by Dan Bruce
“Okay,” said Willy swallowing it all, welcoming his own nemesis into the fold. “I’ll take you round to Tessa Clifford now and get the paperwork sorted out. See you later, Emily.”
“Yes, see you later, Mrs. Johnson,” Adam added as he made to follow Willy out the door.
“Please, call me Emily,” she said to the Master that was leaving.
Adam stopped and turned in the doorway. Willy halted as well only a few yards away. “Emily!” exclaimed the Master. “Oh – well you must call me Adam if I’m calling you Emily. And are you working late tonight... Emily?”
“Erm... perhaps... I’m not sure. I could be... I mean... Why do you ask?” stammered Emily all in a fluster, her eyes flicking from Her Master to Willy. The Sales Director was blatantly eavesdropping, his suspicious mind racing, wondering if there was more to this relationship than claimed.
“I’ll be here till seven,” said Adam. “I’d better stay late and clear a few things up if I’m to start the new job on Monday. If you’re still around and in no rush to get home, perhaps I could make a start on the charm offensive and buy you a drink after work.”
“Well... yes! That would be... that would be fine,” replied Emily, her cheeks blushing. It sounded like she’d been asked out on a date, which of course would be scandalous for a married woman, but how could she possibly refuse.
Adam smirked. “I’ll see you at seven then... Oh, and Emily – that’s not very smart!”
“Wha...”
“Your scarf!” said Adam as he took a few steps forward to stand directly in front of a trembling young woman. “A bit uneven,” Adam added with a grin as he took hold of Emily’s scarf and adjusted it, tightening the knot slightly whilst tapping at the collar that lay beneath. “There! That’s much better. Appearance is everything – don’t you agree?”
Emily was left speechless – the man was a Master of control indeed!
Chapter 9
At seven o’clock on the dot Emily was standing alone outside the elevator door on the top floor, the receptionist having thankfully gone home at five-thirty. Holding her Chanel bag which contained her leash, and still wearing her hidden leather collar under a silk scarf, she excitedly pressed the call button and watched as the display above the door indicated the answer to the summons. Emily wasn’t sure what to expect. But whatever was to unfold – a celebratory drink in a nearby bar, or hopefully something more intimate – Emily knew that she had been summoned, just like the elevator, and that she would do whatever Her Nemesis demanded.
As the elevator approached, Emily’s pulse rate quickened. How he managed the trick was a mystery, but for the past six weeks when Emily worked late, Her Master had always been there, waiting inside the elevator to accompany her down. For the first four weeks it was only as far as the ground floor, and during the descent Emily had been verbally abused, subjected to obscenities and vulgar suggestions which she grew to crave like a drug, hating herself for her addiction, but always coming back for more. Then on the last two occasions they had gone further - down to the basement and the washroom that was there. Emily fervently hoped Her Master would take her there again this evening and celebrate his new job with the promised rutting of Emily’s ravenous pussy.
By the time the elevator arrived, Emily’s heart was pounding like a drum in her chest. The doors parted to that frantic beat and Emily prepared to offer her congrats, hoping they would be well accepted. But it was a gasp that she uttered and her heart almost stopped. Much to Mrs. Johnson’s bitter angst, the elevator was empty inside! Another of life’s little surprises had smacked her in the face – and this one really packed a punch. Emily was left reeling by the vacancy of thin air.
Not sure what to do, Emily held the door open. It had never crossed her mind to call Her Master to confirm the arrangement and agree where they would meet. The message had been clear, or at least it had seemed that way – and Her Master always found her, here waiting at the elevator door up on the top floor, ready to be taken down. But perhaps it was just a joke - another teasing game being played, causing her to stay late then standing her up on the date.
Emily considered calling Adam Wolf’s extension. She had already found it out and memorised the number. It would be a casual call, just to check if he was still in the office – perhaps he was running late. Naturally Emily would tell him she would wait; or if there was no reply, she would go down to the basement and hope to find him there. But that seemed wrong – an order had been given, albeit disguised as an attempt to charm, and Emily knew she would be expected to follow it. Checking up on Her Master would only incur his wrath, and that was not something Emily wanted to do.
