On The Job

Olivia Brewster, a reporter with a small underground newspaper, was assigned by her editor to cover a party that was taking place in an old abandoned warehouse on Saturday evening. It was not just any party. It was a monthly bdsm party.
These parties were initially started at the home of Dan and Irene, two switches. They had become so popular, however, that the duo began looking for a larger venue. It was Irene who actually discovered an old warehouse, that had been sitting idle for years. With the contacts Dan had at city hall they were able to obtain a license, which also allowed them to serve liquor on the premises, as well as, use this building for the couple’s original purpose.
Olivia felt mixed emotions about covering such an event. Most people she knew thought that anybody who was into bdsm were nothing but a bunch of weirdo perverts. Maybe so. Yet, when her boss assigned the twenty-five year old brunette to this party, her mind drifted back to her college days.
She thought about the time when Olivia and her two female roommates played a game in their dorm. It was a drinking game, where the loser had to submit to a spanking. The journalism student was feeling light and giddy that evening agreed. Unfortunately, it was she who ended up getting spanked the most. The spankings were given out bare-bottomed, which meant the loser had to lower her panties and lean over the winner’s lap. Of course she yelped and squirmed while a hand landed repeatedly on her upturned buttocks, but much to her surprise she definitely got wet. And when it was her turn to deliver a spanking, she loved the feel of having a soft body lying across her lap, and she liked smacking the bouncing buns as well.
In the evening before the party the five-foot four, one hundred ten pound reporter was trying to decide what she should wear to a bdsm party. Obviously there’d be a lot of leather worn. She thought about that leather skirt she had, as well as the black leather boots. What about a top? After all she was going there on assignment, so she didn’t want to wear something too provocative. She pulled out a tan colored blouse that was dressy enough but not see-through that buttoned down the middle.
As she drove toward the address she had, Olivia felt two emotions. Officially she had to keep up a business-like manner, yet she also felt some excitement. She must stay focused, she told herself. She had to give a report to her boss on Monday.
This old warehouse was in a seedy part of town that contained nothing but burned out old buildings and dicey looking establishments. Why would anyone want to come here? However, the many automobiles she saw parked around the place told her something popular must be happening.
Standing in line at the opened wooden door behind people of both genders, appropriately dressed in the attire she expected to see, Olivia wondered if she looked out of place. The couple in front of her smiled back at her, but said nothing. In front of them an obviously dominant man held a leash that was attached to the o-ring in the wide leather collar of a mostly undressed female. Not to be outdone, however, in front of them was a leather clad Mistress who was holding a chain that controlled two separate metal clamps that were attached to her male slave’s nipples.
One by one each person paid the fee of twenty dollars and received a black stamp on their wrist before they were admitted. Wide-eyed, Olivia was astounded by what she saw as her jaw dropped. Sounds of people talking, smacks that made resounding contact with buttocks and shrieks of agonizing torture were mingled as Olivia entered the vast playground. All around the room scenes of various degrees were unfolding. In addition men as well as women, dominants and submissives were walking around dressed mostly in leather, but there was plenty of lace as well. The newspaper reporter was pleased that she wore her leather skirt and boots.
She also noted the presence of some burly looking bouncers, and a long bar along the adjacent wall to her left. Even the bartenders were dressed in black leather.
As she strolled around watching the various scenes, she noted that none was forced to submit to anyone. It was all consensual. That’s what made bdsm so special. In reality it was the submissive who says “yes”. Nobody got whipped or spanked against their will, and there was plenty of both going on here. Olivia saw one young lady who was naked and being stretched on a rack with clamps on her nipples and labia. Another guy was suspended by his wrists and being double teamed by a femdom duo. One lady was spanking his reddening buttocks with a wide wooden paddle, while her partner was using a riding crop on his cock when he swung forward. . .and from the looks of his hard-on he was enjoying it.
For anyone into bdsm this place was a haven. They could practice their prurient interests to a fare-thee-well, with no interference from the law. Anything went here, as long as a submissive was not put into actual danger by the scene, in which case the bouncers had authority to stop it.
Olivia was mesmerized by this place, both from a reporters standpoint as well as from a personal one. Boy, would she ever have a story for her boss! Then she snickered at the thought of him being into this. For that matter, what people did for a living was irrelevant here. Everybody present was here for only one purpose. They came in all genders, races, short people, tall people, heavy set folks, as well as slender ones.
