No Trespassing Ch. 08

Author Comments

I want to thank everyone who has read this series and/or taken the time to leave a comment. I appreciate the words of encouragement and the feedback on the details.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

The series starts as lesbian nonconsent/reluctance. A lesbian goes off the grid for vacation. She seeks shelter from a storm at what is assumed to be a seldomly used cabin but is caught when the owner shows up unexpectedly. The years of suppressing her submissive tendencies bubble to the surface as she is forced to accept punishment for trespassing and settling the tab for staying in the cabin.

If this is offensive to you, please find another story. If you read on, please enjoy and comments are always welcome.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Will a bad idea have a Silver Lining?

The longer the woman watch me, the harder it became to breath. I held the door handle in a death grip. Every breath hurt as panic clawed up my throat.

How did she find me? Was she going to blackmail me? Force me to be her full-time slave? It would be too obvious to haul me out of my own office by my hair. Maybe she wanted money after all. I mentally slammed the door on the questions ricocheting around my mind.

The blood pounding in my ears made it almost impossible to make out her reply.

"I am here to meet Mr. Simon."

Breath, I just needed to focus on inhaling, and exhaling. Count to four.

If extortion was her game, she wouldn't be in my office. It was illogical to challenge someone on their own territory, much less in a public place. I bit the inside of my lip, summoning the best poker face I had. If it wasn't to blackmail me for sex, then maybe she'd come for the money.

But if that was the case, why the whole charade of emails? Especially, as I had already agreed to meet her again.

Her stride was confident as she walked back to the table. Her arms relaxed by her sides. She didn't even spare me a glance out of the corner of her eye. When she turned to face me, you would have thought we were two strangers with no past of mistress and slut.

This was my firm. She was here to hire us for something.

She glanced at a gold watch on her right wrist. Not a modern day trackable one, but an old fashion gold linked watch, bigger than a woman's watch. Dark blue face with gold numerals. Sentimental value.

"I don't have a lot of extra time today." The normal warmth of her voice was absent. Her tone flat and factual laced with edges of ice queen.

I exhaled quietly, glancing down the hallway towards the breakroom. There were no signs of Agnes or Jamie. I pushed the door closed behind me, sealing us off from the outer office.

The emerald eyes I found so alluring in the cabin were hard. There was no hint of mischief or amusement. She placed her hands flat on the black leather briefcase.

The oxygen in the room slowly returned. I tossed my notebook on the table and slid my left hand in my pocket, pressing my fingernails into my palm.

I'd been dreaming too much of this mysterious woman. The promise of a meeting in a few weeks kept me in a perpetual state of horniness and now here she was, in my reality. My world blurred between the strange events in the cabin and my job as a private investigator. A calm steady rhythm, one in which I was in complete control of was now on a collision course with events I would prefer to remain hidden.

"Mr. Simon is delayed. How may I help you?" I was Impressed my voice was steady and confident.

After years of investigations, I'd learn to think on my feet. Especially, when I was caught off guard. In these occasions, you put the challenger on the spot. Turn the tables.

"How long?"

"I can't say. But I assure you, I'm quite capable of - "

She waved a hand. "I'm sure you are, but I've a tight schedule today. My appointment is with Mr. Simon, and I prefer to speak with him. Not his assistant."

The muscle in my jaw throbbed as I clenched my teeth. When men assumed a woman wasn't capable of handling investigations it was frustrating yet amusing when I put them in their place. But when it came from a woman, it never failed to amaze me at the double standard.

How dare she? Coming from a lawyer at a high-end firm, no less, sent me over the top. How dare she assume that I was not as qualified as my brother.

A knock on the door interrupted my reply.

"Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Simon," Agnes said entering the room and placed a cup on the table. "Here's your tea, Ms. Rossi."

"Thank you." Ms. Rossi smiled at Agnes before she disappeared quickly as she arrived.

Her eyes glanced toward my left as she bit her lip. "You didn't tell me you were married."

"Would it have mattered?" I balled my hand hiding in my pocket.

"Yes," she replied too quickly.

"Really?"

"Most women offer that as a defense."

The admission left me speechless. So, there were other women she captured and forced to make payment through being her slut. I pushed away the disappointment that I was the only one.

We stared at each other for a long moment.

Before I could ask what she did with the women who cried husband, the door opened again.

"So sorry, Ms. Rossi," Jamie said.

His dark blue suit jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a light blue collared shirt and maroon tie. He shook her hand.

For the first time since entering the room, I felt like I could breathe again. Jamie to the rescue, saving his big sister even though he'd not realized he was saving me.

"So, catch me up." He grinned at me, seemingly not noticing the tension in the room.

"Nothing to catch up. Ms. Rossi didn't submit an intake form and refused to talk to me since her appointment was with you."

"It's nothing personal." She took a step back from my brother. Her eyes dropped briefly towards the ring on his left hand. "This is just a sensitive matter. The fewer people involved the better."

I picked up my notebook and turned to leave, careful to keep my left hand in my pocket. Let her wonder for a few weeks.

"It's just that Mr. Simon was highly recommended as the best computer forensic investigator who can work quickly and discreetly."

Turn the handle, all I had to do was open the door and run from the room. Don't engage, just pretend she didn't say anything. I was grateful she couldn't see my reaction. Not even my best poker face would have concealed the shock of her statement.

"Come again?" Jamie asked. I'd never wanted to kick him so much as I did now.

Before she could provide more details, I turned back. "Who's the referral?"

She glanced at me briefly, before focusing on Jamie. "It's confidential. But you were highly recommended."

"The firm was recommended or Mr. Simon specifically?" I asked.

"Both." She finally looked at me. "Why?"

"Who's the referral?"

"As I said that's confidential."

I shook my head then looked at Jamie. His eyebrows drew together silently asking what was wrong with me.

Landing a case from Ms. Rossi's firm was huge. It would have the potential to lead to more. We both knew how to play the game, but something felt off if the referral recommended Jamie over me. If it was a former client, they would not have recommended my brother for an area I excelled at.

"The referral is immaterial. I could have just as easily lied and said I found Charlie Simon via a google search." She opened the case and pulled out a manilla file.

Both of us stared at her. I felt frozen to the spot. She assumed Charlie was a man.

Jamie cleared his throat. "I think there's been some mistake."

"Are you not Charlie Simon?" The corner of her lips turned down as she looked from Jamie to me and back again.

"I am not," Jamie answered.

"I see." She dropped the file back into the case but left it open. "Then may I speak with him?"

"You're a lawyer from Rossi and Mancini and yet you don't know who you're appointment is with?" I asked. "Don't most lawyers do some basic due diligence?"

The jaw muscle on the left side pulsed. "I really don't have time for twenty questions. This is a delicate case which I need to be handled discreetly."

"The partners at this firm don't work in a vacuum, Ms. Rossi." Jamie took a step towards me as if sensing I may need protection. "If we accept a case in this office, the partners, at a minimum, are involved."

"I'm sure more eyes works for your other cases, but I really need information contained to a bare minimum. I would prefer only the one working the case know the details."

"We come highly recommend and yet you don't even know who you are meeting with," I said.

The emerald eyes locked onto me. "Simon Investigations is a small, but reputable firm known for being the best in mergers and acquisitions and digital forensics among other niche markets. As this is a highly sensitive matter in which I don't want the subjects being investigated to find out, a very limited search was conducted beyond what was on the public website. Of which, I might add, there is no mention of staff or photos of staff on the site."

"Pictures of us would be counterproductive to surveillance." I rebutted.

"Great. Now that we all agree, I have no knowledge of what Charlie looks like, and you have confirmed you're not him," she nodded to Jamie, "may I know when I can meet with him?"

In all my years of conducting interviews and talking with clients, none were as strange as this one. But as I looked at Jamie, she did have a point. We decided years ago that no photos of us or the staff would be posted. Not only would it hinder surveillance opportunities, but more importantly, it provided cover for me.

"You can't." I turned and retreated to my office. I had no logical reason to say no. Just instinct or maybe it was the fact that the woman in my office wanting to hire me for an actual job, was also the one I was giving permission to dominate me in a few weeks to pay off a fictious debt.

I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes wondering if this was a dream or nightmare. I was going to wake up any minute and realize my mistress was not in my office trying to hire me.

By the time someone knocked on the door a short while later, my hands had stopped shaking. The words on the monitor lacked meaning as my mind kept drifting to Ms. Rossi and her case.

Jamie stuck his head in. "You okay?" He closed the door before taking a seat in front of the desk.

"Other than someone assuming a man is better at doing my job than me? Yes." I glanced at the manilla folder in his hands. "No offense."

The corner of Jamie's lips quirked up. "None taken. Amazing how women don't realize they play into the stereotypes."

