Excerpt 1 - Jane

 

She was younger than most of the accounts team, but his staff trusted his decision making ability implicitly. After all he was making a lot of money for the business, and for his employees. He always paid his key employees more than the standard rate; it was worth it in the end. So Jane's appointment hadn't raised too many eyebrows. But once she was installed in her brand new corner office just down the corridor from his, Edward had begun to exert the sort of psychological pressure that had always interested him.

At first it had been relatively small things, demands on her time out of hours. A subtle alteration of her job description to increase her workload. Then it slowly ramped up to randomly instructing her to report to him a couple of days earlier than they'd originally agreed, or maybe denying receipt of an important email, or once accessing her computer to delete a week's worth of important information.

What interested him, as it always did, was her reaction to the various setbacks that he placed in her way. He could remember his delight the first time he made her cry, insisting that she missed a family occasion to do some pointless paperwork that he'd pretended was vital. He'd been lucky in his first choice of victim, he'd realized. A young, quite naïve woman grateful to his for giving her first big break in the business world.

Looking back she was almost too easy to bully and to manipulate. She'd reluctantly bent across her own desk to receive a spanking across the seat of her obviously expensive pants-suit.for some pretend error that he'd created. From then on it had progressed exponentially. A skirt up spanking over his knees, an official reprimand made public to the rest of her staff. What excited him as much as anything was her brave little attempts to pretend that everything was still okay. She'd come in earlier and work later, unconscious of the fact that her own boss was actively working to undermine her.

 

 

Excerpt 2 - Miranda

 

Six months went by before he paid Ms Dalby a visit at her nice apartment in the city. Well, him and a couple of acquaintances. Three to be exact, three tough boys who each gave her a good fucking while Edward watched and filmed it on his state of the art video camera. She was then held over the back of her own sofa while Edward applied his thick, leather belt to her backside and thighs until they were glowing. They'd had to gag her with her own underwear, but that was hardly an onerous task. Indeed Edward rather enjoyed her terrified, bulged-eye look.

While the boys wandered her apartment, inspecting her drawers and cupboards and taking anything that took their fancy, Edward rolled Miranda Dalby on to her knees and then spread them wide. He pulled her scorched cheeks apart and spat neatly into her anus. He worked a finger into her, ignoring her little bleats of distress. He looked across at the clock on her mantelpiece, by his reckoning they had about ten more minutes.

Unhurriedly he removed his invasive finger and then unzipped himself. He played with himself for a minute or so, enjoying her submission and playing back the events in his mind. He got himself nice and hard and then thrust himself inside her. She shrieked in a mixture of surprise and pain. Edward forced himself further inside her. Her evident shame at what he was doing to her simply spurred him on as he pushed aggressively in and out. He took a firm grasp on her blonde hair and tugged at it.

It didn't take him long to ejaculate inside her. He pulled out and quickly tidied himself up. Before he left he helped himself to a pair of discarded knickers and her laptop. He whistled the boys and pointed to his watch. Within seconds the three of them had disappeared out of the front door. Before he followed them, Edward took an envelope from the inside of his jacket and made the terrified young blonde take it between her teeth. One more slap to her backside and he was gone.

 

 

Excerpt 3 - Dr Helen Sharma

 

Then she'd gone for her purse and taken out a chequebook. How much did he want? This made him laugh outright rather than just smile. She wasn't to know that he didn't need the money, but the idea that he, a blackmailer, would take a cheque did amuse him somewhat. He noticed as her lower lip began to tremble. Although he was very much looking forwards to her tears, it didn't seem sensible for her to make a scene in this very upmarket place, at this particular time.

Instead he explained that he didn't particularly want to send the photos, or indeed the lengthy video to her colleagues, or her family for that matter. He would, for example, much rather spend some time with her. The look of shock on her beautiful, rather haughty face was almost enough on its own. He told her he was going to finish his coffee, and then they were going to go for a walk together. And then, before she could answer, told her that unless she behaved herself, the first recipient of the video would be social media.

She visibly blanched at that piece of information. He could see the cogs in her head whirring around as she digested the news. What she had to lose, what her girlfriend had to lose, the shame her family would have to endure. He could feel the familiar pressure in his pants as he watched her pretty face crumble and the first tears begin to slide down her perfect cheeks. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin from the table.

"While I'm finishing my drink, I want you to go to the ladies and take off your knickers. What colour are your knickers by the way? And then I want you to bring them to back me in your hand."

He could remember his instructions to her in perfect detail. Also the look of complete shock on her face. Those were the sort of memories that money just couldn't buy. He could even remember what she was wearing on their first 'date'. A very pretty, smoke grey blouse over some sort of indistinguishable bra, a dark blue, knee-length pencil skirt, grey nylons, and blue, medium-heeled court shoes. And of course, he could remember her reply.

"Blue."

Even the single word was sexy, especially as she said it in her precise, upper-class way while wiping away her tears. He'd sent her on her way and settled back to enjoy the last dregs of his coffee. Would she come back? He was fairly sure she would. Would she maybe call the police? Why would she? She and her partner had so much to lose. He hadn't really expanded on Miss Daphne Lark's role in all this. He'd left that for the delightful Miss Sharma to worry over. And he had no doubt that was exactly what she was doing out there in the bathroom.

His patience was rewarded. Five minutes later she reappeared, slightly flustered perhaps and her left hand bunched up. She retook her seat and then slowly put her hand out, as if expecting him to reciprocate. He had merely sat with his hands in his lap. She bit her lower lip and looked at him pleadingly.

"P...please, you said..."

"Leave them on the desk for me, Miss Sharma."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it.

"Miss Sharma!"

His voice took on a harder edge. He was interested in seeing how she would react to an order rather than a request. Slowly, painfully slowly, she opened her hand and deposited a small heap of sky blue nylon on the table. For a moment, Edward didn't move. He just sat and watched the colour seep up her beautiful face. She raised her eyes to his, as if willing for him to snatch her knickers up off the tablecloth and hide them somewhere. Instead he casually leaned forward and picked them up with the thumb and forefinger of both hands.

He watched her appalled face as he carefully examined her silken underwear. He could remember now how warm it still was in his hand and the look of sheer panic on her face as he held the delectable, delicate, lace-edged scrap up to his nose before inhaling deeply and loudly. Just to his left he noticed an elderly gentleman and his wife start to pay attention to what was going on. He held up the knickers to the light and heard a muffled 'Good Lord!" from the old gent's direction.

"Come, Miss Sharma," he said as he left a large denomination bank note on the table. "We should be going."