CHAPTER 1
It was 2:00 pm on a Friday, exactly ninety days since Suzette had first walked in to
Bondage, Inc. Suzette had butterflies in her stomach as she waited at her desk to be
called in for her three-month review. Sasha had been in Mrs. Aldrich's office with
the door closed ever since Suzette had left it two hours ago. Suzette would have thought
something private was going on—but she could hear voices, calm and dignified,
businesslike, and she knew they were discussing her. Every few moments, Suzette could pick
out her own name from the faint hum of words like "requires frequent disciplinary
action" and "problem."
The last three months had seen the relationship between Mrs. Aldrich and her
receptionist Sasha change dramatically. When Suzette had arrived at Bondage Inc. to begin
work as a designer for the company's catalog of bondage gear, Sasha had been quite a
rebellious spirit and had been frequently disciplined by Mrs. Aldrich—often in front of
Suzette. Now that Suzette had become the firm's "problem employee," Sasha
and Mrs. Aldrich had quickly grown closer. The two frequently took three-hour lunches
together (Suzette had never been asked to lunch by Mrs. Aldrich), and many days Suzette
sat nervously at her desk, overhearing her name from Mrs. Aldrich's office. But never
before had she heard it in the last moments before her scheduled review.
Though it frightened her to know that Sasha was now Mrs. Aldrich's confidante—and
quickly becoming her unofficial second in command—it had long since become clear that
Sasha was in control. This morning only felt different because, facing her review, Suzette
now feared her own termination.
Suzette had been working all morning on a catalog layout that involved suspension
bondage and an enormous array of improbably-sized dildos, and her while mounting sexual
arousal at work may have been nothing new, as she drew her mouse succulently over the
digital images of women being repeatedly plumbed by dildos, she was repeatedly seized with
the fear that she might be fired.
Suzette had received numerous written warnings and not-infrequent punishment at the
hands of both Mrs. Aldrich and, at Mrs. Aldrich's instruction, Sasha. Her bottom
still smarted from the strapping she'd received in Mrs. Aldrich's office this
morning for accidentally putting a staple through the paper shredder. Her pussy had gone
molten with the first stroke, but despite Suzette's sobbing pleas to be allowed to
satisfy herself before going back to work, she had been denied.
Mrs. Aldrich, however, had not been denied, and Suzette was not in a position to deny
her boss when she leaned back on the desk, hiked her skirt up to her waist, and snapped
her fingers for the freshly-strapped Suzette to do what she was well trained to do.
Suzette had been allowed to satisfy the rising hungers that the punishment had conjured in
the older woman, and she had done so with enthusiasm, as she always did following a
punishment.
Mrs. Aldrich had instructed Suzette not to wash her face, rinse her mouth out
afterwards or even eat lunch, so the pungent taste of her boss's cunt still filled
Suzette's mouth, and her tongue, well used, was as swollen as her clit, her salivary
glands aching with the exertion of two hours' licking. Mrs. Aldrich had come three
times on Suzette's tongue.
The rumbling in Suzette's stomach did little to distract her from the aching in
her cunt. Mrs. Aldrich had implied, this morning, that changes would be forthcoming around
the office and Suzette should prepare herself to "try on some new procedures."
The employee's paranoia had seized her.
As she caressed the bondage layouts with her trackball, she rocked back and forth
against her office chair, feeling her tight channel and swollen clit, painfully engorged
with lust. Her cunt had soaked through her panties and her short skirt, and every time
Suzette shifted, she could feel a pulse going through her. She was only faintly aware that
she was moaning softly. This fact was made worse by the fact that her pussy hair, which
she normally neatened slightly to a squared-off landing strip with electric clippers once
a week, had been left untrimmed for three weeks at Sasha's instruction. Her legs,
too, had been ordered by Sasha to be left unshaved.
Though Suzette had expressed several times to Sasha that she wondered what it was like
to have a fully shaved cunt, Sasha had never allowed Suzette to fully depilate her sex.
"All in good time," she had told Suzette. "When I'm ready to let you
be shaved."
Suzette, despite or perhaps because of such punishment and humiliation, had come to
love this job. The frequent exposure to bondage toys and graphic sexual images had
awakened in her hungers that she had never expected to possess. And, more importantly, at
Bondage, Inc. Suzette had found a focus she had always dreamed of having. Never good at
concentrating on her schoolwork, even when it interested her, Suzette had been trained
well by the rigid regulations of the office and now was quite productive.
Even so, Miss Aldrich was never forthcoming with praise, and Suzette was quite sure
that Sasha bad-mouthed her at every opportunity. But Suzette never could have challenged
such comments, because they were said behind her back, or just out of earshot. Besides,
Suzette never could have challenged Sasha—period.
Though she was just a receptionist, Sasha had taken an aggressive stance toward the
firm's new employee. At first, Suzette had resisted the receptionist's de facto
authority. But Suzette had been quickly brought to heel. This was doubtless due to the
relationship they shared outside of work, which had grown particularly complicated since
the day Sasha had tape-recorded Suzette having her ill-advised office fling with Mr.
