It had been an exquisite dinner. They had talked business, which was not unusual, but then he asked her to come back to his apartment, which was. She had worked for him for several years, and was now the top salesperson in the office, and beautiful as well, but their relationship had never been personal; he didn't date his employees, never even mentioned his personal life.

She might have been receptive to his interest when they first met - he was not unattractive - but their relationship had been strictly business so long that she had stopped thinking of him as a man at all. He was the boss. All in all, he was a good one. Yes, he could be petty and sometimes irrationally demanding, but he was generous and left people pretty much alone if they produced.

She was too smart to ever be anything but deferential to him, but she thought she was smarter than he was. She, after all, had not had a head start in life.

What could it mean, his inviting her back? Of course, she went, curious and slightly excited. She had no intention of getting romantically involved with him - the job was going too well to risk that - and she quickly worked out possible ways to say no and still flatter him. They settled down with their drinks, while she complimented the decor. He didn't respond, although she was long used to men not really caring about such things. At least he had had the class to get his place decorated, unlike men she had dated who had plenty of money and nothing on their walls.

Finally the silence became uncomfortable, which was what he had been waiting for. "You're wondering why I asked you back, and what to do if I make a pass at you. I won't. We are not here to discuss romance. Instead, we will talk about your embezzlement."

The pate and sole suddenly felt like lead in her stomach. For a moment she thought she would be violently sick. It passed, but her heart still pounded. Stay calm, she thought, and she started to speak.

"Please don't bother with tiresome denials," he said, throwing an inch- thick folder on the coffee table in front of her, "this is the proof, prepared by the accountants. You have been stealing about $4,000 a month, mostly through phony expense vouchers, but occasionally by approving invoices payable to a non-existent supplier, whose funds flow through a few accounts before ending up as Deutschmark travelers checks, which you cash. The checks have all been traced, and we have photo-copies of the bank records. You've been doing this for four years, and have taken about $200,000 - that we know of. The true total is no doubt higher. The lawyers call it grand larceny - five to ten, three years minimum time to be served. Of course, that doesn't include tax evasion, bribery, and what not, which should add another few years.

"You are known for living well; I don't imagine that the money is sitting in an account waiting to be given back. The bonding company will cover most of my loss, but they're not known for being forgiving. You will never work again, except perhaps flipping burgers. And I hear that rich, beautiful white women don't have such a good time in jail." He sat back and stared at her, smiling slightly. It was her turn to speak, but although her mind was racing, her mouth wouldn't work.

"Good," he said "we can dispense with a lot of futile back and forth. Your life, as you know it, is over. But, in appreciation of your long, productive service to me, and for some other reasons, I'm going to give you a choice. You can throw yourself on the mercy of the court, or on mine. If you don't want to go to jail you can become my slave - an old fashioned word, but it will do. To keep up appearances you will continue in your job. You'll still get your salary, and you'll even continue to steal the same amount, just in case you ever think about ending our relationship. But you will be a thing, owned by me. Every hour outside the office you will be mine. I shall use you for my pleasure. Totally. No exceptions, no limits."

Thank God, she thought, he wants sex - I can handle that. I can't handle jail. All right, let's negotiate. First step: stall. She cleared her throat. "This is too sudden. I'm too upset to say anything. I'll talk to my lawyer and call you in the morning."

"No."

"No? but-"

"No. I'm not playing games with you. You will decide right now, and you will speak to no one. You don't have to say anything. Feel free to get up and leave my apartment, and this folder goes to the D.A. Go ahead and claim blackmail; tell them about my offer, and they'll laugh themselves silly."

Her mind was racing. "And the alternative?"

"Surrender, pure and simple. You will agree to obey me absolutely, to be a thing, not even a pet. I'm not talking about the occasional blow-job, or a few weekends in Bermuda. You will move in here, to serve me. I will use and misuse you, as I please. You will be naked at all times, and always available to me. You will see no one else. Your function in life will be simply to please me. You will do exactly as you are told, or you will be punished."

She flared. "This isn't funny. You're disgusting."

"Yes, and cruel, and a lot of other unpleasant things. Life with me will be hell." He smiled. "All in all, jail is probably the better choice."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, very much enjoying it. Why do you think I've let you go on stealing for so long? Did you really think you fooled me? You're not even in my league. I have planned this moment for a long time, but I had to wait until you stole enough to put you away for a good long time.

And now you're caught. Either leave now, or take off your clothes, and we shall begin."

"I've got to think. I can't deci-"

"Now."

"Please." She saw not a flicker of compassion in his eyes. She had really lost. He wasn't kidding. Tears started to well up. "Please, don't do this to me. I'll make it up to you. I'll give you all I've got stashed away, and the car, and the condo. I'll work for nothing and bring in twice the business. You know I can do it. In a year you'll have it all back with interest. Anything, but don't destroy me. I can't go to jail and I can't do what you want. I'll spend every weekend with you, I'll be good to you. But I can't move in and be what you said."

