by Adira August
1st SESSION SUN 18TH. PICK UP 10:30AM. RTRN BY 5PM. PICK LOCATN NEAR YR APT. CAR WILL MEET U.
Avia felt a pleasant hollowing in her stomach. Her heart sped up. She texted him back.
BUS STOP HAMPDEN AND COLE, NB. LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, SIR.
She wondered what else he knew about her body that she didn’t.
Ben grinned at the face of his phone. She’s looking forward to it? Sir?
He hoped that meant Avia had done some research and wasn’t quite as apprehensive about what he’d promised for her first Session as she had been. He briefly considered changing Sunday’s itinerary and moving Avia’s spanking up to first on the Session’s agenda. He’d placed it last so she wouldn’t be anxious at the beginning and he’d have time to gain more of her trust.
But he rejected the idea almost as soon as he had it. There were good reasons for the interview-lunch-spanking itinerary he’d laid out. He was taking her on a journey, and he wanted to show her the sights in a certain order. But then, he might have to rethink it all after the meeting he was about to have. He shut the phone off and slipped it into his pocket.
“Berthe is a treasure you don’t deserve,” Giddy pronounced.
“Berthe possesses a treasure, considering what I pay her,” Ben said. He surveyed the decimated remains of what had been steak and eggs. Or, in this case, filet mignon and shirred eggs in brandy sauce with enormous butter drenched biscuits. The addition of fruit smoothies, chocolate croissants and pecan sticky buns would have defeated a lesser appetite than Giddy’s.
They’d eaten on the screened porch, with a view into the back garden. A Canadian jay entertained them with his morning bath and a few hummingbirds hovered about a single feeder a few feet away above the porch railing. The tiny buzzing blurs ignored the men, battling it out for feeder space.
“Does turning that phone off mean you’re finally going to tell me why you’re here?” Giddy asked.
“I want to understand more about Alpha male, Alpha female relationships,” Ben answered.
Giddy flashed a wide grin. “You’ve met someone.” Then he laughed out loud. “She must be something, you just locked in the ‘great impassive face.’ At me.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Gid. Ever occur to you she might be a business connection?”
“Then you wouldn’t need the impassive face.” Giddy said. “Tell me what you want to know and don’t say - ”
“- Everything,” Ben said. Giddy rolled his eyes. “About relationships between the genders.”
“Sex,” Giddy said.
“Everything,” Ben reiterated.
“I’m essentially a primatologist, you know, so that’s mostly sex.”
Okay,” Ben shrugged. “Sex, then.”
“You audited most of my classes and you’re a smart man, Benedict,” Giddy said seriously, the use of Ben’s full name signaling a limit was being pushed. “Stop screwing around and tell me what you want to know.”
Godammit, Ben thought. It wasn’t that he thought Xavier Gideon would post the conversation on Tumblr, but Ben had always carefully guarded his privacy. He was once called “the most genial enigma in America” in a magazine feature on eligible billionaires. But that strategy wasn’t serving him well, at the moment.
“I want to know if an Alpha female would ever submit totally to an Alpha male.” Ben said.
“Oh, okay.” Giddy said, relaxing back into his chair. “ Well, of course. It’s her goal, after all.”
“It’s her goal?” Ben repeated, brows coming together, not understanding.
“Let’s use pan troglodytes as a model.” Giddy said, referring to the larger species of chimpanzees. “You already know that males and females have different reproductive strategies, both aimed at passing on their genes to as many future generations as possible.”
“Sure,” Ben replied. He did remember this, at least, from class. “Males want to have sex with as many females as possible as often as possible. Females want a strong male to produce strong offspring and keep them safe.”
“Right, very broadly,” Giddy said. “You also recall how a male gets to be the Alpha male?”
“They fight for it,” Ben replied.
“No! And that error leads to a fatal flaw in understanding. They do not fight for it. They compete for it,” Giddy corrected him. “Chimps run around and make noise and their hair stands on end to make themselves look bigger. They shake branches and screech and jump and generally try to put on the biggest and most intimidating display.
