A Hard Business Lesson

A HARD BUSINESS LESSON

Dutch Mark

Copyright 2025 by Dutch Mark

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means ֠electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise, ֠without prior permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental, and for which the author and the publisher shall not be held responsible. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Printed in the United States of America

Adult Content Warning

Please be advised that this is a very adult story, and is not intended for purchase or reading for any person under the legal age for such purchase and reading within their own country. There are many unusual sexual situations and graphic descriptions of sexual acts between men and women contained in this story, including many elements of BDSM. The story is intended solely for the enjoyment of individuals who enjoy reading about such activities, and is not meant to be advocating such activities nor instructing the reader in any way. If such acts and language offend you, please do not purchase this book.

Other books by Dutch Mark

Weatherby’s Boarding School for Young Women

Chapter One

She was nearly as tall as me, at least five feet nine. She was amazingly proportioned, maybe 39-23-36. She had natural blonde hair, medium-blue eyes that flared to emerald when she was angry or intense, and the softest skin of alabaster whites and pale pinks. Her looks could almost make you forget the steel set to her delicate looking jaw. She had full, luscious lips that were usually compressed into a hard line, and an aquiline nose from which piercing eyes stared down at people. She also had a no-nonsense stride to those long, firmly-muscled legs that made you believe she could squeeze you to death between them easier than a pair of pythons wrapped around a squealing pig. Her name was Erika Teufel, and she was a Type A, workaholic, money-is-everything bitch. She was also my boss.

My name is Jon. I'm no pretty-boy, but fairly attractive to those who like 'rugged' good looks. My hair is dark and curly, eyes a soft brown, and glasses that accentuate my intelligence. My main claim to pride is my body, which is a shade under six feet tall. I do a lot to it – mountain biking, skiing, tennis, karate, weights, jogging, and more – and I keep it in great shape, hard and lean.

I'm an investment counselor – really just a glorified stock broker – with a degree in economics and a master's in finance. Being a broker wasn't what I had  originally wanted, but I needed the job. Maybe some day I could realize my dream of being CFO of a major corporation, but for today I needed to pay my rent and have something to eat.

Ms. Teufel had taken over her father's small brokerage firm when she was twenty-four, and in seven years had more than quadrupled its size. We now had a few clients with investment portfolios of more than a hundred thousand dollars, although most had under fifty grand to invest. Ms. Teufel wanted to be the Charlene Schwab of the industry, with a string of offices across the country doing a huge volume on fairly low margins. I was sure she'd make it someday.

When my phone buzzed, I was not terribly surprised to hear Fawn's voice. Fawn Flowers (yes, I know it sounds strange) is Ms. Teufel's secretary, and she is literally the girl of my dreams. She’s the picture-perfect image of a lovely Latina. Hardly a night went by without me dreaming of her small, delicate frame, her long dark hair swirling around exotic, dusky features, her disproportionately large breasts standing out sharply above her tiny waist and perfectly shaped legs, and constant soft smile always enhancing her sweet face.

"Mr. Thomas," Fawn's soft, sexy voice caressed my ears. "Ms. Teufel would like to see you in her office." She sounded apologetic, probably knowing what was coming.

"I'm in the middle of evaluating a new prospectus, Fawn," I said, trying to sound businesslike. "Can it wait a few minutes?"

She sighed, a sound that sent shivers up my spine. "I'm afraid not," she said regretfully. "She said, 'Tell him to get his ass in here immediately,' and I'm afraid she sounded angry."

"Well, that's different," I said, echoing Fawn's sigh. "Okay, tell her I'll be right in."

"Yes, Mr. Thomas – and, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Fawn," I said gratefully. I didn't even think she had noticed me. But she sounded like she was really sorry, not just because I was a fellow human being, but because it was me. As I walked down the hallway, I wondered how many more times I might be able to see her beautiful face and hear the voice that did such exciting things to various parts of my body.

I've worked here for nearly a year. This was my first real job after grad school, and it took over eight months to find it. I'm not really aggressive, getting much more enjoyment out of analyzing financial issues, manipulating stocks, and looking for investment vehicles that could make life a lot easier for my few clients. Which was my problem – going out and finding new clients.

I knocked softly on the door to Fawn's office, which stood guard between the rest of the staff and Ms. Teufel’s inner sanctum. I could have just gone in, but I wanted to hear her voice, even for those few words. As I entered, I watched her at her desk, her large amber eyes dripping with sympathy, her soft, full lips trembling a little, as if she were the one who was about to be reamed out. Speaking of reaming someone out … no, what I wanted was to take her in my arms and kiss those lips until they trembled in desire, but I didn't want to add sexual harassment to my problems.

