by Alyssa Clark
“Why are you checking on me?”
“Let’s not beat around the bush, Matt,” he stood and came around the desk to stand close to me. “I’m not privy to the details, but I’m aware that you paid Miss Winters a visit yesterday.” I felt anger start to boil in my gut. The bitch had called him and told him what she did to me? It must have been apparent on my features because he put a hand on my shoulder. “She didn’t tell me the details, as I said. But, she informed me that you had pursued an interest in her services.”
I glowered at him, not trying to mask my anger now. “She signed the same contract that I did,” I growled out.
“Of course she did,” he said lightly as he brushed off my anger. “But I also informed her that I had given her card to you. She was expecting you. I thought you would have seen her sooner than you did. But, I assume you found out what services she offers the hard way.” He took a breath and straightened his tie, “There is a certain type of person that seeks out Angela. I’m well aware that you aren’t that type of person.”
“What makes you say that?” I felt confused now, he didn’t make any effort to know me as he took me under his wing. If anything, all he did was deal out orders. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to think if the situation qualified as some sort of sexual harassment.
“It’s pretty evident that you didn’t enjoy yourself,” he said seriously. His voice lowered, and he looked away from me, “What did she do to you?”
I was struck, not wanting to divulge what had happened to me. I felt shame curl up my neck, and I looked away from him. “What does she do for you?”
He grimaced a second, looking uncomfortable as he considered his answer. He went to sit back down and steepled his hands together, look like he was a man in power. “She beats me, she straps me to a bed, brings me to the point of near orgasm and denies me the pleasure. There are other things she does,” he cleared his throat. “But, those are things that I would prefer to keep to myself.” He leveled a look at me then, “What did she do to you that has your feathers ruffled?”
I didn’t want to say, even though he admitted some of the things she did to him and implied there was more that she did. Something hardened in my gut, something primal that made me angry. The idea of sharing her, maybe. Because damn me, after all that the only thing I could seem to think about was sinking my dick between those legs and making her scream my name. “Have you fucked her?” I chose to ask instead, because I had to know.
He chuckled, “No.” He looked entirely too amused, “Not that I wouldn’t and haven’t tried. I have done all that I can think to please her. I’ve tried showering her with expensive gifts, offering her great sums of money, hell… I would leave my wife for that woman just for the chance to taste her.” He closed his eyes as he seemed to fantasize how it would go and it made me queasy. “But, she refuses gifts and gives a harsher punishment for anytime I try to purchase a happier ending to our meetings.” He tapped his fingers together as he looked at me, “Now, what did she do?”
I swallowed hard and looked away, “She spanked me.”
“That’s all?” he made a noise, and when I turned to glare at him, I could see he was unimpressed. “She worried about your mental state after just spanking you? I am being punished for this? That was all that she did?” He rubbed a hand over his face and through the hair on his chin.
“You’re being punished?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “She canceled our next meeting and will not see me until she’s deemed that I have learned my lesson,” he sounded angry at the prospect, and there was something satisfying about seeing his discomfort. “It is,” he seemed to have composed himself. “A great displeasure for me to not be able to see her regularly.”
“How has your wife not found out about what you do?” I couldn’t help but ask. I sat, grimacing because now that he knew there was no point in asking. “And why do you seem dependent on it?”
“I can’t cum,” he growled out. “Unless she allows me to. My wife,” he snorted, “could not give a damn. The only reason why Linda and I are still married is because she didn’t read the prenup when she signed it.” There was something of a satisfied smile on his face at that admission. “If I were to leave Linda to pursue Angela, then Angela would no longer see me. I don’t expect you to understand, but there is something to handing over the control of everything to another. That pleasure, pain, love is given or taken away by one person. Angela is a kind mistress. She is giving and attentive and concerned. She cares about my health and my relationship with my wife, even if I lie to her about it.” He looked away seeming to not see anything in front of him, “I have not been denied by her like this.”
“And you pay for this treatment?” I didn’t know whether or not I should be disgusted, or maybe amazed.
“All she did was spank you,” he leveled a glare at me. “I can’t imagine why she would deem it necessary to do that on the first meeting, Matt. What did you say to piss her off?”
I blinked then narrowed my eyes, “What makes you think I pissed her off?”
“Spanking, boy, is a punishment. Did your parents not spank you as a child?” I fought to not roll my eyes and shrugged, they had. I didn’t feel the need to pay a woman to beat me. “What did you say or do to insult my Angela?”
I blinked then raised an eyebrow, “I asked if she was a prostitute. It was pretty evident she wasn’t a masseuse. I couldn’t imagine any other reason why you would refer me to her.” Now that I thought about it she had been intent on giving me ten licks and ended up relenting down to five. I swallowed as I remember the feeling and I was glad that the desk separated Franklin and I. He didn’t need to see the sudden erection I had developed.
