Poor Little Rich Slut

by Dusseau, Lizbeth

  On the fourth week, there were five people in my office when I took his call. I’d totally forgotten about our ‘phone date’ until I picked up the receiver and answered.

  “Well, hi there,” I said in a sunny voice, while trying to disguise my increased agitation.

  “And hi to you, my slutty heiress.” He said it so derisively that I couldn’t help but squirm in my chair from the ensuing arousal. Of course, squirming drew attention to my sore genitals and I had to hold back my wince. Everyone was looking at me waiting for me to hang up the phone—this was a very important meeting.

  “You know this is not a great time, Garrison. I’m in a meeting with the layout and production heads.” At least they knew it was Garrison on the line.

  “Really? Hum. This could get really embarrassing for you, huh.”

  Damn his demented mind! “But I’m sure it won’t,” I assured him.

  “No? I think by now you would have figured out that I’ll be calling on Friday about this time.”

  “You know I didn’t remember that.” I stared at my staff, giving them a look that showed my impatience.

  “How about I let you off the hook?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “But there’s a price.”

  “Oh?”

  “After they leave, go to my office and get my camera out of the bottom drawer of my desk. It’s locked but you can find the key in a small compartment in the Oriental box that’s on the third shelf of the étagère. Get up on my desk, sitting, legs splayed and take a picture for me…I want to see the rings close up. You can email the picture to my private account.”

  I could have come up with a dozen snappy retorts in reply to that mouthful of instructions, but I was too aghast to even think. With five people still waiting for me to end the conversation and get on with the meeting, all I could do was acquiesce. “I’ll be sure it’s done.”

  “Are they curious?”

  “I don’t know, but by now, I imagine so.”

  His laugh was deep and wicked. I could feel him hovering over the room like a demon to torment me. I made every effort not to blush as he hung up. But my cheeks already felt warm and I could only hope that the five curious associates didn’t notice me blush.

  The next day Garrison had the picture of my pierced, naked cunt in his email.

  Friday of the sixth week, the call came in as previous, although this time Garrison called from the airport. Business in Japan concluded early and he wanted me to wait at the office for him to arrive.

  “Use my office, lock the door if you like, and strip down. I want you bent over, penitent and ready for me when I get there. You’ll find a pair of handcuffs and a leather paddle in the second drawer of my desk. You can put the cuffs on yourself, behind your back.”

  “Put them on when?” I asked appalled.

  I could sense him looking at his watch. “What? It’s 5:30 now. I’ll be there by 6:15 . The office should be almost cleared out by now. Soon as we hang up you can get started.”

  “And if someone should find me there before you arrive?” I asked, anxiously.

  “Lock the door.”

  “What about the cleaning lady?”

  “You take your chances there, but she normally doesn’t come in until after eight.”

  I could feel the panic rising in my gut. “And what if you get caught in traffic? What if you’re in an accident and don’t show? What if I’m stuck here not knowing?” I rattled on. I desperately didn’t want to do this.

  “Then you’ll manage. But none of that’s going to happen, Heiress. Have faith. And you’d better be ready for me by 6:00 . I’m making pretty good time.”

  “What? You’re already on the way!”

  “You have no idea how close I am.” I could hear the veiled threat beneath his chuckling comment. I shuddered with an exhilarating combination of excitement and fear. “If you’re not ready for me, slut, I might just march you right in front of a few of those co-workers you so hate and see what they think of your burning behind.”

  Ah! A burning behind. I couldn’t wait to feel the heat of his hand on my bottom. My pussy couldn’t wait for sex. But I wasn’t about to give him an excuse to live up to that last threat. I didn’t think he’d dare. But with Garrison, I couldn’t be sure.

  The next hour was the worst of my life. Though most of the offices on our floor had been vacated for the weekend, there were two marketing execs still busy on the phone when I slipped into Garrison’s office and locked the door behind me. I sighed, trying to settle myself, but by then, just fifteen minutes after his call, my desire was roaring hot, overwhelming my body and my sanity.

