Final Seduction

Book 3: Seduction

by Emma Allan

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Cruel and beautiful businesswoman Clarissa Peacham rules her staff with a rod of iron. Should any of her minions earn her displeasure they risk certain punishment. A month as Clarissa's sex slave is guaranteed to keep even the most troublesome of employees in line.

But, sooner or later, resistance is inevitable. Jake Ransley has endured the deprivations and humiliations of service at the hands of Clarissa. So too has his luscious colleague Imogen Davies. And their sufferings have left them with a deep-seated need to fill the void that now exists in their sensual lives . . .


Part three of the Seduction series.

Discover Piatkus Entice: temptation at your fingertips - www.piatkusentice.co.uk

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 256

Sample

Clarissa Peacham got to her feet. She was wearing a tight black skirt and a peach-coloured silk blouse. Her long slender legs were sheathed in glossy flesh-coloured nylon and black calf-length boots with a spiky heel. Slowly she began pulling the blouse from out of the waistband of the skirt. She watched him as she unbuttoned it then allowed it to slip to the floor, enjoying his discomfort. He was sitting in a metal and leather chair in front of her desk, unable to take his eyes off her body.

Her big, melon-like breasts were held in a black satin three-quarter cup bra, the tanned flesh spilling out of the silky material. She reached behind her back, her eyes fixed on his, and unclipped the catch. For a moment she held the cups to her chest with both hands, moulding her breasts back against her body, the pliant flesh ballooning out on all sides. Then she allowed the bra to slide away. It dropped on to the desk.

‘Pick it up,’ she said.

‘What …’ He was staring at her breasts as if hypnotised by them, the heavy orbs appearing to need no support, their position on her chest as high as it had been with the bra in place. Her nipples were already erect, big corrugated buds of ruby-red flesh.

‘You heard me,’ she snapped. ‘And stand up.’

Hesitantly, like a man who thought this all might be an elaborate dream, he got to his feet and picked up the black satin.

‘Kiss it,’ she said.

‘Look, I don’t—’

‘Do as I say, Mr Ransley. Without question.’

She saw that his hand was trembling as he picked up the bra and brought it to his lips. He kissed the peak of the left cup.

‘Rub it against your cheek.’

This time he did not protest, rubbing the satin against his face. It would still be warm. It was drenched in her expensive, musky perfume.

‘That wasn’t too difficult now, was it?’ she said.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said, almost in a whisper.

‘I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear,’ she said. ‘Come around the desk now.’

Jake Ransley was a minor copywriter in Clarissa Peacham’s advertising agency. For the last two years Clarissa had been running what she liked to think of as a unique incentive scheme. Selected employees, male and female, who were under-performing in the company, were faced with a stark choice. Either they agreed to her rather unusual demands or were given their notice. Ten minutes ago she had summoned Jake Ransley to her office and presented him with this ultimatum.

Her desk was a large slab of walnut supported on two stainless steel trestles. Jake Ransley, still holding the satin bra, did as he was told.

‘Unzip my skirt.’ Clarissa turned her back on him.

Without a word he found the tongue of the short zip and pulled it down.

‘Listen, very carefully.’ Now that she was facing away from him she could allow herself to smile. She had no idea how many men and women she had put through this ordeal but it never failed to excite her. She loved to watch their reactions: the horror on their faces as she told them they were about to lose their jobs, the hope that sprung up as she revealed that there was one alternative to that scenario and then the mixture of fascination and bewilderment as she gave them a practical demonstration of what would be required of them for the next month. ‘Get on your knees. I want you to pull my skirt down. All the way down. When you have done that I want you to pull my panties down too.’

‘Your panties …’ His voice was strained and throaty, his tone bemused.

‘Yes.’

It was never the same. There was no routine. Sometimes she liked to tackle two employees together, a male and a female, making one watch while the other was given a lesson in obedience. Sometimes she made sure they made a mistake so she could give them an example of the punishment that would be a regular part of their life during the time they spent as what amounted to her personal slave. Sometimes, though much more rarely, she allowed herself to indulge in more venal pleasures. It all depended on her mood. She was a woman who only had to raise her hand to satisfy the slightest whim.

‘You can put the bra on the desk.’

Jake Ransley did as he was told. He dropped the bra on the walnut, knelt behind her, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt. He began to tug it down. Her buttocks rose sharply from the small of her back, and he had to struggle to pull the material over them. As the milky flesh was revealed Clarissa knew he would be able to see her black satin panties, a thong of material appearing from the deep, dark cleft of her bottom, merging into a tiny triangle stretched tightly across her apple-shaped arse, with straps extending over the generous curves of her hips.

