Hannah exchanged one last look and tight smile with Lucy before rapping twice on the office door, on perfect time for their regular Friday 4 o'clock.
Like most Friday afternoons the conversations between them had been stilted, they had one eye on the clock. It was worse today though, for it'd been a bad week for both of them, they'd both made mistakes which were bound to be mentioned at the weekly assessment.
“Come in”, his voice commanded, and they slowly walked in then stood in position as trained in front of his desk, waiting.
Normally they had an idea of which one of them would be punished after his assessment before they even entered the office, it was not that they were bad at their jobs – quite the opposite; mistakes were unusual, so when one was made the culprit expected the Friday 4 o' clock to go bad for them. Some weeks, the anticipation was terrible, especially if the previous week's punishment had been particularly severe. Hannah sometimes wondered if it wasn't worse having to watch her friend suffer than taking her turn, but swiftly realised the lie in that every time it was her at fault and her trial had been announced.
Not that he was a bad man. They'd met him in a club, just began chatting and both fell for his easy, confident charm. He could self deprecate, make them smile and feel good about themselves, yet he also had that steel, instinctively they knew how far was too far. They both felt safe, and within weeks they'd fallen, all three of them into a relationship. An odd triangle perhaps, apart from socially they rarely spent private time together, but it worked. Slowly, they had become his.
And just as naturally they left another part of their old lives behind and began working for him. It wasn't a difficult choice, the nurturing he'd always shown was present in his management skills, and this being his own business he rewarded his staff handsomely – if they put in the effort.
The caveat though, was the Friday 4 o'clock. Of course he could, and did, play with them whenever he wanted, but Fridays were darker. He would assess them, and the one deemed to have been the worst during the week would be punished. Punishments were rarely needed or given at any other time.
There was an age difference between the girls, and over time they noticed a subtle difference between the punishments given.
Lucy was the youngest, just turned twenty, slight frame, flawless fair skin and long straight black hair; her clothing tended towards the gothic, or gothic slut, more accurately. The punishments he gave her tended towards painful cruelties. Hannah reflected he must like seeing this perfect young creature wrecked, reduced writhing in agonies. It had been her turn last week, she'd offended a major client (a complete oaf of a man, lecherous yet a self proclaimed god fearing puritan); they'd almost lost the account. Hannah had been ordered to hold Lucy's hands down, and she could still see the young girls face contorted almost unrecognisable through her agony, and this with only just over half of the allocated cane strokes delivered. She'd finally cracked and launched a stream of invective at him through her tears, which only served to earn Lucy another set of strokes, across the breasts this time.
At 35, Hannah was only a few years younger than him. She was, she thought, a few pounds overweight, especially compared to Lucy, but she knew she carried it well, knew he adored her curves. In contrast to Lucy's raven hair, hers was blonde and barely shoulder length. Perhaps it was because she was older and more settled in herself that she carried a natural confidence, almost arrogance. And perhaps it was because of this her punishments tended towards the humiliating or degrading. Sometimes she would be given a public task; there were areas of the town she was still too ashamed to revisit, but mostly they happened in that office. Her mind went back to a few weeks ago and her ordeal then… she swallowed automatically, remembering what she'd been forced to do, the humiliation, the taste, oh the taste… Lucy's disgusted eyes on her as she completed the task…gagging but asking for more, please, as she'd been told to.
He'd been kind enough to give her a tall glass of her favourite drink after, but typically he waited until she'd drank half of it before informing her that the ice cubes contained his spunk.
Finally, he stopped writing and put his pen down on his blotter. He looked up at them, silent for fully a minute, then began to talk. His voice was calm, measured, but it was bad. Very bad.
His calmness, in a way was more terrifying, the events of the week were dissected, no blame apportioned, but the facts laid bare. Both Hannah and Lucy knew they were in trouble; there was no secret thrill in this for them, it was serious, they knew how he could and would push them.
