Read Her Master Demands (Dark BDSM Erotica) for Free Online Page B

arranged the scarf as best she could –
fixed it over the collar and knotted it at the front. Flushing the
toilet that had never been used, Emily stealthily opened the door
and stuck her head outside. No one had come in, so she dared to
venture out, quickly walking over to a mirror where she could check
her appearance.
    The scarf definitely bulged around the neck, and hid her
beautiful pearls which she always proudly displayed. To Emily’s
knowing eye she could tell something was under it, but it didn’t
look too obvious. In a way that was good, but in another way bad:
she didn’t want it to be noticed – except by Her Master!
    “He’ll know anyway!” Emily told her reflection in the mirror.
“He’ll know without seeing it. He always seems to know. The man is
psychic.”
    Emily made some fine adjustments, checking her neck from a
variety of angles. Happy with the hidden collar that felt so
mischievous against her skin, she took the opportunity to attend to
her hair, tugging away at the expensively cut locks until it was in
the perfect state of coiffure dishevelment.
    Then bang – a bolt from the blue, and an unwelcome one at
that!
    She was just completing the finishing touches to her new look
when The Devil himself threw a curveball her way. The washroom door
opened and in walked Tessa Clifford, the head of Human Resources –
a woman that Emily loathed and detested, and her bitterest enemy in
the company. Tessa came to a halt. They glared at each other,
hatred briefly flashing unfettered before professional fake smiles
were forced onto lips.
    “Admiring yourself again, Emily!” bitched Tessa. “I swear
we’ll have to order new mirrors quite soon – you’ll have worn them
all out with your vanity.”
    “It’s not me the maintenance people need to worry about... At
least I don’t crack them, like your ugly face is rumoured to do,”
bitched Emily in reply.
    Normally one round of scathing remarks was their accepted
limit, and that should have finished the exchange. Sure that she’d
got the better of this one, Emily waited on Tessa stomping moodily
off into a cubicle. But much to Emily’s horror Tessa came and stood
beside her, staring into the same mirror, throwing reflected
daggers into Emily’s eyes.
    “See – it doesn’t crack,” gloated Tessa, “I might not be as
pretty as you with your inbred upper-class looks, but I’m still
attractive – at least some men think so. So you can go KISS MY ASS,
you stuck up little bitch!”
    Emily gawped at the woman’s image, so smug and assured. She
was stunned at her audacity, hating Tessa more than ever. And given
their history - that was quite some claim...
    They had known each other for over three years and been
enemies for the entire duration. An influential family friend had
recommended Emily for her current job, doing the ‘Old School Tie’
thing when the vacancy arose and approaching Donald Harper
directly, swinging the deal over dinner at his club. When Emily
came to the office a few days later to be formally interviewed, she
managed to do enough to convince the C.E.O. that she was worth a
try, but Tessa had vigorously opposed the appointment. Emily
interpreted this as pure jealousy of course – the wicked witch
didn’t want to see a younger, more attractive woman strutting
around the top floor. The fact that there were better qualified
applicants for the post was irrelevant in Emily’s view - a
smokescreen that Tessa threw up to hide her bitchy ulterior motive.
But Donald insisted – that ‘Old School Tie’ carrying sufficient
weight, and Emily got the job. War with Tessa had been declared
from the very first day: a private war that was professional and
backstabbing, underhand, and at times downright ruthless. But there
was an unspoken limit to the conflict – until now that was, when
the line had been crossed.
    “In your dreams!” hissed Emily, at last finding her voice.
“I’d sooner die than kiss your fat flabby ass!”
    Tessa held