The Boss. Various
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you a moment …’
It barely took a moment. I threw myself eagerly on to the bed, pulled up my skirt, yanked off my knickers, layingmyself bare for Mara’s tongue.
Soon enough it was there, planted between my lips, while she breathed and stroked and licked like an expert, kissing my clit and pushing her fingers inside my cunt with such absorption that you would never realise she was getting fucked from behind all the while. Her face lay buried in the junction of my legs, building my arousal higher and higher, while the boss, still almost fully clothed, rose behind her like a giant, his tie flapping this way and that, his cheeks growing redder, his veins beginning to stand out on his forehead.
I was the first to come, melting blissfully into that hot, eager mouth. She didn’t withdraw her tongue, but kept on kissing my spread lips until she moaned into them, her own orgasm forced from her by the boss’s purposeful thrusts.
He held on a while longer, seeming to enjoy his view enough to want to prolong it, but eventually he too joined us in our post-coital haze, collapsing on top of Mara’s back with a roar.
‘Well, Kim,’ he said, once he had Mara over his lap to remove the plug. ‘Thank you so much for your input, but I hope we haven’t kept you from your duties.’
Oh. My duties. I should have finished polishing the silver in the drawing room ages ago.
‘Oh, right,’ I said, looking from him to her.
Mara smiled at me with lazy satiety. ‘That was awesome,’ she drawled. ‘We’ll come here again.’
‘I hope you do,’ I said, smoothing down my skirt. ‘I really hope so.’
Without him, next time.
‘Here’s my card,’ said the boss, handing it over.
It read: ‘J Barraclough. Professional disciplinarian and dom. All submissive tastes catered for.’
‘Oh! So you aren’t …?’
‘We have a purely business relationship,’ said Mara. ‘You can have my card too, if you want. Or just my mobile number.’
‘I’d like that.’
Leaving the room with Mara’s contact details, I praised whoever might be the patron saint of voyeurs. And, as I passed the bust of the old lord, I almost thought he winked at me.
Property Of
Sommer Marsden
‘Winona,’ he said. Just him saying my name sent a shiver up my spine. I turned a bit too fast and almost propelled myself out of my office chair. Which led to a nervous little titter.
Nice. Very sexy.
‘Mr Bennett,’ I said, nodding.
I wanted to look cool, but I felt like I was vibrating. How long would this last? I wondered.
He smiled as he put some papers neatly on top of his stack of folders. His suit was charcoal grey, his tie a navy blue, his shirt white. All very boring components that did nothing at all until you tied them all together by hanging them on a lean but muscular handsome man. A breath-stealing kind of handsome.
Trevor Bennett. My boss of all things.
‘Can you come into my office, please?’
The word ‘can’ was a joke. He meant: ‘Come into my office. Now.’
I nodded and cleared my throat. I had nothing to say, but he just made me feel that way. Like I had something stuck in my throat – maybe his cock. I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing and then said softly, ‘Coffee?’
‘Already have some. We need to discuss tonight.’
Tonight? I had no idea, but I faked like I did and locked my computer. ‘Coming,’ I said.
That made him smile.
***
Trevor Bennett is a powerful man. He plays with money the way I used to play with dolls as a young girl. I followed him into his office, feeling like my legs were only a mirage. That they couldn’t actually support me. My spiffy black slingback heels tip-tapped on the hardwood floor. They are his favourite shoes. I wear them often. And often when I wear them, they are all that I am wearing.
Trevor indicated a seat and I took it, smoothing my skirt primly because I knew it made him think dirty things. It often made him do dirty things shortly after thinking them.
‘Tonight is the big wooing party. We bring in all the millionaires and billionaires and all those we want to bring into the fold. We woo them and wine them and dine them and try to convince them to let us play with their money.’
I nodded. Waiting.
‘I’d like you to attend with me.’
I blinked and stared. Brilliant.
‘I … um, I … of course.It’s my duty as your assistant to –’
‘As my date.’
Trevor leaned back against his desk and opened the button ofhis suit coat. I loved to watch him move that way – short, economical movements with no fluffery or wasted energy. He was a work of art. And he could make me come like I was dying. Brutal, wild, sweet – all the things orgasms were made to deliver.
‘Your date?’ I echoed. Flabbergasted. I had never in a million years dreamed it would ever go beyond fucking.
His smile said he knew that. Big grey eyes, as stormy as the weather in March, regarded me and my stomach tingled like I had swallowed a live electrical wire. My face was hot, my hands cold, my stomach and chest full of anxiety and, yes … excitement.
‘Yes, as my date. I think we’ve gotten to that point, don’t you?’
I could only nod dumbly. If I opened my mouth, something entirely mortifying would pop out, I was sure.
‘You do know what they think of us? Don’t you? You and your pointy shoes or your big black boots? You and your fucking phenomenal ass and ice-blue eyes? And me in my big hot-shot office giving you dick-tation.’
I blushed and studied my lap. I bit my lip and tried to breathe. The toe of that pointy shoe was swinging like a metronome.
‘Do you, Winona?’
I shook my head. ‘No, Sir.’
‘No, what?’
‘No, Trevor,’ I said.
The man was a paradox. Expecting – no, demanding – the exact opposite of what most dominant men demanded. He confused me and scared me and, oh, fuck, God, yes, he made me want him so badly all I could focus on was the thumping demand of my cunt.
‘They think you have me pussy-whipped. But not just figuratively, literally. They think you are the one wielding the whip, as it were. And I am the one asking for one more, Mistress.’ He winked and I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position for my poor, swollen, wanting nether bits.
‘I had no idea.’
He straightened his trouser leg. ‘Doesn’t matter. I don’t really give a shit what they think.’
‘The mark of a true dominant.’
‘But I find it amusing. I’d like to put a little trinket on you. So you remember when they all start flirting, and touching and joking … that you are mine. Do you approve?’
Again, I nodded mutely. Maybe I had a future career as a ventriloquist’s dummy.
‘But, you know, some studded dog collar or bondage nonsense would look really stupid with a lovely cocktail dress and delicate sensual shoes. It would also be abysmal on that neck of yours.’
Thank God. The thought of something that tight