The Art of Erotica

Breakfast: A Chapter From Named and Shamed by Christina Mandara

If Jenny thought life was hard under the expert tutelage of Mark, being faced with a stable full of sex-starved pony girls poses several more challenges. For instance, how do you bring eleven young women to orgasm in a timely fashion? But to her surprise, tackling the problem with experimentation and enthusiasm, she finds herself enjoying the experience.

When training begins it is anything but enjoyable, however. Harnessed in pony girl tack, Jenny’s body is encircled with leather, rubber and steel. It nips, chafes and rubs cruelly, especially when she’s faced with a morning of naughty games in the exercise yard.

Breakfast

It was 5 am in the morning and he was already ensconced in his office. Sleep had been a hope even more elusive than that of a two week vacation. Although insomnia wasn’t a stranger to his bedroom, it had been getting worse for the past few months. The stress of trying to cram far too much into days which were far too short was finally beginning to take its toll. He used sex to relieve the pressure, as much as possible, but even that outlet wasn’t achieving as much as it normally did. As he flicked through graph after graph of stock performance on his laptop, he wondered why he wasn’t exhausted after the activities of yesterday.

Marianna had been a delightful playmate. Although he didn’t consider her beautiful per se, he was well aware he was in the minority. She was a temptress that could rival the beauty of a Siren and as a femme fatale, she had a unique charm that would be the undoing of most of the male population. Mark, sadly, had seen it all before. Call him jaded, but Marianna was just a little ‘too pretty,’ and what’s more, she knew it. Oh, he was well aware that she was uncertain of herself around him, as well she should be, but her charm with most of mankind was still intact.

They’d repeated the coffee game. He didn’t think she stood a chance, but she’d managed to surprise him. After his cock had softened in her mouth, she diligently went to work cleaning him and her skill was such that by the end of her tongue-lapping session he’d almost been ready for round two, but he’d reigned himself in. It was probably best not to scare the girl silly on her first assignment. He decided to let her fetch him another cup of steamy caffeine so they could play out his little number once again. Annoyingly, it entailed getting down on his hands and knees again, and searching out the tiny handcuff key before she could accomplish the feat.

Then, he realised he wasn’t thinking outside the box. He smiled to himself. Her hands weren’t tied in any way, were they? Fetching his magnetic pen, he merely asked her to open her mouth and slotted the pen, magnet facing outward, between her teeth. He then relayed the problem that was facing her and made her aware that she would be tackling it. After five minutes of contortionist bending that a circus performer would be proud of, he took pity on her.

‘I didn’t say you couldn’t use your hands, Marianna. Do hurry up, sweetpea, or I might have to call the fire brigade in after all.’ He raised an eyebrow to make it clear he was not joking.

Marianna, with the threat of several burly men and public exposure fresh upon her back, used her hands expertly. Not only did she fish the key out, but she also managed to release herself and all in less than two minutes. She then bobbed a courtesy of thanks and strode from the room, with her skirt flying in tatters around her waist, to deliver him a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee. Mark sat back in his leather chair with the air of a contented man. His evening now had a rosy glow with which to grace its darkness.

When Marianna had returned, she’d set the cup down upon his desk and resumed her submissive pose. She was trying, he’d give her that.

‘Thank you. You may now try to accomplish your challenge one last time. Failure to do so will result in your dismissal.’

He had no intention of delivering her P60, but he wanted to know what she’d come up with under pressure. It was no secret that he tested boundaries and damned if he wasn’t going to examine each and every one of hers this evening. When she pulled a single, black plastic straw out of the waistband of her ruined skirt, he knew he had lost the battle. His lips twisted wryly. She was smart, he’d give her that. The good news was that the war had only just commenced and he knew how to fight dirty.

By the end of their session, there had been more coffee decorating Marianna’s blouse than there was in his stomach, but it hadn’t been entirely her fault. She’d been the epitome of submissive professionalism and he’d been the adolescent teenager who couldn’t wait to get his pants off. It was unlike him. He was a man of finesse, control and precision and here he was slamming into her with the ferocity of a mountain lion. Deciding to give her the ‘wallbanger’ treatment, he’d pressed her up against the toughened-glass window panes of his office, her legs wrapped around his waist, while he’d tested the building’s structural integrity. The panes held beautifully, thank God, which was more than could be said for him. Having made a point to focus on nothing more than the theatrical display of tempestuous fireworks outside, he’d exploded inside her and forgotten himself, his vision accidentally dipping to the neon vista below. Feeling the awful fear spiral through him, he’d whirled around to focus his eyes on something familiar and had nearly decapitated Marianna in the process. Taking several deep breaths, he’d brought her face up to his to apologise, but he needn’t have worried. She was so caught up in her world of bliss that her head simply lolled back on his shoulders, eyelids closing sleepily in pleasure. His secret was safe. Giving her a few moments to compose herself, he’d then stuck his head out of the door and enlisted one of her colleagues to help get her presentable enough to be sent home. If he let her out wearing that skirt, she’d be arrested for indecent exposure and that would be a shame. He had plans for the girl, lots of plans.

