After a night of the kinkiest sex I had ever had and a weekend to think about it, I was relieved to go back to work on Monday. Tom Bavington, the head of the lab where I worked, came home from the hospital over the weekend and was in his office when I got to the research building. He couldn't move around well; he was on crutches and his cast over his broken leg was huge. I left him alone to get caught up on Monday. On Tuesday, I stopped by his office on the way home.

He looked up from a spreadsheet. I always thought he looked like he belonged on a beach: bright blue eyes, sandy curls, and the quickest, whitest smile I had ever seen. He waved me in, smirking. "Come in, Rachel," he said. "How's the new equipment set-up coming?"

"Good. The only thing left on backorder is one of the thermocyclers," I told him, putting my bag down and sitting in a chair across from him. "I'm planning to start some bench work tomorrow to help Raj."

"The pharmaceutical study?"

"Yes. The one the funding agency was interested in."

"Oh, speaking of...I received a call from Phillip Sterling today."

It was like being broadsided, hearing his name in this neutral place. It brought his face to mind and every delicious thing we had done. The adrenaline surged through me. "Really?" My voice sounded strange to me.

"He spoke very highly of how accessible you made the science to everyone who watched your presentation." Heat flooded my face. The praise left me both warm and rattled. "I know public speaking isn’t your thing. Thank you for doing it and knocking it out of the park."

"I was a wreck," I admitted. "Thank you for not telling me how much the award was for."

He grinned. "You're very welcome. You're past due for a raise, by the way."

"I'll take that." I got up. "I'm headed home. Raj and I start at seven tomorrow. Call the lab when you're settled in your office?"

"Will do."

I walked to my car, taking deep breaths to calm my beating heart. I was in a tailspin over the mention of Mr. Sterling's name. That was ridiculous behavior for a grown woman. I let myself into my car, sat in the driver's seat a moment, and put my head in my hands. This was not good. I was too invested. I needed to decide right there and then that I wasn't going to see Mr. Sterling again and stop this train wreck before it happened again. For my own protection.

#

Less than a day after I made the resolution to avoid Mr. Sterling, Ali, his personal assistant, called me. It was Thursday afternoon during one of the few hours in the last five days that the man hadn't been on my mind. My heart leapt into my throat when I heard her say, "Miss Conway?"

"This is she."

"Mr. Sterling asked me to contact you. Representatives from Medline Scientific are going to be in town next week. He was wondering if you had availability tomorrow at four to discuss the applications for your lab."

Both Mr. Sterling and I knew the applications for my lab. Meleah Singh, one of Tom's post-doctoral fellows, would love the chance to work with the company and maybe earn a position. This meeting was about Mr. Sterling using her as leverage to talk me into spending a weekend with him. Which, ironically, was a very arousing thought.

My stomach knotted. I hated what I was about to do. "I'm sorry," I said in a very low voice. "I'm afraid I'm not free tomorrow afternoon at all."

"Would you like for me to see how late he would be willing to meet?"

"No, thank you."

She waited but I didn't explain further. "Very good, Miss Conway. I'll let him know."

Over the weekend, rather than sitting home and moping on my couch, I worked at the lab. Raj made an appearance on Sunday. I showed him where I was on the experimental plan for the pharmaceutics project and we agreed to talk in the morning after I finished my latest round of assays.

On Monday morning, while we were talking, the lab phone rang. I assumed it was Tom. "Bavington lab," I answered.

"Miss Conway?" I recognized Ali's voice and I physically jumped. I held up a finger to Raj and walked a step or two away.

"Yes?" I said in a low voice.

"Mr. Sterling wanted to know if you were interested in coming to see a presentation by Medline Scientific on Wednesday afternoon at two. He said that you would have the opportunity to exchange professional information with the head of R&D."

He was offering me the Medline contact information for Meleah in exchange for seeing me. It was obvious. He must have guessed what it meant when I didn't go to him on Friday.

"Miss Conway?"

"Wednesday at two?" I asked, stalling.

"Yes. There will be light refreshments."

Oh, he wasn't fair. The contact information for Meleah was a huge favor and he was asking for a small thing. Besides, it felt rude to just drop off the map. But, I just didn't know how to be around Mr. Sterling in a casual way.

"Miss Conway. Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just checking my calendar," I lied. I bit my lip. I took a deep breath and against my better judgement, said, "Please thank Mr. Sterling for thinking of me. I'm available to attend."

"Thank you, Miss Conway. I'll let him know."

I hung up the phone and exhaled a long breath. I finished my discussions with Raj and then decided that I needed to tell Tom...something about this. I went to his office.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked through his ajar door.

"Come in."

I sat down across from him. "I just took a call from the foundation. They'd like me to come see a talk being given by Medline R&D."

His brow furrowed. "I didn't mean for you to have to deal so much with them. Raj told me that you brokered a deal where he might get to work with Reginald Jax; Charlie said that you gave him the heads-up on the Pasteur Institute...."

"I've built a..." Oh, God, what word should I use? "...rapport with Phillip Sterling. His assistant calls me directly when he thinks there is an opportunity for someone in the lab. This one is about Meleah Singh. He thinks Medline R&D would be interested in her work. I can get contact information while I'm there."

"If you don't mind, then," he said. "Maybe I can take over some of this when I'm out of a cast."

I stifled a laugh. "Maybe," I managed. "Until then, I'll let you know if they call me."