Her breasts seemed to heave a little, and her breath was definitely a bit labored. Was she actually concerned for me? Could it possibly be that she felt something for me personally? That was silly. She was just a deeply caring person, and she was very upset that someone – me – was about to lose his job.

I gazed at her for several minutes, not wanting to break the spell. Finally I blurted out like an idiot, "Well, I suppose I should go in."

"I suppose so, Mr. Thomas," she breathed, again with a sigh that sent electrical charges throughout my body, stimulating my cock even in this terrible situation. I took a deep breath, tore my eyes from that gorgeous body, and walked into the inner sanctum.

Ms. Teufel was seated at her desk, a golden glow from the window behind her accentuating her angelic looks. She ignored me, so I looked around at the office, just waiting. I had only been in here three times, once for my hiring interview, and twice to get told off for not finding more clients for the firm. The sparse yet opulent furnishings, demonstrating the excellent taste and wealth of their owner, seemed the perfect setting for this beautiful, elegant, totally cold bitch.

She left me standing there for several minutes while she made notes on a thick some document. When she was certain I was as nervous as possible, she slapped her pen onto the teakwood desk with a loud smack and looked me right in the eye.

"Well, Mr. Thomas," she said sharply. "It's been three months since our last meeting."

"Yes, Ms. Teufel," I agreed, not knowing what else to say.

"And where are the dozen clients you agreed to bring in last quarter?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid I've only acquired five, Ms. Teufel," I said, knowing any excuses would be shot down with a vengeance.

"Yes, and four of those came from recommendations, if I read your reports right."

I nodded in agreement. "Which surely must mean my existing clients are very pleased with my recommendations and handling of their portfolios if they're recommending their friends."

She waved her hand shapely hand, totally dismissing my point. "I'm not quibbling with your financial acumen, Mr. Thomas, or your ability to deal with your clients and their portfolios. Only with the number of those clients. Not to mention your lack of aggressiveness in making cold calls or other efforts that might bring in new clients. In fact, it's only your obvious talent for investments that has kept you employed – up 'til now."

I gulped. This was it.

Ms. Teufel stood up abruptly, walking around her desk like a hunter stalking a sure kill. In spite of the circumstances, I couldn't help but admire the way her large, firm breasts pushed out her finely tailored suit jacket, or hear the enticing swish of her nylons as her legs carried that incredible body all of the way around me. She finally stopped in front of her desk, staring at me sternly from only a couple of feet away.

"Do you like your job, Mr. Thomas?" she said suddenly.

"Why – well, yes I do," I stammered, even though it was a lie. What I really liked was getting paid, not to mention working in an office with two gorgeous women and a few others who weren’t bad at all.

"Do you feel your base is satisfactory?"

"Well, my base pay is very generous, Ms. Teufel, although I believe the commissions I've been earning from increased client activity certainly—”

"Are not nearly what they should be if you were acquiring a lot more clients. Are they, Mr. Thomas? You haven't lived up to your quotas, which we agreed to last quarter, which every brokerage firm demands, and upon which your continued employment depended."

Her eyes were now icy blue, and her face had lost that angelic look. I came from a poor family with no connections. It had taken me quite a while to get this job. Truthfully, my base pay wasn't all that great, but it was better than anyone else would offer me. Losing my job would be very tough, and she knew it. Then she rubbed it in even more.

"Do you think that, if I fired you now, you could find another job very easily?"

"No, Ms. Teufel," I said quietly.

"Then perhaps we should find another basis for keeping you employed."

"I – what?"

She turned and started walking slowly around her desk. "You're not aggressive in seeking out clients, Mr. Thomas, but there are certain qualities of yours which I have noticed. You're very intelligent, and I admire intelligence. You're extremely good with investments, and could perhaps be allowed to manage some of mine on a trial basis." She leaned back against the desk, her upper torso slightly inclined towards me. Her gaze was still piercing, but her eyes had turned a much softer color. "I've also noticed you down in the gym. You're one of the few of my employees who bother to use it, and the only one who does it seriously. When you work out, you have an intensity, a dedication. I also admire that."

I was totally confused. The building her father had left her, an old three-story brick structure near the financial district, had a large basement. Approximately half of the basement had been converted into a very modern and extensive gym, which was where I worked out frequently. I had seen Ms. Teufel down there a number of times, giving me the chance to become familiar with the figure normally hidden in business suits. But I hadn't thought she had ever bothered to look at me.

"Because of these … assets of yours, I believe there's still a chance that you could prove to be a very useful, even a very valuable employee. Would you care to explore those possibilities, Mr. Thomas?"

"Explore the possibilities …. Well, uh, sure, Ms. Teufel. Although I can’t say as I quite understand. What do you want me to do?"

For a long moment she had a very speculative look on her face. Suddenly her expression became completely determined and she turned on her heel.

"Come with me," she said, heading for a door I had thought to be a closet. I followed her into a small elevator that only had two buttons. She pushed the lower button, and the elevator started down.

