Some music to set the mood...
~
The house had gone quiet. You perked your ears up to listen, but couldn't hear anything. For the umpteenth time you struggled against the restraints around your wrists and ankles. Christ, where did she learn to tie such a knot? The kitchen was dark except for the light over the island counter. You could hear the refrigerator hum. How long had she been gone for? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? What was she doing?
You were tied to a kitchen chair. Earlier in the evening, after work, you had driven up here to your vacation home. It was private. An eight bedroom home that sat secluded on a high bluff at the end of a long path. Lily would still be in the city, out with Skyler polishing off a bottle of wine or two, getting sloppy drunk per usual and bitching about you and Skyler's husband Todd.
You'd put that thought out of mind as you'd slipped into a warm bath with scented oils. You'd taken your time shaving your legs, your chest, and then moisturizing after. You'd slipped slowly into the navy blue empire dress with dark tan, seamed stockings you'd bought from Macy's, and navy blue suede heels. Yes, this was a weird habit. And no, no one -- not even Lily -- would suspect that this is how you relieved stress. No one would or could understand your secret desires. You couldn't help what felt good. You had made a fortune funding and advertising startup companies. You were the present CFO of one of the biggest startups in the city. You were allowed to indulge. But that didn't mean that you wouldn't be mortified if your golf buddies found out about this little hobby.
You heard the sound of high heels on hardwood floors. She walked in quietly wearing tall leather heels, a black high waisted pencil skirt, and a champagne colored silk blouse. Her platinum blonde hair was in a sharp asymmetrical bob. Your whole body trembled. Her big blue eyes seemed to swallow your very essence. In her hand was an old school polaroid camera. She snapped a picture of you. Smiled. Then took the photo the camera ejected and pinned it to the fridge with a magnet.
"Ms. Sawyer," you breathed. "Ashley ... look ... if you untie me I promise I won't tell anyone about this. Hell, I'll write you a letter of recommendation for your next employer if you like. C'mon now. Before this gets out of hand."
She dragged one of the kitchen chairs over and took a seat across from you. You glanced up as she casually lit a cigarette, and gently blew the smoke toward the ceiling. You watched as she crossed her legs at the knee and placed her hands on her lap. You inhaled the sweetly feminine scent of her perfume from where you're sitting. She reached into a white envelope that had been sitting on the island counter and held up a glossy 3x5 photo of a red haired woman. You cringed when you saw it.
"Did you write Emily Dupont a letter of recommendation?" she asks cooly. "Or once she was done sucking your dick you no longer had any use for her?" She held up another photo. "What about Sonia Carter? Did you write one for her after your stooge Kyle used her and threw her away like a tissue? Good luck on all future endeavors, right?"
You stopped struggling against your restraints. "Ashley ...," you tried again. "It's obvious you're very upset. Is it money you want? I can write you a check. Just name your price."
She exhaled a plume of smoke and casually held up another photo. "Did you write Karen Miller a check when she threatened legal action when your little boys club were passing around nudes of her that were stolen from her personal computer?"
You were losing control of the situation. How in the world did she know all this? This was Ashley Sawyer. Receptionist. Blonde. Friendly. A bit aloof at times. Not some ... some mastermind. You decided to try a different tact.
"My -- my wife is going to be up here soon," you said. "I -- I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea."
"What idea is that, sweetheart?" she replied. "That you look better in a dress than she does?" She slipped another photo out of the folder and when your eyes fell on it your blood turned cold. "Besides, it looks like she's a bit busy getting her brains fucked out by her friend Skyler's husband Todd tonight. I don't think she's thinking about you at all."
You're anger was boiling over now. You're hurt. Embarrassed.
"Let me go you cunt!" you barked.
But she didn't match your anger. Instead she made a little clicking noise with her tongue and walked over to you. She placed a hand against your cheek. You can smell her perfume mixed with the cigarette. She brought her face close to yours -- so close you could feel her warm breath on you.
"It's not that simple," she said. "I sent an email from your personal computer that informs the office you're taking a two week hiatus."
"What?" you frowned. "Why?"
She smiled. "Because up here, Mr. Thatcher, we're going to be making some beautiful music together."
Thank you SO much for reading if you made it all the way through. I hoped to write something that would catch your attention, and give you an idea of how I write. I also hope that I was somewhat subtle in the type of story that this will be. Please no Alpha Doms. This is not the story for you. I promise. I think men feel pressure everyday to be a “MAN,” always in control. A lot of guys feel better giving up their power to a woman, even if it is only for a short time. Some people just don’t get what I do, and that is fine.
I wanted to write a really fun and engaging opening scene to hopefully attract the right type of partner. My only request is that you be a serious writer and be willing to add value and not take away. Google is my writing home. I prefer to chat and build stories there. I'd love to turn this into something great. :)
I'd love to hear from you if you're interested!
+Ashley+
Submitted January 31, 2016 at 07:27AM by hollywoodcensored http://ift.tt/1KOjSLI dirtypenpals
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