CHAPTER 4
Shuddering with the absolute need to cum, the machine swirling on his cock not giving him even a second’s pause from the denying torment, Mike turned his head when he noticed the sound of heels clicking on the floor.
His eyes went wide as he saw both Sandy and Maria enter, wearing skimpy, lacy underwear and high heels – and nothing else – followed by Jen, wearing a new set of lingerie.
Sandy had an itty-bitty black top the fabric of which only barely climbed high enough on her bounteous mounds to obscure her nipples – in fact the upper third of her areola was exposed – with a matching pair of panties that hugged her so tight the elastics would definitely leave marks on her thighs. Maria’s outfit was not any more prudent, yet the cups of her bra were fuller and pushing her breasts together to give her maximum cleavage. The redhead Jen now sported a matching set of midnight blue bra and panties that, while covering her bits, did so only partially, as the underwear was partially translucent.
The three of them took up position in front of Mike, Maria in the centre, with Jen and Sandy flanking her on either side.
Hands on her hips, Maria’s brown eyes positively glinted, and he had never seen such a look of self-righteousness and pleasure on her face before. Sandy, on the other hand, looked a little out of place. Jen’s face was impassive, impossible to read.
“Remember how I said I wasn’t even considering letting you have an orgasm until you’ve been here six months?” Maria snickered, making Mike’s heart skip a beat. “One-hundred and eighty days. That’s a long time not to have an orgasm, wouldn’t you say?”
He whimpered, unable to escape the machine sucking him off, still not allowing him release.
“Sorry to say I haven’t changed my mind,” Maria stated flatly. “If anything, watching you struggle with that wonderful denial-machine of Jen’s has only strengthened my resolve. But I do have good news for you.”
A glimmer of hope flared in Mike’s soul, although his rational side – which for the moment was quelled to near nonexistence by his need to cum – was immediately suspicious.
Maria leaned over, her cleavage presented like low-hanging fruit to Mike. “I promise that, in one-hundred and eighty days, we will talk about letting you have an orgasm. That is a promise, ‘boss’.”
Her smile was evil incarnate, and her promise did nothing to alleviate Mike’s terror.
Trying to beg, bargain, anything, the gag and the constant distractions by the machine keeping him from communicating anything clearly, his incomprehensible speech only caused Maria to laugh and the corner of Jen’s mouth to rise. Sandy was looking uncomfortable.
Sandy would be his only shot at salvation here, Mike realized. Turning to face his blond secretary, he called upon all of his self-control to beg her, to show mercy, but the machine got him once more to the edge of orgasm and held him there for close to a full minute, causing his mind to fry and his concentration to evaporate.
Looking uneasy, Sandy, at length, finally spoke to Maria. “Maybe we should–“
“That’s enough out of you,” Maria snapped, pointing an accusing finger at her colleague. “I don’t want to hear it. Six months, that’s final.” The feistier of the two then turned to Jen, calming herself, reminding herself that Jen was the solution to all of Maria’s woes.
Woes not exclusively pertaining to her former boss.
“Let’s go. Keep filming him and sending the files to us. We’ll be watching closely. We’re taking a long holiday now, but we will be back in exactly half a year.”
Jen nodded, recalling the agreement the secretaries had made with her without needing to hear it refreshed. “He’ll be waiting for you,” she assured.
Dragging Sandy out, Maria cast one last glance at Mike, who was catching his breath while the machine paused, preparing to begin edging him again as soon as he was down from the precipice.
“See you in one-hundred and eighty days,” she said, emphasising the number for his added dread. “I’ll look forward to it. I’ve never seen what tease and denial for that long can do to a man.”
With a fearfully final sound, the heavy door closed shut again, leaving a hysterical Mike alone with his bonds and the machine, screaming for them not to leave him.
“Is there a problem?” Jen asked, her intonation suggesting she would brook no bullshit.
“Not at all,” Maria folded her arms, spearing a hard gaze at her younger colleague. “Right, Sandy?”
Hesitant at first, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for a voice to give words to everything she felt was wrong about the situation – and how it seemed they were sentencing Mike to a far harsher fate than what they had originally planned for him – she still wasn’t able to speak until Maria snapped, “Right, Sandy?” for a second time.
“I think this is too cruel,” her voice was hushed, but the others still heard her fine.
