Frankfurt, part I
A Madame de Bonne-Fin.
". and for the last four years, the compared growth of our companies shows that, while IFR increased its shares by 25 % in Southern Europe , GRD mbH consolidated its positions in Central Europe by buying or merging with local companies."
For the third of fourth time, Isabelle, the junior analyst, went through the figures. I no longer listened to her, trying to read the faces of the men sitting over the meeting table. They all looked the same, as if cast from the same mould. Grey faces, grey eyes, grey suits, gray folders, grey, grey, grey... It was two days now that we came to Frankfurt, to meet our counterparts, and finalize the merging of IFR and GRD. But from the beginning, things went wrong. Without notice, the Germans began to discuss already agreed issues, wanted to review figures and charts that had been reviewed over and over again for the last months. What should have been a pleasant stroll turned into a nightmare. I couldn't come back to headquarters without that agreement. I couldn't tell the CEO and the board that I failed. Moreover, this failure would hurt my staff more than it would affect me. It could ruin their career, it would blow their future. In the hard, merciless world of finance, one defeat could bring your bright potential to a dead-end.
". our two companies would then lead the European market, and rank 4th on the world market. This would bring the shares above their highest level of '04 by at least 34%, hence creating an estimated net profit of 23 to 26 _ per share."
I turned to Isabelle, gently landing my hand on her forearm:
"Excuse me if I interrupt you, your presentation is brilliant."
Facing the grey men that sat in front of us, I told them:
"Gentlemen, it's now 11:30. We have been talking about this issue since 8:30 this morning, as we did all day yesterday, to no avail. If you agree, we shall close the meeting and start again at 15:30. In the meanwhile, we shall refer to our headquarters, figure new solutions and come back to you with new proposals that shall be, or so I hope, at your convenience".
There were nods on the other side, and without a word, my party left the room and headed for the conference room the hotel had provided. As soon as the door closed, they all burst at once:
"But, Philipp, you know we cannot change the data." "Maybe if we gave them a few extra percent from the asset of GlobalNet; they would agree on the Hungaro-Export issue."
I cut my team short:
"Listen, I do not want you to bring new solutions for now. You have all worked hard; we are all tired and exhausted. I know it, and what we are going to do for the next hours is to unwind, to relax. Use the fitness or swimming facilities of the hotel. Have a glass at the bar. An enjoyable lunch. Do what ever you like, but stop thinking about this, and when we shall meet again, I will listen to you, and I'll give you my ideas, and we shall work a new strategy. See you at 14:45, same place."
I left them flabbergasted, and headed for the lift.
While I watched the dull landscape from the glass panels that surrounded the cabin, I wondered if I had taken the right decision. So many things could go wrong at that stage; but then, things couldn't go worse. And a leader has to make decisions, right or wrong, for a wrong decision is better than no decision at all.
When the car stopped at the 15th floor, I brushed the matter away. All I wanted was to take a long bath, listen to some classical music, and relax.
As I entered the room, I stopped in my tracks. Someone had drawn the curtains; the only light was coming from the bedside lamp. In the dim light, I noticed that someone was seated in an armchair facing the door. A silhouette was framed by the light that shone behind her. A silhouette I would recognize among thousands. The long blond hair, the ear pendants, sending tiny sparkles of blue and yellow, the narrow shoulders, the left hand holding a cigarette whose smoke drew blue swirls in the dim light. And then, the smell hit me, the unmistakable smell of expensive perfume and Turkish tobacco, the very smell of my beloved Mistress.
She was here! A gust of joy and exhilaration burst in me. She was here, my Lady, the delight of my life, the pearl of my nights. Without thinking, without wondering how she had known I was here, in this very room, at this very moment, I performed the now long established ritual that ruled all our meetings. I stepped in, and, at a few paces distance from her, I went to my knees, bent down and landed my lips on the tip of her high-heeled boot. Again, I was hit by the smell, the pungent smell of leather and shoe polish. Images started to swirl into my mind, echoing souvenirs, remnants of emotions that overcame me .