Aldrich. Ever since then, she had been on call for John's use, whenever he wanted.
Sasha enjoyed spicing up their love life with threesomes, and Suzette was the easy whore
who provided them.
A warm sensation went through Suzette's body as she remembered last Friday night.
She still had the bruises on her thighs. And, following Sasha's instructions earlier
in the week, Suzette's day planner was marked off from 4:00 pm on—and well in to
Saturday morning, as she'd long since learned that Sasha did not think Friday ended
at midnight. Suzette had come to anticipate these Friday nights with a mixture of
uncontrolled sexual arousal and barely-controlled fear. Hoping against hope that she was
not about to be terminated, Suzette had brought her "Friday night clothes"
neatly folded in a gym bag stashed under her desk. Of course, the clothes took up only the
tiniest corner of the gym bag, but there were more than enough other items in the bag to
stuff it quite full. Suzette's work clothes were not especially substantial or
demure—Sasha had seen to that by taking her shopping with Mr. Aldrich's company
credit card for infinitesimal skirts, tight blouses, garter belts and high-heeled shoes,
then visiting Suzette's apartment and going through her closet to throw out every
garment she owned that didn't show enough skin for Sasha's taste. Suzette had
almost wept as her favorite pair of jeans was carted off to the thrift store, to be
replaced with a pair so low-cut they displayed her hips plainly and almost showed the top
of Suzette's untrimmed pubic hair.
Of course, jeans were strictly forbidden at the office, but Suzette had long since
given up pretending that Sasha controlled her only at the office. On the contrary, ever
since she'd replaced Suzette's entire wardrobe, Sasha saw fit to instruct
Suzette on what to wear every day, even at night and on weekends—especially at night and
on weekends.
Suzette blushed as she remembered vividly how Sasha had first instructed Suzette that,
from now on, she would be sleeping in the nude. "And I'll know if you
disobey," said Sasha. "I can tell when you're lying to me."
Suzette felt her heart skip a beat as Mrs. Aldrich's door opened.
She looked up with eyes wide and breath coming short.
Mrs. Aldrich stood in the doorway.
"We're ready to see you, Suzette," said Mrs. Aldrich.
Suzette's head swam. "W—we?" she asked. She hadn't seen Mr. Aldrich
come in—no, she was quite sure that Mrs. Aldrich and Sasha were alone in there.
"Yes," said Mrs. Aldrich primly. "We."
Suzette swallowed nervously.
She stood up on shaky legs.
"Yes, Mrs. Aldrich," she said, and nervously walked into her boss's
office.
* * * *
There were two chairs in front of Mrs. Aldrich's oak desk. Sasha sat in one of
them, looking at Suzette smugly. Suzette went to sit in the other one.
Sasha said quickly: "Stand."
Suzette's eyes went wide. Sasha had said it as you might give a command to a dog,
and Suzette's face flushed red and hot as she looked at Sasha to see if the
receptionist was, in fact, serious.
As their eyes met, Suzette quickly discerned that Sasha was entirely serious, and she
dropped her eyes and remained standing.
Mrs. Aldrich sat down behind her desk and began shuffling through Suzette's
personnel file.
"How long have you been with us, Suzette?" asked Mrs. Aldrich.
"Three months, Ma'am."
"In that time, you've proved yourself quite a problem. Your work on the
catalog is adequate, but you continue to require disciplinary action. Do you wish to
continue working here, Suzette?"
Suzette's heart pounded. "Yes, Ma'am. Very much."
As Mrs. Aldrich spoke, she did not look at Suzette; rather, she shuffled through the
papers in Suzette's file, including a color inkjet printout of the photograph Sasha
had taken after yesterday's punishment Suzette had been given for failing to rinse
out Sasha's coffee mug. The photograph was of Suzette's freshly-spanked pussy
with three weeks' worth of bush. Underneath that there were three more printouts of
photographs taken with the digital camera they used to photograph products. Suzette
vividly remembered the circumstances under which each photograph had been taken. The first
one was of Suzette's face with tears streaming from her eyes, taken as Sasha
instructed Suzette to fuck herself on the brand-new dildo they were considering for the
new catalog, despite the fact that it was probably quite a bit too big for most of their
clients. The next inkjet printout was a photo of Suzette obediently tonguing Sasha's
high-heeled shoe; Mrs. Aldrich had scrawled on it in big black marker: "Shows
management potential." The last photograph had been taken from behind, a clear shot
of Suzette bent over, her skirt lifted and her panties down to her knees, her hands
holding open her rear cheeks to expose the tiny pink starfish of her asshole.
Suzette's face was just visible looking over her shoulder, the humiliation plainly
evident as Sasha instructed her to part her cheeks wider. Miss Aldrich had written on the
printout: "Has not yet been violated anally. Schedule after three-month review.
Possible investor meeting?"
Suzette felt her head spinning.