"Sounds good."

I went back to the lab but I was useless for the rest of the day. I was going to see Phillip Sterling. If he propositioned me, I was going to have to find the strength to say no. And I really, really didn't know if I could; I hadn't managed it yet.

#

I was in knots Wednesday when I went to see the Medline presentation. They were a continuation of the knots that I hadn't been able to shake since Monday morning. I got off the elevator at Stillet Building on the twenty-third floor and the receptionist still recognized me. "They're in the conference room, Miss Conway," she said, showing the way.

I entered and all of the members of the board from my presentation--the well-dressed black man, the silver haired older man, and the woman with the structured haircut, as well as Mr. Sterling--were already seated.

Mr. Sterling stood when he saw me, his eyes dark and intense, looking well-manicured as he always did. His face was completely unreadable, but it didn't stop the heat from flooding my cheeks.

"Miss Conway," he said. "I'm glad you could make it. Sit with me." I responded to his tone physically. And, of course I sat where he told me to.

The Medline representatives set up their presentations and dimmed the lights. The cutting edge science was almost enough of a distraction to see me through an hour in the dark with Mr. Sterling. Almost. I took notes just to make sure I stayed focused. When the lights came up, the board asked a few questions and I kept my eyes away from the man next to me.

At the end, Mr. Sterling pulled out my chair and put a hand on my back. It thrilled through the fabric of my dress. "Your contact information," he said in a low voice and led me over to one of the Medline representatives.

"Ryan, I'd like for you to meet Miss Conway. She's the lab manager for the research lab that I was discussing with you. Miss Conway, this is Dr. Ryan Ballist, head of R&D for Medline."

"It's a pleasure," I said, offering my hand. My voice was soft, even for me.

He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. "Phillip mentioned that there was someone in your lab who was doing work applicable to our company. A post-doctoral fellow?"

"Dr. Singh. She works in immunological cancer therapies. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you.

"Tell her to give me a call."

"Thank you," I said, accepting his card.

I sat through the presentation; I got the business card. Now, I just wanted to flee but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. I settled my bag on my shoulder and turned to Mr. Sterling; he was already watching me. "I want a few minutes of your time," he said, his voice low.

"Mr. Sterling--."

"No arguments," he interrupted, again in a low voice. My heart started to pound. He put a hand on my back, almost like a restraint, and led me to the conference room door. He leaned close to me and whispered, "Come with me."

And, God help me, I did. It was because he had given me Medline. But mostly, it was because I wanted to. We went to his office, as I knew we would.

As soon as his office door closed, he turned to me. "You've been avoiding me." He sounded frustrated.

"I have."

"Because you've decided not to come back."

"Yes."

He appraised me for a moment. "It would be polite to tell me why."

I flushed at the chastisement. I spoke so low he had to lean forward to hear me. "This isn't just a physical thing for me."

"You're avoiding me because you're forming an attachment?"

I nodded. "I don't seem capable of casual sex," I whispered.

He stepped a little closer to me. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "That sex we had wasn't casual." The heat came into my cheeks. "I tied you to my bed. I forced you into orgasm a dozen times. You let me do anything I liked."

"Yes." I was so embarrassed, I had tears in my eyes.

He lifted my chin. "That builds attachment...for both of us." He gave me a long look. "You've evaded me for ten days over this?"

"I'm going to be badly hurt when the novelty of my shyness and inexperience wears off."

He gave me a long, disapproving look. "That is a gross oversimplification of my interest in you, Miss Conway. This is far more complicated than me fetishizing your shyness."

"How?"

"I have a very specific craving for a certain sexual experience that I believe only you can give me. One I think you want, too. My desire for you goes well beyond any one character trait."

Half of my blood went to my cheeks and half to my groin. Just like that--less than five minutes after I entered his office--all my resolve to stay away from him dried up.

"How do I deal with you?" I breathed, not even knowing that I was going to speak. My face couldn't have gotten hotter but it tried.

"You trust me, Rachel."

His expression turned intense. He just watched me for a few seconds with those dark eyes and tilted my face back to him when I looked away. Then he took his hand away and seemed to shake himself.

"Now," he said, leading me to a chair at the table, the command back in his voice. "I want you for a weekend."

I sat and he did too. "I haven't agreed to come back at all, let alone for a weekend."

"Yes, I know. This is my offer. I have a contact at Harvard who could help Dr. DeLeo get a teaching position, which I know he's been trying for."

"He has."

"So, will that earn me a weekend with you?" He gave me a long look while I hesitated. "You loved the sex. We've addressed your attachment concerns. What's holding you back?"

What, indeed? My heart beat fast, in warning but I ignored it. Finally, I said, "You're getting two or three times as much from me for the same type of reward."

A smile played on his lips. "Fair enough. A contact for Dr. DeLeo and something else."

"Yes."

"How about something for you directly this time?" he asked, watching me without blinking. "You could answer a question I've had for some weeks, now. You have a job you like. You don’t seem to have an interest in theater or sports. You don’t travel. No social media presence."

By now I was just staring at him. Of course he had been checking up on me. He had to be; he had for everyone else in the lab. It still came as a little shock.

"So, tell me, Miss Conway. I'm stumped. What would sweeten the deal for you?"

He was right. Until I met him, I was basically content with my life. What did I want? I wanted to be less shy. I wanted to be more adventurous. I wanted a wonderful night of amazing sex with a virtual stranger to make me feel good rather than bad. And when I was adventurous, I didn’t want the memories of it to fade so fast. I thought about that and then spoke before I really considered my words.