She got in the elevator and pressed the button for the basement. At this late hour very few people would be about, so it came as no great surprise that it didn’t stop on the descent. Emily prayed that it would though – not for some stranger who would be puzzled by Emily’s subterranean destination – she hoped for Her Master to join her. With a growing panic with each passing floor, Emily tried to recall where Her Master had got on at lunchtime. Third or fourth floor – it was something like that. Emily’s heart sank when those numbers were passed. In a fit of despair, as she neared the ground floor, Emily was tempted to stop there – perhaps Her Master was waiting in the lobby, ready to take her for the drink that he’d suggested. She resisted. Emily didn’t want a drink – not in a busy bar at any rate! And that showed no faith, and she wanted to have faith. She wanted to go to the basement and find Her Master waiting on the other side of the elevator door.
Desperately hoping, but steeling herself for bitter disappointment, Emily arrived at her destination. The doors opened onto the semi-darkness, but there was sufficient light to confirm her fears - no one was there to greet her.
She was convinced now that it was all a malicious joke – Her Master was probably in a bar with Willy Ross and the rest of the sales team, all of them having a laugh at Emily’s expense. She shook her head, angry with herself for being such an easy target – for allowing a man to hurt her like this, taking the relationship out of the office and making a mockery of it into the bargain. She was about to press the button and go to the lobby then head off home. But she couldn’t give up – there was still a final straw to clutch at. There was one further stage to this humiliation, and she knew where she had to go.
Emily made a step forwards - her legs felt like lead wading through water. Then suddenly the weight of the world was lifted as she heard Her Master’s voice shouting from round the corner where the washroom lay.
“What’s taking you so long, Blondie? Hurry up and get your ass in here. Only plastic cups I’m afraid, but the champers is the real deal!”
The teasing scoundrel! It was another game all right, but not maliciously evil. But then that was the way with him: always surprising; tossing you around; playing with your mind; showing you the extremes – the highs and the lows. And from the depths of despair Emily soared. Now happier than a kid on Christmas morning, she set off as commanded, floating on air. She rounded the corner and saw the harsh light of the washroom creeping through its slightly ajar door. Following that light, Emily rushed. A drink had been bought, and it was charming all right – Champagne no less – the perfect way to toast success, in the best possible location, here in the basement. With a smile on her face that she knew could be wiped off at the least provocation or whim, she arrived and opened the door...
She froze.
Pleasures can be brief – so very, very brief! ‘...like poppies spread,’ the Scottish bard had said. ‘You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed.' And never had those words rung truer than in the head of Emily Johnson, two centuries after Robbie Burns had penned them.
The smile disappeared – the Chanel bag she carried slipped from her hand to fall with a thud on the hard cement floor.
“Cheers!” said the Master, raising his cup in salute.
“Cheers!” echoed Tessa Clifford with the same smug grin on her face that washrooms seeme
The plastic cups were touched. “Congratulations Adam,” Tessa added. Then to top it all off, and twist the knife that had pierced poor Emily’s much abused heart, Tessa had the audacity to kiss the new salesman’s cheek before turning to Emily in triumph. “Surprised to see me here, Emily?” the venomous snake hissed. “I bet you are! And not best pleased either, I’ll wager. Whereas me! For once in my life I’m delighted to see you, Emily. So don’t be shy. Come and join us and have some bubbly... you look like you’re in serious need of a drink!”
Chapter 10
“Wha... What’s she doing here?” stammered Emily, looking pleadingly at Her Master for some explanation, hoping beyond hope that the awful premonition that was wringing her guts would prove to be another unfounded fear.
“She’s here to celebrate my success, Blondie - just like you are. So pour yourself some fizz – the bottle’s over there, chilling in some ice,” said the Master nodding towards the washbasin.
