His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And the thought made me shiver in my desk chair, my body on high once more. There were no men in sight, heck, there were no other people even in the basement. And so I turned to the next best option … a sex toy rumbling against my cunt, making me scream with pleasure.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tammy

  Slowly, I got out the key to my secret drawer, slipping it into the lock with a snick. The drawer rolled open on its own, hissing on the metal wheels, and a shiver ran through my body at the contents.

  Because I’ve been keeping a drawer full of sex toys at work. It’s crazy, I know. Like I mentioned, I’ve been wicked, very, very wicked, and this went beyond the pale, beyond my wildest dreams. I’d been so embarrassed when I bought my first one … and now I was keeping a stash at the office.

  I remembered my first time in a sex shop. I was mortified to be standing in the Pink Cherry at midnight, perusing the section called “Female Fun.” But things were getting desperate. Not only was I a virgin, but I had no conceivable romantic life to speak of and my body was dying for a man’s touch, to explore the secret unknown, to explode somehow, somewhere, with a man’s help.

  Except that there was no one with a Y chromosome in sight. So I’d taken myself to the Pink Cherry to browse in a grey sweatshirt, the hood up, trying to conceal my identity. Although it wasn’t possible, not really. The sex shop was brightly lit, more like a food emporium than a seedy den, and it was decorated with all sorts of bright pink banners and signs saying “His Pleasure,” “Her Pleasure,” helpful tidbits like that. It actually felt like a normal store, I could almost pretend I was grocery shopping or browsing for books.

  But I was still embarrassed and when a friendly associate accosted me, I tried to shrink into myself, to disappear. No such luck.

  “Hi, I’m Marie,” she chirped. “Anything I can help you find?”

  “Um … um … what is that?” I said, gesturing vaguely to my right. I was too embarrassed to even pick up any of toys, my shyness overwhelming. But the clerk was really nice, a clean-cut blonde about my age with glasses and a friendly smile.

  “Oh that!” she said merrily. “That’s a pocket rocket, perfect for a woman’s pleasure. You put this part on you,” she said, picking up the toy, “and then flick this little switch, and ta-da! Feels like heaven!”

  I flushed again but was intrigued. Reaching out a tentative hand, I took the rocket from her and closed my palm around it, feeling its weight, its heft, the soft, sculpted rubber.

  “And see, you can turn up the speed,” added Marie helpfully as her finger twitched on the controls. And just like that the pocket rocket went from a gentle hum to throbbing vibrations. Holy cow! That would feel amazing against my pussy and with a flaming red face, I mumbled, “I’ll take it.”

  “Sure!” chirped Marie cheerfully. “Anything else? Let me ring this up for you.”

  And just like that, it was done. Marie packed up my purchase in a brown paper bag, logo-less, totally discreet, and I hid it in my book bag, eager to get home and try it out.

  And it was pure heaven. I loved it, coming on my own over and over again, moaning, squealing and gasping as I played with the controls, rubbing my clit with the little vibrator. But that experience lit a fire in me, opened up a yawning chasm and I found myself back at the Pink Cherry again and again, becoming friendly with Marie.

  “How about this one?” the sales associate asked, holding up a glass shaft. Oh my god, it was so big, so commanding, and I’d never be able to use it, I was a virgin still and too scared to pop my own cherry. But I nodded wordlessly and the glass rod joined my growing collection, ten and then twenty sex toys, at my disposal for lonely nights at home.

  It’s just that I’m rarely at home now. I work so much and then go to school, only dropping into bed at eleven p.m., dead tired from the combination of work, school, and commute. So I’ve moved most of my toy collection from home to work. Sitting alone in the basement of Luxor Corp. with nothing to do and no one around, I figure I’m not hurting anyone and no one will ever know. It’s my wicked little secret and the toys have provided me with some much-needed entertainment and relief. I use the Women’s Restroom a couple times a day now, exploring myself, playing with myself, and it’s been amazing. The hours go so much faster and I’m able to concentrate on my chemistry homework after it’s done, the orgasms clearing my mind, my body relaxed and sated.