I leaned back. If he didn't want to mention why he carried the same looking folder as Ms. Rossi had, far be it from me to ask.

"So, um," he crossed and recrossed his legs. "After you left - "

"Did you tell her I was Charlie?"

He shook his head. "No, but I did convince her to provide some details."

"Some?"

"She didn't want to give any more than was necessary in order to secure a meeting with Charlie."

I sucked in my lower lip, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

"Highly sensitive to the subjects being in close proximity to the firm. They would pick up on activity not in the norm. The subjects are computer savvy and will most likely spot a trace or unauthorized inquiries. Discretion is a must. And you know, going above and beyond may lead to more work in the future."

"Seems a bit cloak and dagger to me." I paced back over to the window.

The sun had managed to get through the scattered clouds, reflecting against the glass. The metal ledge was warm when I braced my hands on it.

As if he could read my mind, he said, "This is not the same thing, Charlie. Hell, you weren't even out of college yet. Besides," I could hear his smile, "this might get you through the mid-life doldrums."

I ignored the intentional jab over my recent mood swings. This whole situation had shade of the past written all over it, well, minus the professional part. The mystery was what drew me in, my naivete is what got me lost. But I wasn't naïve anymore and I saw red flags for the warnings they were.

"It may seem odd on the surface, but you know lawyers. Such a fine line sometimes on what they can and can't do. This just happens to be bigger than our other lawyers. I think it's worth a conversation."

"Really?" I turned, leaning back against the window and crossing my arms over my chest. "What makes you think this is worth more time than we've already spent?"

He placed the folder on the desk before walking over to me. "The retainer alone is worth another meeting. And aside from that, something tells me, this is the challenge you've been waiting for. A puzzle needing delicate hands. It's just business. Nothing personal."

I choked on a laugh as he pulled me into a hug. If he only knew just how personal this was.

*****

The manilla folder Jamie placed on my desk a couple days before, now lay on the car seat next to me as I drove downtown. I was proud that I ignored it for as long as I did. But annoyingly, Jamie was right. The note with the retainer fee was more that we'd ever made on one case. Hell, it was almost five case fees combined.

I knew the amount was over the top. It was meant to get my attention. Or whatever it was that needed ferreting out. Something extremely sensitive or maybe dangerous or both.

The dangerous part didn't seem right though. Based on the research about Rossi and Mancini, the firm portfolio was pretty straight forward. The standard fare of divorces and accidents, a division for torts. A national firm representing several high-end clients from biotech to cutting edge software, and media outlets. Something felt familiar about them, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

I pulled into the parking garage of an average city building. Several offices occupied the building and only the top two floors were occupied by Rossi and Mancini. The rest was taken up by an architectural firm, an accounting office, and a fintech company. It could easily be missed in the crowd.

Unusual for a high price law office. That impression evaporated the moment I stepped off the elevator on the tenth floor. Thick wall to wall blue carpet absorbed the office sounds. The small lobby was silent. Not even a tv in the corner to help visitors pass the time.

The upright hardwood chairs looked uncomfortable and the couple of tables with a small lamp were dust and magazine free. Guess their clientele didn't wait in the lobby for long.

The fortress gate in disguise as a front desk was all sleek and polished cherry wood. The gate keeper sat regally behind the desk. Her black hair swept back in a tight chignon. The off-white dress suit was tailored to fit her perfectly.

"I'm have an appointment with Ms. Rossi," I said, fighting the feeling of addressing Oz.

Without acknowledging me, she glanced at an oversized monitor. "Name."

Apparently, hospitality was not required for the gate keeper position. "Charlie Simon."

The perfectly sculpted black eyebrows jump for a nano second. It was the only sign she was surprised. No doubt she was expecting a man. And deep down, I was happy to know I would be able to catch Ms. Rossi off guard as well.

She picked up a black handset and waited a second. "You're ten o'clock is here, Ms. Rossi."

"Follow me." She stood to her giant height, tugging on the end of her coat before leading me down a long plush hallway lined with offices on either side. No cubes for this place. Floor to ceiling glass windows with full length blinds. Solid wood doors. The whole floor was silent, and I wondered at the expense of sound proofing.

As the gate keeper stopped at an open door, I slid my left hand in my pocket. "Thank you," I said to her retreating back.

Of course she'd have a corner office. Why would I expect anything less?

I heard the sigh from across the room before I stepped over the threshold.

Let the charade begin.

"Is this like the Angles? Never get to meet the man in person. Just his associates."

I turned to close the door, hiding my smile and tamping down my attraction. She had no right to look super seductive in business attire. By the time I turned around, the smile was gone. Professional Charlie was on the job.

The office was overly large with a couch on the left side and a coffee table centered in front of it. Two large black guest chairs faced her desk and to my right was a small round table with two grey cloth chairs on either side overlooking the city skyline. I wondered where she hid the scotch.

The bookcases behind her held only books and magazines. No personal touches, photos or tiny knickknacks. This was a place for business and only business.

"It never ceases to amaze me how women never think other women are capable of performing the same jobs as men." I stopped in front of her desk between the two chairs.

"On the contrary, I think very highly of most women. As I'm sure you've picked up on by now, I'm not prone to assumptions without some supporting facts. As for Charlie, if he didn't want more details, he could have just phoned it in. If he isn't interested, he didn't need to send one of his partners." She clasped her hands together on the desk, raising one thin blonde eyebrow.

How could she look more sexier with one facial movement? My heart raced and I wondered how she'd respond if I leaned over the desk and kissed her.

"Or are you here to cancel our agreement?"

I dropped the folder onto the desk. "There really isn't anything you've provided, except for a sticky note with a lot of zeros on it and vague words of strictly confidential due to personnel concerns. Hard to determine if you need a PI at all."

"So, you are assuming I'm not educated enough to know what type of investigator I need?"

"I didn't say that. Most people -"

"Of which I am not." Her lips thinned and her eyes darkened.

" -- have no clue what fields make up the private investigation world." I finished as if she hadn't interrupted me.

"Why is this such a problem Ms. Simon? It's a legitimate request to talk directly to the best person for the job. One who has come highly recommended and to have them decide if this is a case worth pursuing."

"Do you often meet with clients without basic information? Without your assistant vetting them?"

The muscle in her jaw flexed. She stood, placing her fingertips on the desktop. Her silk hunter green shirt hugged in all the right places.

I forced myself to hold her gaze and not look at her very kissable lips. This was no time for distractions. This was business and I needed to stay grounded, not floating away on fantasies.

"You haven't answered my question. Is this just an excuse to cancel our original agreement?"

It never occurred to me to cancel our agreement. I pushed away the unexpected sadness at her thought of why I was here.

"No."

"Then is there something wrong with him? If he can't take on another case, he can just say so. Or is it this company isn't what it appears to be? Maybe the game of charades is how you waste your time, but I don't appreciate wasting mine."

"With all the inhouse PI's you have, why come to us at all?"

"I cannot provide more details without an NDA. And the NDA will only be provided to the person performing the job."

"I saw no NDA in the file."

"Why go to the lengths to draw one up if this goes no further?"

I let the question hang in the air. "So, you're investigating someone or ones within the firm. Otherwise, you would use your internal team. You have a mole of some sort with finances or other sensitive data, otherwise you wouldn't need a digital investigator. Although there may be more to it and without knowing who is or is not involved with something not quite right you can't talk to anyone inside the walls."

"Why are you here Ms. Simon? Blackmail? You've no proof that anything unseemly took place. The beauty of emails, thanks for setting that up so beautifully, is hiding the owner. And as we both know, you'd need a court order to get the IP address which only allows you to trace it back to one location. Then you'd need proof of who was at the keyboard and wrote up the agreement. Assuming you could prove all that, the consent was mutual. So, you're wasting your time if you think you can turn the tables."

The small window to surprise her into revealing more than normal had closed. She'd steeled herself against anything I might throw at her, deflecting to buy time. Whether my educated guess was in the ballpark or not was now unknown.

One fact jumped out at me. She still had no idea who I was or who she was meeting the other day. The faint darkness under her eyes indicated restless sleep on top of defending something I'd not spoken to. The fact the referral failed to mention that Charlie was a woman niggled at me.

With a deep inhale she walked over to look out the window. "It is quite possible being recommended to your firm was a mistake and what I require is beyond his expertise." She turned to look back at me. "I can find another PI."

"And yet, almost two days later, you haven't. Is it because of your referral or me specifically?"

"I don't play games at my office, Ms. Simon. I leave it at my personal property. However, if my referral was wrong about being the best in the area then I'll move on."

"Oh, your referral, whomever they are, is quite accurate. Charlie is the best in the field. But I'm not big on coincidences and you being in my office is one hell of a coincidence, don't you think? I mean, really, what are the odds? Conveniently you were referred to us and not the Shell Group. Whom also specialize in this niche."