When he’d returned to his apartment later that evening, stepped under a scalding hot shower and sat himself down with a good book, he found that he couldn’t relax. Miss Redcliff seemed to have imbued his body with a nasty shot of nervous energy that could not be expelled. Or, to put it another way, not until he’d had a chance to discharge some of his energy within her. Then, hopefully, things would go back to normal.

Closing the file in front of him, Mark rubbed his eyes. He was relatively pleased with his efforts this morning. Having almost tackled his back-log, he had committed himself to returning to Albrecht, purely to set eyes on one particular pony-girl. He gritted his teeth even as the thought took shape. He was not supposed to be there today. The auction was going to take place tomorrow and if he showed up today he would be loudly broadcasting his interest in Miss Redcliff, which meant that all and sundry would line up to bid for her. Rushing all the way up to Lincolnshire was a ridiculous idea, but it would give him the chance to look her over in her new pony-girl tack. The thought of her body encased in leather strapping had him salivating. This wasn’t one of his smartest ideas. It would put even more pressure on his overactive libido, which was why he’d demanded that Marianna come in early today. She could at least take the edge off his desire, which was sure to increase ten-fold as the day wore on. He’d have to resort to alcohol this evening, he was sure of it.

Absorbing himself in charts, figures and predictions, he only noticed that 7am had come and gone by accident. A memo in his diary flashed on screen, bleeped and reminded him to make sure he’d booked his place for the upcoming ‘Tech of the Future’ convention that was being held in Berlin. He hadn’t, so he’d emailed through a missive for one of his secretary’s to find and sort out the relevant details, such as hotels, flights and tickets. And that’s when it hit him. It was now 7.10am. Marianna was supposed to be here at 7am sharp. Frowning in displeasure, he stalked through the door of his office and surveyed the expanse of desks before him. Nothing. There was not a soul to be seen at this early hour and the lighting was still on the dim, soft glow of the default night security setting.

Picking up the telephone nearest to him in a fit of anger, rattling a red lipstick off its precarious perch on top of a computer screen in the process, he immediately dialled Zystrom’s 24hr manned reception.

‘Please get me Marianna,’ he said, in a quiet, predatory voice that shouted danger far louder than any alarm could have managed.

‘Yes, Mr Matthews. Has she already left your office? She signed in and took the elevator not 20 minutes ago.’

‘In that case, ignore my request, Corinne.’ Mark knew each secretary by name and some considerably more intimately than that. ‘Many thanks.’ He hung up the receiver with a discreet click and pursed his lips. So, she was here… but where? Going into stealth mode, he began to explore. He wondered if she was purposefully trying to avoid him. Had he hurt her last night? Upset her, maybe? The list of possibilities was endless, so he gave up speculating and embarked upon entering the female race’s number one favourite hiding spot.

Starting with the ladies toilets, he sauntered casually inside and even though there wasn’t a sound to be heard, he inspected each of the vacant cubicles. There was nothing more exciting than the irritating smell of antiseptic and bleach to be discovered. He then checked the kitchenette. There was the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air and a coffee machine which was still gurgling, but no sign of Marianna. Looking inside the store cupboard, which was still dark, his illumination of the room gave him no further clues. In desperation, he checked the men’s toilet, which was rarely used by any other male bar him. No Marianna. He walked back to his office and was further annoyed to find the smell of her perfume on the air and a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. What was she, invisible? In a state of agitation, he stormed back out into the open plan workspace and yelled, ‘Marianna!’

A single figure shot up at the back of the room, standing to attention and almost completely obscured by a very large potted palm tree.

‘Yes Sir?’

Mark shook his head and let his eyes roll. ‘How long have you been hiding behind there?’

‘This is my desk, Sir.’ He simply narrowed his eyes at her and waited. An explanation would be forthcoming or he’d find a nice rattan cane with which to induce one.

