discussing had often smiled and spoken to her, although Genevieve had no idea of her name. She had always seemed pleasant and friendly. She was certainly large, but not unattractive, and Genevieve knew that many men certainly did like a partner with more than ample curves.

  She suddenly remembered one of Sinclair’s comments. What was it he had said? ‘I imagined how your bottom would look if I stripped you’? She felt her face growing warm at the thought. It should have annoyed her. What a cheek, treating her as if she was a piece of meat in the market, assuming that she would be available to him when he snapped his fingers.

  Somehow the idea of his self-confidence excited her. Very politically incorrect, she thought, but then we’re thinking fantasy here. In real life, I’m still in control. I’ve got my flat, my career, my choices. I can even terminate this ninety-day agreement if I want to.

  And if I did, she wondered, would Sinclair really take his account elsewhere? Was he really going to base his decision entirely on her compliance? It had seemed believable when he suggested it, but, she remembered, she had been in a rather compromising position and her mind had not been wholly on business matters.

  Maybe she should not have believed him so easily.

  She expected to hear from Sinclair quite quickly, but the days passed and he did not contact her either at her office or at home. She began to get irritable, and then angry. Had George been right? Was he simply using her? Had it amused him to trick her into humiliating herself? Was that all he wanted? A private little victory? The pleasure of knowing that he could tie a woman to a door and make love to her? Get her to dress up in leather bondage gear to please him?

  So she had enjoyed it, she remembered crossly, but he didn’t know that, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. As far as he was concerned she had simply been fulfilling her part of their agreement. Did that agreement still stand? She was no longer sure, and her pride would not let her contact him in order to find out.

  She tried not to think about him. During her solitary lunch breaks at the pub she read a magazine or a book, and deliberately avoided socializing. When she saw Ricky Croft heading towards her with a large smile on his face she felt her heart sink. He was obviously very pleased with himself.


  She suddenly had a horrible feeling that he had visited Sinclair with his drawings and pretended that she had sent him. Ricky would lie and name drop if it suited him, she knew that from the past. Maybe that was why Sinclair had not contacted her again. He had promised to keep their agreement confidential and obviously expected her to do the same.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ Ricky sat down opposite her.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ she asked. At least he did not have his portfolio with him this time, she noticed. She carried on eating her roll.

  He grinned at her. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘You’ve sold some of your artwork?’ she said.

  ‘All of them. Guess who to?’

  To James Sinclair, of course, she thought. But if you’ve told him I recommended you, I’ll strangle you. Right here and now.

  ‘To Jade Chalfont,’ Ricky said.

  ‘Who?’ Genevieve stared at Ricky blankly.

  Ricky’s infuriating grin did not waver. ‘Not up on the latest hot gossip, are you?’

  ‘I don’t have time to gossip,’ Genevieve said, rather untruthfully. ‘Who’s this Jade Chalfont, then? A collector?’

  ‘No, no.’ Ricky shook his head. ‘A businesswoman, like you. Very tough, very glamorous.’ He paused. ‘Lucci’s latest recruit.’

  That did interest Genevieve. She sat up straight and stared at Ricky, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Lucci’s were a new agency. Equal in size to Barringtons, they were also equally ambitious. Genevieve knew very well that Lucci’s had been trying to tempt a couple of designers from the art department. So far Barringtons staff had remained loyal, but Lucci’s poaching tactics had not exactly endeared them to Genevieve’s colleagues.

  ‘She bought your pictures professionally?’ she asked. ‘What’s Lucci’s latest project? Condoms?’

  ‘She bought them privately,’ Ricky said. ‘For a friend. A male friend.’

  ‘I hope you got a good price for them.’