Dream a Little Dream With Me
When she woke that morning, Nicole remembered her entire dream of the night before in great detail. This was strange; she nearly never remembered her dreams at all, much less details like tactile sensations. Today she could remember the scratchy feeling of the ropes she’d dreamed going around her legs, the strain on her hips, inner thighs and shoulders. And her nipples still hurt.
You’re kind of a stupid slut.
While she showered, her mind kept drifting back to the dream. Thinking back on it made her wonder why she’d had the dream at all. She’d never had even the slightest interest in bondage. She knew what it was, of course, but if she thought about it (she almost never did), she considered it kind of weird and creepy. So why the dream she’d had? And why the furious, almost frantic, masturbation session afterward?
She decided, just about the time she was done with her shower, that it must have been weird combination of hormones and stress, and that she would just put it out of her mind now ... and go out and get laid as soon as she was done with that research project at work.
She stepped out of the shower and over to the sink and its wide mirror, and took a long look at herself. She had to smile at what she saw.
You’ve got a nice body, though.
That part of her dream, anyway, she was forced to agree with. She was a pretty woman and she knew it, with a runner’s body, slender, toned and flexible. She didn’t have the biggest breasts in the world, she knew, just a pair or nice handfuls, but her slender frame made them seem larger than they actually were. Anyway, she’d had no complaints.
Her nipples and areolas seemed a little swollen. Jesus, I must’ve twisted the hell out of them last night, she thought, touching them, really just lightly running the tips of her fingers over them. Yeah, they ached, a lot. But in a good way; the nipples stood at attention as soon as she touched them.
She watched herself as she ran a towel over her skin, watching the muscles beneath it work before using the towel on her short, blond hair, cut in an attractive but professional bob. Her skin was pale but took a light tan easily, and her caramel-colored eyes often made people think her hair color came out of a bottle. It was all her, though. She smiled again as she picked up the blow dryer.
A slut’s body is her best asset.
She gave herself a slight frown at that. Where the hell had that come from? She knew it was from her dream, but why would it just pop into her head like that, and now? It had to be the single most repellent, misogynistic thought that had ever entered her head.
But ... well, she supposed a slut’s primary asset would be her body. It had nothing to do with her, of course, but it only made sense. She shrugged to herself, stopped worrying about why it had popped into her head now that she’d determined its truth, and walked out to her bedroom to dress for work.
Nicole clenched her teeth as she stared at the report in front of her. She didn’t understand; yesterday she’d thought the report was going well. She might have been having a little trouble organizing all her information and condensing it into a brief but informative format, but she’d only quit for the night because she was tired. Today she’d been working on the thing since she’d arrived in her office ... well, cubicle ... and she just couldn’t get the numbers to make any sense. Brow furrowed in concentration, she tried one more time.
You’re kind of a stupid slut.
That was the problem. Every time she thought she was making any kind of headway, that voice—that almost-recognizable voice—from her dream the night before broke her concentration and wrecked the train of thought she’d been working on. Lately it had started sounding like her own voice, or at least the one she always heard in her thoughts.
She couldn’t deny it ... she needed help. She’d only had three days left to finish the report when she got to work that morning, and she’d wasted half the day now. But where could she get the help she needed without losing all the credit for her work?
Her gaze wandered around the office, evaluating all the coworkers in her sight ... all the selfish and self-absorbed coworkers who’d steal her thunder in a heartbeat, if they could manage it. No, she couldn’t see herself asking a single one of them for help; it would be tantamount to giving her research away. Then her eyes fell on the door to Evan Chasseur’s office, and she smiled for the first time all morning.
If Nicole was a young executive on her way up, then Evan was a middle-aged exec on his way down ... or at least on his way nowhere. He’d been the head of Corporate Acquisitions once, but had been shunted off into Personnel years ago, and gone nowhere since. In fact, he’d been the one who had interviewed her for her job, just a little under a year ago. He’d be perfect. He had the experience for the job but no longer had anything to do with acquisitions; he might even be willing to help her pour le sport, and if he wasn’t, she’d flash some cleavage and smile at him a little and he’d be putty in her hands.
A slut’s body is her best asset.
She went to his office when she broke for lunch, first undoing the top couple of buttons on her blouse—thank God she’d worn a push-up bra today. She knocked on his doorframe, smiled at him and said, “Hi, Evan. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Chasseur was a tall, thin man with a full head of graying red hair, though his hairline was maybe starting to recede a bit. Cold, intensely blue eyes stared at her through his reading glasses for just a moment before he smiled at her. He glanced at his watch, just barely looking at it, before answering her.
“Sure, Nicole, come on in.”
She entered the office, closing the door behind her ... the last thing she wanted was for somebody in the office to hear that she’d needed help with this acquisition. She smiled at him as she closed the door, but when she looked at the cold, cold eyes behind his glasses, she lost all her self-confidence and found herself nearly stuttering at him.
“I, ah ... I could use a hand with the Andersen Shipyards report,” she said quietly, then looked quickly at the floor, avoiding his eyes and finishing with a mumbled, “if you don’t mind.” What the hell was the matter with her today, she wondered.