  I hadn’t any time to get used to the idea. But then maybe if I’d had more time, I would have chickened out.

  Checking the clock, it was 5:45 . Any minute… I worried. Any minute he’d show. I stripped off my red suit and pink shirt, although I left my black garter belt and stockings on, hoping Garrison would appreciate the sexy look. I discarded my panties along with the rest of my clothes, then went for the Chinese box on the étagère to find the key to his desk.

  Just as promised there were handcuffs and a leather paddle in his second desk drawer. There was also rope, clothespins, a Ping-Pong paddle and a coiled, braided whip. I nearly shrieked when I touched that item; for a moment the tight braid looked like real snakeskin. After retrieving the items he wanted, I slammed the drawer closed, afraid to look any further.

  The hands on the old-fashioned clock face moved smoothly toward the top of the hour. 6:00. Did I dare wait any longer to put the handcuffs on? I listened at the door for a few more minutes, dreading the idea of sealing my fate once the metal cuffs locked in place.

  Everything was quiet beyond the door, though oddly enough, I was tempted to peek outside just to see if those occupied offices were now empty. But then, I heard footsteps in the corridor, so I grabbed the cuffs, locked one around my left wrist, then putting my hand behind me, fiddled with the second cuff until it securely imprisoned my right hand.

  An instant of panic rolled through my body. I was about to cry. What if that wasn’t him? What if he doesn’t show?

  Of course he’ll show, you ninny! My sane mind argued back.

  The telephone rang. Not the business line, but the personal one that came right into his office. Did I dare answer?

  When the ringing stopped, I took a deep breath. Any minute. Any minute, I repeated as if that mantra would quiet my frayed nerves.

  The phone rang again and I still hadn’t the guts to answer.

  It was almost 6:45 .

  I waited in the quiet of the office for another ten minutes. I should have been poised as ordered over the front of his desk, but I could hardly hold the position for more than a minute before I struggled out of it and waited, ears open by the desk for the sound of Garrison’s key in the lock.

  It was 6:58 when the phone rang again. It rang twice and I finally scooted around and pressed the speaker button, saying, “Mr. Garrison’s not here.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s been delayed.” His voice came back at me.

  “Delayed? No!” I cried.

  “I won’t be long… been trying to call, trying to see if you’d have the nerve to answer.”

  “Well, I have.”

  “So, you’re naked.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “In handcuffs?”

  “Yes, in handcuffs.”

  “Ready for me, bending over the desk?”

  “I will be once you’re off the phone.”

  “Just didn’t want you to worry,” he said, and his cell phone clicked off.

  Although I still had no more idea about when he’d arrive than before he called, I quickly made my way back to the front of the desk and decided that at the first sound of footsteps I’d bend over as ordered.

  I focused so much thought energy into the hallway beyond Garrison’s door that I failed to pick up on any other audible cues. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Garrison app
eared.

  “What the fuck!” Clichéd as it seems, I almost fainted at the sight of him. The adrenalin must have pumped me up so high that I thought I’d seen a ghost. I sank onto the desk, completely forgetting his instructions about presenting my ass for his inspection. “You’ve been here all along?” was the only thing I could guess.

  “No. But there’s another door in the bathroom, opens into the hallway by the freight elevator.”

  “You scared me to death!”

  “Maybe if you’d been draped over the desk like I wanted you, you’d have been less freaked out.”

  “Sorry,” was all I could manage.

  “Well, you can bend over now,” he tersely ordered.

  I’m not sure the angry grimace on his face was real, but it certainly had me worried now that the shock was over.

  It was 7:15 and I’d just spent the most anxious hour of my life.

  Bent over Garrison’s desk, I got spanked and spanked hard for most of the next hour. Of course, he took a break now and then to remove his coat and put away a briefcase full of papers—all while I remained poised and ready for more. He came back for more again and again. Again and again the leather paddle peppered its way over my bare skin. From top to bottom, side to side; I’d never had such a thorough spanking.