Her pursed lips told me she'd not looked at other firms since she appeared in my office. I couldn't figure out if it was because she wanted to know more about me or if she was staying the course based on the recommendation.

Her calmness was driving me crazy. I fought the urge to yell at her to provide any information without telling my secret first.

"Surely it would be quicker to meet with him and put this to bed," she said.

"I don't know. We don't have enough information."

"Do you do everything electronically?"

"Depends on the job."

"Can this case take priority above others?"

"Maybe."

"As you pointed out, there are a lot of zeros."

"Bribing your way in?"

"How dare you." She stepped into my space.

Finally, something more than calm. Feigning equanimity, I leaned a hip against her desk, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're not asking the right question."

"And what is the right question?"

"You've yet to ask me my name."

There was a long pause as she studied me. Her eyes narrowed as if it finally dawned on her that Charlie might be a woman.

"What is your first name?"

"Charolotte."

"Charlie?" The muscle in her jaw flexed.

I shrugged. "To some. Agnes prefers not to call me by my nickname. Something about boys' names for girls. Though she doesn't take issue with Jamie's name."

A blush crossed her cheeks. I got the feeling she was not often caught off guard.

"This could have been resolved two days ago."

"Could have," I replied at the realization she was just as flummoxed as I was.

"Why?" Her hand rolled in the air.

"Seriously? You show up in my office after that and want me to believe you're not stalking me. That this, is all just a coincidence? Act like none of it happened?"

She cleared her throat. "Fair." She took a half step back. "I was shocked when you walked in the room. But trust me, I had no idea you worked at the office nor that you are Charlie."

"Strange your referral didn't mention it."

"Mmmm." She shrugged walking back behind her desk. "Guess it never came up."

"And you assumed something without facts."

One eyebrow raised as she stared me down. "And I assumed. Incorrectly."

I smiled at her admission. "So, what are the details?" I asked, sitting in one of the guest chairs as if I had all the time in world.

She held up a finger, turning to unlock a drawer. She held out a folder. This firm seemed to have an endless supply of non-descript manilla folders.

Inside was a detailed NDA. It covered the basics down to who owned the information I found. Nothing collected would be stored or maintained by me or my firm electronically. Nothing obtained during the search would be handed to anyone else at the law firm. All copies would be handed to one Victoria Rossi and no one else. Period. The NDA was effective for a minimum of fifteen years.

"This says 'handed to anyone'. You don't want status reports?"

"Not electronically. No communication which is not face to face. Nothing which can be electronically traced, downloaded, saved or transmitted. All reports are to be delivered only to me."

"Seems a bit over the top."

"Maybe. But I don't trust anyone that isn't currently in this office."

My heart fluttered. She trusted me. A woman she didn't know from Eve and hadn't yet hired. The validation that the connection in the cabin was mutual had me jumping for joy inside.

"I see."

The Shell Group could do this, not as well as I could, but they could. I turned a deaf ear to the voice pointing out I should not work for a woman who held me captive, who turned me into a slut for her amusement. I was playing with fire.

There was something more, something fluttering in the gray just out of my reach. The truth was, I didn't want to wait weeks to see her. I wanted to see what she was like in the real world. Learn about her before our very private, very intimate meeting she'd carefully orchestrated.

"You will need to sign a contract with us, outlining the scope of work, payment terms, responsibilities before we proceed."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"There are other, rules, which the contract won't outline, that you'll need to agree to."

Victoria sat back watching me as if trying to figure out where I was going before I said anything.

"Our personal connection outside of this case will not be addressed or allude to in public, nor in my office or yours. This is a strictly professional relationship between client and investigator. You will not control me in any way or prohibit me from completing the job as outline by the contract."

The corners of her mouth twitch up in the first sign of amusement. "Anything NSFW is off limits."

I bowed my head slightly in acknowledgement.

"That is acceptable."

The agreement felt too easy. I wondered if there was a loophole I missed.

I stood. "I'll have the agreement sent over."

"Not electronically."

I raised my eyebrows. Whomever she was investigating certainly made her paranoid.

"I'll come to you and sign the contract. Along with the retainer."

We stared at each other for a long moment. Nothing about this woman was simple. I was more intrigued than before. I pulled a pen from inside my jacket to sign the NDA.

"You're not married."

I looked up, frowning at the odd statement. Her eyes drifted up from where they studied my left hand as I signed the document.

"Women always wear a ring. Men seem to vary. He was wearing a ring, but you're not. Nor a tan line showing you've worn one recently."

I chuckled. She'd make a good investigator. As I signed the agreement, I replied, "Marrying your sibling is generally frowned upon in this country."

*****

As I did most mornings over the last two and a half weeks, I turned on the burner phone she'd given me when she dropped off the check and signed the contract. There was no electronic communication to occur between us except via the phone she provided with only one number programed. All other communications would be face to face like any other client.

It seemed over the top, but whatever I was looking for made her anxious. I wondered if this had something to do with the reason, she cut our time together short. The jury was still out on whether the paranoia was justified or not. I was hoping for not. The last thing I needed was to be caught in the middle of something dangerous, but more importantly, I didn't want her on the receiving end of danger either.

The coffee had just finished brewing as I booted my dark laptop to work a little on the case that shall not be named. As I did every time I started this research, I ignored the internal debate. Was this a good idea to work for a woman I was scheduled to meet in a few weeks to pay off a different kind of debt in a different kind of way?

Before starting on the work, I checked my slut email account to see if there was any alterations of the terms or dates. It was amazing how a simple thing like an invoice could humiliate me to the point I was fingering myself.

I didn't want the attraction to carry over to my work. It had no place in the office. I couldn't run the risk of exposure. Best case I would be embarrassed to have people find out I was a slut. Worse case, it may cost me my business and respectability in the community. The door to playing 24/7 or even part-time anywhere near where I worked would always be off limits. It had to be, but it didn't stop me from checking the email or looking at the phone in the privacy of my own home.

There didn't seem to be one night I wasn't thrusting a vibrator into my soaking pussy just to take the edge off. Victoria, on the other hand, never crossed any lines on the couple of occasions we met. She gave no sign she was interested in me beyond the case. Not even so much as a lingering gaze on my lips or chest. No sly innuendo at the impending rendezvous.

She was respecting my rules while I grew hornier by the day. Part of me admired her restraint, while another part of me wanted her to struggle with anticipation.

Overall, it was slow going since I couldn't use the normal tracers. I took extra precautions so as to not trigger any alerts. Victoria wanted faster results, but without running like a bull in a China shop, nothing good was going to come from recklessly autopsying the accounts. The best I could offer so far was that I had worked out the normal pattern of business. Nothing seemed off kilter, yet.

After another hour of scanning data, I was not looking forward to our meeting tomorrow. Maybe there just wasn't anything, I thought as I powered down the laptop and headed to the office.

Maybe her suspicions were just wrong. Somehow, that didn't feel right either. I suspected her intuition was usually spot on. I made a mental note to ask her tomorrow when I provided yet another lack luster status update.

I had spent the afternoon wrapping up the last report on the Miller merger. Jamie would be happy to close out one project. Especially, if it provided more time to work on Victoria's case.

He was delighted I landed the account, but like me, expressed concern over the secrecy of the NDA. There wasn't much we didn't share. With the retainer and the potential for more work, we agreed to make an exception for this one assignment only. This case was never discussed in our regular staff meetings and in private I provided vague updates, so he had some concept of why I was working outside the office. We even managed to keep Agnes in the dark.

After a quick review of the agenda for the week, I decided to call it a day. I poked my head into Jamie's office.

"Hey stranger," he smiled.

"Hi," I replied, plopping into a chair resisting the urge to prop my feet up on his desk.

"You look beat." He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the desk.

"Finished the Miller review."

"Awesome."

She smiled. "I knew you'd like that."

"Every closed case is a good one. Have a kid to put through college you know?"

"Oh, so Sam is interested in college now?"

Jamie laughed pushing back against his chair. "Well, I didn't say that. But if he wants to go, I need to be prepared."

"He's a good kid no matter what he decides on. Though I was looking forward to pro bono electrical work when I add my theater room."

"Ha! Like when? Between work or getting lost in the woods you're never home long enough to need a theater room."

"Hey." I pouted. He knew my habits well enough to know that lounging around watching movies was not a norm for me.

"It's true and you know it. Or has someone finally tied you up and made you sit still long enough to know what a movie is?"

If he only knew. "Not yet. I'll get around to it."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll be half dead before that happens." He cleared his throat. "So, um. Any progress..." he trailed off.

I ran a hand through my hair. "Not yet. I'm going to work a bit more when I get back."

"Is it possible nothing is to be found?"

I shrugged. "Possible, but, I dunno. Feels like there's something. Just haven't figured out what to look for yet."

