Stay Dressed

Alasdair's sly grin mounted up to a heavy boff, catching Martina off-guard. Within his mind, he commanded power over everything. This hotel room, the outside halls, even the blended cities. All were aspects of his psyche that encompassed his current plane of existence. If reality deemed it right limiting his dominance, he will take it for his own. With renewed confidence, Alasdair tossed the magazine; knocking the mobile phone from her hands. He snapped his fingers, the virtual template appearing before him.

One swipe. Two clicks. Enter.

The phone's ascent slackened pace before disintegrating into bits and bytes. The disparaging curl of his lips had no effect on Martina, who nodded, adjusting her laced stockings before rising from the bed.

"As I said before. Fuck. No."

"Well then, Mr Myers. I shall take my leave and inform Russel of your little behavioural problem," she began, strutting towards the hotel door.

She turned her head to the smug top dog.

"Your defiance against the Latitude cN. Against ARK Industries. All it shows is how far you will compensate for your inadequacies."

Enter.

When turning back, a solidness suffused her stomach. The door vanished, replaced with a mirror showing Alasdair strolling towards Martina. She gripped her flogger, stepping away from him as he approached.

"What's wrong Essex? Bereft of speech," said the top dog, his voice deep and predatory. She held her stance.

"Let me go, Mr Myers," she spoke firmly.

He towered over her as he trapped her before a wall. He continued his leer, watching the sweat drip down her neck and breast as her body heated under his scrutiny. Her heart raced, as did her panting, being in such proximity of his large, muscular frame. His musky scent made her core quiver, opposing her attempts at quelling her anticipation. Alasdair encroached her space, arching his arms over her head. He enjoyed being witness to his self-righteous superior’s emotional collapse, but now he grasped at her candour. She was horny.

"Tell me Essex? You're enjoying this?"

Martina turned away, taking time to catch her barrelling breath.

"N-N-No. I need to leave Mr Myers."

Enter.

"Don't lie to me Essex, your pussy says different."

She flinched, covering her denuded trickling mound with her flogger and sensitive breasts with her free hand. Alasdair laughed, a cruel tune of his gratification while she wriggled. He knocked at her legs with his thick, firm thighs, evoking her sharp moan. His cock lurched, pleasure rushing through him. After licking his lips, he took notice of her large, lightly coloured areolas where her nipples stood hard and erect.

"Answer me. Are you enjoying this?"

"…Yes."

"Good girl. Show me how much with that wild mouth of yours."

Martina nodded, slowly uncovering her body before encircling her arms around Alasdair's neck. She pulled herself into him, capturing his lips with a fierce passion that almost caught him unaware. He warmed from her caress, embracing her lilac aroma that momentarily quelled his desire for his paltry game. Her fingers sailed down his broad back, sending gratifying quavers throughout him. He dragged her, his erection palming at her abdomen while he nestled her aphrodisiac scent and touch. They neared the bed before they broke away, him sustaining his brawny grip over his naked boss.

"It's time for you to apologise."

"I'm sorry Mr Myers…"

He sniggered, again pressing his hard-on into her. Martina winced, placing her head against Alasdair's trunk.

"Fuck that. I took a great deal of your smart-arse talk about my cock. I need more than sorry."

The woman nodded, stroking his forearms before embracing him. She pecked at his chest, her lips tracing down his beefy pectorals and firm abs towards his soft treasure trail. Alasdair twitched as she licked his pulsing shaft in his briefs; loosening his grip as he closed his eyes to enjoy her service. The corners of his mouth curled up at his conquest of the beautiful bitch. He arched his legs before placing his palm on her head. Her pawing at his length made him groan and mutter various expletives beneath his breath. Good. Keep going. Take my cock out.

As Alasdair readied to speak, a sharp sting shot throughout his entire body. A deep, almost primal, roar pulled at his vocal cords while his legs bucked under a heavy pressure, breaking into weakness. The numbness soon seized the reins of all limbs, nerves, and muscles, disposing his substantial mass onto the mattress behind him. He bellowed out a great deafening sound, cupping his afflicted groin. The woman marched towards the head of the bed, tapping him with her flogger before gagging him with it.

"As if I would suck your tiny misogynistic cock!" she spat.