  It stung; it hurt like hell, but those brief pauses between rounds of fierce and steady smack after biting smack only made me ready for the next, as the warm burning feeling on my bottom turned me on fire. After every series of swats, he massaged my ass and laid on a few smacks of his hand. I began to ooze with arousal then. Although Garrison wasn’t much interested in my arousal.

  Eight o’clock on the button, there was a knock on the door. Garrison was taking a break from my punishment but he didn’t bother to answer the door.

  “Ooo, sorry,” I heard the cleaning lady say when she spotted me. Thankfully, my head was turned, the lights in the office were dim and she probably didn’t see who was naked, handcuffed and being punished.

  “We’ll be through shortly,” he told her and she backed out with her cleaning cart clattering against the doorjamb.

  “You get her good if she’s been bad, Mr. Tate. Some women need that.”

  “They certainly do.”

  Oh! The shame of it! What if she saw… how could I ever…

  It wasn’t but a few seconds later that another knock on the door brought another visitor to our scene. My head was still turned away from the door and I closed my eyes. I didn’t dare look to see who it was.

  “Glad you’re still here to see this,” Garrison said, to the unknown someone in the room.

  The man cleared his throat—the only indication that it was a man at all.

  “You needn’t worry, my friend here will keep your secret, Eleanor.”

  He was giving away my name!

  “In fact, my friend is going to have a go at your ass, then take a look at your piercings. He’s never seen genital rings quite like yours.” A moment later a blindfold slipped over my eyes. Even if I’d wanted to see the man, I wasn’t allowed that liberty.

  The unseen guest took over my paddling. Not only did he take over, he finished off the punishment with a flourish, using force more ferocious than Garrison’s heavy-handed style. The change put me over the edge, sweeping aside my sexual arousal, and when he didn’t stop the hard-hitting smacks, the brutal treatment became too much to bear in silence. I began to cry, and was soon overcome by enormous, convulsive sobs. My body twisted in anguish. Screams of my distress bounced off the walls, and when it was over I cried quietly, with my tears soaking the thick cloth blindfold.

  Garrison’s unknown accomplice stepped in-between my legs after he finished punishing me.

  “You think your ass is ready?” Garrison asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head and spoke through a choked sob. Did he have any idea how miserable I was? I wanted to object—a lot of good that would have done—but I was too tired and I sensed he’d have no mercy. He was holding me to my agreement.

  “Why don’t we see?” he said.

  A pair of fingers slid along my crevice, then ran straight into the vaginal piercing, which was only barely sore by now. I cringed, though it wasn’t particularly painful. Moving deeper into my channel, his fingers gathered my juices and swathed the opening above. He caressed it, working the opening with his digits until he decided I was ready.

  I lurched forward when the man plunged into me—he was smaller than I expected. I guess all men are not as well-endowed as Garrison Tate. Not only that, the man was so horny, he was done before I had time to get used to his hard thrusts. He pulled out, still not saying a word, and I sighed relieved.

  I was hardly functional when the two men pulled me up on the desk so I was sitting on my handcuffed hands. They spread my legs and carefully inspected my rings. I winced each time they tugged them; although they barely hurt anymore.

  “Still sore?” Garrison asked.

  “A little.”

  “You’re taking care of them?”

  “Yes.” I snuffed.

  “Good girl.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, affectionately.

  I sensed the two men draw away and then heard them muttering at the door.

  When Garrison returned to my side and pulled the blindfold away, my unknown assailant was gone.

  “Do I know him?” I asked.

  “You do.”

  “Oh, why would you!”

  “He knows, don’t worry.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Knows about you, about women like you.”

  “What do you mean he knows about me!” I was too damned tired to be mad, but this was an outrage. “How the hell is that discreet!”

  “He knows because I told him, because he does these things to women, including his wife, who’s virtually a sex slave. If you can trust me, you can certainly trust him.”