My mind was in a whirl. She couldn't want a personal trainer to help her in the gym; she obviously knew as much about fitness as I did. Maybe she kept her personal records in a secret part of the basement and was going to try me out on them as she had suggested. When the elevator door opened and she waved me past her, the last thing in the world I expected was to step out into a torture chamber.

“Okay,” I thought idiotically. “Now I know what the rest of the basement is used for.”

The brick walls were padded on three sides, with closets and large drawers on the fourth wall. There were a lot of things I didn't recognize, but most of the equipment was obvious. There were various places someone could be hung from walls or the ceiling depending on the position desired, including something that looked like a swing with stirrups. There were benches of different heights and shapes, there were a couple of different chairs that had clamps and straps attached, and there were two beds that also had straps at the corners. There was also a large shower stall and hot tub in one corner of the room. All of the equipment looked very chic; leather on shining metals, well-padded clamps, even fur coverings on some of the pieces. And most of them looked very painful.

I turned back to look at Ms. Teufel in amazement. She had removed her suit coat and hung it on a large clothes rack. Her hands were clasped behind her back, which pushed her starched, dark purple blouse out even farther. She stared at me like a cat deciding if she should eat the mouse immediately or play with it for a while.

She walked to one of the closets, opening it to reveal a large selection of whips and paddles. She selected a whip of medium length, then turned and snapped the whip expertly. I jumped at the loud crack, barely muffled by the padding on the walls. She turned to me and smiled.

"Well, Mr. Thomas, shall we explore those alternative services? Needless to say, there will be certain – activities – which you will enjoy more than others."

I thought about it, I honestly did. It was clear that part of those 'services' would not only include being whipped or otherwise tortured, but also sexual adventures with my drop-dead gorgeous boss. But as pleasant as fucking Ms. Teufel might be, or as painful as losing my job would be, I just couldn't imagine being tortured to satisfy the sexual gratification of this devil in disguise. I had never been a masochist in the least, and was certain this beautiful monster would make me pay dearly for the benefits I would receive. She looked at me expectantly.

"No, Ms. Teufel," I said as firmly as possible. "I'm not interested in the deal."

She smiled more broadly, a sexy, lust-inducing smile. She dropped the whip and started to unbutton her blouse, slowly, maddeningly. I wasn't about to stop the show, but I had already made up my mind.

She pulled the bottom of the blouse out of her skirt and spun slowly around, tantalizing me as she removed the garment. She exposed a silky black bra that pushed up those luscious breasts, proudly displaying her magnificent cleavage. She put her hands on her hips and smirked at me. My lips were dry, and I licked them once, then again.

"No, Mr. Thomas?" she asked huskily. "Don't you want the chance to get your hands on these tits, to suck my rosy red nipples, to get down on your knees in front of your mistress and lick my sweet, succulent cunt? And maybe, if you are a very good boy and learn all your lessons well, just maybe you will get to fuck me. Can you give all this up, your job, the pleasures of my body, just to avoid a little pain?"

God, how I was tempted! Maybe just once I could put up with it, just to fondle that unbelievable body, to taste the ecstasy of pumping my hard cock all the way into that bitch's cunt, which I was positive would be just as succulent and tight as she promised. But I just couldn't.

"I'm certain, Ms. Teufel. It's not just the pain, although that's a part of it. It's just that, no matter how weak you may think I am, I'm not going to be anybody's toy, their slave, to use as they want. I'll find another job, thanks very much."

I turned to go.

"Wait!" I looked back at her, expecting her to be angry, to be disdainful, or maybe to try and tempt me again. Instead, her smiled broadened and she nodded her head very slightly.

"I was hoping you would say that. Maybe we can find another way to make you more useful to the firm – as well as to me."

Not bothering to pick up her blouse, she stepped across to a phone which was hanging by the elevator door. She picked up the receiver and punched a button. "Fawn, come down here immediately. Put all calls back to the receptionist." She hung up and looked at me.

"Frankly," she said, "I wouldn't have minded if you were willing to be my slave. I meant what I said upstairs, about admiring your mind and your work ethic, not to mention your body. I would have enjoyed you for a while, but would soon have tired of you, I'm sure."

The elevator doors closed, hardly making a sound as the compartment started up. I had no idea of what she thought she was doing, trying to cut off my escape or whatever, but it was not going to work. My mind was completely made up. She must have seen the determined look on my face, because she shrugged her shoulders.

"You're stronger than I thought. But if you're going to be useful to me, to the firm, you need to be even stronger. You need to be a little bit ruthless, to go after clients much harder, to have a certain edge to your business dealings. Maybe we can find a way to teach you a little bit of that ruthlessness – but in a way you’ll find a lot more entertaining."

