Golden Handcuffs Pt. 01

Hanna Ellis stepped into the small private bathroom that was nestled into the back corner of her office. She looked into the mirror, appraising the woman who looked back at her. Her long, blonde hair was pulled up into a loose bun, her makeup, lightly accenting the features of her face. Her outfit was designer, a charcoal jacket and pencil skirt over a silk burgundy blouse. This particular look was picked up from a tailor just outside of Rome. The clothes were tailored to fit her five-foot, ten-inch frame in a way that was snug around all of the right curves. She was cute. Professional, but cute.

She stepped back into her office. It was neat, comfortable, and eerily sterile. Everything was personalized. On the left wall, a series of frames displayed her diplomas, certifications, and qualifications among very generic pictures of exotic places. Below the frames, a small bar. A crystal decanter of amber fluid and matching glasses glimmered in the fluorescent light. The right wall was split between a full bookshelf and a small closet.

Her desk was a thing of wonder and pride. Hand crafted mahogany. The desk was tall, made even more so by the platform that it sat on, like a stage. Her chair was equally tall. The height was strategic. It gave her a position of power, being able to loom over whoever sat in one of the large comfortable chairs in front of the desk.

Her office was personalized, but not personal. She was a corporate monster, an ice queen, ruthless, effective, and all of the other things that one might assume... at least, that was the image she displayed to the world.

The windows to the outside office were covered with blinds, but she could hear it coming to life. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to nine. She threw open the door of her office and stepped out.

"Oof!" A mousy young woman exclaimed, as she collided with the department head. The girl fell to the floor, spilling an armful of papers. Hanna looked down at the girl, her face expressionless. Young, maybe all of twenty years old, one of the interns, eager but timid. "You made a mess." Hanna snarled in a cool tone, her jaw tight. The girl fixed her glasses and scooped up the papers. She opened her mouth, probably to let out some half-witted apology, but all that came out was a squeak, before she scurried away. Mousy....

Hanna scanned the outer office. Her cool, blue eyes fixed on a man in his mid-thirties. He was sitting on the edge of a desk, leaning into a cubicle and talking to the man inside. "Huer." Her voice was crisp and carried through the office. The man jumped at her calling his name. Travis Huer, from IT looked at her, a guilty grin still half on his face. "This is my house. It's under my rule." She watched as his grin faltered. "The people in my department have work to do. Go distract someone else." He didn't say anything. He gave the man in the cubicle an apologetic shrug and hurried away.

She stepped back in her office. The corners of her mouth curled up just a bit, almost a satisfied grin. She stepped up on her platform to her desk. She sat down and touched the top drawer. She let out a longing sigh and shuddered. The real woman was tucked away in there. Hanna longed to let her be free. Instead, she started up her computer and went to work. Only half of her mind was committed to the tasks at hand. The other half drifted someplace else...

*

Maskurade wasn't a normal club. It wasn't even what you would call an elite club. There was no velvet rope, where a well-placed bill could get a bouncer to let you past the line. Maskurade was more like a secret society. It was by invitation only. There were rules of etiquette that were strictly enforced. The club was so secretive, that the location was always changing. Hanna had searched exhaustively, trying to find people with desires that matched her own. She had all but given up, when the invitation mysteriously appeared in her mailbox a little over a month before.

Her first event was in a hotel-casino that was never finished. The hotel half, anyway. She walked through the casino, to a back corner. A young man in a suit stood next to a nondescript door. Hanna handed him her invitation. He gave it a look, before handing it back and opening the door. She walked down a long hallway to a desk. A woman greeted her, pulling up her information on a computer. The woman repeated the rules of the house, confirmed her preferences and banking information, fastened a band around Hanna's left wrist, and slid her a welcome package. She pointed toward to a series of doors. "You can prepare in room C."

Hanna stepped into the small dressing room and closed the door. She removed her clothes and placed them with her purse and keys in a small locker. She waved the barcode on her wristband under a scanner and red letters reading "Locked" appeared on the display. She slipped into her lingerie. The black lace of the bra and panties didn't quite conceal her small, pink nipples, or the tight landing strip of her pubic hair. She pulled dark stockings up to mid-thigh and attached them to her garter belt. Next, a pair of suede three-inch pumps.

