Dirty Arrangement

by Nora Flite

  “Which floor do I get off on?”

  “Mr. Volt just said for you to go into the elevator.”

  My fingers shake on the handle as I step out of the car. I scan side to side—there's a few other vehicles parked here. I don't know the makes or models, but I can still tell they're pricey.

  I walk into the elevator, wondering what I should do next. I'm about to start pushing random buttons when a voice floats from the speaker box. “Hello Alice.” It's Thomas. “Just press the button for the basement, I'll be waiting.”

  A new rush of anxiousness hits my core. I tap the button, the elevator sinking as fast as my stomach. There's a 'ding' before the doors spread to reveal a long hallway. My shoes click on the polished wood floor, taking me towards the single door that's waiting for me. Lifting my fist, I hover there, debating if I should knock. Unless you plan on getting back in the elevator and abandoning this when you've gone this far... My knuckles tap.

  The door opens inwards. I'd imagined some dank dungeon after all my nervous fretting, but I can see in the low lights that it's a quaint room with a shaggy yellow rug. The walls are the same color, just darker. I can see a large television and a few couches, a single bookshelf, but otherwise it's sparse.

  “Glad to see you made it,” Thomas says from beside me. He was the one who opened the door. He shuts it gently, sipping from a glass. His eyes never leave me.

  “Hello, Mr. Volt.” Maybe I should apologize about not waking up in time this morning. “I just want to say—”

  “Have a seat on the couch,” he cuts me off.

  His briskness leaves me quiet. I eyeball the couch—a large red leather chaise—and swallow. I carefully sit myself on the cushions, perching like I'm ready to jump and run.

  Thomas folds himself gracefully a foot away from me, his long legs crossing, dark brown loafers glistening in the lights. He takes one more sip from his glass—whiskey, I think, when I sniff the air—then places it on the nearby coffee table. “Do you know why I asked you here?”

  I swallow audibly. “You mentioned something on the phone about... reprimanding me. Again, I want to emphasize how sorry I am! I've never been late to work!”

  He lifts his hand, ending my plea as easily as if he had covered my mouth. “You begged for a chance to prove yourself to me. I trusted you to keep that place running.”

  “I know,” I whisper. I'm struggling to look him in the eye. I've never felt so miserable.

  “You failed,” he purrs. “It's my job as your boss to make sure you don't again.”

  Lifting my eyes, I see that his lips are curled in a smirk. That confusing, alluring thrill rumbles through me again. His dominance makes me hot—so hot, I push my knees together. “You're right, I messed up. What are you going to do to me?”

  Thomas sits back, getting comfortable. Spreading his knees, he sets his palms on his thighs, tapping them. “I know exactly what you need, Alice.”

  I stare in disbelief.

  His smile grows. “I'm going to spank you,” he says.

  An awkward laugh explodes out of me. “You're joking.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “This is crazy.”

  Thomas moves his hands up and down his thighs in a languid, enticing motion. I'm drawn to it. Especially when he gets close to his zipper... to where his cock is hidden away. “I noticed something about you when we were in my office, Alice.”

  My breathing quickens. “What?”

  “You have a dark side. You like having someone conquering you, telling you what to do.” His fingers curl, my pussy twitches. “You're not going to walk away from this. I see it in your eyes. Now get in my lap.”

  The moment stretches between us. We stare into each others eyes, a tense game of chicken. I can hear my heart, feel my pulse. A deep, shaky breath rolls through my chest as I realize what I'm about to do.

  Thomas has me figured out in a way even I don't understand. This twisted, hot, needy part of me is too hungry to let me turn away from this situation.

  I want to know what he's going to do next.

  I lie my body across my boss's lap. Over my head I hear him let out a gritty moan—so quiet I nearly miss it. He's in control of himself, but I'm making him struggle to keep it together. Knowing that makes my clit throb.

  His palm traces over my spine through my silky blouse. He keeps going, stroking the swell of my ass, lifting goosebumps and bolts of electricity with his touch. My belly ripples with searing arousal—I'm wriggling in place and he hasn't even traced his way back up my body. Trembling, I bury my face into the arm of the couch. I wonder if my skin is as red as the leather.

