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Archive name: compuls.txt (FF, bond, nc, mast) 
Authors name: Cate Murray (murraycate@hotmail.com)
Story title : Compulsion

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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Compulsion (FF, bond, nc, mast) 
by Cate Murray (murraycate@hotmail.com)

***

We left the restaurant around ten and went back to my 
apartment. I would have liked to undress her myself, 
but I didn't want to rush things and allowed her to 
change in one of the dressing rooms by the pool where 
she hung her suit and carefully folded her neat 
underwear away beside her shoulder bag.

She had no problem relaxing with me in the tub where we 
sat with our shoulders companionably touching and our 
brandy balloons held just above the gently steaming 
water. I felt my own well-exercised body compared 
favourably enough with her soft, almost flabby tawny 
quality. We were both women, both naked and a little 
more than half drunk; just what I would call an ideal 
situation.

We chatted a little about the office, although I don't 
discuss personalities with my staff. Sexual pleasure is 
never allowed to influence my business decisions, but, 
all other things being equal, the memory of lips 
fluttering under mine, or a successful skirmish in my 
bed, might be to the advantage of an ambitious girl. 
And this one was ambitious. She had had to wait for my 
invitation, of course, but when it came she was ready 
for it. 

In fact, I had an uncomfortable sensation of being 
charmed into making the approach before the three 
months probationary period I normally insisted on had 
been served.

Sitting beside her, I placed my right foot across her 
left ankle, moved my leg slightly upward. She didn't 
appear to object.

I remembered that when we were in the restaurant she 
had held her hand on my arm a little longer than was 
necessary as she told me some trivial stories about her 
country upbringing, leaning close so that her breath 
was gently vibrating my hair. That had excited me more 
than I would have expected.

I picked up a silver goblet, based on a Roman original, 
that had been given to me for my forty-fifth birthday. 
I filled the goblet with scented water and gently 
poured it over her beautiful shoulders.

"The day to day running of the business could soon need 
new blood," I said, embarrassed at a totally 
inappropriate thickening of my voice, as desire 
suddenly flooded me like moonlight. I recovered myself 
and continued, "You may now be looking at the next 
Mayor of this town." Pam looked at me and smiled.

I could see her mind working "Timing is everything," I 
said. "I didn't regard the last approach as opportune, 
as there was a popular incumbent. But now he's retiring 
and I'll have a free run. And I think they're ready for 
a woman."

Three key business people, two men and a woman had 
wanted to bankroll me to run for Mayor two years ago. 
Now they knew I couldn't refuse. Pam nodded at me, 
smiling, as she wound a towel round her hair, her pale, 
plump breasts gleaming wet as they lifted clear of the 
bubbled, oil-scented water. Why did I have to brag to 
impress this big country girl? Even that makes me 
cringe now when I think of it.

"I think I'm getting sleepy, Ms Gregg," she said in 
that slack- tuned rural accent which was the least 
attractive thing about her, yet charmingly voluptuous 
in our present mood and setting.

"Do you need something to wear?" I asked.

"That's okay Ms Gregg," she said.

"Just call me Susan to-night," I said.

She smiled at me, big mouth, big teeth, dazzling me 
with her youth and brilliance. I climbed nimbly enough 
from the tub to fetch towels and robes. 

While she dried off I locked the door to the balcony. 
It was an old habit, since a rather disturbed girl had 
tried to go off it a few years back. It was the only 
such incident in nearly thirty years, not a bad record, 
but it had scared me badly at the time.

*

We drifted towards the bedroom, laughing, carrying our 
brandy balloons, my arm around her waist. I had never 
wished to share my life with anyone and 
only brought a girl home for the night every few 
months. I always got full value, however, as I securely 
locked away the memories of my assignations and made 
them serve me without respite as I masturbated 
furiously during my periods of "abstinence." Pam had a 
towel, turban fashion around her head and the white 
robe loosely belted around her waist. 

She looked radiant from the pool and I knew I had 
chosen well. I had never been so sure. This was often 
the difficult part, even with employees - when they 
found they were not being allotted a separate bedroom. 
Most of them, however, were only too well aware of what 
was happening.

Pam was plainly impressed by the room with its Charles 
Reid watercolours (a still-life and a plump, pink and 
cerulean, blonde nude), the magnificent walnut cheval 
glass and wardrobes, the canopied bed with the satin-
polished butternut pillars, each as wide and curved as 
a woman's waist, the red shaded lights that cast a 
flattering, rosy glow.