She examined herself in the mirror for a moment, before the final touches. Hanna pulled her hair up and tied it high on her head. She had kept it in a braid for two days, when she let it out, the locks were full and wavy. She let the golden lengths drift down, dancing and bouncing on her bare shoulders. The last piece was a mask. The mask covered the top half of her face with black feathers, that shimmered like an oil slick. Her crystalline blue eyes peered from beneath the feathers, as she stepped through the second door, into the event that would shape the rest of her life.

*

A knock at her door pulled her back to her office. "Enter" she called distractedly. A tall, thin man scurried in. Hanna barely looked at him. "Tom?" It was the only acknowledgement she gave him. "Uh... sorry to interrupt." He stammered, taking no more than a step into the door, as if he might not make it back out alive. "I'm taking lunch orders. Is there anyth..."

"I'll be eating in." She cut him off, waving her hand. It was all that Tom needed. He darted out of the office, like something had just bit him. Hanna took a second to touch the drawer again, the longing resonating deep within her. She was just about to hit send on an email she had drafted, when her phone chirped. Exasperated, she let out a sigh and looked at the device. A single; curt message was on the display. She let out a surprised gasp.

"7PM Underwear only. Not a second late."

The message was followed with an address. She felt a lump in her stomach as she read the text. Nervous excitement filled her, as memories came flooding back.

*

She felt eyes crawling over her exposed body, as she entered the ballroom. She drifted through the people, noting the curiosity and lust that met her. she made about ten steps, when the first hand found her ass and gave it a squeeze. She stopped, letting the strange man touch her. "Nice and firm." he hissed in her ear. "Thank you, sir." She whispered. He gave her cheek a light smack, sending her on her way with the idea that he might find her later. More hands found her, groping her ass, her breasts, giving her light spanks. A woman in a suit, with a huge mask made of peacock feathers grabbed her breasts with both hands and gave her a good squeeze. Hanna thanked her before being dismissed. A man blocked her path. "Drink it, bitch." He held up a shot glass. Hanna took the drink and downed it. The vodka burned as it went down. A small crowd of people cheered, and he stumbled away.

More touching, more drinks. A man in a suit, that did little to contain his huge belly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close. He reeked of booze. His mask only covered his cruel eyes. His nose was long and hooked, his cheeks heavily pockmarked. "Get on your knees." He slurred. Hanna lowered herself, kneeling in front of the man. He smiled down at her, and she couldn't help but admire the flawless teeth that were hidden behind his dry looking lips. "Hands behind your back." He instructed and she obeyed. She opened her mouth as commanded, and he poured a drink into it. She swallowed the drink, feeling the effects of the alcohol, now. He didn't send her on her way, he just turned around and wandered off.

Hanna didn't move. She knelt there for several minutes. A few more people came by to have a feel. The peacock feathered woman came back around, grabbing her hair and guiding her back to her feet. "He does that to all of the new sluts, honey." She told Hanna, before smacking her ass. "Go be useful."

She should have been repulsed by some of the scene that she was now a part of. Instead, she was exhilarated. What had been experimentation in college, had turned into the discovery of a deep desire. Hanna could control every aspect of her life.... every aspect of her life, except her sexuality. Dark fantasies manifested in her mind about the depraved sexual acts that she would gladly do with the people here, even the disgusting man with the hooked nose and amazing teeth.

She made her way to the bar and caught the bartenders attention. She was about to ask for a water, when a strong hand gripped her shoulder and turned her. Hanna's heart skipped a beat.

His mask was leather, covering all but his mouth and chin. Dark eyes pierced into her from its depths. "Tom Collins." He said to her, his voice deep and emotionless.

"No names." Hanna stammered, nervousness finally welling up inside her. "The rules..." He grabbed her wrist hard and pulled it over the bar. "A Tom Collins." His tone sounded annoyed, but there was underlying amusement. "You're buying me a drink." The bartender scanned her wristband.

They stood motionless, their eyes locked. He didn't look, when the bartender returned with his drink. "25 percent." He said, as he tapped the tip on the scanner. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke again. "Turn around." He raised his glass and took a sip. She turned, letting him examine her. A nervous excitement filled her to the point of bursting. Her limbs had turned to rubber. Within, she felt a buzzing, so intense that she thought she would vibrate through the floor.

His hand brushed lightly along the lace on her cheeks, up her back, and rested on her shoulder. "Should I keep you?" His whisper was almost a growl. His hot breath on her ear sent a shiver down her spine. Between her legs, an inferno raged.

