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Brigitte's wild vacation story.

.. but I just say, "You want this as much as I do. Just show up tonight. My address is in your files." Then I turn and walk out, knowing I'll see him at my door later that night.

And I do.

I let him in, and it starts all over, just like that first time in his office. We fuck until we can't see straight. We fuck in every room of the house. We fuck in the middle of the backyard. Then we fuck some more. We just can't get enough. We're sore and tired, but we just can't seem to stop for anything. We know now that we're totally enslaved by this monster passion that nothing can explain.

As time goes on, we begin to share our twisted little fantasies. One night he shows up with a riding crop and a pair of metal handcuffs. I've never done this before, and never wanted to, but the thought of him bound and helpless, completely at my mercy, is more than I can stand.

I cuff him to the brass headboard. He's naked and trembling, his eyes are glazed. He stares fixedly at the riding crop in my hand, waiting to see what I'll do next. His cock is as hard as it can get, a drop of fluid sitting on the tip.

I'm still fully dressed in conservative office clothes. I walk slowly, deliberately around the end of the bed and back, looking at him, savoring his weakness and obvious desire.

All he can do is wait. His breathing is uneven. His eyes still follow me as I walk. I order him to lie on his back and spread his legs. He does.

I climb onto the bed, kneeling beside him. Our eyes meet, his lips part as he tries to speak. He wants me to do something, anything.

"Not a sound from you ... " I say, while firmly, but caressingly, trailing the riding crop up his leg towards his balls.

"Pretend we're in your office, and there are people in the next room." He closes his eyes, swallows hard, and opens them again. Oh, he wants to beg, I can see it in his eyes, but he won't dare say a word. His breathing is much more erratic now.

Without warning, I raise the riding crop and bring it down on the inside of his thigh, just hard enough to make a little red stripe on his skin. He moans loudly through clenched teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. The cuffs rattle as his body grows taut. His spread legs are trembling.

"Oh, I think that hurt. Want me to stop?" I ask him. Eyes still closed, he vigorously shakes his head no.

I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would. I move closer to him on the bed, leaning over him. "If only your other employees could see you right now ... " I bring the crop down again, same spot, but harder this time. He bucks a bit, and moans again. The stripe this time is darker.

Now I run the tip of the crop over his balls, and I feel an evil delight as I watch them roll, contract, expand again inside his scrotum. He makes a liitle sound that's not quite a word.

I move the crop away, down his leg, then suddenly sting his balls with the tip of it. No moan from him this time, but a huge gasp. His cock is dribbling now, I think he's getting close to orgasm. It hasn't taken long.

Now I lean right into his face, making him look at me. "How hard do you want me to hit you?" I whisper. He stares up at me, his eyes wild, saying nothing, but breathing hard.

"Harder than I hit you just now?" He shakes his head yes.

"How much harder? A little, or a lot?" He looks at me, his eyes pleading. A tear runs down his face. He's past the point of no return - at this moment, he's all mine. And he knows it.

I lock my eyes to his, studying his expression. "You want me to make you bleed, don't you?" His eyes glisten with tears now, and I know from the way he looks at me that the answer is yes. I raise the crop, knowing that this time, I'll be drawing more than just blood. I bring it down on his inner thigh, close to where I hit him before. He moans again, teeth clenched. A welt rises on his skin. I hit him again. Louder moan, bigger welt.

"I wish everyone at work could see you like this!" I spit at him.

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