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From: tigger@alices.com (tigger)
Subject: (ASSM) Dreamer's Tale Part 1/3 by Tigger&L. Corvidae (FemDom,nc,Romance)
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Dreamer's Tale of Blackmail: The Story from Not Blackmailed.

     By:  Tigger and L. Corvidae

Copyright 1998, All Rights Reserved.

Reposting/Archiving of this story on a site which charges
*no* fee (including so-called "adult checks") is permitted 
provided the story is unchanged and the authorship and the
copyright are noted.

Author's Note:  Not Blackmailed, by Tigger, was posted to ASSM
in Nov 1997, and received a 10-10-10 score from Celeste.  This 
is the story that discussed in that story.

Part 1.

Daniel Stephens sat alone in the eerie gloom of his deserted
office, the greenish radiance of his computer's monitor
providing the only light. The quiet solitude of the empty
building was intermittently broken by the staccato rattling of
frantic keystrokes as Daniel struggled to finish the report
before his boss's hard and fast 9 o'clock deadline.

Satisfied with the last-minute revisions he'd made, Daniel
clicked on "save," though not before adding a "B" to the end
of the filename - thus avoiding the erasure of the earlier,
*error-free* version of the document.

He skimmed over the first few lines of the report as the
sheets slid out of the laser printer. He caught the split
infinitive in the first paragraph and felt a twinge of
satisfaction. It was a little strange, to be so proud of one's
mistakes, but it had been many long months since anything in
the life of Daniel Stephens had seemed even remotely "Normal."

Only now the very abnormality that had marked his life for so
long was swirling crazily into a new and unwelcome sort of
chaos and turbulence. Something was happening - exactly *what
that something was he didn't know what or why - but she was
starting to hold things in and it bothered him.  Far more than
he believed it should or thought it could.

So, he reasoned, maybe she needed an excuse.

The clock at the bottom of the screen told him his time was
scant seconds away from being up, so in a mad rush he shut
down the machine and gathered up the papers and hurried to the
office of Ms. Erin Young.

His boss.

His Mistress.

Daniel caught himself unconsciously sliding his foot back and
forth in the now too-large Italian loafer.  He'd purchased the
loafers to wear with men's socks, but he had dispensed with
the socks in favor of pantyhose at Mistress Erin's orders when
she'd left the office at six p.m. That was his strangely mild
punishment for not finishing the report during the working day
and forcing *her* to return from *her* Friday night
entertainments in order to review the report. She'd only
assigned it to him at three o'clock, but the fact that the
report could not humanly have been completed in that little
time was not relevant. It was almost like in the early days,
when she'd routinely set him up to fail.

Except that instead of one of the sly - almost menacing -
smiles she'd throw him after those hopelessly impossible
"requests," she'd dumped this latest task in his lap with a
heavy sigh.

*That* wasn't like her at all, and he almost looked forward to
her blowing her stack when she read what he was about to give
her.   

Almost. 

~------------~

Erin Young took one last look at the official letter held
limply in her right hand, and wondered again at the lack of
elation the notice aroused in her heart.

"I should be happy," she told herself firmly as if willing
herself to believe it. "Dammit, I should be *proud*."  

But she wasn't feeling either of those emotions.  All she felt
was a strange emptiness inside.

A soft rapping at her office door broke through her trance.

"Enter," she ordered with an affected snarl of contempt. She
did so for his sake, really. After all, with everything that
had passed between them, she wasn't sure he would even know
how to deal with her outside of the roles she had so carefully
scripted for them.

Then again, she wasn't sure she knew how to deal with him
without those roles, either.

And that realization scared the living hell out of her.
    
He entered, and she was, for a moment, taken with how similar,
and yet how very different, he was to the cocky boy who had
strutted  into her office two years earlier.

And he had been a boy - there was no mistaking that -
regardless of his age and experience. Talented, to be sure,
but lazy, too. In those early days, he had relied heavily on
his leading man good looks and charisma to dodge hard work.
He'd cut quite a swath through the ladies in the office,
single and attached alike, though when it came to the boss,
his superficial charm kept running smack into a brick wall. 
Not that she wouldn't have enjoyed having him - *her* way -
but her position in the "good ole boy" controlled corporate
structure had simply been too tenuous for her to take the
chance.