"I want my collar."

He sat up and sat forward. I actually sat back in my chair in response. "Excuse me?"

"I want to take my collar with me when I leave." I wanted a physical reminder of what I had done.

He watched me. He hesitated. Clearly, it was a bigger request than I knew. Finally, he said, "All right. On Sunday, it's yours. If you'll come back."

Was I really doing this? Again? I chewed on my lip. "Not this weekend," I finally told him. "The following one. I have to work at the lab this Saturday and Sunday."

"Nine days from now?" he asked. "Unacceptable, Miss Conway."

"I didn’t intend to see you again. I made plans to keep myself busy."

"Then I need to have you before you leave."

He stood and pulled me to my feet. When he leaned in to kiss me, I couldn't help but respond, my lips moving against his. One hand rested on my hip. The other went into my hair, pulling me closer. His tongue was in my mouth and he gripped a handful of my skirt. I pressed into him, every part of my body responding.

He drew back. "Yes?"

"Yes," I agreed way too quickly.

He gave me an intense, expectant look. "Take off your panties and give them to me." I didn't move. I only looked at him, wide-eyed, for a moment. "You're still adorable when you're shocked," he added.

I reached up under my skirt without revealing more than a little extra leg and hooked my thumbs in the waist band of my panties: white cotton bikinis. It's what I usually wore unless I was meeting rich business moguls in penthouse apartments for pre-arranged sex. I slid them down my legs and handed them.

He lifted his eyebrows when he looked at them. "I didn't think you would see them," I whispered by way of an explanation.

"Turn around," he told me, his voice gruff. "Bend over the table." I obeyed. "Palms flat down. Spread your legs." He turned a vulnerable position into something even more exposed.

He lifted my dress over my hips. He caressed my backside. Then, I felt him slide down my body and his teeth scraped my skin there. It was almost painful, but my body liked it. He bit me again, not really taking the skin in his mouth but letting his teeth scratch my cheek. I gasped at the sensation.

His fingers tested me, parting me and circling me with two fingers. There was a whimper in my breathing. "Be silent," he said. "Not a sound or I'll gag you." His threat sent a surge of electric to my sex.

He stood. I heard the rip of his zipper and the tear of a condom. He handled my thighs, pressing them wider. He nudged me in the right spot, at the right angle. Before I could really ready myself, he thrust hard and sure into me. I let out a huff of air.

He exited and pounded back into me hard. And again. Jarring me. I quickened around him, like my body had been waiting for this. He set up a hard, steady rhythm, like a piston; I pressed my palms into the table. By fractions, he escalated in tempo. I lifted a knee onto the table to get a better angle. He took me harder and I pushed back against him.

"That's right. Baby." His voice was a low, tense growl. He grabbed a handful of my hair at the crown and pulled my head back a little. At the same time, he pressed a hand at the small of my back arching me. He went harder and faster. "Come for me."

The way he pulled my back and the force of his thrust gave him the perfect angle and, in less than thirty seconds, I clenched into orgasm. I gripped my hands into tight fists, to fight the need to cry out. My fingernails bit into my palms, the pain making the pleasure last just that little bit more. His thrusts took on a determined pace. Before my climax was completely finished, his hands tightened on my thighs, he stiffened, and he plunged into me, holding himself there, shallowly thrusting. He was silent, but his pulsing inside me along with his ragged breathing, told me that he had come, too.

It was quick, hot, and satisfying. It just sent me further down the rabbit hole.

He withdrew and pulled off the condom, tying the top of it, crumpling a piece of paper around it, and putting it in his office trash. I stood, my breathing still fast. We both straightened our clothes.

"I'm keeping your panties," he informed me. My mouth fell open and I made a little sound of protest. "You object, Miss Conway?"

"I don't have so many that you can just steal from me."

I think that was the first real time I saw him smile. It was almost boyish and very charming. "I'll send you some to replace them." I flushed and looked away. He tilted my face back towards him. "Friday, I think. To remind you that you could be with me this weekend." As if I needed a reminder. "No masturbating in the meantime." I stared at him a minute. He waited for me to answer.

"I won't," I finally said.

He brought his hand to my face again and drew a thumb across my lips. "I won't either. We'll both be in quite a state. I'll need your mouth immediately." My breath came out in a shaky huff. "Is that okay?" he asked in a teasing way.

"Yes, Sir," I replied.

He closed his eyes and then opened them. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good."

"I really should go."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" His lips brushed mine very gently.

I hurried to my car, wondering what on earth I had just agreed to. Had I just been taken on a table in a man's office? The same man who still had my underwear? And who the hell was I?

#

A package waited for me outside of my apartment when I got home on Friday. It was small and the return address was the Stillet building, so I knew who it was from. And I knew what it was.

I opened it in my kitchen. There were three pair of the cotton bikini underwear--same brand and size as the ones he had taken from me--and three pair of some lacy, silky pairs that had clearly been purchased at an expensive boutique somewhere. There wasn't any note or communication, other than the obvious suggestion that I wear sexier panties.

I will admit that the next six days felt endless. I worked every one of them in the lab. On Tuesday I made an appointment with Mr. Sterling for Friday.

"He said you would be calling," Ali said. "He asked me to leave his five o'clock appointment open for you. Will that work?"