In front of her, a woman tugged on a leash. The man it was attached to crawled behind her, begging to serve her every whim.

Hanna's voice was barely audible. "If that is your desire, sir." He turned her around and she lost herself in that dark, playful gaze. He pointed to the floor, and she knelt, without hesitation. He cupped the bulge in his slacks. "Do you want this?" He asked." Her mouth began to water. "Yes, Sir." The quiver in her voice was impossible to hide. She began to shake with anticipation. He was teasing her. She knew it. The rules were very clear about permittable sexual contact, and they both knew how far he could push.

He couldn't penetrate her in any way. He couldn't remove what little clothing she was wearing. He could command her. He could tease her. He could make her beg and humiliate her. He could spank her, as long as it wasn't hard enough to make her fair cheeks red. At least... not here.

"Beg me for my cock." His tone was flat, but firm. She began to beg, professing obedience, submission, and skill. She offered her body, her mind, her very being. She knew he was teasing. Desperate tears stung her eyes, and she had to blink them away. In her mind, he dragged her out by the hair and was already savagely fucking her against a dumpster in the ally.

He stopped her endless profession and dirty fantasy. "These are nice." He said, his finger grazed her earlobe, and the small piece of jewelry. She reached up, feeling the earring and knowing instantly what it was. Sapphires set in silver. She smiled up at him, pride overcoming her. "I bought them in Paris."

He reached into his pocket. "I have something else that you might like to wear." Her eyes fixed on the strip of leather that he dangled in front of her. She was mesmerized by it. She swallowed hard, not able to take her eyes off of the collar. She wanted to feel it wrapped around the tender flesh of her throat, as he buckled it on her. "Yes, please." She moaned. He lightly brushed it across her face, her lips. "Please," She was on all fours, now. "I'll do anything you want, Sir."

Then, it was gone. The collar disappeared back into his pocket. "You have to earn it." He guider her onto a barstool. His fingers pressed against her, rubbing her through the lace of her panties. "Fuck, you're wet." He admired.

Hanna looked around, noticing that a small crowd had formed. "Show all of these nice people how good you can be." He announced, drawing more attention to her. He whispered instructions in her ear. Panic was her response. She looked at him, doubtfully. He just gave her a smile and nod.

Voyeurism wasn't an interest that she wanted to explore, and somehow, he knew that. He also knew that she wouldn't say no. He couldn't undress her or penetrate her. He could, however, make her do it to herself.

Slowly, Hanna slid her panties down, showing her very wet pussy to the crowd. She reached between her legs and began to rub her clit in slow circles. Cheers and comments filled her ears, but she did her best to ignore them. Pleasure built up and she began to gasp. She slipped a finger into herself, then a second. She let out short, hard breaths, as her orgasm began to build.

"Do you want to cum?" The only audience member she was concerned with asked. "Yes." She gasped, getting closer and closer to climax. He took her free hand and pulled it out. "Another drink." He called to the bartender.

As he sipped his drink, the world began to fade around Hanna. She was on the edge of climax. Pleasure pulsed up through her body, her muscles began to tense. "I'm...." she whimpered "... Close..." Her breathing was heavy. Inside, her fingers slid across the sensitive nerves in a steady beat that coursed through her. "... cum." She moaned. "Going to....." The world began to spin around her, the inevitable buildup of sexual release was making her lightheaded.

"Stop." His voice cut through her like a dagger. She let out a sob as she pulled her fingers from her quivering pussy. Hanna collapsed onto the bar, her orgasm already well on its way to being lost.

He finished his drink and nodded. "Good." He said. He helped her off of the barstool. Hanna pulled her panties back into place. She could feel the blood rising to her face, as she met the eyes of the people who watched her. She felt a sadness for her lost orgasm. "Go home." He began to lead her back to the changing room. "The next time we meet, you might earn your reward." He patted his pocket. "Oh," He held up a finger, like he had just remembered something. "From now on, you don't get to cum without my permission." Then, he was gone.

Hanna's heart sank. There wouldn't be another event for two whole months! She didn't know yet, that she wouldn't have two months. Her small display of vanity had already sealed her fate.

*

The rest of the workday was agony. That was the point, though. Wasn't it? It had been ten days since she saw him last. It had been over three weeks since her night at Maskurade.