Pam seemed unsure for a moment, and put down her glass 
on a bedside table. I quickly put down my own glass and 
embraced her. I was so sure of her now. Seldom had I 
had real trouble, once or twice girls who had sobbed 
almost all night. With one, I remember pressing my 
thumbs on her greasy eyelids, kissing the agitated 
lips, and how her resistance had so increased my 
pleasure and captivated my dreams. I pushed my hand 
inside Pam's robe, ran it tenderly around her prominent 
buttocks.

Pam was gripping my shoulders, a flushed, angry look on 
her face. So unattractive, I thought, feeling a strange 
weakness in my belly, then she caught my wrists and 
threw me on the bed, landing heavily between my legs 
and on top of me so that my breath was crushed out of 
me. "Get off me," I shouted, fighting her angrily and 
astonished at this assault. None of my girls had ever 
behaved like this before. "I'll get you, you bitch," 
she shouted in my ear.

She had my wrists again and, in a quick move, she 
straddled me, grunting as she came down on my belly, 
then pinning my upper arms with her powerful knees.

Because the bed was so soft, I was able to generate 
some movement and she was not as firmly seated as she 
thought. She swayed as I fought back, trying to thrust 
to the side, pushing against her wrists. At this point 
I was still furiously angry. I had no doubt I could 
threaten or fight her off and was planning already how 
I would punish her when I got her beneath me in my bed. 

But, with her superior weight, she did not have to 
exert very much effort to hold me down. With my arms 
trapped under her knees, she was able to use her hands 
to steady herself against the head of the bed and I was 
no longer sure it would be easy to throw her off.

We struggled for nearly five minutes and I cursed her 
in the foulest language but did not realise until I was 
completely exhausted that she had simply been letting 
me tire myself to no avail. Before much longer I was 
hopelessly defeated and she was still sitting firmly 
astride me. I rested, gasping for breath, glaring up 
into her placid, square-jawed face.

"Give in?" she demanded

I shook my head.

She sighed, then leaned down and, wetting the palm of 
her right hand with her tongue, she placed it over my 
mouth, sealing it tight shut. Then she pinched my 
nostrils between the finger and thumb of her left hand.

My lips, on my despairing attempt to draw in air, 
became vacuum-sealed. I couldn't move my head or 
breathe and in less than a minute I started to black 
out. I tried to surrender, to beseech her with my eyes, 
but she just grinned and held on.

I was sure I was going to die, that she really meant to 
kill me there and then and I felt as if my soul had 
left my body and floated to hover and stare from the 
ceiling.

I blacked out and when I came to again I had a dull 
headache and she was still on top of me but I was lying 
on my face and she was seated astride my back.

My wrists were bound behind me with the sash of one of 
the gowns. I was naked and she was still wearing her 
robe. She ordered me lie on my back again, lifting off 
me just enough to let me turn, then straddling my 
belly, disregarding the discomfort of my bound wrists 
underneath.

"Give in?" she asked again in just the same calm tone.

I had to make two attempts before my voice came out 
huskily.

"Yes."

There was a voluptuous flush in my belly and womb, a 
vibrant tingling in my breasts, a feeling of almost 
passing out of my body, as if I crossed some invisible 
frontier between resistance and complete and utter 
capitulation. 

And, staring down at me, she knew it. No one, much less 
a woman had ever beaten me, yet I wanted Pam to grind 
me beneath her into the bed, to ride me with derisive 
contempt while I pleaded unavailingly for mercy. If she 
understood the game we were playing now, as I thought 
she did, I knew that she would deny my pleading, thus 
gratifying her triumph and deliciously pandering to my 
perverse delight at being utterly helpless underneath 
her. 

This was a whole new game to me. I could hardly speak, 
my throat was so congested with desire, but I poured 
out my agony of longing and surrender, said things that 
still make me cringe when I recall them, yet delighted 
in her cool and mocking response.

"You know, this is turning me on a bit," she said. She 
wriggled her butt slightly.

"Don't fight it," I said. "Let me show you."

"Victory turns me on," she said. "I like to win. 
Believe me, I'm not into making love with old women."

The cruelty of this remark was unexpected and shook me 
for a moment.

