The Editors Meet









The offices of Dame von Huete were still stirring into life as Ingrid, the Art Director, strode into the main work area.  A forty year old platinum blonde, she was wearing a black padded leather jacket and matching mini skirt, thigh high black leather boots and short leather gloves with a studded cuff pulled back.  There were only a few members of staff around as she made her way to the office, the cleaners working round her as she looked at the messages on her desk.


“Why Veronika called for a full editorial board meeting at 8 am, today of all days, I’ll never understand,” she said as she looked through her papers.  Traditionally, she liked to work from mid-morning to late at night, but the text the previous evening had been most insistent.


“Well, might as well see who else has made it in,” she said to herself as she walked across the work area, and entered the board room.  Two cleaners will still hard at work, one hoovering while the other dusted the large mahogany table.


“You can finish in here later,” Ingrid said as she put her folders down, “there is an early board meeting today.”


“Yes, we know.”


She turned slowly to look at the cleaners, and then raised her hands as one of them pointed a handgun in her direction.


“Not a word,” the one holding the gun said as she smiled, “take a seat, we need to make you nice and comfortable.”


“What’s going on,” Ingrid said as she sat in one of the high backed mahogany chairs, while the second cleaner put her rag down, and took a length of rope from her cleaning trolley.


“All in good time,” the armed woman said as Ingrid felt the second woman pull her arms round the back of the chair, and then the feeling of rope as her wrists were secured together.  “Now, why don’t we have a little chat while we’re waiting, hmmm?”


“What about?”


The armed woman looked at Ingrid’s chest as the zip on her jacket started to move down from the pressure her chest was forcing on it from the inside.  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something...”




“Good morning.”


The cleaners turned and nodded at Greta as he walked in, and headed to her office.  The Features editor for the magazine was in her early fifties, and as she took off her brown coat her black jersey dress was revealed.  The white lines on the yoke and body broke up the dark look, as did the ornate white geometric pattern on the cuffs, neck and hem.  Her legs were in a pair of black over the knee leather boots, the glimpse of dark hose between the hem of the dress and the tops of the boots just enough in her eyes.


She put her hand through her stylish cut dyed blonde hair as there was a knock on her door.




“May I clean in here,” the dark haired woman said as she looked in.


“Of course – come on in,” Greta said as she sat at her desk, putting on a pair of reading glasses as she started to check through some proofs.


She didn’t realise what was happening until it was too late, as the cloth was clamped over her nose and mouth, taking her completely by surprise as she said “whatthhhh” and inhaled through her nose and mouth the sweet, cloying fumes.  Greta suddenly felt woozy, light headed, but she was dimly aware of a tall woman coming into her room.


“Don’t knock her out completely – just enough to make sure we can move her."


The cloth was removed and she felt someone remove her glasses, before she was carried from her office.  Through her misty eyes, she seemed to recognise the boardroom, and someone sitting in one of the chairs.


“Ingrid,” she said sleepily, “is that you?”


The other person merely nodded as she was sat down, and someone held her shoulders while somehow her back and arms were secured to the chair.  IT felt like rope, and she was powerless to stop them moving her hands behind the chair back and somehow keeping them together as well.


“Two ready, Mistress,” a woman said as she heard muffled grunts, “we expect the next any minute.”


“Go and make sure she comes in here,” the tall woman said, as Greta let her head fall forward....



Thirty year old Anna smiled as she came into her office.  It might still be only seven thirty, but this was her dream job, as the Style editor at Dame von Huete, and she was determined to do whatever was necessary to keep that job.


So if the Publisher called an Editorial Board meeting at eight, then she would get up at six and drive for an hour to get here.  Her dark brown hair was platted into two long pigtails, and she was wearing a brown patterned minidress, with a high collar, dark hose and a pair of knee length dark brown leather boots with a four inch stiletto heel and rows of white dots on the outside.


As she looked round the office floor, she spoke to a couple of the juniors and then walked straight into the boardroom – stopping dead as she saw her colleagues in their chairs.  Bands of white rope held them to the chair backs, forcing their chests out, the leather jacket Ingrid was wearing pulled down to reveal her black top.  Greta’s head was bowed, but she could see both women had something over their mouths, highlighting their red lips.