‘Since about 6.30am, Sir.’ She stepped awkwardly to the side of the palm, so he could see her.

‘That wasn’t what I meant. Have you been behind that thing since the beginning of your career with Zystrom?’

‘Yes Sir.’ She nodded.

Well, didn’t that explain a few things? ‘Please take a seat in my office, Marianna.’ Picking up the telephone once more, he dialled reception and asked for a message to be passed along to housekeeping. It involved the removal of one very tall and somewhat leafy houseplant.

Marianna, her heels clicking at a frenetic pace upon the polished wooden floor, felt her body turn inside out. Several orgasms and six hours of sleep had done little to ease her nerves. The only reason she had slept at all, was due to the fact that her body was exhausted after Matthew’s particular brand of treatment. Today she felt wonderful, her cheeks practically glowed with health, but that didn’t stop her stomach churning with fear. She ached to please him. She needed to serve in any capacity that he would have her and she wanted to be used. After her long period of inactivity, her body had suffered a rude, but exquisite awakening and had started screaming instantly for the more of the same. Her fingers were firmly crossed that this was to be the case.

Having taken more care than normal with her morning routine, she was as fresh as a newly risen daisy. She’d showered, she’d plucked, she’d pulled, she’d smoothed, she’d brushed and she’d sprayed. Each hair on her head had been arranged with perfect precision and ordered to stay that way; it was a shame that the rest of her body wasn’t as co-operative. Obediently, she had foregone the instinct to wear both bra and panties. It felt decidedly strange and yet, her body enjoyed the decadence of being free of the restraints of intimate female apparel. Or it had, until she’d walked silently out of the elevator and spied Mr Matthews hard at work, tie askew and hair ruffled as he’d chewed absently on the end of his pen. Her nipples had immediately peaked into hard points, rubbing against the starched material of her black shift dress, and as there wasn’t a lot of space to be had in there. If they continued to point forwards with such enthusiasm, things were going to get a little sore before long. Sore nipples she could contend with, the instant heat she’d felt in her loins upon seeing Matthews was going to be a problem. As she’d moved to sit down at her desk, the evidence of her arousal made a run for it and trickled down her inner thigh. Urrghh. There was a reason panties had been invented. Having turned on her computer and tried to think thoughts that were asexual in nature, she’d become increasingly concerned as the slow trickle of fluid refused to ebb. Fidgeting upon her chair, she’d pouted. Soon there would be a wet patch on the seat of her dress. That would be highly attractive. Wondering how long he’d make her sit there, she’d decided she’d probably be soaked through by the time she was summoned. There was the option of running to the ladies and wadding up some tissue paper, but how elegant would that look when he undressed her? She couldn’t very well take little dabs at herself in the office because she’d practically have to hitch her skirt to waist height to accomplish the task. Squeezing her vaginal muscles together tightly and holding the image of Homer Simpson in her head, she’d had some small success at controlling her urges. She’d even managed to have a short conversation with her best friend, the pot plant. Then Matthews had started running this way and that around the office and all of her best intentions had fled. When he finally shouted her name, she stood up guiltily, as if he already knew what state her body had managed to twist itself in. All she could think of was how quickly she could manoeuver him into having sex with her. What a laugh that was. You didn’t manoeuver Mark anywhere, especially in the bedroom antics department.

Pushing open the door to his office, she crept inside and gingerly placed her backside into a sculpted, art nouveau hardwood chair that had been painstakingly carved out of a single piece of wood. The thing had probably cost a small fortune. Her ass protested at the hard contact, but it was only a passing grumble. There was some spring in the chair and the motion helped to calmed her a little. The thing wasn’t going to stop her hands shaking; she’d need Valium for that. At least she knew she was in the right place. It was the only additional chair in the room. Now she could only hope her backside generated enough heat to dry the underside of her dress. Trying her hardest to remember her training, which demanded she looked poised and elegant at all times, she fought a battle to stop herself fidgeting with her hands. Breathing deeply, she tried to maintain an aura of serenity.

‘You are allowed two minutes in which to bring yourself to orgasm, Marianna. Failure will result in a forfeit of my choosing. I will, of course, be watching.’

Tranquillity, calmness and serenity flew out of the window and took a fifty-story dive to the ground below. Mark had entered the office silently and had not bothered to close the door. Seating himself at his desk, he gave her a wide grin and pointedly looked at his watch. Marianna’s breath caught in her throat and the damp patch on her dress, if possible, managed to get even bigger.

Mark returned his attention to the computer in front of him and the sound of his agile fingers tapping away in earnest could be heard.