Chasseur’s smile disappeared, replaced by a thoughtful look. He scratched his chin for a moment, then rose from behind his desk. “I suppose I could help you with that,” he said, his smile back in place, “but that’s a big job. It’s going to cost you.”
He had approached to within an arm’s length of her, looking at her intently. Nicole dropped her eyes almost instinctively. This angered and shamed her, and she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes with hers. “W—what do you mean?” she asked, her stomach tightening, jumping nervously under his gaze, and she dropped her eyes again.
“What I mean,” he said, his voice smooth and even, “is exactly what I said. That’s a big job, especially if you need help with it at this late date. And you obviously don’t want to share credit for it, do you? So I’m going to want a little something in return.” With that, he reached out and very deliberately took hold of her breasts, first squeezing them and then rolling her still-sore nipples between his thumbs and fingers.
For a moment Nicole just stood there, first unable to understand and then simply unable to believe what was going on. When she finally realized that yes, the man who’d interviewed her for this job was standing there bold as brass and manhandling her teats, a bright, hot flash of anger filled her, heating her face and chest, and chilling her belly. She started to pull away from him, ready to slap him and storm out of his office, but ...
You’re kind of a stupid slut, aren’t you?
But a flash of panic literally froze her in place. She needed this man’s help.
You’ve got a nice body.
She needed to do this financial report, and she needed help, and Chasseur was the only one who could help her.
“I ... I ...”
A slut’s body is her best asset.
She needed his help. She was ... she swallowed as the thought came to her ... too stupid to do this on her own. But she had her body to trade, and he certainly seemed to want it.
He had kept on squeezing her teats. It was degrading; her face burned at the very thought of allowing him to continue, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She needed his help. Her nipples were sore again, and that wasn’t the only effect he was having on her. The tension in her belly had gone from cold to very, very warm. She was growing excited. Wet, even.
“Make up your mind, Rhodes. I haven’t got all day.”
What you have to learn is obedience.
She had no choice. The thought of ... of prostituting herself like this ... made her sick, but she had ...
... to learn obedience.
... to agree so Chasseur would help her. He continued to grope her, making it increasingly harder to think. But what thinking, really, did she have to do? She needed his help. This was his price.
“I ... O—okay, Evan,” she whispered, skin burning, gut clenching.
“Good girl,” he chuckled, raising his right hand from her teat to first pat her cheek, then run his thumb over her lips. Nicole bristled in anger again—she was not a girl, or someone he could pet like a dog. But she clamped down hard on her anger and forced a smile to her lips; she needed his help, and she was suddenly terrified that he’d seen some sign of her anger and would refuse her, just when she’d gotten him to agree.
He dropped his hand from her face and then turned and walked back towards his desk. Once he had turned away from her, she raised her gaze to look at his retreating form. When he sat down and turned to face her, however, she dropped her eyes again. She didn’t know why she was acting this way; it confused her and she didn’t like it at all, but she just didn’t feel right meeting his gaze. It was far easier to drop her eyes when he looked her way right now ... probably it had something to do with the degrading way he’d treated her.
“I think, however, that you should call me Mister Chasseur for the time being. It will help set the tone for our new ... relationship.”
“M—mister Chasseur?” Why did she keep stammering like that? And why couldn’t she look him in the eye? She’d never been shy, never had this kind of reaction before.
“Or sir,” he smiled at her. “Now, why don’t you come on over here and give me a quick, getting-to-know-you blowjob? We’ll call it an icebreaker.”
What you have to learn is obedience. Without obedience, even the stupidest slut’s body is worthless.
“Yes ... sir,” she mumbled, and began crossing the office floor to him.
He must have heard the hesitation in her voice, she thought later. Or there was something he didn’t like about the way she’d waited to agree to his demands, or the way she walked to him. But she hadn’t taken two steps toward him before he suddenly ordered, his voice hard and commanding, “On your hands and knees.”
She dropped to her knees and crawled across his office floor to him.
She blushed furiously as she crawled, just hoping he ... Mister Chasseur ... couldn’t see her face. The worst thing, though, was crawling, debasing herself at his orders. And it seemed ... appropriate, which made her face burn even hotter, but she couldn’t get around the fact that she was whoring herself because she couldn’t manage to get her own work done. Approaching on her hands and knees felt ... right.
Nicole saw Chasseur’s loafer-clad feet enter her field of vision. Make this good, she thought, A slut’s body is her best asset. She forced a smile to her lips as she knelt before him, and then, hesitating only a moment, ran the palms of her hands up his woolen slacks, from his knees, caressing his inner thighs, to his crotch.
He was big—she could tell that even through the slacks. Only semi-erect, his prick more than filled her hand. Nicole swallowed hard ... she didn’t really like giving head, but felt that she was committed now. She ran her hand slowly up his zipper, then took it in her fingers and opened his fly. He lifted his hips, and she, trembling just a little, opened his belt and then his trousers, pulling them down his thighs.