“Ms. Teufel, no matter what you think, I’m not the ruthless kind.”

She simply smiled enigmatically and shrugged a shapely shoulder. “We’ll see,” she said.

Chapter Two

The elevator door opened again and Fawn stepped into the room. Unlike in the office, she was now wearing a collar made of black leather with studs all around and a ring on each side. It was like a large dog might wear if they got chained up a lot, only she was the opposite of a dog. "You sent for me, Mistress?"

I gaped at Fawn, more startled by her words than all of the rest I had just experienced.

"Yes, Fawn. Mr. Thomas needs to learn how to be more assertive, more dominant. Would you like to help him with his lessons?"

Fawn clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at them. "Whatever my Mistress wishes," she said softly.

"Wait a minute," I said, not wanting this to go any further. "You don't have to do anything she says, Fawn. I'm not going to hurt you just to become more like Ms. Teufel wants. Neither one of us needs their job that badly."

"You think she would do what I wanted just to keep a job?" Ms. Teufel mocked me. "Fawn, tell him how much I pay you."

"Nothing, Mistress."

When my face registered doubt, she gave a slight chuckle.

"That's right, nothing. You see, Jon – mind if I call you Jon right now? – Fawn's not just my secretary. She's my slave. She lives with me. She's my constant companion, including here at the office. She’s been my slave for several years, but that's a story for some other time. And as far as hurting her … you tell him, Fawn."

Fawn's head came up, and she looked me right in the eye. "I would like you to discipline me, Jon," she said in that soft, sexy voice of hers. "Please."

Incredible as it seemed, I could tell she meant it. I looked at Ms. Teufel, not knowing what to say. She seemed quite amused by me.

"Take off your clothes, slave,” Ms. Teufel said calmly. “We'll dispense with the costumes this time."

I had visions of strange, exotic clothing behind one of those closet doors. My skin tingled a little at the thought.

As Fawn took off her blouse, I could see a black, latex bra with holes cut in the centers. Fawn's nipples were already hard, sweet brown berries that stood out nearly half an inch from her dark aureoles. She took her skirt off, showing lacy black panties.

"Just the shoes and stockings for now, Fawn. We'll keep the bra and panties for a while."

Fawn obeyed without a word. When she had taken them off, she knelt on the thick shag carpet with her hands crossed behind her back. It was plain she had assumed this position many times before.

"What does my Mistress desire?"

"I command you to do what this man says while we are in this room. You will call him ‘sir’ and obey his every whim."

The girl of my dreams, Fawn, was kneeling in front of me practically nude. The woman I had barely dared to dream about was in her bra and panties, looking at me expectantly. My head was whirling.

“I don’t understand,” I repeated stupidly. “How does any of this have to do with helping the firm?”

As Fawn knelt patiently in front of us, a few little goosebumps appearing on her silky-smooth flesh, Ms. Teufel started pacing around the room, and her face became less predatory and more professorial.

“Did you know that about fifty-one percent of the population in the U.S. is female, Jon? And yet women control nearly sixty percent of the wealth.”

I don’t know which surprised me more, her sudden shift in attitude or the total non sequitur. Although I was pretty much of a research nerd, I had never given that too much thought. “Um, no, Ms. Teufel.”

“The number of wealthy women in the U.S. is growing twice as fast as the number of wealthy men,” she continued, “with more than half a million of them with personal incomes of  $100,000 or more, and forty-five percent of American millionaires are women. More to the point for us, women represent more than forty percent of all Americans with gross investable assets above $600,000.”

“They do?” I said stupidly. I mean, this was all certainly new information to me, but, no matter how fascinating it was to my economically-oriented brain, I was wondering how in the hell we went from a nearly naked beauty kneeling in an unknown dungeon to discussing the wealth and power of women in general.

“And do you know why that is?” She didn’t wait for an answer, although I probably could have made an educated guess. “Because women are inheriting more, mostly because they live longer than men, and almost half of estates worth more than $5 million are controlled by women.”

“So, mostly wealthy widows?” I finally managed to sound like a halfwit instead of a total nitwit.

She nodded. “And divorcees with nice settlements. Sure, a lot more women are going into business – such as me – but so many more are now single, one way or the other, and they got the gold.”

My mind was whirling. I certainly understood that her point was that I should be concentrating on women as clients rather than men, but I still didn’t understand why we were having this discussion in a dungeon rather than her office. “And this is connected to … this … all of this, I guess BDSM stuff … somehow?”

“Of course,” she snorted in a most unladylike way. “It’s all about power. Or power exchange.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry I’m being slow, but please explain that to me.”

She nodded. “When a person signs a contract with us, what are they really doing?”

I could still put two and two together. “Signing over the power of taking care of their money to us.”

She smiled. “Exactly. But why do people give up their power to someone else?”