“If it helps,” Jen sighed, “it is too late to turn back now. You have paid for my services and he has been informed of what he has to look forward to. I never go back on promises to my prisoners. It is a policy I am not prepared to change.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Maria, speaking with a strict tone, aiming it at Sandy. “Me and my colleague will talk this through on the first of many trips we will be taking for the next half a year. I am sure – I am certain – all of her misgivings will be laid to rest before long.”
Sandy said nothing, but swallowed, feeling like she didn’t have a say in the matter anymore, and that further arguing wasn’t going to lead anywhere. At least not with Jen listening.
“Right,” Sandy said at length, but when the two of them left, Jen remained outside Mike’s cell door, squinting at them as they departed, wondering if there might be something she needed to worry about.
She decided then and there she would have to speak with Maria in private as soon as possible.
The imprisonment was far more excruciating than what he could ever have imagined. That first day upon waking up in Jen’s custody had been but a prelude to the torments that awaited him over the span of one-hundred and eighty very long, merciless days.
True to her word, Jen had “sentenced” him to either two or three sessions of pitiless tease, denial and edging every day. Some days he suffered two sessions of two hours with a random amount of break time between them. Other times he suffered three sessions of three hours each, them too with an amount of break time between each session that was always a surprise to him. They never told him.
Part of the torture was not knowing how long he had been teased for. Regardless of the session lasting three or four hours, they always felt the same: unbearable, never-ending. When the second session finished, he could never be sure he wouldn’t be collected for a third.
It added to his dread, and confounded his sense of helplessness.
Mike had no idea of the scale of Jen’s operation even though he had been in her “care” for half a year. He had only ever seen the insides of his cell, as well as three or four of the rooms where he was brought to be tortured. Any time he was moved from his cell he was taken through a network of sterile, bright hallways that all looked the same to him. None of the doors were marked, but never did his handlers seem to move randomly.
And as it turned out, Jen wasn’t alone in running this hellish prison of sexual torture. Mike had seen at least nine other women – he couldn’t be sure of the exact number, as some times when he saw people from behind as he was taken through the corridors it was difficult to say whether or not it was someone he had seen before – who had, throughout his incarceration, both moved him back and forth from his cell, or tortured his cock personally.
That it wasn’t just Jen that worked on him he had mistakenly believed to be a blessing, for how could any other woman be as horrible as her?
He had been proven dead wrong in his third day of his imprisonment when a woman in her mid-thirties with raven black tresses that cascaded down to her mid-thighs had appeared to torment him for the day. Her name was Allison and was the first of Jen’s horrible flock of torturesses to work on him, although he had gotten the displeasure to get acquainted with several more over the weeks.
And they were all every bit as relentless as Jen was. Clearly Jen knew what character traits to look for when she hired bitches for her horrible profession, so whenever Mike thought being handed over to another woman would mean he’d have an easier time with things, he was always proven wrong.
All of them were unbearably merciless, and all of them had their own unique brand of cruelty. Allison, for instance, made it part of her tease to never actually touch Mike directly. Even though she wore shiny latex gloves so as not to accidentally treat him to the feel of her bare skin on him, she never touched his cock with her hands. Instead she employed tools and toys to do her work, and she was particularly fond of feathers and small paintbrushes.
Immediately one might be prone to believing feathers and brushes wouldn’t do much, being so light and, well, feathery to the touch. But as Mike had been forced to experience, prolonged usage of soft feather tips or soft bristles directly on his cockhead and perineum was indeed capable of making him beg and plead before long. This kind of tease wasn’t really edging, but it was most assuredly denying, and over an hour or more the light touches had him beseeching for more.
Unsurprisingly, he never got more.
He recalled the first session with her with a bead of cold sweat:
Selecting her toys after introducing herself with a wicked smile – a paintbrush and a vibrator – she used them to explore his straining shaft, cockhead, balls, perineum and asshole, but before long it became clear what the woman was doing. She was learning all of Mike’s most sensitive areas, and thus how to create as much stimulation as possible with as light and short touches as possible. After a good while, feeling the fine hairs on the brush that had seemed so insignificant earlier tickle the underside of his cockhead and around the glans was enough to make his breath quicken. His cock was as hard as could be and throbbed, begging for more fulfilling touches, but the paintbrush was barely enough to keep him constantly aroused without being close to feeling good enough to get off to. The rounded tip of the vibrator alternated between drawing circles around his asshole and tickling the balls, and the two seemingly worthless toys, working in unison in an expert’s hands, made his restrained body shudder with frustration Like in any session, Mike didn’t realize he was trying to weasel his way out of his bonds until his limbs were tiring from his fruitless efforts.
