NoEasyWayOut

by Tara Tennyson

  There was a knock at the door. Was he back? But he never knocked.

  Her manager poked his head round. “All clear?” He came in and closed the door behind him. “You don’t look so good. Rough meeting?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.

  “I heard Daniel marched in demanding to see you, all riled up about something.”

  She nodded again.

  “But he left looking a lot happier?” He looked hopeful. “I caught up with him as he left and he said he was very satisfied, really quite happy with the way you’d handled things and he was willing to continue the contract as long as you were the one who worked on it.”

  She nodded again, finding her voice. “Yes. He just needed something done so I did what he wanted and he was fine.”

  “Thank goodness. I can’t tell you how much his account means to us—well to you, mainly. It’s what’s paying your wages and about three other peoples’. When I thought we were going to lose him, before he picked you, I was already making a list of who I was going to let go. Without his contract, three, maybe four of you wouldn’t be here anymore.” He shook his head. “Tough times. We have to keep Daniel happy, however difficult he can be.” He stood.

  She wondered how much he knew about Daniel’s demands and what it took to keep him happy.

  “Great. Well as long as he’s satisfied, that’s the main thing. Thanks, Ruthanne, you are doing a great job. I’m relying on you. We all are.”

  She managed to smile at him as he left. It looked like she might be seeing Daniel again after all.

  Chapter Six

  It was six-thirty on Valentine’s night. She still hadn’t made up her mind. She could tell him he was busy. It was so rude of him to just assume she would be free when he wanted to see her. She would text him now, tell him not to come here.

  She hesitated. But what if that meant she lost him as a client, lost her big office, her intern, her status? What if she lost her job? What if Katie or Daphne or Dermott or any of the others lost their jobs?

  But she couldn’t put up with him walking in and demanding sexual favors—in her office of all places—whenever he liked. It was outrageous. It was insulting, it was…

  She remembered the feeling of the carpet on her legs as she knelt in front of him, the sensation of leaning forward and taking him in her mouth. The way he’d talked to her, the thrill of arousal as she gave in to him as she did what he told her.

  She felt that familiar flutter between her legs just remembering it. She shook her head, angry with herself. What was wrong with her? It was demeaning and unpleasant. So why did she find it so arousing? How could she get so turned on when she knew it was wrong?

  The doorbell rang and her heart leapt into her mouth. He couldn’t be here already. It was way too early and she hadn’t even showered yet. Not that she was going out of course.

  She peeped through the spyhole. A man in uniform was standing there holding a big bunch of red roses.

  “Special delivery,” he shouted.

  She opened the door.

  “Ruthanne Ellis?”

  She nodded.

  “I need to see some ID.”

  “Really? For a bunch of flowers?”

  “Not for the flowers. For this.” He showed her a little box. “High-value gift. I’ll need ID and a signature. Company policy.”

  She closed the door, her heart still racing. Flowers? An expensive gift? It could only be one person. She could refuse them. But the flowers were beautiful and then she’d never know what was in the “high-value” box. She grabbed her handbag and found an ID and opened the door again.

  He checked it carefully and she signed the electronic device. He passed her the big bunch of flowers and the gift box.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, miss.” He left.

  Inside, she dropped the flowers, dying to look in the box. She read the name on the packaging. It was from Tiffany & Co, one of the most expensive jewelers there was. She pulled the ribbon and opened the box.

  Inside the tissue paper was a pair of earrings with sparkling drops. Were they diamonds? Real diamonds? They had to be. And if they were they must have cost a fortune. Her hand was shaking as she tried to get them out of the box and put them on. She looked at herself in the mirror. Diamond earrings. They looked wonderful.

  There was a card with the flowers. She opened it and in Daniel’s elegant flowing handwriting it read, “Thank you for a most satisfactory meeting this week. Please enjoy this little token of my esteem. I look forward to giving you the rest of the set later. Yours, Daniel.”

  The rest of the set? There was more? More diamonds? Her heart caught in her throat. She touched the earrings. She’d have to give them back. She had to. She glanced in the mirror again. But they looked so pretty. And they suited her so well. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt just to see him again once or twice and then she could tell him it was over. Where was the harm in that?

  She looked at the flowers and saw the promise of romance in the dark tight petals of the red rosebuds. There were at least four dozen red roses there. She didn’t have a vase big enough so she sat the whole bunch in the sink and ran some water in to keep them going until later. She was suddenly anxious to get ready to meet Daniel. Daniel who it seemed had a very generous and a very romantic side to him.

  The car came for her on time. Daniel sat in the back looking elegant as ever, his blue eyes the color of the sea on a cold, bright day. He complimented her dress and her hair and admired the earrings. “Diamonds suit you. But you need more of them, don’t you think?”

  She just laughed in reply, not wanting to seem too eager.

  They arrived at La Maison and it was even better than Reynard’s. Every table had a glamorous, beautiful couple seated at it. There were red roses everywhere. She tried not to stare as she caught a glimpse of famous face after famous face.

  This was better than sitting at home alone eating chocolates. This was the life she had dreamed of having and if the price she had to pay was Daniel’s strange and sometimes disturbing demands then perhaps she should just pay that price.