Marianna’s initial response was panic. The door was open and anyone could walk in. Yes, it was early, but there was always a chance of discovery. He’d done it on purpose. Still, what did that matter? He owned her body for at least the next three years, and she was his to do with as he pleased. It was clear the man wanted to play. Well, that was just fine with her. If his eyes weren’t all over her at the end of the upcoming show, she’d eat her panties. Err… actually she’d have to eat someone else’s panties, but that was by the by. Focus Marianna, focus.

Standing tall and straddling the chair between her long, lithe legs, Marianna began to delicately pull her shift dress upwards. Sliding the material up her body, inch by inch, cradling her breasts seductively as the fabric moved higher, she slowly revealed a pair of black lace stocking tops and the tips of a black suspender belt. Mark didn’t even spare a glance at her. How flattering. Bunching the fabric of her dress up and pulling it over her head, she figured she might as well have a good time. It looked like it was going to be feast or famine in the orgasm department, so she’d better to make hay while the sun shined. The dress sailed to the floor with a single flick of her wrist.

Closing her eyes, she raised supple arms above her head and stretched out her body cat-like, allowing her breasts to thrust themselves forward. Bringing her right arm down elegantly, she brought two fingers to her lips and slowly dragged them into her mouth. Sucking on them, like the sweetest of lollipops, she used her tongue to liberally coat them in saliva. Turning her fingers sideways, as if to save the precious, lubricating drops from harm, she traced an anfractuous path down her body and let her hips move from side to side, as if to ease the path of her slippery digits as they moved lower, towards the burning heat of her core. If this was the way Matthews wanted to play, so be it. She was just going to appreciate the chance to chase a couple of endorphins. She was to orgasms as a fish was to the sea. Addicted to the act, delirious in its presence and fully aware of the pleasure her body could give and receive. When her fingers reached her clit she rubbed furiously. Already aroused, this was an act that wouldn’t take long.

Even though his eyes were not upon her, he observed Marianna discreetly, out of the corner of his eye. Her naked body was as fragile as it was delicate. She had not been eating properly, if the sharp definition of her rib cage was any indication. He would see to that. Watching those big green eyes close, he itched to make her open them again. Closing your eyes, in his book, was cheating. He stifled the instinct. He’d let her do as she pleased this one time, God only knew she’d probably earned it. He’d turned the pressure up and she was dealing with it in the best way she knew how. As of yet, she hadn’t disappointed.

Her long, fuschia-pink nails scraped down either side of her naked labia, before delving between the folds and letting them tease her inner flesh with the gentlest of caresses. Dipping them inside her pussy, she groaned aloud as the move cause her hips to gyrate. Steadying herself with one hand on the back of the wooden rocking chair, she used the other to finger her already engorged clit to the best of her ability. Even though she knew it was not the case, she imagined Mark’s eyes all over her body, drinking her in, breathing hard and imagining how he could best put her body to use in a few minutes time. Thighs that were honed from long, enforced workouts with a personal trainer began to lunge up and down as her back slid up against the smooth frame of the hardwood chair. Her fingers sank into her core, over and over, as her body bounced up and down expertly on her high heels. The chair rocked back and forth, with precarious abandon. Her long chocolate curls tumbled over her face, wisps of which had caught against the wax of her lip gloss, but she barely even noticed. Her ample breasts bounced up and down, her nipples had hardened into deep red berries and her loins were burning. Even if they’d been on fire, she couldn’t have stopped her fingers from continuing their onward journey.

‘Time’s up.’

Marianna screamed. Her fingers wobbled unsteadily on her clit. He had to be joking. ‘Please,’ she begged.

‘Your two minutes is up, Marianna. Hands by your sides or I will be forced to handcuff them behind your back. If you disobey me in this, I will leave you naked and spread-eagled on the middle of the floor outside my office, so your colleagues may witness my displeasure at your performance.’

She let out a sob of frustration. Another, ‘Please,’ left her lips and it was sweetly uttered.

‘You’ve managed to go without orgasms for nearly two years, Marianna. I should think a few hours will be a piece of cake.’ His eyes twinkled dangerously. He dared her to defy him.

Slowly straightening her fingers from the claw shapes they had formed, she managed to move them to her sides. He was not joking. She’d seen several of her colleagues displayed in such a fashion in her short time at Zystrom and she did not want to be one of them. Taking a shaky breath, she opened her eyes and faced him.