“When the other males all back down, behave submissively to one of the chimps, he’s Alpha male. Know what his reward is?”
Ben shook his head.
“He gets to be first in line when the Alpha female comes into estrus. That’s what he gets.” Giddy finished. “Most of the time, he waves a branch and she turns around and bends over. Lower status females don’t even need the branch waving.”
Ben considered this. “You said ‘most of the time.’ What happens if she refuses him?”
Giddy shrugged. “Generally, he’s going to try to convince her by display. But, if the Alpha female rejects him, he’s pretty much done. She steals his mojo. Another high status chimp waiting in the wings is going to challenge him and take her. And be the new Alpha male.
“See, Ben, the females really have all the power. Probably why we rape, kill and enslave so many of ours.” Giddy drank off his coffee. “But that’s not the discussion you came here for.”
“You’re saying she wants to submit, but only to an Alpha and only one she approves of?” Ben asked.
“Correct. Submission to the Alpha male is key to the survival of her genes. The Alpha isn’t just bigger or louder. He’s also usually smarter. He’s the one who can best protect her and her offspring.”
“So how does that work with people? With birth control, women don’t need to find protectors for offspring. Men don’t compete and take over a troop.”
Gideon laughed out loud, again. This time, the booming laugh that carried out into hallways of university buildings and across backyards of neighborhoods.
“Sorry,” he said, finally subsiding. “You are a billionaire. You gathered money by out-competing others. From motorcycle gangs to the U.S. Senate, men compete for status. And what they expect for that, is the pick of the females.”
“You’re saying we do what we do because of these instinctive needs, even if we don’t know it?” Ben asked.
“That’s oversimplifying because we have so many influences, but, yes, in great part those instincts drive our actions. And the Alpha female will not only submit, she’ll be the one to submit most eagerly if she finds an Alpha male who proves himself worthy,” Giddy finished, with a twinkle in his eye.
“So,” he said, leaning forward, “How you going to prove yourself to her, Ben Hart?”
Looking forward to it, Sir. Avia’s last text flashed into his consciousness. For the first time, Ben Hart felt the smallest flicker of self-doubt. How will you prove yourself to her? Your Alpha female? If she was looking forward to it, he’d have to be sure he gave her something worth anticipating.
Irene Mackin knew a lot about Leonard Randall before she hired him. She knew where he’d gone to law school (Harvard) and what kind of family he came from (wealthy) and how much he liked it when women begged him to not punish them. How much it turned him on when they writhed and screamed and cried. How fast he came once he’d finally had enough of humiliating them and stuck his short fat dick into the orifice of his choosing.
She knew all that because she’d not only researched him online, she’d paid for the time and interviewed the last three hookers he’d used. “Used” being the most accurate descriptor for Randall and what he did with women. She not only knew all that before she hired him, she hired him because of it.
She now stood before him, clutching her handbag, shifting back and forth more and more nervously, clicking the purse open and closed, trembling as he raged on about how he told her not
to release that letter to anyone.
“But I didn’t,” she cried in her choked little girl voice. “Please, Sir, Mr. Randall, I swear, I didn’t. It had to be someone around here!” But she looked away and down too quickly, as if she were trying to hide something. Lenny also liked it when she made him feel very smart.
“You lying cunt! Look at me when I talk to you!” He grabbed the purse and tossed it on the other chair. “Stop fiddling with that!” It was open and her cell phone slid out and thumped to the floor.
She stared up at him with big frightened eyes, her chest heaving, pushing her full breasts against the red fabric of her blouse. She thought of ice and her nipples hardened on cue. He stopped ranting and stared at her breasts and she squirmed as if she hated this.
Lenny was fair-skinned and the blotchy pink sexual flush that spread from his chest and up his neck was a perfectly clear indicator to Irene of exactly where he was in his arousal. Lenny was getting hard.
“What the fuck is this, you look like a whore!” He grabbed her chin and used his fat thumb to smear her bright red lipstick all around her mouth. He was starting to pant. “Clear my desk. I think you need to be reminded who’s in charge around here.”