Remembering him as he had been in those days, it was
impossible for Erin not to get a thrill - a tingling sensation
that started at the back of her neck and eventually traveled
through her entire body - every time he knelt before her. Even
at this very moment, weary and saddened as she was, watching
him gracefully drop to his knees sent a much welcomed frisson
of pleasure through her.

He seemed to glide across the carpet, head bowed in
supplication. He reached her desk and meekly handed over the
sheaf of papers, maintaining his subservient pose as she
looked the report over.

A cursory glance brought a weary groan from her lips. He'd
made a horrible mess of it - almost as if on purpose. For a
moment, she actually felt oddly touched at what seemed an
obvious attempt to get a rise out of her. But of course, that
was the sort of tacky, foolish stunt that a "genuine"
submissive would pull, and Daniel was anything but that.

Deliberate or not, it was a damned frustrating thing for
Daniel to do. The report hadn't been some little test or
dommely game; but rather a genuine, honest-to-god,
had-to-get-done report; the demanding nature of which had been
brought about by the insanity of corporate culture rather than
any impish malice on her part.

She wondered for a moment if he was beginning to backslide on
her.  The thought caused her heart to sink. If that was true,
it couldn't have happened at a worse time.

While Erin's heart sank slowly in her chest, Daniel waited,
trembling with anticipation. He had learned quickly enough
that the waiting was the worst of it: the nerve wracking
combination of adrenalin and an imagination let free to run
wild.

Finally, after waiting for what seemed like a little *too*
long, he cautiously peeked up at her from under his lashes and
saw to his surprise that she had set aside his report and was
instead staring intently at a slightly wrinkled piece of
paper.

Erin visibly shook herself to break the single minded grip it
had on her and looked down at her slave.

"You have your A.A. meeting tonight."  It was not a question
because she had kept careful track of his recovery.

"Yes, Mistress Young." he answered, using her mandated title.
As a slave, she had said, he was unworthy to even speak her
given name, even if proceeded by her honorific of Mistress.
Something else Daniel had learned early and painfully in her
service.

"I do have one scheduled for tonight, Mistress Young, although
I will be a little late for it." In fact, he would have
happily skipped it altogether. It had been well over a year
since he'd last felt the slightest desire for a drink, and
even his recent concern over his Mistress's somber mood hadn't
been enough to resurrect those old demons.

But she insisted he continue with the program, and the penalty
for skipping a meeting was still the same as it had been from
the beginning: a punishment session in her dungeon the likes
of which he would never forget. (Nor had he.)

Still, whenever they talked about turning your life over to a
higher power, he always had to suppress a giggle.

"Your report is shit and you know it, dani," she said coldly.
"Have something that I can actually submit ready by noon
tomorrow. Then we're going to go to my house.  Be prepared to
spend the rest of the weekend.  When you leave there on Monday
morning, you will be coming straight here. Are we clear on
this, dani?"

The utterly toneless voice chilled Daniel to the bone, making
him wish fervently that he had not been quite so generous
inserting errors into that report.  The only time he could
remember her voice sounding like that had been the one and
*only* instance he'd chosen her dungeon over another "stupid
meeting with all those whining goofs."  He could still recall
that awful, emotionless voice, asking him again and again as
that night in Hell progressed, "So this is better than your
stupid meeting?" and "Who is whining now, you stupid goof?"

"Are we clear on this, dani?" she asked again, each word
separated and clipped.

"Oh, yes, Mistress Young." Daniel shuddered as he made his
bowing obeisance, his forehead touching the floor at her feet,
before crawling backwards out the door.  

Sweet Jesus.  What *had* he just done?

~---------------~

What had ultimately laid Daniel Stephens low had not been the
booze - that had really been little more than a symptom.

The thing that had ultimately brought him down - two things,
really - had been a pair of sparkling blue eyes that had
belonged to a girl named Donna. Her beauty, her grace, her
simple and wonderful humanity had cut through his cynical
slickster shell in a way that no one, least of all Daniel,
could ever have believed possible.

He had loved her desperately. And then she'd left him.

Under ordinary circumstances, Erin would have been content
simply to sit back and savor the simple justice of the
situation, but reality denied her that pleasure.  In those
precious few weeks when Daniel had thought he'd stumbled onto
true love in spite of himself, the potential that had always
lurked so frustratingly close to the surface had broken
through.