‘Good girl.’ He got to his feet, walked around his desk and bending over in his custom-made sartorial splendour, picked up her dress. He lifted the dark, damask dress to his face and inhaled deeply. ‘Such a beautiful smell,’ he said, through heavily lidded eyes. Handing her the fabric, he couldn’t resist adding, ‘And it’s rather flattering to know you’re so desperate for my attention.’

Marianna could have groaned, but she resisted the impulse. Oh well, these were the joys of being a submissive. As long as she was in Matthew’s set of headlights there would be no privacy or secrets.

As the material settled in her hands, his fingers accidentally brushed her elbow and an arc of electricity shot up her arm. She schooled her features. She would not let him have any more of herself today.

‘Your forfeit is to go and find me breakfast, sweetness. Get me fruit and lots of it. Full of anti-oxidants and good for my health, I hear.’ His back was to her, as he was already walking back to his desk, but he was pretty sure she’d detected humour in his voice. To hurry her along, he added:

‘Quickly, Marianna, I’m hungry.’ The tone of his voice left no doubt as to what he was hungry for, and it wasn’t fruit.

Marianna was not amused. It was 7.30am and even though Zystrom was in the heart of London, grocery stores were not in plentiful supply at this ridiculous hour. Add stupid heels that were not made for walking, a coat that was made for effect rather than warmth, a wet backside and the additional lack of a warm layer of undergarments and you had one unhappy submissive. Yet another car honked its horn as it worked its way through London traffic. The gentleman in question had even wound down his window and added, ‘Nice pair of legs, love.’ If he’d said, ‘Fancy a fuck?’ she might have cried.

Up ahead in the distance, a corner shop looked promising. She could see bright light spilling onto the street and another customer ahead had already managed to wrestle his way in through the door, by wedging himself between several newspaper stands. There was a fifty-fifty chance that it would sell fruit. As she’d seen little in the way of other options, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, including some much needed warmth. Grabbing the lapels of her coat tighter around her neck, she entered the store and felt eyes upon her, beady eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t because the assistant behind the till expected her to steal anything, the cut of her clothes and the designer handbag would disabuse him of that notion. He had other things on his mind.

‘Can I help you, Miss?’ The rough cockney accent of the youth made her smile.

The gentleman who had walked in the store before her and who was hurriedly searching the aisles for something himself, looked a little disgruntled to have his position in the queue so easily usurped.

‘Yes please. I don’t suppose you sell fruit?’

‘There’s a fridge at the back, with sandwiches, snacks, soft fruit and the like. Would you like any help?’

Mr Unhappy, who was now a few metres away and looking decidedly cross had her replying, ‘No, thank you. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She smiled her thousand kilowatt smile at the assistant, whose jaw dropped in awe, and marched hurriedly away.

When she reached the small refrigerator, there wasn’t a great deal of interest. Plenty of sandwiches, some sausage rolls and right in the corner, a couple of apples, some bananas and a few punnets of strawberries could be found. They would have to do. Paying for the items quickly, almost laughing when the assistant dropped her credit card in his rush to help her, she took the proffered carrier bag and rushed back to serve her Master breakfast. She could only hope the meagre offerings she had bought would suffice.

Knocking at Matthew’s door for permission to enter, he immediately waved her inside. Taking the carrier bag from the tips of her fingers, he laid the contents on his desk.

‘Straddle the chair with your back to me.’

His voice sounded terse. Perhaps her little shopping trip had given him an appetite. One could only hope, thought Marianna wistfully. Doing as he asked, she waited in silence for his next instruction. None were forthcoming. Hearing the rustle of plastic on his desk, she guessed he was going to eat something first. Her thoughts were confirmed when she heard the sound of an apple being sliced in two. Her fingers tightened over the top of the chair back. She could feel the grain of the wood beneath her fingertips and absentmindedly smoothed her fingers along its surface in an effort to relieve her inactivity.

‘Itching to move so soon, Miss Morreau?’ When he murmured her surname, he used the French intonation, rolling the double r, and it sent a shiver right through her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered back. He began to peel her dress back up over her stockinged legs and as he reached the smooth, uncovered flesh of her upper thighs, he let his hands roam.

‘Lean forward and push your bottom out,’ he whispered in her ear.

Marianna obliged.

‘Beautiful. I see your dress has dried somewhat, pity.’ Mark’s hands bunched the fabric upward with the heels of his hand and revealed a pair of deliciously pink, naked buttocks. ‘Cold outside, was it?’