After what felt like an hour, his manhood was like a fountain of pre-cum, so much so that the hairs of the brush had become too wet to work the way they were intended. Allison, who was working on his rock hard cock with clinical fascination, put the toys in her hand away, looking at his sweating, begging face and only waggled a finger at him.
“I suggest you calm down, little boy. We’ve only just begun.” Allison said matter-of-factly, and picked out two thin feathers. “And I have aaaaaall the time in the world…”
The tips of the feathers traced the rim of Mike’s cockhead on both sides, the slight touches feeling unrealistically forceful on the red and yearning tip. It was unreal how these seemingly inadequate things could make a man a slave to the sensations of his genitals, and it was all too clear that Allison was a natural at it. She worked on him ceaselessly, one feather always working the tip whilst another at times drew lines up and down the shaft, licked at his tight ballsack and teasing his ass. Over time, Mike’s entire body was coated in sweat, and his groans became less and less masculine as they grew more and more pathetic and desperate.
All through it, Allison was enjoying herself very much. They did not often have male prisoners in this facility, but she was by no means a stranger to working on a man’s love rod. And a man, she’d always say, was far better to tease and deny than a woman, for a man would eventually achieve a level of desperation to orgasm that a woman just couldn’t match. She had but worked on this cock for three hours now, and while she wanted to keep at it for hours more – after all, the longer the tease the sweeter and grander it was – the schedule had to be respected.
“Do you wanna cum, little boy?” she asked casually after a little while, her voice almost absent while one feather-tip kept relentlessly tickling his frenulum and the other worked the sweet spot she’d found on the underside of his balls. His grunts couldn’t be interpreted as anything but affirming.
“Are you sure?” she leaned closer, her face almost touching his dick. She lined her mouth up with the leaking cockhead, far enough away that her lips wouldn’t touch it even though my cock pulsed all over the place, but still close enough that he felt the full force of her hot, moist breath.
Desperation clear in his groans, he conveyed his burning wish as well as the gag would allow, every muscle in his body straining against the accursed bonds holding him down.
“Well, even if you want to cum that badly…” the tip of her tongue just missed the cockhead when it licked by, before she stood up properly again. “I can assure you, in my company, your brain will come out of your dick before any cum does.”
Shuddering at the memory, considering how Allison hadn’t gotten any less proficient at torturing him the more she did it, he also could not fail to consider how the other women in this hellish place operated.
Like Allison with her specialties, other torturesses favoured other toys, like the machine Jen had used on him that first day, and over the weeks and months, his cock had been placed in an assortment of them, each more devilish than the next. Other women, again, preferred only to use their bodies, giving expert handjobs, masterful blowjobs and heavenly titjobs to repeatedly bring him to the edge, but never once get him off.
He had never seen any other prisoners, but he knew they were there. But since all the doors in the hallways were identical it was impossible to identify which were cells and which were “playrooms”. He had heard people in passing, however, faded, muted sounds of protests emanating either on the other side of his heavy cell door, or through the unreachable vents in the ceiling.
His cell was less like a cell and more like an apartment, but a cell it remained. The room was some twelve by twelve feet, furnished with a bed, a refrigerator, a bookshelf, a TV, a table and a chair. A door on the opposite side of the entrance led to a small bathroom with a sink, a toilet and a shower-nozzle mounted directly on the wall. The refrigerator was always kept stocked with food and drink, yet whoever stocked it only did so when Mike was out of his cell enduring his current session of torment.
The bookshelf, while giving him an assortment of reading materials, consisted only of bondage-related books and magazines, all of them femdom-oriented and graphic.
The flat-screen TV was the worst thing in his room by far, which was why it was mounted on the wall behind a protective screen of crystal clear, bulletproof glass. While he could switch channels at will, having a wide selection with which to pass the time, every ten minutes the screen switched to channel 00, at which point the remote no longer worked. Channel 00 then proceeded to show, for five minutes, footage from – it seemed – a randomly selected session where Mike’s cock was being played with by one of his captors.
It was impossible to change channels, switch the TV off or lower the volume when it switched to channel 00, and after five minutes of filling the cell with Mike’s own howls of denial, the TV switched back to whatever he had been originally watching. But then after another ten minutes, channel 00 appeared again.
