Executive I

"Come on, I won't eat you."

The double meaning slipped by me, so saved me the problem of whether to be disappointed or not. Perhaps I should have had my mind on it, as Melissa had, well, a bit of a reputation in the company. She'd left a lot of bruised egos and, rumour had it, bruised flesh clawing her way up the corporate ladder and now junior execs scuttled, middle management crawled and the top ranks were models of politeness to her. Even the rest of the Board were said to tread warily around her in their endless games of power chess. So when I was invited up to her suite at the end of the first day of the 96 Company conference and thinkfest nervous excitement at the prospect of meteoric advancement - or at least leapfrogging the rest of my management group - was my predominant state of mind.

"Relax yourself, you're not on parade any longer." Melissa had kicked off her shoes and was clinking around in the large bar section over in one corner. When I compared the extensive suite with my own dingy box, from which the Company had thoughtfully arranged to have the minibar removed, in some far flung annexe of the main hotel, it was hard to believe that they were part of the same building. This was obviously the place they put the hotel inspectors up when they were awarding stars.

Melissa came over holding two glasses of red wine, one of which she place on the marble coffee table. I perched stiffly on the edge of the cream leather sofa smoothing down my skirt, trying to look relaxed and brightly attentive at the same time.

"I suppose you've heard all sorts of awful things about me," she smiled, cupping the bowl of the wine glass between her hands.

I grinned nervously, "well, you know, people say all sorts of silly things, just jealousy I suppose."

"You suppose?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, well, that is I didn't mean to suggest that I believed them." My face burned red. Two minutes in and I'd blown it already.

"Oh, but you should." She was smiling again. "They're all true. Apart from the witchcraft and human sacrifices of course. Well, maybe.." she bent forward and sniffed lightly behind my right ear, "just the occasional human sacrifice."

I smiled back in relief, although an impartial observer would probably have described it as simpering.

"It's certainly true, for example that I favour female executives.." The .favour. carried the merest ghost of an emphasis. "..and, yes I think a certain ..preference.. is in order, ..traditional.. Ways are not necessarily the best." She looked me straight in the eye. "What do you think?"

Decision time. And no decision at all really. I'm a pragmatist. Favours for favours I could deal with no problem. I smiled: this was going to be easy.

"I think us girls should stick together." I said coquettishly. I wondered if I should flutter my eyelashes, but settled for adding "Closely."

To my surprise she winced slightly, but then sat beside me as I slid back into the thick cushions, far more relaxed now then ground rules had been settled.

She proffered the glass of wine to me, but withdrew it with an "uh-uh" when I reached for it. She brought it to my lips and as I sipped the heavy red wine she stroked my hair and gave my ear lobe an experimental nibble. "So you want to be one of the favoured girls, do you?"

She put the wineglass down and walked round the sofa to stand behind me. While she stroked my cheek with one hand, she slipped the other inside my blouse to explore. "Do you like playing... little games as well?" My nipple grew hard under her soft caresses she rolled it between thumb and finger.

"Well uh, yes, I'm er pretty open minded" I replied as confidently as I could, although I wondered where the conversation was leading.

Now she was nuzzling at the back of my neck and sending delightful kiss shivers down my back. "Oh I do hope you're the playful sort: I felt sure you were." Her tongue flicked and probed around the corner of my mouth. "Let's see shall we?" And with that she stood up abruptly and walked over to a side table on which lay a large attache case.

She opened the case just far enough to withdraw a long heavy looking dark brown leather strap. I think I went quite pale as she turned to me and stroked it suggestively across her hand. "What do you think of this then?"

I was still staring at it in horror when she compounded my shock by tossing it across to me, draping herself over the back of an armchair and saying, quite calmly "Why don't you try it out?" Just to make sure I got the message clearly she pulled her knickers down to her knees and flipped up her skirt to present a clear target.

The sight of her creamy smooth skin, pale and unmarked was mesmerising. I slowly reached over to pick up the strap from the sofa beside me and turned it over in my hands. It was far heavier than I expected, and not stiff but sinuously flexible.

"Well come on then!" The slightly sharp note in Melissa's voice jerked me out of my reverie.

I walked over, the strap dangling awkwardly from my hand. She wriggled her bottom slightly, thrusting it towards me provocatively, and I gave it a tentative slap with the slap.

Melissa sighed in an exasperated tone, "Not like that, do it hard, as hard as you like."

My next effort was as hard as I dared and I was appalled to see a broad red mark blossoming.

"Never felt a thing," said Melissa "try again. And not just one, try for a couple of really hard strokes."

I was amazed at her apparent indifference to the strap and tried to lay on two heavy strokes. The sound echoed round the room and the strap left two glaring red marks on her bottom, but she just remarked "That was pathetic: a ten year old could hit harder than that. I thought you might be something special but you seem pretty feeble really."

That annoyed me and I laid on the strap with every ounce of force I could muster. The sound of the impact reverberated around the room and I felt sure that someone, everyone, would come bursting in to see what the commotion was. But the silence that followed was undisturbed as Melissa reached behind her and delicately felt the raised weal brought up by the last stroke.

She stood up, pulling up her knickers and smoothing down her skirt and came over to me. Her voice sounded slightly husky as she said "Now that was much better, I knew you had it in you." and pulled me into a close embrace and deep lingering kiss.

Her fingers coiled into my hair and locked me on to her: her other hand caressing me and squeezing me close so that I felt the hard press of her body against my sex, and mine against hers. She slowly propelled me backwards, half walking, half mounting me, as we edged through into the bedroom, where we collapsed on to the bed. Her rubbing up against me became more insistent and I felt as if my leg was being crushed as she clamped her legs around it and rode me to a grunting climax.

