Six Degrees Pt. 02

Four

What Martha didn't envision, however, was her husband holding his secretary bent over his desk, fucking her relentlessly. And it was truly 'fucking', no hint of love, just raw sex.

Paul pounded his delightful office assistant, accelerating as he approached his peak. Cindy was gathering speed, too, her arousal growing to a fever pitch; but he climaxed just before she could get there.

Without hesitation, he spun her around for a quick clean-up. Leaning in to slurp and lave his sagging prick, she let her hands drop to her crotch, trying to salvage her looming orgasm. "Get your hands out of there!" he reprimanded. "Wait until our next break." And with that, he sent her, with a smack on the bottom, back to her desk. While she reluctantly retreated to her post, he lectured, reminding her, "You wear two hats here – one as efficient office employee and the other as sex slave – but never both at once." Of course, he didn't mention – or even consider, for that matter – her extra-office role as somebody's wife.

As Cindy took up her official duties once more – creating a specialized document – her mind wandered back to the beginning, back through the history of just how she came to this.

At twenty-five, Cindy was a cute little true blonde, her tiny frame accentuating her stunning figure, and she generally wore clothes that complimented her size and shapely body. She'd found her boss very attractive, right from the initial interview, and although she'd known he was married – as was she – she'd fantasized about him, a bit – insignificant, harmless fantasies.

Paul was, ostensibly, all business, still, he noticed the glitter in her eyes, as her attraction to him developed into a bona fide, adolescent infatuation. Subtly, he began to fan the flames – a brief touch, a wink, a bit of mild innuendo. And so, he quietly cultivated her growing attention, her heightening desires. Poor Cindy couldn't see, through her blossoming adulation, the self-centred rawness that was at the root of this developing relationship.

She started dressing suggestively to impress her boss – mistaking skanky for classy – responding to his unspoken approval. And her choices became more revealing as affair germinated. She waited on his every word; basked in his attention, even when he teased her. She idolized him, even if he sometimes demeaned her. Awed by his decisiveness, she had to admit, she went a little ga-ga over him. She would do 'anything' for him, but she didn't recognize that his taking advantage of her was rapidly becoming no more than simple power-mongering. Still, she constantly stroked his ego, consistently deferring to him, in virtually all things.

A successful middle management guy, tall and muscular, handsome, athletic and powerful, Paul was blissfully unaware of his wife's fantasies – her kinky desires and newly discovered submissive proclivities. Didn't even suspect she might be cheating, couldn't believe she ever would.

Although he tried not to be, he was rather resentful of his wife's success – her position and her larger salary. In fact, his wife's better job made him feel emasculated and insecure. As much as he entertained fantasies, he had never even considered taking a dominant role with her in real life. It seemed, to him, out of the question.

But with Cindy it was a different matter. At 42, Paul is almost old enough to be her father; furthermore, he'd found her, right from the start, almost irresistibly alluring. "Not only that," he rationalized, "she treats me like a real man!"

So, Paul began, subtly at first, to take advantage of Cindy's blind adoration. He figured he could run with this situation for as long as it lasted, suddenly seizing on the notion that this was the perfect opportunity to realize a fantasy; that is, exercise dominance.

Over the next few weeks he observed that Cindy did indeed show indicators of a latent submissiveness – bending over backwards to please him, glowing at the albeit sparse praise he gave her, and watching him hungrily. Flying by the seat of his pants, Paul nurtured and cultivated Cindy in her self-assumed submissive role. "Finally," he said to himself, "an up-side to the wife's business trip and late days," as he started looking at opportunities – scheming and planning.

Step one had been taking Cindy to a hotel restaurant for a working lunch – innocent enough. But he watched her like an eagle, and, when they'd finished and returned to the office, he thought he could detect a subtle air of disappointment in Cindy's demeanour.

For her part, Cindy, thought it curious that she had felt almost disappointed that nothing happened. Which was odd, as she had never had sex with anyone other than her husband since getting married. "Sex! Where did that thought come from?" Until now she hadn't even considered it, at least not consciously.

Then, only a few days later, Paul took her for another "a business lunch." This time, as they finished eating, he leaned forward and murmured, sotto voce, "I took the liberty of getting a room. Would you like to join me for a drink in private?" Excited and nervous, Cindy followed as they ascended to the room he had taken. Her mind was racing – chasing its tail, and whether she knew it or not, she was ready!