Keeping the TV off did not help. Every ten minutes it switched on, turning to channel 00, showed the allotted five minutes of footage of pitiless edging torture, before switching off again. The TV did this all the time except when he was allowed to sleep, which he supposed was sometime after eleven in the evening. Not having seen a clock or the outside world for so long was part of the torture, but he was always informed when another day had dawned.
Initially, at the first day of his capture, Mike had mistakenly believed he’d be able to jack himself off in his cell once they left him alone, however, Jen had insurance against that as well.
Before being dropped off in his cell, his handlers always attached what they referred to as the “frustrator” on Mike. It was a strange, black, rigid plastic thing that could best be described as an oddly shaped, firm pair of boxers that made a protruding cone at the front, and pressed in between the ass cheeks behind. It was locked in place around him with a tiny digital keypad on the left hip, and trying to take it off yielded nothing.
The main feature of these strange plastic underpants, however, was not merely to keep him from being able to access his genitals. Inside the undies, pressing against his cock, balls and asshole were what felt like flexible, soft rubbery fingers, and when the plastic piece of clothing sensed movement – such as walking, sitting up or sitting down – the fingers began to vibrate. It felt good, real good, which caused him to get erect if he wasn’t already, the tip of the cock pushing against more fingers as it grew into the coned front. It had been clear from the start that the vibrations weren’t powerful enough to make him cum, however the vibrating fingers were more than enough to keep him erect and horny.
The keypad on the side was literally the key to getting the frustrator off, and even though Mike hadn’t a clue as to what the code was, he gave it a shot anyway the first time he’d been left alone in the cell. And he was immediately rewarded by getting his cock shocked, which in turn made him yelp and fall over, which in turn made the underwear vibrate even more. The pain was mild, but definitely enough to sting at length, causing him to reconsider trying a different combination.
It was perfectly maddening to only have the frustrator and the TV that always turned itself to channel 00 to look forward to between sessions. Even if he’d been edged so perfectly he’d been hanging on the precipice of orgasm for long enough to nearly cause his heart to fail, the frustrator was never enough to get him off. Jumping around to make it vibrate more didn’t help, for it never vibrated hard enough to do anything but keep him hard. Trying to thrust into it did nothing, for the hard plastic casing of the frustrator and the tight fit around his hips and thighs meant there was no way to get his cock to move inside it.
Working with channel 00 and the femdom bondage literature, Jen and her demonic brood managed to tease and deny him even when he was alone in his cell.
His only other plan to try to get away had been to fight when they came for him in his cell to take him to his next session. However, the few times Mike had acted and tried to overpower the women that were collecting him, they had simply pressed a button on a small remote – held in their hands at the ready – to shock his dick, and they could do it hard enough to incapacitate him if that was what they needed in order to restrain him and take him to his appointment.
Sometimes when he thought he was able to take his captors by surprise, he never got far before the pain in his dick dropped him on the floor. He had learned that even if the women nearest to him weren’t able to hit the shock button, those who kept an eye on him through the countless CCTV cameras were also armed with the same button, able to render assistance to their colleagues immediately.
And so he was forced to play by Jen’s rules, incapable of doing anything but be enslaved to the yearning sensations of his manhood which always brought him to the brink of madness in every session.
But this morning had been different from all the other hellish mornings.
Jen had come to collect him personally. She hadn’t worked on him for weeks. She told him today marked one-hundred and eighty days since his imprisonment here, and that there would be two sessions today.
Mike barely managed to keep himself from breaking down with tears of joy. It had been months since his last attempt at escape, and while he had grown to genuinely fear Jen and her ilk for their skills and their mercilessness, he wanted to keep whatever dignity he had left by not snivelling any more than he had to before them.
What immediately made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in alarm was the fact that Jen flat out told him how many sessions he would have to suffer today. They never did that. They wanted him to guess, to be unsure, to not know.
Still, he nearly smiled when he was strapped down on a Y-shaped table in one of the torture rooms, his legs spread, his arms fastened down the sides of his torso. As his mouth was forced open by the ball-gag getting shoved inside, Mike reminded himself over and over that at long last, it was nearly at an end. He just had to suffer through two more unbearable sessions of edging and denial.