I believed there were few women I couldn't seduce. If 
only she would untie me? No, I was enjoying this too 
much. I could seduce her, even bound as I was beneath 
her like this.

"Then why did you come back with me to-night?" I asked.

"I had to be sure," she said. " I'd been asking 
questions - around the office. There was a funny 
atmosphere at work, but nobody would really talk. 

Are they all that much afraid of you?"

For a moment I almost smiled, forgetting my present 
situation.

"Please," I begged.

"No," she said, unrelenting.

"Get off me, then," I said huskily, but I wanted her to 
refuse me, to taunt me in my humiliation, felt the 
perverse desire almost floating me. "You've been doing 
this for years, haven't you? Making love to girls from 
the office?" she demanded.

"Among others," I said. My throat was still swollen 
with desire. "What of 
it? I haven't had all that many complaints."

"Well, you've got one now," she said. "And you're going 
to remember it."

Then she got off me and stood beside the bed. I missed 
my warm prison between her legs, her weight on me. The 
desire I felt was terrible.

"Please," I begged, "just lie on me. Put your thigh 
between my legs."

"Sorry," she said.

"Your hand, anything."

"Fuck off you shameless old bitch," she said, looking 
at me with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

"I want you to fuck me. Please, please, fuck me," I 
screamed hoarsely. 

I started to cry.

I struggled violently, but the belt of the robe, though 
soft, was too tightly knotted.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I can't untie you either. I 
don't trust you."

"Then get out, damn you," I screamed. "Get out of my 
room."

"Is there another bedroom?" she asked.

"None of the beds is made up. You were supposed to 
sleep here with me."

"Sorry," she said again. "Would you like some tea or 
anything."

"Get out!!" I screamed.

"I'll go down to the lounge and sleep in a chair, 
okay?" she asked.

"No, it's not all okay. I beg you, I implore you to get 
in bed with me."

"I can't untie you, Ms Gregg," she said. "You know 
that."

"I don't care," I shouted hoarsely. "Just get in the 
bed and get on me." I had lost all shame. She looked at 
me in disgust and went out of the room, leaving the 
door ajar with just the light from the landing and a 
heavily shaded bedside lamp dimly illuminating the 
room, as though for a child frightened of the dark. I 
screamed in humiliation and frustration.

I lay on my face, burning alive with desire. My 
headache had almost cleared. I opened my legs, trying 
to get my fingers between them. After a few minutes I 
fell back exhausted. I struggled to my knees and 
crawled to the end of the bed where I locked the satin- 
polished wood of one of the bedposts between my thighs 
and started compulsively masturbating. 

Then the flash of a Polaroid camera exploded in my 
face, blinding me. 

Pam didn't pay any heed to my cries of despair as she 
pulled me up towards 
the pillows. She dragged open my underwear drawer and 
threw half the contents on the bed. I struggled to 
escape, but she sat on me again, this time facing my 
feet, and bound my ankles with pantyhose to one of the 
bedposts. She forced me to take a sleeping pill and 
some water.

Then she stuffed a pair of my own panties in my mouth, 
making a gag with the help of a black nylon stocking, 
which she knotted at the back of my head. She threw the 
coverlet over me and left the room, closing and locking 
the door this time. I didn't want to sleep. I started 
trying to hump the mattress, but somewhere I lost 
consciousness. In my dreams Pam was leading me on a 
rope naked through a hostile and jeering crowd.

*

Pam was fully dressed in her cherry-colored business 
suit and black heels when she slapped me briskly awake 
at four in the morning and showed me the Polaroid 
photograph.

At first I didn't recognise myself in the old hag, with 
the distorted face smudged with mascara, those 
incredibly skinny, veiny legs attempting to grapple and 
ride the bedpost, the red demonic pinpoints in an old 
woman's eyes which expressed both terror and an obscene 
lust.

"I forgot the redeye reduction button," Pam said 
sardonically as she un-knotted the stocking at the back 
of my head and pulled the sodden panties from my mouth. 
She allowed me a glass of water. I was terrified now. 
"Please, I beg you," I said. "Is there nothing I can 
say, nothing I can do?

"This is for Cathy," she said. "She worked for you 
once."

For the life of me I couldn't remember a Cathy. The 
little one with the wet eyelashes? No, that wasn't her 
name. There were too many of them. 

I really only remembered the very few who had 
stimulated me by the strength of their resistance or, 
on the other hand, matched me equally in their ardour.

