Free The House of Pain by Tara Crescent

after work, I head to a bar around the street with my coworkers. They are a good bunch. I’m going to miss working with them. My boss Jason. There’s my friend Toni, who’s always good for a giggle. Adam, a dreamer, who always has pictures of his vacations in his cubicle, and spends a lot of time dreaming about the next trip. Paul, quiet and efficient. Sandra, the only one I dislike; she’s a complainer – she has no life outside work. Comes in early, leaves late, but doesn’t manage to get anything done in her hours at her desk, because she’s too busy gossiping and complaining. Ok, I won’t miss Sandra. But I’ll definitely miss the rest.
    Our department has been through ups and downs as we’ve struggled to define ourselves and prove to our management that we indeed add value. And from the rumours of layoffs, it doesn’t look like the struggles are over either. But they are for me. I’ve worked my last day. I have a week off, and then I start a new chapter in my life.
    We giggle a lot, consume an inordinate amount of wine; and get rather drunk.
    ***
    It is 5.55pm Saturday afternoon, and I am at Doug’s door. I take a deep breath to still my nerves, and ring the doorbell.
    I hear Alia’s typical volley of barks, and then the door opens. As before, Alia tries to bowl me over. I pet her, laughing. It’s hard to remain nervous or serious in the face of Alia’s enthusiasm.
    Doug smiles at me. “Hey Sara,” he says. His eyes are warm and friendly. “Come on in.”
    I follow him into the kitchen. “Want a drink?” he asks me.
    “Please,” I say.
    He hands me a beer; grabs one for himself. And then he gives me my first order.
    “Sara, I’d like you to go downstairs, please.” His voice is firm today. “Take off your clothes. Keep your underwear on. Wait for me.”
    He hasn’t touched me. I’m not sure if he’s still angry with me about Wednesday night. I nod. I obey.
    It’s a rainy Saturday. Wet and chilly, a harbinger of the coming autumn. The basement is thankfully warm though. Doug has the fireplace going and it fills the room with warmth. I’ve dressed casually. I’m wearing jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers. I take off my clothes and perch at the end of the bed. I sip my beer quietly. My thoughts are scattered. Nervousness and anticipation are warring inside me.
    I hear Doug’s footsteps on the stairs and he walks in.
    “Come here,” he says, gesturing to the middle of the room. I walk over, still holding my beer. Doug reaches forward, takes the beer from my hand, and sets it down on a side-table next to the bed.
    “So, Sara, did you masturbate?” His voice is relaxed. He is standing really close to me. I can feel the heat emanate from him and I can smell his smell, a combination of soap and aftershave and hot man. My breathing quickens, ever so slightly, as my body reacts to his nearness.
    “No,” I whisper.
    “Good girl,” he says, approvingly. He walks around me, eying my body. I flush under his examination.
    “Take your underwear off, please.”
    I gulp. I remind myself I’ve been naked in front of Doug before, but he’s always taken my clothes off. To take my clothes off in front of him, when the room is in light, and he’s watching me, his eyes thick with lust, his nostrils flared; this is difficult.
    “Sara.” Impatience in his voice.
    I quickly obey. Perhaps it’s easiest this way, to obey whatever he asks me to do, without thinking about how it makes me feel.
    But his eyes are on me, slowly examining my body, and I am blushing at his inspection. “Turn around,” he says. I obey.
    His hands are caressing my ass. “No trace of welts,” he says. “Are you up to getting spanked today?”
    Wetness floods my pussy at his words; my nipples are erect. He notices my body’s reaction and laughs. “I think the answer to that is yes, isn’t it Sara?”
    “Yes,” I whisper.
    He pulls my face towards him and kisses me. His lips are strong, he’s nibbling my lips with his, his