After a few moments her body relaxed and she disengaged from me. "Poor baby, now I've gone and messed up all your clothes." Which was true: there were stray lipstick marks on my blouse and a large damp patch on my thigh.

"Here, let me help you with those tights..." and in a moment her hands were sliding up my skirt and whipping down my tights in one practised movement. "...and let's see about getting that blouse cleaned..." She was kneeling astride me, unbuttoning my blouse and pulling it off in seconds.

I lay back under the press of her body as she surrendered to gravity and I squashed back into the pillows. She grasped my left wrist and secured it to a free end of rope secured at the other end to the bedpost. I wriggled ineffectually under the pinion of her weight as she repeated the process on the other side. She began to slide off me, pausing on the way to unclip my skirt and pull it free.

I kicked about in protest, but the ropes had been expertly knotted.

"Say bye-bye to your panties, darling," she grinned, as she brushed aside my flailing legs and pulled them down and off. She pulled out the ends of another length of rope form where they had been tucked out of sight under the bedclothes, caught my ankle and again using her body to press me flat, secured one, then the other leg to the bed.

I glared at her and pulled against the ropes again. "OK, you've had your fun, now let me go."

"Had my fun? Whatever do you mean: we've hardly got together yet, darling. There's lots more fun to come yet."

"Maybe, but I don't want to play. I'm not into this and it *isn't* my idea of fun."

Melissa gave me a mock pout and massaged her bottom suggestively. "And you seemed such a willing player earlier, and so good at it. Look at my poor bottom. After all..." she came closer, bending over me and tracing circles and whirls on my bare stomach with a long fingernail ".. I don't want to do anything *heavy*,...like you did to me....just have a little fun, sweetiepie."

She stood up. "But first I must just freshen up". And with that she disappeared into the other room and I heard the sound of the shower going.

When she returned some ten minutes later she'd changed, tidied up her makeup and was looking as fresh and professional as ever. She sat beside my spreadeagled body and started kissing me lightly on my stomach and thighs. I wriggled slightly but continued to wheedle at her to untie me. She worked her upwards, pausing only to unclip my bra and remove it, completing my nudity. Her gentle nibbling at my breasts increased the warm feeling between my legs, but as I couldn't even squeeze my legs together it was becoming more of a torment than a pleasure and I continued my demands to be released.

She placed a finger on my lips and said "Not another word now, honey, or I'll have to put a stop to it." And keeping her finger across my lips she swept her other hand over me in strong sensuous curves, massaging and teasing me. I groaned slightly and she murmured, "That's OK, enjoy it, just don't speak."

She moved down and her hair brushed lightly across me as she bent down and began to nibble lightly at the inside of my thighs. My hips began to buck and twitch. Her teeth nipped me sharply, and again, and again. I wriggled and wriggled and pulled against my bonds and Moaned at her to stop it. Or do it. Or something.

She looked up and tut tutted in mock sternness. "Now I did say not a word, not a single word, didn't I? So I'm afraid I'm going to have to gag you, aren't I?"

"No you're not; you're not going to gag ME!" I was outraged.

But she just patted my cheek gently and said "Poor baby, you have so much to learn...."

She disappeared into the other room and came back carrying a roll of silvery tape. I stared at it dumbstruck. I couldn't believe that she was really serious.

Again she sat down beside me and stroked my cheek. "Now understand, I'm going to gag you, but if you co-operate it'll be quite easy. And I don't want to make it too uncomfortable for you. Unless I have to."

She stood up, but continued to stroke my cheek softly. "Now open your mouth for me."

I lay still as she stroked and caressed and gently pulled my mouth open. "Good girl," she whispered softly, and kept my mouth open with the lightest of finger pressures while she reached under her skirt and withdrew a crumpled ball of fabric. I flinched and tried to draw back as she squeezed the damp knickers into tight wad and forced them into my mouth. I heaved at overwhelming musky odour that clung to them. They were the pair she had been wearing earlier, saturated with her climax and kept warm and waiting.

She pushed my mouth closed and held her hand over it while my eyes misted over at the humiliation of being treated so. "Gooood girl; now keep your mouth closed," she murmured in my ear, nipping lightly at the lobe.

She rolled off a long length of tape and held it towards me: I could see the little peaks of adhesive, white and stringy looking on the tape and I shook my head: I didn't want that mess adhering to my face.

"Trust me, darling," she whispered "lift you head forward and this won't hurt."

I reluctantly lifted my head and she slipped the tape behind me, sticky side out, so my head rested on the sling of tape in her hands. "Open! And keep your head up!"

She looped the tape around my head to form a tight circle pushing into my mouth. She quickly tore off another strip and placed it on top of the first so the two sticky sides bound together forming a tight and secure circle across my mouth, with barely a hair stuck to it.

I watched in silence as she stepped back and admired her handiwork. I could breathe easily around the tape, but the taste and scent of my captress filled me. She bent over me and kissed me and nibbled at my lips, she gorged herself on my breasts and then stood back licking her lips. She massaged her index finger deep into me and I rocked and moaned into my gag looking for a climax. She withdrew and sucked her finger, luxuriating in the taste.

"Mmmmmm, perhaps I will eat you after all. But first I've got to go to dinner. I'll tell them you're, ah, indisposed. See you in a while."

I screamed muffled abuse into my gag, but she just smiled and paused at the door. "Don't worry, I'll have something brought up by room service later. Spaghetti? Perhaps not. One gets so tied up in it."

She gave a peal of laughter and strode out of the room. I heard her use the bathroom and then she was gone. I lay in frustrated impotence and chewed her knickers to ribbons, waiting for whatever was to come next...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

RRW

[Continued in Executive II]

 

------------------------------

 

To return to the RRW story index click here: To return to the In Company With Pain Femdom stories page, Click here.

Click here to go back to the In Company With Pain home page