"You're an old woman," she said. "I've nothing 
against... I mean, I had sex with a girl one time, at 
school, but, hell, I believe in ... in consent." "There 
is, please believe me," I begged.

She didn't bother to reply.

"Cathy?" I croaked.

"I don't know for sure if that was her name twenty 
years ago," Pam said. "I met her last year... at a 
commune in the mountains. She was in a bad state 
because her guru told her there was something coming 
between her and complete spiritual fulfillment. If you 
ask me, I think the guru was trying to hint that it was 
her money."

Cathy snickered.

"Oh, she was loaded. She'd been married to a rich guy 
and she ripped him off for plenty. Cathy saw it 
different to the guru. She knew there was something in 
her former life that held her back. He had to agree."

"I don't know her," I pleaded.

"She blames it for her depressions, for fucking up her 
life," Cathy went on. "Remember, she was very young at 
the time. This was twenty years ago. She was too 
ashamed to tell anyone."

"Why are you doing this?" I croaked.

"She's my friend," Pam said. "But, as well, she's 
helping me out with a money problem I have,. Cathy 
isn't going to let fifty thousand bucks stand between 
her and complete spiritual fulfillment - you bet!" 
"I'll give you more," I said hoarsely.

I didn't even convince myself and Pam's laugh mocked 
me. I struggled furiously against my bonds and pleaded 
with her in vain. I felt an overwhelming compulsion to 
masturbate.

"That's a well-equipped little office you have down the 
hall! Pam said. "I made twenty photocopies of this 
picture. I sent faxes to the machines at the main 
office."

I burst into a storm of ugly weeping, yet I didn't care 
how degraded Pam saw me and the desire in my belly and 
crotch was insistent. "Yeah, I found your address book. 
I also sent copies to the three people you were 
bragging about last night. I'll be leaving the rest 
with you. I won't be going back to the office."

She started putting lipstick on her plump mouth.

"Neither will you, if you have any sense," she said and 
then she gagged me again.

At four-thirty, around dawn, she came back, carrying 
her shoulder bag. She untied my ankles and put my robe 
loosely over me. Leaving my gag in place and with my 
wrists still bound behind me, she made me stand in 
front of my cheval glass and look at my reflection.

I almost fainted at the sight. My hair was lank and 
unkempt looking and my normally immaculate makeup had 
fouled my face and neck with crusted muddy patches. My 
own body odour disgusted me, but I knew now it was 
useless to beg her to let me wash. Pam wasn't finished.

She scribbled the bright scarlet lipstick on my cheeks, 
then smeared them all over, so that I looked even more 
of a raddled whore than I did in the photograph. She 
made me wait while she washed her hands, then led me to 
the elevator, holding me by the collar of my robe, like 
a common criminal.

When we reached the underground car park she laid the 
robe on the ground and ordered me to kneel on it with 
my back to one of the concrete pillars while she took a 
length of electric flex from her shoulder bag. She 
passed it through the bonds on my wrists and then 
wrapped and tied it round the pillar.

Pam went clicking about briskly on her high heels, 
putting copies of the Polaroid photograph under the 
wipers of about ten of the cars. I burst into a storm 
of weeping. It was so UNFAIR!. I begged and begged her 
again, but she wasn't listening. She was nearly 
finished now. She took a folded white card from her 
shoulder bag, opened it out and hung it from a cord 
around my neck. Then she took a couple more Polaroid's. 
The card bore the word RAPIST in large red letters.

Because of the pillar just behind me, it was impossible 
to kneel upright and, by the time she finally clacked 
confidently away towards the elevators my head had 
fallen to rest on the filthy surface of the floor. I 
cried with utter despair when she left. It was cold in 
the garage and I was petrified by the thought of the 
humiliation I had yet to endure. 

Yet I was still in her bonds and I was astonished at 
the unsatisfied compulsion that raged in my womb and 
breasts. Had she any idea of how much she was punishing 
me? I fought and wrestled with all my strength and 
managed to get my body a little nearer the ground, then 
tried to get my head between my legs, but I felt my 
body sag in defeat. 

Then the cold took over. I started shivering, crying. I 
still hoped Pam might have mercy on me and come back 
and release me. At around six thirty I heard the 
determined click of high heels and my heart nearly 
turned over. But it was a woman coming to get her car 
out. She called the janitor and he called the police.

End.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. 

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