  They took their seats—just one more of the beautiful couples, she thought—feeling as though she had joined the in-crowd. Daniel was as attentive as ever, ordering her food for her, feeding her little bits from his own plate, delighting in her exclamations of pleasure at each delicious morsel.

  Ruthanne relaxed. So Daniel was unconventional. So what? After five glasses of champagne, she felt sure she could handle it.

  After the meal the car was waiting and they drove to a hotel. “I hope you don’t mind,” said Daniel. “I took the liberty of booking a room for us. It is a special evening, after all.”

  Ruthanne wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not. Spend the whole night with Daniel? Perhaps he was getting serious about her. But she hadn’t brought anything, no spare clothes or makeup, not even a toothbrush.

  “It’s a lovely hotel,” he said, seeing the concern on her face, as if her main concern would be the quality of the accommodations.

  She agreed to go, not sure if it was the champagne talking or if she really wanted to send the night with him. But when they arrived at the hotel and she found out it was the Chelsea she was pleased she had agreed. It was a famously luxurious hotel—the kind of place people like her never normally went. She wondered in passing why they didn’t go to his home but perhaps Daniel thought this was more romantic.

  The suite was enormous but what caught her eye immediately were the blood-red rose petals everywhere—sprinkled over the bed, scattered over the thick cream carpet, drifting everywhere. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked around, thinking this was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  There was a huge bed with the white sheets covered with red rose petals, flowers everywhere and candles already lit around the room, giving a soft, gentle light. They sat on the sofa and Daniel poured the champagne that was waiting in the cooler and fed her strawberries from the dish next to it.<
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  She sipped champagne, looking around the room and trying to commit it to memory, knowing that without Daniel she would never have seen anything like it.

  Daniel had brought a bag with him and he opened it. He took out two gift-wrapped parcels—one tiny, one more substantial. “You look so beautiful in those earrings. I thought you might like something to go with them.”

  She started to open the little box, her hands shaking. Could it be more diamonds? Really?

  He put his hand over hers. “But you can only have this one if you promise to wear what’s in this bag.” He gestured to the other gift bag.

  Ruthanne felt sure it contained some kind of lingerie. She was happy to wear it. Daniel had impeccable taste.

  She nodded, smiling at Daniel, wanting to open the box and see what was inside.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she said, smiling.

  She opened the little box and it was a delicate bracelet that sparkled, the stones catching the light.

  “Yes,” he said, guessing what was in her mind. “It’s diamond, of course. Nothing but the best for you.”

  He leaned in and helped her to fix the clasp and she turned her wrist this way and that, admiring the way it looked. A diamond bracelet. She’d never had anything as precious as this before. With this and the rose petals, the candlelight and the champagne, it seemed that Daniel was really showing his romantic side.

  “Take the other bag. Go into the bathroom and don’t come out until you’re wearing everything.”

  She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She looked around, running her fingers over the acres of marble and looking at the enormous shower—surely big enough for three or four people—and a freestanding bathtub. She examined the toiletries. They looked wonderful. She wondered whether she’d be able to take them home with her. Surely they’d fit in her handbag?

  She sat on the little sofa—a sofa in a bathroom!—and opened the bag. She had been expecting something lacy and feminine but it was all black and all made of gleaming black rubber or latex.

  She pulled out the items, looking at each one with a sinking feeling. There was a corset, stockings, panties and some things which looked like they would buckle around her wrists and ankles. She got dressed slowly, leaving her own clothes on the sofa. The corset had an impossibly tight waist and she squeezed herself into it, noticing the way it transformed her figure into an hourglass. It finished at the top of her thighs and she noticed in horror it had holes cut out for her breasts.

  She looked down. She looked so naked, so wrong with her breasts spilling out pale and soft against the tight black latex. It was embarrassing, obscene. She finished doing it up, pulling the zipper all the way to the top so the high neckband with a clip on the back fitted snugly around her throat. It wasn’t what she had hoped for at all.

  Then there was a pair of crotchless panties. Pointless, she told herself but put them on anyway. And a pair of thigh-high fishnet stockings, the sort she always associated with prostitutes.

  She put that thought out of her mind and concentrated on the buckled straps, putting one on each wrist and one on each ankle, hoping she’d gotten it right. Each had a clip on them, like at the neck of her corset. Would he be tying her up somehow? Restraining her?

  She felt the nerves set in—nerves and a flutter of excitement. What would he do to her? Would she like it? Would she want him to do it? She put her shoes back on and looked at herself in the mirror.

  It wasn’t her. It was a tiny-waisted, big-breasted sex object staring back at her, the latex gleaming softly, the fishnets finishing two inches below the bottom of the corset, her pale thighs curving out over the thigh-highs. Her thighs, her breasts looked so naked, so pale and so soft against the blackness of everything else.

  She couldn’t wear this. She couldn’t let Daniel or anyone see her like this. She thought about taking it all off but the diamond bracelet was sparkling on her wrist. She wanted it. She’d never get another one. And what was so bad about wearing these clothes? Lots of people wore stuff like this, she told herself. It was really nothing unusual, nothing to get worried about. But this would be their first time, their first time properly and she was dressed like a fetishistic hooker.