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

I didn't think abstaining from masturbation was going to be so difficult. Usually, I was a once-every-couple-of-weeks kind of girl. But when I thought about Mr. Sterling, his office, the gift of lingerie, or the coming weekend, I had a surge of arousal that was distracting. With no way to take care of it, it stayed distracting, which I'm sure was what he intended.

When Friday came, I was a nervous wreck. I shouldn't even have gone to work but I didn't see any point in hanging around my apartment all day waiting for five o'clock to come. At four, after staring at invoices for over an hour, I said good night, went to the bathroom, put on one of my modest, dark dresses, and headed for my car.

I arrived on the twenty-third floor of the Stillet building ten minutes early. The receptionist led through the usual corridors. Ali wasn't at her desk. Mr. Sterling stood when I entered. "It's a pleasure to see you, Miss Conway."

"It's good to see you, too," I said.

The receptionist backed out, closing the door behind her. Mr. Sterling didn't ask me to sit, so I stood. "So I have you for the whole weekend?" he asked, his expression hot but his voice controlled. "You're staying until Sunday evening?"

"Yes."

"Have you had dinner?"

That was a curious question; I imagined we were both focused on sex, not food. "No."

"Then, let's get you upstairs and dressed so we can go out."

To the best of my knowledge, I already was dressed but I let him usher me to the elevator. We rode in silence, on opposite sides, up to his penthouse and he guided me inside, closing the door behind me. He led me up one of the curving staircases to the second floor and opened the second door we came to, which based on previous experience was his bedroom. It looked exactly as I remembered, except there was a second bed--much smaller than his King sized--moved into the corner.

"Take off your panties," he instructed.

I flushed, stripping them in much the same way as I had in his office nine days before. They were the lacy ones that he had sent me.

"Good choice, Miss Conway," he said, taking them and tucking them in a pocket.

He rummaged through a drawer in his dresser and came up with some strange device I had never seen before.

At first glance, it looked like a black thong. At second glance, it had something in the crotch that looked like a rubberized shrimp.

Mr. Sterling looked very amused at my expression. "I'm going to help you put these on," he said. Then, he uncharacteristically knelt in front of me. He helped me step into the thong and pulled it up over my hips until the rubber section pressed into me. He spread me with his thumbs until the rubber sat flush against my sex; there was some kind of lubricant on it. Then, he took my panties out of his coat pocket and put them on over the thong.

At that point, I was very perplexed.

He stood and pulled what looked like a black stereo remote out of his coat pocket. "This," he said, nodding at the remote, "Controls that," he said, nodding at my midsection.

He popped the button; the vibration shivered through me, "Oh," I gasped, reaching out to steady myself on the wall.

He stepped up very close to me, almost touching me. "I can make it more intense," he said, showing me a button, then holding it. The vibration grew stronger and I took a shuddery breath. "Or less intense," he said. The stimulation decreased until it was barely there. I wanted to press into it. He turned it off, tucked the remote into a pocket, and twined his fingers in my hair, kissing me gently.

"You made me wait three weeks," he said, trailing his lips from my mouth to my ear. "You declined an invitation I made to you." His mouth played with my earlobe. "You're not going to come tonight. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Somehow, by telling me I couldn't have it, my need for climax doubled.

"You must be very discreet while we're out," he said. "Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes."

"And tell me if you think you're going to come?"

"I will."

"Good girl."

He turned and took a box off of his dresser. "And since your leather collar would cause quite a stir at the restaurant, I got this for when we're out." It was a silver choker--a single, shining band about an inch in width. He closed it around my neck and the metal warmed to my skin. "There. You're dressed."

He put a hand on my back and led me out of his penthouse.

#

If being collared with a vibrator between my legs while out in public hadn't been strange enough, we went to one of the trendiest restaurants in the city and we arrived in a foundation-driven car. When we stepped inside, a hostess hurried over to us.

"Mr. Sterling, would you like your usual private table?"

He smiled and looked at me. "No. I think we'd like to sit in the main room. I have a reservation."

"Very good," she said, leading us inside.

The main room was quiet and dim with low conversations going on all around. It was going to be hard be discreet here, as I'm sure he already knew. I bit my lip as I took my seat.

"You look more nervous than usual," he teased.

"I'm concerned I'm going to embarrass us."

"No, you're not."

The vibration started and it was still on the very low setting. It didn't jolt me and it wasn't too hard to hide my arousal. You couldn't hear the vibrator at all.

"You can handle that," he said. The speed turned up a little. "And that, too." He let it run for a few seconds and then turned it off when he saw the waiter approaching. Luckily, the waiter looked to him for the drink order.

When he left, Mr. Sterling said, "I'm going to ask you some questions. Look at me when you answer. If you look away, I'll turn the vibrator on."

The heat flew to my face. I tried to focus on looking at him.

"How do you feel about being spanked?"

I hadn't ever considered it before. The thought of it brought me nervousness and arousal in equal measure, like most of his suggestions. "I don't know."

"Have you ever been struck?"

"No."

"Not even when you were young?"

"No."

He cocked his head, his expression unreadable. "It's something I very much enjoy. Would you be willing to try it in the future?"

"If you enjoy it, I would try it for you."

He closed his eyes in that characteristic look of pleasure and the vibrator sprung to life. He turned it up a bit and I had to breathe through the stimulation.

"I didn't look away," I whispered.

"No. I just liked your answer."

