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Comedown for Elisabeth

fantasy fiction by david stevenson.

The last time I had visited the Marquis Hotel was under much more auspicious circumstances. My international cosmetics business was in the black, the depression hadn't hit, and I was in possession of a majority of the publicly quoted shares.

My visit on that occasion was with my personal assistant and secretary, Nigel. (Well I was an equal opportunity employer!) Nigel had always been sexually attracted to me, and that made it a lot easier for me to sexually harass my male secretary than it is for many bosses.

The Marquis Hotel is a private and exclusive hotel, bar and restaurant which is frequented by the rich and powerful with rather unusual or esoteric tastes. In those heady days I had obliged Nigel to provide me with various 'oral services' usually after I had spanked him for shortcomings in the office.

Then in the restaurant I had humiliated him by making him crawl beneath my table while I enjoyed the full silver service and the companionship of guests similar to myself.

Now however I was returning in a new and rather uncomfortable situation. My shares, which were held by the bank as security, had been sold to the highest bidder. A new board had been appointed, I was offered the position as P.A. and secretary to the new Chairman and Managing Director.

Bearing in mind my high personal liabilities, and the enormous mortgage on my home, which in the depression I could not sell for enough to cover the debt, I had little choice but to take whatever was on offer and hope to ride out the worst of the recession. I was hardly likely to get a better employment deal until the economy lifted again. My knowledge was useful, which justified the high salary I was being paid, and at least I had a typist to do the menial chores.

Nigel, who had been transferred to marketing and sales, where his knowledge could be put to profitable use, was no longer junior to me. In fact he was now 'one of the boys' and had been less than discreet in his tales of the activities of his former boss. Rumours were rife, but even Nigel couldn't tell all, as his own position in those activities had been less than admirable.

I suppose the men's locker room stories had reached the ears of Pierre Guerini, my new boss. Because I had been summoned into his (my former) office at 5.30pm. He didn't invite me to sit in the chair in front of his desk, so I stood and waited while he finished a telephone call as his eyes roamed over my body.

"Elisabeth," he had started calling me by my first name as soon as I had agreed to stay on as his P.A, "you have heard of the Marquis Hotel."

It was a statement which called for little response, and I nodded.

"I have reserved a room for you there tonight, I will be along later, I trust that is in order.

"Sir?" My tone was questioning, and he had insisted from the first day that I call him 'Sir'. He left me standing there in silence for some time, smiling to himself, and making it plain to me that his intentions were less than honourable. Eventually, as I shifted from foot to foot not knowing how to respond further, he clarified the situation.

"You are not stupid Elisabeth, you know precisely what is expected of you at the 'Marquis'. I presume you wish to keep your position here?"

I swallowed uncomfortably, for Pierre was the archetypal 'fat successful businessman' and I didn't relish the prospect. I lowered my eyes demurely and mumbled, "Yes Sir." At least, I thought to myself, when I had put Nigel in a similar position I knew he found me desirable, even if he didn't exactly enjoy everything I had subjected him to.

"Good," he said with an air of smug satisfaction. "I'm glad that is settled, now take off your blouse."

He returned to studying some papers, signing letters that I had submitted for his approval. I stood there for some time, musing on what I could do to avoid this. But his attitude made it plain that he had me where he wanted me and there was not much I could do about it. I unbuttoned my blouse and dropped it on the chair that I was standing beside.

He looked at my breasts, restrained by the black lacy bra, and I could see lust in his eyes. He reached into a desk drawer and put something on the desk beside him. "Put that on," he instructed.

The enormous desk left me with the choice of leaning across it and giving him an exciting view of my cleavage or walking round the desk to retrieve the item which was, as I suspected, a black leather collar. I chose the latter. While I was strapping the collar around my neck, his hand reached down beneath my skirt and pawed it's way up my thighs. As his hand climbed towards my panties, his wrist lifted my skirt, exposing my stocking tops. He looked meaningfully at my attire and said, "So, it seems that at least some of what I've heard is true."

I was just considering chucking it all in and telling the pig where to get off when he stood and left the room. He returned with my coat, and I felt a sense of relief as I realised I might imminently get out of there. "I have a lot of calls to make," he announced as he handed me the coat.