"Say it."

"I can't."

"Say it - my slave. Or leave."

"Please, no. Please!" A pause. Tears. No response.

"Now. Or get out and take your chances."

Things were moving much too quickly. She desperately needed time to think. She started to get down on her knees, whether to surrender or to beg him even she wasn't sure. He stopped her and jerked her upright, his face an inch from hers. "Look me in the eyes and say: 'I am your slave, do whatever you want with me.'"

She did, and sobbed violently.

He let her cry until she stopped, but he did not let her move. Finally she raised her eyes to his. She was caught, and she knew it. There was nothing to do but try to survive and hope things would change. Maybe he just wanted to fuck her. Maybe he would get bored with thi game.

Maybe all he wanted was to humiliate her tonight. Of course, maybe not. If he forced her to keep stealing, she knew he could get rid of her at any time, so she could suffer all this degradation and humiliation and still go to jail. Hopeless. Nothing to do but try to keep him pleased.

Surrender.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Take off all your clothes." She had known that this was coming, but that did not make it easier. She undressed slowly, hoping at each stage that he would stop her and say enough, that she'd learned her lesson.

Finally, after removing her panties last, she stood before him, head bowed. "Remove all your jewelry also." She did, and felt really naked.

For a long time, he just looked. He stood close to her, too close, and sniffed. "You are wearing perfume and deodorant. You are never to wear either in my presence again. You will never bathe without my permission. Put your hands up over your head." She did, and he lightly ran his hands over her arms, her armpits and her breasts. She shuddered at his touch; she could have been an animal, a piece of meat, a stone. His touch was not meant to arouse, but to possess. He ordered her to stop shaving her armpits, which embarrassed her. His hands wandered over her until they came to her crotch. "Spread your legs," he said. "You will never again close them completely in my presence. Neither will you close your mouth, or a door between us. You will always be available to me." There was something familiar about all this, she thought, and then dimly remembered The Story of O, which she and her roommates had giggled over in college. So that's what we're playing, she thought, and for a moment felt better, as she had a framework for the experience. But remembering the rest of the story made her feel more afraid, not less.

With one hand he grasped the back of her neck, bending her head slightly forward. She started to get down on her knees, thinking that that was what he wanted, but he stopped her ad held her around the neck like a dog on a collar. She spread her legs as ordered, and he roughly explored the outside of her cunt, pulling, grasping, spreading. The fear, humiliation, and stimulation combined, and she felt like screaming and running away, but she forced herself to stand still.

Suddenly, his middle finger thrust inside her, and she couldn't help but cry out. Her cunt began to moisten, adding to her shame. He thrust his finger in to the hilt, twisting and pushing up on her pubic bone, and again she felt fear. He wasn't trying to hurt her, he just didn't care how she felt.

His finger still inside her, he looked her in the face. She couldn't bear to look at him.

Withdrawing his finger, he ordered her to turn around. He slapped the inside of her thigh to make her part her legs. It was obvious he would soon explore her ass, which she never let her lovers do; it was a feeling she couldn't stand. She brought her hands over her face, as if to hide herself. He slapped her on the ass, hard, and she instantly brought her hands down. She obeyed his command to bend over and spread her cheeks. She had never felt so exposed, vulnerable, and humiliated in her life.

He ordered her to remain in that position and left the room. She heard sounds of drawers opening and closing, and had to fight back her curiosity to stand up and see. She remained in the shameful stance, and when he came back in the room he put several things on the coffee table, although she could not see what. He ran his hands over her, and patted her like a dog, saying "Very good. I have waited a long time for this." He crouched down so that he was face to face with her, and raised her head by the hair. He smiled. "I'm going to enjoy this. You will stay absolutely still, no matter what I do."

He touched her face, at first with gentle strokes, and then he stuck his middle finger in her mouth, feeling all around. She felt like spitting him out, but dared not. She endured it. After he withdrew his finger, he pressed her face into his crotch, and she smelled his smell through the clothes.

She hoped he would unzip; all men liked being sucked, maybe that was what he really wanted and the nightmare would end. But he did not unzip. He moved behind her.

She heard sounds she could not identify, but the next moment made them clear. The cold, greasy lubricant was spread over her exposed asshole, causing her to shudder. Her legs were beginning to hurt at the unnatural position; she badly wanted to move. In as submissive a voice as she could manage, she said, "Please . . ." but got no further as he smacked her ass hard, almost causing her to lose her balance. He steadied her, and resumed touching her asshole, now going quickly in and out to the depth of his first knuckle. It was a strange feeling, and she hated herself for enjoying it even a little. Slowly he drove his finger to the hilt, and then moved all around, and part-ways in and out.

