Sexy Excerpt: ‘Eleven O’Clock Deadline’ by Thomas S. Roche

Published: APRIL 17, 2014 | Updated: FEBRUARY 15, 2022

This story is an excerpt from "The Big Book of Bondage: Sexy Tales of Erotic Restraint," edited by Alison Tyler. It has been reprinted with permission from Cleis Press.


Karen didn’t freak out when she heard the door to the office open and close. She often worked this late; she knew the cleaning guys were still in the building. She also knew that if Chad came by to pick her up and found parking, he might sneak in through the back entrance - which the cleaning guys always left propped open - and come up to get her in person.

So when the door went click-hiss-ker-chunk, she didn’t even look up from the copying she was doing - documents for Phoenix, almost done and still with an hour to make the 11 p.m. West Coast FedEx deadline.

Karen was starting to relax - the stress melting out of her, helped along appreciably by the half-drunk beer on the cutting table next to her. The beer, like the other 30 or 40 beers stuffed into the overflow refrigerator in the utility room, was left over from the holiday party. It was actually not the half a beer that helped Karen relax so much as the two that had gone before it; however, their bottles were now meticulously rinsed out and placed in the office recycling bin. Between the beers and the sheer exhaustion, she was feeling pretty loose and ready to be done with this terrible day. But she was eager to finish her copying before Chad buzzed her cell phone to tell her he was downstairs on the street. She was so busy, in fact, that she didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder to see who was in the office with her.


So when she felt one big, heavy hand in her hair and another grabbing her wrist, she might have freaked out a little bit. She screamed.

Then she heard Chad’s hot, familiar growl in her ear. It was his bad voice, equal parts red wine and dark chocolate … and the scream died in her throat.

He told her, "Don’t move a muscle. Don’t fight. Don’t struggle, and don’t you dare scream again, lady. Do exactly what I tell you to, or you’ll be sorry."


The scream turned into a moan, then a whine.

Karen said, "Chad, what are you doing? The cleaning guys are still here! They could come in …"

Chad growled: "I’m counting on it. Think they’d like to see me fuck you? Or do you think they’d like a piece? If you’re a good girl, I’ll think about giving them one …"


Karen’s body rippled with sensation. Her knees felt weak. She was helpless.

Chad moved like lightning. He acted like he had done this a thousand times, or planned it extensively in his head. Maybe both. His hand came out of her hair and seized her other wrist. Pinning both of her wrists together in the small of her back was easy for a man with such big hands. In fact, all of this was easy - Karen was 5'3" and Chad 6'2". He had a big, broad, bulky muscled form, and she had the lithe shape of an athlete who went for speed. He power-lifted; she ran. But she wasn’t running now - she couldn’t. Wouldn’t have wanted to if she could, except for the voice in her head that said, "No, this is wrong! Not at the office …"

And the voice in her pussy, far more seductive, that said, No, don’t, Sir, don’t hurt me, Sir, I’ll do everything you tell me to. That voice didn’t want her to run, either … it wanted her to spread.


Chad made that part easy, the way he practically picked her up by her wrist and her hair and manhandled her over to the cutting table. It hadn’t been a cutting table for as long as Karen had worked here; most documents had gone virtual, so the cutter was on its side, tucked between the copier and the wall. The table was naked except for a few reams of paper she’d set there in case the copier ran dry.

The cutting table had very sturdy legs.

Chad kicked her feet to the base of them, forcibly spreading her. She tried to squirm and struggle; he responded by slapping her ass, hard, right through her straight wool skirt. She gasped and squirmed some more. He spanked her again, pinning her to the table.


She purred out, "I’ll scream for help," and he spanked her harder, bringing a sudden flush of heat up and down her legs.

"I wouldn’t advise that," said Chad, and spanked her again, harder than ever.

She squealed. She squirmed and tried to close her legs; he kicked them apart again with his big black boots and pinned her to the table with his knee so he could control her while his big hands circled her wrists with rope.

He tied her wrists quick, and very tight. She struggled, her pussy going wet as she felt how securely she was bound. When Chad was done securing her wrists, he grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back roughly.

His other hand came around with a ball gag.

"I’ll scream," she purred.

He forced her mouth open easily and shoved the ball gag in. He buckled it tightly behind her cascade of long blond hair.

"Now you won’t," he said roughly, still holding her hair. His hand disappeared and came back with a blindfold; seeing it, Karen grunted and squealed behind the gag, but it was too late for her to put up more than a cursory struggle. How Chad learned to put a blindfold on a girl one-handed with such incredible fluency, Karen would never know - but an instant later, she was blindfolded and bent over with her ass in the air and a ball gag in her mouth.

It took slightly longer for Chad to secure Karen’s ankles to the table legs. She felt the ropes circling her bare ankles, going tight as Chad knotted them. She tried to struggle, found herself instead stuck halfway between squirming and writhing. Her hips were practically humping the table, she was so turned on. She was dripping.

As she struggled, Chad would reach up and spank her on the ass, snarling, "I told you to stop struggling!"

Karen would whimper and wiggle her butt, and he’d spank her cheeks again through the short blue skirt.

When he was done tying Karen’s ankles to the table, Chad stood and yanked up her skirt. A navy blue garment of quality wool, it was straight in contour but too short to be entirely businesslike. It wasn’t quite a mini, but it was short enough that it got lots of looks from the guys in the office, though not one of them complained to management about it.

Chad pulled the skirt to her hips and tucked its hem into the waistband. He shoved his hand between Karen’s legs and started feeling her up.

"That’s a nice short slutty skirt," he gloated. "And you’re not wearing anything underneath. I guess you’ve been expecting me. You’re good and wet, you horny little office slut."