His work became sharp, focused, brilliant. He became a
wunderkind within the company, and she was regarded as a
wunderkind, too, for having stuck with him throughout his
insufferable "infancy."

So, instead of being able to sit back and relish the
proceedings as another macho creep got his just desserts, Erin
Young had suddenly found herself in the thoroughly
uncomfortable position of having her wagon hitched to an star
that was rapidly burning itself out. The stylish suits began
to show up at work wrinkled and the Hollywood looks became
sullied with stubble and dark bags under bloodshot eyes. He
would come back late from lunch, and sometimes he didn't even
bother to try to cover the alcohol on his breath.

At the time, she'd known she'd had every reason to fire him,
but she'd discovered that the glass ceiling was a lot more
fragile when you were standing on top of it then when you were
trying to break through it from below. Talk had already begun
to spread that she couldn't "handle the situation" and she'd
had no doubt that firing the company's newest golden boy -
tarnished or no - would be the final piece of ammo her critics
would need to claim she had no business "playing with the big
boys."

Her decision, to give Daniel complete and total responsibility
for the Pacific Rim presentation, had been the equivalent of a
Hail Mary pass. She'd hoped the pressure of landing a big
account would kick-start something inside of him. If only she
had known just *how* big the account was going to be for the
company, she would never have done it.  *So* big, in fact,
that when she found out, she'd literally gone right from her
boss's office to the executive washroom and had thrown up.

On the morning of the presentation, Daniel had been nowhere to
be found. A frantic search of his desk and his computer had
turned up nothing to show for the weeks he'd had to prepare,
despite his having assured her at every step that everything
was "just fucking peachy." When he finally did show up, just
minutes ahead of the Pacific Rim people, he'd been so drunk
that Erin literally had to drag him into her office - mostly
to get him out of sight.

She'd dumped his comatose body unceremoniously on the floor
and then had spent the ten most frantic and terrifying minutes
of her life hammering away at her laptop, cobbling together a
slipshod piece of smoke and mirrors. Nevertheless, she'd still
managed to sell the Pacific Rim people at the presentation
itself, relying entirely on her indomitable will to push the
deal through.
    
By the time she had returned to her office, she'd been elated,
but completely drained. Unfortunately for him, Daniel had
still been there, on her office floor - snoring away and lying
in a pool of piss.
    
Erin had taken one look at him, closed the door, and then
walked over to the phone on her desk. She'd called one of her
most ardent submissive admirers, and had ordered the girl to
come by Erin's office immediately.    
    
And to... "bring a few things with her."

~---------------~

Daniel hadn't realized it at the time, but when he finally
awoke from his drunken stupor, he had entered an entirely new
life in an entirely new world.

Amazingly, he had remained dead-to-the-world for the entire
ride out to the "suburban-rural" demarcation line, where Erin
owned a spacious, executive style house on a generous, two
acre lot, nicely wooded for privacy.

He came to with a leather hood covering his eyes, and with a
painful sensation between his legs unlike anything he had ever
known before. He had been bound spread-eagled in a standing
position, and almost immediately, he'd started to fight
against the restraints.

Erin had simply watched, quietly amused, from the comfort of
her wide-backed rattan chair. The more he'd struggled, the
more the weights dangling from the parachute spreader had
swung, yanking his testicles without mercy.

Finally, when his efforts threatened to wane, she'd set down
the glass of Chablis she'd been savoring, picked up her crop,
and said, "Things aren't so fucking peachy now, are they,
dani?"

At the sound of her voice, he'd exploded, unleashing a stream
of obscenity laden threats while renewing his fight against
his bonds with impressive, though futile, vigor.

She'd allowed him to spew and rage without interruption,
watching with marked delight as he'd slowly but surely worn
himself out. Eventually he could do little more than hang
limply from his fetters, chin sunk low to his heaving chest,
sputtering wordlessly through the cascade of sweat that poured
down his face.

It was only then that she'd advanced.

"dani, dani, dani," she'd clucked mockingly as she'd begun to
circle him. Erin remembered the dark pleasure she'd tasted as
she had reached down between his legs and played with the tip
of his cock for a moment.

"No wonder she left you," she'd whispered into his ear.

