by Simone Leigh
Michael stands, pressing himself to me, his perfume of pine and sex and clean masculinity filling my nostrils. His erection presses against my stomach as, clasping me at the hips, parting my knees with his, he swings me up, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around him as, hitching me up to a better grip, he plunges inside me.
I wail as he rams me inside, stretching me wide, my inner muscles clenching around his thick cock, my pussy streaming and hot. Behind me, my Master supports my back, holding me at the waist, taking some of my weight, as Michael pumps me.
Volcanically aroused, rocking my body to meet my Golden Lover, to match him, I ride the wave. Thrusting to take him, our bodies colliding, we fuck our way to climax. As the rush takes me, I howl, aware that Michael is also cumming. His body juddering against mine, his head is bowed towards me as he groans, spilling himself inside me.
Almost immediately, my Master, his hands still at my waist, pulls me free of Michael, and upright, standing me safely. He fumbles for a moment at the cuffs, unlooping the rope, releasing my arms from their raised position.
He and Michael change places, Michael behind me, my Master before me. Tottering slightly, I would still fall, but Michael supports me, gently lowering me. Hands on my shoulders guide me down.
Michael’s voice, “Kneel for your Master.”
On my knees, still blind and fettered, I hover uncertainly, but Michael’s hand on my shoulders steady me. He sweeps my hair around behind my shoulders, then entwines one hand into it, gripping me, controlling me.
I scent my Master. He is very close. The warm pungency of his groin swirls around my face, his cock pushing at my lips.
The grip on my hair tightens. “Let him in, Charlotte.”
I part my lips, licking at the salty trickle there. Michael’s voice again. “Open wider. Do your duty by your Master.”
My Master is tremblingly hard, huge in my mouth. Bound as I am, I can do nothing but receive him, as he eases in and out of me. Michael rocks my head to his rhythm, matching me to his pace. As I try to suck, to encircle him with my lips, fluid streams a delicately briny trail over my tongue.
I feel the pulsing first, hear the groan from above. The shaft engorges, stiffens, and hot cum fills my mouth. For a moment, thrusting forward, my Master’s cock threatens to block my throat, before withdrawing, pumping its load into me.
I cannot swallow properly. My mouth filled, I splutter and gag, hot cum escaping my lips to trickle down my face, and hot droplets splash down onto my breasts.
With a gasp, my Master pulls free. Fingers work at the cuffs. More fingers unbind my eyes, and I blink in the dim/blindingly brilliant candlelight.
Both men smiling down at me, I am offered hands, helping me up. Michael dresses me, sliding me back into the dress, rebuttoning me at the neck.
My Master spots the remains of the wine. “Refill anyone?”
________________________________
The following day, back at the office:
“Have you ever taken meeting minutes, Charlotte?”
“No, I haven’t, Sir.”
“You’re starting now. I want you to sit in on this.” Haswell waves me over to a chair at the far end of the conference table.
As a dozen or so people gather around the table, I start jotting down a note of their names.
One man sits about half way along the table. Short and tubby, for some reason, he looks familiar, and as I look up, for a moment there is a flash of semi-recognition, then he looks away, as though he also thinks that he knows me. I chew my lip, trying to place his face, then dismiss it as the meeting assembles.
Haswell sits at the head of the table, my Master beside him. The content of the meeting is mundane enough, but I find it useful and interesting, as I learn the roles of the people involved, time tables for work, scheduling for supplies and plans. It is easy enough to keep up with my note taking.
The man I think I recognise keeps glancing across at me, frowning slightly, then suddenly, he looks up, straight at me, smiling. I don’t care for the smile. There is a twisted quality to it.
Then he looks away, and I jolt my attention back to the meeting, continuing with my writing.
After the meeting breaks up, I wander through to Reception. “Francis, have you got an old set of minutes I can use as a template to lay out these notes?”
“No problem. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The other attendants at the meeting drift past me and out. My Master remains in the office with Haswell, talking. But the tubby man hangs back in the lobby, waiting for the others to leave.
“It is you, isn’t it?” he says. “I knew I recognised you.”
“Hello,” I say. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve met before somewhere, but I can’t think where…”
“Oh, but I remember where. We’ve not actually met as such, Charlotte, but I bid for you last year.”
With a jolt, the memory returns: the short, fat man who was knocked out of the bidding by my Master.
He comes up close to me, too close. His breath is sour, and he smirks as he talks. He reaches towards me, one finger almost stroking me in the hollow of my neck. I back away. He turns my stomach.
“I was outbid for you, although I got another girl instead. I did her good you know, and I’d still like to do you. What d’you say? I’ll pay you of course, since you’re in that line of work.”
“Push off.” I say. “I’m not interested.”
Through the internal window, I see my Master looking across at me, concern on his face.
The man continues. “As I see it, you’re going to say ‘Yes’ anyway, but if you make me work too hard for it, you won’t get paid. You’re working for Haswell now, right? I wonder what he’d say if he knew what his staff get up to outside office hours?”
He taps me with a finger, on the side of my cheek. “Think about it eh? I’ll be around again.”
