AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Focus all your thoughts on me.
Yes yes… I was doing that, thinking of him every hour, every minute.
Dress for me, walk for me, live for my commands.
Yes, I was doing that too, getting sluttier, more provocative, unbuttoning my blouses to expose my breasts, letting peeks of flesh appear for the casual eye, wearing a garterbelt and stockings in lieu of pantyhose, wondering if anyone noticed, wondering if my master witnessed my transformation.
Look the men in the office in the eyes as if you’re looking into mine. Let them see your lust and understand you are a sexual woman…
The dressing was easy, but eye contact was hard with men I’d sworn to hate. I still wanted to dismiss them, cut through their façades with my critical knife, but I was turning into putty instead. Every day there was a new incarnation of myself to wonder about. Why was I making these changes so easily?
Ellington Lloyd, Joel McNary, T J Niven, Preston Lockhart… and the others soon knew exactly who I was: Skye Sinclair, the woman at the far end of the building, the head of research, the slut in sheep’s clothing who’d been hiding all this time.
At the end of my day, however, I was still no closer to knowing my mystery man than when this charade began. Every night I went to bed with one of the primary players in my mind, with [email protected] hanging over my head like a Sword of Damocles. He evolved from night to night, but he was never flesh and blood, anything more than an apparition, the phantom prince of my kinky nightmares.
Why can’t you tell me who you are? I typed the desperate me
ssage, hoping for an honest answer.
Keep looking them in the eye. Eventually you’ll connect with me and you’ll know then who I am.
***
The messages were always brief, sometimes incisive, and growing increasing sexual, increasingly graphic.
Find a sizeable, but comfortable dildo to wear in your pussy. Insert it in the morning, fasten it in tight and wear it to the office tomorrow.
No! No, absolutely not! Was my immediate reply.
But then my resolve crumbled like so much dust. How could I not? How could I dismiss the rumbling in my tummy, the wetness between my thighs, the aroma of sex emitted from my pores as the brilliance of this next assignment seized my imagination?
My body shuddered in advance, then shuddered more as I combed the nearest sex shop for the right equipment for the task. I found a five-inch dildo and a smooth silk rope, and dwelling on the lure of this assignment, I even tried on a black lace corset in the dressing room, becoming so aroused I wanted to masturbate. But my master’s orders stopped me. I left the shop with bag in hand, dildo and rope inside, leaving the corset lying on the dressing room floor.
I couldn’t imagine wearing the weighty piece inside me all day, but I would. For him, if not for me.
***
It had been three days since my last orgasm. My body was raw, exploding every hour in reminder of the pleasure denied me. But I was true to my word, too hooked on my master’s game to disobey an order.
I left my apartment the next morning, attired in a denim skirt, a bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of summer sandals. Standing in front of the mirror, I made certain no one would ever know the secret beneath the skirt, as the heavy weight of the fabric covered any evidence of the ropes and dildo underneath. Afraid the dildo would slip out, I’d bound my groin so tightly that the ropes cut and every move was a reminder of this gross absurdity. Sitting became a dicey situation: some positions were excruciatingly painful, while others, I could hardly tell there was something lodged inside me. Regardless, I never forgot the strain of the ropes wrapping my waist, bisecting my crotch and tied off behind me. I wouldn’t bend over, I wouldn’t brush up against anyone, and if I could safely hide in my cubicle all day, I would.
For a time I ignored the effect the bondage was having on me. It was an annoyance, not a pleasure. But all that changed during lunch, as I was taking bite of a salad, sitting primly as if the dildo was an anchor keeping me in place when my computer pinged, alerting me to a newly received message.
Think about what you’re doing, Skye. And think about why.
More orders, these were simple ones, and I let my mind drift to thoughts of him… Niven, Lockhart, McNary, and Lloyd, the strange composite of the four gentlemen in the office and everything else I imagined the man to be. Of course, I could be way off base and my email master was none of these men, perhaps someone much less attractive, much more mundane, much more approachable, much less exciting than I hoped for. I let my imagination drift away, and soon the effect of the dildo and ropes became more than an annoyance, more than irritation, more than just another assignment. It worked on me like the fingers of a lover, tempting, taunting, revealing the truth about myself. My belly swelled with desire, as my thoughts were captured, poised on the unknown man who demanded this of me. I was at his feet, naked but for this simple gear, waiting for his touch, waiting for the revelation.
The phone suddenly jangled, knocking me out of my dreams.
“Research Department,” I answered.
“Face the window, Skye, and pull down the blind. Close your eyes and wait for me. Do it now.”
Now? Here? Inside this half hidden cubicle? But what if…? I tried to blurt out, but it was too late. The phone clicked and the dial tone buzzed in my ear like a buzz saw.
I swiveled my chair, reached for the mini-blind ropes and tugged until the slats dropped down. Afraid to move from there, I closed my eyes and waited, feeling him near, feeling the ropes, the gnawing dildo in my pussy and my arousal soar far beyond its previous bounds. My body ached for his physical touch.
In minutes, my obedience was rewarded as I heard the crisp sound of shoes in the corridor and then the shuffling of feet behind me. Feeling the presence of a body hovering over me, I mentally sifted through the images, the men, the possibilities, and the ones I’d already dismissed. The cuff of his shirt brushed my cheek, while the scent of his cologne wafted toward my nostrils. He rested a palm on my shoulder and squeezed firmly.