She pulled her Mercades out of the parking garage and began to follow the instructions from her GPS.

*

It had been a late night for her. The rest of the office had cleared out hours before. She had stepped out of her private bathroom to find him standing in her office. "What are you doing here?" She snarled at him, annoyed that he had entered her space without knocking.

She was expecting fear, or at least respect. He responded with a cocky smile and a shrug. She could feel the fury building up inside. "Whatever I want, bitch." He said, in a voice that was cool... almost bored. She hurried over to her desk and picked up the phone. She pressed a button and shot him a deadly glare.

He was on top of her in two steps, his hand finding her throat. He didn't squeeze, but it was enough to pin her to the edge of the desk. His hand moved from her throat, fingers tracing her jawline to her ear. "Paris, huh?" his dark eyes fixed in hers. Her heart froze. She didn't have to reach up. She knew what earrings she was wearing. There was only one way that he could have known where they came from.

"Security." The voice in the receiver greeted her. She was frozen. "Miss Ellis?" The guard asked, growing a little concerned. She managed to gain enough of her wits. "Uh... hi... um," she had to think fast "Did anyone turn in a set of keys?" She was making up anything she could. "An employee was looking for them." Of course, they hadn't. She thanked them and hung up the phone.

He walked around her desk and sat in her chair, leaning back with the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever seen. He was sitting in HER CHAIR! Rage and frustration filled her. "What do you want?" Hanna asked through clenched teeth. She was so angry; she wanted to claw out his eyes. This was her office, her place, he was taking it from her.

He pointed to the decanter on the shelf. "You can start with a drink." He was almost laughing. She clenched her fists at her sides and stomped to the liquor. "Hold on." He raised his voice, making her jump. "Come here." She stepped over to him and he grabbed her, pulling her close. "First, lose the fucking attitude." He growled at her. "Second, I gave you a command. What do you say?"

Just like that, she was defeated. Moisture welled in her eyes and between her legs. "Yes, Sir." Her voice cracked. He was taking all of her control. He knew that she felt powerful here and he was taking it from her. Worse, he knew that she would let him. He knew that she wanted it.

She brought him a glass. The whiskey in it was old and expensive, the scent began to fill the room. He took a sip and nodded. "Now," he pulled out the collar and her eyes went to it, immediately. She felt a deep longing, as he placed it on her desk. He pointed to the floor, and she knelt before him. He stroked her hair and face. "Do you want that?" He asked. "Yes, Sir." She moaned. He slipped his thumb into her mouth. "You're going to be a good girl, right?"

She gently gave his thumb a suck. "Mmm-hmm" she moaned around it. He unfastened his pants and drew down the zipper. His manhood was throbbing as he pulled it out, growing erect in his hand. It pulsed, a thick, meaty, nine inches of flesh.

"This cock isn't going to suck itself." He pulled his thumb from her mouth and took the back of her head, guiding her.

She opened her mouth. She let her tongue glide around the warm head, cleaning the small bead of precum that had pooled on the tip. The antiseptic, cloying, non-flavor of semen filled her senses. Hanna wrapped her lips around the blessed cock in front of her and began to suck. She took him slowly, taking him as deep as she could go. She forced herself a little deeper and fought her gag reflex.

"No, no." He whispered. "Don't choke yourself. That comes later." His voice was tender. He took her head in both hands, pulling her up to a comfortable place.

Hanna bobbed, sliding him in and out of her mouth. She kept a slow, steady rhythm. He let her hair down and began to run his fingers through the soft, golden locks. All the while, his tone was gentle, soothing. He praised her, guided her, called her things like princess and good girl. He would pause and she would hear the ice rattle in the glass. Then, he would resume speaking.

It took a while. Hanna's jaw was getting sore, and the ache between her legs was maddening. She was consumed by the taste of his musk. Her mouth had taken on the thick sensation of being coated in precum. She kept going, sucking the cock of this man who had taken control of her. If it was possible to make love with your mouth, that's what Hanna was doing.

"I'm going to cum on your face." He stated, suddenly. She had expected that her would finish in her mouth, but she didn't have time to even be surprised. He pulled her off of himself, her mouth making a pop. His meaty girth slapped against her face, and she had just enough time to close her eyes.

His first spasm shot hot semen across her forehead, the second sprayed the bridge of her nose, the rest was deposited around her lips and chin. She didn't have to worry about getting any in her eyes, he made sure to avoid them.

