Working Away, Part 2 of 2,  (BDSM, Mf)
Working Away, Part 


Part III

Not long into their delicious kiss, Sara felt Jeffrey's arousal pressing into
her belly.  Her seductive slide across his chest and hips was prolonging the
arousal, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw a detached, observant
gaze.  He was hard, but not lost in her charms.  To entice him, she playfully
reached between his legs, unzipped his jeans and encircled his cock with her
warm fingers.  "Come on sweetheart, your turn," and she maneuvered his bruised
tip toward her parted legs. 

With discipline and a bit of regret, Jeffrey pushed her back, took firm hold
of her wrists and sat himself upright.  "I will decide when it is time for us
to cum, not you.  Do you understand?  When you are with me, I will be the one
who allows you pleasure.  When you want to cum receives little sympathy,
although I derive tremendous enjoyment from your need."  He got up and walked
into the dimly lit bathroom.  Sara could see his reflection in the glass as he
closed his eyes, ran his fingers down the damp hair on his chest and began to
stroke himself.  She watched in amazement, as he chose his own hand over her
pussy. She had no response except to observe in wonder as he groaned at the
pleasure that shot out the end of his cock. 

Jeffrey slowly cleaned himself.  It had taken all of his willpower to push her
off him and walk into the bathroom.  God, he hated not to indulge himself in
her warmth and flesh.  It was a pity.  But he needed to play the chess game
several moves ahead in his mind.  Tonight's small sacrifice would serve him
well.  All his creativity and cleverness would be required to keep her mind
engaged.

To be controlled and at the whim of a man was not her usual position.  In past
experiences, she had always found it very easy to back men into a corner, to
control the pace and timing of relationships.  Rarely, if ever, was she
surprised.  She often amused herself by toying with the behaviors and egos of
men she encountered.  She wondered if this man was different...how
different...would he change her thinking?

He walked back into the bedroom and extended his hand.  He helped her off of
the bed and gathered her clothing.  With very little conversation he assisted
her dressing.  With every question she began, he placed his finger to her
lips, a request for silence.  He walked her to the door and chastely kissed
her good bye.  "Sara, I will call for you soon."  And with that he left her
perplexed and questioning, standing blankly in the middle of the hallway.  She
now wanted him more than she had ever wanted a man.  She could not wait until
he called and she wanted to know everything about this strange man and his
game.

The next day at work was a test of facade for Sara.  A dozen red roses were
delivered in the middle of her staff meeting, she was annoyed at the
distraction and saw the winks and smiles from her co-workers.  She hated them
knowing anything about her personal life.  "Aren't you going to open the
card?"  " Who are they from?"  When she read the tiny card inserted into the
bouquet, her body temperature flushed.  "The color of these roses can only
come close to the shade of red left on your beautiful bottom last night."  She
was inflamed.

Later that afternoon her secretary placed a box on her desk.  It was wrapped
in the distinctive signature color from Ivy's, an upscale lingerie store.  She
pushed the box under her desk and opened it after she was alone.  The card
lying on the tissue read, "I look forward to freeing you from this later
tonight."

She pulled the paper aside to look at an old fashioned, golden cream satin,
thickly boned corset, something like her grandmother might have worn.  It was
heavy with lots of straps and hooks and designed to keep everything from
shaking.  On an old woman the outfit might look comical, on her it would look
outstanding.

The garment was not what she had expected.  She had never worn and certainly
never needed anything so binding.  She was indignant that he would ask her to
wear it.  He couldn't possibly think that get-up was sexy?

The receptionist rang her later in the day.  "Sara, I have a message from a
Mr. Jeffrey." 

"Oh my God, what now?" she thought.  

"He said that a driver will pick you up at 7:00 p.m. to bring you to dinner.
He wants you to wear what he sent this afternoon.  Does that make any sense,
Sara?"

"Yes, thank you." and she hung up quickly.  He really had a lot of nerve
intruding in her work place, it undercut her authority.  She assured herself
that she would let him know, in no uncertain terms, that his behavior was
unacceptable.  But anger aside, she was still curious.  She wouldn't miss
meeting him.

She stepped out of the tub and did her hair and make-up.  She enjoyed the
ritual.  It was 6:30 and it was time to get into the corset.  It took close
examination to figure out what went where as she laced the ties and fastened
the dozens of eyehooks.  She had to inhale sharply to close the final hooks.
He had misguessed her size by one.  The bone stays forced her back ramrod
straight and nipped her waist uncomfortably.  The heavy elastic pressed on her
stomach and molded her breasts, the flesh swelled over the top of the demi-
cups.  She was accustomed to high cut bikinis briefs that felt like feathers
and was surprised at the tight pressure exerted as the snug fabric pulled over
her waist, ass, hips and finally ended like a 1950s bathing suit across her
upper mid thigh.  It was a Lycra squeeze and heavy, but as she looked at
herself in the mirror she had to admit, there was a certain fetish genius in
his selection. She was a 1990s muscle buffed Rita Hayworth.  "Not bad,
Jeffrey."

The driver maneuvered through town to her dinner destination.  He said
nothing, except to ask her if she wanted a different music selection.  She
declined.  She didn't hear the music anyway.  The corset was a distraction.
It cut into her waist and rubbed under her armpit.

When they neared the restaurant, the driver slowed and turned to hand her a
slim box.  "These are from Jeffrey.  You will want to wear them later.  They
may prevent your wrists from chaffing, if you struggle against the ropes."

She was mute with indignity at this stranger who was more aware of her evening
than she.  None the less, she fingered the cream elbow length evening gloves
that felt smooth and elegant to the touch.  She tucked them into her purse as
she left the car.

Jeffrey was waiting at the table as she made her way to him.  He stood and met
her half way, greeting her with a radiant smile.  "You look beautiful,
sweetheart."  He handed her a single blood red rose and winked.  Ignoring the
diners around him who might be watching, his hand cupped her still sore ass
and he pulled her to him to meet with a kiss.  He worked his hand up the back
of her dress feeling the corset.  "You look stunning, thank you for wearing my
gift.  How do you feel?"

The day's humiliation spit out, "How do I feel?  My behind is still throbbing.
You embarrassed me at work.  I'm pinched in this heavy girdle and that damned
driver of yours must have thought I was a whore.  That's how I feel."  She
pouted trying to regain some footing.

Jeffrey's smile faded.  "Stop whining, it doesn't flatter you, besides, you
have nothing to protest yet.  This is what I have selected for you, they are
my requests of you.  Let's enjoy our meal.  I want to share your company and
watch you dine."  Her grievance had little effect on him