Her Nemesis Master (Dark BDSM Erotica) (4 page)

Ten minutes it lasted. Twice as long as normal, so Les did
well. He felt really pleased with himself at the end. But Emily was
left far from satisfied and needed a shower to finish the job in
her newly adopted way: bringing herself off with a finger up her
ass and others frigging her pussy, recalling that dream that seemed
so real when she wet the bed with her juices.

Then later that night when the lights were off Emily wet the
bed again. She wet it with her tears as she fell asleep, disgusted
with herself, and the crumbling of what she saw as the fabric of
her life.

Chapter 4

The next elevator incident happened three days later, on a
Friday – the end of the working week. It was much of the same – the
man was there alone waiting for her, confidently grinning, oozing
his musk like an antler bearing stag.

Now that went way beyond freakish co-incidence as far as Emily
was concerned! She was mightily disturbed, wondering how he knew
when she worked late, as it was hardly something publically
announced with an e-mail going round to all and sundry. But he
clearly knew - the man was never there on other days when Emily
used the elevator with her co-workers. She wondered if there was a
hidden camera monitoring the floor or some bugging device that the
man used.

The man!

Strangely enough, that’s all Emily had to term him – ‘the
man’. There was no official name she had to give him. A few subtle
enquiries had been made as to his identity, but nothing was turned
up; and Emily didn’t dare dig any deeper, for that would draw the
attention of Human Resources, and the last thing she wanted was
Tessa Clifford to get wind of Emily taking an interest in a male
member of staff. Especially this one – the man in the
elevator!

But Emily preferred to give labels to the significant others
in her life – Ancient Greek deities being her theme, which she
thought rather clever...

Her father was ‘Uranus’ which might not sound too cerebral – a
bit crude in fact, and not something expected from a woman as
refined as Emily Johnson. She had her reasons though - the old
bugger was certainly an asshole in Emily’s opinion, so the title
fitted well in a vulgar way. But Uranus was also a god who banished
the children that did not please him; and emotional banishment was
the curse that Emily’s cold and aloof father bestowed on his
younger daughter. Emily liked to joke with her smarter set that
this was ‘your anus’ who didn’t give a shit!

Her mother was ‘Chaos’ which was rather unkind. She was
actually quite organised, not chaotic in the slightest. But she was
dominated by her husband and never protected her needy daughter, so
Emily bore a grudge there as well, and had no bones about the
slight which was still pretty apt. In classical terms, Chaos was
the nothingness from which all else sprang – nothingness was the
mother in the marital sense, who did the world a favour by bearing
Emily, who naturally was everything in her self-centred
world.

Her elder sister received many titles, ‘nasty bitch’ and ‘evil
witch’ being the main ones Emily bestowed on big sister Nicola, so
‘Hecate’ the patron of witches might have been a good choice. But
Emily settled on ‘Momus’ the little known god of satire, mockery
and unfair criticism. As you can probably guess – Emily and her
older sister never got on very well - in fact they hated each
other’s guts!

Les she referred to as ‘Hermes’ the god of travel, thievery
and cunning – the god of writing as well which was nearer to the
mark, but that was not the reason Emily bestowed upon Les this
title. As it happens, Hermes was also the god of herds and flocks –
and it was a standing joke amongst the English elite that Welshmen
from the Valleys were forever shagging sheep – another joke she
like to share with her bitchy smarter set.

But what of ‘the man’ who had no other name? In moments of
reflection when she considered this person, and increasingly there
were many, Emily found the term ‘Dark Tormentor’ cropping up, for
that certainly was what he was. So ‘Eris’ might fit well – the
goddess of strife and discord. Yet to the classically educated
Emily Johnson, such a description was too simple. Had she not
learned in Greek mythology that the world must sit in balance and
all arrogance would be punished by vengeful Fate? That was the job
of a particular bitch goddess, and ‘Nemesis’ was her
name.