"Well, if there is something to be found, I have faith you'll find it. Want to grab dinner before you dive back in on your extracurricular activities?"

"You buying?" I asked, wishing the extracurricular activities weren't a lonely night at home fantasizing about a certain client and future payment date.

Jamie stood brushing the non-existent wrinkles from his white shirt. "Of course. Harolds?"

"Of course," I mimicked as I forced myself to stand.

He swung and arm over my shoulder and ushered us to happy hour at our favorite hangout a few doors down.

*****

The morning alarm was too loud. Cocktail hour went on too long and I stumbled home too late the night before. I blamed Melody and Sam for the excess cocktails. Mel was out of town on a business trip and Sam was staying at a friend's house. Which all added up to a bored brother too willingly to pay for cocktails. And a sister wanting to be distracted from the loneliness waiting for her at home.

A cold shower was just the thing to wake me up. I yawned as I pulled out the burner phone and computer. The text notification caught my attention. I pulled up the app.

Delayed. Need to change.

The message was sent about an hour before. This was the first time we'd communicated via the phone. Up to this point the next meeting was always confirmed prior to my leaving her office.

I wondered where she was, which prevented us from meeting. Other than a professional search on Victoria, I had not investigated her personal life.

Since I was firm with the rules on her authority over me to be limited to the cabin and according to the agreement, it felt hypocritical to research her background.

To? I typed back.

No dots appeared to indicate I was getting an immediate response.

Instead of shutting down the phone, I placed it beside the computer and started my morning digging.

I was just about to take a break on sleuthing when something caught my eye.

The pattern had changed, and money moved to a new account. I jotted down the details of the unusual activity. Annotating the date before I started backwards to see if there was more tied to this anomaly.

It was late afternoon, and my neck was screaming from being hunched over the computer looking for anomalies. There was no definitive pattern, but just enough that I knew something wasn't adding up.

The burner finally dinged with an incoming message.

Nothing new. Next week. Regular time and space.

My chest tightened. Unexpectedly, I felt rejected. Absurd really and I shouldn't be playing with fire like this.

I bit my lip wondering at the last-minute change, pondering my response. While I didn't have anything major, I wanted to see her.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed, Something new.

Maybe we could meet tomorrow. It was better than waiting another week. Just being in her presence for an hour made me feel lighter, happier.

I held my breath waiting, hoping she would confirm for tomorrow.

Meeting until six. 272 Scots Dr.

I blinked several times. Did she just provide her home address? I did a quick search to confirm the address. It was indeed in a nice new upscale residential area.

Exhaling, I sent back a quick Okay. I glanced at the clock. Allowing for traffic, I had just enough time to jot down my notes for reference and shower.

Being invited to her home office gave me an opportunity to get a glimpse of a more personal side to my mysterious woman. Was she warm and loving or in control both on and off the clock?

Thirty minutes later I stood in my closet wondering what I could wear. Not that there was anything wrong with my tailored black jackets and silk shirts, but they were cut to hide my feminine side. My business attire was designed to command attention from my clients or difficult sources who were not prone to talk to women about their embarrassing secrets.

I wanted something that showed all the right womanly features but not look like I spent the day at home working in shorts and a t-shirt with a mild hangover. I opted for one of my more dressier evening slacks. I twisted from side to side, admiring my firm ass. Nothing wrong with that, I thought, shimming my butt back and forth. It might make her regret placing the next due date so far out.

A variety of shirts from professional silk to cotton casual hung in a neat row. My favorite hunter green silk shirt caught my attention. I could wear it in any business setting or casual outings with jeans.

It clung to me in all the right places, but didn't really highlight what I wanted it to. I ran my hand over the sleeves from black to purple to cream. The maroon, blue, and charcoal blouses with the shinier material would make my breasts seem smaller than they were.

An almost sheer white blouse caught my attention. It bordered between professional and causal, but with the black jacket it could pass more for professional. Without the jacket, it would highlight my breasts and with any luck, make Victoria as aroused as I was.

I didn't want to be blatantly crossing the lines, but the agreement was not in our offices or other public domains. Since we were not meeting in her office, I figured it gave me more leeway in my wardrobe options.

Why should I be the only one with pent up sexual energy?

Masturbating was one thing, but it lacked the intensity of being brought over the edge from a woman. Not just any woman but Victoria. Her warm slim fingers sliding in and out of my pussy, coating my clit and labia with my juices. Or her lips suction to my clit.

A little flirting wouldn't hurt. I smiled at myself in the mirror taking in my appearance. The shirt was a little snug around my chest accentuating my breasts and I probably should wear a camisole. If it was anyone other than my soon to be mistress, I might have chosen not to wear this shirt at all.

I twisted back and forth and decided to remove my bra. My breath caught in my throat as I started to turn away from the mirror. Without the jacket and bra, you could make out my round tits and hard pink nipples.

Maybe I was taking this a bit too far, but I was so fucking horny. Why shouldn't she be just as desperate as I?

I tugged the jacket into place. It fell just as I hoped when it was unbuttoned. The lapels draped just over the sides of my breasts making them stand out proudly. When it was buttoned it covered my chest and passed on the professional side. I unbuttoned the jacket again, to let it hang naturally. It definitely drew attention to my tits.

There would be no doubt that I was still ready, no, more than ready -- longing, to hold up my end of the payment plan. In the privacy of her home, I hoped she would enjoy the view. I touched up my light makeup. With a last smile at my reflection, I nodded and set out for the drive across town.

Traffic was on my side, and I'd arrived a few minutes early. The oversized lots allowed the stone homes to be set back far from the road. I turned into a long-curved drive that ran down the left side of the house. The driveway disappeared around the back to the right. Not quite sure where to park, I stopped near the walkway that lead up to the front door.

As I grabbed my briefcase, I scanned the lot. The landscaping in front hid the homes across the way and on the sides for the most part. Spying on anyone here would be difficult at best unless they were standing on the front lawn.

I wondered if she had cameras to monitor the outside.

I inhaled silently and opened the door per instructions. If her meeting was running long, I didn't want to interrupt her by knocking.

The inside was stunning. Simple with dark wood and elegant throw rugs. The front foyer opened into an oversized living room. The back wall was almost all glass. I could just make out a manicured back yard and deck in the setting sun through the French doors. A fireplace and huge tv took up the right wall. In the center was an earth tone couch flanked by end tables and oversized chairs on either side. The built-in shelves covering the left wall were crammed with books. The room felt homey and distant at the same time. Maybe it was the lack of knickknacks or photos.

"I don't care," an angry voice boomed from a room down the hall to the right. "Look Jerome, just do it. Now."

I fidgeted with the buttons debating about covering up versus teasing. Maybe my attire was not a good idea. I could always button the jacket. Then no harm, no foul, right?

I made my way softly toward Victoria's angry voice.

"It is unacceptable. Figure it out."

I would not like to be on the receiving end of that call.

"No. Two days. That's all."

There was a long silence where I didn't hear any reply. Jerome was either pleading for more time or she'd hung up on whomever Jerome was.

I niggled my lower lip still debating about leaving the jacket unbuttoned. With a deep breath, I tugged my jacket into place to be the most flattering view. Maybe she could use a little distraction from Jerome.

I scuffed my feet on the wood just outside of the office door to alert her to my arrival. Only realizing a second to late that Jerome or someone else might be physically present.

Relief flooded through me as I stood frozen in the door. We were the only two in the room. Her head was tilted to one side as she glanced up.

The office matched what little I'd seen of the house. All polished dark wood. The back wall was floor to ceiling windows. A white gauze curtain pulled back to frame the glass and allow for an unimpeded view of the backyard.

There was long brown reddish couch that ran along the left wall with two tall metal lamps flanking each end. An oversized cherry wood desk took up most the space to the right with two guest chairs facing it.

Victoria looked at the computer then back to me.

"Early."

"Not much," I replied. "I can wait in the living room if you're still on a call."

"Just finished so perfect timing." Her eyes flicked over my chest.

I rolled back my shoulders slightly, allowing the edges of my jacket to pull back slightly and give her full view of my assets as I approached the desk.

"Bad day?" I asked.

"Bad week. Trip. Cancelled flights." Her eyes darkened as she focused on my chest.

"Something wrong?" I asked, setting my briefcase on the floor next to the guest chair.

"Not wrong per se." Her cheeks seemed a bit flushed, but I wasn't sure if it was the call, the bad week or I was finally getting past her work persona.

"This could have waited until tomorrow."

"You found something," she said, standing.

"I did."

She walked around the desk. "Is this what you wear to all your client meetings?"

"Only for my special clients." I smiled. The fact she admitted noticing me made me happy.

I turned to meet her, stepping back against the desk as she stepped into my space.