I decided to play it by ear, I didn't want to burn my boats just yet. I slipped gratefully into my coat and he issued the final instructions. " Leave your bra, skirt and panties on the chair and go and check in at the Marquis. "

He picked up the phone and returned to his gruff manner with the switchboard as he watched me remove my things discreetly beneath the covering of the silver fox fur coat. On the way to the hotel in the taxi I reviewed my options as calmly as I could. I didn't have many if I wanted to come out of this situation with at least some of my wealth intact, the house would be worth a staggering sum when the recession was over.

I decided that I could tolerate his attentions to some degree, maybe he would be satisfied if I let him grope me and if I used my hands skilfully and brought him off quickly, it wouldn't be too unbearable.

The manager was at the desk. "Ah, Madame, welcome back. We have the instructions, I was surprised when I heard your name in connection with such an arrangement Madame." He smiled as he handed me the key. I made no comment as I assumed he was referring to the fact that I didn't have Nigel in tow on this occasion.

"You have no bags Madame." It was more a statement than a question. "I will have someone show you to your room." "Paula, show Madame to her room."

Paula was already coming down the few steps and as she approached me she said simply. "Come!" She turned and walked towards the lift.

I followed her, thinking that things could after all be much worse. Paula had been my lesbian lover on more than one occasion while I had put Nigel into the wardrobe bound and gagged. We had developed a rapport and maybe this would not be such an unbearable experience after all.

She waited for me to enter the lift and with her finger on the button she asked over her shoulder. "I trust you are wearing your collar?"

I answered, "Yes Paula. I am glad it is you. What is going on?"

The lift began to move and she turned towards me. "You will call me Maitresse. I have my instructions and from now on you are in my charge. Is that understood?"

"Yes Maitresse," I answered. So this was the game was it, I thought, Pierre was kinky and into watching lesbian sex. Well it could be a lot worse, Paula was not unattractive.

When the lift reached our floor Paula unhooked a length of chain from her skirt and attached it to the ring at the front of my collar. "I am told," she said looking me straight in the eyes, "that you need a lesson in the proper respect a secretary should have for her boss. And that you need bringing down a peg or two."

"Yes, well things have changed for me," I confirmed. "But I'll get back on top of things in the end," I started to assure her, but she turned, ignoring me and started out of the lift. I was obliged to follow on the end of the chain.

As soon as we were in the room she ordered me to remove my coat. As I obeyed her, she stood with her hands on hips looking a spectacularly powerful sight, with her legs astride in her tight black leather mini skirt. I let the coat drop to the floor feeling very submissive now, and to some degree aroused by the situation. Although I would have preferred the terms of our relationship in past meetings.

If either of us could have been said to be in charge in those days, it would have been me. I stood there trying not to make it obvious that I was looking her over out of the corner of my eye, and wondering if she would be inviting me to join her in the four poster bed beside us. She stood in front of me and while holding my chain with her left hand, the finger of her right hand ran over my obviously dampening pussy lips.

"Slut!" she said simply. "Would you like to please me slut," she demanded. I nodded, and she pulled on my chain forcing me to my knees. "Lay on your back," she ordered. "It's time I put that tongue to good use." She came astride my face and instructed, "Get your tongue in there slut."

I alternated between thrusting deep within and nibbling her clitoris between my lips as I remembered she liked. Her first few orgasms came quickly. Then I felt her wet slit open over my features as she literally squashed me into her sex. Her body moved backwards and forwards on my face as she gradually exhausted herself in several more climaxes. I gave up any active participation. My face was simply hers to use. I managed to gasp an occasional breath through my nose when it appeared from beneath her. Then she collapsed forward onto the deep pile carpet above my head.

I was aroused now, I lay there frustrated and unable to even satisfy myself as her knees pinned my upper arms to the floor, and her sex was still suffocating me. It was some considerable time before I felt her shift position indicating her recovery. Then she shifted back and raised herself slightly, with her right stiletto heel pinning my arm to the floor. She grabbed my hair and ordered me to open my mouth, as she pulled my hair to indicate that I would suffer if I didn't.

"Now for something I have been wanting to do to you for a long time," she declared with relish. "Keep your mouth open if you don't want it in your eyes and up your nose," she threatened. "This is to show you your place, drink it all down slut!"