The newspaper woman thought she’d seen it all until she came upon a particular scene that just blew her away. A nude young lady who was similar in age and stature as Olivia was suspended by her wrists with her back facing outward. A slender, medium built, sandy haired man clad in leather pants with a black harness criss-crossing his back and chest swung a wide wooden paddle toward her waiting buttocks. In what seemed like no time her buns went from alabaster white to cherry red. But what amazed Olivia was that this slender lady took that hard spanking without so much as a whimper. The reporter thought about that time with her roommates in college, and suddenly felt like a wuss thinking about how she squirmed and hollered from just a hand on her rump.
The self-assured dominant then exchanged the paddle for a small whip that had a short, black handle with one strand only about two inches long. Slowly walking around the suspended woman’s body, he gently flicked the strand all over her, essentially teasing her. . .Olivia thought even she could take that one. Then the man switched again, this time to a longer whip that had two strands. Once again he lightly flicked them all over her lithe body with no outward reaction from the whippee. Then he switched yet again to another one with six tails and repeated the previous action with a bit more force. . .Olivia cringed a bit, but once again the suspended young woman showed no negative response. Then he went to a ten-tailed flogger. The sharp snaps could be heard throughout the vast room, and the newspaper reporter couldn’t take her eyes off this scene.
By now, the submissive female was emitting outward yelps each time the lashes fell. But the man was far from done with her. He exchanged this flogger for a full length one, which had thirteen tails on it. The whipped woman’s back, buttocks, breasts, tummy and thighs felt the hard thwaps. More than ever, Olivia’s eyes were riveted on this scene as chills went up her spine. She noted the vivid stripes that marked the woman’s body, but she also noticed, admirably, that the expert flagellant never broke her skin.
But the finale was still to come. . . Hanging up the flogger, the man cooly walked over and picked up a full length bull whip. Olivia’s mouth dropped. Surely he wasn’t going use that on this little lady. Dragging the long piece of leather along the floor until he stopped just to the left of the young lady’s already marked body, the man took a firm grip on the black handle. The large room fell silent as onlookers, most of whom had stopped their own scenes to witness this, waited pensively. Then carefully measuring the distance, he brought the lash forward and snapped it like a rifle shot across her back, which forced a loud thrusting response from her lips. Olivia couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A young lady was being brutally whipped, but she was not being assaulted. Another shot across her back and two more across her already reddened derriere had the compliant young woman hanging limply by her wrists.
It was pretty obvious to the reporter that this couple had worked together before, and that the submissive had indeed consented to this. And while the rest of the room applauded, the man calmly put away the bull whip, released the young lady from her bonds and hugged her. To the reporter’s amazement, she merely thanked him and went on her way as if it were old hat.
Olivia would never forget that scene until her dying day, and it would easily be the highlight of her report. She was so taken by it, that the dark haired journalist sought out the freshly whipped woman to get her take on what had just occurred. Tina, it turns out, had indeed worked with Master Bob many times before. And no, she wouldn’t trust just any dominant to use a bull whip on her.
Continuing her coverage of this underground event, the normally calm young reporter wandered through the crowd as the smacks and the shrieks continued. To folks in the vanilla world this would indeed be perverted and weird, but to these people in this building tonight this was just normal activity.
At this point Olivia wondered to herself. Could she take a spanking with a wooden paddle? Could she herself take clamps on her nipples? Could she take a whipping? . . . Why was she getting wet between the legs thinking about it? . . . “Get a grip!” she told herself. “Your on official business!”
She spotted Master Bob sitting at the bar taking a deserved refresher break For a split second, the image of herself being suspended by her wrists like Tina flashed across her mind. She could feel her heart pounding as she walked up to him, but Olivia felt a professional obligation to obtain his side of what just happened.
Politely introducing herself as a reporter from The Orbit, she complimented him on that last scene and she wondered if she could ask him some questions. “Well Ms. Brewster,” he replied in a soft, friendly tone, “as long as it’s bdsm related . . . because I wouldn’t answer anything personal.” “I can assure you sir, I won’t ask anything personal,” she said with an even smile as she took a seat on the stool beside him.
“Want a drink before we start?” he asked in a bright tone. He was so polite and charming, how could she refuse. “A ‘Bloody Mary’ please,” she said to the bartender. Efficiently, the red colored drink was sitting in front of her in what seemed like two seconds.