It took her a while, but Emily eventually got there - seeing
this man as a living embodiment of divine retribution that was
making her pay for her unquestionable arrogant sins. And that was
the name that buzzed through Emily’s brain when she had stood at
the elevator contemplating whether to call for it or not. But as
Fate cannot be avoided, the elevator had to be summoned, and
naturally the man was there.

Her Nemesis!

Despite it being spooky, it had come as no surprise to see him
when the elevator door opened - Her Nemesis incarnate. Emily
quickly noted his presence then got in. It had never occurred to
her that perhaps she could have left the office by another means -
taken the stairs, or left by the service elevator. Why should she?
That would be cowardly. And perhaps this was her fate!

Whatever! Emily would not be intimidated. She was determined
that she was going to show this man that he didn’t affect her –
that she could rise above his confident taunts; that she was immune
to his musk and alpha-male aura, and was unmoved by his hunky
rugged good looks, which Emily refused to acknowledge were becoming
more and more appealing. The man was an uncouth lout; how could
Emily possibly be attracted to him? She would prove that the man
meant nothing to her if it was the last thing she did. So she got
into the elevator and pressed the ‘LOBBY’ button then stood with
her back to him, her head held high.

Emily waited. She was sure of her poise. She had heard all the
man’s filth, and had not reacted the previous time – what could he
possibly say that would affect her today. Nothing! Of that Mrs.
Johnson was certain. ‘Nemesis be damned!’ she thought. It was only
a fabrication that everyone got their just deserts – a story used
by teachers to frighten little schoolgirls.

Perhaps!

But again, then perhaps not, as retribution has a knack of
taking you by surprise...

“So tell me, Blondie - did he make you come on Tuesday
evening?” the man casually asked. “You know the time I mean – after
we last met, when you rushed home and got him to fuck you on the
floor like a dog!”

Emily froze, shocked at the insight. She tried to disguise her
fright and bizarre arousal, but the sharp intake of breath betrayed
her.

There was a derisory sneer. “I thought as much. And he
didn’t... Did he? You were kneeling on the floor thinking of me,
but still you didn’t come. He must be a really lousy fuck, that
husband of yours. What is it? Is his cock too small? Does he treat
you like a princess when deep down you’re a dirty whore? Does he
always shoot inside you instead of coming over your face? Or do you
make him wear a condom just to be safe... safe.......
safe...........”

Emily spun around. Her nostrils were flaring. She raised her
right hand as if to strike him but instead she placed it over her
ear, her left hand flying up to cover the other.

“Shut up! Shut up!!! I’ve had enough of this.
I’ll...”

The man interrupted Emily with a laugh.

“I’ll...” Emily croaked.

“You’ll what?” the man mocked. “Tell on me? Go running to your
boss and have me sacked? I don’t think so, Blondie. All I did was
make a pass at you, and I’m sure I’m not the first bloke to have
admired that lovely ass of yours – you certainly make a point of
flaunting it around the office with the tight skirts you always
wear... A pass, that’s all. Anything else would be my word against
yours. And you still get in the elevator when you see that I’m
here. I’d say that was encouragement. Wouldn’t you? So don’t you go
telling tales, Blondie! Save your pretty mouth for sucking my
dick.”

He smirked at Emily and stuck a finger in his mouth, pushing
out his cheek in a crude simulation of fellatio. Emily blushed at
the display then she looked away, infuriated that the man was right
about one thing at least. There was no way she could now report
this without incriminating herself.

Fuming with rage, Emily tried to pull herself together. She
could hear slurping noises behind her, as the man continued to
gobble on his finger. Emily refused to look round, again determined
to ignore the despicable ill-mannered lout. Thankfully for Emily,
the rest of the ride was otherwise uneventful, and again they
parted ways in the lobby - the man laughing softly, Emily shaking
violently – infuriated, yet oddly excited.

