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Subject: {ASS/M} Clockwork by Adrian Hunter (bdsm)
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Clockwork
By Adrian Hunter


"Damn it, these numbers are from last month!"

"I'm sorry, Eileen, but some of the field people haven't..."

"That isn't what I want to hear right now!"

Easy, girl.

"Your job..."

Not the poor thing's fault.

"Is to make sure..."

Is my face as flushed as it feels?

"That they file..."

Am I perspiring as much as I think I am?

"Their reports..."

Does she notice how far I'm leaning forward?

"On time."

Deep breath.

"I really don't think that's unreasonable, do you?"

Force a grin.

There.

She doesn't look so scared anymore.

"I'll call the late ones first thing after lunch."

"Good.  Tell them better you than me."

Now she's brightening up a little.

"Please close the door on your way out, will you?"

Slam.

Oh, god.

I am going to kill that ratfucking bastard for this.

Eileen tried shifting her ass again, but nothing helped.

She swore she could count every single link grinding away between her legs.

She knew she was in trouble when he woke up with that smile of his.  The one
that meant he had been shopping.  The one that meant he had a game to play.

"Don't get dressed after your shower."

"Come here, dear."

"Hands behind your head, please."

"Spread your feet apart a little."

"Relax.  Don't fight it."

Still, he had taken his sweet time to work the new plug into her.  At least it
was one of those pliable ones that bent and flexed like a rubber dog toy.  Not
huge.  More like perpetually annoying.  And Eileen knew that the metal ring
screwed into its base meant trouble.

As did the jar of strangely-colored nail polish he pulled out of his pocket. 
Only she didn't know it until he started brushing it around the little gold
balls that connected the ends of the rings piercing her nipples. Her birthday
present. To him.

Definitely not her shade, she decided as she watched him apply a thick coat to
the screws, creating a seal that would be easily detected if broken.

He must have discovered her collection of unsuccessful makeup purchases and
mixed up a special batch.  Even Urban Decay would be impressed by the
not-found-in-nature ugliness of his custom hue.  Fat chance she could even come
close to replicating it herself.

Then again, he always did fancy himself an artist.

He reached into his shopping bag and produced a very long chain and five tiny
padlocks for her inspection.

She stared at it, trying to force back a sudden queasy feeling.

He centered the shiny strand and circled the ends around her waist.  She heard
a faint click behind her, just above her ass.

His fingers threaded the two resulting lengths of links between her cheeks,
then Eileen sensed him fiddling with the ring in the base of the plug.

Uh oh.

Click.

Up they came in front of her waist.

Tug.

Wait...too ti...

Click, just below her navel.

He triangulated what was left of the two pieces of the chain toward her
nipples, but they didn't...quite...reach.

Pinch.

Pull.

Further.

Oh...

Click.

No...

Click.

"See you tonight, my love," he whispered urgently in her ear, emphasizing the
word "tonight" so it made her gasp.

Eileen stared at the stock quotes scrolling horizontally across the bottom of
her computer monitor.  Gotta get it together here, gotta focus, just ignore the
throbbing, the burning, the screaming, the...

Her right hand absentmindedly wandered down to her thigh, then started to roam
up under her skirt.

Jesus!

Are you going to do yourself at your desk?

She tried to find a comfortable compromise between impale and distend, but even
hunching all the way over didn't help much.

Gotta get this competitive update done, I wonder what I'll have to do to get
him to unlock me tonight, a hundred phone calls to return, he'll probably make
me suck him off for an hour while he plays with my tits, why is our stock down,
I am going to make him beg like a dog locked in a kennel next to a bitch in
heat, what time is that meeting with accounting anyway, my underwear is really
soaked...

Stop it!

Fuck it.

She closed her eyes and began plotting her revenge while her fingers pressed
hard between the chains buried deep inside her.

Him tied naked to a chair.  Legs spread.  Hands lashed to the arms.  Lots of
rope around his chest and waist and thighs, too.  Thrashproof.  Not going
anywhere soon.

The big ball gag...no, mouth stuffed with my panties, maybe two pairs, and
sealed with duct tape.  Plug his ears.  Then, the leather helmet laced tight
around his head.  Deaf, dumb, blind, oblivious to any sensation but my touch.

Nibble on his nipples until he's ready to die.  Wait until he's seconds from
exploding.  Then, a slipknot around the base of his cock.  Pull it tight.  Wrap
that weasel like a mummy, round and round until its head turns purple.

The tweezer clamps.  Up goes the ring...too much, love?  Too fucking bad.  No
safewords or signs for you tonight.  Hmm, maybe I'd better add some bondage
mittens to his hands.

Tie what's left of the cord to the chain between the clamps.  A bit of a
stretch, as they say.  Stand up and salute, buster.

Maybe another slipknot around his balls.  A pleasing squeezing.

Fetch his razor.

Squirt goes the foam.

Slip, slide, scrape, smooth.

Oooh, sensitive, aren't we?

Here, let's try a feather.

My fingernails.

An ice cube.

A candle.

What was that, dear?  More?  My...my...my...

Pleasure...

Sweet merciful Jesus...

Eileen lay her forehead down on her desk and shuddered like a racehorse after
running in a downpour, heart pounding, breath rasping, sweat drenching her
clothes.

The digital clock on her desk read 9:48.

___________________________________________
Story archive: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Gallery/9911/door.html
Mail: adrianhunter-at-geocities-dot-com


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