She was aware that he was amusing himself at her expense, but also horribly distracted as both his hands had begun to snake underneath her backside. He inserted them between her legs and used them to splay her apart. His tongue traced a path down the delicate dip in her ass cheeks, which quivered in response. ‘At least I won’t need to ask if you’re wet.’ Pressing something cold against her pussy, he began to slide it along her sex. She squawked and instantly tried to close her legs.

‘Uh, uh, uh. Naughty behaviour like that, is rewarded like this. He gave her rear end a firm swat with the flat of his hand. It stung his hand, so the chit had certainly felt it. At any rate, she seemed to take the lesson on board, keeping her body nice and still as he gradually pushed the item inside her. Using one finger to tease her clit, he burrowed the item deep into her flesh.

Marianna could hear the sounds of fingers being sucked and licked clean. What on earth was he up to? As his fingers once again pressed for entry at her core, she tried to concentrate on the shape of the object being inserted, but other than ascertaining the item was cold and slightly wet, she remained clueless. He repeated the process three times and then backed away from her. Desperately wanting to ask what the item was, but daring not to use her voice unless express permission had been granted, she held her silence. She used her vaginal walls to clamp tightly on the objects jammed inside her and was rewarded with a cold trickle of liquid, which streamed down her leg.

‘Hold them gently, Marianna. I don’t want to have to eat mush.’ A single hand began to prize her ass cheeks apart and with the other he wedged little slices of something, similarly cold, between her buttocks. Light began to dawn. If she wasn’t much mistaken, they were sturdy slices of apple which were being held in place by little more than the curve of her ass. That meant he’d squeezed either strawberries or pieces of banana inside her. It appeared she was going to be breakfast, along with the fruit.

Approaching the front of her sublimely stretched body, Mark smiled at the expression on her face. It was an interesting cross between apprehension and lust. When her eyes immediately searched for his hands, he knew she had figured his game plan out. He slowly peeled his banana in three long slices and pulled it from its nesting place.

‘Suck.’

Her slick lips opened on a moan. Using a gentle mouth, she drew the soft length inside her.

‘Not bad, Marianna, but you need to do better. Suck, my pretty little thing, suck.’ To give the girl her due, she did exactly that, although she managed to gag at the end of her efforts. It wouldn’t do her any harm. There was little more than quarter of the banana left outside the confines of her mouth and that was exactly how he liked it. ‘Don’t move.’

Marianna was hardly going to start running about the place with various soft and squishy pieces of fruit decorating nearly every orifice. Whilst the office staff wouldn’t be particularly shocked at seeing her run around naked, she might get a few stares with half an apple stuck into the crevice of her backside. Maintaining her position with as much precision as she could muster, and thinking that she really wouldn’t mind having half a banana for her breakfast, her carefully honed eardrums heard the sound of whittling. Matthews had his knife out again. What was he up to now? She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The first thing that he did on his return was place circles of fruit, which must have been either banana or strawberry along the ridges of her lower spine, at approximately 2 inch intervals. Then she felt something thick and sticky being poured over her back.

‘It’s honey. I like my fruit sweet and my submissives even sweeter.’ The statement was accompanied by a chuckle.

Marianna was glad someone was laughing. Honey was now being trickled down her ass cheeks and thick globs dripped to the chair below. Someone was going to have lots of fun clearing up this mess. Marianna could only be glad that the office toilets contained showers because she was certainly going to need one after this little episode.

‘And now for the piece de resistance’ Mark said, and there was a lilt to his voice that Marianna did not like. The next thing she knew, something was pressed against her sphincter. Oh God. The man was twisting what had to be a small cylindrical piece of apple into her rectum. The honey made his job considerably easier. He applied considerable pressure for a minute or two before the apple slotted soundly inside her. All conscious thought disappeared and she moaned in heat.

Mark stood back to admire his breakfast. She was fresh and hopefully ready to be plucked, bitten, sucked, chewed and swallowed. He intended to do each and every one of those actions on her body before he’d finished his meal. Smiling, as her ass squirmed at the intrusion of his carefully constructed ‘apple cork,’ he took two elastic bands out of his trouser pocket. They were of the small and thin variety. Squeezing a hand under the top of her dress, he pulled on her nipple and was rewarded with a groan of protest. Pinching the nub between his thumb and forefinger, he tugged at it gently. When the point had hardened in his fingers he began to wrap the elastic around it, over and over. He repeated the action on the other side.