“Sit down.”


She felt a gloved hand on her shoulder, and a small disc press on her back, as she was made to sit in one of the chairs, her arms pulled round the chair back and rope sued to secure her wrists together.  She could see three women dressed as cleaners, two of whom took ropes from a trolley and knelt beside her, pulling her ankles apart and securing them to the front legs of the chair.


“What is Gonnnnmmmgdddwhststthtt,” she said as someone pushed a sponge ball into her mouth, and then tape was smoothed over it.  That was when Anna saw the clear tape over the mouths of the other two women, gleaming in the soft light from the ceiling lamps.


More rope was wrapped around Anna’s body, forcing her chest out as it sat above and below her breasts, and she was made to sit erect.  She watched as a tall dark haired woman walked round, and then said “one more – make sure she comes in.”


Hmgsswhtshppnnn,” she said as she looked at Ingrid, but the older woman just shook her head as she looked to the door. 




Johanna stepped into the office, looking round as she walked to her own office, the stiletto heels of her black leather over the knee boots clicked on the wooden floor as she talked to some of the juniors, and then closed her office door behind her.


Her long blonde hair fell over the shoulders of her camel coloured coat dress, the top barely keeping her chest inside and the skirt coming halfway down her thighs – although as she sat and crossed her legs, it opened so that she had to preserve her modesty.  The dress had short sleeves, her bare arms and legs enjoying the cool breeze from the air conditioning.


It was then she looked at her diary, and grabbed the mock up of the latest issue, before she walked quickly to the boardroom.  “Sorry, I had to take care of something,” she said as she closed the door, “what are...


“Be quiet, and sit down.”


The women standing in front of her was wearing a black latex catsuit, the top slightly open to reveal a little of her chest, and thigh high black suede boots.  She wore short leather gloves, and a mask over her eyes made of black felt.  Four other women in the room were removing their cleaner’s overalls, to reveal black jumpers, leggings and thigh high boots.


Worse, her three work colleagues were bound tightly to chairs, their mouths covered with some sort of clear tape, Greta slowly raising her head as she realised her situation.


“Sit down.”


Johanna slowly nodded as she sat opposite Greta, allowing one of the black clad women to pull her arms around the back of her chair and then use white rope to secure her wrists together.  Tying them down to the chair back, she gasped as more rope was passed around her arms, chest and the chair back, forcing her to sit upright as two of the women sat down and pulled her ankles to the sides, securing them with further rope to the legs of the chair.


Hmggsswhsshppnnn,” Greta called out as she shook her head and tried to get free.


“A word of caution,” the tall woman said, “it can be very easy to make yourself vomit in that position – you do that, there is nowhere for that bile to go.  Do you wish me to paint a picture?”


Greta’s eyes shot open, and she shook her head as Ingrid looked over.  Clmurslffgtee, wrllnthsmmpshn.”


“What is hmggsmmmmm,” Johanna said as a large sponge ball was pushed into her mouth, the material expanding and forcing her tongue to the roof of her mouth before clear tape was pressed firmly over her lips.


“Now,” the tall woman said, “we have a little while.  Enjoy yourselves.”


“With pleasure Mistress,” the four women said as they stood behind one of their captives, and then reached round, massaging and squeezing their chests as all four looked at each other.  Ingrid let out  a low moan as she closed her eyes, all four joining in s their bodies responded to the general assault.


So when Ingrid and Johanna felt the fronts of their outfits been opened, and then the leather gloved hands pulling down the cups of their bras and playing with their nipples, while Greta and Anna watched the skirts of their dresses been lifted up, and the gloved hands moving between their legs.


“Will you join us Mistress?”


“No – I am waiting for the main guest to arrive...”





“Good morning Jutta.”


The fifty five year old chief secretary looked up from her desk to see Veronika standing there, wearing a black jacket and skirt with a white round necked top, a coloured silk scarf wrapped loosely round her neck.  Her legs were snugly sitting in a pair of dark grey over the knee boots, her dark hair expertly styled on her head.


“Good morning Madame Mueller,” Jutta said as she stood up.  She was wearing a red jacket over a black polo shirt, leather trousers and stiletto heeled ankle boots.  Her red hair was swept up over her head, as she picked up her pad.