Her fingers slid up the outside lapels, knuckles grazing the sides of my breasts. I bit back a moan. Damn, I wanted her to kiss me. To feel her skin against mine.

She slid the jacket off my shoulders, sliding it halfway down my arms. Her hands squeezed my tits, and a soft moan escaped my lips.

"You want to change the rules, slut?"

My mouth went dry at the anger that laced her words.

"While this may be my home, it is still where I work. Work is off limits, right? No playing at work, is what I believe you negotiated when you accepted this contract."

She tightened her grip. This was not going according to plan. I couldn't think of a reply as being met with anger was not something I thought would happen.

"You want to play bitch? Then let's play, shall we? Think you can come in here acting like a slut in my office?" She asked as my body reeled from the sensations of being manhandled and berated at the same time.

The cool air against my hot skin barely registered when she unbuttoned my shirt exposing my braless breasts. She pulled my shirt over my jacket, pinning my arms behind me. The stinging in my right breast brought me back to reality. About a half dozen slaps quickly followed, alternating between my tits.

I started to double over to protect my tender flesh, but mistress grabbed my hair and pulled me back upright.

"You think strutting in here with your tits hanging out for the world to see is going to go unnoticed?" Each slap made my sensitive flesh burn hotter and my pussy grew damp in long overdue excitement.

"No mistress. I just -"

"Shut up slut." She gripped my hair tighter, changing sides and started slapping my other tit. "You think you can come in here and just change the rules? The rules you set?"

I gasped in pain trying to free my arms in to protect my breasts, but the jacket and shirt held them back, and the more I struggled, the more the clothing seemed to tighten.

"Hands on the desk. Stick out your tits like the slut you are."

Without thinking, I leaned back awkwardly bracing myself on the desk, thrusting my chest out.

"You want to change the rules, fine. Let's change them." She walked behind me out of view, escalating my nerves as I wondered what she was about to do.

One drawer after another opened. Metal clinked against each other, and I guessed they might be pens. Papers shuffled and what I imagined were binder clips being pushed around. I licked my lips praying she wouldn't use binder clips on my nipples. There was no way I could take that pain.

When she stepped back in front of me, I got lightheaded. Her face was flushed with anger and in her left hand she held a wooden ruler. If fear showed in my eyes, she chose to ignore it.

The first of several blows started raining down on my tits. She alternated between the two on the tops and sides before focusing directly on my nipples.

"Please," I begged. "I'm sorry mistress."

"You want to act like a slut in private, fine."

The burning increase with each hit, fueling my cunt. It ached to be touched, and I could feel it getting wetter with each blow.

I let out a groan which I hoped my mistress took for pain and not excitement.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Enjoying your punishment slut?"

"No mistress," I hissed as the next stroke landed on my nipple.

She pinched my left nipple hard between her thumb and forefinger, lifting it up to hit the underside. Not one patch of flesh was untouched from the kiss of the ruler.

"Lying to me is not a good idea. Especially, in the predicament you just put yourself in."

When the fifth blow hit, I gave in. "I deserved to be punished mistress."

"For what slut?" She asked switching to my right tit.

"For being unprofessional in the workplace," I gasped.

"And?"

"And trying to tease you mistress."

The next blow almost sent me to my knees. I was not saying what she wanted to hear. My mind raced to find the right words and stop the torture.

"And for changing the rules without your permission mistress."

The punishment stopped as quickly as it had started.

I wanted to look down and see the damage, but I didn't want to chance that she would start again. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. I wasn't sure if she was as turned on as I was or if it was from the effort of the punishment.

"Don't move," she ordered as she left the room.

I waited until the echo of her footsteps couldn't be heard. I could make a run for it, but instead I cautiously looked down at my chest. I was amazed they were not black and blue. They were a hot cherry red. I could feel the nerves throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Was her anger at Jerome being taken out on my tits or the bad week in general or was she truly mad that I'd shown up with my chest on display.

When I heard footsteps against the polished wood floor, I tried to regain what little composure I had. Swallowing rapidly, I braced myself on the desk pushing my chest out just as she stepped back into the room.

Victoria wasn't smiling. She stopped in front of me and bent down sucking my right nipple into her mouth. I almost moan in ecstasy at the tenderness of her lips despite the burning sensation.

"Oh fuck," I yelled bending over when she stepped back. A black rubber tipped clip pinched my nipple. Pain shot into my chest making it difficult to get air into my lungs without choking.

Her lips were pursed as she waited for me to stand up. It was the punishment I deserved for coming into her home and show off my slutty tits.

Just as my right nipple started to go numb, my left nipple was squeezed in the tweezer like clamps. Jesus I couldn't believe how much pain could come from something so small. A faint sweat broke out on my forehead. I squeezed my thighs together hoping that a wet spot was not visible against on the black slacks.

She clipped a short leather lead to the middle of the chain which connected the clamps. With a small tug the clamps bit into my nubs and pain rocked into my chest.

"Follow."

With my arms trapped awkwardly behind me, I stumbled as she pulled the chain, leading me out of the office.

"I allowed you one grace to set the rules, but since you broke your own rules, I'll be setting new ones for you."

"I'm sorry mistress. I didn't mean to."

She led me down the hall past the living room into a white kitchen.

"The only one to blame is yourself slut." She turned right. "But don't worry, I'll fix it for you."

The room was a bright open kitchen. A large island separated the stove and overside refrigerator on the right wall and a square dining table to the left. A little breakfast nook was at the far end alongside another bank of windows, implying the whole back side of the house was mostly glass.

With another tug she walked me over to the far-left corner, sliding open a white pocket door. The mud room had a bucket sink and washer dryer on the left side. Two doors stood opposite each other. I figured the solid one with no windows on the left led to the garage, while the one opposite with the glass panes led to the backyard.

Victoria pulled me to the end of the room. Without letting go of the leash, she pulled open white double French doors. The metal ring shelf in the closet was mostly empty save for a brimmed tan hat and gloves.

I focused on her hands as they moved the heavier coats to the far-right bar, leaving several empty hangers to the left. I tried and failed to picture her gardening. Her hands looked smooth, and I knew from experience they were soft. If she did maintain her garden the gloves were excellent at protecting her skin as they were not calloused.

I was yanked from my daydream when she pulled the leash and drew me closer to the shelfing unit. She looped the lead between the rods, dragging me into the closet then clipped the end to a link in the chain, so that my nipples were pulled out and up.

"You want to be a slut so badly then let's give you what you want." She turned to look at me.

The disappointment and anger in her eyes hit me like a fist to the chest. I bit my bottom lip, dropping my eyes to the floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you slut."

This was my fault, and it was only right that she not only called me on it, but punished me for breaking the rules. I swallowed, raising my head.

"From now on, instead of meeting in my office, you'll bring your reports here. You'll pull into the back," she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder to the glass door. "If you remember your initial training, which I suspect is highly unlikely, so I'll remind you. Sluts don't wear clothes in any of my private properties. When you come in this door, you'll hang up your clothes here."

"Yes mistress," I whispered.

She stepped to the side crossing her arms and leaned back against the wall - waiting.

I swallowed repeatedly wondering how stupid I could be to put myself in this predicament. All because I couldn't wait a few more weeks for a cabin visit.

The lead pulled on the clips as I struggled out of my shirt and jacket. The fire in my nipples was almost too much. Would she grant mercy if I asked?

The ached between my legs wanted release, but what little I knew of my mistress, that possibility was not likely. By the time I stood naked before her, my nipples felt like they were going to fall off. If I didn't move, they would almost start to go numb, but it wasn't possible to be that still when removing your clothes, especially my slacks.

"Smells like someone is enjoying their punishment."

My face burned as once again my pussy betrayed my excitement.

"After you come in," she unhooked me and pulled me back into the kitchen. "You'll wait for me here." She tugged me over to the kitchen table. With one hand she pushed me down. "Grab the other side."

I reached across the table. It was just wide enough that I had to stand on my toes to grab the other side. I bit my lip trying to keep my abused tits from pressing against the hard wood.

Mistress kicked open my legs until they were spread as far possible. The cool air tickled my throbbing clit, making it harder to resist asking her to get me off. My upper body was unbalanced and my tits pressed against the unforgiving wooden table.

"Where's your training tool?"

"I didn't bring one mistress."

"That's a problem."

"Yes, mistress."

"And what should I do slut?"

I closed my eyes as I whispered, "Mistress's choice from the room we're in."

The laugh from my mistress made me jump. It was the first sign that she might not be as angry as she appeared.

"Mistress's choice. Love it."

I heard her opening and closing drawers, wondering what she would use to punish me with.

"Like most contracts, one party cannot adjust the terms without verbal or written consent by the other party."

The sound of pots and pans made me shudder. Surely, she wouldn't beat my ass with a pot.