He left it on while the waiter delivered our drinks. I reached for my martini immediately.

A few seconds later--after maybe thirty seconds total--he turned it off. I hoped nobody noticed that I was breathing fast. He did all of the ordering and I couldn't even say what he got us. When the waiter left, he turned his attention back to me.

"Now that you've experienced it, how do you feel about being bound?" he asked.

"It makes me very nervous. There is a little panic," I admitted, looking away. Immediately the vibrator started. I quickly looked back at him but he didn't turn it off.

"Only fear?" he asked. Like nothing unusual was happening to me.

"No, not just fear. It's very arousing, being that helpless."

The vibrator turned up a fraction more. Now it was more than distracting. Even though the device was so large that it stimulated the whole area, my arousal started to climb. A few seconds later, he turned it off; our salads had arrived.

He let me eat in peace. After that, the waiter brought a little cheese plate. It wasn't until we finished that and were waiting for our main course that he asked me another question.

"Have you ever had anal sex?"

I didn't look away from him. I froze altogether except the slack in my jaw. For a good ten seconds, I couldn't manage a sound.

His expression was completely readable and completely amused. "I'll take that as a no."

"Do you want to?" I couldn't keep the concern out of my voice.

"Not this weekend." He leveled a long look at me. "I was just trying to get an idea of your level of experience. Your skill at giving a blow job threw me."

I flushed and looked away. Promptly, the vibrator started. I pressed my palm against the table until I was sure I could speak. I met his eyes, but he left the thing on again. "I had a boyfriend who really liked them so I tried to figure out how to do them better."

"How?"

"Reading about it. Watching porn online. It wasn't hard to tell when I did something he liked."

He turned up the vibrator and I stifled my gasp. "Is it hard to tell when you do something I like?"

"No. You make it clear," I said breathlessly.

That slow steady rise to orgasm resumed. I tried to control it but with the conversation, it was almost impossible. I saw the waiter approaching and the vibrator cut off. I had another twenty minutes of peace while we ate the fish that he had ordered for us.

The waiter came to clear our plates. "Can I get you coffee or dessert?" he asked.

Mr. Sterling looked at me. "Yes. I think, both."

"Very good." He hurried away.

Mr. Sterling spoke in a very low voice. "How would you feel if I told you that I wanted your mouth in a public place?"

I flushed again and looked away. He was so quick with the vibrator, I wasn't sure that the question wasn't designed to trigger my shyness. I was getting close to orgasm but before I could say anything, the waiter was back with the coffee and a dessert tray. Mr. Sterling didn't turn off the vibrator this time. I was left wondering if he or the waiter could hear the faint buzz.

The coffee was poured and all of the dessert described as I climbed. Mr. Sterling turned to me, his expression unreadable again. "Choose a dessert, Rachel."

I picked one, not even really paying attention to which one and willed the waiter to leave. When he did, I whispered, "Please, Mr. Sterling. I'm going to come."

He turned off the vibrator. "So, sex in public? Again, not this weekend."

"We'll get arrested."

"Not if we're careful. Like we are now."

I looked away but he didn't resume the stimulation. "I would try," I finally said. He looked more than pleased. He looked carnal.

The waiter came with our desserts. We both finished quickly. He whispered something to the waiter and then said, "We're leaving."

The tension in the car was ridiculous. We sat properly but his eyes just traced my length, lingering on my legs this time. He didn’t turn the vibrator on again, thankfully. He ushered me at a trot through the lobby of his building and into the elevator, where we kept a practiced distance from one another.

He closed the door of his penthouse behind us. Then, he took my hand and led me up to the bedroom. "I really want to take you," he said, pulling my dress off over my head. "But you'll orgasm and we can't have that."

He took off all of the rest of my clothes, including the strange thong, and replaced my panties, patting my backside once. Then he produced those leather cuffs again and restrained my hands behind my back. He took off the metal collar and replaced it with the leather one.

"There's my girl." He gave me a long heated look. I had a deep feeling of pride at being called his, the strength of which left me a little concerned. "Kneel," he instructed.

I did. As I sat there, he took off his jacket and his shirt. He emptied his pockets on a table and took off his pants. When he took off his underwear, he was fully erect.

"I need your mouth," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. I crawled to him awkwardly. He lifted my head before I could start. "How do you stop me when I'm in your mouth?"

"I snap my fingers."

"And how do you stop me otherwise?"

"I say, 'Phillip, please stop.'."

"Go ahead; go slow."

I used my tongue on him first, licking from the underside to the tip. I did it a second time, managing to catch his scrotum with the tip of my tongue. His hands went into my hair. I worked on the tip with just my tongue in long lush strokes; he flexed under me and moaned. Since he liked it, I kept up with the same motion. Seeing him swell even more sent a surge of pleasure through me and I made a little sound. His hands tightened in my hair.

"Take me in your mouth," he commanded, his voice gruff and strained.

I opened my mouth as much as I could and breathed hot breath on him as I covered his penis with my mouth without touching it. He was almost too large for that trick but not quite. I closed my lips around him as close to the base as I could and heard his answering moan. Slowly, I drew him out of my mouth, sucking, letting my lips drag softly over the tip.

"Oh, Fuck," he gasped.

I did get a thrill from that. He was so controlled, I knew I did something right. I kept my pace slow, my mouth wet, and lips soft. Even though he had handfuls of my hair, he didn't make me move in any particular way, so I kept up the same slow rhythm for a couple of minutes.