When he had finished his ministrations, Marianna barely managed to stifle a sob. There was no question that the insistent throb of pain through her teats had taken her arousal to the next level. Breathing deeply she braced herself for what she felt sure was coming next: the riding crop. It was no secret that it was Matthew’s favourite instrument of torture.

Fingering the fine Italian leather of his crop and appreciating its flexibility, Mark inhaled deeply and savoured the heady aroma of lust, which mingled very nicely with the sugary sweetness of clover honey.

‘I’m going to eat you, Marianna. Every single inch of your flesh is going to be tasted, savoured and consumed by me. Does that arouse you?’

‘MmmMm,’ was the frenzied but vociferous reply. It was hard to articulate your actual feelings with most of a banana sinking deep into your vocal chords.

‘I thought it might. To make sure that you do not take your pleasure earlier than I would like, your nipples will be cropped if I feel that you are becoming overly excited. To demonstrate his point, he let the tip of his crop smack upon her left teat. Even though the fabric of her dress softened the blow, a gurgled moan ensued. ‘The longer those elastic bands are on your nipples and the more I crop them, the more painful it will be. It will encourage my ‘meal’ to stay still and be a good girl, won’t it?’

Marianna could only nod her head in reply.

With no further ado, Mark began his to devour his breakfast. He began by sucking the delicate slices of strawberry from the nodules along her lower spine, piece by sticky piece. His fingers drew patterns in the honey before his tongue lapped at the gooey mess. Obediently, she remained as still as a statue, although a hand on her ribcage revealed a heart that was beating far faster than it should have been. His honey-coated hands reached around to squeeze her breasts, over the fabric of her dress, and play with her nipples. Firm fingernails pinched them, eliciting sharp gasps from his victim. The elastic torment was performing well. When his clean-shaven face was liberally coated in fruit juice and goo, he moved around to the front of the chair and bent his head to capture her lips, biting off a sizeable chunk of banana in the process. After he’d swallowed, he glued his sticky lips to hers and threading his fingers deep inside the wavy tresses of her hair, he almost forced her to give up the whole of her banana by sucking a little too fiercely. Adjusting the pressure of his mouth, he let her feed him his treat, inch by slow inch. Had his mouth not been occupied, he might have raised a smile because the banana had not a dint imprinted upon its flesh. She was a careful one. While her tongue duelled his with emblazoned passion, she managed to retain firm control of her body. That would change. Sucking the last inch of nectar-sweet banana into his mouth, he bit it in two, ate his half and returned the other half back to her. A few calories certainly wouldn’t hurt her.

‘Swallow.’ Oh, and wasn’t that a word he loved? Plying her mouth with his once more, he waited until she opened beneath him before plunging two of his sugary digits inside. He stroked the smooth, liquid-silk of her tongue. ‘Clean them.’ There was little point, they were going to get a whole lot dirtier before long, but he had an urge to feel her tongue and lips working upon him. She didn’t hesitate. Sucking and tonguing him greedily, he let her repeat the process on each of his fingers.

Trying his hardest to put all thoughts of Jennifer Redcliff firmly behind him, he thought what a darling submissive Marianna would make. He could install her at his apartment, strip her permanently naked and have her serve him around the clock. She could sleep at the foot of his bed, she could scrub his back and she could suck him dry at regular intervals. For kicks, he could even give his housekeeper the day off and make her cook, with the threat of a good caning if her culinary skills weren’t up to scratch. He’d never brought a submissive back to his home and the idea was tempting. His thoughts, annoyingly, strayed straight back to Miss Redcliff. How glorious would she look, her eyes blazing with fury, as he began the long and arduous process of taming her? It would be a tough job, but someone would have to do it. Her snarly personality, her sharp wit, that beautiful face; they could all be trained to worship the very ground he walked upon. That one would enjoy taking pain for him as Marianna never would. It was a notion not even worth entertaining. Jennifer would not be for sale. Whatever her old man was up to, it wouldn’t bode well for him, of that he was sure. Cursing, he tried to refocus his thoughts. He decided Marianna’s backside was a sure fire way to capture his attention.

Poising a set of perfectly matched and even teeth around the apple cork, he crunched into it. His tongue began to circle the remaining piece of apple, which was still firmly embedded inside her. She’d have lots of fun trying to remove that later. He buried his nose into her ass cheeks and slowly picked up each slice of fruit that he had hidden there. They tasted divine. Her perfumed body lotion had mingled with the honey and combined, they were a heady aphrodisiac.

‘Sit.’ When she immediately went to seat herself from where she was standing, he corrected her mistaken assumption. ‘I want you facing me, legs spread so damn wide they shake at the effort and keep those hands behind your back.’