I thought for a second, and I’m sure my brows furrowed. “Because they come to believe we can do a better job with it than they can, and trust us to increase it for them rather than losing it?”

Her smile broadened. “Correct again. The key is trust. And it’s exactly the same in a BDSM relationship, where one person gives up their power because they come to believe that the other person – the dominant one – will not only provide for their physical and emotional needs, but their psychological desire to be of service, to please that other person.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I thought about it. “Well, that makes sense, although I’m not sure I’d compare money with sex.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed with a derisive snort. “You don’t think wealth and sex have been intertwined since the caveman days?”

I could feel my face flush red. “Well, yeah, of course, but I mean the difference between someone handing over their money for you to control seems a lot different to me than someone who lets you control what happens in the bedroom.” I looked around. “Or in someplace similar.”

“Why? You think that in the Maslowian hierarchy one is more important than the other? In our modern world it’s basic, Jon, as both are essential for survival,  although the instinct is primitive. It’s not even male or female, as both sexes try to assert their dominance over members of the same sex as well as the other. In the case of men, it’s just as much about being able to select the females they want as it is about getting over on the other person in business. It doesn’t matter if it’s a guy you’re trying to impress with how much better you are at managing his money, or trying to impress a woman that you can give her great sex if she submits to you. Don’t you see that?”

And, finally, I did see it. I had no idea what the Maslowian hierarchy was, but I did understand you had to impress people, one way or another, if you wanted them to trust you. I don’t know how many times in college I had seen a dick-measuring contest (sometimes literally) to see who would make the decisions, or who would get to date the prettiest girl, or whatever. People ‘dressed for success’, they flashed symbols of their wealth and power, just to impress others. So, yeah, in that sense it was all pretty primitive, and I could understand her analogy perfectly.

I looked down at Fawn, nearly shivering now as the dungeon was fairly cold. I looked back at Ms. Teufel. If she was serious, then all I had to do was be bold enough to take what she was offering.

“And you think I can learn how to change my personality, to become more dominant with potential customers as well as submissive women?”

Ms. Teufel stepped up close to me, staring me directly in the eye. “Yes, I think so. I certainly hope so. Now, are you a real man, or just another pussy?”

I swallowed hard. Good question. "Okay. So, what … what should I do?" I asked hoarsely.

A small note of irritation crept into Ms. Teufel's voice. "Jon, this is supposed to be a learning experience for you. Be assertive. Take command."

I looked back down at Fawn. I had been in a state of shock, but looking at her nearly nude, submissive figure, all of my wildest fantasies sprang up. My cock started to do the same. What the hell, I thought. What the fuck did I have to lose? This was way too bizarre to be some kind of strange setup. This place was real, these women were what they said they were. And I was being invited to enjoy it all.

"Would you like to be spanked, Fawn?"

"Yes, Sir," Fawn said sincerely. "I would like to be spanked – by you."

My cock got even harder. "Very well. Go over to one of those benches over there and bend over."

Fawn did not get off her knees, instead crawling over to a short bench that had thick leather padding. I walked over to the cabinet Ms. Teufel had left open and selected a wooden paddle that looked less lethal than the others. It was about eighteen inches long and five or six inches wide, and had holes in it. Fawn was already bent over the bench, her head and shoulders over one end as she held the sides of the bench. Her robustly rounded rump was sticking out in my direction.

I rubbed the end of the paddle lightly over her ass. Her skin quivered lightly, but she did not change her position. "Take off your panties," I commanded.

Fawn reached behind her and grasped the top of her panties. She slid them slowly over her ass and down her legs. Her knees came up under the bench as she slipped the panties off her legs, and then she resumed her previous position.

I gazed down at her ass, the tiny bunghole staring at me enticingly, with her pussy just visible right below. My cock throbbed in my pants, and I wanted to just pull them down and fuck her. But I knew that would please neither of the women. Not to mention that I really was curious about giving a couple of whacks to that beautiful bottom.

I glanced at Ms. Teufel. She stood stiffly, her arms crossed in front of her bra, her mouth quirked slightly to the side. There was an air of expectation in the tension of her facial muscles, but also a slight brightening of excitement in her eyes. My mouth went dry and I swallowed, not wanting to lick my lips. I turned back toward the gorgeous slave, who was obviously waiting for me to take action.

Almost unconsciously, I brought the paddle down lightly against one tawny cheek. Fawn made a tiny sound of pleasure. I looked at Ms. Teufel, whose expression clearly said, "Is that the best you can do?"

I smacked Fawn harder, this time across both cheeks right above her asshole. She gave a little cry of pain, but she certainly did not try to flinch away. Unbelievably, she was really enjoying it! I got a little bit excited myself, and gave her another smack in the same place, this time fairly hard. She moaned, half with pain and half with pleasure. I added hard smacks to each cheek, making them turn slightly red. Fawn cried out, and started rubbing her crotch lightly against the expensive leather covering the bench. I looked again at Ms. Teufel, who was now smiling with pleasure.