The skirt fell to the floor around the boots. The glossy smooth nylon that covered her legs was not tights but hold-up stockings, their wide clinging welts banded with flesh-coloured lace. The spiky high heels of the boots firmed all the muscles of her legs and buttocks and added four inches to her already lofty stature. As she stepped out of the skirt the nylon stockings rasped against each other.

He hesitated. She could sense him staring at the spectacle three inches in front of his face.

‘Come on,’ she urged impatiently, wriggling her bottom slightly from side to side.

His fingers rose to her hips. They grabbed the thin black satin straps and pulled them down. The gusset of the panties was so deeply buried in the lips of her sex he had to tug it clear.

Clarissa stepped out of the panties, then turned to face him.

‘That’s better,’ she said.

He was staring at her thick curly chestnut-coloured pubic hair. Every morning after her bath she would be carefully shaved by one of the slaves, so that while her mons was trimmed into a neat triangle her labia were completely smooth and hairless, from the little hood of the clitoris right back to the puckered crater of her anus.

‘Stand up,’ she ordered.

Jake did so. She saw a large bulge distending the front of his trousers.

‘All right, Mr Ransley, I want you to take this out for me.’ She tapped the bulge with her finger.

‘Please …’ He blushed the colour of beetroot.

‘Please what? Haven’t I explained myself clearly? If you don’t want to obey me, Mr Ransley, you can leave. You are free to go. It is your choice. If you wish to take me up on what I consider to be a very generous offer, considering the standard of your work recently, then you have to do exactly as I say, without question. I shall not repeat myself again.’ Clarissa sat down and crossed her legs. The swivel chair behind her desk was leather and she could feel its coolness against her naked buttocks.

‘I’ll lose my job,’ he said.

She smiled, a thin unsympathetic smile. ‘Perfectly true.’

She knew that he would not walk out. She could see it in his eyes and she was never wrong.

‘This is mad,’ he said.

‘Your last chance …’ she said, her voice stern and authoritative.

His eyes were looking at her near-naked body. He was no doubt fantasising about what he would do with it, imagining sinking his cock into the depths of her loins. She might even decide to grant him that privilege; on the other hand she might not. But it would be a long road for him to travel before she made that decision. Long and arduous.

Jake Ransley’ s hand fumbled with the zipper of his trousers. He pulled it down and a large, circumcised cock pushed its way out between the metal teeth. It was remarkably smooth, the shaft thick and long.

Clarissa swivelled her chair and pressed a button on the phone console on her desk. ‘Mira, come in here for a moment, would you.’

‘No …’ The man’s hands had covered his genitals.

‘Did I tell you to do that?’ she asked immediately.

‘No, but I …’

‘You are going to have to perform a great deal better than this. I have no intention of telling you again, Mr Ransley. If you do not obey me then my offer will be withdrawn. It is as simple as that.’

The man reluctantly pulled his hands away as the office door opened.

‘Yes, Ms Peacham,’ Mira Arnold said. She was a petite, short-haired blonde. Despite her smart black business suit she gave the impression of tartiness, her skirt revealing most of her thighs, her black bra showing through her white blouse. She wore red patent-leather high heels and her make-up was none too subtle either, with a dark red lipstick and heavy blue eye shadow that highlighted her large blue eyes.

‘Give me your opinion, Mira, would you?’

Mira looked at Jake’s cock. She tilted her head to one side. ‘Not bad,’ she said. She walked around the desk and, as casually as if she were picking up a file, took Jake’s cock in her hand. She lifted it then let it drop. ‘Not bad at all.’

Mira’s fingers undid the single button at the top of his flies and pulled his trousers and briefs down to his knees. ‘What about his arse?’ she said.

‘Yes. Bend over the desk,’ Clarissa ordered.

Jake did as he was told, however reluctantly. He did not want to risk Clarissa’s wrath again.

Mira pulled the tail of his jacket and shirt up over his back. Jake’s buttocks were small and firm.

‘No padding,’ Mira said. ‘He’d better be well behaved or he’s really going to feel the whip.’ She smacked her hand down on Jake’s left buttock by way of demonstration. The sound of flesh on flesh reverberated across the room.

Clarissa got to her feet. Normally, though she got a great deal of pleasure from these interviews, she was content to watch and remained physically uninvolved. But she was beginning to feel a pulse of sexual need deep inside her and had no intention of ignoring it.

‘Get the restraints, will you, Mira?’

Mira smiled. ‘That’s unlike you.’