Mrs. Aldrich also paged through the photocopies of Suzette's tits that had been
taken while Sasha held her down against the sizzling-hot glass. That had been an almost
daily occurrence until Suzette had finally stopped battling with Sasha for dominance and
accepted her place as the receptionist's inferior. Suzette's embarrassment
mounted as she remembered the feel of the hot photocopier glass burning her sensitive
tits.
"Good. I've decided to extend your probation another three months. But
you're more of a handful than I can manage on my own. Sasha is being promoted to
Office Manager, and she'll be supervising you directly from now on."
"Oh, my," was all Suzette could say.
"Is there a problem with that, Suzette?"
Suzette looked at Sasha, who wore a prim smile on her red-painted lips.
"No, Ma'am," said Sasha before Suzette could answer. "There
isn't a problem. Is there, Suzette?"
"No, Miss Sanders," Suzette answered meekly.
"There's something else," said Mrs. Aldrich. "Roland Girard is
coming into town tonight. Do you recognize the name?"
Suzette did recognize it; she had seen Mr. Girard's name on outgoing envelopes and
faxes. She had seen numerous dollar signs on those faxes, but didn't remember much
else about him.
"I'm not sure," said Suzette.
"You will remember that name," said Mrs. Aldrich. He owns one of our largest
suppliers, and he is considering investing in our company, to the tune of several million
dollars. Unfortunately, my husband and I have another engagement out of town, which we
cannot reschedule. You and Sasha will be taking Roland out to dinner tonight. Please show
him a good time. And Suzette, Roland is a very important man. If you're to continue
to work here, it's important you learn how to "press the flesh," as they
say. Sasha will be instructing you in how to properly act around a critical business
contact. The two of you will show Roland a very good time.
Suzette cleared her throat.
"Um, Ma'am?"
"What, Suzette?" Mrs. Aldrich's tone was annoyed.
"Can I ask a question?" Suzette whimpered meekly.
"Does that mean," she began. "Um, does that mean—"
"It means whatever I say it means," said Sasha quickly. "That's why
we're going together."
"Absolutely right," said Mrs. Aldrich. "You're to follow
Sasha's lead in all matters. She's met the vendor before, and he was quite
impressed. You can learn a lot from Sasha, Suzette. I suggest you take advantage of this
opportunity."
Sasha smiled. "Yes, Suzette. Take advantage of it. I'll show you everything
you need to know."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Suzette. "Will Roland—"
"Mr. Girard," said Sasha in a snippy tone.
"Mr. Girard," Suzette corrected herself. "Will he . . ." she
struggled for the correct way to ask the question. "Will Mr. Girard be spending the
night?"
Miss Aldrich fixed Suzette with a disdainful look.
"Oh yes," said Mrs. Aldrich. "Most certainly."
Suzette shifted nervously, her mind struggling against the pregnant assertion in Mrs.
Aldrich's answer. "And how should I dress?"
"Sasha will choose an outfit for you," said Mrs. Aldrich. "I want to be
sure you don't look ghetto fabulous the way you do for work, Suzette."
Suzette's stomach churned; since finally accepting Sasha's authority, she had
worn only what Sasha had told her to wear; certainly much of it was more revealing than
what Suzette would have chosen for herself, but "ghetto fabulous?" Suzette knew
she should feel insulted, but merely accepted this criticism as part and parcel of her
position.
"Sasha has already picked an outfit for you," said Mrs. Aldrich. "That
should ensure that you don't look like you just graduated from college."
Suzette's face reddened still deeper. She had, in fact, just graduated from
college not long ago, but she had already accepted extensive instruction from Sasha in the
proper way to dress. Was it her fault she needed instruction in the proper way to dress
for an investor?
"Any other questions you have, please direct them to Sasha," said Mrs.
Aldrich. "I'll be back Monday morning, and I expect to hear good news."
"Oh, you will," said Sasha. "I'm quite sure we'll have a check
for you."
"If not, I may be rethinking the restructuring," said Mrs. Aldrich, and shot
a look first to Sasha and then to Suzette. Sasha dropped her eyes, and Suzette experienced
a warm feeling. "In fact, if Roland chooses not to invest, the company may need to
cut staff. Do the two of you understand?"
"Oh, perfectly," said Sasha with a sour smile.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Suzette.
"Excellent. Suzette, please sign your review right here." Mrs. Aldrich pushed
Suzette's file across the desk and Suzette signed where it said "Employee
Signature," right next to where Sasha had already signed. Mrs. Aldrich tucked the
review form into Suzette's file, paper-clipped behind the photocopy of her breasts
and the snapshot of her tortured pussy. She paused and peeled back the photocopy,
regarding for a moment the color print-out of Suzette's untrimmed sex, her bushy
mound of dark hair quite evident.
"One more thing," said Mrs. Aldrich. She looked first at the printout, then
at Suzette's crotch where the tight skirt hugged the front of her thighs, and then at
Suzette's deeply flushed face.
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