I felt a sense of power I had never before experienced. I alternated cheeks hard, right then left, right then left, then a really vicious smack right above the asshole again, then two more on each cheek. Fawn was really crying out and moaning in pain now, her butt a bright red, her pussy grinding hard against the leather. Ms. Teufel's mouth was slightly open, she was breathing harder, and her eyes slightly glazed as she watched me bring the paddle down brutally on the helpless ass of her slave. The blood was pounding in my ears, and I needed some sort of relief.

I stepped around the front of the bench and held the paddle up to Fawn's face. "Kiss it!" I commanded, and she obeyed instantly. "Do you want to kiss something else?" I demanded.

"Yes," she moaned.

"Tell me!"

"Your cock. Please, Sir, may I kiss your cock?"

This beautiful girl, the object of my secret lust, was begging to kiss my cock after I had beaten her butt!

"Take it out, slave. Kiss it!"

Still stretched across the bench, Fawn quickly reached out and unzipped my trousers and pulled them down. The tip of my cock peeked out of the top of my shorts, the head throbbing. Fawn pulled my shorts down and my cock sprang directly at her face.

"You see, slave?" Ms. Teufel exclaimed. "I told you he was pretty well hung."

I had never thought of my eight inch cock in that way even though it may be a little on the thick side, but I was pleased it had helped bring me to her attention in the weight room. Then it hit me. They had discussed me, had planned this little episode! They thought I was their pawn after all! Well, I would see about that. I became more determined to show them both what I was made of.

"Go on, slave. Kiss it!"

Those huge eyes grew larger as she inspected my cock, and that delicate mouth leaned forward to plant a tiny kiss on the tip. Involuntarily I leaned forward as well, and Fawn planted quick, dainty kisses all over my raging bulb, then licked its circumference several times. She continued to tease me with tiny kisses, gentle grazes of her perfectly white teeth, and occasional licks at the pre-cum beginning to ooze from my turgid tool.

I couldn't stand the torture any more. I stepped forward half a pace. "Now suck it!"

Still supporting herself with both hands on the edge of the bench, Fawn instantly took my cock deeply into her mouth, closing her eyes in a languorous way that told me she must have dreamed of such an act as well. She was exquisite. Slowly up and down the length of my penis, then rolling her head as her tongue swirled around the sides of my shaft, then quickly bobbing up and down, taking it into her mouth as far as she could, then just the head, nipping, licking, again kissing with the touch of a butterfly, then sucking deeply again, Fawn made love to my maleness with her mouth. She crooned around my rock-hard member, which created a slight vibration that added to the tantalizing tongue lashing she was administering. I could feel my excitement building, so I quickly stepped back. Fawn stared at me with surprise and a little disappointment.

Her nipples protruded even farther through the holes in the latex, looking swollen with desire. I knew what I wanted to try.

"That's enough of that for now," I said harshly, trying to get my body back under control. "Get off that bench and undress me.

Fawn immediately rose, dropping to her knees at my feet to help me step out of my trousers and briefs. Only now did I notice that her pussy was as bald as her butt, not a hint of a hair to be seen. I had never seen a girl with a shaved pussy, and I could never have imagined it of Fawn. But it excited me even more to think she was such a naughty little girl.

As she stood and started unbuttoning my shirt, I turned to Ms. Teufel. "Do you have some of those things to pinch her nipples with?"

"Nipple clamps," Ms. Teufel said. "Of course. We have several varieties."

"Get me some."

She stared at me with some surprise, no doubt having expected me to order Fawn to get them. However, with only a minor hesitation, she stepped over to open one of the large drawers and reached in, no doubt extracting one of her favorite sets. She handed them to me as Fawn hung my clothes on the clothing rack.

"Sit down on that same bench, slave. Then hold your arms out to your sides."

As Fawn obeyed, the position pushed her pert breasts out even farther, straining for release, her lovely cleavage prominent. Her nipples were still swollen, and her eyes watched me intently.

I examined the titty clamps. The two clamps had very large heads, with several rows of nasty looking teeth each. The chain connecting them looked delicate, as if to emphasize the size of the clamps. Did she really want this?

I reached forward and pinched Fawn's right nipple firmly. Her face showed a trace of pain, but she didn't make a sound. I pinched her left nipple, even harder, and held it.

"Do you enjoy that, slave?" I demanded as sternly as possible.

"Yes, Sir," she said sincerely.

"Do you want me to use these clamps on you?"

"Yes, Sir."

It was still hard for me to believe. I had always dreamed of sweet, tender love-making sessions, only pleasure, never pain. I wanted to caress her gently, stroke her silken flesh, cuddle her comfortably in my arms. But she evidently wanted no part of that.