Mira had been one of Clarissa’s slaves. She had been so responsive and so willing that Clarissa had decided to bring her into her office and put her in charge of the selection procedures. Clarissa liked to employ people who might later fit well into her little scheme should their work fall below standard. The blonde knew exactly what to look for, a sort of sixth sense for the hidden signs that betrayed an innate willingness, a bent toward submissiveness and, of course, in the females, a predisposition towards bisexuality. Mira had another useful talent: she had a natural inclination to sadomasochism. In fact, Mira could get as much sexual pleasure from delivering a beating as she could from receiving one.

Clarissa touched Jake’s naked buttocks. He started.

‘Get up on the desk, Mr Ransley. On your back.’

‘On the desk?’

‘Don’t make me repeat myself,’ she said.

Apart from a telephone console at the far end, the surface of the desk was uncluttered. He scrambled on to it and lay on his back.

Mira had opened a drawer in the credenza at the side of the room. She came back to the table and dropped a leather harness on the walnut behind his head.

‘Put your hands together above your head,’ she ordered.

Jake obeyed, the expression on his face turning from bewilderment to apprehension.

Mira wrapped a leather cuff around his right wrist and buckled it tight. It was joined to an identical cuff, which she strapped to his left wrist. A chain was attached to the metal link that held the two cuffs together. The blonde pulled it back along the desk and clipped it into a hook located under the slab of walnut.

‘Enough?’ she said.

‘A blindfold too, I think,’ Clarissa said. Her sex was melting now in eager anticipation of what it was about to receive. This was unlike her. She was surprised at her lack of control. Only very occasionally had she been tempted by a new slave, and then she always followed the same procedure – having them taken back to her house where they were gagged, blindfolded and bound hand and foot, their bodies circled by wide leather straps so they couldn’t move a muscle. She could then indulge herself, their erection available for her use. But, with Jake, she didn’t want to wait until tonight.

Mira had taken a thick leather blindfold from the credenza. The inside was padded with foam-covered silk. She fitted it over the bridge of his nose then strapped it around his head. The padding pressed hard against his eyelids cutting out any light.

‘Do you want me to stay?’ she asked.

Clarissa smiled. ‘Oh yes, I do,’ she said, knowing exactly what role she wanted Mira to play.

Jake Ransley had been reduced to his constituent parts, a mouth and a large throbbing erection. Clarissa wasn’t interested in anything else. As far as she was concerned that was all that men had to offer. She was more powerful and wealthier than most men and certainly more determined. For her, the power and wealth she had accumulated in business allowed her to do exactly what she wanted to do in her private life. And that was not going to change.

She climbed up on to the desk and straddled Jake’s chest, facing his feet. Raising herself on her haunches she ‘walked’ back on her knees until her sex was poised above his mouth.

‘You’d better make it good, Jake,’ she hissed between her teeth, feeling her clitoris throbbing strongly as she lowered herself down on to his mouth.

Immediately she felt his tongue probing her hairless labia. It worked up between them then jammed itself against the little lozenge-shaped promontory of flesh.

‘At last you’re beginning to understand what I want from you,’ she said, as her body shuddered at the first touch. His tongue was hot and hard. He wriggled it from side to side dragging her clitoris with it. ‘Yes,’ she moaned as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

Mira stood alongside the desk. Without being told what to do she cupped Clarissa’s left breast in her hand, squeezed it hard then dipped her head and sank her teeth into the teat. She gave the right breast the same treatment.

As Clarissa ground her sex down on to Jake’s face, and his nose nudged into her wet vagina, she nodded to her assistant. Immediately Mira slapped Jake’s cock with the palm of her hand. Jake gasped. A gust of hot air burst out of his mouth and over Clarissa’s sex, just as she’d intended.

‘Don’t stop,’ she warned, as his tongue faltered.

He resumed the rhythm. He was something special, Clarissa decided. Her body was undulating ever so slightly and he adopted the same rhythm as he tongued her clit. Already she felt the precursors of orgasm gathering in her body, the familiar quickening of her pulse, the sharpening of her senses, particularly deep in the velvety tube of her vagina, where her juices flowed copiously now as it contracted as rhythmically as the motion of his tongue. She had always been a woman who could come just as strongly without penetration as with it and felt no need to change positions and jam his cock into her cunt. This was enough.

Thwack. Mira slapped his penis much harder this time. Clarissa saw it rear up and felt another hot exclamation play over her sex as Jake gasped again. She squirmed down on him one last millimetre, spreading her stocking-clad thighs even further apart. She clutched her breasts in her hands, her fingers buried in the pliant flesh, then felt her eyes rolling up and a huge wave of sensation overtaking her. At exactly that moment Mira struck another blow on his naked phallus. The resultant gasp did not take Clarissa over the brink, because she was already wallowing in orgasm, but it extended and intensified it. She rocked back, supporting herself on straight arms stretched out behind her, her body at a forty-five degree angle to the table in a straight line from her chin to her knees.