"More," he commanded.

I tightened my lips and gave him more friction. I increased my pace a miniscule amount. I sucked a little harder. He flexed under me. His hands urged me and I let him guide me. He didn't need to tell me he was going to come, this time. He got a harder and his movements became less rhythmic. He pressed on my head a little more firmly; I didn't resist. In seconds, he shuddered into me, moaning louder than he had before, and I swallowed it all.

I sat back. His head was back and he was breathing hard. It took him a few seconds before he looked at me. He leaned forward and brushed my hair out of my face. "Your mouth is so sweet."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You look very tired," he said, cocking his head at me. "Come here," he ordered, gesturing to the floor between his legs. "Face away from me."

I did and he unhooked my wrists. The cuffs remained in place but they didn't restrain me. Then, like he had before, he rubbed my neck and jaw until the aching stopped.

"You'll sleep in here, in that bed," he said. I couldn't see him but I knew it was the small bed I had noticed earlier. "You'll wear what you're wearing now." Which was my panties. "You'll be chained to the bed," he said. That made my heart stutter.

He stood, helping me to my feet. Then, he went to his bedside table, withdrew a chain from the drawer, clipped one end of it to my collar, and used it to lead me to the bed. When we reached the small bed, he clipped the other end around the leg of the bed. I couldn't move around more than a couple of feet.

"Sleep now," he told me.

I closed my eyes obediently but opened them again when I heard him moving around the room. He retrieved a robe from his closet and left the bedroom. It took me a while to drift off after that.

#

I woke the following morning in much the same way as I had the previous time I stayed. He was sitting in a chair, fully dressed, looking at me with a contemplative expression. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"No running off this time," he said.

I flushed. "No."

"Breakfast?"

"Please."

He stood and came over to me, unclipping the chain from my collar, hooking his finger in the loop of metal under my chin. He didn't offer me any clothes, so I followed him feeling exceptionally vulnerable. He pulled me down the steps and through a set of double doors on the first floor. There was a small table with food already on it.

"Sit," he said. I obeyed.

The coffee was delicious. The breakfast quiche was too, which was good because I was distracted by the fact that I was eating practically naked. He watched me, not saying anything, his guarded expression on display.

Finally, when I was fed, he said. "I would like to go out. I had your dress laundered."

"Thank you."

"I want you to wear the vibrator again."

I flushed. "Of course."

He gave me a long look. "I'm not going to let you come today, either."

Ironically, I clenched and throbbed in response to his words. My breath quickened.

"Go get dressed," he said. "Clothes are on the chair in my bedroom. Your collar is in my bedside table. The vibrator is in my upper left hand drawer of my dresser with the remote. Bring me the remote when you come down."

"Yes, Sir," I whispered.

His reserve melted in a moment and he just looked hungry. I hurried up to his room and dressed as he told me to do. My hair was tossed and I did my best to smooth it. My lips and cheeks were pink. Finally, I grabbed the remote, slipped into my heels, and hurried down the stairs. He stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me. I handed him the remote when I was still three steps above him.

"Turn around," he instructed. "Bend over at the waist and spread your legs." I did as he told me and he slid my dress up over my hips. His fingers checked me, running around the edge of the vibrator. "Very nice," he said. He turned it on a low pace. I whimpered.

"Remember," he said, his hands moving to my backside, his fingers scraping the skin, "be discreet. Let me know if you're going to come."

"I will."

We spent the day buying things. He purchased a car of some luxury variety and had it sent one of his other houses. He bought a boat as a gift to someone. He got a beautiful antique pen and had it wrapped to bring home with us. In between purchases, he played with the vibrator in the car and at lunch. My tension just rose all day. He would get me very, very close then let it rest for an hour before he turned it on again. I only had to warn him once that I was going to orgasm, he was so adept at reading my even my stifled reaction.

I was in an aching, craving place by the end of the day. Mr. Sterling turned the intensity all the way down and even that was too much. He looked at me in the car on the way back to his penthouse and seemed very pleased. "You're in quite a state."

"Yes," I agreed.

"I like it. And I like that nobody knows but me."

The car let us out in front of the Stillet building and he ushered me back to the elevator and up to his place. He closed the door behind us and turned to me right away. "Take off your dress."

I quickly obeyed.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered gruffly. I went down on all fours. "Come here." I crawled to where he stood against a wall. He released his erection and looked down at me in that smoldering way that made me clench. "No hands," he said. "Just use your mouth."

I clasped my hands behind my back and heard him groan before I ever even took him into my mouth. I set up a moderate rhythm with moderate pressure, waiting for him to guide me. After a few seconds, my vibrator turned on.

I gave a long, low moan that he echoed. "If you're going to come, touch my leg," he said in a tense whisper.

But the vibration was so low that, for a few minutes, it was just maddeningly enticing. I wanted to rock against it but I didn't think he would approve. Instead, I continued to moan with my mouth around him, working him as well as I could in my distracted state. His hands were in my hair and for the first time, he moved my head. It was forceful but not rough and gave me the distinct impression of being taken.

I rose with arousal. It was tempting to let my orgasm happen, but I didn't. I whimpered when I touched his leg, like a plea, but he didn't care; he turned off the vibrator anyway, still guiding my head. Less than a minute later he came while I drew on him.