My Master steps into the lobby. “Charlotte, is everything alright?”
“Um, yes, fine. I’ll tell you later. You get back to what you’re doing.”
He hesitates, clearly wanting to inquire further, but then disappears back into the office.
Francis returns with a file. “Here you are Charlotte. You can see they use the red markers for Actions, blue for ‘Notes for the Attention of…….’”
___________________________
I produce the minutes, which seem to be done well enough to draw no comment from anyone at all, and a couple of days later, I am called back in to act as Meeting Secretary again. The short, fat man is there. He looks smug as he walks past me, staring at me, and trying to hold my gaze. I look away.
Again, after the meeting has broken up, he hangs back, waiting to catch me by myself.
“Hello again, Charlotte. I was looking forward to running into you again. Have you thought about what I was saying the other day?”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’m not interested.”
“Ah, but I am, and I don’t like taking ‘No’ for an answer. So, let me put it this way. If you don’t start putting out for me, your Boss in there, Haswell, is going to know all about what you got up to last year. Everyone else too. Would you like to be famous on the internet?”
The office door opens and my Master steps into the room. He glances askance at the man.
“Ah yes, you’d be James. Yes, now I remember you too. Ned Jansen’s the name. Nice to meet you again.” He takes my Master’s barely proffered hand, shaking it; smirks again and walks away.
“What was all that about?”
I keep my voice low, conscious that Haswell is only on the other side of the door. “He’s trying to blackmail me. You too, I think. He was one of the other bidders at the auction. He’s threatening to tell Haswell about it.”
He is about to reply, but the door opens and Haswell steps out. “Ah, James. Glad I caught you before you left.”
My Master looks down at me. “We’ll talk about this later.”
_______________
____________
“So, what does he actually want?”
“Me, I think. He wants me to ‘put out’ for him. He offered me money at first, but when I refused, he said he wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer, and wouldn’t pay me.”
“Charming man…” My Master chews his bottom lip, pacing around the room. “You think he’ll do it?”
“Mmm, yes, I do. He’s not a pleasant man.”
“Then, there’s really only one course of action…. we have to tell Haswell ourselves, before he finds out some other way.”
___________________________
The lift doors swoosh open in front of me, and I step inside. Just as the doors close again, Jansen steps in besides me. “Ah, Charlotte. I do hope you’ve had time to reconsider.” He clamps his hand over the panel, so that I can neither press for my floor, or open the doors.
“Push off, Creep.”
“Last chance. I’m not a patient man.”
“Let me out.”
“You’ll be sorry.” He smiles and releases the panel. I jab at the ‘Door Open’ button and almost leap out of the lift, trembling and panting.
___________________________
I call Francis.
“Francis, is it possible for me to have a few minutes with Mr Haswell this morning?”
“Is it urgent, Charlotte?” I know that a good part of Francis’ job, as Haswell’s secretary and receptionist, to free him from unnecessary appointments.
“Um… yes, it is really.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Five minutes later, I get a callback. “Yes, he can see you now, as it happens. Do you want to come up?”
I tap on the door, feeling timid.
“Come in.”
Haswell is sitting behind his desk, clearly working, with a scattering of documents, a laptop, a pile of mail.
He looks at me over his spectacles, his expression neutral.
“Good morning, Charlotte. What can I do for you?”
My mouth suddenly dry, “Mr Haswell. There’s something I need to tell you.”
He looks at me over steepled fingers, frowning slightly. “Yes, and what is that?”
My throat is tight, and I am struggling to get the words out. After a moment, he stands, looking a trifle more sympathetic, waving me to the couches overlooking the City view.
“Coffee?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing hard. As he passes me a cup, I gulp down a mouthful, and then cough because the coffee is too hot.
He sits there, waiting patiently.
“I’m…. I’m… being blackmailed, or at least someone is trying to blackmail me and I’m not knuckling under to it, so, I think you’re going to find out anyway, and I’d rather you heard it from me.”
His eyebrows are raised. “Go on.” he says carefully.
“It’s about, James and I….”
He purses his lips. “If it is to do with the nature of the... um, relationship, between you, I can see that it might embarrass you, but it’s hardly blackmail material; especially since I already know about it.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“How...?”
“Charlotte, when a man of James’ age, however much I respect him, is quite so fulsome in his praise of a young woman, especially a young woman so, excuse me, but so beautiful, as you are, I have to question his motives.”
“He said that he got me the interview with you, but that the rest is up to me.”
He smiles, wryly, “Well, that’s true enough.”
“So…?” I say cautiously, not knowing quite where this is going.
“Charlotte, I’ve had an eye kept on you for the last day or so. As I said at our initial talk, I’m not too sure what to make of you; When I meet someone who seems too good to be true; academically brilliant, judging by your exam results; attractive, likeable, highly motivated, I start looking for the snag, the downside…. “
“My exams results are genuine…”
“I know. I checked with your university…”
“Oh!”