At home that night Emily sucked her husband off. This was a
singular event indeed! Emily rarely gave head – even in their
heyday, during the honeymoon and the few months after, Les’s cock
was seldom in Emily’s mouth. Blowjobs were a treat and were always
kept brief – a quick suck as some foreplay then she prised him
away. Les would have liked her to do a lot more, but he never
pushed, because that would be uncouth – and he’d married a
princess, not a cock sucking whore. On the odd occasions when she
indulged him, Emily was always in control – SHE sucked HIM – Les
did NOT fuck her mouth. And NEVER EVER was he allowed to come that
way. Emily would have given him his balls for breakfast if he’d
tried to empty them in her mouth. She had a real aversion to spunk
– at least to taking it orally; although recently she seemed
insatiable about having it squirted into her pussy!

So this sudden impulse to have a gobble at his cock came as
something of a surprise to hubby, Les. When Emily pulled back the
covers and attacked his flaccid dick, Les asked her what was up.
Emily told him that she was feeling a little naughty and that he
should thank his lucky stars. Les happily accepted this and it
wasn’t long before he was hard as a rock.

Emily sucked him with an enthusiasm she had never shown
before. Starting with Les lying flat on the bed, she got between
his legs and worked on the head, running her tongue all around the
glans and even daring to prod it into his piss slit. She took all
of him in, the cockhead knocking at the entrance to her throat as
she sucked on the entirety of his shaft. Then she climbed off the
bed and had Les sit on the edge so she could suck on his meat as
she knelt before him!

Now that was more than a rarity – that had never happened.
Kneeling before her husband was not something Emily had ever done.
So was this a treat for Les as thanks for his devotion – for four
years of married fidelity and pampering to her whims?

Hardly!

As Emily sucked her husband’s cock in this submissive
position, she was thinking all the while about Her Nemesis,
imagining the taste of his cock in her mouth, imagining the size
and the feel of it swelling out her cheeks, and the glans invading
her throat. She bobbed up and down imagining her head was
stationary, held firmly by Her Nemesis’s strong manly hands while
he thrust at her mouth and fucked her gullet, smashing her nose
with his hairy pubis.

Oblivious to this deception, Les got happily blown and it
wasn’t long before he was ready to shoot. “Emily! Emily! You have
to stop! I’m going to come!” he cried in warning.

Emily carried right on, ignoring the plea and the annoyance
she felt over the pathetic reaction. Les tried to push her away,
but his heart wasn’t in it and Emily plunged back down, sucking his
cock all the harder.

“Oh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh!” Les moaned. Then a moment later his
balls erupted.

Emily pulled back so that only Les’s glans was in her mouth.
She felt the first blast lash at her tongue and splash around her
palate. She was revolted. Emily could never bear to have cum in her
mouth. The first time she allowed it she had been physically sick –
after that she vowed never again. Yet here she was accepting a
portion, and a generous one at that – Les was gushing the stuff out
like a manic fountain. The flavour and the texture of Les’s semen
almost made her retch. Yet she held her husband’s cockhead in her
mouth and took every drop that he squirted out and swallowed it
down like a greedy little cum slut.

And in her mind that cum belonged to another. Nemesis wasn’t
the only bitch at play that day, and arrogance wasn’t the only sin
that needed avenging. Emily rewarded her husband’s love and
devotion with a sickening betrayal through this very dubious
treat.

Say hello to ‘Apate’ the goddess of deceit.

Over the next few weeks there were further elevator incidents.
The frequency increased as Emily stayed late more often. She
deluded herself and blamed Her Nemesis tormentor for this. The man
was distracting Emily’s thoughts during the day, so the extra hours
were needed as her efficiency was affected. Why else would she be
staying late?

As always he would be there, confidently smirking, oozing his
musk and some primal aura that had no business being active in the
metro-sexual age. And of course he was always alone in the elevator
which Emily had summoned – big and hunky, irritatingly handsome in
his loutish, rugged way – he seemed to get more attractive with
each passing day. And as always Emily got in and accepted his
abuse, battling with the temptation to feast her eyes and look.
Each tirade grew raunchier than the ones before. Emily’s ears
turned red at the foulness of the man’s words, the depravity of the
suggestions, and most of all, the shame that she felt for listening
and saying nothing more against Her Nemesis’s taunts.