She clenched her hands, preparing her fist for another beating at his wilting hard-on. The top dog flinched before grabbing at her, but Martina knocked his strengthless arms away, pulling them upwards his head.

CLICK!

Right hand restrained! She rolled over him, her smaller breasts knocking about his face before restraining his left hand. His muffled roars did not faze her. Quite the reverse. Determination gleamed, unlike the top dog had ever seen, when she locked his feet to the bottom restraints. The adrenaline petered out when she finished, her body catching up on air. When recovered, she tightened his squirming wrists and ankles. Pleased, she climbed onto the mattress, gazing down at his five-pointed star positioning.

"No more games, Mr Myers," she said, her tone stern once more. "Give me back my clothes."

He roared his muffled aggression again, attempting entry to the virtual template once more. He needed to undo the bondage gear enslaving him. Right now! His chest pounded in his attempts to recall the various ways he could access the digital form without use of his limbs. In seconds, it came to him, the menu appearing before his face. But something was wrong. He tried shifting the selections. Clicking here. Highlighting there. But they moved about on their own accord, not giving him the freedom he sought. The menu clicked off many variables, before vanishing.

His entire body turned rigid before a newly dressed Martina Washington. The light reflected off the black, vinyl textured open-strapped bustier that tied upwards her neck to a collar closure. She now wore a matching bandage style high waist skirt linked to her crotchless, nylon thigh-high stockings by garter straps. He swallowed when she lowered herself towards him, her open thighs revealing translucent bikini panties unveiling her dripping wet pussy.

"That's better," she said, crawling towards his crotch.

Acknowledging her impish countenance, he struggled more, but the tight straps subdued his movement. She peered at him, making his muffled pleas. What could he be saying? Martina, please! This is all a misunderstanding! Please don't do this!? I beg of you! No…of course not since Alasdair Myers was the top dog. The alpha male.

"Now what am I working with?"

He took a sharp breath as she reached for the waistband of his briefs, hooking into the smooth elastic before pulling them down towards his ankles. Initially, there was silence, no words or sounds uttered for those few seconds. Then his nightmares were realised. It began as trickles and sputters. Next, titters and giggles. But after several heavy snorts, her laughter escaped, harsh, unfiltered hilarity resounding the room. The top dog wanted retreat far from this bed. Far from society. If possible, far from the world. She gestured an inch with her index finger and thumb, before flicking his foreskin covered penis glans. A turtle in hiding. Alasdair Myers' cock looked even smaller since his testicles were rather large, even for a 6-foot 5-inch man like himself. His skin flared red while shakes coursed throughout his well-developed physique. He tried covering his exposed penis with his thick thighs, shielding his shame from the ridiculing Martina.

"Your willy looks like a little boy's," she exclaimed, catching her breath. "No wonder you act like one."

She flicked his penis once more, making him moan. Alasdair turned away when she cupped his cheeks, biting his lips so hard they almost bled.

"I guess a willy’s a willy, no matter the size," she said, humour in her voice. She looked at the withdrawn beta pup, doing her best to hide her chuckle.

"Aww, are you upset little Alis?"

She kneeled on the bed, posturing upright.

"I propose an offer. Hear me out," she started playing with a lengthy, silicone crop. "I will release you from captivity, if, and only if, you accept that I am dominant over you. Both in mind and body."

She caressed his balls, making him writhe. Shit, he felt himself getting hard. From the slight smirk on Martina's lips, she noticed.

"But like how you wanted me to proclaim my submissiveness by sucking that pathetic willy of yours, I require the same treatment. Proclaim your submissiveness Alis. Eat out my pussy."

His cock jumped, the turtle head seeking escape from its shell. He locked his eyes tight, ignoring her; unwilling to showcase his budding frustration and rage that fed into her sadist wish. The simulated template stopped working, so he needed a plan. He had to remember this was a virtual reality. A game in his brain. He would not be submitting to Martina; he would be participating in his favour.

But another voice spoke to him.

Was this she-devil playing into his wants? His innate desires? Would it be safe to surrender his masculinity? He was in no true danger. The simulation would end and he would awake in his apartment. Free of all consequences. Anger fuelled him. The Martina copy mimicked the genuine one well. Too well. He will stand his ground and get himself out, even if he must resort to ****. He will spank that perky ass of hers for being the naughty bitch she is…