by Cyan
Copyright 2008 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
"What do you mean 'talk less'?" said Madison.
She was annoyed. I'd kind of been afraid she'd be, but I make myself face these sorts of issues. Not facing up to potential confrontations leads to way too many problems. "Look, I'm just trying to help," I said.
She eyed me, obviously not accepting this. Madison, besides being a bit too outspoken in meetings, was obviously a bit volatile. Couldn't she see that as the newest hire, and with no degree at all, much less an MBA, that it was in her best interests to simply listen for a bit? I tried not to cringe at the look she was giving me. "So I'm just supposed to sit there quietly," she said.
Well, yes, actually. "Please don't take this the wrong way," I said, wishing she would calm down.
She approached, closer. Much closer. "Remember," she said, in a low, tight voice, her face inches from mine, "I own you.".
As she backed off, a slight smile played on her face. "What?" I said, before thinking. Suddenly I was confused. I had no clue what she was talking about. She did, indeed look like she knew something that I didn't, or that we both knew something significant. "What are you talking about?" I said.
I didn't like the way my voice sounded when I asked it. But I really couldn't understand. She looked at me with such venom. And triumph. "Hm," she said, still with that slight smile.
"What do you mean you own me?" I said. I was definitely confused. And uneasy.
"Exactly that," she said. "Outright."
We stared at each other. Did she mean she knew some secret about me? I tried to read anything in her face that suggested, I don't know, that this was a joke or a bluff or something. I couldn't see it. "I sincerely don't know what you are talking about," I said, fortunately, managing to keep my voice perfectly steady. Nearly.
"Ah," she said. "Then I suggest you come over to my place tonight. Seven o'clock."
And she turned and walked out.
I stood there, nearly in a daze. I had no concept what she could have meant. And that bizarre invitation. Or "suggestion", or whatever you would call it. I realized belatedly that some people are impossible to help.
But it bugged me. That afternoon, I found myself trying to concentrate, but all I could think about was how Madison wouldn't listen to me. And what did she mean by that insane outburst? I hardly knew her, merely seeing her at work. What could she possibly be talking about?
It was still on my mind when I left work. I knew she must be crazy, and that it was time to forget trying to help her, if only for my own sanity. She owned me? It was plain silly. How could she say that? Try as I might, I could think of nothing she might know about me. It bothered me long after I usually managed to put the day's tribulations out of my mind.
I sat there at supper, hardly eating. Still bothered. Still totally ignorant of what she might mean. At seven o'clock, I was at her door.
She smiled as she opened it, holding it open for me. I stood there without entering, as if holding my ground. "I would like to know what you think you're talking about," I said.
She pointedly, casually, looked away from me. She looked as if she had no reason not to shut the door. Like the fact that I was standing there meant nothing. "Well?" I said.
"Well then come in," said Madison, and motioned me to enter.
Her apartment wasn't bad; it was neat and nicely decorated. I realized I needed to focus on the issue at hand, and turned to face her. "Care to explain?" I asked. She simply walked past me, into what was evidently her living room, and I found myself following. It felt wrong that she was doing the leading. "Well?" I said, when we finally faced each other.
She eyed me. She still had that look she always has, contained. Not a doubt in her mind. "Take off your clothes," she said.
"What?" I said, now truly amazed.
"Take--off--your--clothes," she said, as if implying I was being obtuse. "It's just the two of us here."
"I swear, I don't know what you're talking about," I said. I couldn't believe she just said that! What was she talking about, all this stuff? We stared at each other. "You're really going to have to explain," I said.
"Then take off your clothes."
"I'm not going to take off my clothes," I said. I mentally swore at myself for dignifying her with an answer.
"The clothes," she said, "then we talk."
I sighed despite my unease. "I'm leaving," I said. I wondered why I had come.
"Excellent," she said. "But don't forget that I own you."
I couldn't take it. "Can you tell me what in heavens you're talking about?" I said.
"If you want to talk, take off your clothes." Once again, we were staring at each other. I had the irrational thought that this could go on all night. Why was I here? I wondered. "I really suggest you make use of this chance," she said.
There wasn't anything she could know about me. Heck, there wasn't all that much about me to know: I'd been Miss Perfect as long as I could remember. "You are crazy," I said.
"I suggest," she said, looking not one whit less sure of herself than any time that day, "that you do it. Then we talk."
It was definitely time to leave. She affected me irrationally. There was no reason to be scared of her. Her smile grew, just a touch. I felt goosebumps.
And I realized I was taking my clothes off.
I couldn't meet her eyes. She stood there, watching me. If she was sure of herself before, the triumph she'd be showing now would be unbearable to watch.
I stood before her, naked. She'd said she would explain. This was so insane. So ridiculous. I finally met her eyes, if only briefly. Yes, she smiled. Well? I should say. She really did have to explain now.
She darted out of the room. And came back in a moment, with something. She put it on the carpet in the middle of the room. It was rounded on top. She plugged it in. "Straddle it," she said.
I stared at it. "What is it?" I said.
"It's called a Sybian."
I couldn't make heads or tails of this. "You have to tell me what this is all about," I said. I hated the obvious desperation in my voice.
"First, just get down and straddle it."
There I was, standing naked in her living room. Standing there, letting her tell me what to do. "Madison," I began.
"First, straddle it. Then we talk," she said.
I stared at it. I know I looked totally awkward as I got down on the carpet. I found myself almost go into a daze, a panic at what I was doing. What did she know? Why did she say she owned me? It was obscene, sitting on it in that way.
I sat there. "Well?" I said.
It began to vibrate a tiny bit. In her hand, she had something. A remote control. "Listen," I said.
"Quiet," she said.
The vibration was growing, just a touch. Very gradually. Why was I doing this? "Madison..."
"Sh."
The room was still. The vibration was its loudest noise. It continued to grow, ever-so-gradually. She was very clearly turning a knob. Why was I doing this? What could she possibly be going to tell me? It was getting stronger. And affecting me. "Madison," I said, now really concerned.
"Relax," she said. It grew stronger. And stronger.
And it was clear. I needed to breath, harder. Between my legs, the feeling was there. I felt shivers, from more than just my lack of dress. Still, it grew. In no time, I was gasping for breath, and feeling lightheaded.
I realized it was going to happen. It was about to happen, and I wasn't going to stop it. I looked at her. She held a camera. Recording.
And it happened.
* * *
I was upset, that's all I can say. I walked into her office, and shut the door. "You didn't have to do that," I said.
Madison sat, looking up at me. "Yes?" she said, as if unclear what I was talking about.
"Ashley," I said. The woman was probably back at her own desk, in tears. She was new, and Madison did not have to make a fool of her in front of the rest of us, even if Madison was the boss, now. Madison looked at me, enquiringly. "You didn't need to do that," I repeated.
She merely held my gaze. And I realized exactly what I'd just been doing. Here I was, in Madison's office, confronting her. I wondered at my own sense of self-preservation, or lack of it. I well-knew that Madison was bound to do exactly whatever she felt like doing, ever since that day Diane had inexplicably promoted her above us all. And the way everyone just gave in to her on everything. I could no longer hold Madison's eyes.
"Let's see your tits," she said.
I was in for it. I felt the goosebumps, and stood, frozen to the spot. Her smile widened. She seemed happy that I was doing nothing. Realizing I was digging myself in deeper, I quickly undid my blouse and pulled my bra up.
She snapped me with her cell phone.
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.