Emily looked at him searchingly, knowing that something ominous was afoot. On the surface it appeared innocent enough – if you ignored the fact they were in the basement washroom where Emily’s experiences had been far from innocent. Adam Wolf’s poker face was revealing nothing – he was putting on a facade of celebratory normality in this highly abnormal location for a party. He was fully clothed, as thankfully was Tessa – the only hint of impropriety had been that peck on the cheek. But this was bad news – this was very bad news – Emily didn’t like it one little bit.
A quick glance to Tessa confirmed her suspicion. Unlike Adam Wolf’s handsome mask of concealment, that woman’s evil face was a storybook, and the tale it was telling was a portent of doom. She was smirking wildly – a manic look in her spiteful eyes. It was a look of triumph. ‘To the victor the spoils,’ it screamed at Emily, ‘and guess what... you’re the prize.’
Finally reacting, Emily shook her head and backed away, wanting to flee this hideous situation.
“Do as you’re told!” yelled Her Master – his face suddenly stern, hard and unforgiving. “I gave you an order, Blondie, so you obey! Don’t make me angry on today of all days.”
It was as severe a demand Her Master had ever made. Unable to defy him despite her dark foreboding, Emily reluctantly made a move forward, staggering like a drunk towards the Champagne. She reached the washbasin where the bottle was embedded in a pile of crushed ice, and with shaking hands poured out a splash into a plastic cup. She raised it to Her Master who watched on expectantly. “Cheers!” Emily said with moistening eyes. “Congratulations on your success... Adam.”
“Adam! Adam!” yelled the man, his face now fuming with rage. “That’s two mistakes in as many minutes, Blondie. Now don’t make a third, or by God you’ll regret it.”
Emily cowered under the verbal onslaught. She bowed her head in shame, knowing what she must do - the words she was about to say crushing her spirit. This would hurt her more than any physical blow.
“Sorry, Master. Please forgive me.”
“OH! MY! GOD!!!! She actually said that!” screeched Tessa, delighting in Emily’s display of submission. “She actually calls you Master! How humiliating! You know, Adam – I didn’t think you could deliver this part of the bargain. I would have settled for... well, you know what I’m really looking forward to later on... But to see this stuck up little pompous bitch humbled like this – it really is the icing on the most delicious cake.”
It was unbearable. Emily wanted the earth to open up, swallow her whole then spit her back out as a corpse. In her wretched despair, she could see the final piece of the jigsaw now fitting - and as with the Italian, Emily was the reward for the help Her Master was given...
As head of Human Resources, Tessa Clifford would have been involved in Adam Wolf’s recruitment, and probably the deal had been agreed from the start. The plum job in sales that Adam wanted was out of the question without a glowing track record with another company in the same field. Willy Ross wouldn’t consider an external candidate otherwise. But if Adam thought he was good enough and wanted a chance to get in front of the Sales Director to prove it, then Tessa could facilitate the interview after Adam had served a few months in consultancy. Such an intervention would come at a price however – Tessa Clifford wasn’t the type of viper who did anyone a favour without something in return. Part of that price was obviously Adam in some form or another – a sexual favour he would be obliged to perform. Emily shuddered at the very idea! But the other part was clearly Emily, making a spectacle of herself – Tessa witnessing her humiliation. Emily shuddered again, wondering how far her disgrace would have to go before Tessa had extracted her spiteful pound of flesh.
“Get her to do more, Adam!” cackled Tessa, evidently far from satisfied yet. “I want to see her grovel... Make her grovel to me!”
“You will get what you asked for, Tessa,” assured Adam. “I told you – I am a man of my word and will make good my promises. But all in good time... watch first, and then you may experience.”
A snap of Adam’s fingers then a point towards the floor gave Emily all the instruction needed. Whimpering in shame, she fell to her knees positioned in front of Her Master.
“Oh, that is beautiful! She’s like a dog!” hollered Tessa. “This is truly the happiest day of my life! Three long years I’ve yearned to see this – Emily Johnson brought to her knees.”