  And now, after Barry’s disgusting interlude in the bus, I found myself curiously horny. Oh no, it wasn’t the thought of Barry, no way. It was the thought of sex with a handsome man, his hands touching me, stroking my folds, making me wet, and letting me touch him in return. And oh god … but I was hungry.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nick

  It’s another day at Luxor Corp. Or, to be more precise, another busy, jam-packed day managing my real estate empire. I’m a mogul on par with none other in New York City, at the helm of a company that has controlling stakes in the Empire State Building, Madison Square Garden, and countless office buildings all over Manhattan. Construction and development, not to mention building management, is my forte and at the grand old age of forty-five I’m literally worth billions, my portfolio is enough to make a lesser man gasp and go green with envy.

  But it’s not like the money makes itself. I’m still up at 6 a.m. every morning working like a madman, whether going over spreadsheets, reviewing proposals, or touring the buildings themselves.

  That’s right, even though I’ve got thousands of people working for me, there’s nothing like walking the site itself, evaluating the construction, the maintenance, making sure the crews are using the right screws, the right type of window frames, keeping everything gleaming and in tip-top shape. Because when they know the boss is going to do a random drop-in, they’re on their toes and do a better job. I’m not just an invisible figure at the top, I’m the man himself come to life, with encyclopedic knowledge of this industry and a sharp eye that can pick up the smallest details, nothing gets by me.

  So this morning I headed over to 666 Madison Ave., a new office tower that I’d acquired a couple months ago. Seeing that it was 6:30 a.m., no one in my entourage was with me, I’d be walking the halls alone. Pulling the Maserati into the garage, I slid slowly, smoothly into my appointed parking space. Even in crowded Manhattan, there was always a spot for the boss, just one of the perks of being me.

  I clicked my badge at the back entrance and made my way into the sub-basement. This is how I like to do it sometimes. If you give them notice that you’re coming, they prep everything in advance, scrubbing and buffing, making sure everything gleams. But if you do a surprise visit, then you see how things really are, what the average person sees.

  So I let myself into the back and proceeded down a deserted hallway. Okay, it wasn’t exactly fancy down here but that’s not the point. The basement is a place where supplies are kept, equipment stored, that kind of thing. Maintenance comes by once in a while to make sure everything’s in working order but for the most part, no one’s down here.

  And everything looked kosher. The hallways were narrow, lit with fluorescent lights, the floors a shiny vinyl. I could hear the hum of the boiler, the bellows of the heating/cooling system, and the crank of the elevator as it was called up to a floor above.

  But I was surprised to find a door open with a lamp on inside, casting a wedge of light onto the polished walkway. What the hell? Who was here this early?

  With a nudge, I opened the door and peered in. There wasn’t much, just a desk, a chair, and a file cabinet, a couple papers strewn here and there, a stapler and paper weight lying carelessly on the desk. The computer was on though, humming away and I took a look at the monitor. Hmm, the screen was locked. That was in accordance with company policy, we tell employees not to leave their work stations unattended because you never know who’s going to come by and see privileged materials. Even if in this case, it was me.

  I retreated, continuing with long strides down the hallway.
I’d have to get Jones to look into who was in the solitary office but it was probably just the super running some figures, calculating the cost of cleaning supplies or rejiggering the maintenance schedule. No worries.

  But then I heard it. A low hum, and then a sigh. What the heck? I glanced at my watch. Yep, 6:45 a.m., far before most people got into work. I strained my ears and the noises came again. This time there was a breathy gasp and then a slight whine, ending in another deep sigh. These were definitely not the sounds of a workplace environment. In fact, I’d have to say that someone was getting it on down here, before the day got started, before anyone would notice.

  And so following the sounds, I came to a halt before the women’s restroom. Pushing the swinging door open gently, I glanced inside. Was there a couple making out in one of the stalls? Maybe getting down right against the wall?