In fact, Cindy was more than ready. She was unbelievably horny – more so than she'd ever been. She could barely stand it. She felt herself burning up, vibrating, like she was about to explode. At that point, being married and having a husband were about the furthest things from her mind; all thought of the rest of her world had fled from her awareness, vaporized in the searing heat of hyper-arousal, and, through a miasma of erotic overload, Cindy gave up her married exclusivity without a second thought.

Paul pulled her into a lip-mashing embrace, arms squeezing tight, tongues tangling and tango-ing. Cindy slid her hands from his broad shoulders to his chest and started tearing at his clothes. "So much for drinks," he chuckled, wryly to himself. Then, suddenly, he held her away, and paused, establishing his dominance. "I want to see you in the buff." He smiled a predatory grin, adding, "Get naked for me, Cindy." He unbuttoned his shirt and opened his trousers while he watched her disrobe.

Cindy felt self-conscious and awkward, although she tried to maintain some degree of grace. Peeling her blouse off her shoulders, she tried for a sultry look as she let it dangle, then fall from her arms. Smoothly she loosened her skirt and let it puddle at her feet – the whole time watching Paul's eyes for clues. Pausing just a moment, she rolled down her stockings and kicked them off; then, getting a nod from her boss, she reached back and undid her bra. Suddenly flustered, Cindy didn't know, exactly, what to do. Frozen, she clasped the bra-cups against her boobs and studied Paul's intent stare. In his eyes, she thought she detected a glint of encouragement – no, it was not so much encouragement as command. Slowly she dropped her hands, letting her bra fall to the floor, then hooked her thumbs into her waistband and stripped her panties to her knees – dropping them and daintily shaking them free of her ankles.

Fully revealed, she stood for a moment letting her boss appreciate her naked charms. Stepping tentatively toward him, Cindy moved to reconnect their embrace, but Paul put his hands to her shoulders and pressed. "First, a blow-job," he murmured, pleased at how readily she complied – already. "Learning her position quickly," he thought.

Coming face to face with his rampant prick, Cindy was over-awed, experiencing a sort of rapture. She paused, studying the bouncing erection, then took it in her hands and felt its firmness, its rigidity. She was fascinated by the purple plum straining against the brown sleeve of his foreskin. Reverently she leaned in and tongued the drop of precum that had emerged from its eye like an opalescent tear. Paul slid his hands behind her head, coaxing her with gentle pressure. She proceeded to worship his cock, licking and kissing along his length, then, her eyes betraying a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, she rounded her lips and plunged herself onto him, pushing over him as deeply as she could. Cindy's eyes went wide as she realized she had never had anything that big in her mouth before. She focused on the experience, pulling on his firm buttocks with both hands while she swiveled about his rigid manhood. She hoped she was doing a good job.

Paul figured they would eventually get to the point where she would be able to deep-throat him with ease. He'd make sure of it – but this was fine for now. Paul removed his hands from Cindy's head, satisfied that she would stay the course, and reached down to grab and maul her breasts, roughly, pinching and rolling her nipples. Cindy continued with a new fervor, pushing and withdrawing, collapsing her cheeks, swirling her tongue, mewling desperately around the trembling pole, until, with a gasp and a jolt, Paul held her head tight onto him and jetted his seed deep into her throat. Cindy fought not to gag, as Paul warned, threateningly, "Swallow! Swallow it all."

After he had spurted his last, Cindy gulped and gasped, catching her breath, her eyes still wide. Paul stayed within her lips, and soon felt the invigorating power of her oral caress begin to rejuvenate his erection. His hands still gripping and squeezing her tits, Paul pinched her nipples firmly and, mercilessly stretching them up, raised her to her feet. Once standing, letting her nipples spring back, he rewarded her with a smoking hot kiss, as he swiveled her about and laid her back on the bed. She was still panting – but now in renewed anticipation – Cindy gazed adoringly up at him – her virile conquistador.

Peeling off his duds, Paul held himself in check while covering her lazily, and teasing her pussy with his swollen cockhead. He leaned down to meet her lips in another hungry kiss, then, without warning, he rammed himself fully into her. She wheezed in surprise but quickly began to rock her hips rhythmically, meeting his every thrust. Slowing into a more comfortable rhythm, Paul guided Cindy's lips to his chest, to his nipples.