Once Mike was secured, gagged and a tight rubbery ring had been attached around his cock and balls, Jen – wearing a matching set of blood-red lingerie with stockings and heels for the occasion – instead of getting to work on his cock – already rock-hard due to the vibrations of the frustrator she had just taken off him – walked over to the cell door.
Opening it, she said “He’s ready for you, now,” and stepped aside, letting Sandy and Maria walk in.
His breath caught in his throat, not knowing what to make of the situation. He had not seen his former secretaries until that day – one-hundred and eighty days ago – when they had left him here, and the reunion was anything but jubilant for his part.
While he wasn’t exactly scared of them, seeing them made trepidation grow within him, as a part of him still could not believe just how twisted his former secretaries had turned out to be, since they had condemned him to this place out of the blue.
The two of them looked like they indeed had, as they said they would, been spending some time away on vacation, as both of them had beautiful bronze tans on their otherwise very Caucasian appearances.
Maria, wearing lacy black underwear that pushed her significant bust up and together, wore a wicked grin on her crimson-lips that sent chills up and down Mike’s spine.
Sandy, having at some recent point touched her roots up to once more appear like blond was her natural colour, wore a matching set of lingerie to Maria’s, except the younger secretary’s underwear was an enchanting colour of forest green. Unlike her senior, Sandy looked a little uncomfortable, but, as Mike recalled with some regret, he had been unable to play on that sliver of sympathy to save him from Jen and her progeny.
“Well, Mike, it is good to see you again – namely in that position,” Maria cackled, walking to stand next to him, one finger with freshly painted nails tracing one of his nipples.
Without saying a word, Sandy took up position on the opposite side, and then Jen came to stand between his spread legs. From his supine position, all three women leered over him, their barely contained breasts looming like mounds the women had to look over in order to see him.
“Would you mind playing with him a little while we catch up?” Maria asked.
“Certainly,” Jen said, smearing warm lubrication onto Mike’s erection, using her fingertips to gently massage his cockhead.
As he began to groan, Maria, still smiling, folded her arms under her breasts and took a deep breath. Even before she started to talk, it seemed to Mike that Maria had been practicing what to say, and that she was ecstatic to finally be able to say it.
“Well, Mike, it’s been one-hundred and eighty days already. Time sure flies by when you’re having a good time.”
Eyes narrowing in anger, Mike didn’t verbally rise to the bait.
“And I promised we would talk about you having an orgasm, finally.”
Sandy said nothing, but her body-language suggested she was relaxing now that the initial and awkward reunion was over.
“I can’t even imagine what an orgasm after so long would feel like. Must be relief and bliss on a level few humans have ever experienced. Experienced outside of Jen’s wonderful facility, that is.”
Maria reached down, and Jen’s hands retreated as the brunette took hold of his cock, making him groan anew. She stroked him slowly, the familiar feel of his hardness in her hands instinctively making her stroke him firmly and at a medium-pace, but she checked herself immediately, slowing the pace and loosening her grip.
Leaning over, dangling her breasts close to his face, she placed a kiss on his forehead and, with her mouth close to his ear, breathed sultrily into it. “I promised we would talk about you having an orgasm. I kept my promise.”
She kept stroking, the light touches maddening to an already overly denied cock. He nodded, feeling so close to that sweet relief that would release not only his balls, but his mind as well. He whimpered with joy. He was so close.
Straightening, her face adopting an even more wicked grin, Maria then said, “Well, I said we would talk about it, but I never said I would actually let you cum.” She released his cock.
Both Mike and Sandy shot disbelieving looks at Maria, only Jen seemed to be expecting what she was saying.
“It gives me tremendous pleasure to tell you that we’ve wired even more of your easy-earned cash to Jen. So I am afraid it is going to be another three-hundred and sixty-five days – a full year – before I am prepared to talk about you getting an orgasm next time.”
Mike’s heart – his very essence – sank into a bottomless pit inside him. The shock was so sudden, so unexpected and so utterly evil, that he hadn’t the faculties to form a response, not even a reaction.
“No!” Sandy shrieked, taken aback by Maria’s statement. “For God’s sakes, Maria, that is too cruel! We agreed he’d be let go today!”
With a yelp, Sandy found herself pinned on the floor, put there by a sudden move by Jen, who expertly kept the blonde’s arms pinned before attaching handcuffs to them.
Laughing at the display, even more so when the realization of everything dawned on Mike and he began screaming, trying once more to rip his bonds off in pure fury-induced panic, Maria shook her head. “No, Sandy, I never actually agreed to that. If you recall, I told you we would see.”