His fingers caressed her bare, smooth slit, stroking from her wet entrance to her clit. The volume of Karen’s moans mounted as she squirmed.

Her pussy was bare - as were her legs - because she’d taken off her pantyhose after the second beer. She was shaved because she always shaved for Chad; he liked her that way, and what Chad wanted, Chad got - especially when he asked so nicely.

As for being "good and wet," she was more than that - she was dripping. Had she been when he entered, or was it the struggle that got her all wet and dripping? She often fantasized at work, but she’d been way too busy with the Phoenix account today. She’d probably been bone dry when he’d grabbed her.

She could feel Chad’s fingers gliding in and out of her pussy, stroking her channel and her entrance and her clit, wetness smeared everywhere. She could feel rivulets of it running down her naked thighs.

He shoved his fingers in - two, it felt like - with intentional roughness, enough to make her moan behind the gag. Karen could feel - as could Chad - that she was far wetter on the inside than on the outside. That was a sure sign that her arousal had been sudden and powerful.

One of Chad’s favorite things was feeling her go from dry to wet as he touched her. Karen hadn’t always liked it at first, but Chad’s eagerness converted her. Now nothing turned her on more than thinking about how Chad could start her sexual response cycle from zero to sixty in no time flat.

Like he’d done by taking her in the conference room.

Chad unzipped his pants and took his cock out. Karen moaned as she felt the head of it rubbing her slit. He alternated teasing her entrance and her clit with the head and fingering her with two or three fingers.

"You want this?" he growled as he rubbed his cock against her. "You want my cock up inside you, slut?"

Karen played the unwilling victim. She shook her head against the cold hard surface of the cutting table. She wiggled her ass. She struggled and squirmed. As she fought against her imminent ravishment, she felt her arousal mounting, making it harder and harder to keep acting like she didn’t want it. Her hips were already grinding in a shameless burlesque of getting fucked. Her nipples felt hard against the table. Her mouth was wet and drooling around the gag. She wanted his cock in her mouth.

But she kept shaking her head - and Chad got the message.

His belt buckle made a rattling sound; the belt itself a harsh, acrid hissing as he whipped it from his belt loops. Karen squealed and squirmed. She wiggled her ass so hard she shook the table. She made so much noise that when she thought of the cleaning guys, she got scared and excited at once - but she still couldn’t stop herself. She was going to be whipped.

"Let’s see if this changes your mind," said Chad, stepping back far enough to get him some swing space.

The belt hissed down with elegant violence. A hot slash of pain caressed her naked cheek. The muffled sound that erupted from Karen’s mouth with the first blow was as much moan as shriek. But as the afterburn set in, the sound escalated almost to a scream. The ball gag silenced her effectively and Karen felt the heat of catharsis as she realized she could scream as loud as she wanted - no one would save her.

The belt snapped down again and again. Karen fought against the bonds as the streaks of pain mounted across her naked ass and thighs. She was helpless. Chad gave her 10 or 12 strokes, then reached under her and grabbed her blouse. He didn’t unbutton it; he just pulled. Buttons went flying. It was an expensive blouse, but Karen was well beyond caring. He shoved his hand up under her and undid her front-clasp bra like an expert. Her tits exposed, blindfolded Karen didn’t know what was coming - until she felt the first hot hard pinch on one nipple, the pain mounting as she waited for the other to get the same treatment.

Binder clips.

With Karen’s arms tied behind her back, Chad couldn’t strip her blouse off without ripping it to shreds. Which would have been fine with Karen at that point, but Chad let prudence be his guide. He left the filmy silk garment spread open across her back, pulled down to expose her shoulders. With both of her tits clamped, Karen could feel sensation coursing from her pussy to her nipples to her clit. She bit into the gag as Chad took his position, rubbing his cock against her entrance.

He spoke slowly and distinctly.

"Do you want my cock inside you?" he asked her. "Do you want to be fucked?"

Karen did; she could barely think straight with her delirious craving for it. But she forced herself to shake her head, craving the other thing more - the hot lances of pain across her backside. With a grim snarl of fury, Chad gave that to her. He stepped back and strapped her with a vengeance, laying stripe after stripe of hot red against Karen’s bare ass.

When he swung that thing he moved like a god, she thought, the oiled leather of his belt as supple and smooth as Karen herself had made it just that Sunday evening, kneeling on a pillow before the newspaper-covered coffee table, nude and collared - and impossibly turned on. Did she imagine that he’d use it for something like this? That the big boots she’d also mink-oiled that night would, on Wednesday, kick her high-heeled red pumps wide apart, and the ropes she’d obediently washed and looped into six-foot lengths would circle her ankles and wrists? That she’d be at the office when she smelled the mink oil she’d used on the strap of the ball gag and the soft, supple leather blindfold?

She’d been counting on it.

Chad gave it to her hard, as hard as she could take it. He knew exactly when to stop, too - the moment she broke, not because the pain was too much but because her hunger for him had mounted to the point where she couldn’t say no. Not even just to pretend.

He pulled her hair and leaned down, his weight atop her, pinning her bound body more firmly to the table. He spoke into her ear.

"Do you want to be fucked?"

Karen couldn’t say no, so she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t make herself shake her head because she wanted it so bad she thought she’d fucking die if he wasn’t inside her within the minute. But not being able to ask for it felt deliciously and horribly like the state she occupied so much of the time: mute in her desire, and waiting for male lust to take over.

It did, this time. Chad took her against her will. He made a point of it, too, his lips up close at the back of her neck.

When his cock was positioned at her opening and her vaginal lips spread wide by his fingers, he leaned down and told her:

"I guess you really don’t want it. Good thing for you, I don’t care."

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