"Penalties for changing terms of an agreement, verbal or otherwise, are applied by the offended party."

More drawers opened and metal utensils were picked up and discarded. I made a mental note to get some impact tools to bring so I wouldn't be punished with kitchen utensils again.

I almost jumped when I felt her behind me.

"In this case, since I was not informed of a change in terms before they were changed, I will be providing the penalty for the oversight."

The sting of a wooden spoon cracked against my left ass check caught me off guard.

"Ugh," I yelped, squeezing my ass cheeks together. "One, mistress," I counted.

"Look at the slut, choosing to obey some of the rules as it sees fit."

The disappointment in my mistress's voice made me feel worse. All I wanted to do was show her how much I wanted her, to give her a preview of what she would get in a few weeks' time. It never crossed my mind that I was breaking the verbal contract to the point of being punished.

Another blow to my ass landed in the same place. "Two, mistress."

Unlike the cabin where she alternated between each cheek rhythmically, this time she kept me guessing. The wooden spoon rained down on one side three or four times. Making me dance as the fire on my ass spread.

As each strike landed harder and harder, I rocked forward against the table. It was impossible to keep my legs open and my chest hovering over the table. Each blow pushed me forward making the clips bite into my sore nipples as they slid back and forth over the table top.

Tears ran down my face and I sniffled trying to hide the fact that I was crying. I held the edge of the table tightly, too scared to find out what the consequences were for letting go.

"Twenty-five, mistress." I was sweating through all the sensations and was starting to seriously ask for mercy when she stopped.

"That should cover part of the penalty for not notifying me of rule changes before they took effect, baby slut."

Baby slut. My heart swelled with pride at the first sign that I was on my way to being forgiven, or at least that's what I'd hoped.

"Thank you, mistress." I wasn't sure why I was thanking her, but somehow it seemed appropriate.

She leaned down running her fingers through my hair. With a chuckle she pulled me up.

The blood rushed into my tits. Her arms wrapped around my waist as my knees started to buckle.

Her breath tickled over my ear. "You may want to hold your thanks. We're far from done."

We stayed like that for a long moment as if she was gauging if I could be trusted to stand on my own. When she was sure I could, she turned me around and led me back to the office.

"Stand, spread em." She dropped the leash circling behind me as I spread my legs.

She pressed her body against my back, wrapping her hands around my waist. Her slacks rubbed against my sore ass as one hand dipped between my legs.

Suddenly, I didn't care how much my ass or tits burned. A groan escaped my lips as I leaned back against her. Her fingers played over my clit making it tingle.

Mistress chuckled again. "Damn you're one wet slut. So glad you're enjoying the amendment."

I thrusted my hips forward when she withdrew her touch from between my legs.

With hooded eyes, I watched her hands slowly move up over my torso. My hips rocked begging for more attention, as she palmed my tits.

A second later, a burning like I'd never ever experienced before burst in my chest. My legs gave out and I landed ungracefully on my knees. The pain only increased when I bent over, so I forced myself to sit back on my heels.

As the fire started to dim, I looked up at my Mistress who was leaning back in her chair watching. I couldn't read her expression and wasn't sure what she was thinking or what was going to happen next.

"When you're ready to go over the report, slut."

I cleared my throat a couple times, inhaling deeply before standing. I withdrew the weekly report from my briefcase, handing it over the desk as the humiliation of being naked washed over me. The heat in my face and chest must have been as red as my swollen tits and burning ass making me feel even more pathetic.

"Sit," she ordered.

The earlier spanking made it difficult for me not to fidget as I eased down on the edge of the chair.

"Before we move forward, we'll start with the following changes to the rules set forth in the verbal agreement of NSFW. From this point forward the agreement excludes this property since it is a private residence. As such, you agree that while you are in this residence, you will never wear clothing, you will refer to me in such a manner as my position of Mistress dictates, and you will follow all the rules at my discretion. Any rules that are broken will be met with appropriate punishments for the infraction. From this moment forward, all weekly reports will be brought here at six p. m. sharp. Tardiness will not be tolerated and shall be met with immediate punishment of one stroke for each minute for the first infraction, the second infraction will be two strokes per minute, the third infraction will be three per minute, and so forth.

This amendment does not include public spaces or professional offices, yours or mine.

Do you understand and agree to the amendment of the rules as I have laid out, baby slut?"

My heart raced and I could feel my cunt oozing with each change to the original agreement. This was so much more than I had bargained for and yet my excitement at not having to wait a few more weeks until we got to the cabin overrode any concerns. I felt completely exposed and humiliated.

"I understand and agree to the amendments." I licked my lips. "Mistress."

"Slide back and put your feet on the edge of the desk."

With barely a whimper I slid back on the chair. My ass lit up in protest. Mortified, I lifted my feet and braced them wide on the edge of the desk.

"Good girl. Now open those slutty lips and she me how excited you are with the change of terms."

I realized what I thought of as my limit in humiliation, was nothing compared to degrading myself as I pulled my labia open to completely expose my slick cunt. My face and chest burned in embarrassment, yet I craved to be ordered to touch my clit until I screamed out in orgasmic bliss.

"Now," she picked up her reading glasses and flipped open the folder. "Give me the cliff notes. Oh," she glanced up, "Use your right hand and entertain me."

With half closed eyes, I slipped my fingers between my legs. I didn't think it was possible to get wetter, but I was dripping more than I could ever imagine.

As I wrapped up the main points, I was panting and thrusting my hips into the air as I slid my fingers in and out.

"Mistress, I'm close to cumming."

"So?" She barely flicked her eyes in my direction.

"I need to cum. Please, please..." I trailed off as my hips arched up. Begging her with words and actions. My burning ass only added to my pleasure.

"I think you can get closer."

I whimpered and tried to slow down to keep from cumming without permission.

Mistress clucked her tongue and shook her head.

My slick cunt squished as I slipped two fingers deep inside, holding my breath. The sloshing sounds between my legs grew louder the closer I got to an unauthorized orgasm. I tried to stem off going over the edge and keep the pace she wanted, but my musky scent filled the air.

Any hope she might grant me permission was dashed in the next beat. "Stop."

With herculean effort, I slipped my trembling fingers out of my tight hole, pulling my pussy lips wide. The air against my hot cunt did nothing to temper my desire to cum. In fact, it only made it worse. At least without the friction, the risk of cumming without permission was greatly reduced.

"Look at you remembering the cum rule. You need to work on your handwriting. This part about the second. What was moved?"

I swallowed rapidly trying to reengage my sleuthing brain. I wasn't totally sure I knew where in the report she was talking about and my throbbing clit just made coherent thought near impossible.

With an educated guess, I said, "Money looks to have transferred from the business account to an offshore one."

"Huh, doesn't say anything about money transfer. Left hand." She replied as she flipped through the pages.

My legs shook slightly as I plunged two fingers inside my dripping cunt. It didn't take long before my hips started rocking in rhythm to my fingers.

Mistress continued to ask questions, and my brain struggled to keep up. At some point, I realized she was testing me to provide details I'd documented from the week prior.

I groaned and it took all my control to keep my legs spread so she could enjoy my struggle.

After a few more minutes, I gave in, "Mistress, please can I cum?"

"No." She flipped to another page.

"Please, I'm begging," My breath came is short gasps as I tried to control my orgasm. "I need to come so badly. I'm so close."

"You're not very good at multitasking, are you?"

"I just... oh..."

"You're thinking with your slutty cunt."

"Ugh. Please, please mistress. Can I cum?"

"What are you thinking with slut?"

"My cunt mistress. I'm thinking with my slutty cunt." My drenched pussy squelched in agreement as I continued to finger fuck myself. I was shameless in my desire to reach an orgasm, beyond caring how I looked so long as she granted me permission to cum.

"And does that cunt know what's in this report?"

I grunted as my cunt clenched around my fingers. My scent filled the room. "No mistress. My cunt," I panted. "Doesn't know... please mistress... what's in the... oh god..."

"Stop!"

"No." I yanked my fingers from my pussy, my hips bucking the air. My pussy sought for something, anything, to send me over. I was so close.

A bead of sweat tricked down my neck. My left hand gripped my thigh as I fought against rubbing my clit to get relief from a forbidden orgasm.

"Having trouble with the rules again I see." Mistress removed her glasses, sitting back, waiting.

I struggled to catch my breath and keep up with the conversation. Finally, it dawned on me I forgot to pull my pussy lips open for her viewing pleasure.

"I -" I stopped my apology when she raised an eyebrow. "Yes mistress. My cunt makes it difficult for me to remember the rules sometimes."

"Do you want me to help you remember?"

I licked my lips knowing where this was going. "Yes, mistress. Will you please help me remember the rules?"

A genuine smile crossed her face as she walked over to me. "I'm so glad you asked. You know I always want to help a baby slut in need."