Feeding off each others fire, they both marched steadily toward climax. With sweat shimmering on their trembling bodies, thrusting and receiving, gasping and groaning, they accelerated until they exploded, shaking and shivering in a shared orgasm. Following a short stillness, Paul pulled out and shuffled on his knees up the bed. "See if you can get me hard again," he directed, presenting his dripping, yet still semi-erect penis to her mouth. Cindy slurped it in and was pleased when, in short order, he regained his rigidity.

This time he arranged her on all-fours and mounted her doggie-style. They sawed back and forth, in and out, with a fervent urgency, and, to the surprise of both, arrived at their respective climaxes together once again.

It took a degree more felatio to get him up again, but, eventually, Paul's staff stood proudly upright, as he lay comfortably on his back. He directed Cindy to straddle him and, lining up his waving sword with her dripping snatch, she lowered herself onto him, sliding down to sit on his pubis. Once fully impaled, she began to ride him in earnest. Cindy marveled at the broiling feelings of impending orgasm rising so quickly within her, as she bucked and bounced on his rampant member. Paul's climax was slower in coming, as it was his fourth, and this allowed Cindy to attain an unprecedented third orgasm during her first try at cowgirl position.

Cindy flopped down beside Paul, pulling smoothly off his peg, and lay silently beside him, staring at the ceiling. Catching their collective breath, recovering from their exertion, they stayed there, on the bed, still, Cindy rolled against him, holding close and cuddling possessively, and reveled in the afterglow.

But that was it for sexual hotel-lunches, as it turned out – one time only. Paul believed that Cindy was already truly enmeshed in his Machiavellian scheme, so, he needn't waste any more time nor money on hotel lunches or rooms. Still, Cindy remained awed by his, somewhat contrived, machismo. Attracted from early on by his good looks and masculinity, she was, now, blinded by – what? ...love? ...infatuation? ... great sex? ...fantasy? ...naughtiness? Whatever, she loved the way their complexions had complemented and contrasted. The black and white knot of their limbs as they'd embraced in afterglow of their one hotel lunch. Sadly, she realized that there never seemed to be time for 'afterglow' any more.

Within a couple of days after their romp in the hotel, Paul had shifted to the more direct approach. "Come in here, Cindy, and lock the door behind you," he demanded, his soft voice carrying a cutting edge. Then, he proceeded to take her in his office, bent over his desk, with no preliminaries. Yet, she was thrilled by the 'spontaneous' and illicit nature of it – still clothed, the rest of the world bustling right outside her door – so much so, that she actually reached climax, before the boss had pulled out. He ordered her to clean him up, and straighten her clothes then, before sending her back to her desk, he said, "From now on, you can dispense with the undergarments at work." He acknowledged her quiet surprise with a raised eyebrow, adding, "Removing impediments, as it were." Leaving his office, she felt very self-conscious, sure that her 'just-fucked' look was very obvious to her co-workers – as it was.

From then on, Paul seized every opportunity to exert his dominance in ways he couldn't even imagine doing in his marriage; and Cindy willingly became subservient, kowtowing to his every whim, submissive to his domination. Soon, bent over the desk, no foreplay, no consideration became such a regularity, it was almost mundane.

So, to change it up a bit, Paul would come up with various 'challenges'; for instance, he got Cindy to suck his cock, under his desk, while he was on the phone. He laughed as he described it to his caller. "You know my little blonde bombshell secretary I been telling you about? Well, guess what she's doing, right now! She's under my desk, chokin' on my root, as we speak!" He could feel his climax approaching even as he boasted. "Here, lemme send you a picture. I'll call you back after I cum!"

Paul then leaned back and tensed as he felt his orgasm detonate. "Look!" he demanded, snapping her surprised visage, just as he let loose. Cindy was getting good; she didn't spill a drop – although, he realized, a little dripping semen would have enhanced the picture. "Make it all clean, then you can go," he instructed, then reconnected with his friend. Cindy heard the lewd guffaws as she closed his office door behind her.