“So, I know that that is not the snag…”
He sees my expression. “Charlotte, I had you followed, and when I got a call the other night, I went to see for myself what was happening. Remember, I’m about to sign James up as a fellow director. If he has skeletons in his cupboard, I have to know what they are….”
“You mean…...?” I cringe inwardly.
“I was at the Club. I had a ringside seat in the viewing gallery.”
“Oh, God…” I mutter, hand over my face, flushing.
He waits for a moment. “Charlotte, I’m quite sure that right now, your embarrassment is excruciating, but, it is not a difficulty. ‘Work hard. Play hard?’ I don’t have a problem with it. It is private business between the two of you.… Sorry, the three of you.”
Again, he waits for a moment, while my mouth tries to form words. When I fail, he fills in. “So, if that is all that this was about, we’ll let it pass, shall we? I assume there’s nothing else?”
“Er, well, yes, there is. You see the blackmail thing, it’s not to do with our relationship…., exactly. It’s more to do with… how we met.”
Now, Haswell goes silent. He sits quietly, waiting.
Forcing the words out, “I needed money, badly. I auctioned myself. James was my Buyer.”
He tilts his head, absorbing my words. “You say, he was your ‘Buyer’? What was the nature of this ‘Buying’? You mean, you prostituted yourself?”
“Er, not exactly, although I suppose a lot would see it that way. Um, I sold myself for a week, with er… my virginity. It was a contract, through an auction house.”
His voice is deadpan, expressionless. “And in this contract, you agreed to… what?”
“Anything,” I whisper. “anything that didn’t result in my permanent injury.”
He sits back in his chair. “You are telling me that James Alexanders, who I am about to appoint as a Director, purchased a young girl…. How old were you are the time?”
“Twenty-two.”
He raises his eyebrows. “….. a young woman then, for purposes of……”
“Yes.”
He reaches over to his phone. “Francis, cancel my appointments for this morning please.”
“Yes, Mr Haswell.”
“I have several questions for you, Charlotte.”
I nod.
“Who is trying to blackmail you? Is it James?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.”
“So,” he continues, “about this blackmail?”
“There was a man, in one of your meetings. He recognized me. He was at the auction. He bid on me, but got knocked out. He told me, he bought one of the other girls. He tried to make me agree to…. When I refused, he said he would tell you. Destroy me, and James, in your eyes.”
“And the name of this man?”
“Ned Jansen.”
“Jansen?” His eyebrows rise. “Never did like the man much. Still, he’s not done anything yet…. or…” He pauses, looking at the pile of mail on his desk. Meeting my eyes for a moment, he riffles through it. Most of it, he tosses straight into his outbox; standard fare that someone else will handle. He pauses at a large brown envelope, fat with contents. He turns it over. There is no addressee, or any other marking, on either side.
He rips away the top of the package, pulling out a sheaf of papers. Turning it upside down, he shakes, and something drops out; a flash drive.
He looks briefly through the papers, again, expressionless, then wordlessly, passes them across to me. Swallowing hard, I look through them.
I know exactly what they are; the brochure and marketing for the auction, including my details and photograph.
Staring at the floor, I take a deep breath. “Well, at least you’ve seen the worst of it.”
Haswell is silent and I look up. Is there a trace of sympathy in his eyes? “Perhaps…” he says.
He plugs the flash drive into t
he side of his laptop and swings it around so that we can both see it. It flickers up into video. In shock, I stare at the screen.
It is a movie, of me, standing on a podium. I am dressed, with a black leather collar around my neck.
“Oh, God.” I say, not knowing what to do with myself. Haswell simply watches, saying nothing.
The view is framed through the heads of an audience, clearly taken by someone sitting in the audience. The auctioneer’s voice is clearly audible. And other voices.
“Raise your head. At these prices, I want to see what I’m getting.”
The ‘film me’ raises her head, chin tilted up, staring out, and looking as though she is going to burst into tears.
The horrible movie plays on…. The auctioneer addresses me.
“Charlotte, it is entirely your choice, but are you willing to undress at this stage, on the podium? It will almost certainly help you to bring a better price.”
“Undress now? All the way?”
“It’s up to you, Charlotte. No-one is going to make you. But the better they can see what they are buying, the better your chances.”
It goes on and on, the bidding, the ever-mounting prices. At the end, the bang of the gavel, a leash attached to my collar, being led away by the man who is now my Master.
Haswell reaches forward and clicks it off. “Clearly taken by someone using a mobile phone or similar.”
I sit, flaming with humiliation, speechless with mortification.
“Charlotte, why did you need the money? What was going on, that you were willing to endure that? And what presumably followed?”
“I wanted to go to college, but the University fees….”
He cuts me off. “Fine. That’s all I need to know. Now…. James was your buyer?”
“Yes.”
“As that film closes, it shows you, naked, being passed to him… on a leash.”
“Yes.”
“What happened after that?”
My mouth is dry. I fight the words past my lips. “Mr Haswell. It must be obvious to you what…”
“Yes, yes. The purpose of the exercise is clear. My point is that a man who I was about to appoint as a Director on my Board, paid a great deal of money to purchase, with no limits on his behaviour, a young woman…”