“Claire, do you have my diary for today?”


Veronika’s PA stood up, a tablet in her hand as she nodded and smiled.  She was the same age as Veronika, with greying red hair that contrasted with Veronika’s dark hair, and wore a black jacket and trousers, the legs of the trousers tucked into short black suede boots.


“The editorial team should have assembled – though why they wanted the early meeting with us I have no idea,” Veronika said as they walked down the stairs and across the editorial floor to the board room.  “Still, it means we start the day with a smile.”


“Always start the day with a smile,” Jutta said as she opened the door, and then said “is the air conditioning playing up in...”


As the three women walked in, they all heard the buzzing sound, but that was not what caught their attention.  What did was the sight of the Art director, as well as the Features, Style and Fashion editors, all sat in chairs and secured in place with tight bands of rope.  Their eyes were closed, the moans muffled by the tape covering their lips, two with bare chests and two with their skirts pulled up to expose their panties.  All four had ropes tied round their waists and between their legs, and they could clearly see the devices under the ropes.


“What the...”


“Good morning Frau Muller – so glad you could join your team.”


She looked at the tall woman who walked in front of her, the front of her catsuit very slightly open, and then heard the gasps behind her as the door closed.  Turning round, she saw four women dressed in black, one holding the wrists of both Jutta and Claire behind their backs as another wrapped lengths of rope around their arms to secure them together.


“Who are you,” Veronika said as she turned back round to see the masked woman smile, “and why have you done this to my staff?”


“This?  Oh this is just a little fun to make sure I have your full attention Frau Mueller – or may I call you Veronika?”


“Who are you?”


She turned again to see the women wrapping ropes around the arms and chests of both Jutta and Claire, their breasts forced out by the pressure of the ropes.  They looked at their boss before they were made to face each other, and ropes were tied round their waists.


“Who am I?”  The woman laughed as she walked over to Veronika, and stroked her gloved hand down her cheek.  “My name is Sinthia Stoob – perhaps you have heard of me.”


Veronika nodded slowly – she had heard of Sinthia Stoob.  A very highly paid industrial spy, she specialised in getting information using rather – personal techniques.  Techniques which both Jutta and Claire acknowledged as the ropes were pulled up between their legs and then secured to their wrists.


“What...  What are you going to do?”


“Right now,” Sinthia said as she walked behind Veronika, and guided her wrists behind her back, crossing them as she felt the rope pulled against her skin, forcing them together as the rope went around and between her arms.  The dark haired editor let out a soft gasp as feelings all too familiar started to build within her.


“I understand you have been a very unlucky woman Veronika,” Sinthia cooed as she took another length of rope and pulled it around her arms, making her elbows nearly touch as her chest was pushed out.


Jutta and Claire had been made to kneel facing each other, and then bound tightly together around their upper bodies as two of the women were securing their ankles together, and the fourth binding their legs together and to each other above their knees. 


She could see the expression on their faces as Sinthia took rope and wrapped it around her body, pulling her arms into her body below her chest, and then wrapping it tightly round, above and below, the ropes rubbing on her chest as she watched her most trusted associates been gagged with sponge balls and clear tape.


“make sure they are suitably entertained,” Sinthia said, the four women nodding as they started to play with the two women, while her captor pulled some rope under Veronika’s left arm, pulled it up and round the back of the neck, and then under the other arm, tying it off at the back of her neck.


“Hey – sorry I’m late, but...”


“Oh god no,” Veronika whispered as two of the women in black stood up, “Margheritha.”


The thirty year old head of her modelling agency was the only one in the room not wearing boots, instead sporting a pink sleeveless mini dress and matching pumps.  She barely had time to register what was going on before two of the women grabbed her, forced her to her knees and started to bind her wrists and ankles.


“Please,” Veronika said as she struggled, the ropes rubbing on her chest as she started to feel hot.  Her niece could only stare mutely at Veronika as ropes were passed round her arms and body, while she felt Sinthia putting her arms on her chest and slowly, rhythmically, stroking her breasts, making her sigh despite her fear, her apprehension.