Only once before had he seen fit to punish them both together. Both girls were confirmed straight and he'd always respected that, but not that Friday. They'd felt numb as he'd ordered them to strip, told them how they were to put on a show for him. Hannah had found herself between Lucy's legs, her fingers inside the younger girl's cunt, her tongue on her clit. She'd taken no pleasure in this; recoiled in fact at the demand, but it was the lesser of two evils, she had to make Lucy come… or else.
For her part, Lucy was too tense at this invasion to relax, but Hannah whispered soft assurances to her, held her hand and tried to educate her tongue to this hitherto unneeded skill, coaxing the girl to relax, to the orgasm that would bring this to an end for both of them. It worked eventually, Hannah felt her body begin to move under her, Lucy bucking her hips into her face, pressing herself down harder on her fingers, deeper, heard her breathing roughen. Come soon, please, Hannah thought, Oh you bitch, come soon; a direct contrast to the cooing and softness she actually had used to reassure the girl. And finally Lucy was on the brink, she looked over at him, appealed to be allowed her orgasm – but no, he said, wait, control it, and Hannah, keep going.
When he finally allowed her to come, it was all the more powerful for the wait, she screamed her pleasure, her hands in Hannah's hair, pulling her face down, into her, until the waves diminished. Hannah sat back then, watching Lucy's breath return to normal, hating what she'd just done.
Yet it wasn't over. Hannah now, naked, bent over his desk, watching as he took his time tightening the fastenings on the strap-on he'd helped Lucy into. I don't want this, was all Hannah could think, she felt trapped, closed in, her body exposed and vulnerable.
Lucy disappeared from her view, as he sat down in his chair, directly in front of her. He was calm, as if this was just a normal day in the office – yawn – another tiresome meeting. “Look me in the eyes, girl, and don't break contact”. He then nodded almost imperceptibly. Hannah jumped slightly as she felt Lucy's hand rest on her hip, then tried to twist away as she felt the cold plastic of the strap-on press between her legs. One look from him stopped her, there was no preventing this. Lucy used her other hand to open her cunt lips and slide the dildo into her, her fingers felt hesitant, their actions rough, but she was gentle with the strap-on; it wasn't small, filling Hannah fully, but Lucy did the best she could to ease her way inside her friend. Hannah was determined not to show any emotion through this, not to give him the satisfaction. She stared in his eyes, silent save for a rhythmic heavy breath/grunt as Lucy begin fucking her. Both her hands were on her hips now, her movement quicker, harder, forcing Hannah to rock backwards and forwards, the room still silent, save for their breathing, and the slap of skin on skin as Lucy fucked her deeper.
This is so alien, Lucy thought, is this how it is for the boy? She struggled to get her rhythm right, Hannah's soft body, her arse in front of her so different to the hardbodied boys she usually chose at the end of the night, when the D.J. had finished and the dancing stopped.
He was looking directly into Hannah's eyes, still, matching her impassiveness. Hannah could feel her body reacting, getting wet but she was determined not to let him know, not to let him win. But then he nodded again, a pre arranged signal to Lucy, who pulled out of her, leaving her suddenly empty, cold. His slight, knowing smile, however, told her there was something else…
“No! I mean it! NO!” He grabbed hold of her hands suddenly, holding her down. Lucy had pressed the tip of the dildo against her arsehole, the intent was clear. She'd never been taken like this before, never this way and she was terrified. Oh, she knew he would be using her this way at some point – he had with Lucy, she'd giggled and complained of a 'spunky bubble bum' one morning, she almost looked forward to it, but not like this, not this way.
Lucy had tried to help her, tried to appeal to him, “Don't make me do this, please, it's not fair, I can't do this to her, I don't want to”. His reply was a simple shake of his head and a whispered – “Do it. Now.”
Hannah felt cold and angry remembering. The flush of the shame she had felt that day, being used like that still strong. The appeal, apparently, had been the limit of Lucy's sisterhood empathy, for she presented the dildo at Hannah's virgin hole… and pressed. All Hannah's reserve went at this violation, she screamed, pleaded as Lucy pressed forward with out pause, forcing her open, deeper and deeper. Maybe it was the shame of the manner of her earlier orgasm that made Lucy so brutal, made her fuck Hannah's arse so hard, so unsympathetically, but all Hannah could think of was the pain, her nerve endings sending fire to her brain, she screamed and pleaded, fought against the grip of his hands, as Lucy reamed her ever harder…
“And that, ladies, is where we are”. His voice snapped Hannah out of her memories. It seemed that the loudest thing in that still room was her breathing and heartbeat; and she, they still had this night to get through.