I realised what she was going to do, I had once allowed her to do it to Nigel, after I had finished with him. I begged her not do it, but as I opened my mouth to speak she started urinating into my mouth. I shut my mouth, but as I did so I realised her threat was coming true, so I had little choice but to drink her golden wine. She pulled my hair again as a warning, "Drink it whore."

The stream seemed never ending. All the time she berated me. "I am going to teach your mouth to be respectful. Your tongue is not for making smart remarks, your mouth is here to serve. Now do you see slut, you are a worthless toilet. Drink it all down and learn to serve."

If anything could prepare me to serve, make me more humble, make me realise the full extent to which my position had changed, this was it. When she was finished she rose and sat in a nearby chair, she lit a cigarette and watched me. I could read the satisfaction in her expression. She had shown me my place, and she loved doing it. This was a side of Paula I hadn't fully seen before.

She smiled, "I think perhaps you will be more respectful to me, and to your employer, in future." Then she did something which surprised me, she picked up the nearby phone and asked to be connected to room 501. "Ah Monsieur, you required a call girl? Yes. We have here a young and voluptuous slut. She is totally available to your requirements. Good. I will send her along shortly."

Paula ordered me to go and clean myself up. "Make yourself up to look like the whore you are. You have a client to serve, and woe betide you if you fail to please him completely."

Despite her ill treatment of me, I was still sexually aroused by her. I just wanted someone to give me some pleasure now. I just hoped that the 'client' was not, as I suspected, Monsieur Pierre Guerini. When I had done as she wished and changed the style of my hair and applied heavy make up and rouge she tossed me a mini dress that was, to say the least, translucent.

"Put that on and report to room 501, obey all of the client's orders."

Room 501 was just a few doors down the corridor. Monsieur Guerini's bulk was filling an armchair when I was summoned into his room. He was smoking a fat cigar. "There you are at last slut. Come over here quickly and raise your skirt. Show me your whore's pussy. Let's see if you have what it takes to get me going."

Wearing heavy make up, a skimpy dress, and with virtually nothing on underneath, I realised I must indeed look very much like a tart. The circumstances made me feel even more like a whore, knocking on a hotel room door, entering and immediately being treated as a sex object. I stood before him and raised my skirt to expose my most secret parts to my employer. It was embarrassing and humiliating to stand before him like that. Especially as he had me stand there for five minutes or more while he contemplated me.

Eventually he had seen enough and told me to lower my skirts. "No, your pussy doesn't excite me at all whore. I like pussies to be clean shaven! I will fuck your arse instead," he decided.

That was the only thing I could think of that was worse than having to tolerate the attentions of that fat pig, so I begged and pleaded with him. "Please Sir, have pity, I am totally at your service Sir, anything but that, Please."

He commented with relish, "Yes Paula seems to have made you a much more respectful girl. I like a woman who knows her place." He considered the subject while I begged and pleaded with him. Then he decided, "I am told you are quite a tolerable performer with your mouth, I will give you the chance to prove yourself. Report back to Maitresse Paula, she will have instructions for you."

I had, it seemed escaped for a while. I returned to Paula's room where she awaited me.

"I am most displeased with you girl. I am told you failed to arouse the client. I will have to punish you if you do not improve shortly."

She had me remove the dress and once again attached the lead. "Now, girl, you will follow me on your hands and knees. When you next encounter your Master, you will remove his penis from his trousers, you will kiss it, you will revere it, you will worship it. You will be grateful to take all it offers you, and you will swallow it completely. Or you will suffer! Is that understood."

"Yes Maitresse," I answered dutifully. Thinking to myself that after all I had been through it could be worse than just sucking his cock.

"Kneel down then girl," she ordered. As I did so she turned and marched out of the room. I scuttled behind her. It was a most uncomfortable way of moving. We travelled down the corridor to the lift which surprised me as I expected to return to room 501. She ignored me completely in the lift, and with a heavy heart I realised we were going all the way down. True, I had subjected Nigel to public exposure in the bar and restaurant. But I did not relish appearing there myself in this manner.

