Master Richard Baron
I watched her from the corner of the room and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the whole, ‘deer in the headlights’ look that was on her countenance.
It was one of the reasons that I had requested her; well to be blunt—I had demanded that she be the reporter on this segment.
She had no idea who had hired her and she most certainly had no idea that I was her Boss; being that I own the magazine that she works for.
I knew that she had never been in the lifestyle, but the girl had the ability to write about BDSM as if she lived it 24/7.
I had read her excerpts that she posted on a blog, and then moved on to her BDSM books that she authored. I had also researched her through a private detective I hired.
I am a very wealthy, powerful man, and the need to be—and stay in control is a must for me.
I can’t say that I wasn’t intrigued with this girl. How could a woman who had never been privy to the lifestyle of BDSM be so accurate in her novels?
I did not know how she mastered that amount of insight into the lifestyle ‘yet,’ but you could bet your bottom dollar that I would before my little game with her was over.
I knew that I would have to keep an eye on her tonight. I had seen people come to these parties and be overwhelmed by what they saw.
There was no doubt that someone who had never been in the lifestyle could, and most likely would, suffer from a case of culture shock.
After all, I didn’t want the poor girl shell shocked on her first evening with us—now did I?
I would save the shell shock for when I had her alone.
I was already looking forward to this little escapade. I pushed away the intrusive thoughts of all the nasty and dirty things that I planned on doing to her. Right now was more about studying her responses and getting a read on her.
Ophelia
I was intrigued but no amount of intrigue could overshadow the awkward feeling I had of being alone—alone and unaccompanied—at what could possibly end up being the setting for an orgy.
Though part of me was intrigued, part of me was disgusted. I could not shake the feeling that money was changing hands. No one could convince me that whoever owned this slave trading establishment was not getting their palm greased. I had seen enough and rose to leave; as inconspicuously as possible.
Master Richard Baron
I knew the little bitch was getting ready to walk out and I made a bee-line for the door to stop her.
It really was funny to see her with a look of being caught red handed doing something that she knew that she shouldn’t.
I approached her, getting well within her physical space.
She began to back up—so much so that I now had her right where I wanted her—cornered!
I grabbed her arm pulling her towards my office.
“Hey buddy; I’m not one of the party favors. Get the fuck off of me!”
“I know exactly who you are—being that you work for me!”
By now I had her in my office.
“Sit! Did I give you permission to leave?”
“Permission? Who the hell do you think that you are?”
“I’m the man who hired you to do a story; now do what I hired you to do and get your ass back in there and do the damn story!”
“I’ve seen enough, I’m going back to my hotel room to finish it.”
“Like hell you are, you young lady are going back in there with me and watching the rest of the show.”
I leaned in and graveled in her ear, “On my lap! Close your mouth sweetie before something flies in.”
I jerked her ass back out to the sitting room and pulled her down onto my lap. Let the little bitch feel my excitement that was now growing—though it was trapped within the confines of my tailored slacks.
It had been a long time since I had been in the presence of a spit fire challenge like her and I was just getting started. I had been in a long drought and was thoroughly bored with the sexual slaves that I had been privy to. Breaking a BDSM virgin in was just what I needed at this junction in life.
I sat on his lap watching the patrons devour the tied down slave and I could feel the hardening in his pants beneath me.
Suddenly the show was no longer disgusting me; to my horror—it was turning me on.
I sat listening and watching, as he spoke vile things into my ear and then began to threaten me.
I ran my hand up her skirt as I wrapped my fist around her hair and jerked her head back; forcing her to listen to my threats. I stroked my finger over her sodden, satin underwear; as I spoke. “You will never convince me that you write BDSM stories as on target as you do and you don’t have tendencies. You are not going back to the hotel, but you are going to my Master suite. You do want to keep your job, right?”