He let go of my hair and leaned, breathless, against the wall. In a moment, he zipped his slacks and helped me to my feet. He led me to the couch and knelt in front of me. "Let's get you out of these." He pulled off the panties, pulled off the thong, then replaced the panties. He tested me with a finger around the lace; I was so slick, there wasn't any friction. He removed his hand without touching me more. I wanted to sob.

"Follow me," he said, leading me back to his room. He replaced my silver collar with my leather one and placed the cuffs back on me, clipping them behind my back. Then he pulled down the cups on my bra until my breasts popped free. My nipples were taut.

"My goodness," he said. I flushed. He leaned in and sucked gently on first one then the other. Even without stimulation, I seemed to rise. I scoffed at myself but beyond a doubt, his attention to my nipples sent shocks over my sex

"I think I might come," I whispered.

He immediately stopped and I physically sagged. "You are so ready," he said, affection in his tone. "I can hardly touch you anywhere."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I love that I can do this to you." He nodded at the small bed. "Lay down. You’re going to rest for a couple of hours while I get some work done."

I was cuffed, so I laid on my stomach. He ran a hand over me as he pulled a sheet over me. He clipped the chain onto my collar; it was already fastened to the leg of the bed. Then, he turned out the lights and left. I was tired enough that even my throbbing arousal didn't keep me awake.

#

I woke to his hands on me. The room was dark and his shirt was already over a chair. He turned me over and helped me sit up. Then he brought me to his bed, unclasped my wrists, and reclasped them over my head and bound to the headboard. He slid my bra over my head and up my arms and peeled off my panties.

Already my body was in full response. I throbbed and ached. He got on the bed with me and kissed my lips gently. His hands traveled over me, skimming my curves, feeling my breasts, but not doing anything that would bring me to orgasm. It was lush and sensual and utterly frustrating. I made a completely involuntary whimpering sound.

"I know," he said, sounding almost sympathetic. "But I love seeing you like this too much to end it yet."

He traveled down to my nipples again and licked them. I arched against him and he nipped at one. I moaned but he headed to my stomach, using his tongue and using his lips until I thought I would combust.

"Do you think you can sleep like this?" he asked, his lips against my skin.

"I think so," I whispered.

"Because I intend to wake you up tonight and make sure you stay aroused."

My breath picked up. I swallowed. He kissed down my body, bit my big toe, and stopped, leaving me breathless. Then, he left the room.

The first time he woke me up was about an hour and a half after I dozed. I must have been sleeping hard because when I came to myself, he was chafing my nipples and I was already gasping at the sensation.

"Did I wake you?" he purred. He brought his mouth to me and sucked gently. It was like he was pulling the arousal from my groin to my breast. It was all just one long pleasure nerve.

I moaned and arched into him. His free hand skimmed my skin, went the length of my body, and dipped between my legs. Just a quick test of me and it was gone. Then, abruptly, he stopped all of the stimulation. I was limp and breathless.

"Go back to sleep," he instructed, smiling as he left the room.

I didn't think I could but I was so tired I actually did fall back to sleep. When he woke me two hours later, it was with his mouth on my thighs, nipping at me, licking me, making a promise I knew he wasn't going to keep.

"Open your legs," he said in a patient voice. My eyes weren't even really open when I complied.

He tested me with another finger and teased me with the tip of his tongue until I was vocalizing with pleading breaths. Then he stopped and all the air left me.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

The third time he woke me, it was with his lips on mine. I didn't know how much more of this I could really take. My body didn't get the chance to relax; nor did it get the release it needed. He laid on top of me, both of us naked, his erection hard against my thigh.

He pressed it into my leg. "Do you want that?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Ask for it."

I flushed and froze. "Ask?" I managed.

"Yes. Politely." I was throbbing, aching, and overwhelmed.

"Would you please take me, Mr. Sterling?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you want. You'll need to be more explicit." There was teasing in his tone. He had to know how hard this was going to be for me.

"Would you please have sex with me?"

"I would be happy to have your mouth again." I made a little frustrated sound. "No? Something else you want?"

I tried again. "I would like to feel you inside me. Would you please?"

He made a sound like he had just eaten something delicious. "That's nicer. Is that how you'd like to come, when I finally let you? With me inside you?"

"Yes," I breathed.

He nudged me with his penis, almost entering me. But I hadn't heard the rip of the condom, so I didn't have any real faith that he would actually take me. Plus, he still had that teasing quality in his voice. That didn't stop me from tilting my hips, though. I heard his answering chuckle.

"Poor girl," he said, kissing me. "So wanting and no relief." He sat up off of me. "Sleep, Baby."

I think I only really slept for a couple of hours at a stretch that night. When I woke, I was still aroused and wanting. He was, as always, dressed and watching me. I was still bound to his bed and naked.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning."

My heart started to pound harder. I was barely awake and already responding to him.

"Breakfast?" he asked.

"Please," I whispered.

He unclasped my wrists and left them free. My shoulders were a little stiff. He hooked his finger in the ring under my chin and led me back down to the little dining room we had eaten in the day before. This morning, he served fruit and croissants.

When we were finished, he said, "Come here."

I knelt in front of him and he lifted my face. "I've been enjoying your distress very much, but I think I've teased us both enough."

"Thank you," I whispered.

His eyes closed. He opened them and they blazed. "Come with me."