"You cocksucking bitch!" he'd hissed, rallying for one last
pathetic attempt to break free, but she'd shut him down short
with a swift, brutal slash to his ass with her whip.  Fear and
pain finally overtook his anger and he began to break down in
tears.

"Oh, boo hoo hoo! Life's full of little tragedies, dani! Life
goes on, and you had a fucking job to do and you left me
twisting in the fucking wind!" She'd punctuated her sentence
with another hard stroke and had him sobbing inconsolably by
then.

"Well, now it looks like I'm going to have to 'handle' this
little situation we have with you, dani. The by-the-book
response to this kind of shit is an entry in your personnel
record, and a referral to a substance abuse program.  That
program is even covered in our health plan, so it would not
cost you *anything*. But I don't really think that's the route
I want to take with you.  No, dani-boy, that is just too
fucking easy on you."

"So here's the deal, dani. As of right this second, you have
precisely two, and I mean *only* two options. Either agree to
become my sex slave - and I mean 'slave' in every sense of the
word, dani - or not only will I fire you, I will put such a
stinking stain on your reputation that you won't be able to
get a job on this entire coast! Not even flipping burgers!"

"You can't do this!" he'd wailed.

"Newsflash dani!" she'd hissed right back at him. "Right now I
can do whatever the fuck I want with you!" To emphasize her
point, she'd given the dangling weights a hard kick causing
him to howl in pain.

"Your participation in this decision is merely a courtesy. In
fact, if you don't make up your mind in the next thirty
seconds, you get cut from the process altogether!"

His mind had reeled with all that was at stake. His apartment,
his clothes, his car - all the things his high-paying job
could provide for him. Versus.... what? What did it mean,
really, to be her slave 'in every sense of the word'? Already
his mind had started recovering and he'd begun to see definite
possibilities in the "sex" aspect of being Erin Young's "sex
slave." And besides, sooner or later she'd get bored with the
game and cut him loose. By then, he'd doubtless be in the
position to bring the mother of all sexual harassment lawsuits
against her and the company if she tried to can him.

Erin had only watched the sly smile curl at the corner of his
lips before answering it with a triumphant grin of her own.

She'd set down the crop and walked over to were she kept the
big, slotted paddles.

"Let's get started, then," she'd purred. "Shall we?"

~---------------~

Any notion that Daniel had cherished that he could turn the
situation around on her had been beaten out of him that
evening. Erin had only just broken up with a sub who had been
an expert at topping from below, and so she'd been especially
primed to spot and shut down the slightest hint of that
nonsense in her new slave. What's more, she'd worked out a lot
of her lingering anger towards her ex on Daniel's luckless
backside.

When she had finished, she'd loosened his bonds and had
ordered him to kneel.

And he had. Sometime, during that hours-long assault - there
was really no other word to describe what she had done to him
- he'd surrendered.

After that, life had become pure, unadulterated fun - at least
for Erin.  All of her darkest, most secret fantasies of truly
nonconsensual submission had been there for her - in the body
and blood of one Daniel Stephens.  

At last she truly *owned* a slave who could not say no to her,
who was not permitted any silly limits that would interfere
with her pleasure.  A slave who had no choice but to do
exactly what she demanded of him, when she demanded it of him. 


And she had demanded - oh, how she had demanded.

But even with such absolute power, she'd been subtle; careful
not to gorge on the delicacies of his fear, his self disgust
and his humiliation.  As she always had with her *voluntary*
submissives, she'd worked relentlessly to discover what
Daniel's hot buttons were - all those dark little fears and
fantasies that sometimes called to him, but more often
repelled him.

With her previous subs, her purpose had been to uncover,
before the fact, the types of play or the secret, hidden
limits that had to be approached with caution with that
particular playmate.  Or  worse, those that simply had to be
avoided altogether. That was, as the responsible dominant
partner, one of her most important obligations in her
"normal," consensual, mutually rewarding D/s relationships.  

Only the relationship she'd intended to have with Daniel would
be nothing like those earlier ones.  In her mind, she'd been
under no such obligation to protect *him* - and thus her
relationship with him - in that way. What she'd wanted to know
with *Daniel* was where to push for the most devastating
effect.  She'd wanted to take him into those dark, unlit
corners of the mind where monsters lurk and the air is heavy
with real terror and real shame.

