Business Lunch

It was a strenuous morning. It always is when negotiating. And exhilarating. Jim Gunther had a reputation as a ruthless, unfeeling corporate power-wielder on an international scale. My reputation was similar, but more on a regional/national front. This was a major leap in my career. I had anticipated the confrontation, much as a champion-ship chess match. The morning had gone well: I felt like I'd held my own. The thrill of the game had been quite a rush.

So was Gunther. There had been an immediate chemistry between us from the instant our eyes had met. Even from opposite sides of the table, I found him irresistible. And it appeared to be mutual. And sensual.

I could tell by the glances from both of our back-up teams, that they sensed something different, unusual about the proceedings. I could also tell they were perplexed, unable to tell exactly what was happening. But I knew. So did Jim Gunther.

Lunch time arrived. "Harman, let's leave these men to their work and go off for lunch. There's an intriguing private club nearby that has a superb, if singular, fare. Believe me, you could travel the world and never have an experience like it. What d'ya say?"

"Sounds great." It was out of my mouth before I even knew I was considering it.

Gunther took me by the elbow and ushered me through the door. "Later, boys." By the looks on their faces, both teams were at a loss as to what had just happened.

. . .

We mounted the steps of a brownstone with no signage of any sort. At the second set of doors, Gunther pushed a button and was rewarded with a buzzing unlock. There must have been some sort of a surveillance camera, but I couldn't detect it.

We were met inside by a tuxedo dressed waiter. "Right this way gentlemen. It's good to have with us today, Sir."

"Thank you, Matthew. I'd like to share the specialty of the house with my guest, if it is available."

"Of course, Mr. Gunther. In fact, I think you'll find the selection rather nice."

For a brownstone, it was a large room. Even so, it probably held only five or six tables. It could have held more that three times that, but they were widely spaced and separated by planters, dividers, and palms. Once seated, you wouldn't see any other table. We did pass a couple on the way to our own, and I observed that it was an all male establishment.

As we sipped our drinks, I took in the understated opulence. Just a hint of classical music in the background. The walls were painted a deep ecru. The gold-leafed, coffered ceiling reflected the candles form the central chandelier and the ones on the tables. I didn't spot and electrified fixture anywhere. The place reeked of old money, elegance, and romance.

"Well, Harman, what do you think?"

"I'm impressed." Both with the room and the flickering reflections in his eyes.

"Wait ‘til you taste the chef's specialty. I guarantee you've never had anything like it."

"You treat all your business adversaries this well?"

There was a short silence as he stared deeply into my eyes. "No. Actually, you're the first to dine here. It isn't a place for just anyone. I somehow sensed you would appreciate it."

I felt both flattered and somehow threatened. I sensed sincerity in his words, but felt like I was being lied to by omission. I had to remind myself that this was a dangerous man. Before I needed to fill the silence with a response, Matthew appeared at his side.

"Are you ready to make a menu selection, Master Gunther?"

"Certainly." He rose, and with a cryptic smile, motioned for me to come along.

We slipped into a small side room, and I nearly shit my pants! The side wall was covered with a glass-fronted display case about fourteen inches deep. Inside wee six nude men. Each was manacled to the wall at neck, wrists, waist, and ankles. Their faces were covered with leather hoods with eye slits, but no mouth openings. Their eyes watched Gunther through the slits.

Gunther went directly to the first case, reached through a circular opening in the glass and caressed the guy's nuts. Well, not exactly caressed, more like inspected. I was still in shock. I had no idea what was happening, but I was very aroused.

He moved down the line, inspecting all six. Finally he went back to number three. "This is my choice, Matthew."

"Very good, Sir." He rolled a cart over. Gunther pulled the man's large balls through the opening. The writer slid a glass panel into place, trapping the man's gonads on our side of the glass. Then he took a instrument and clamped a metal band about the base of the scrotum. With another tool, he gave a mighty effort which crimped the band totally flat! Inside the case, the man's muscles tensed, and he began to struggle. There was nothing he could do.

Matthew then handed Gunther a very sharp butcher's cleaver and held a silver tray beneath the balls. Gunther struck expertly, and the guy's family jewels dropped onto the tray with a plop. There was a muffled scream from behind the leather mask, then silence. He must have passed out. I felt a little faint myself. But I'd never been harder in my life.

"Well, Harman, what's your pleasure? See something you like, or would you prefer to trust my judgement and select for you?"

I couldn't speak. I just motioned for him to carry on. Soon, a second set of man balls dropped to the tray.

He led me back to our table. Believe me, the chef here has a wonderful skill. You're in for the treat of your life."

I was stunned, in shock. Who were the guys in the case? What happened to those not selected? Were they set free? Or were they held somewhere until they were put into the case for another time?

Bondage had always thrilled me. So had cock and ball torture. But I had just witnessed the ultimate that had only been a fantasy. I was sexually aroused to the point of a hair trigger. And when Matthew sat a plate in front of me, the trigger was pulled. It only took one glance at the broiled, round medallions of meat on a bed of wild rice to hit my button. I exploded my load of cum into my boxers. I moaned.

Across from me, Gunther obviously guessed what had just occurred. "You beat me to it. I always shoot as I take my first bite." With that, his fork rose to his lips and he shuddered with his own climax.

As we continued our meal, I flirted with this soul mate. I realized we were sparing for dominance. If we ever really got together for sexual pleasures, it would be a real battle for the top role.

It wasn't until desert that my paranoia began to haunt, sparked by a single statement he made. "You know, you're the very first business rival I've had on this side of the glass."

I nearly choked on my wine. Suddenly I was troubled by doubts. Was he truly attracted to me, or was that all a ruse? Was this all an elaborate set up to intimidate? Were those six men truly rivals? When we go back to the office, how much did dare push? Or was that a bluff? Were they really S&M players who dug the masochistic thrill of the scene? The Russian roulette quality of allowing yourself to be displayed in the case? Who was this monster-hero?

And the ultimate question: if I won at the negotiations table, would I eventually find myself shackled in that case watching Gunther through two slits as he comes through the door? And was that a gamble that I was willing to take?

Suddenly I grinned. I'd just been challenged to a negotiations game with heightened consequences. And yes, I'm willing to take the risk. I'm up to the challenge of this world-class player. May the best man win.