She brushed a lock of damp hair off my forehead, then leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing her arms. "So, what rules do you need help remembering?"

I almost laughed out loud at the contradiction of it all. If I couldn't remember in the heat of the moment what the rules were, how was I going to tell her which rules I needed help remembering?

The length of my silence must have said it all as she sneered, "Still got cunt brain?"

"Yes mistress."

"Yes what?"

I swallowed rapidly. "I still have cunt brain, mistress."

My traitorous body ached for release as I participated in degrading myself. I felt every inch of a pathetic slut. Never in a million years would I have thought I would be turned on sitting naked and holding my cunt open for punishment. I was surprised I didn't die on the spot.

"Very well. We'll just add a couple extra for not remembering. First offense is when you slowed down after I explicitly told you to play with yourself and denied your request to cum. There's also the fact you can't remember what's in your own report. You shouldn't be so distracted by your cunt that you can't do your job. And then there's the fact when I told you to stop a second time, you couldn't remember to keep those slutty lips open so I could witness how wet your pathetic cunt gets when you spread your legs and finger fucking your cunt on demand."

I rolled in my lower lip as she rattled off the list of issues. The humiliation seeped into me with each word. Each sentence made me feel unworthy to be my mistress's slut and at the same time, I'd never been so turned on in my life. My cunt throbbing in anticipation.

"When was the last time you were punished, slut?"

"Not since," I cleared my throat. "Not since the day you walked me back to the meadow."

A light eyebrow rose as if she was surprised, I hadn't found another woman to dominate me. "I see. Well, since it's been a while, I'll take it easy on you."

A feeling of disappointment swept through me. She didn't care enough to correct my mistakes. I thought she was letting me off with a warning.

My body started to relax, when she asked, "Where's your training tool?"

The mental gymnastics she could put me through knew no bounds.

"I forgot to bring one, mistress. Would you please help me remember using Mistress's choice?"

Mistress tilted her head back and laughed. She looked beautiful, relaxed as if she finally let go of whatever was eating at her earlier today, or what was in the report, or both.

An exhausted grin crossed my face at the warmth of her laugh. Maybe I was finally doing something right.

"And here I thought we were going to add some more strokes. Remind me, why is it mistress's choice?" She turned to pick up something on the desk and I wondered when I became a needy slut, begging to be humiliated and punished.

It was plain to see and smell that I was enjoying every minute of being treated like a submissive slut. Being forced to humiliate myself and ask for help remembering the rules made it even more thrilling. I wanted her to be proud of me, despite my short comings of being a well-behaved slut.

When she turned back with a wooden ruler in her hand, my breath caught in my throat. Dear god. She couldn't seriously be about to strike my clit with a wooden ruler. I wouldn't be able to take it.

"I can certainly help with memory issues. Let's just see if you can take it like good sluts do when they know they deserve remedial training. Count," she ordered as she flicked the ruler against my throbbing clit.

"Ugh," I cried out, my back arched up in reaction to the pain. "One, mistress."

The second strike was a little harder than the first and my hips bucked up from the shock.

I whimpered, "Two, mistress."

She paused waiting until I pressed my ass back against the chair before delivering the next blow.

"Uh, three, mistress." My fingers pressed into my labia as I fought to keep them from being hit.

With each blow, my thighs shook battling to keep my legs spread. Even as the pain radiated over my clit, I could feel my cunt juices dribbling down my ass. Not knowing how many strokes I was going to receive made it more intoxicating.

By the time I called the tenth strike, tears were streaming down my cheeks. My clit throbbed between wanting the pain to stop and aching for release.

"You're doing well slut. Put your hands on the arms of the chair. If they come off or you close your legs, even for a second, we'll add five and finish with that hard clit you're sporting."

"Yes, mistress," I replied in relief the next few strokes would be on my outer lips. I felt I could take this pain better than my poor clit.

"Eleven, twelve, mistress," I called out as the ruler struck my labia in rapid succession.

The next two strokes seem to be almost gentle or maybe my pussy was so overstimulated it couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure.

Mistress bent over holding the ruler close to my cunt. She pulled the top back then let it go. I saw the wooden stick smack my cunt, but the delay between sound and pain of the strike took a few seconds.

"Thirteen, mistress!"

The tears that had stopped threatened to start again.

Another flick had me screaming out, "Fourteen, mistress." I was grateful she lived in a development where the houses were well spaced. Hopefully, well-built and soundproof too as I screamed out, "Fifteen, mistress."

Mistress stood back up and walked behind me.

It gave me enough time to catch my breath. The silence drew out and I wondered if she'd left the room. Was my remedial training over?

I barely caught a movement above my head milliseconds before the flat ruler struck my cunt. It landed from top to bottom in one stroke.

My cunt juices splattered and tears slide down my cheeks as I screamed out, "Sixteen, mistress."

Again, a long wait until the next one fell. She waited for me to catch my breath or maybe she was playing on my anxiety.

It was surreal as I watched the ruler strike and the delayed reaction as my brain registered the pain. My fingers dug into the arm of the chair as the pain radiated between my legs.

It dawned on me that I could ask for mercy. I was pretty sure she'd grant it, but some warped part of me wanted to prove to her I could take what she dished out. After all, this was what I deserved. I made the mess, so I had to clean it up.

"Seventeen, mistress." My fingers started to go numb. There was no way I could take more.

The next two strokes came back-to-back, and I barely had time to count them much less register the pain. My legs shook with an effort to keep them open.

Mistress stepped back around. "You're doing very well baby slut. I'm proud of you asking for and accepting help like the horny slut cunt muncher you are."

"Thank you, mistress. I appreciate your patience."

The next strike was so quick I didn't even see her flick her wrist.

"Twenty, mistress."

She bent over holding the ruler close, as if she was measuring my cunt. When she had the ruler lined up to strike my cunt lips from top to bottom in one stroke, she looked up at me.

I panted with expectation and fear.

She pulled back on the wooden stick as far as it could go without breaking.

"Smells like you're enjoying your lesson slut."

"Yes, mistress. Sluts like being trained to be better at serving their mistress."

"So, you want to be a better slut?"

"Yes mi - holy fuck!" I screamed, my fingers gripped the chair as the last flick caught my sore and throbbing cunt from top to bottom. I lifted my hips as if raising up would relieve the pain.

"Twenty-one, mistress," I panted out as my hips pulsed up and down searching for release from the pain and absurd pleasure.

I watched in disbelief as she measured my cunt again.

"Ugh! Fuck." Tears streamed down my face. I was surprised my grip didn't break the arm of the chair, but there was no way I was adding five more to my clit. "Twenty-two, mistress." I sniffled.

Mistress put the ruler on the desk, watching my pathetic body humping the air as I struggled to catch my breath. I wondered if she knew how close to cumming I was. Just a little flick of my clit would most likely send me screaming over the edge.

"Did that help you a little slut?"

"Yes mistress. Thank you, mistress for helping me be a better slut."

With a chuckle she said, "Oh, I think you can thank me better than that."

She walked over to the couch, undoing her belt. With herculean effort I forced my ass back on the chair, taking care not to move my hands until she gave me permission.

Before she could prompt me, I asked, "Mistress may I use my tongue to thank you for your patience and willingness to train me properly?"

"Of course, baby slut. Kneel," she pointed to a spot on the floor. She draped her slacks over the arm of the couch as I knelt at her feet.

At least she was going to let me taste her. Not quite as good as cumming, but I would enjoy wearing her pussy perfume home with pride knowing that I had pleasured her in some small way.

She spread her legs wide and I leaned forward, kissing the inside of her right thigh just above the knee, inhaling. Her pink pussy was dripping, removing any doubt about her excitement over humiliating me. She was just as turned on as I was about changing the rules.

I dropped feather light kisses up the inside of one thigh and then the other, rubbing my nose between her labia. I flicked my tongue over her hard clit, moaning into her slick pussy.

"That's it, baby slut. Use that tongue. Show me how grateful you are."

I ran the tip of my tongue lightly up and over her clit, back and forth not wanting to rush. The sweet nectar of her arousal coated my tongue. I rocked forward on my hands dipping my tongue just inside her hot hole. I heard her moan as my nose brushed up against her swollen clit.

Slowly, I sucked and nibbled at her sensitive skin, bobbing my head up and down.

"Deeper cunt muncher."

I slid my tongue as deep as I could inside her. I pulled back slightly and slid my face around in circles, alternating between pushing my tongue inside and rubbing my face over her pussy.

I knew she was getting close when her muscles clenched around my tongue. I nibbled at her labia before my lips sealed around her hard throbbing nub. She bucked against my face.

"Good slut. Yes," she called out as her orgasm rolled over her.

