The Capture of Archer Cordell

Chapter One-3

Nothing could have prepared her for Archer Cordell in person. The boundless crackling energy that surrounded him didn’t get picked up by the cameras, and his focus —whenever he looked at you, it was as if his full attention washed over you like a giant wave. She could feel her body tingle all over at his appraising gaze when Daviel introduced her for the first time, “This is Alcina, your new personal assistant,” he said.

Archer smiled, took her hand. “Welcome,” he said, evaluating her looks, her dress, her style with an instant, penetrating look. He nodded. “You’re just what I need. You look the part completely. It’s a zoo here, but you’ll love it.” She felt like a team member, not just a slave, and it filled her with joy. Still, being a slave to this man, a man who could make her feel so open and vulnerable, might be more than she was ready for.

His first day back was filled with meetings. She had dressed alluringly, a business suit with short skirt, patterned hose, high heels, a lacy red camisole peeking out from under a tightly cut short blazer: professional yet provocative. She flirted with each arrival, offered coffee, bent over just right to serve it, giving a quick glimpse and a hint of braless cleavage. She was a hit, and it was arousing. Perhaps, she thought with a sudden shock, she’d have to service Cordell’s clients later. Was that her purpose? Or...would it be Cordell? Complex emotions roared within her, even without the activation of the pleasure chip she felt the stirrings of desire. She could tell by the looks she was getting that her erotic charge was communicating very well. She was afraid she was being too distracting for business, but Daviel assured her that was part of the goal. “An aroused man is often a poor negotiator,” he observed. “Depending on the tastes of the man, I’ve provided the same function.” He looked at her with mild amusement. “It’s fun. I know. Don’t let yourself get carried away; it’s them you want to distract.”

Her fantasies and fears swirling in her head, she took dictation at the next meeting, sitting in her chair, legs crossed, causing the short skirt to slip higher, almost revealing stocking tops, heel dangling flirtatiously, teasing and working at the same time. Each time she caught a man trying to peek down her blouse or look just a little farther up her skirt, she imagined having to serve him. When one man patted her fanny after she fetched him a second cup coffee, instead of reacting with offense, it simply fed her arousal.

She also found herself evaluating each of the men in the meeting. Much of the technical negotiation was outside her experience, though thanks to the briefings and training from Daviel and a natural aptitude she hadn’t known existed, she understood far more than she expected. There was something else: she could see the ebb and flow of the conversational game quite well. The power game made sense to her; it was a complicated human chess game and when she caught Archer’s eye at one point she realized they saw the same thing. Unbidden, she began to write notes on the human interplay and her own observations, and caught Archer looking over her shoulder at one point. She blushed, but he nodded gently, so she continued.

By the end of a very long day, with pages filled with notes to transcribe, she was utterly exhausted. Archer kept his composure throughout. He was a man utterly in control of himself. She was a only tool to distract others, not him, she thought with disappointment. She’d tried to flirt with him, just a little bit, but he’d ignored her utterly, his cold eyes stopping her in her tracks.

It was nearly eight o’clock when the last meeting ended. “Have the computer transcribe your notes, take twenty minutes to eat, then see me back her at nine. I want to compare what we saw today. I want is your impressions of each person. Agendas, needs, whether they were honest —just give me your intuition,” he said, looking at her for the first time in hours. He waved her out, picking up the phone as she left.

She put her notes in the auto-transcriber and went to the kitchen on the dormitory wing, grabbing a quick tray of cafeteria food. She tried to recall everything about the men in the meeting; she wanted to have useful information to share. As soon as she finished, she rushed back upstairs to her desk. She noticed that in addition to her notes, which had already been automatically routed to Archer’s computer screen, he had a complete transcript of every word spoken at the meeting. The room must have been bugged, she thought with surprise —then not so surprised.

At nine o’clock exactly, she reentered his office. The lights were dimmed; the large window let in the shimmering lights of Manhattan. She could make out the Chrysler Building; the rest she wasn’t sure of. Archer was at his desk, scanning the volume of paper the computer had produced; he was a page-at-a-glance reader. He didn’t look up. “Observations, please,” he commanded.

She began to speak, haltingly at first, but then with greater assurance as he seemed to be listening, actually caring what she had to say, even though he was looking out the window, sitting in his big leather executive chair. This one was clearly hiding a perceived weakness, this other felt he had a hidden trump, this one was focused completely on business, this one was very easily distracted. “You’re very distracting, my dear,” Archer chuckled, looking at her for the first time. She blushed —surprisingly for her, she wasn’t a blusher —at his compliment.

He took everything in, nodding from time to time. “Very good,” he said finally. “Daviel did well with you, but I also think you’ve got great instincts for this work. You’re very smart. There are just a few things you missed.”

He explained them, and then she found herself arguing for her insights and being persuasive. He was listening and she was utterly wrapped up in her work. This was a high she had never before experienced. They were relating on a very special level.