“You deserved worse than what she gave you,” he growled at me. He stood, his hands fisting into his pockets. “You will apologize to her. She is a lady, and that is not how you treat a lady,” I looked at him like he was mad. Because that was an insane demand that he couldn’t really make me do. “I need her to relent on her punishment,” he sounded desperate. “Do this for me, and I will allow you your pick of the cases that come to our door. I will put you on the path to fucking partner if that is what you want.”
“I’ll call her and make an appointment,” I agreed. “But it will be at your expense.”
He went to the door with a huff, “Fine. I’ll cut you a blank check to her, and she can fill in the cost.”
5
Angela
I gave Mr. Franklin a week to handle the mess he created with Mr. Clarke. I didn’t take phone calls from him, and I completely cut him off. It was a harsh punishment that I felt as well since it meant I had to buckle down, and I had to watch my spending. While what I did didn’t necessarily make me rich, not with my shoe fetish, I wasn’t struggling. But without the income from Mr. Franklin’s sessions, I couldn’t get the new shoes I was lusting over.
New Manolos, strappy and gorgeous. Damnit.
After the encounter with Mr. Clarke, I needed a distraction. He had gotten under my skin. I would dream about him tied to my bed, at my mercy. I was remiss that I had only the feel of his hard cock in my hand and didn’t get the chance to really look at it. The view I had gotten of him was the aftermath, and it really didn’t give me a good idea just how big he was. My imagination helped fill in that gap. I had awoken one morning with the vision of me riding him still fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but curse the damn man for looking good as I finished myself off.
It usually didn’t help. I needed to get laid, and that was the only real course of action to get this want out of my system. But fucking him was out of the question. I could see where that could lead, I want him now. I would be damned if I was going to develop anything outside of warm affection for a client.
Though Mr. Clarke had already proven that he couldn't be a client. He didn't have the personality of someone that could submit to another. He would fight me at any session we might have, and resentment would develop. It was just a bad ide
a. He was a man that would prefer to be in control.
Fortunately, midway through the week my other client, Mr. Middleton, called me to schedule a session. Compared to Mr. Franklin, Middleton was far more open to allowing me to do different things to him. He suffered from a bad case of erectile dysfunction and usually didn't achieve an erection during our sessions unless there was some prostate stimulation. Though, when I pitched the idea of the strap on to him he still balked at the idea.
It was unfortunate because I had kept the damn thing for too long now and I wouldn't be able to get a refund. Plus, I wanted the opportunity to use it. One day. One day I would find a man that was man enough to let me fuck him with it.
Anyway, I met Mr. Middleton at my office. He was different from Mr. Franklin in the case where he liked to be elaborately restrained. We were currently experimenting with suspending him from the ceiling, which was a challenge because he was a little on the pudgy side. When I first had the system installed the men that had done it looked at me and suddenly looked afraid, giving me a short, concise rundown of the suspensions limitations.
Once Mr. Middleton arrived, he undressed and came to stand on the black x that I had taped to the floor. I had stood waiting for him, a rolling stand waiting beside me with the various implements that I reserved purely for him. First, a plastic cage, which was sized specifically for him, plus it was an unsanitary thing to share. There was also a small butt plug that I would insert after he was restrained and suspended. Part of all of this was for him to not make a sound or protest, save for his safe word, during all of this. If he managed it without a noise, he was rewarded. If he didn’t, there would be a punishment; more often than not I punished him. Though the elaborate system and scheme was something he had plotted out. Even the punishment.
He stood stoic looking ahead without eye contact as I rigged the ropes and cuffs. “Ready, Mr. Middleton?”
He gave me a sharp nod and a clear, “Yes, Mistress.” With a little effort, thanks to a great pulley system, I had him trussed up and suspended. He managed it all without a sound, though that had just been the easy part. I took the time to wedge a bar between his knees, strapping it there to keep him from trying to struggle or flail too much. I didn’t want him rocking around even after the assurance that the system was solid. He may want this, but it scared the hell out of me, and I constantly worried that he would fall.
With his legs forced apart I tugged the rolling tray closer and proceeded to put the plastic cage around his flaccid cock, often it wasn’t a necessary thing. But, I think he liked the idea of the cage denying him an erection even if he couldn’t get it up. I didn’t judge. Before putting the lock on it, I made sure his gaze connected with mine. “Does this hurt in a way that it should not?”
“No Mistress,” he answered shortly.
“No pinching or burning in any way?”
“No Mistress,” always so quick to answer and ready to please.
Mr. Middleton was so easy, it was hard for me to not show him affection. I cupped his cheek and gave it a caress that made his eyes close. “I’m going to insert this plug now. If at all you feel any discomfort at all what is your safe word.”
“Stalemate,” he reminded us both.
“If you say anything other than that outside of answering my questions you will be punished, you understand?” I got a nod, silence began now. I pulled on a rubber glove and smoothed a generous amount of lube onto my fingers and then onto the little bulb of the butt plug. I didn’t wait or give him any other warning, I rubbed my fingers against his anus, liberally spreading the lubricant before I pressed my fingers into him. This was sexual, I could lie to myself all I wanted, but he got some sexual gratification from this. I didn’t, but this wasn’t for me. I had begun to overlook my wants in favor of the men I saw when I started this.