Her orgasmic juices pulsed out, and I licked it up as quickly as possible, not wanting to waste her sweet nectar.

"That's a good baby slut," she panted. I felt her fingers on the back of my head as she braced her feet on the edge of the couch. With a hard tug my face was buried in her pussy. "Are you done thanking me cunt muncher?"

"No mistress," I mumbled against her wet center.

She gripped my hair with both hands forcing my face up and down over her wet clit and labia. Yanking me in one direction or another to guide my nose and tongue where she wanted the most pleasure.

I desperately wanted to slip my fingers inside and fuck her hard, but she held my face tightly to her center.

"Oh, yeah slut... that's it... thank me baby slut."

Pin pricks darted over my scalp as she used my hair to guide me.

"Thank you, mistress." I rolled my tongue, pushing back inside her.

I gasped for air as she held my face against her center for longer and longer periods of time. Unexpectedly, she'd pull me back, allowing me to gulp air.

"Thank you for teaching me..." I didn't get to finish as she mashed my face against her pussy.

Her hips bucked as she yanked my head down, holding me tight when she arched up. Her breath came in gasps. I felt her muscles tighten again as I nipped and licked her clit, rubbing my nose across her pussy as much as she allowed me.

"Fucking ungrateful slut. Get that worthless tongue in me." She held her hips up as I pushed my tongue in and out of her slick hole as quickly as I could.

"Fuck," she screamed out as she held me tightly against her. Her juices covered my face.

As she came down from her second orgasm, she guided my face up and down then side to side making sure every inch of my face was covered in her cum.

After her breath returned to normal, she stood. Still on my hands and knees I looked up at this tall goddess. I wanted to ask for relief. It was such a huge turn on serving her.

The ache at knowing she was going to send me home horny and wearing her cunt perfume made me want to rub my thighs together. I obediently keep my legs wide on the off chance she would grant me the privilege of playing with my cunt. Or better yet to feel her fingers flicking my clit until I got off.

"Thank you for letting me be your cunt muncher, mistress."

"Dress me."

My face burned red as I crawled over to her panties and held them out for her to step in them. When she didn't raise a foot, I looked up.

She stood with her hands on her hips looking down at me with a frown.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized she wasn't going to lift a hand, er rather, foot to help me. I gently wrapped my fingers around one ankle lifting it up and guiding her foot through the opening. After I put her other foot through the hole, I slowly drug them up over her long silky legs.

I almost whimpered at covering her beautiful plump and post orgasmic pussy. I licked my lips drawing a laugh from my mistress.

"Didn't eat enough pussy cunt muncher?"

"I - I love eating your pussy mistress. I don't know that I can ever get enough, mistress."

After I had dressed her, she pointed towards the guest chair. "Stand. Hands on head."

"Yes, mistress." I laced my hands behind my head and made sure to stick my tits out when she picked up the nipple clamps. I'd hoped every little thing I did might add up to allowing me some relief soon.

The tug on the chain sent a wave of pain through my already sore nipples. She picked up my briefcase and walked me back to the kitchen. She set the case to the side of the table before pushing me over it.

Automatically, I grabbed the other side and spread my legs giving her full access to my ass and cunt. A searing bolt of electricity shot into my tits as the clamps pressed against the table. I was going to be sent home well used and frustrated.

"Now for the rest of the penalty," she said.

Rest of the penalty? I swallowed trembling as the first blow of the wooden spoon struck my ass. As the first stroke lit up my ass, I remembered that the earlier punishment was only a partial penalty at changing the rules.

"Twenty-six, mistress."

"Might be hope for you yet, baby slut," she said as she brought the spoon down again.

My tits pressed against the table making the clamps bite tighter. I closed my eyes as I counted out another twenty-five strokes on each of my ass cheeks. Sitting was going to be difficult on the drive home. I wondered how long it was going to be before sitting was comfortable.

"Damn," my mistress said after the last strike. Her fingers traced circles over my ass. "I forgot how much I love seeing this red ass."

"Thank you, for not cancelling the agreement, mistress."

"You're welcome, baby slut. So happy you enjoy having a red ass as much as I enjoy making it red. Until further notice, you will continue paying the penalty every time you arrive and leave."

Silently, I groaned at the new rule, but obediently replied, "Yes, mistress."

"Now," she pulled me up by my hair. Fire raced through my chest, and I couldn't suppress a gasp.

She gave an impatient tug and led me back to the washroom closet. My nipples were pulled taut as she clipped the lead to the rack.

"Get dressed, baby slut."

As gently as I could, I pulled on my slacks and shoes while she retrieved my case from the kitchen. She smirked watching me dance into my clothes trying to avoid the biting clamps.

"I don't need my neighbors' knowing I allows sluts in the house. In the future, park further towards the back in case a neighbor unexpectedly shows up. Sluts shouldn't use the front door anyway," she unclipped the clamps releasing a fresh wave of pain on my tits. "You can leave and enter through here." She pointed toward the door with the windows.

Not even allowed to use the front door like a normal person, I dropped my head ashamed. Somehow, I felt lower than a common slut.

As I started to finish dressing, she pulled my shirt and jacket from my hands. "Since your whole goal for the evening was for the world to see your slutty little tits, you can drive home without these."

My face turned bright red as she pulled door open. The new humiliating request sunk in. She was ordering me to drive home topless.

"Out you go, baby slut."

Panic crept in and my body started to shake. The blush from my face raced down over my chest. She couldn't be serious.

A long moment passed as I fought to control my breath. As I gathered my wits something occurred to me.

I cleared my throat, forcing my words to come out calm and steady, "The NFSW amendment does not apply to public spaces or offices, mistress."

Her green eyes darkened as she studied me. "I was perfectly clear in my rules. Sluts don't wear clothes, any clothes, on my property without my express permission." Her eyes dropped down toward my legs as if making a point that she had already bent the rules for me tonight.

"You should thank me for allowing you to wear anything before leaving. I should make you strip before sending you on your merry way."

I closed my eyes are the possibility she would force me to strip.

"Look me at me baby slut."

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, preparing for the next command to remove the pants I'd just put on. Her eyes didn't waver when she met mine, but, somehow, they seemed softer. I couldn't describe why, but I felt safe.

"You decided to show off your slutty tits, not me."

I swallowed ignoring my aching pussy as it grew damp at being scolded like a child.

"What you do after you leave my home is up to you. But while you're on my property, these," she held out my shirt and jacket. "Remain off. Understood, baby slut?"

"Yes, mistress. Thank you." My hand shook as I took the shirt and jacket before she could change her mind.

She held the door open as I passed through with my case in one hand and clothes in the other. I jumped when I heard the door close and lock behind me. I was on my own for the long hike to my car.

I looked around the dark yard which seemed fairly private, but one never knew who was lurking. I shook my head and started my journey ignoring the dampness growing between my legs.

The cool air teased my burning breasts but did nothing to take the edge off. If anything my embarrassment at being forced to walk half naked to my car, cause my heart to pound and my need for relief to grow.

My anxiety ticked up a notch as I cleared the house. Beyond the point of no return and my car seemed like a million miles away. I could just slip on my jacket, just my jacket. It was dark and my jacket was black. Maybe she'd not notice. If she was even looking.

Odds were she was watching me. She'd want to know if I followed her orders or make a mad dash for cover or be disobedient and put on my shirt before I left. I could imagine the disappointment in her face if I didn't follow the rules per our agreement.

The last thing I wanted to do was let her down. I might be new to being a slut, but I wanted her to know I was eager, willing even, to be the best slut she'd ever had. With a perverse sense of pride, I forced myself to walk at a steady pace.

My heart beat fast, and my brain screamed to run, knowing that at any moment someone could come up the drive or across the lawn. It seemed like hours as I walked resolutely down the drive. The feeling of shame still hung over me and I had to force myself to breathe deeply to keep from panicking.

I wondered if the last move was just a power play, to heighten my submission or maybe gauge my reaction to crossing over a line. Was she testing me to see if I would push back on my limits?

Whatever the motivation, it certainly did make me feel more vulnerable. The thrill of following her instructions, even though she'd agreed that public spaces were off limits, made me more confident with each step. My mind ran through the options of where I could dress without being caught on a camera versus the thirty minute drive to safety of my garage - if the lights were in my favor. Would she be proud of me if I followed her initial command to drive home topless? I moaned at the thought of it.

I slid into the driver's seat, pressing my thighs together. I laid my clothes on the passenger seat. The heat in my ass flared up and my fingers gripped the steering wheel.

As I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the main road, my left hand drifted over my thighs. Despite it being swollen and sore, my cunt still quivered for attention. I moaned, shifting in my seat. I hoped it was not too sore to pound my pussy with my new vibrator.

I wondered if the saleswoman knew as much about impact tools as she did about remote controlled vibrators.