  Thomas groans. “Your body is astounding.”

  A flush of pride hits me.

  Then the first slap arrives.

  It's sharp and sudden; I squeal in shock. I'm not prepared, why did I think I would be?

  He brushes the spot where he spanked me. “We all make mistakes. Being punished is how we learn. Trust me, you'll thank me for this.”

  “I doubt that,” I mumble into the couch. Both of us freeze. Shit. I didn't mean to say that out loud. The situation has my brain scrambled.

  His fingers roll up my back until they're tangled in my hair. It's a gentle grip, but I'm hyper aware of it. My scalp tingles—my pussy squeezes—I'm falling apart the more he does. “What an attitude you have,” he says softly. His grip tightens. “I think you like testing me. Do you like getting a reaction out of me, Alice? I love getting them out of you.”

  Thomas spanks my ass harder than before. Again and again, his palm claims my flesh, not holding back. The thin material of my pants gives me no protection.

  I moan—once—before trying to hold my breath. I don't want him to know how much I love this. He can't win, I won't let him! But when I think he's nearly done he keeps going.

  The idea of him dominating my body, controlling me so easily, is making my panties wet. His hand squeezes my ass. I wiggle my hips and cry out in defeat. “Enough, stop!”

  “Beg me,” he growls.

  I suck in a mouthful of shocked air. Beg him? I want to be angry but I'm too turned on to get there. His palms spread my ass cheeks, mauling them, and I give up and just moan like an animal in heat. “Please! I won't be bad, I won't misbehave! I swear, Mr. Volt! Oh, god...” I start panting. “I can't take it, I can't, I need... I need more, ah...”

  My body is shaking. Thomas caresses my tender ass, playing with the top of my pants. “Fuck. You beg so pretty. I won't spank you anymore, but I don't think you hated it. I think you loved it, Alice.”

  Abruptly he reaches beneath me, unhooking my button and zipper. One fluid yank pulls my pants down my thighs. Having my ass exposed to his seeking eyes leaves me frozen. I've never been so vulnerable. His other hand presses on my lower back, holding me steady, like he thinks I'll try and escape. I won't. My desire won't let me.

  Groping the roundness of my ass, he forces my legs open enough to give access between. His fingertips graze my soaked panties—I whimper. “You're so wet,” he moans, husky with his own need. I can feel his erection under my belly where I'm lying.

  Expertly, he traces the outline of my vulva, toying with my panties, tugging at the waistband and snapping them into place. He rolls a thumb backwards, grazing between my ass cheeks. “You're so ready to come. Maybe I should tease you more, hm?”

  “No, please, no.” My hips rub firmly against his hand. “I can't take it, Mr. Volt, please, I...”

  His chuckle fills me with lust. “Please let you come? Maybe.” He pulls the cotton into my crack. It makes me gasp, his response is an appreciative grunt. “The way these dig right into that hungry ass of yours is so beautiful.”

  I twist around to see what he's doing. Thomas is staring at how my panties are being pulled upwards, ready to snap. He's fascinated by what he sees. So am I. His free hand curls around the wet fabric of the crotch of my panties and yanks. I shudder as the material breaks and cool air whispers over my snatch.
<
br />   “How badly do you want me to finger you?” he demands.

  “Yes, do it,” I pant. I rock my ass upwards, trying to coerce him to slide his fingers inside of me. His hand pulls away cruelly. “Thomas, please, I'm going crazy.”

  “Mr. Volt.”

  “Mr. Volt,” I sob wantonly. “I need something, anything, please.”

  “I didn't think you were a greedy girl.” His fingertips slide along my left ass-cheek, then down to my inner thigh, making tiny circles, always out of reach of my clit. “You'd do anything to come right now.”

  “Yes.”

  Wordlessly he slips his fingers over my slit; I twitch violently. Thomas rubs my clit back and forth, and I make it easy for him by arching my back so my hips rise off his body. He has all the room he needs to rub me towards an orgasm. Heat rules my skin. I clench my thighs, humping his hand to drive myself over the edge. He summoned me to this place to punish me but all of that vanishes from my brain as my body melts. I just want to come. Nothing else matters.