I worked my fingers in and out of him, teasing little whimpers from him that I chose to ignore for now. I spread my fingers apart, watching his face for any telltale signs that he was going to break. I received another whimper, but nothing further. I picked up the plug and removed my fingers so that I could press it into him.
He gasped, and his hands began to open and close minutely. As soon as the plug was in place, he released a low moan. “You did so good,” I said though we both knew he wouldn’t have been able to maintain silence during the insertion. “But,” I clicked on the plug so that it began to vibrate. “You made noise, my dear Mr. Middleton.”
His hips rocked, and he swayed in the air. “I’m sorry, Mistress!” his voice was desperate and his eyes wild as he bucked. I pulled the blindfold off the tray that I kept for this because I knew this would happen, as he did. I shifted from between his legs and wrapped the silk blindfold around his face then secured it. He grunted and moaned as I stepped away from him. I let him settle into the restraints and get comfortable with the vibrating plug before I began any sort of punishment. It would be twenty minutes before his heavy breathing would settle, though the whimpers and moans would still persist. I picked up a leather flogger and got closer to him to do a quick check of his pulse. It was accelerated, but not at an alarming rate. With his reaction and the cage, he didn’t have an erection even with his obvious arousal.
I stepped back, making sure the heels of my shoes made noise. He was blind to me and unexpecting when the actual punishment would come. The anticipation added to with the vibrations of the butt plug and likely had every nerve screaming for contact. I’d start from below, though the blows wouldn’t be painful. I swung the flogger upward to hit his back. I didn’t use a lot of force with Mr. Middleton, he was older than Mr. Franklin, and I often worried what would be too much, so I went on the side of caution more than anything.
Despite the lack of force I used, each time the flogger connected he gasped out. I shifted around to start flogging his chest and stomach, using a tad bit more force with the downward swing. I was admiring the strips of red skin that started to flare up on his pasty chest when I heard a noise. I paused mid-swing and listened.
Was that a phone ringing? I felt anger well up in me, and I fisted my hand in what little hair Mr. Middleton had left, “Is that your phone?”
He gasped out and tensed though he didn’t resist, “N-no! I left mine in the car!”
I released a breath and started to smooth out the tangled hair that had been in my hand. I kept petting him, soothing out my rage as the ringing of what had to be my phone stopped. Mr. Franklin had taken to calling me regularly, eager to get back into my good graces. But, he was a man that was predictable in the means that he liked to keep a schedule. He usually called me during lunch. I would let it go to voicemail like I usually did and returned my attention to Mr. Middleton.
I had managed two more strikes before my phone started to ring again. I cursed, something I refrained from doing in front of my clients but I found my patience running thin. Mr. Middleton tensed but didn’t make a noise at my obvious anger. “You will have to forgive me. Apparently, there is someone striving to get my attention. Wait here,” like he had a choice.
I stalked to where I kept my bag and tore through it with an ire I hadn’t felt since after I sent Mr. Clarke on his way. I didn’t bother to check the number I just answered with a clipped tone that I knew Mr. Franklin would respond to, “I am currently preoccupied, and your persistence is not going to garner you any affection. I will contact you on my time and not yours.”
“Miss Winters,” Allen Franklin’s voice didn’t greet me, and I immediately pulled the phone away to look at the number. It wasn’t pre-programmed into my phone, and it was unfamiliar. The caller began again, “I’m sorry. I was unaware you were ... preoccupied.” It took me a minute to register it was Mr. Clarke that had called me. I remained silent, prompting him to continue. “I was hoping to schedule an appointment with you.”
Really? He wanted to see me again? Something in my chest fluttered, and I immediately clamped that down. I wouldn’t get excited over the prospect, “When?”
“I-I was hoping as soon as possible,” he said, sounding unsure and maybe excited. “I am at your office now.”
I drew my brows together and took a cautious look over at Mr. Middleton, he swayed, and his hips bucked, but he didn’t make a noise. I walked over to the door that separated the front from the back and opened it. I didn’t have a care that I was dressed in nothing but a lace bustier, pretty thong, and matching garter belt. But, when I saw Mr. Clarke waiting outside the glass door to the front part of my office I thought maybe I should have put on a robe first. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “As I said before,” I spoke looking him hard in the eye. “I am currently preoccupied. If you wish to make an appointment, you will have to wait. And you will not be waiting in my office.”
“Yes,” he breathed, sounding like he wasn’t about to argue. He looked mesmerized as he took in my state of dress.
“I will contact you when I am available to see you,” I said sternly before hanging up the phone and turning to close the door. I went back to Mr. Middleton, trying to keep from growling out my frustration or allowing the hunger I felt get to me. But, I felt it pooling between my thighs now. I wanted to string up Mr. Clarke as I had the man before me.