Still squeezing her left nipple, I leaned forward to kiss her right nipple. I closed my eyes and did just what I had in my dreams, swirling my tongue around and licking and sucking gently. She gave virtually no reaction. Suddenly I bit down, hard, engulfing nearly her entire aureole. She cried out, and pushed her breast harder against my face. My teeth grated sideways, raking her soft skin, and she whimpered loudly and ground her tit firmly into my savage mouth. I was convinced. I bit her nipple again and pulled my face away, standing erect.

Staring her right in the eyes, I snapped one of the clamps firmly down on the nipple I had just mauled, the small sharp teeth biting into the still tender flesh. Fawn grimaced, whimpering in pain, and I could see the nipple distend as it accepted the pain. Without mercy, I clamped the other end on her left nipple. Her mouth uttered another cry of pain, but her eyes spoke only of lust. I knew I had to fuck her right away.

I looked around the room and noticed the smaller of the two beds. The headboard was a mirror. The bed had clasps like handcuffs for both the hands and the ankles, only they were covered with some kind of fur. But between where the ankles would go was a fairly large semi-circle cut into the bed. I understood at once it was so someone could be tied onto the bed in a kneeling position while someone fucked them from behind. That looked just perfect.

I grabbed the nipple clamp chain and pulled Fawn to her feet none too gently. I looked at Ms. Teufel as I pulled the whimpering girl behind me, heading for the bed. She looked very intense. I was sure she was excited by my actions as well as the erotic torture she was witnessing. Keep watching, I thought. The show is just getting started.

I led Fawn to the bed, making sure to keep tension on the chain. "Up there on your hands and knees, slave." I let go of the chain so she could obey.

Fawn climbed onto the bed without haste, moving her body sexily. She lowered her head and wiggled her ass from side to side so that her jutting, firm tits also swung a bit. "Chain her up," I said to Ms. Teufel, walking over to the whip closet. This time she obeyed instantly, no doubt eager to see what I would do next.

There was an instrument that looked something like a riding crop, about a foot long with several leather strands attached to the end. I picked it up and walked to the rear of the bed, where I inspected Fawn's beautiful butt. It was still red from its previous paddling, and her pussy was glistening with her juices. My cock was still semi-hard, and started to stiffen up even more as I anticipated whipping Fawn until she screamed, and then fucking her doggy style. I gave her ass a sharp flick with the strands on the riding crop.

"I used to think you were a sweet, innocent girl, Fawn. But you are very bad, aren't you?"

She did not look back at me as she answered. "Yes, Sir, I am very bad."

I gave her a much harder lash with the crop. "Look at me when I ask you a question, slave!"

Her head came up quickly, and she looked into the mirror so that she could meet my eyes.

"You need a whipping. A very painful whipping, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," she agreed, her doe-like eyes burning with desire. "A very painful whipping."

"I want you to keep your head up and watch me while I whip you, do you understand? If you close your eyes or look away, I'll beat your ass until you bleed."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered.

I started with medium strength strokes, alternating from cheek to cheek, making sure not to hit the same spot twice. In spite of her incredibly masochistic enjoyment, I did not really want to mutilate that silken skin. But as her cries and groans grew louder, and she wriggled her ass more and more from the combination of pain and pleasure and caused my tumescence to grow, the strokes became harder and wilder. They caught her upper thighs, the crack of her ass, occasionally even striking her now dripping lower labia. Welts rose on that perfect posterior. Fawn's cries began to turn to screams, and yet her eyes remained locked on mine, seemingly begging for more. Her ass cheeks were quivering like jello, and her pussy began to spasm.

Finally she screamed out, "Please! Please, Sir, please!"

"Please what, slave?" I shouted, a nasty, angry tone in my voice that was totally foreign to me.

"Please fuck me! Fuck me NOW! Please, Sir!"

I immediately stepped into the semi-circle between Fawn's legs. I thrust my cock all the way up her velvet channel. A shudder passed through my entire body as I rammed it in, feeling the head hit home against inner walls. Her head snapped back, a look of ecstasy lit her face, and a loud "AAAAAHH!" of pleasure welled out of her wide open mouth.

We were transfixed in that tableau for several seconds, and then I started pumping with long, hard strokes, almost all the way out and then ramming it back in like a pile driver, trying to drive that steel rod deep into that fertile mother's earth. Fawn was bucking like a young filly experiencing her first ride, her tossing head flinging her long, lustrous dark hair across her shoulders like she was whipping herself, her dangling tits swinging in all directions as though trying to free themselves from their restraints. On and on we went, in a rhythm like we had been long-time lovers.