“Now,” she began in an engaging tone. “ What is your name?” Tina had already told Olivia his name, but she wanted this to sound official. “Bob. . . but if I’m in a scene, I’m known as ‘Master Bob’.” She started to ask another question, but he stopped her. “But you may just call me ‘Bob’ for this interview.” “Yes sir,” she said with a smile. His eyes were glued to hers at this point, as if he were trying to read her mind.
“And how long have you been into bdsm, Bob?” she coninued.
“Oh about twenty years, give or take a few.”
“And how long have you been playing with the lady you just whipped?”
“Only about three years actually, she took it well right away. However, I didn’t start using the bullwhip on her until about a year ago.”
“Is she your regular submissive?”
“No she isn’t, but she always seems to show up here, and she’s fun to play with, and her stamina is amazing!”
At that point Olivia gasped. “I’ll say it is. There’s no way I could take a bullwhip!” After saying that, the reporter realized she’d just opened a door for him. His facial expression was one of eyebrow-raising surprise, “Most people couldn’t Olivia, but Tina has a high degree of tolerance. I wouldn’t expect a novice to be at that level. . . Have you ever thought about it?”
That question hit the newspaper woman right between her legs. Temporarily lost for words, the normally loquacious reporter stammered, “Well I.. . .” Bob politely interrupted, “It’s alright to admit that you get turned on by what you’ve witnessed here tonight.” Olivia could feel her cheeks redden, as well as this conversation turn. “Even newspaper reporters can get wet, Olivia,” he said with a leer. He was reading her like a book . . .
Knowing he had touched a nerve within her, Bob lowered his voice so only she could hear him. Nervously, the wide-eyed woman took a quick gulp of her drink, and anxiously waited for him to speak. When the words came out they hit her again between the legs, “Would you like to be my slave, Olivia?” Knowing how competent he is, the stunned woman looked straight into his dark brown eyes . . . This wasn’t supposed to be happening! She was on an assignment! Things were happening too fast. She was searching her brain for an answer to his query. This man, who she had just met twenty minutes ago, had aroused a feeling that had been smoldering for years. She could just refuse and walk away from him. She knew he wouldn’t force her to stay, but another chance like this might not come around anytime soon.
Following his lead, she lowered her voice to almost a whisper and after clearing her throat responded, “Yes Sir.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want Olivia?” he asked in a quiet, confidant tone. Closing her eyes momentarily she repeated her previous response, after which he casually reached over and caressed the side of her face.
“Now you know why I smiled at you when you called me ‘sir’ earlier. And by the way, that’s how you will address me from this point on, slave!” That word had a profound effect on her as she instinctively lowered her eyes. “Yes Sir.”
“Very well then,” he continued. “Since this official interview is over, I want you to get off that stool and turn around!” Obeying him instantly, the dark-haired reporter gave a slight start when she felt the leather cuffs go around her slender wrists, pinning her arms behind her back. Then ordering her to face him, Bob reached for the top button of her tan blouse. “Let’s see what I’m getting,” he said in a business like tone. His boldness startled her at first, but since most of people here were in various stages of undress, and some were outright naked, she really didn’t feel out of place. On the other hand, Olivia felt strange being undressed by someone whom she just met, especially in public.
Once the bottom button was undone, the soft material parted showing a white bra covering an average set of breasts. “Tsk, tsk,” Bob teased her. “I do not allow any of my slaves to wear a bra!” “Sorry Sir,” is all she could say. At that point he whipped out a Swiss Army knife saying, “I will relieve you of this thing, and you will never again wear one in my presence!”
Carefully, the dominant man slid the blade underneath the separation between the cups and sliced outward. Olivia’s face showed some displeasure from having her bra destroyed, but obediently she remained silent. After snipping both shoulder straps it became a simple matter of snatching the garment from her body. Bob then gave the sliced up material to the bartender, and told him to discard it.
Olivia couldn’t believe what had just occurred, as she stood there braless with her wrists cuffed behind her in a room full of strangers. . . and yet she somehow felt perfectly at ease with the situation.
“Now let’s have a look at you,” Bob said softly as he held the blouse open so he could get an unobstructed view of her tits. “Very nice Olivia, we can do a lot with these,” he continued as he very gently began massaging her breasts. Fingering the nipples to hardness, he was pleased when she closed her eyes and sighed deeply from the erotic feeling.