I trotted behind her on all fours as she marched to a table in the dining room, I was embarrassed as I became aware of the eyes of the other diners, some of whom appeared amused at my appearance. As I was behind her until we reached the table I could not see who was at the table we were approaching but I heard the waiter's voice recommending a wine. Then she lifted the tablecloth, she simply prodded me with her heels, making it plain I was to go under the table.

No-one appeared to be taking any notice of me at the table above. As I crawled forward I was initially immersed in total darkness. Then what little light there was, coming from beneath his chair, enabled me to see. I realised there was only one pair of legs at this table, it must be him. Paula's legs appeared at the opposite side of the table and I heard them laughing and chatting above me. Much as I was loathe to do it, I realised that there was realistically only one way forward now. I crawled between his legs and unzipped him.

What I found there surprised me, I thought the fat pig would have a little worm hidden in there, but what I found was an enormous and virile tool. Remembering my instructions I proceeded to kiss and lick with reverence, suppressing my own thoughts to some degree. Although I admit to speculating that the owner of this magnificent penis might be some handsome and attractive man. I was still wet with arousal myself, and these thoughts further aroused me.

Being hidden in the darkness was to some degree humiliating, but it also had the advantage of hiding me from sight and allowed me to give myself up totally to the service of this penis. It was now rock hard and I took it in my mouth. I was aware of continuing, if subdued, conversation above me. I sucked on it avidly, losing myself in the experience. When it came it was not accompanied by moans and jerks, but it erupted powerfully and ferociously without warning.

I was taken by surprise as the first spurt burst into my throat, the second escaped onto my cheeks. Then remembering my instructions I took him deep within me and sucked him dry. Then it was over. I rested there with my head on his left leg, awaiting further instructions, or my removal.

Dinner appeared to be continuing above me. More laughter. Then his hand appeared beneath the table. It searched my face, he gripped my nose and pulled me back towards his penis which was still in a half erect state. My mouth opened as I gasped for breath. The he started to urinate. I swallowed it, remembering my instructions. His hand released me but the flow continued and I did my best to swallow it all. Then thankfully it was over. The penis, which had for so long been the centre of my universe below the table, was now flaccid. I tucked it gently back into the underpants and zipped up his trousers.

I heard more conversation, and Paula giggling. I was aware of Paula getting up from the table behind me. Then I felt the chain being tugged, and her voice, "Out you come whore."

I crawled out into the dazzling brightness of the restaurant. She was standing there commandingly with her legs astride. Now I truly felt reduced in status. A sex object perhaps, or worse. I knelt at her feet. I heard her talking and realised it was not to me. "Have you finished with this?"

I heard him answer. "Take her away and find something useful for her to do." Then. "Waiter. Bring me a cognac."

She pulled me close to her and looked down upon me. "Yes, you truly are a toilet."

I was aware of the eyes of the diners upon me, and lowered my eyes as I admitted, "Yes Maitresse."

She pulled my head into her skirt and patted me like a pet. "Good girl, I think you are learning! Are you?"

Submissively now, perhaps because of the way I was being treated I answered. "Yes, Maitresse, thank you Maitresse."

Then she turned and was moving once again, and I still had not had a chance to glimpse who my "Master" had been. I scrambled after her in front of the diners and the barman. She ordered, "This way, you have work in the kitchen."

I heard several couples discussing the way I had been treated. I realised that all those people who I had once treated as my equals would never see me in quite the same light again. Now I realised how Nigel must have felt. In one way humiliated, in another, strangely liberated. No responsibilities.

The kitchen was full of men, the chef Peter, waiters and kitchen hands. She made me stand by a preparation table while she chatted about various details concerning the many guests requirements that evening. I looked down at my feet, not knowing what to do with myself. Paula just left me there and disappeared for five or ten minutes. Occasionally a waiter would have a few minutes to spare and would come and stand near me, touching me as they felt fit.

One of the kitchen hands was quite forward, his hands felt between my thighs, tweaked my nipples, then thankfully his chores summoned him. Paula eventually returned and stood by the table where she was amused to discover a carrot.

"Peter," she asked dryly, "where do you put the carrots?"

I heard him answer with a chuckle, "Why in the casserole, of course."