“What are you doing? Get off me!” Sandy tried to fight Jen, but even in heels and wearing only delicate lingerie, the proprietor of this peculiar prison had no problems keeping the younger of the secretaries under control. With practiced ease, Jen hoisted Sandy to her feet, holding the cuffed woman with one hand on her shoulder, the other on the upper arm.
“You’ll be still if you know what is good for you,” Jen growled menacingly to Sandy, whose green eyes were wide with shock. Freezing in place by Jen’s words, Sandy’s eyes looked at Maria’s smug ones, her lips quivering with shock and unworded questions.
Throughout this exchange, Mike still tried to free himself, but the three women paid him little heed.
“Even before Jen called me,” Maria began, “about her misgivings with you, personally, regarding the initial deal we made with her, I had already grown tired of your timidity and silly nervousness. I will not let you ruin our revenge this way, and I agree with Jen: I don’t trust that you won’t one day have a pang of conscience that sees you call the authorities on this place.
“That is why I’ve given Jen more money – out of your share, I might add – to teach you a lesson and capture some embarrassing footage that will keep you from spilling your guts in the future. Because if you do, all the world is going to see your naked, helpless and sexually tortured pussy.”
Sandy’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a goldfish, but no words came. Her eyes quivered with disbelief and her insides felt as though a hurricane of emotions tried to rip her organs out.
She was in utter shock at what she was hearing.
“As for you, Mikie dearest,” she looked down at the struggling man, mellowness returning to both her expression and her voice. “You will remain in the very capable hands of Jen’s staff. As I understand it there is still a couple of girls you haven’t met yet. Vicious man-haters who have been instructed to raise the intensity of your torture.
Turning on her high heels, Maria made for the cell door. Jen, shoving Sandy in front of her, who unwisely tried to squirm and was rewarded by having a wrist twisted to a painful angle to control her, followed suit.
“I will see you in a year, Mikie dear,” Maria cackled with genuine joy, perfectly vindictive as ever, before she went through the door.
Marching out after Maria with Sandy at an awkward angle in front of her lest she try something more stupid, Jen also left.
“All yours, girls,” Mike heard Jen speak to someone on the other side of the open cell door, his world still crashing around him as he fruitlessly attempted to brute force his way out of his bonds.
Through his thrashing and desperate cries, Mike didn’t notice, at first, the women joining him in the little cell.
CHAPTER 5
It had been a full day already. After the desperate cries had subsided and Sandy once more got her breathing under control – every deep inhalation pushing out her bust – the loudest sound in the chamber was Maria’s giggles.
Sitting with her legs crossed, one hand resting in her palm, the arm of which propped up on her knee, Maria took in the sight of her former co-worker, unable to pity her weakness that had damned her to this position.
Sitting in in a reclined gynaecologist’s chair, her body and arms strapped down, her legs high in the air and spread, similarly restrained, wearing only a matching set of lingerie that matched her hair-colour, Sandy’s pleading expression kept begging Maria for mercy.
Maria herself wore a designer set of black lingerie, lacy and delicate, with a pair of dagger heels to go with it, but the outfit was not for Sandy’s benefit.
“Please,” Sandy breathed, clearly exhausted, a faint sheen of perspiration coating her body. “Just let me go? I won’t say anything to anyone.”
Maria smiled, arching an eyebrow at her former colleague. “I think you know it is far too late for that now, dearest. Besides, I’ve already paid Jen to keep you here. With your money, in fact. As you know, Jen’s services are very expensive.”
Sandy grimaced pitifully, trembling all over. She kept throwing looks at the cell door next to them, dreading the moment Jen came back from her break in order to give the secretaries a moment in private.
Which wasn’t very private at all, Sandy thought, looking up at the two cameras in the ceiling watching everything.
“I submitted your resignation at work, by the way.” Maria straightened in her chair, folding her arms beneath her supple bosom. “Your colleagues was sad to learn of your desire to move far, far away and start your life afresh. But they accepted your reasons and wished you all the best of luck.” Maria leaned closer, shooting Sandy a positively evil stare. “No one will be looking for you, I made sure of that.”
SECRETARIES REVENGE CHAPT 4
Re: SECRETARIES REVENGE CHAPT 4
ALL IOTHER CHAPTERS POSTED UNDERNEATH CHAPT 1