Adam looked down at her, reached out and touched a scalding cheek that radiated Emily’s embarrassment. He made her cringe when the hand was lowered and a finger again tapped the scarf hidden collar. Horror upon horror, Emily thought she would die of it – Tessa seeing her symbol of slavery would be a wound too severe to survive. But much to her relief, the scarf remained in place. It was another demonstration that Adam would make.
“Give me your cup,” said Emily’s Master, his calm voice such a contrast to the accompanying hysteria in the room.
Emily obeyed, raising her cup with its splash of Champagne and offered it to Her Master. She looked up at his stern face pleadingly, tears rolling freely down her scarlet cheeks.
“Drink!” was the command given.
The Master poured out the Champagne onto the palm of his hand which he cupped to hold the fizzing liquid. He offered it to Emily who immediately lapped it up, adoring the flesh that held the drink. As she drained the palm and carried on licking, she tried to block out the audience and think only of the act – the display of submissive worship. But it was impossible to do. Tessa’s screams of laughter stabbed her repeatedly in the heart, making her presence all too apparent and Emily’s mortification all the more wounding.
“Stop now!” Adam eventually said.
Emily halted immediately and maintained her position, kneeling subserviently at Her Master’s feet.
“That was a simple demonstration,” Adam casually informed Tessa. “She’ll debase herself further though – in fact I don’t think there’s a depth our Mrs. Johnson won’t sink to.”
Emily cringed at the words. She feared that Her Master was going to put that to the test.
“Such as?” gushed Tessa. “Show me how low the pathetic little madam will go.”
“Well, she’ll deliver what you asked for - half of the bribe that you demanded.”
“Bribe!” exclaimed Tessa indignantly. “That’s a bit strong!”
“Oh come on now Tessa, don’t take offence,” said Adam, laughing the remark off. “It’s the way of the world – everyone does it. Come on, your cup is empty - have another drop of Champagne – we’re celebrating. No need to get hung up on a little word.”
“Yes, well – we are celebrating,” agreed Tessa, wanting to be mollified by this gorgeous hunk of a man. “But that was a bit harsh, Adam.”
It was left at that. No further placation. “Go fetch the bottle, Blondie!” demanded the Master. “My good friend Tessa wants some more Champagne.”
“Yes Master,” whimpered Emily as she got up to obey. She fetched the bottle and held down the bile rising in her stomach as she served Tessa Clifford, half-filling her cup, refusing to look at the chortling bitch.
“As I was saying,” continued Adam whilst Emily performed her task. “Blondie here will do whatever I tell her, and that includes delivering against the bribe... Oh sorry – there I go again... if I’m going to succeed in sales then I’d better start choosing my words more carefully... Meeting the rather exacting conditions you set for putting me forward to Mr. Ross.”
“Okay Adam!” said Tessa, a little testily. She was a bitch after all and she knew how to bark. “I think you’ve made the point. Don’t rub it in. You got what you wanted, and I’m getting exactly what I wanted. So let’s see a bit more grovelling as we finish the Champagne... then we can go back to my place for part two of the bargain.”
“Humph! We need to finish part one properly first... Are you ready Tessa?”
“Oh I’m ready. What are you going to make her do?”
“Exactly as you asked... so lift up your skirt and drop your knickers... Blondie here is going to kiss your ass!”
“What!” screeched Tessa. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“But that’s what you said! Or did I hear you wrongly?” answered the Master, a puzzled look thrown onto his face. “I asked for a chance to move into sales and you said you could swing it, but it would cost. You said you wanted me to fuck you, and for Emily Johnson to kiss your ass. Is that not the case?”
“Well yes,” said Tessa, thrown by Adam’s accusing tone. “But...”
“But what?” interrupted Adam, sounding ominously offended. “But you didn’t really mean it? You were only joking when you made me promise that I would fuck you if I got the interview?”
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