  But instead, the most beautiful girl came into view. Curvy, luscious, with brown hair hanging down her back, she had her skirt hiked up and panties pulled down and was touching herself, moaning and gasping with pleasure.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nick

  I watched amazed at the scene before me. After all it’s not every day that you get to work, doing your rounds as usual only to find a beautiful girl pleasuring herself in the public restroom. Careful not to make a sound, I continued staring at the show before me, my dick growing rock hard.

  Because the girl was luscious, curvy in all the right spots, totally wanton and completely into it. She’d pulled her blouse apart baring two beautiful, perfectly-shaped DD tits and was playing with them at the moment, rolling her nipples between her fingers, squeezing and pulling at those hard nubs.

  “Oh!” she sighed, throwing her head back, eyes closed. “Oh god!”

  And I watched entranced as her jugs bounced up and down, the soft white flesh pendulous and creamy, mashed between her hands as she squeezed herself. With a sly smile, the brunette brought one up to her mouth, licking the nipple lasciviously before bringing the other one up as well, sucking lightly before stuffing both tips into her mouth while moaning deep in her throat.

  And a deep growl escaped me then, a throaty rasp. Because I love big boobs, I’m a breast man and seeing these luscious curves on display, squeezed, caressed, licked and sucked made my cock pop out to full mast, a stiff tent in my crotch.

  But the girl didn’t notice, she was too caught up in her fun. Leaving her breasts for a moment, she pulled up her skirt, struggling to get it over thick thighs. And my mouth hung open at the sight of those legs because they were heavy, meaty, like ham hocks you can bite into deep, get a good mouthful of juicy flesh. She jiggled this way and that, struggling with the fabric, only to finally have it pop, sending a button flying. But the girl just wiggled her ass temptingly and scrunched the material around her waist before slyly dipping her fingers between her legs.

  Moaning, she lightly rubbed herself through her panties, the lacy pink fabric dark with her fluids.

  “Mmm,” she moaned. “Mmm.”

  And I almost creamed at the beguiling sight. Because her panties were tight up against that cunt, the soaking material coating her lips making the outline of her labia visible. And as I watched, the girl gushed even more, her crotch positively dripping now, drenched with nectar.

  But the girl wanted to take her time playing. Instead of going straight for her clit and rubbing one out, she pulled the fabric of her underwear taut so that it was a string bisecting her pussy libs, right up against her clit. And slowly, she pulled the material back and forth, rubbing that little bud with the wet fabric, rocking her hips slightly, enjoying the friction on her sensitive spot.

  “Ummm,” she hummed, eyes still closed. “Ummm.”

  But the brunette needed more than just a panty rub. Slowly my little vixen peeled off her underwear with delicate fingers, daintily stepping out of the soaked lace before dropping the cloth on the countertop. Oh god, what I wouldn’t give to have those panties on a lonely night, smelling them, sniffing them, flicking my tongue against the crotch.

  But the girl wasn’t wasting any time. With her panties down, she lightly traced a finger over her labia, caressing those puffy lips, stroking her sensitive flesh. Her finger grazed her clit and the brunette moaned, the sensation shooting quivers straight to her fingertips and toes, making her wobble in the stiletto heels. And slowly, oh so slowly, she pulled her vagina lips apart to gaze at herself in the mirror. Oh god, oh god. I could see everything from my position at the door, everything was reflected in the big mirror, her pink channel steaming, the pulsing swollen flesh glazed and beautiful, her hole so tempting and small contrasted with her big clit, aroused and poking out stiffly.

  And giggling slightly to herself, the brunette began playing with her nub. I watched as she rubbed gently with her finger at first, moving up and down, just slight caresses before rotating her wrist and beginning a circular motion. The pressure increased, her moans becoming louder as her finger went faster and faster. And I watched like a hungry dog as her other hand dipped lower, fingering her hole as she kept up the clit massage.