He led me up the steps and through the third door, which turned out to be an enormous bathroom. He stripped, leaving my cuff and collar in place, and ushered me into the shower ahead of him. He washed me with his bare hands and shampooed my hair, finally shaving my legs. Finally, he led me out of the shower, dried me off, and took me into the bedroom. "Kneel on the bed."

I did as he said.

"Knees apart."

I obeyed quickly.

He knelt on the bed in front of me and touched me gently between the legs. I whimpered. He inserted two fingers into me and I clenched around him with a gasp. He smiled. Then he started rubbing me in a rhythm. It was with purpose. I started to rise immediately.

"Mr. Sterling," I gasped. "I'm going to come."

"Go ahead, Baby. You've earned it."

There was no way to describe that orgasm except shattering. My whole body shook. My legs widened so far that I nearly went into a split, something I'd never been flexible enough to do. I vocalized more than I ever did; I'm very sure that his arm around my waist was holding me up. I clasped my fingers behind my back so tightly that they ached.

He eased me onto my back while I caught my breath. I heard the foil rip; his entry was deliciously harsh. I was laying on my bound arms, which hurt but also tilted my hips up to him like an offering. He took me very hard and very fast. I quickened again and before I knew it I was clenching him in another orgasm. In fact, as long as he took me with force, I kept rising and clenching, spending the terrible tension that had been building all weekend.

He stopped and withdrew before he came and turned me over on my knees. He entered me again, using my bound arms as leverage, pulling me against him. It was a steady, firm rhythm that went on for minutes. I felt so full; it felt so good. "Yes," I moaned.

"That's right, Baby. I love it when you can't keep quiet."

"Please..."

"What do you want?" he reached around me, touching me, stimulating me directly. "This?"

"Oh, God yes."

"Let me hear you."

He rode me while I gasped and moaned, writhing against his hand. I rose to orgasm quickly, crying out and clenching around him. He came seconds later, thrusting and holding himself there until he was done.

He fell on the bed next to me where I collapsed on my front. Then, he unclasped my wrists and rubbed my sore shoulders with one hand. I closed my eyes and turned my head, letting my tension go. It was the most amazing afterglow I'd ever experienced. I was completely exhausted and my sexual tension was spent. It left me wanting to sleep.

"Not yet," he said in a gentle voice. My eyes opened. "I want you one more time before you fall asleep."

I rolled over on my back; he was already stirring. He brought my cuffed but unbound hand to his organ and I stroked it until it was hard. He rolled onto me, reaching around on the bedside table and ripping the condom open. I opened my legs so he had all the access he could want.

Sex lasted for much longer this time. I moved under him, liking how he filled me, liking how he took me. My hands weren't bound so I laid them palm up by my head, like I was at gunpoint. His heated approval showed me that he liked it.

My climax was a slow, steady rise and crashed over me, stronger than any I'd ever had from penetration alone. He hardened and stiffened soon after, finishing in a gruff groan. He fell on top of me and withdrew. For a moment, he just lay there, skin to skin with me. I didn’t touch him, even though I could have.

"I've had a really wonderful weekend," he breathed in my ear.

"It started out frustrating for me but improved."

He chuckled and rolled off of me. "Rest now. I kept you up half the night and we both have to work tomorrow. I'll wake you up this afternoon."

"Thank you."

I rolled over onto my stomach onto a cool part of the bed. I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander to everything we had done that weekend. And before long, I fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

#

"It's four o'clock."

There was a hand on my bare shoulder. For a moment I didn't know where I was or if it was four AM or PM. But it came back to me quickly. I was naked on Mr. Sterling's bed. Our weekend was just about over. There was a strange feeling of disappointment.

I looked up at him. "I should get dressed."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, already in slacks and a sweater, and unbuckled the cuffs on my wrists, snapping them together at the chain. He unbuckled my collar and put it in his pocket. "It will be quiet without you here tonight."

"I would stay longer but I have to get ready for work."

"Of course." He backed out of the room. "Your clothes are there. Come down when you're ready."

I got dressed and tidied my hair, which had air dried while I slept. I stepped into my heels. I walked down the steps and he stood waiting for me with a glass of wine. I accepted it.

"You might feel depressed tomorrow. It happens sometimes after an intense, prolonged session like this."

"Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me, if you need to."

"I'll be okay." I sipped my wine. I was already depressed. Is was so unexpected I didn’t know what to do with it.

I had looked away. He tilted my face towards him. "Don't make me wait another three weeks." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather collar. He reached into another one and pulled out the silver band. He held out both to me with a curious expression. "Which one do you want?"

I hesitated. I had intended to take the leather one, but my eyes strayed to the silver. I nodded towards it. Mr. Sterling tucked the leather one back in his pocket and stepped forward and fastening the silver one around my neck.

"Are you going to leave it on?" he asked.

"Probably." Again, I flushed.

His eyes were dark and his expression intense. "Think about how I could tempt you into making this a more permanent arrangement. I didn't do half of what I wanted to."

I shivered but it was a delicious feeling. I laid my wine glass aside and picked up my bag. "Permanent?" I asked him.

"Where you come to me every Friday."

"I'll think about it." I backed to the door, knowing that I would. "Thank you for an unforgettable weekend, Mr. Sterling."

"You're welcome, Miss Conway. Likewise."

I hurried to my car a tangle of emotion. Wishing I didn't have to go and berating myself for feeling that way. But as I drove, I touched my collar and remembered how he placed it around my neck. It made me feel better.