Her eyes went wider in alarm. “Oh, no, I, I’m sorry, please, not now, not here!” She looked wildly around at the open doors to the hallways.
He grabbed her arm and threw her toward the desk. “Do as you’re told or I’ll leave these doors wide open and we’ll see who hears you and shows up to watch. You’re a slut at heart, you’d love your bare ass hanging out for all the boys to see. Maybe I’ll let them take turns.”
Irene let herself sob in a quiet choked way while she moved the things off his desk to a conference table. As she leaned over to pick up the last thing, his laptop, his hand met her ass so hard he knocked her onto the desktop.
“Stop sniveling, you know you deserve this.” He snarled. “Don’t you? … Say it!”
“Ye-yes, Sir,” she said. Irene finished removing the laptop, hoping he’d get on with it before one of the other partners came in and stopped him.
He took off his coat and threw it over a chair back. Walked out to reception and locked the outer door. Came back and locked his inner door. “Lay over the desk.” He rolled up both sleeves.
Irene whimpered and bent over the wide smooth surface. She knew he loved this part. “Pull your skirt up to your waist. NO!” He stopped her as she started to rise. “Keep your face on the desk.”
So she started the dance that left him beet-red and panting. She reached back awkwardly and started working the slim tight skirt up, gathering fabric, wriggling her ass, lifting one hip then another to get the fabric over the edge of the desk, slowly revealing the tops of her stockings and the black garters that held them up. She could hear him wheezing now.
Don’t die of a heart attack, you fatuous asshole, she thought. Not, yet. She stopped just before her skirt got to her panties, and begged in her most piteous voice, “Oh, please, please don’t make me do this, Sir. I’ll be good, please, not today!”
“You defy me one more time, you dumb bitch, and I’ll use the strap,” he growled at her, his voice thick from lust. “Do as you’re told! NOW!”
She let him hear another choked sob, and wriggled her ass a little more as she got the skirt up and over her lushly curved bottom. She was wearing a black thong.
“Jeez - you are a cheap whore at heart, aren’t you?”
He moved around to a drawer of his desk and unlocked it, taking out several padded restraints and tossing them on the desktop.
“I ordered these from your ex-boyfriend’s website. Supposed to be very comfortable for the wearer.” He fastened two of the restraints to her wrists, tightening them down with velcro closures. “Well, if they won’t hurt you, they won’t mark you. This’ll just be our secret. You’re used to keeping secrets for the men you fuck, right?... Right?”
She pulled her arms back. “No, oh, please, Mr. Randall, please don’t tie me down, please. I promise, promise I won’t move, please don’t do that!!”
He yanked her arms out and attached the restraints to the desk legs by the long tethers. Her arms stretched and spread. He was smiling. “Remember what I said I’d do if you defied me again?”
She moaned and wept. “Ye-ye-yes. Yes, Sir.”
“What?” He moved around to her feet and secured each ankle to the nearest desk leg. Now her legs were spread wide and she could barely move. “WHAT?” He shouted.
“You said, oh no, oh no, you said ... you’d use ... the strap,” the last barely whispered.
“Oh, yes. That’s what girls get who think they know better than I do. Who think they’re smarter than I am.” He grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and a small towel from the drawer. “They get the strap across their bare bottoms.” He bunched up the towel and shoved it into her mouth. And put the pillow under her face.
“These walls are fairly well-soundproofed, but you’re going to be screaming soon, so do it into the pillow. Just to be sure no one hears.”
Finally, she thought. Just get on with it.
Instead, he sat down in his big executive chair, her head now on the pillow right in front of him. Her face turned to the side. He reached once more into the deep open drawer and pulled out a thick leather strap. He caressed her face with it, made sure she saw every inch. It looked about three inches wide. It was stiff, a little more than a foot long. Narrowed at one end for a handhold.
“I got this from a different kind of website. This afternoon, you can tell him how much you like the competition.” She cried through the gag and shook her head, pleading with teary, frightened eyes.
He moved behind her, put the strap on her back for safekeeping while he undid her back garters, tucked them up out of the way under her garter belt. Roughly squeezed both her buttocks at once.