  Suddenly she slipped her index in, just up to her first knuckle. The penetration must have been amazing because she cried out loudly, her breasts flushed, tossing her hair back as orgasm overcame the brunette. Her curls shook, shoulders heaving as electric shocks ran straight from her cunt all over her body even as her hands kept pleasuring herself, moving furiously at her crotch, the cream running wetly down her thigh, a long trail descending to a shapely calf.

  And as the brunette calmed, her breathing becoming even again, her breasts rising heavily up and down in the mirror, I decided to make my move. Not losing a beat, I stepped fully into the restroom then, my big form dark, ominous in my suit, my expression bland despite the hard-on that was clearly visible.

  “Care to do that again, little girl?” I asked. “Because it’s an order … from the boss.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tammy

  I shrieked when a deep voice interrupted my self-play. Oh my god, what was going on? My eyes popped open to see an enormous man, his face in shadows, standing not ten feet away from me in the women’s bathroom.

  I screamed again, hastily pulling my skirt down, my fumbling fingers buttoning up my shirt. But it’s not so easy to get dressed when an intruder’s in the room and to my mortification, I tipped over, wobbly and off-balance in my high heels to land with an oomph on the bathroom floor. The air shot out of me with a gasp, I was like a fish gasping on the cold tile, breathless and stunned.

  The big man just laughed and strode over.

  “Need a hand baby girl?” he asked, bending over to offer me a big, square grip. I got a good look at him then. He was gorgeous, tall with black hair and gleaming blue eyes. Everything about him screamed money from the perfectly cut hair to the thousand dollar suit. Even his shoes were perfect, leather wing-tips that positively glowed in the low light of the bathroom.

  But I was too proud to take the hand that was offered. Despite the fact that I was a mess of jiggly curves and sprawling limbs, I managed to scramble into a seated position, pushing my unruly brown hair out of my face, still gasping and red-faced. I shot him a defensive look.

  “You’re in the women’s restroom you know,” I said icily.

  The man just threw back his head and laughed, showing off a strong jaw and a perfect, Crest-white smile.

  “I know,” he rumbled with a grin, “but ask me if it bothers me. Ask if it bothers me at all,” he said softly, looking at me closely.

  And I scrambled to my feet then. Damn, why hadn’t I worn something nicer today? My clothes, although clean, were a little threadbare and the damned skirt was super tight. I paused with trembling fingers to button my blue blouse trying to look as dignified as possible despite what had just happened.

  “I wasn’t aware that strange men felt comfortable in the women’s restroom,” I continued, doing my best to look haughty. With self-conscious hands, I raked my fingers through my curls
, brushing the locks behind my ears with soft strokes. The man stared at me, his eyes eating up every move like he was a lion stalking its prey.

  “I’m not strange man,” he said casually, his voice as soft as silk. “See? I have an ID badge, just like you.”

  And my heart dropped as he proffered a plastic ID card from his pocket. Oh shit, it was true. I caught a glimpse of his face and the company logo. It wasn’t fair. Even in his ID photo he was jaw-droppingly handsome, the planes of his face chiseled and cut, the blue eyes piercing.

  So I took a deep breath.

  “Well, can I ask what you’re doing in the basement?” I said pointedly. “I work on this floor, I’ve been here two months now and I’ve never seen you before.”

  The man just cocked his head at me.

  “How interesting because I was thinking of transferring to this level,” he said casually. “For the right reasons of course,” he added meaningfully.

  The right reasons? What did that mean? My face flamed but I wanted to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” I said busily. “Chained to the desk, the corporate rat race and all that.”

  And the big man just quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “Is that so? Chained to the desk?” he drawled. “Maybe I better go and see what you’ve been up to. But not before you tell me how often you’re in here playing your … ah, games,” he said with a sly smile.

  If I was pink before then I was a fire engine red now. My face felt like it was steaming, my cheeks almost melting from the humiliation, my heart inside dying from shame. But I tried to act casual, blow off his question.

  “Oh that was nothing,” I said carelessly, quickly sweeping my hair into a neat ponytail. “I just do that sometimes because … because … because my job is so stressful,” I rushed.