Suddenly Ms. Teufel was at my side, pushing something at me. "Here, use this!" she commanded, holding out a dildo about six inches long and thicker than my thumb. I never stopped thrusting into Fawn's pussy, and she seemed totally oblivious to her boss and mistress.

"What the hell do I want with that thing, you stupid twat?" I yelled, in my fury and lust not even thinking of who I was talking to. "I've got my own!"

"She likes it up the ass at the same time," Ms. Teufel explained, not at all bothered by what I had called her. "I use a double dildo."

Well, what the hell, I thought. I shoved my cock up into Fawn's dripping pussy as far as I could and held it there. She was panting heavily, her entire pussy pulsing around my throbbing cock, sweat dripping from her chin and breasts. I quickly strapped the dildo around my waist, noticing that it seemed to have been lubed with something. I pulled my cock out so the head just barely remained inside that hot box, and put the tip of the dildo against Fawn's tiny pucker. She looked in the mirror when she felt the invader touch her asshole, and gave a quick nod. Once again, I just slammed my cock all the way up her churning channel, the dildo banging mercilessly into her anal canal.

"OOOOHH! AAAAAAAHH!"

Fawn's face and sounds left no doubt of her increased carnal pleasure. Again I started pounding her pussy, slamming in even harder and faster than before, the glistening dildo reaming her rear simultaneously. If I thought Fawn was like a young filly before, she was now a full-grown bucking bronco!

It was too much for Ms. Teufel to take. She whipped her skirt off, and pulled down her lacy panties to expose the most perfect pussy I could ever have imagined, pale pinks on a snowy white mound, surrounded by a golden tangle of softly curling fur. I had been certain she was a natural blonde! I pumped away madly as she stepped onto the bed in front of Fawn, shoving that sweet muff against her slave's face.

"Lick me!" she cried. "Eat me out, you worthless slave!"

Fawn needed no encouragement. As well as she could, considering that I was jerking her body around like a marionette, Fawn lapped and licked and slurped and nibbled on that perfect pube like it was the most delectable dessert a master chef had ever offered.

The sight drove me crazy. While putting the dildo on I had dropped the riding crop onto the bed by Fawn's foot, and I didn't really think about it as I crouched down and picked it up again, not letting either weapon leave its sheath. Standing again, I started whipping her right flank like a jockey heading for the home stretch. As I slammed into her rear holes like a madman, I knew that analogy was true in more ways than one.

Fawn was already there. Then I got another surprise. She lifted her head slightly from Ms. Teufel’s muff and said: “Please, Sir, may I cum?” Then she went back to the task she had been commanded to perform.

I was totally confused, by the question as well as being pretty well immersed in a haze of carnal bliss. I got it together enough to say, “Yes, of course you can cum.”

The previous torture, the dual fucking I was giving her, the marvelous muff that was humping into her eager face, and now the whipping I was giving her with the riding crop, all combined to send her over the edge. She lifted her head up into the air once more and her body went rigid. A primal scream pierced the air, and her body shuddered with her intense orgasm. Not even thinking, I pulled out my raging cock and leaped to the head of the bed.

"Get down there and drink her juices!" I commanded Ms. Teufel.

"What?" she asked, more surprised than angry. "But I haven't cum yet!"

"Do as I say!" I shouted, slapping that pink posterior with the riding crop.

"Ow!" she yelped, but hurried to obey, slurping away at Fawn's still dripping pussy. Fawn looked at me gratefully, another tremor passing through her as her mistress drank hungrily of her sweet nectars.

I threw the dildo to the floor. "Now suck me off, slave," I demanded, thrusting my cock at that tantalizing mouth, still wide open from her heavy breathing. Eagerly Fawn wrapped those lush lips around my pulsing tool, bobbing her head and taking me in as deeply as she could in her constrained position. There was no subtlety in her oral efforts this time, just a lustful sucking intended to blow my load as quickly as possible. Five, six, maybe seven times I pumped into that deep throat, and then the geyser erupted, pouring from my loins like champagne from a shaken bottle.

"Ummm! Ummm!" Fawn sounded blissful as my cum splattered the back of her throat, sucking it down as though tasting some incredible delicacy. I briefly thought about pulling out and spraying it all over her face, but she seemed to want to drink it all. Her molten mouth around my still rigid shaft was just too intense a pleasure to deny myself. In fact, she sucked away long after it had run dry and had started to turn soft, evidently enjoying the experience as much as me.

Finally, she let my flaccid member drop from her mouth, and collapsed in exhaustion from all of the pain and sexual frenzies she had endured. Ms. Teufel stood up, her still enclosed breasts heaving, and her usual peevish look on those exquisite features.

"You didn't let me cum," she complained.

"I didn't know you were invited into the action," I said calmly as I got down off the bed. "This was supposed to be a lesson for me, remember? I understood you were just along to grade the test."

For once, my boss was speechless.