I'd always had a bit of an ego thing. As a nerd, I had always thought I was smarter than most girls. There I was building computers while they were spending their time on makeup and gossiping about Hollywood celebrities. I had also thought myself smarter than most boys who were obsessed with sex and sports.

And it didn't hurt that I spent most of my time with nerdy guys who were obsessed with me. Not that I thought, objectively, I was that great a beauty. I was pretty, sure, and had a pretty nice body. But I didn't have the long legs and the giant breasts guys seemed to go nutty over.

But as a nerd, I spoke their language. They saw me as one of them, only a lot better looking. That meant unlike the tall, busty Playboy types, they saw me as a lot more available, a lot less likely to laugh at them, a lot more likely to put out. And there were a lot more nerd boys than girls. So I had pretty much always been the subject of guys panting after me, wanting me, wanting to touch me, to see me naked.

You would not believe how many hacking attempts I had defeated on my computer, a lot of them trying to hijack my web-cam in hopes of seeing me getting undressed! If I announced I was going swimming, half the guys I knew would be down there with binoculars and cameras with telephoto lenses!

So all of that had kind of been an ego thing, despite the fact I wasn't really that into guys. Oh, I had lots of sexual fantasies, for I was always a pretty imaginative girl, but those were things which I couldn't possibly experience in real life. Or at least, I hadn't thought they were.

Being a sex slave had kind of been one of those fantasies, sort of, though not exactly. I had had fantasies about being dominated, being forced, by big, powerful, muscular men. And like a lot of white girls in America I had that cultural thing which was partly racist, about a Black man doing me. Though to be honest, I'd been even less impressed with most of the black guys I knew than the white ones. Sexist bastards, I'd thought.

But there was sexist an then there was... Mr. Blake. His view of me as a sexual play-toy, his casual assumption that he could order me to do anything I wanted, and punish me for failing, was quite simply breathtaking in its degree of outrageousness. He was so outrageous that his belief simply could not be true. Therefore, it was a persona, an act. But he did it so well...

Sex was okay, or had been, but sex with Blake... sex with Blake blew my mind. Almost literally. In fact, maybe it was literal. I felt different after one day with him. I felt like a changed person, as if the incredible stress and shocking pleasure had fractured something in my mind, had broken something down which used to be there.

I felt more sexual, felt more attractive, more sophisticated for what I'd been through. None of the girls I know had ever done anything that wild, that shocking, after all. No girl I knew had allowed herself to be used like a sex slave, tied up, spanked, strapped, roughly used, and all by a man I barely knew!

A man I had only just met, a man I knew literally nothing about other than he was a new vice president at the insurance company where I worked tech support. I knew he was big, tall, broad shouldered, good looking, smart, and strong-willed. Those were all pretty good traits, I guess. Once at his place to install his home PC link I had learned that underneath his tailored suit he was a Black Conan the Barbarian!

And that had basically taken my breath away, given all the wild fantasies I'd had about powerful barbarians and their 'swords'.

He hadn't asked me if he could do anything; he'd just done it!

I'd wakened the next morning in his bed, my arms shackled together under me, my collar chained to the head-post, wakened with his mouth on my sex, his incredible tongue driving impossibly deep into my body, a body which was already, by the time I wakened, in the throes of arousal.

Then he'd climbed atop me and driven his big cock deep into my body and rode me hard and fast, even violently. It had hurt, but that hadn't stopped me from coming.

He'd dropped me off at my place, thankfully, finally giving me an opportunity to get my head straight - mostly. I hadn't been able to think around him! But even at home I'd been rushed to get ready for work. Yoga pants and a long, loose sweater. I was too sore to want to wear more.

There were bite marks on my breasts, and I felt sore inside from the powerful pounding of his big black cock. But no one at work was going to see those. Likewise, no one was going to see what he'd insisted I wear from now on, including to work. And that was a butt-plug.

So he could fuck me in the ass any time he wanted!

I had never had anal sex, nor ever wanted to. Blake hadn't cared, and he'd made me come anyway. And it had felt so intense and so... sensual, to feel his slick cock sliding in and out of my ass! God! My whole attitude about sex was different, had been changed literally overnight!

And to remind me, I had a black butt-plug up my ass at work.

Only the small, coin shaped, flat base protruded. But I could feel the rest of it inside me, and I knew it was there, and why. And that made my mind squirm with a kind of dark, forbidden sense of arousal and excitement.

I wasn't wearing any underwear. He'd ordered me not to. Oh, I had a bra, because I was big enough that it would be noticed if I didn't wear one. I had no panties, though. And the soft, stretchy fabric of the yoga pants rubbed gently against my naked pussy as I moved. My pussy lips still felt sore and swollen, for they'd been stretched so very wide around his thickness.

I felt like a slut, but instead of shame the idea filled me with excitement, and even a little pride, for that was a concept of myself I'd never had, and would have dismissed with a laugh. I was so boring, after all, a nerd girl into computers. Me, a slut? Ha!

I slid into my cubicle just a few minutes late. Nobody really cared around there, though. IT was pretty relaxed. As long as you took care of your share of assignments they wouldn't bug you about things like lunches and breaks.

Over the next few minutes a lot of the other IT guys found a reason to stop by and say hello. I wasn't the only girl in the group but I was by far the youngest and, okay, don't think I'm a narcissist but, the hottest. Not that I generally used to think of myself as all that hot.

I felt a little kinky as we chatted, and felt a bit smug, for if any of them knew I had a big black butt-plug inside me they'd have had raging hard-ons. If they'd had the faintest idea of what had gone on yesterday they'd have come in their pants! Just thinking about it made my nipples hard!