  She glanced in the mirror again. Katie would never believe it. Suddenly Ruthanne felt determined to go through with it, diamonds or no diamonds. To do what Daniel wanted, to be the kind of girl who would do anything and not be boring, sensible Ruthanne anymore. For once she’d do something even Katie had never done.

  She rearranged her hair and put more lipstick on, choosing a deeper shade of red that seemed to go with the black clothes. She took a deep breath. Did she look ridiculous? Would Daniel like what he saw? She opened the door.

  Daniel was lounging on the sofa, champagne glass in hand.

  He stared at her as she opened the door.

  She folded her arms over her naked breasts as she walked toward him.

  “You look amazing. Amazing. I think we’ve finally found your style.” He chuckled to himself.

  She went to sit next to him, anxious for him to stop staring at her.

  “No. Walk around the room. I like watching you. And put your arms down or I’ll have to tie them down.”

  So she walked slowly to the bed, to the window and back, aware of her breasts jiggling, of her naked thighs and the crotchless panties.

  “You really do look good. Have some more champagne. Drink it standing up.”

  She stood in front of him, holding the glass and aware of his eyes on her.

  He reached out and gripped one of her nipples.

  “Ouch!” She pulled away.

  “Naughty.” He slapped her breast. “Let me touch you. You can’t dress like that and then not let me touch you.”

  Her breast still stinging, she stood still while he gripped her nipple again between his thumb and finger and rolled it firmly, then pulled it away from her body, pulling her whole breast away. He let her breast fall and looked at it. “You see, you squeal but you like it. Look at your nipple.”

  She looked down. It was tight and hard.

  “Now make the other one the same.”

  She hesitated, not sure what to do. He slapped her breast then grinned at her.

  “Just playing. Come on, use this.”

  He handed her an ice cube from the bucket. Feeling self-conscious, she rubbed it over her nipple, watching it tighten and contract.

  “Good. That’s better. We are going to have some fun tonight, perhaps more fun than you’ve ever had before. But I won’t hurt you. Well, not much. Red is the color of Valentine’s Day. And that’s the color you’ll be when I’ve finished with you but don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.” He laughed.

  She opened her mouth to protest but he carried on. “Did you like your gift?” he asked, his eyes on her bracelet, which glittered against the leather wristband.

  She nodded.

  “And I’ve got a necklace that matches the bracelet if you’re interested.” He reached out and grazed his knuckles against her erect nipples as he spoke.

  A necklace—more diamonds! She knew she wanted them. And she knew she wanted to be one of those women who had exciting sex lives, who did outrageous things, who were showered with diamonds and rose petals. The kind of woman who men would do anything for and it looked like it might all be coming true. She smiled and sat down next to him.

  “Good girl. Now let’s begin.”

  Chapter Seven

  The first thing he did was to pull her arms behind her back and clip her wrists together. It wasn’t uncomfortable but she couldn’t use her hands at all and she suddenly felt a bit helpless and vulnerable.

  “More champagne?”

  She nodded but realized she couldn’t pick up her glass.

  “Here, let me.” He smiled. “Kneel down in front of me. It will be easier that way.”

  She down sat in front of him. Kneeling like this made her feel like a
servant or a slave. Just like when she knelt in front of him in her office, she felt a throb of arousal, a warmth between her legs.

  He held the glass to her lips and she drank. But he kept tipping the glass so it ran out of her mouth and down her cheeks and chin on to her chest, dripping down her breasts.

  “Silly girl. You’ve spilled it. Stay there.”

  She knelt on the floor. He got a towel from the bathroom and laid it over the seat of the sofa. “Now dry yourself.”

  She wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t pick up the towel. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.

  “Come on. Come and rub yourself dry on here. “

  She crawled forward until she was pressing against the soft white towel. It felt warm against her wet, naked breasts.

  “Rub yourself.” He stood and watched her as she wriggled against the towel, trying to make sure she was dry.

  She could feel him watching, knowing he was staring at the way her bottom was moving, at the way she was exposing her thighs, her buttocks and more to him as she rubbed her chest.

  She felt the soft toweling over her breasts and nipples. Was it that or being told what to do that was making her feel like this? Something was causing the flutter between her legs. She could feel the dampness, the slickness inside her growing.

  “That’s better. We don’t want you wet—well, not everywhere.” He led her over to the big full-length mirror. Her breasts looked pink and the nipples were already hard after their wetting and drying.

  He stood behind her, reaching around so he could watch himself touching her and so she could watch him too.

  He held one nipple tightly between his fingers, pinching it while he pulled and played with the other. He grasped the nipple tightly and pulled it away from her body, stretching out her breast, then let it fall. “Stay there. I’m going to give you bigger nipples.” He turned to his bag.

  She wondered what he meant. She looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like Ruthanne Ellis anymore. She looked unconventional, perverted even. She liked this look. He was right. Was it because she was had drunk far too much or did it really suit her? Even if it wasn’t really her it felt good to wear this, to be someone else, someone who wasn’t scared to try things just for a few hours.