Disappointed when he released her sensitive nubs she gasped however, when she saw him pull an object out of the pocket of his leather pants. Shed’ heard about nipple clamps, but this was the first time she’d seen a pair up close. “Now don’t worry,” he said trying to dissuade her fears. “These are the adjustable kind. I can screw them on tight or loose.”
“Since you’re a beginner,” he continued, “ I’d just put them on so you’d feel it, but the pain will not be unbearable. And since I have no idea what your threshold is, we must experiment.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Listen carefully Olivia.. . .When I put one on, take a gulp of breath, then let it out slowly, okay?”
“Yes Sir.” she replied trustingly.
“You can do this. Tina acted the same way when I first put them on her,” Bob said softly as he pointed the first clamp toward her hardened right nipple. Olivia cringed when it went on and Bob encouraged her, “Breathe Olivia!…atta girl!..now let it out.” Repeating the sequence of the other nipple, the dominant man was actually impressed by how well she took them.
Waiting a moment for her to get used to the clamps, Bob then ordered his new slave to her knees. Testing her obedience he ordered her to bend over and kiss his boots. Without hesitation she complied, and he smiled, for he knew he’d picked a winner as she placed her lips on top of each shiny boot.
Reaching down Bob then lifted her face upward with a finger at her chin. “I will accept you as my slave Olivia, but our initial scene together will not be here.”
“Yes Sir,” she replied softly as her heart raced.
“I will give you my address and I want you there at precisely 2 o’clock, that’s one hour after this place closes.”
“Yes Sir.”
“This was merely a test to find out if you are willing and able to be my slave.”
“Yes Sir.”
***
While Olivia, the newspaper reporter turned slave, drove toward her new Master’s house she thought of what she had gotten herself into. She started out this evening covering a bdsm party for the newspaper she worked for. After witnessing some erotic scenes – and one particular brutal whipping – she met a man who turned an interview with him into controlling her like she was a rag doll. At this moment she felt like He was actually steering the wheel of her car and pushing down the gas pedal.
She swallowed hard when she pulled into the driveway of a large house in the suburbs. Bob lives here! “What does he do for a living?”she wondered. Then walking up the steps, she noticed a squawk box with a button attached to the wall next to the front door. Pushing the button firmly she heard his voice answer. “Olivia?” “Yes Sir, I’m here!” she replied. “Very good, slave. You’re right on time. Now listen to me. . .Phillip, my butler will let you in. You obey each instruction he gives you.” “Yes Sir.”
A second later the door opened. A tall, slender gentleman who reminded Olivia of Mr. Spock in Star Trek beckoned her to enter the house. When she did, he immediately told her to follow him through the living room and down a corridor, where he politely opened a door and held it open so she could enter in front of him.
It was a large walk-in closet, with hangers all around the walls. Without showing any emotion, he looked at Olivia and said, “Give me all of your clothes!” Hesitant about stripping in front of a strange man, she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Phillip. He merely stated calmly, “Either do it or I must tell you to leave Ms. Brewster.”
“Since I’ve come this far I might as well comply,” she thought. Hesitantly, she reached for the top button of her blouse. “Master Bob does not like being kept waiting,” he said with a slight annoyance to his tone. That verbal kick in the butt spurred her on to a full divestiture until she was standing in front of the butler totally naked.
“Very well,” he said evenly as he handed her a pair of nipple clamps. “Put them on,” he said as she gasped slightly. “Master Bob has told me he tested you…now put them on and stop stalling!” Cringing during each application of these biting implements, Olivia breathed outwardly just as Master Bob had showed her. “Excellent,” Phillip complimented. “Now turn around.” After he attached the leather cuffs to her wrists, he placed a wide leather collar around her neck and hooked a three foot leather leash to the o-ring.
Then tugging on the leash Phillip guided a now naked newspaper-reporter-turned-slave resolutely down the steps that lead to Master Bob’s dungeon. Olivia was fearful of being in a new situation, and yet excited about it as well.
Once she stood in front of the maple wooden door, the butler left her alone. She thought he would come immediately to admit her. . . but she waited. . . and waited. She was growing restless. . . the anticipation was driving her nuts! He was doing this on purpose, she thought. . . but she couldn’t just leave.
Her legs were beginning to ache when she thought she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Finally the door opened, and she heard his voice. . .
“Are you ready, slave?”
“Yes Sir!”
And. . .So it begins
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On The Job, 8.0 out of 10 based on 8 ratings

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