And she had.

She had also ordered him to start attending A.A. meetings. Not
out of any real concern for him, but because she refused to
suffer a drunkard for a slave.  Alcohol, after all,
anaesthetized those nerve endings and blocked those darker
emotions she most wanted to play with and to torment. Still,
Daniel hadn't derived any immediate benefit from attending,
largely because he had not at that time admitted his addiction
to himself.  But he *had* stopped drinking.

She had taken over other parts of his life as well; dictating
his diet and ordering him to get into top physical condition.
The latter had been a particularly painful process for him,
both because of how much he'd let himself go, and because of
Mistress Young's special brand of "motivation." Three times a
week she'd weigh him, measure him and then, she'd run him. 
Five grueling miles.  Over very hilly terrain.  And while he
had to run her specified course, she would always ride
alongside him on her mountain bike, keeping up easily, all the
while describing for him in minute detail the price he'd pay
if he did not complete the course in an acceptable time.

She really had been hell on wheels with him in those early
days. Sometimes she'd felt drunk, literally *drunk* - an irony
that did not escape her - on those first heady tastes of near
absolute power. She'd absolutely loved finding fault with
something about his slavish performance on almost a daily
basis, and then naturally, punishing him for each of those
faults - sometimes quite brutally.

Within a few weeks of claiming him, she'd become greatly
annoyed his complete inability to give a woman pleasure. Given
his former status as the office Lothario, she'd expected much
better from him.  Unfortunately, Erin had quickly learned that
he was of the "wham bam" school of sex. The man had absolutely
no idea how to properly worship a woman with his mouth and
there was no way she was going to let him use any other part
of his male anatomy on her - he might inadvertently enjoy that
experience. She still wondered if his deficiencies as a lover
hadn't been what had cost him his Donna after all.

Inadequacies were one thing, but when Daniel had shown zero
enthusiasm for improving his technique, Erin had pushed the
first of his buttons and she'd pushed it hard.  

Mr. Macho was almost pathologically heterosexual. 

By then, she had more than just the threat of termination over
him; she also had the beginnings of a detailed and graphic
portfolio of lovely photographs and videos of "dani" in all
sorts of compromising positions.  Items which, as she seldom
failed to point out, could be on the Internet within a matter
of seconds following any failure to submit to her slightest
wish.

Wielding this latest threat of exposure like a cudgel, she'd
taken him to a private club called the Barracks.  Inside that
spartan, boot camp-like environment, several Masters had
willingly and forcibly taught her slave how to suck cock,
since, after all, he couldn't seem to be bothered to learn how
to eat pussy with any degree of skill.  The training had taken
the better part of a weekend, but it had been worth it, for
Erin at least, as a much chastened, much more malleable slave
had crawled back into Erin's house forty eight hours later.  

She still got hot every time she watched the videos of his
harsh and painful introduction into bisexuality.  The cross
eyed look of shocked dismay in the close up shot of that first
penis sliding past his lips.  The tearing mask of abject and
total humiliation on his cum drenched face as another of the
Masters had wrung an unwilling orgasm from him in the course
of the rough love play.

Of course, she'd ordered him to give the Masters to understand
that he was just another smart assed sub who, once having
agreed to the training, wanted to resist and to be "forced"
into surrender.  She'd even directed him to negotiate a safe
word with the Masters before the training had begun, just so
they would not get overly suspicious - or overly careful. 
Only Erin and Daniel had known the truth - that he'd had no
choice and less desire - or the price Daniel would have paid
if he had been so foolish as to actually *use* the safe word.

Out of necessity, she had informed a handful of her closest
friends of her latest conquest. It was a security measure more
than anything else, since there were times when she fully
intended to push Daniel so far that she could not be certain
of how he might react.  Although she'd pegged him as your
basic bully - loud but cowardly and therefore not a threat to
her - even the meekest animal will attack if pressed too far
into those dark, terror-filled corners she planned on
exploring with her slave boy.  In case he ever became truly
violent, she'd need assistance close at hand to help control
him. 

Instead, she had actually ended up losing some of those
friends when they'd reacted with horror to her blatant
trampling of their revered credo of "Safe, Sane, and
Consensual."

But at the time, the loss of those friendships had bothered
her not at all.

~---------------~


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