Her Master Returns (Dark BDSM Erotica) Read Free

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everything, dear?” the kindly nurse asked, clearly doubting and
trying to coax out the truth.
    “Yes,” croaked Emily; then she added to her shame by actually
giving the truth. “I agreed!”
    It was a decisive moment - the final straw after so much
indignity. Lying on her front and hidden from view, tears fell as
the anal inspection was made and more swabs taken. They were tears
of disgust and abject sorrow that she had allowed herself to be in
this situation; that she had agreed to be in this current state:
battered, screwed and possibly infected – infected up the ass
because that’s where his cock had been the most and where he had
spilled his seed. And in her misery on the table, with a nurse
taking swabs from her well buggered rectum, Emily decided that
enough had to be enough. She determined to put this all behind her
as quickly as possible and never allow for a repeat. The sex might
have been a sensation, violent and orgasmic, wallowing in a
submission she found so fulfilling, but the consequences were
unacceptable to this fastidious woman, who was a paragon of
refinement and assertiveness in all other aspects of her
life.
    Having pretended to have visited her G.P. for a check up,
Emily was back in the office shortly after lunch, having received
the good news that the swabs had proved negative, although she
would have to wait a few days until the blood tests confirmed that
everything was clear. The mugging story was repeated to explain
away her facial marking, gaining Emily an unusual element of
sympathy. Even Tessa Clifford, her arch-rival from Human Resources,
showed an element of concern for Emily’s welfare, insisting that
she should take the rest of the day off, which Emily refused to do,
preferring to play the role of martyr.
    Of course it was normality that Emily sought, preferring to be
busy in the office rather than idle at home with Les fussing over
her as if she was an invalid. Having resolved to do so, she needed
to get back to where she once was – become the old Emily Johnson
again – a tight-assed, sharp-tongued, proper little madam who was
strong and assertive and didn’t take crap from anyone, including
some minion who worked on one of the floors below. She needed to
obliterate the memory of Her Nemesis and free herself from the
chains of his mastery.
    Not an easy task after all that had happened! But
nevertheless, Emily made a stab and attempted restoration: of a
prim and proper mind that had gone so terribly astray; and of a
body that ached for a variety of reasons and in places that had no
business hurting. In order to keep away from temptation, she
introduced some immediate changes into her routines; like making
sure she left work at a reasonable time, keeping an eye on the
office to ensure that there were always people around for her to
leave with. If she was to succeed in her plan to free herself from
her ruinous addiction, Emily knew she could never allow herself to
be caught alone again in the elevator, easy prey for the man who
seemed to know her every move and could play her like a hooked fish
on a line.
    For the next few days, Emily followed this strategy, using
time and people to protect her from Her Nemesis and her own
depraved nature that was being determinedly subdued. The elevator
had been the tool – the initial arena for their verbal intercourse,
and the means to take them to a physical level. By neutralising the
weapon, Emily hoped she might win the battle she was fighting. Even
still, she was nervous when she entered the elevator with
co-workers, dreading that the man would be there to torment and
goad her with his mean dark looks that were ever so fine, his manly
musk that drove her wild, or even some words spoken in public –
humiliating with revelations that she could never deny in his
presence. Thankfully that never happened.
    All through the following week Emily went about her business,
though a few other changes in her behaviour were observed. At home
she was a