Movement was not easy when your body had squishy fruit stashed in its most secret of places, noted Marianna, but move she did. Obediently she laid herself back in the curved wood of the rocker and stretched her thighs until they threatened to break away from her body. She had heard from office gossip, that when Matthews issued a command, he meant what he said. If he’d asked for trembling legs, he would not be satisfied until he had witnessed the effect with his own eyes. Thankfully, it wasn’t going to be hard feat to accomplish. Her legs were already shaking, but not with the effort of opening them. His mere presence was enough to produce a minor earthquake within her body. When he bent his head and aimed for the last morsels of his breakfast, Marianna banged her head against the back of her chair and screamed. She could not take much more of this.

Mark was trying to find his strawberries. With his chin resting on the base of the chair, he suckled at the base of their hidden resting place. Deeply embedded within Marianna’s body, they did not give themselves up easily. The first one had to be cajoled out of her with some impressive suction and the aid of his tongue. Savouring the taste of one somewhat misshapen strawberry, coated profusely with the essence of female arousal, he took a moment to feast upon the delicacy, before employing the use of his fingers. Delving deep inside her, they widened into a ‘V’ shape and captured their prey. In between each strawberry, he let his mouth wander. He gave her a nip on the inside of her thigh with his teeth, a stroke of his tongue along her labia and a single pulse of his finger upon her clit. The woman was squirming with so much vigour you’d have thought her ass was on fire.

It was all Marianna could do, to keep her hands held behind the chair back. Like the rest of her body, they were shaking horribly. The instruction had been drummed into her during training. Hands behind you at all times, unless ordered otherwise. They were straining against the rigid hold she had set upon them, her fingers ready to lunge at his head and pull his face into her groin. She ached. Her whole body ached. Arching against him, groaning madly, she tried to show him exactly what she wanted, but every time her clit neared his mouth, he subtly moved away. He could not leave her like this a second time, could he? The man could not be that cruel. When her eyes connected with his, she saw humour reflected in their depths. He knew what she was thinking.

‘If you’re a good girl, Marianna, I’ll let you dance upon my chair. But you won’t come until I give you permission. Are we clear?’

‘Yes Sir,’ she hissed. He had nearly robbed her of the ability to speak.

‘Good, because I’ve only just started. If you get too close to the Promised Land, begged to be whipped.’ Those words robbed her of the ability to do just about anything.

Mark’s fingers toyed with her abraded nipples, as if to remind her of the delicate predicament she was in. Leaving the top half of her dress in place, the light rub of the material at each movement was a constant reminder of his threat. Burning up from within, she locked her hands more tightly around the chair, feeling a direct line forming between the teat he was tugging upon and her pussy. His fingers twisting the reams of elastic this way and that, offered both soothing relief and indescribable pain, in the form of unbearable arousal. Her body withstood the valiant attack on its left side, but the right was her undoing.

‘Please, whip me, Sir.’ She choked upon the words, sobbing them out.

His hands probed. His tongue licked. His fingers stroked. His body rubbed against hers.

She had to beg a further four times before relief was granted.

When she finally came, her body was incandescent with desire. So exhausted was she, in the aftermath, that her body slumped against the chair and she remained insensible to all around her for several minutes afterward.

Having watched Marianna nearly collapse with exhaustion, Mark cursed. She was not used to this type of exertion and he had used her too hard. She had probably been out for a run this morning with her personal trainer and after last night’s session combined with the fact that she looked like she hadn’t seen a decent meal in forever, she wasn’t going to be of much use to him. They’d have to work on that. He would issue strict instructions regarding her care this afternoon.

Looking at his watch, he cursed again. He was already late and there was no time to remedy this situation. She’d done little to stem his hunger for Miss Redcliff, quite the opposite in fact. He was now determined to have one particular and very spirited pony as his own, come hell or high water.

He’d have to yank a blonde into the car with him on the journey down and let her suck him off. He was not overly fond of blue balls and that needed to be taken care of before he shot off to Albrecht. The thought of in-car entertainment wasn’t as pleasing to him as it should have been. For the third time that morning he cursed. This time his venom was for Miss Redcliff alone.

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Christina Mandara was born in the UK, but has spent most of her life travelling the world. She speaks three languages and has been chiefly employed in the fields of finance and travel. She is currently training a herd of pony boys or is she stabled up, in full leather tack, with the pony girls. Find out more about Christina at http://christinamandara.wordpress.com.