  He plunges one finger inside my pussy. That's all I need—I moan loudly, biting the couch as I orgasm on his lap. Thomas strokes me inside and out through my climax. “Yes, yes, fuck yes,” I ramble.

  I'm close to coming again when his finger slips free. “Good girl.” Looking back, I watch him lick my juices from his finger. My cunt squeezes helplessly at the hot visual.

  Carefully, he rolls me off his lap and guides me to the soft rug at his feet. Baffled, I stare up at him, catching a glimpse of his cock where it struggles to bust free of his pants. He looks down at me expectantly. I know what he wants, because I want it, too.

  We haven't even kissed yet... and here I am, kneeling and undoing his zipper to get to his dick.

  My hands shake as I tug his trousers lower. His hard-on pushes his boxers out so far I have to lean away. I breath in, hand resting at the base of his cock. Lifting my eyes, I watch him through my eyelashes. Thomas is fixated on me, his mouth a hard line. “Fucking hell,” he whispers.

  His control is fracturing on the edges. It pushes me onward—I want to see if he'll break like I did. Probably not, but even a little is exciting. Running my tongue over my lips to wet them, I peel his underwear down until his hard cock bounces into the light. It's thick enough that my fingers can't quite wrap around, his skin warm, his musk making me dizzy.

  His shaft slides over my tongue easily; down my throat less so. I work to give him the best blowjob I can, but I've never handled a cock that thick. Saliva drips down my chin. Over my head my boss hisses through clenched teeth.

  I nearly blackout from my rabid need to taste his cum. When he works his fingers into my hair, holding me steady, I reach down and start masturbating. It doesn't matter which of us climaxes first—or again, in my case—because they overlap. Warm jizz flows down my throat. Thomas keeps his grip on the back of my head, as if I'd dare to not swallow.

  He tastes delicious; I keep sucking, tongue circling his cock-head, until he pulls away. My face is wet from my chin to my throat. Breathing heavily, I wipe my mouth with my forearm. I can't believe we just did all of that. I want to see his expression, but he turns away before I can.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  He zips his pants shut, saying nothing as I stare at the back of his head. I'm sure he's debating something and I'm anxious to know what. He must come to some decision because he walks towards a fridge in the corner. “I have a gift for you.” Seconds later he returns with a small paper bag. His expression is calm, all evidence of his wild lust erased. How can someone have that much control? I'm still kneeling there, shivering with aftershocks, and he's acting like we didn't just make each other orgasm.

  “Take this home with you,” he says sternly. “And don't be late for work tomorrow.”

  I take the package numbly. “What is it?”

  Thomas smirks sharply. “You'll love it. I know you will. Put it in your fridge and don't peek until I tell you to.” He helps me to my unstable feet. We're face to face; his eyes dart to my mouth. He's thinking the same thing I am.

  Clutching the bag, I close the distance and push my lips on his. He doesn't stop me. How can a kiss be more intimate than being spanked by your boss? More intense than giving him a BJ? I can't explain what I'm thinking, I just know I want to keep our lips pressed together because here, like this, I don't need to wonder if my life is coming apart at the seams.

  My tongue grazes the sharp edges of his teeth—he groans, then rips away from me. His dark eyes burn with lust. He wants me and he isn't quick enough to hide it. “Thomas,” I whisper.

  He motions for me to pull up my pants. “You need to leave.”

  A tiny part of my heart cracks. I bend down and tug my pants over my naked pussy. I don't waste time looking for my panties, I know they were destroyed during the spanking. “Why are you doing this?” I ask him.

  He's dead silent.

  “Thomas—”

  “It's Mr. Volt,” he reminds me coldly. His shoulders hunch, like he's pissed off or brooding over something. “I told you to go. My driver will take you home. Bye, Alice.”

  I don't understand, but it's clear he's done with me. Tightening my grip on the paper bag, I enter the elevator. Thomas doesn't look my way as the doors pinch together.

  He'd called the spanking my punishment.

  This rejection hurts so much more.

  Chapter Four

  ALICE

  AFTER EVERYTHING THAT happened last night, I expect work to be boring in comparison.

  But when I walk in, I discover a box on the counter and a note. Setting my jacket aside, I read the words with growing curiosity.