Another time, he had her answer his phone while she was on his lap being fucked. "Mr. Matthews' office." Cindy fought to control her breathing while she listened to the caller. "Who may I say is calling?" She waited, not quite able to keep the breathiness out of her voice. "Please hold while I see if he's available." She squealed her frustration as she put the call on hold, the build-up to her climax gathering speed. "I'll take it," Paul chuckled. And he started right in gloating about his secretary as soon as he got on the line – "Yeah. She's riding me hard, trying to get herself off. I'd have both her tits in hand if I wasn't holding this damn phone." With that he pinched her nipple, hard, flaring her growing arousal. Taking her, bucking and rocking, right to the edge of a climax. She could feel him swelling and twitching within her, still he went on talking as if she wasn't right there.

Somehow, she enjoyed the treatment, feeling some sort of perverse rapture, an electrifying, exhilarating invigoration that left her tingling and dazed. He treated her like dirt, yet, she felt a sort of renewal – like she was being born again, with each new depravity.

One day, talking on the phone while poking her doggie over the desk, Paul discussed with his anonymous affiliate, using her 'charms' to sweeten deals with clients. He said he would share her next time his colleague drops by, "Just to see what you think. We can double-play her, make an Oreo Cookie – you in her cunt and me up her ass." The unheard response had him howling with laughter. "No, she won't mind," he said, slapping her bottom. "She'll love it," adding after a moment, "Won't you slut?" Cindy just moaned in reply, feeling, at the sordid prospect, the sudden approach of an orgasm.

Out of the office, Cindy pondered her situation, wondering why she reveled so much in her newfound submissiveness. She rationalized that it was due, at least in part, to her rather boring sex life at home.

Even if she was actually losing the stars in her eyes, Paul had a hold over her – she would still do pretty much anything for him. She couldn't explain why she still thrilled at each at each new indignity she was subjected to. Indeed, she craved the excitement.

She was coming to realize that the demands Paul made of her had nothing to do with love, or even mutual titillation, but much more to do with power-mongering. Deep down Cindy knew that it was hardly dominance/submission any more, but more simple usury. She was willing accomplice to her own abuse. Yet, the more she got, the more she wanted. In fact, she enjoyed his constant stream of trash-talk. Paradoxically, his put-downs only served to pump her up. Yes, she had to face it; she must be some kind of emotional masochist.

Sitting at her desk, considering her recent history, juices leaking onto her seat, Cindy knew she was in way over her head. And that it'd have to end soon. But she was still having fun! She still enjoyed the carnal aspect – and the submission – along with the odd, masochistic or misogynistic desire it stirred within, the perverse delight she took from her own degradation.

She also knew a gangbang was in her near future, and she wouldn't want to miss that! She looked forward not only to the sexual experience, but to the demeaning aspect as well. Oh, yes, she could see that she needed to back out of this quite soon. Still, she'd give it just a little bit longer. She'd do the gangbang first! "It'll be hard to give up the thrill and excitement," she thought, "even though I know it must end."

Cindy had the naïve notion that the expectations would cease whenever she chose to stop. "Soon," she proclaimed in her head, "I'll get all this out of my system, and slide back into being a good wife. No harm, no foul!" Furthermore, she erroneously thought she'd been smart enough not to get caught.

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Five

Cindy's husband, Burton, sipped a steaming mug of coffee, across the kitchen table from Sam, eying her through the steam. "I believe my wife is having an affair." Then he dropped his gaze, and stared down into his coffee mug, as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

Sam, sensing a desperation or devastation in his voice, asked with deliberate casualness, "What makes you think that?"

It all came out in a torrent of anguish: "She works late way more frequently than she used to; she doesn't always answer her phone at lunch, which she always did before – or she's breathless when she does. And I've even heard suspicious noises in the background. Once, when she got home late, I'm pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra. As far as I know, she's never gone to work braless. And she's often distracted – preoccupied – on the phone, at home." Burt paused only a moment, heaving a deep breath, steeling himself before going on.

"Even at home, even when we're making love, it seems, more and more, that she's not really there – not present; it's like it's just rote sex, not love any more. And it's changing in frequency as well – decreasing? – I don't know – fluctuating, anyway!" Sam waited as he caught his breath again. She let him rant. He obviously wasn't finished yet. "And I've seen mysterious marks on her body – bruises and blemishes – that she cannot adequately explain!" Finally, his shoulders drooped as he concluded, "I'm sure she's having an affair!"