Bethany – Chapter One: Meet Cute? Meet Duke. - Sex Stories

Bethany – Chapter One: Meet Cute? Meet Duke.

... red bloom spread under the dishes as the world started to spin. Looking up, she saw Michael smile, watching as she struggled to speak. The garbled words slipped from her lips as the spinning got worse. Then everything went black.

Bethany awoke with a pounding behind her eyes. Her tongue felt swollen and dry, but as she tried to move it and swallow, she found that her jaw was stuck open. As she attempted to blink, she saw that she was in a dimly lit lounge, with several plush couches and chairs. Bethany tried to move, but found that she was restrained, her arms pulled down in front of her, the now warm metal of a pair of handcuffs between her hands and a bar beneath her. She could feel a solid, cushioned form beneath her. Moving her head, she looked down to see that it was a matching ottoman to the couches in the room, yet had a slender rod affixed to it. Apparently for a purpose other than resting feet upon.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Michael walked into the room and stood before her, “I wasn’t expecting you to pass out that quickly, you did miss a rather remarkable dinner.” The shy, stuttering façade was gone. He sat down on the nearest couch and crossed one ankle over his knee. Bethany tried to speak, but only incoherent sounds came out. Michael merely laughed.

“Don’t strain yourself! The gag will come off once I know you’re not going to bite,” he smiled and folded his hands over his legs, “You see, I was not fully honest with you when I told you I worked in ...

... corporate acquisitions when we spoke the other day,” he grinned wolfishly, “I work for wealthy people who want to acquire, for lack of better words, more obedient relationships, with their employees.” He stopped talking and just stared expectantly at Bethany. It took her several minutes to register that. Mr. O’Toole? Her sleazy, nasty boss had hired him? She began to struggle, trying to get up, but her legs were lashed to the footstool even more firmly that her hands were. Her hands, she could move slightly, but her legs would not budge. She was bent over the ottoman on all fours, her knees starting to protest despite the soft carpet beneath her.

“Ah, that took you longer than most,” Michael uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, “We didn’t meet by accident, I went looking for you. Duke, of course, is always the best at luring people into my little snare. Though you were certainly the easiest by far.” He sneered at her, moving from the couch to grab her hair and pull her face up to look at him, “You are just as shallow as O’Toole expected.” He let go of her head, allowing it to drop, and stood. Bethany just hung there, all her little aspirations of finding a wealthy boyfriend, gone. A rustle of clothes caused her to look up. Michael was moving towards her, a pair of safety scissors in hand.

“I suppose you wore this little outfit in hopes of enticing me,” he mused, snipping up the back of her skirt “which means I should be thanking you, it’s less material to cut away.” As the ...