Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I pressed “Book Cubicle 01” at 2:51 am.

The system responded in less than two seconds:

Reservation confirmed. Tomorrow 8.45pm. Reserved access. No human contact.

The next day I worked as always: meetings, numbers, decisions worth millions. But inside me there was only ECHO.

At exactly 8.30pm the email arrived on my private phone, the one that no one knows.

Subject: Welcome to the Arena, Alessandra

Route:

Go down with the private elevator to floor -4 (black magnetic key that you will find in your desk, left drawer).

Go down the service corridor behind the electrical panel.

Gray armored door, code Echo-Alpha-01.

Enter. Nobody will see you. No one will ever see you.

I did exactly that.

The passage was lit only by soft red lights. Absolute silence. No click of heels, no voices, no breathing except mine. I arrived in front of Cubicle 01. The door opened with a hydraulic blow.

Inside: absolute luxury and complicit darkness.

Black velvet armchair, as big as a throne.

85 inch curved monitor already lit on the empty arena.

Warm ambient light, adjustable.

And on the black crystal table: a handwritten note, black ink on parchment paper.

«Welcome, CEO.

This evening you are only eyes and desire.

No one will ever know you are here.

Enjoy the show.

The 4"

The minibar was stocked as if they knew my tastes inside out:

Champagne Krug Clos d'Ambonnay 2002, two glasses (even though I was alone), strawberries, 92% dark chocolate, and a small bottle of black musk perfumed oil... as if they had foreseen everything.

I took off my Louboutins, poured myself the first glass and let myself sink into the armchair. The one-way glass was perfect: the arena was less than four meters from me, lit by warm spotlights. The shiny black carpet was already glistening with oil.

8.59pm.

The two entered.

Elena Ferrari, 34 years old, Marketing Director, body sculpted by years of pilates and an iron will. Hair tied back, predatory look.

Chiara Morelli, 26 years old, junior account, short black hair, piercing in her left nipple, tattoos running down her back. Small, but with defined muscles and a devil's smile.

They undressed slowly, looking into each other's eyes.

Oil poured on the bodies.

The fight began.

The first minutes were pure power: grips, pushes, bodies sliding over each other, grunts, hair pulling. Elena was stronger, but Chiara was faster, meaner.

At minute 18 Elena ended up on all fours, panting.

Chiara climbed onto her back, blocked her wrists behind her with one hand and with the other... began to touch her.

Not to win.

To humiliate her.

Two fingers inside her, slow, deep, while he whispered in her ear:

«Tell the whole company that the great Elena Ferrari comes like a slut for a junior.»

Elena moaned, loudly, with no more pride.

Her body trembled.

Chiara increased the pace, slapped her ass shiny with oil, pulled her hair forcing her to look towards my glass (even though she couldn't see me).

"You come. Now. For me."

Elena exploded. A violent, long, wet orgasm. He shouted Chiara's name like a prayer.

But it didn't end there.

Chiara didn't leave her. He turned her onto her back, opened her legs and lowered himself onto her, rubbing his sex against Elena's in a slow, cruel, triumphant tribbing.

He licked the sweat from her neck.

He bit her nipples.

He inserted two fingers again, then three, while his thumb massaged her clit mercilessly.

Elena came twice more.

Stronger every time.

Every time begging "stop... please... I'm yours..."

When the timer reached 30 minutes, Chiara stood up, put one foot on Elena's chest and raised her arms towards the cameras.

Overall winner.

45 days of total ownership.

I... I couldn't take it anymore.

The glass trembled in my hand.

My thighs were tight, my dress was pulled up to my waist, my panties had been pushed to the side for a while now.

I watched that scene of pure fetish domination – the powerful woman reduced to a trembling, shiny, surrendered body – and I touched myself.

First floor.

Then stronger.

Two fingers inside me, the thumb on the clitoris, the eyes fixed on the glass while Chiara **** Elena to lick her feet still greasy with oil.

I came in silence, biting my lip until I tasted blood, my body arched into the velvet chair, my eyes rolled back.

A long, deep, almost painful orgasm.

When I reopened my eyes, Chiara was making Elena sign the submission contract, still on her knees.

A message appeared on my private screen.

The 4:

Did you enjoy it, Alessandra?

We know it.

The cubicle camera is off… but your moans were recorded for us.

Next meeting in three days.

Do you want the Cubicle 01 again?

Or do you want to… go down to the arena?

(End Chapter 4)