She watched as Margheritha was gagged in the same way as the others, and a crotch rope pulled between her legs, making her squeal as she was made to lie down and her ankles and legs bound.  As the pressure continued on her own chest, she heard the buzzing get louder, looking at her assistants as the vibrators were inserted under the crotch ropes against their exposed crotches.  They looked at each other and then started to gently gag kiss, as Margheritha’s ankles were pulled back and secured to her own crotch rope, before the vibrator was slipped in.


“Now then,” Sinthia said as she kissed Veronika’s neck, “my colleagues, now that they have had their fun, are going to access your computers and take care of some business for me, while you and I get – better acquainted.”


“What do you mean by that?”


Sinthia’s response was to squeeze Veronika’s chest, making her open her mouth and gasp as something was pushed in – but it wasn’t a sponge ball.  It was a folded silk scarf, which sat on her tongue and filled the space before she closed her lips over it.  She watched as Sinthia pressed the layer of clear tape over her lips, and then moved her jumper up, taking care to keep her breasts framed as she caressed her chest.


“This is a beautiful scarf,” she said as the room slowly filled with muffled moans of pleasure, “allow me to put it to good use.”  She loosened the scarf and then moved it up over Veronika’s mouth, pulling it tight around her head as it covered the gag, and then knotted it carefully at the base of her neck.


Sinthia smiled as she slowly massaged and squeezed her captive’s chest, as her team logged into the computers and started to obtain the information they needed. Veronika was aware of what they were doing, but with her editorial team been driven mad again by the pressure and stimulation between their legs, and her own mind succumbing to the effect her captor’s gloved and strong hands was having on her body, she found herself remembering past experiences, past captures, past pleasures...


“I do so love your boots.”


She was aware that Sinthia was now kneeling behind her, her gloved hands lowly stroking up and down her leather clad legs, as a chill ran up and down her spine.  She didn’t know what it was Sinthia was doing, but it just felt so good...


“I want you to lie down for me.”


Veronika nodded as she knelt, and then lay on her stomach, aware of Sinthia as she started to stroke her hands down her legs, gently kissing the back of them as she made her way down to the heels of her boots.  IT was wrong, but it felt so right...


Her ankles were crossed, and she felt the rope as it pulled her legs together, the rope rubbing and squeaking as it went round and between her limbs, holding then firmly together as she rubbed her feet.


“You wear these very well,” Sinthia said, Veronika nodding as her captor took more rope, and lashed her legs together below her knees, the rope around and between before she felt Sinthia sitting across her legs.




Sinthia said nothing, instead moving herself up and down as her hands reached under Veronika and started to massage her chest.  She could feel her nipples firming suddenly as they were gently pinched, before Sinthia moved her hands down, stroking her crotch as she rubbed her leather boots with her own legs.


Veronika could not stop herself twisting round, the ropes rubbing and making her feel even warmer as Sinthia kept rubbing.  She could hear her softly moaning as well, before she moved down and started to kiss her legs, her hand moving between Veronika’s legs as she felt the pleasure beginning to build within her.


“Oh that is so good,” Sinthia whispered as she slipped her hand into Veronika’s panties, making her gasp even more as she felt the digits stroking over her damp and sensitive clitoris. 


HsttlrddddVeronika said as she lifted her head, Sinthia smiling as she said “that’s right – let it all out, let your pleasure find release.  Consider it my way of apologising for all the trouble we have put you and your colleagues to.”




“Ah, there it is,” Sinthia said as Veronika shook, and she gently kissed the damp black hair.  She got up and licked her gloved fingers, before wrapping rope around Veronika’s waist and then pulling it between her legs.  She squealed and wriggled, the new sensations thrilling her as the rope was tied to her wrists, and then a vibrator was slipped in.


Finally, her ankles were pulled back, the leather squeaking as her feet were secured to her crotch rope, and the vibrator pulled under the tight ropes on her clit.


“We’ll leave by the back door I think – have fun ladies,” Sinthia said as she and her team left, the four seated women gasping as yet another orgasm hit them, and the other four struggling as they looked at each other.


Veronika did have to acknowledge one thing, as another orgasm threatened to burst – the day was starting with a smile...







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