The long hours she had me kneeling at her feet, waxing and brushing her boots, until they shone perfectly. The sharp commands, the punishment she gave me if she wasn't satisfied with the result. The first time I begged her to scourge me, holding the riding crop on a silver tray before me. The warm, gratifying feeling I had when she pinched my nipples. The night she had me walk the empty streets dressed like a whore, while she followed me in the safe and warm comfort of her car. The pleasure she offered me, like a present from heaven, when she allowed me to come for her. The dreary mornings when my whole body ached, when remorse bit hard, when tears ran down, when I wanted to leave her forever. The evening when, all pride swallowed, I came back to her, attracted by the animal magnetism she radiated. The two years we spent together, since that night when she became my Mistress. The everlasting feeling of surrender, confidence and fulfillment I felt when let myself fall into her entire control.
She cut me away from my reverie.
"I have been waiting for you"
Still kneeling, I answered: "I'm so sorry to have you kept waiting, Madame, so sorry."
"I called your PA, and she gave me your address here. I wanted to surprise you, to take you off guard. How is your business going?"
"It isn't going very well, Madame, that's why I came here early. To leave the subject aside and to change my mind. But what I wish is of no importance, Madame, I'm here at your service."
"Well. When shall you go back to your meeting?"
"At 14:45, Madame".
She glanced at her watch, a heavy men's chronograph of white gold that made her wrist look frail:
"Go get ready, your clothes are in the bathroom", she snapped.
I felt my knees weaken, my heart missing a beat. I couldn't do that, I had to think about the coming meeting, and I had to read again the draft agreement, and to cross check the latest figures headquarters had e-mailed, and. But the bare look of her eyes, her eyes that were both chilling and burning, both loving and hurting melted all my will power, all my resolution. I heard myself croaking:
"Yes, Madame, at your will", and headed for the bathroom.
There, I found the clothes she had brought for me. I undressed, took a quick shower. By luck, I had been to the beauty parlor a few days before, so my body was smooth and hairless, except for a tiny patch on my groin. I fastened around my hips a purple waist cincher, embroidered with roses, on which I attached a pair of seamed stockings; I put the assorted silken lacy panties on. I slipped in pair of high heeled sandals. I checked the seams in the full size mirror, they were perfectly vertical. The panties were always too tight, and would be more so later, when my cock would expand and try to escape from its silky prison. I would usually add make up, a touch of frosted almond lipstick, a shade of green on my eye lids. But she hadn't prepared any make up today. I smiled inwardly at my image. I was no longer Philipp, the powerful executive; I was Sophie, a creature of desire designed for the pleasure of my beloved Mistress.
When I entered the room, she was still seated in the armchair, as if she hadn't moved since I left the room.
"You look beautiful, Sophie, come closer. yes, that's very good. turn around.
I smiled inwardly at her compliments, and did as she requested. I paced the room, stumbling a little on my high heels, but eager to please her, to put a show for her. I turned around, swaying my hips, my bare buttocks; and her looks were like burning darts on my flesh. But I knew more burning was to come. She had me sit like a model, hands on my hips, or with my legs spread, or turned to the wall, looking at her over my shoulder. I felt like a centerfold from a girlie magazine, exposed and unashamed.
After a while, she had me pick up the breakfast tray and bring it to her. She had cleared it from the kettle, the cups, and replaced these items by less innocent ones. But this was only a guess, since she had them covered by a white cloth. Bowing deeply, I put the tray on the low table beside her armchair and stood before her, waiting.
She got up, and started to move around me. I shivered as I felt her long fingernails lightly grazing my skin, following my backbone from shoulders to bottom. With her fingers, she brushed my face, following the line of the jaw, brushing my lips. She took a silken scarf from around her neck and knotted it over my eyes. I felt confident, I trusted her, but at the same time, I felt uneasy, left alone in the dark.
"Humm, she whispered at my ear, how lovely you are, my sexy creature, how smooth and soft, just the way I like you."
She withdrew for a moment; I heard her rummaging with the objects she had placed on the tray. A hiss of silk, a hint of perfume, she was near me again. I felt the soft, moist tip of a lipstick tracing my lips, painting them in a color I couldn't guess. And I regretted it deeply, for the color was a guess of what would follow. Should the color be a pale shade of pink, her treatment would be smooth and gentle, a tender blend of humiliation and exposure. Should it be dark, virulent red. then she would be fierce and violent, punishment and pain would await me. But then, in the dark she confined me, I could do nothing but wait, and expect, and hope that.
"There you are, my creature, my sexy, slutty creature. Tell me how much you love me, when I treat you like the little bitch you want to be".
Her voice, a low, husky rasp; close to my ear, sent a shot of blood direct to my cock.