  Alice,

  Please replicate this recipe, then create your own twist on it. It's the start of a new range of desserts I want on our menu.

  —Thomas

  There's a lot to unpack here but a funny little word sticks with me. He called it 'our' menu. I would have hated that a few days ago, but now, it makes my heart thud. I open the box and find a few items inside, as well as a recipe with a photo of something called a cake-bomb. It's like a cake-pop, but when you cut it open, sprinkles pour out.

  It's been a long time since I baked something different than what my mentor taught me. Too long, actually. Inspired by the challenge of recreating this treat, then making my own spin on it, I throw my new pink chef coat on and get to work.

  Once I have the normal morning routine squared away, I begin arranging my space for the cake-bomb. I don't notice it's time to open until the first tray of bombs is cooling. There's not enough time in the day to practice new recipes and run the bakery, but I'm too excited in the new desserts to ignore them. Chewing my lip, I make a decision.

  I carry out my tray of chocolate bombs and place it on the far right section of the front counter. I'll just decorate until a customer comes. I've always done my baking in the back kitchen, like it was some secret ritual. I start to regret being so exposed. Before I can retreat back into the kitchen, the door bell jingles.

  “Morning!” Ms. Snip chirps. Her eyes light up at the sight of me piping frosting onto a cake bomb. “Oooh, what are those?”

  “Cake-bombs. I'm working on perfecting them.” I hesitate as she comes closer for a better look. “Be kind, they're a mess.”

  “Oh, no, they look amazing.” She inhales with a sigh. “If you need a taste tester...”

  “Are you sure? I can't promise they're good. Like I said, it's my first time.”

  “I've never eaten anything you made that I didn't like.”

  I turn pink with pride. “Okay, but I did warn you.” I finish decorating the one I'm working on, then set it on a plate. “I hope you like it.”

  She takes it over to the tiny corner table in the bakery. I watch her anxiously from the corner of my eye as I start coating another cake-bomb with pink frosting. Ms. Snip takes her time, I can't read her face, either.

  Then my door opens again and another customer enters. Suddenly I'm swept up in a rush
of orders that keep me from working on the cake-bombs. I'm ringing someone up when Ms. Snip clears her throat politely. “Alice?” she asks. I glance at her. “That cake-bomb was the best thing I've eaten in a long time. Please tell me they'll be a permanent addition to your menu.”

  My heart thrums with joy. The other customers are staring at us, some of them eyeing the cake bombs on the tray to one side. “Thank you so much,” I say. “They'll be on the menu officially as soon as possible.”

  She beams. “Fantastic. I'll get my usual order, then... and maybe one more cake-bomb? If it's no too much trouble?”

  Giggling, I hand her what she asked for. “Have a great day, Ms. Snip.”

  I'M STUNNED TO SEE that it's closing time. The day flew by as I experimented with the cake-bomb recipe. Customers took pictures of me with their phones as I decorated. I was sure I had more foot traffic than normal. Was it all because of the cake-bombs?

  I stay an extra hour to do a few more trials. I'm confident enough to adjust the recipe, making it my own, and adding a rainbow colored cream to the middle of the bombs that looks beautiful when a bite is taken.

  Proud of my success, I clean up and head home. My brain needs a vacation after so much effort. I'm stoked, though—it felt great to embrace my creativity. It really has been too long.

  I cross into my apartment just as my cellphone rings. I recognize the number—Thomas—and answer. “Hello?”

  “Alice,” he says, “thank you for being at work on time.”

  My neck hairs bristle. “You're welcome,” I spit, unable to keep the razors off my tongue.

  He chuckles at my reaction. “Let's have dinner tonight. I can pick you up in an hour.”

  “What? It's such short notice,” I stutter.

  “Did you have other plans?”

  I glance around my messy apartment. Of course I had no plans. A bath, maybe. “Okay, if you're offering, I won't turn down a free meal.”

  “Perfect. One more thing—take the package I gave you out of the fridge. There's instructions inside. I'll see you soon, Alice.” The line goes dead; I don't have time to say goodbye or even argue. My eyes drift to the fridge. I'd stashed the paper bag there and forgotten about it.