Then, with a jerk, she was pulled back to a different place. Archer Cordell had switched gears unexpectedly and completely. His voice and manner changed. The room around her seemed to darken. “Come here,” he said, in a soft voice of complete command.

Suddenly, wildly, she felt her world spinning. Her collar began to activate, filling her with sudden fear and horror as it worked its cruel technological will on her mind. She blushed furiously as the helpless and unwanted feelings of lust began to grow in her body; her n*****s crinkling, her legs becoming weak, her mind suddenly awash with submission, afraid of what to expect, hoping she was wrong, hoping she was right. She walked toward his large desk as in a dream. “Around the side,” he said. She did as he ordered.

In the dim light of the city through the window, it took her a moment to notice that Archer had unzipped his pants, had pulled out his c**k, large and erect. He was massaging it with his hand. Her eyes were pulled to his c**k, jutting obscenely out of his exquisitely tailored suit. “You’re very smart and very capable,” he said. “I admire you. You do this part of your job exceptionally well. Now it’s time to see how well you do the rest of your job. It’s been a...hard day,” he said, stroking himself and looking at her with his cool, stoic eyes. Only the bead of viscous liquid at the head of his c**k betrayed his passion, “and you’ve been very distracting all day long. You were supposed to distract my clients, not me. So I think I’ll spank you. Now face my desk, yes, like that. Bend over, hands on the desk. Yes. Spread your legs, just a little bit. Mmm.” He stood up, c**k bobbing. She could see it almost upside down.

Her trembling body obeyed his orders as her mind tried to rebel, to fight the waves of induced lust that threatened to turn her into an utter puppet. How dare he! she thought with an anger she couldn’t quite bring to focus. Then she remembered: she was a pleasure slave, she had signed up for this. She wanted to run, to leave the room, or at least to have him seduce her in an ordinary way, not use her as an object.

He pulled up her skirt, revealing black panties and garter belt holding up her patterned stockings. He slid open his desk drawer. She couldn’t help peeking. He took out a paddle, an old wooden paddle like fraternities and sororities used. He’s going to spank me with that thing, she thought with a swirling mixture of humiliation, desire, fear, and outrage that threatened to overwhelm her.

The first spank of the paddle stung, but the stinging melted into the growing rush of her pleasure; she moaned and blushed and her head went down on the desk, then came another spank and another and another and she bit her teeth to keep from screaming, for what reason she didn’t know. Her cunt was on fire, she felt the warm wetness growing between her legs. After ten spanks, he stopped. Her eyes were wet, her nose stopped up. He pointed to a tissue box; she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then he sat down, smiling, smug, aroused. She noticed his c**k was even harder; he enjoyed spanking her.

“You’re very talented at one part of your job, Alcina,” Archer Cordell said. “Now let’s see how talented you are at the rest of it. It’s been a hard day, and I need some soothing.”

She knelt before his chair, which in her fevered imagination had become a throne and Archer Cordell her king. She was just a cocksucker, a pleasure w***e to be used and discarded just like that tissue. The pleasure roared in her ears and she bent to her work.

She was a good cocksucker, her boyfriend had told her so after she’d left him quivering with passion, the sticky evidence of his need in her throat and on her lips and sometimes on her face and her breasts. The obscenity embarrassed her and on one level excited her. She took his erect c**k in one hand and cupped his balls in her other and with a series of slow, long licks, began to moisten the shafts. Archer sighed. “Mmm. Yes. I want you to play with yourself while you do me. Finger-f**k your cunt for me.”

The dirty words humiliated her once again, but she was so wet, so burning that she couldn’t resist. Her need kept growing, threatening to overwhelm her while her mind cried out for her to escape this degradation. Her hand slipped inside her dripping wet panties to find her c**t and then slipped inside her wet p***y, f*****g herself with one hand while using her other hand and her mouth to pleasure her master. She got into her assignment and her assignment slipped into her mouth, f*****g her mouth as she gave it pleasure, suddenly determined to be the best cocksucking tramp f**k-toy he’d ever know, the dirty words ringing in her head and exploding when he began to mutter, “Suck my c**k for me, lick it, f**k my c**k with your mouth while you finger-f**k your cunt,” and the dirtier he talked and the more degrading the language the hotter she got until the feeling of c**k in her mouth was almost enough to make her explode, especially when she could feel him pulsing, getting near.

She slowed her pace, determined to make it last for his pleasure and for hers, slowly nibbling and sucking and saying in submissive tones, “I’m sucking your c**k for you just like you ordered, I’m your cocksucking slavegirl.” It was as if the words were coming from another woman while she watched, a pornographic movie scene. She couldn’t believe her own behavior; she knew it was the buzzing of the insidious collar, but the pleasure was so heavenly, so wonderful... The words turned him on as much as they turned her on; she could tell by the extra twitching and pulsing as she talked dirty to his c**k. “I love your c**k, it’s so big and hard and swollen. I want to feel it spurt in my mouth, I want to swallow all your come.”