His erection was making a good-sized tent in his boxers as she carefully pulled them down. When it sprang free, it seemed to point directly at her, and continued to do so as he sat once again. Nicole gave a hard, almost painful swallow, and crawled between his knees. She tickled his balls with the fingertips of her right hand, wrapping her left around the base of his cock, then let her lips part and delicately wrapped them around his cock head. She let her tongue caress him, tasting a bit of salty pre-cum.
The taste made her want to gag, which actually encouraged her to take more of him in her mouth in order to get the taste of the head away from the tip of her tongue. She forced herself to take him until her lips touched her index finger and thumb, working the underside of his cock with her tongue. By the time her lips touched her hand, his prick was pressing the back of her throat, nearly making her gag.
Why are you doing this? part of her asked. This is disgusting. What are you doing?
You have to, answered another part of her, the part that sounded most like the voice in her dream. You need his help, and this is what he wants. You need to learn obedience.
Chasseur slapped her forearm. “I told you I wanted a blowjob, not a hand job,” he growled, “Cross your wrists behind your back.”
You need to learn obedience.
She really didn’t even think this time before doing as he’d asked—no, as he’d ordered her to do. When she realized this it shamed and angered her, but she left her hands where they were, crossed behind her back. She risked an angry glance up at his face, though, while she sucked him, using her lips and tongue to pleasure him, hoping he would come quickly so she could get this demeaning task over with.
He chuckled down at her angry glare. “That’s right,” he said, putting his hands on her head, running his fingers through her hair, “You keep your eyes on me while I’m fucking your face.”
Nicole glared up at him again. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to get up, kick him in the crotch, and storm out of his office. He was a disgusting pig, and deserved that or worse. But ...
But you need his help.
You need to learn obedience.
She kept her eyes on his and pulled back a little, returning her attention to his cockhead, hoping that some direct stimulation there would speed things up, make him come so she could get out of his office. Unfortunately, Chasseur seemed to have different ideas.
He took hold of her hair and began guiding, then forcing, her to take more and more of him into her mouth. When she’d held him at the root with her hand, the tip of his prick had pressed against the soft palate at the back of her throat. Now he was forcing himself even further inside her, and she started to gag and choke. Beginning to panic, she tried to pull away from him, but he was having none of that. He grabbed her hair down close to the roots and began sawing in and out of her mouth, forcing his prick deeper and deeper down her throat with every thrust. She was starting to feel like she was going to puke on his dick when he said, “You’re gonna have to learn to deep-throat me if this new working relationship’s gonna go anywhere. Take it all, slut. Swallow.”
Suddenly she was back in her dream of the night before, but this time it was truly a nightmare. She could still feel Chasseur’s penis choking her, but all she could see was the complete darkness of the dream, and all she could hear was the voice, the almost-familiar voice that had been whispering in her head all day long. Now, though, it was like hearing a cathedral bell from the inside. She couldn’t even hear her own thoughts over its clangor.
You’re kind of a stupid slut. You’ve got a nice body. What you need to learn is obedience. You’re a stupid slut. Nice body. You need to learn obedience. Stupid slut. Learn obedience. Nice body. Learn obedience. Stupid slut. Obedience ...
It seemed to last forever. It certainly lasted until she’d forgotten everything in the world, past or present, save the stifling darkness, Evan’s cock choking the life out of her, and the impossible, chaotic clamor of the words ringing through her head. But it did end, eventually. First the voice in her head faded, not into silence but into a kind of subliminal background noise that she realized, now, she’d been hearing all day. Then she could see again. Evan was still choke-fucking her, but now she was swallowing every thrust. It hurt—her throat felt raw and bruised, and her nose spent quite a lot of time buried in his pubic hair. She still felt like she might puke, but that was now only a possibility, not a certainty. And for a wonder, her wrists were still crossed at the small of her back.
It didn’t take much longer for Chasseur to come. He pulled out when he did so, enough for his sputum to land on her tongue. Nicole swallowed automatically. She knew that would be what he wanted, and the couple of ounces of salty, slimy goo weren’t all that bad, certainly not compared with what he’d just been forcing down her throat.
And reentering her nightmare while awake had frightened her. She wasn’t sure what had happened there, but she wasn’t about to risk a repeat of the episode by failing to do something she knew he’d want, orders or no. She swallowed and attempted a smile, her tear-streaked face a complete mess.
Evan reached down and grabbed her boobs again, giving them a good squeeze. “Take a couple of tissues and clean yourself up a little before you go back out there,” he told her, “and be at my place for seven tonight. We’ll see what I can do with your little project.”
“Y—yes, Mister Chasseur.”
She took the tissues gratefully. Luckily she didn’t wear much makeup to the office, but what she did wear was going to have to be completely redone. After cleaning herself up a bit, she turned and headed for the door, intending to go first to the ladies’ room.
“Oh,” he said just as she touched the doorknob, “When you show up tonight, wear something sexy. You might even want to invest in some new lingerie ... something that’ll show off your ass, and those nipples.”