She gasped, more in surprise than in pain. The feeling was strange but not wholly unpleasant. In spite of herself, she moaned, and her knees buckled slightly. Her body desperately wanted the release of movement. The in and out continued. Sometimes he put another finger into her mouth or cunt.

When he had finished playing with her, he told her to stand up. It felt good to stretch, but she was tired and sore. She tried to separate her mind from her body as he touched her. Things started to look a little brighter. After all, he wasn't a crazy person; she had known him for years. Sure, she'd been stealing, but what the hell; the whole business was stealing. He had to know she would pay him back, and not let her whole life go down the drain. He had made her suffer - humiliated her and scared her worse than she had ever been - but what the hell, he deserved some revenge. And in a weird sort of way, it wasn't really so bad; it was like living out the most forbidden fantasy, the sexiest, hottest thing she had ever done. But she had had enough. She hoped she could fuck or suck him now - surely that was where all this was leading - and get it over with. All right, she thought, here comes the best blowjob you ever had. She reached down to unzip him.

In less than a second she was crying out in pain as he twisted her wrist, forcing her down on her knees. With his other had he grabbed her hair and pushed her head back. He brought his face so close to her that she could smell his breath, and the wind from his voice buffetted her as he yelled. "What's the matter with you? Do you think this is some fucking game, some bedroom joke? You think I waited all this time for a blowjob? You are my slave. You were told to do nothing without orders."

As her heart pounded, she shut her eyes, expecting a blow. He did not loosen his hold, but after a few seconds silence, his voice lowered.

"And, you were told that you would be punished for disobedience." He jerked her to her feet, without letting go.

"Stop it, please," she said, bursting into tears and close to hysteria, "I can't take anymore. What do you want? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"I've got what I want. You. As my slave. If you don't like the rules, leave. Walk right out the door. All you'll have of tonight is a story no one will believe. And tomorrow, turn yourself in to the Attorney General. Good luck. Going?" He let go of her and sat down on the couch.

He let her cry until she stopped. She said nothing. What was there to say? Caught.

"Now," he said, "As this is your first offense, the punishment will be a mild one - a spanking. If you submit yourself for punishment by lying over my knees, and do not squirm or scream, I will go easier on you. You may cry - that is permitted - but only that. If I have to hold you down, it will go worse for you. Now, lie down."

She did. She anticipated the slap on her ass, but the pain and the sharp "thwack" shocked her. She had been spanked by her father as a child, but remembered only shame, as he had not really meant to hurt her. But this was different - the stinging pain was real. She could not help but squirm, but one of his hands held her body down while the other yanked her head by the hair until she faced him. His eyes were icy angry. Even without a single word, the message was clear.

Whimpering, she relaxed her body and lay limp and submissive over his knees. The spanking resumed, slap after slap, her ass getting hotter and hotter. Sometimes the spanking was rhythmic, sometimes he broke the pattern, so that she would never know when a slap was coming. He would begin slowly and then increase the tempo so that, against her will, her excitement would build. But just as the excitement (and pain) were becoming unendurable he would stop, as if to tease her. He would then run his hands over her ass, or stick his fingers into her. It was harder to stay still then than when he hit her. But always, the spanking resumed.

After some long, rhythmic spanking she felt the hotness spread from her ass until it seemed her whole body was burning. She felt her cunt grow moist; to her shame and alarm, she realized that she was getting turned on. She became nothing but her experience. Laying perfectly still, being completely submissive, which had been so hard at first, became easy. She could do nothing else but wait for his next slap. She began to moan with each slap. Her ass throbbed.

Suddenly he stood her up and faced her. Cupping his fingers, he ran them through her cunt and pubic hair, picking up drops of her wetness. He put his moist fingers under her nose, and ordered her to smell and lick them, which embarrassed her. She hoped he would want to fuck now, not just because it would end the ordeal - she had put hope out of her mind - but because she was turned on and wanted it.

"You have taken your punishment very well," he said, "and now I have a small reward for you. I am going to fuck you, and you may choose which hole..." - he touched her mouth, her cunt, and her asshole consecutively - "I use. You will learn to treasure such a rare opportunity to choose."

It was the first she had spoken in a long time. In a way, it was more humiliating to have to choose that to just submit, but she knew that she had better answer. "Please, my vagina." She was unprepared for the slap, and confused by it. What did she do wrong? He stared at her but said nothing. Thinking quickly, she said "Please, my cunt." Another slap, but not as hard. "Please fuck my cunt." He raised his hand to slap her, but she quickly said "Sir." He smiled and waited. "Please fuck my cunt Sir" she repeated. He put his hand under her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. "Please fuck my cunt Sir" she begged softly.

And he did.