“For such a little thing you have got one big ripe ass,” he said. Moving to the side, he grabbed the strap and placed one hand flat on the small of her back and pushed. Her ass popped up and out, ready for her punishment.
THWACK! The strap reached across both cheeks at once. It jolted her forward against the bonds on her ankles. The pain, huge and intense, exploded across her skin and deep into her flesh. She screamed into the pillow.
“Once more,” he said hoarsely. THWACK! “Once more.” THWACK! Irene wept real tears now, pleading, writhing, her body in charge, fighting the restraints. His hand pressed harder.
“Once more,” he said again, his voice thicker, harsher. The next blow on the bottom curve just above the crease of her thighs. THWACK! “Once more.” THWACK! “Once more.” THWACK!
Irene went on screaming through the assault, from the fiery blooms of pain from the belt. She came on the seventh blow.
He never knew, hypnotized by the litany of “once more, once more” and by the sight of her flesh rippling with each blow, reddening under the strokes of thick leather. Irene came again. Still screaming, barely able to draw breath through the gag, she rode her violent orgasms.
When her whole ass and half her thighs looked coated in shiny red paint, he stopped, panting. He threw the strap down and unzipped. He shoved his squat cock between her burning cheeks, and, using no lube, penetrated her anus, grinding himself into her burning thighs and ass. The feel of the heat he’d forced into her skin drove him to a frenzy. He came in five fast thrusts.
The lawyer collapsed on her, rubbing his sweat-soaked hair into the back of her blouse. He pushed up and out, tucked himself away. He went around the desk releasing the ties that held her. She lay, a sobbing, moaning mess of wild hair and smeared make-up. Her eyes swollen almost shut.
“Stop that noise,” he snapped. “Get up and put all this away and straighten my desk. I have an important meeting in an hour. Be gone when I come out. And do not be late for our chat with your ex. He’s going to make dealing with you worth my trouble.”
He disappeared into his private bathroom and locked the door.
I
rene took a deep breath, hoping the dumb fucker had at least caused some petechial hemorrhaging on her thighs. A little blood wouldn’t hurt, either. She stood carefully. Slid her skirt slowly down over her bruised and burning flesh, the cool silk lining still caused her to burn more deeply, but not as much as the touch of the linen would have.
She straightened his desk. He might have cameras. He might be watching. She put away the restraints - which sadly worked. She didn’t have a mark on wrists or ankles. Put the strap and gag into the drawer. She tossed the snot-covered pillow on the couch and hoped somebody sat on it. As she moved around, she managed to “accidentally” kick her cell phone under his desk.
Irene Makin then picked up her purse and quietly, meekly, left the office. She stumbled down the hall past the gape-mouthed receptionist staring at her hair and face. At the elevator, several people in business attire saw her. On the first floor, she entered a large public bathroom.
Inside a stall with the door locked, she took a tube of anesthetic cream from her purse, but didn’t use it right away. Instead, she removed the digital recorder she had strapped inside so it wouldn’t fall out if he threw it (she knew her quarry) and turned it off. She slipped in an earbud and pressed play.
Oh yes, oh yes, I did get every second of it recorded. Irene reset the recorder and pressed the record button. She finally allowed herself to smile as she uncapped the cream, so very much looking forward to the meeting with Ben Hart.
Carson was immersed in code, keys clicks at Mach five, never touching his mouse.
Avia was immersed in articles and images, rarely clicking, mouse in constant motion as she copied and pasted and saved into her assignment file.
Studying the diagrams, she noticed when the clitoral wings were erect, and extended around the vagina, they almost reached the anus. His fingers sliding down … spreading her … one finger on her ... massaging her … opening her ... in her … Her head ducked, the muscles of her abdomen tightened, her vulva spasmed. Dammit.
A quick glance assured her Carson hadn’t noticed anything. Again she was confused by the idea that something which felt so humiliating could be so arousing at such an elemental level. Yet, he was selling anal stimulators for $1000 per and becoming richer by the second. What did her anus have to do with her clitoris?