“I've made my decision.”
“Hannah, fetch the small table from near the window please. Place it in the centre of the room”.
Don't let it be me, please, not today, she thought, but did as asked, removing the vase and few scattered magazines from the low small square table before carrying it to the middle of the room, inline to his desk.
“Thank you Hannah. Now, strip to the waist, and sit on the chair, over there”. His voice was still level, even. He didn't need to do more, his command was obvious.
She knew how he liked this, how he wanted her to strip. Always slow, teasing, revealing herself bit by bit. His pleasure and pride in her body was obvious, she felt no shame in stripping in front of him, for him, even with Lucy present. She slowly unbuttoned her white fitted blouse, starting at the top slowly, slowly exposing more flesh. His order that day was for her to be braless, the material of the blouse was almost sheer, he'd sent her out to get lunch for them all earlier. Finally the last button was undone, she slid the blouse down her arms, let it fall on the floor and walked over to the leather guest sofa. She sat down, legs together, back straight, hands resting palm down on her thighs, the way he liked, the way she'd been taught, so long ago now. “Lucy. You too now, strip to the waist, then kneel by the table, hands on your head”.
A strange look crossed her face, Hannah wasn't sure if he caught it, but she did. Shock, resignation… and pleasure? He'd told Lucy to wear her tight high necked top today. White (what else for a goth?), so tight it looked like it'd been sprayed on, hugging her breasts, her flat stomach, the material delineating the lines of her bra. She too stripped slowly, peeling the top off before slipping the straps of her bra off her shoulders, down her arms before undoing the back clasp and slowly lowering the cups. She discarded them, then moved over to the table, slowly lowering herself, kneeling on the floor, her thighs and back in a straight line, before raising her arms and resting her hands on top of her head.
Hannah studied her, unsure of how she felt. The girl was so young, so different from her, yet she felt no jealousy or envy, nor anger.
He moved in his chair, suddenly reaching into a desk drawer. There was a rattle as he withdrew something, a deliberate slam of the drawer that made Lucy jump, then he got up, strolling around his desk walking to the opposite side of the table to Lucy, taking time to smile at Hannah, then pausing, his hands and the object behind his back.
Everyone waited.
He moved then, Hannah saw he had a small box in his hands. He opened it with deliberate slowness then bent low over the table, emptying the contents of the box onto the surface in front of Lucy. It made a noise like light summer rain on a tin roof.
Drawing pins.
He reached down and distributed them evenly in front of his girl, then took a step back, the box disappearing into a pocket all in one motion, neat, ever the man in total control.
“Lucy, Lucy” He cooed. “I want you to turn every drawing pin on that table point up, and I want you to count them out aloud as you do so”.
Her face was calm, but the eyes sometimes cannot hide the inner thoughts. Hannah again saw this – and how did she herself feel? It was plain how this would go, she felt slightly horrified at what he had devised, yet fascinated too. He walked towards her, casually sitting down next to her, one arm gently snaking around her shoulders.
“You may begin, Lucy, please.”
Hesitantly, she lowered her arms, hands hovering over the table before reaching for the first pin. “One”, she said, sotto voce. He didn't need to look, instead reached out with his free hand and slowly turned Hannah's face towards his. He leaned forward, into her, brushing his lips against hers, soft feather strokes, kisses so light then gently parted her mouth with his tongue, meeting hers, their tips dancing a soft waltz. His hand moved down, gently cupping one of her full breasts, his thumb caressing her nipple, and then she knew, it was reaffirmed why she was his; this tenderness, this man capable of such brutality, yet this tenderness too.
Lucy announced she had finished – too soon for Hannah – and he sank back in his chair, giving Hannah's face a final stroke with a trailing finger. They both looked at the girl, still, hands back on head, staring straight ahead. No, not quite still, there was a tremor in her body.