  “But he works in this building?”

  “Yes, right here on the 6th floor.”

  “And I’m going to see him every day?”

  “More than likely.”

  I’d calmed, but I wasn’t happy. “I don’t know about this, Garrison. I just don’t…”

  “Shussssssssssh,” he put a finger over my lips and pulled me up so I was sitting squarely on his desk. His hands went around me, finding the locked handcuffs, and without having to look, he threaded the key in the lock and set me free. His chest was close, warm next to my face. I drank him in like a big gulp of brandy. My arms went around him and I laid my cheek on his chest. Beneath me my sore bottom throbbed—although I didn’t mind that anymore. The sensuous feeling registered somewhere between exhilaration and happiness. I didn’t want to despise him; I didn’t want to run from him or be mad. I didn’t want a fight; I didn’t have it in me now and I certainly didn’t want to get geared up for one later. But I certainly didn’t understand what was happening to me. Why I was doing all these things, letting him do all these things to me as if I’d lost my mind. If he questioned me about the night, I knew exactly how I’d answered, or at least, I should answer if I was being truthful.

  I was confused, sad, happy, pissed and aroused all at once.

  But being overwhelmed and unable to fight off the desire in me, I imagined it was best to let the whole thing ride and not worry. Was that even sane in face of the things that Garrison ordered me to do?

  Probably not.

  “Why did you do that to me?” This was the only objection I could muster when I finally found my voice again. I still cuddled in his comforting arms.

  “Tell me you didn’t like it, Ellie, and it won’t happen again. If you want to be indignant and miserable, go ahead, but I’m not about to believe your lousy whining.”

  “I’m not whining,” I said.

  “You sure?” He pushed me back so he could see my face.

  “No. You’re the boss when it comes to this, Mr. Tate,” I said, regaining some of my sassy spirit. “And I’m your dutiful pleb
e.”

  He smiled. “Get dressed, slut, we’re going to dinner.”

  Chapter 6

  I could hardly make it through dinner without going stark raving mad with desire. As I’d dressed in Garrison’s office, he made a few alterations in my attire—like pocketing my panties for safekeeping and making me leave my blouse half open, so that when I moved, the soft insides of my breasts were plainly visible. By current standards, I was still fairly demure in my attire, but for me the small changes only augmented the fierce fire I felt burning in my tormented crotch. My asshole ached a bit, but not unpleasantly so. When Garrison told me to park my naked butt on the leatherette seat in the restaurant, I smiled, feeling some of his mischievousness wear off on me. Any anger I still harbored fell away, replaced by sheer exhilaration.

  “Here,” he said, as we were settling in at one of his favorite bistros. He’d ordered scampi and fried oysters and salad for both of us. He then placed something on the table and pushed it toward me, his hand covering whatever it was. Underneath, he unveiled a string of silicone beads, each about an inch in diameter.

  “In your cunt,” he said.

  “Now?”

  “Now.” He smiled and sat back watching my face change from elated to worried to slightly panicked within the next sixty seconds.

  Realizing that the waiter was headed toward us with our breadsticks and wine, I snatched the beads from the table and held them in my hand.

  The damn scoundrel couldn’t do anything but grin a mile wide at my distress. By the time the waiter left, I was smiling myself and thinking sexually, while trying to decide exactly how I was going to discreetly insert the beads into my cunt. It only made matters worse that I was facing the dining room, not facing the wall.

  “Could we switch seats?” I asked.

  “Not on your life.”

  Taking a deep breath, I adjusted the large cloth napkin on my nap, then reached in-between my slightly parted thighs with one hand clutching the end of the five-bead string. I’m not sure how it looked from afar, or if anyone noticed. Perhaps I have the low lighting in the restaurant to thank for being able to pull off my lewd crime rather easily. Once I started, it only took about thirty seconds to have the five beads shoved inside my cunt. I felt quite full as if it were a cock there and not beads.