Paula answered him, "Peter, that isn't very imaginative. I think perhaps you mean 'in the asshole'." She giggled at her joke and I heard the men chuckle with her. Her hand pushed me down on the table and she ordered the men to hold me as she said to Peter, "A little oil dressing on the carrot Peter, I think." Then as she inserted it within me I cried out at the assault. "This bottom is to be trained," she insisted as she subjected me to this virtual rape. "Your Master reported a reluctance to present this for his service."

When the carrot was deeply embedded within me she proceeded to stimulate me with her fingers. I was still frustrated, and within a short period of time I responded to her ministrations. Her fingers were moving in and out of my pussy and rubbing my clitoris. It wasn't long before I was panting and begging for her to bring me off. Then she began to pump the carrot in and out of me simultaneously with her fingers in my pussy.

She asked me, "Like that do you slut?"

To my shame I agreed, and begged for more. Then when I was on the verge of a climax she stopped, "You see slut, you should think yourself lucky when your Master wants to use your bottom. Now you are going to have to wait for your pleasure."

She told the men to release my hands and bade me stand up straight. I was frustrated and desperately wanted to climax. She noticed my sulky expression and turning to leave she ordered "Peter, put this slut to work we have a large party arriving shortly. Keep her busy and make sure she doesn't come."

The kitchen staff thought it was hilarious and Paula left me in their charge with the feathery fronds of the carrot protruding behind me. Thankfully we were all kept busy during dinner, and they had few opportunities to molest me further. Although in the state I was now in, I would perhaps have been better off if one of the kitchen hands had taken me aside and given me what I needed.

Strangely though, it was now Paula I wanted; Desperately. Something was happening to me. Gone was the successful demanding businesswoman. Now my psychology was altering to fit the new circumstances. When Paula eventually returned to take me to her room I was relieved to be out of their presence, as their assaults were becoming more adventurous and more daring.

She took me back to her room and lay me on the bed. She stroked my head, "Do you want me now slut?"

I nodded. Her hands wandered over my breasts, gently stimulating me. I sighed with relief, and with pleasure, finally I was to be given what I needed most. Her hands strayed across my belly and over my mound, again she found it wet with desire. "Will you do anything for me now, whore?"

"Oh, Yes Maitresse. Take me now, please, I'm yours Maitresse," I moaned under her gentle stimulation. All I had been through would be worth it, I remember thinking, if she would just join me in bed now and make glorious love.

She moved down to the end of the bed. "First my love," she whispered, "there is something I must do." Then she lifted first one leg, then the other to straps attached to the posts. "You see my love, you need this now. This will bring you to realise your true status. And it is something that would please me, you do want to please me don't you my love?"

I had been lulled into a false sense of security by her gentleness. Now I suspected her purpose in strapping me up in this position. "Please," I begged, "just make love to me now."

Her tone became cool, "Do you want to please me slut?"

I answered, "Yes Maitresse, Oh yes!"

"Good," she declared. "Because, now I'm going to give your backside the training it needs. And that will please me greatly." She pulled me forward until my bottom was dangling above the end of the bed. "Now that is well presented," she declared herself satisfied. She took up a strategic position to the right of me and passed her hand over the target area.

Then it began. The constant relentless whipping as she danced around me. Remonstrating me for my failures, for my lack of respect, and insisting that I learn my lessons and give better service in the future.

Sure, I had given Nigel a spanking when he failed to please me. I had spanked him for failures in the office. But never anything like this. This was an elaborate ritual which seemed to take her to a higher plane. And which gave me nothing but stinging searing pain.

When she released my legs I collapsed sobbing into bed and she covered me. Later when I had calmed down she returned and slipped under the covers with me. Then at last we made love in the way I had remembered our previous experiences had been. Nothing more was said of her cruel treatment. But I admit to basking in the kindness of her caresses after her earlier cruelty, and I admit that I was a less demanding, more submissive, lover.

There was something more deeply satisfying about my climaxes. Perhaps as a direct result of passing control to another, and giving myself up to sensation.

In the morning she was back in her old persona as chambermaid, bringing me morning tea. The tea tasted somewhat strange and I leant forward to ask her what it was. "Why Madame," she giggled, "the tea is from my pussy, and the kitchen staff prepared the cream for you." When she left me, she was still giggling.

I just wondered what Monday morning back at the office held in store for me.

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