It was some minutes before she moved.

‘What time is Manley due?’ she asked Mira.

‘Four,’ Mira said.

‘Good.’ Clarissa pulled herself off Jake as if she was dismounting a horse. ‘Get him cleaned up. As it’s the weekend have him sent to the Farm.’ Clarissa had a London house, aptly sited on Punishment Road, and a large mansion house in the country where she spent weekends. Usually the male slaves were taken to the London house first, but as it was the weekend and, as she suspected that she would want to make use of Jake’s particular qualities sooner rather than later, she decided to break this rule.

‘He’s that good, is he?’ Mira said.

‘You don’t miss much, do you?’

‘That’s what you pay me for.’ Mira was already unhooking the chain from the desk. ‘Up,’ she commanded.

Jake sat up, then got to his feet, raising his hands to pull the blindfold off.

‘Leave that where it is,’ Mira said, tugging on the chain. ‘There’s nothing you’ll need to see.’

‘What about my flat, my things?’ he said.

‘We’ll send someone around to cancel the milk,’ Clarissa said dismissively. ‘Mira will see all your friends are informed. We’ll tell them you’re going on a course. A month-long course. It’s more or less the truth.’

Clarissa was adjusting her long wavy chestnut hair in the mirror, flouncing it out with her fingers. It fell to her shoulders in a mass of soft curls. She picked up her bra from the desk, eased her breasts back into it then began to pull on her panties and skirt.

Mira pulled on the chain again. Jake inched forward, pulled out of the door like a dog on a leash.

Clarissa smoothed her skirt over her hips and sat behind her desk. She took an atomiser of perfume from her handbag and sprayed it behind her ears, the perfume covering the more primitive aroma that lingered in the room. Her sex was still throbbing and her nipples were producing delicious little trills of feeling as they rubbed against the black satin bra. She could feel her clitoris hard up against the crotch of her tiny panties. She had been greedy. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had a wonderful orgasm last night. One of the girls currently serving her at the London house had turned out to be a dedicated lesbian and had a particularly artful mouth. Clarissa had used her extensively last night, alternating the soft richness of a woman’s touch with the hard pounding of her most athletic male slave.

But she was rarely sated. Satisfying her sexual desires only seemed to create new needs.

She hadn’t expected Jake Ransley to be anything special, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was. She was looking forward to exploring his qualities further, though she doubted, if only he knew what was awaiting him, that he would be so enthusiastic. That thought brought another smile to her face.

‘Stand still.’

Jake felt the chain being dropped. It hit his knee. The blindfold was totally effective, and he was not familiar enough with Clarissa Peacham’s office to visualise where Mira had taken him. It had been no more than ten or eleven steps and he was facing some sort of wall.

He heard a door being opened.

‘Inside,’ she said.

He stumbled on something then realised he was in a cupboard. The loss of his sight seemed to have increased his ability to hear and he listened as Mira closed and locked the cupboard door. He heard her high heels clacking on the wooden floor as she walked back to her desk.

Slowly he explored with his hands. The cupboard was small and there was no room to turn around.

He stood with nothing to do but think about what Clarissa Peacham had said. The thirty minutes he had spent in her office were probably the most humiliating of his life. They were also the most exciting, which was what he didn’t understand. Even now, locked in this cupboard, his cock was harder than he could ever remember it being.

Pushing back against the door, he managed to cram his erection back into his trousers and do up his zip.

As a minor cog in a very large machine he had never had any dealings with the Chief Executive of the company, so his summons to her office had been a complete surprise. He hadn’t the faintest idea what it could be about but even in his wildest dreams he would never have expected this treatment. There had been rumours in the office about her, and about staff who were given unexpected leave. But none of those who had returned to the office after one of these absences had ever been prepared to talk about what happened so the rumours were never substantiated. Now Jake knew the truth for himself.

It seemed so incredible that he still found it hard to believe. Despite the graphic demonstration she had just given, he really hadn’t any idea what she intended for him. If she wanted him to have sex with her, even while he was bound and helpless, he certainly wouldn’t mind doing that for a month in order to hold on to his job. Even before he’d seen her spectacular body he’d thought of her as one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, if not the most beautiful. He, like every man in the company, had entertained sexual fantasies about her, though nothing he’d ever dreamed up had been as bizarre as the last half-hour. A month spent, even in such outré pursuits, might not be so bad after all.

Jake had always thought of himself as a good lover. He had never had any trouble attracting women and was fit and strong with a good body, which he knew exactly how to use to please them in bed. It was possible, he thought, that he might be able to interest Claris. . .