“Now, lean forward, forearms flat at the sides of the table, hands gripping the far edge”.
Lucy shot him a quick look, her mouth dropping open as she took in a quick gasp of air. She was uncertain now, while she counted she knew what was coming, but now she was scared; how would this feel? How much would it hurt? Would she be damaged? But she did as told, lowering herself, her breasts just inches from the pins.
He watched her for a while then got up and crossed the room again, positioning himself behind her. He was smiling as he stroked her hair, gathering it up in a tail before lowering it again. He placed his hand flat between her shoulder blades, Lucy giving up another audible gasp at his touch. Her voice was a whisper, Hannah could barely make her words, “Please… not this. It will hurt me… damage me… please, I, I'm scared.”
His answer was to crab his fingers, his nails pressed gently into her skin, he trailed them down her back, her spine, so softly they were hardly a rumour. He traced his path back up again, then dug his nails in a little deeper, Lucy flinched, her back, arched to keep away from the sting of the pins nearly buckled. Again he trailed slowly down her spine, his nails dug into her flesh all the way, down, and back. A pause for her to recover, then he used both hands, nails deep leaving angry red lines down her skin.
He's doing it again, Hannah smile to herself, looking at Lucy contort, trying to get away from his nails yet keep shy of the pins, her face showing her struggle; I get to wait for him in the poshest bar in town, dressed like the world's cheapest hooker, and he is torturing that perfect young girl, he revels in my shame, revels in her pain.
A pause again. The sound of Lucy's quick breathing, him still, one hand spread between her shoulder blades. It was about to happen. But first, he snapped his head around to Hannah, as if he's heard her internal dialogue. “And you, girl, will be next”. And with that, he pressed.
Lucy fought back, No! escaping her lips, but her battle was already lost. He pressed down harder, angling his body to maximise the force brought to bear on Lucy's back – she resisted with all she could, but her arms gave way suddenly, she slammed down on the table top… on the pins… she screamed….
And still he pressed, as she sobbed, he used both hands, pressing down on her, not saying a word as he worked, distributing his weight, pressing his hands in different places on her skin, and she yelped, pleaded, argued, fought to get away, but he would not ease the pressure trapping her until he was satisfied.
Finally, he took another fistful of her hair, yanking her upright, wrenching her hair back, holding her there. Hannah heard the patter as several pins fell to the floor but more, so many more were embedded in Lucy's soft white skin, her breasts a pin cushion. “please”, she said again, just “please”, her eyes large, raw and shining from the tears shed. There were trails of blood growing from several of the pins, their paths mingling as they made their slow paths down her body, over her curves.
Lucy was silent now - the sobs racking her body were noiseless. Her head bowed, compliant.
He ran his finger over her skin, a smile on his lips as he trailed it through the blood before raising it to her face, colouring her lips with her own fluids. And yet he still hadn't finished her torment. One hand still in her hair, he began toying with the pins still in her body. Teasing, flicking them, bathing in her obvious discomfort, prising them out of her one by one, letting them drop to the floor at her knees.
Finally he'd done with her. Her body was left a network of small angry red marks, small trails of drying blood. He released her hair, still not saying a word, and waited for her composure to return.
Oh, but he'd trained her well.
After what seemed like an age to Hannah, Lucy slowly raised her hands, placing them again flat on top of her head.
“Thank you Sir” she said, and her smile was genuine.
His smile too. He wrapped his arms around her midriff and planted kisses on her neck, Hannah could imagine the soft comforting words he was whispering in her ears, she'd been there too, felt his approval after a task, known his pride in her.
She should've known this too. He got up suddenly, a split second to compose himself, then his piercing gaze fell on Hannah. “And now it's your turn, slut”. He said. “Come here, kneel in front of the table”.
Hannah jolted at the steel in his voice, but then, all along she knew this would be inevitable. She allowed herself a few seconds to close her eyes and take a deep breath, before standing up and walking towards him.
For what other choice did she have?
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Submitted by : Skyhook
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