His cum was all over face, there was a lot of it. Although, hot to the point of almost scalding when erupted onto her, it began to cool rapidly. A large, wet glob ran down her chin. "Shit." He laughed. His hands were fast, practiced. He reached down and began unbuttoning her blouse. He managed to strip her down, before his gift was able to stain her expensive outfit.

She now stood before him in just her underwear, her face drenched in semen. "Pull your hair back." He said, making a twirling motion with his hand. Hanna moved her hair and turned, letting him admire her. "Good." his voice was low and happy.

She wanted more. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to relieve the need between her legs. She wanted to be filled, stuffed, fucked.

He stepped behind her, pressing his body to hers. "I own you." He whispered into her ear. "Yes, S... uhhgh!"

Her words caught in her throat. She was filled with pure ecstasy, as she felt the collar slip around her throat. He pulled it tight, not to the point of strangling her, but to cause discomfort. A tear of joy ran down her cheek, mixing with his cum.

He led her to the center of the office, facing the door. Hanna knelt, when he pointed to the floor. "Hold out your hand." She reached out and he placed the crystal glass, now free of whiskey in her palm. "Open your mouth." She opened. He plucked a cube of ice from the glass and popped it into her mouth. "Don't move, until that has completely melted." He walked to the door. "Oh, and don't you dare cum."

Then he was gone. Hanna obeyed, staying stone still, mostly naked, face covered in semen, holding out a glass, kneeling in the middle of her office, until the ice in her mouth had melted away.

*

Hanna turned into a suburb, and grimaced. The houses were nice, with well-kept lawns, that screamed middle class. It was a far cry from the concrete, steel, and glass of her luxury condo.

She parked in the driveway of a simple ranch house and shut off the engine. The collar went on as soon as she got into the parking garage. Now, she stripped down to her underwear.

Her bare feet slapped on the concrete, as she scurried up to the porch. The autumn air was cool, covering her in goose flesh. It was dark enough, but the possibility of curious eyes was still a concern. Hanna rang the doorbell, illuminated by the porch light.

She waited and waited. He's enjoying this. She thought, he's making me wait. She reached up a second time. Just as her finger touched the doorbell, the front door swung open.

He looked at her, an amused smile on his lips. She stood motionless, under his dark gaze, until he reached out. He took her collar and led her into the house.

Once inside, he pointed to the dining room table, as he closed the door. Hanna only got four steps, before his strong hand seized her by the throat. Unlike in her office, this time, he did squeeze. He forced her back to the door. He pointed at the floor, then at the table. "Crawl." He commanded.

Hanna got down on all fours. She couldn't help but notice how turned on she already was. She crawled to the table and waited. He guided her back to her feet. "Assume the position."

The table was marked with two x's of electrical tape. Hanna leaned over, placing a hand on each. She was bent over, vulnerable, ready for whatever violation he wished to inflict upon her.

"You're late." He said, as he drew her underwear down her legs. She wasn't. She got out of the car at 6:54. There was a clock right in front of her that read 6:59. Hanna didn't dare argue. "Yes, Sir." She agreed.

He shoved two fingers into her greedy slit, and she let out a deep sigh. He took a few minutes, fingering her, before transferring from her pussy to her mouth. She sucked his fingers, hungrily. She tasted the sweet nectar of her own lust, nectar her body made to serve him. He pulled his fingers from her mouth, and she whimpered, licking her lips.

He stepped down the hall for a moment and returned. He set a riding crop on the table next to her. She looked at the crop with a mix of fear and desire. His hand ran up the bare flesh of her back, unfastening her bra. The last piece of clothing fell away, letting her perky breasts spill out. She was pressed down, the table cool against her bare skin.

He gave her ass a light slap with the riding crop, and she let out a surprised cry. It didn't hurt; it was just a tease. "You need to be punished." His voice had gone cool and flat.

"Yes, Sir." Hanna agreed, her own voice dripping with sexual need. "Please punish me, Sir." She purred. She gave her ass a little wiggle, to accentuate her willingness.

His strong hand plunged into her hair. He clenched his fist, and her head was wrenched back. She could feel the weight of his body, as he leaned over her.

"This is my house. It's under my rule." Travis Huer growled into Hanna's ear.

"Yes!" Hanna agreed.

She was going to be punished.