You have a lot to learn, the voice said.
The phone rang. She jumped and debated answering it. Finally she gave in and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Miss Robinson? Are you feeling ill?” Her boss’s voice chilled her.
“Uh, yeah. I am.”
“Will you be in tomorrow?”
His tone seemed ... different. More concerned. Not at all like the domineering boss she had grown used to.
“Yes,” she said, deciding right then and there that she needed to return. She wasn’t about to lose her job now!
“Very well. I hope you feel better.” He rang off.
It was as simple as that. Perhaps Mr. Caudry had realized he had pushed her too far.
Emily got up and stripped off her work clothes and put on some jeans and a tee-shirt. She decided to go out and shop as a way of distracting herself. Anything to get the image out of her mind. Even now, whenever she closed her eyes, she could see herself, spread out and waiting for Mr. Caudry’s ruler. She shuddered.
She drove to the mall and shopped, not really expecting to buy much. Payday was still two days away. But when she found herself among the bras and panties she remembered she needed some new ones. She selected several pairs she liked and whittled them down to three. That was all she could afford for the moment. Looking over her selections, she realized she had unconsciously chosen panties Mr. Caudry would approve of. There was one pair of bikinis in pale purple, and two pairs of thongs, one ivory and one red. She stared at them, wondering if she should put them back. Shaking her head, she knew not to have them would only cause more punishments. She went to the cashier and bought them all.
Back home, she sat on the couch and drank an entire bottle of wine as she tried to sort out her feelings. She had gone so far now—how much further was she willing to go? When she had left, she had almost made up her mind to quit, yet she found herself listening more to that dark part of her that told her she needed it. Julie had even said she was a submissive.
Is this what I’m supposed to do? Let my feelings control me? Or should I be listening to my head instead?
The answer was obvious. Her brain loved the orgasms as much as her pussy did. Even now, despite her fears, she wanted to see where it went. If it got too scary, she could bail out at any time. She was like a trapeze artist, working above a net. If she ever fell, she could walk away unharmed.
Right?
9
The next day, Thursday, she showered and dressed and paused in front of her dresser, looking over the three new pairs of underwear she had bought. By all rights, she should wear the bikinis—they would give her some coverage and Mr. Caudry would accept them. For some reason, she chose the red thong instead. She couldn’t explain why. Trying not to think, she slipped them on and found a white lace bra. She chose a red skirt to match her panties and a white satin top that really didn’t show much. She looked ... safe, she decided. Only she and Mr. Caudry would know what she had on underneath.
She waited nervously at work for her boss to show up. He came in and nodded and she followed him into his office. Once the door was closed, she lifted up her skirt to show him her thong. He whistled.
“That’s great,” he said. “I’m glad to see you still want to work here. I was worried, after yesterday.”
“You scared me, that’s all.”
“I apologize.”
Her heart fluttered. He was apologizing! To her!
He stepped forward and she braced herself. His hand touched the front of the tiny panel that covered her pussy and tsked.
“What?”
“I like the panties, but this hair will have to go.” He tugged at some of her downy fleece that spilled out around it.
Every tug felt as if he was rubbing her clit. She sucked in her breath and wished he would stop. But she didn’t ask him to. Nor did she question his order. She merely stood there and tried not to come as his fingers teased her.
“Hmmm. You can shave it or I can send you to a salon I know and they’ll give you a wax.”
Emily closed her eyes. The choice she was being offered was an illusion. “Which would you like, Mr. Caudry?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh, the wax. Much more permanent. And it doesn’t leave that awful stubble. I’ll set it up for your lunch period.”
She nodded and stood there, skirt up, waiting for his command.
He stepped back. “You may go.”
Emily dropped her skirt and went at once to her desk. Without thinking about lunch, she got to work. He called her in after a while and asked her to bring him some coffee. She nodded and went at once to the break room. She spotted Mrs. Dowd and skidded to a halt.
“How are things going with Mr. Caudry?” the woman asked, stirring something into her coffee.
“Oh, fine. We had a little bit of a rough start, but I’m starting to learn what he likes.”
“Oh, good,” she said, smiling. “I was hoping you’d work out. So many girls came and went in that position. I despaired ever finding someone who would put up with him.”
“He’s ... he’s not so bad when you get to know him,” she found herself answering and felt a twinge of embarrassment when Mrs. Dowd looked up sharply at her. Then her face softened.
“Well, that’s nice. You let me know if you have any problems.” She tottered away.
Emily, her gaze following her, thought: You mean, like if Mr. Caudry demands I show him my panties every day and spanks me if I make a mistake? Like that?
She made his coffee and returned to set it on his desk.
“Thank you,” he said and she basked in the simple pleasantry.
She didn’t make any mistakes that morning and when lunchtime came around, Emily had almost forgotten about her “appointment.” Mr. Caudry reminded her. He handed her a business card and said, “Go here and ask for Arlene. She’s expecting you. Everything’s paid for.”
She took the card and read it: Arlene’s Beauty Emporium. It had an address on Lancaster, just a few blocks away. She looked up. “Are you sure?”
He frowned. “Of course I’m sure.” He left her standing there, holding the card.
Resigned, she headed out to find the shop. Her nerves grew as she neared it and she nearly backed out. But she knew Mr. Caudry would be so disappointed. She couldn’t face that. So she went in and asked for Arlene.
A bleached blonde of about fifty came forward. “Oh, you must be Emily. Come on back.” She led her through a door into a small room where a padded chair, somewhat like a barber’s chair, was bolted to the floor. Emily felt fear shoot through her.
“Um...”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been doing this for years. Guaranteed results. All the girls are doing it nowadays.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Just a little. Like a pinch.” She handed her a smock. “Here, take off your clothes and put this on, opening to the front and get into the chair.”
Arlene left without another word and Emily quietly stripped and stacked her clothes on the counter. She pulled on the gown and tried to tie the two straps in front but only the top one was whole. The bottom tie had both sides ripped off. She held the sides together as she climbed into the barber’s chair.
Arlene came in at once and stepped on a lever, causing the chair to tip back suddenly. Emily hung on, afraid she might get thrown out.
“Oh, sorry, that pedal sticks. I need to oil it. Now hang on while I adjust these straps.” She began tying Emily’s thighs, stomach and arms down against the chair.
“Wait, what—”
Arlene ignored her and quickly completed her task, leaving her helpless. Emily quickly learned that Arlene one of those breezy blondes who liked to talk. She began chatting up a storm as she began turning a crank, which caused Emily’s legs to be pulled apart. She tried to protest, but she could hardly get a word in edgewise. Arlene yanked the smock apart, exposing her pussy to her gaze.