"Oui, Madame, I love to be nothing else than the object of your desires"
"Good, very good. you know how much I enjoy playing with you, when you're obedient and submissive, when you're ready to do anything to please me."
She let her voice trail, while her fingers danced all over my skin, designing intricate patterns from chin to thighs, and up again, from buttocks to shoulder blades. Her nails sometimes dug lightly into my flesh, and I shivered at the biting feeling.
She took my hand in her, placing two tiny, cold, metallic objects in my palm.
"Do it for me."
I recognized the ear clips she wore moments ago. Obediently, I started to tickle my nipples, the left one, the right one, until they were hard. I felt her smooth lips kissing them lightly, sweetly, sucking and nibbling, teasing. When she felt they were erect enough for her taste, she hung the clips on it. The rubber pads clamped the sensitive flesh in such a sweet way I moaned with pleasure. Both nipples adorned with her jewels, she played and pulled at my buds, each pull bringing me closer and closer to the bliss of pain and pleasure. My aching cock tried to escape its lacy prison, pulsing with desire.
Again, she left me, alone in the dark. She knew how I hated it. I can stand almost everything, but not knowing what awaits me is worst than anything. But then, that's the purpose of blindfolds, isn't it?
All of a sudden, she smacked my ass, a vicious slap of the Hermes riding crop we had chosen together. I tried not to wince, not to move, but she hit me again, and I had to collect all my will not to escape the fire and ice gnaws of the leather. The thin fabric of my lacy panties was to thin to protect me. She alternated soothing words, gentle caresses and then, slap! The crop would land on my ass, biting my soft flesh. I felt tears gathering behind my closed eyelids, she couldn't see it, but she must have guessed, for she ended her whipping, as suddenly as she had started it. She knew how to push my limits, but never overstepping them. With tender care, she helped me out of my panties, whispering comforting and caring words, words that eased my pain and made me feel I could have stood more. Next time, to please her, to serve her deeper, I will stand more.
When the frail fabric of the panties slid over my cock, it jumped out of its prison, jerking like a spring. I felt the flat tip of the crop wandering over it, from tip to ball; and I wished, "Oh no, please. this hurts so much." For what seemed an eternity, she teased and tormented, playing with my fear and emotions, withdrawing her instrument, preparing for a blow, and while I gathered my strength to stand it, the touch came back, gentle and soft. I moaned, helpless and fearful, and she knew I was close to the edge. She came back:
"Shh, shhh. don't worry, dear, you know I just want to play with you, to tease you, to tickle your nice cock."
I tried to relax, but then, at mid sentence. she hit me, plain across the shaft. Not a hard blow, not a painful one, really. Only to remind me that I belonged to her, that when I stood there, ready for her, she could do anything to me. This was part of the faith and trust we shared. I had to trust her, if I wanted to belong to her.
When the aftermath of her last stroke faded, she gently pushed me on the shoulder, down to my knees. She resumed her position in the facing armchair, then asked me to remove the blindfold. In the meanwhile, she had taken the cloth that covered the tray away, revealing what lay on it. The lipstick. The crop. The strap- on dildo.
We remained silent for a long while, me kneeling, hands resting on my thighs, eyes downcast; she, her spiky heeled boot dangling from her foot.
"It's time for you to go, Sophie", she said.
I got up, heading for the bathroom. When I passed near her chair, she gripped my wrist, forcing me to a halt.
"Look at me, my love, I want to see lust, and disappointment in your eyes".
I looked at her, at her bright shiny eyes. With her free hand, she stroked the latex penis that lay on the tray.
"When you come back, and if you succeed, it will be for you, tonight."
A wave of pleasure overwhelmed me. I would be hers. I had to succeed. I had to please her.
"Yes, Madame, I'll be back, and succeed, for you", I answered, eyed gleaming with anticipation.
While I undressed in the bathroom, removing the waist cincher and the stockings, I felt her presence, leaning on the door frame.
"No, keep those on, my dear. It will remind you of what you are, deep inside you. A little female slut".
A few moments later, I was waiting for my team to gather in the conference room. I was ready to face anything, any objection the Germans would raise. Nothing and nobody could resist my will, rejuvenated by the power my mistress had given me. Under the starched white shirt, the tightly knotted silk tie, the black pinstripe suit, I wore a pair of purple female panties, with embroidered roses.