The Billionaire’s Intern

by Abby Wilkes

  "Don't you think I should punish you?" he keeps pressing, now approaching me from behind.

  "Yes, Sir," I hurry to reply.

  I flinch as I feel something draping along my back. A string. No, a few thick strings, leather maybe. A flogger? It might be.

  He gently caresses along my spine, starting just below my neck until he reaches my tailbone. I shiver and pant beneath him. Anticipation and arousal are forming a toxic mix. Oh God, how long I haven't had this. How much I need it!

  He withdraws the flogger and without any warning, I receive the first stroke across my behind. I flinch, but don't make a noise. The pain is minimal, nothing compared to what I’ve endured before. But I know he’s just getting started.

  "This is what you want?" he asks, even though it sounds more like a statement than a question.

  I nod and remember just in time to reply: "Yes, Sir."

  “Have you been flogged before?”

  I shake my head. “No, Sir.”

  "A lot of firsts tonight, then," he says—and two more strokes cut into my flesh, following close to each other. They are a lot stronger than the first one, causing me to bite my lower lip and squint my eyes together.

  He gives me a few moments to catch my breath before he grants me with another round. Three this time, each of them stronger than the ones before, each burning on my skin like hot iron. I start panting heavily, but he doesn't leave me much time to recover—four new strokes hit me, cleverly placed all over my behind and the back of my thighs.

  I cannot keep my voice down this time and yelp with each one of them touching my sore skin.

  "You wanted this," he reminds me, his voice cold and distant. The voice of a true alpha.

  I’m breaking a sweat and breathing heavily, gasping for air as I try to process the pain.

  And yet I want nothing more than for him to continue. I want more. I know I can handle more.

  And so does he.

  A new round of leather strokes rains down on my skin. Five this time, each blow burning more than the ones before. I’m shrieking and moaning with each one, as they cut into my tortured skin like hot knives.

  Tears are running down my face when he’s done. He pauses for a while, observing me as I process the pain he’s caused me. I’m trembling, shivering and taking gulps of air. Sweat is running down my spine and my temples.

  He moves slowly, as if he doesn't want to scare me away, as he places the flogger on the desk next to my hands.

  "Good girl," he whispers. "Don't move."

  "Yes," I whimper. "Sir."

  I can feel his hand on my lower back, gently stroking my sore skin. His touch is soft and warm, pleasantly tickling on my burning behind as he moves lower.

  "Spread your legs," he demands.

  "Yes, Sir," I breathe, obeying immediately.

  He quickly finds his way between my legs, tenderly caressing the soft skin of my outer lips before he parts them.

  "You little slut," he hisses as he reaches my center. "Look how wet you are after getting your sweet little ass spanked."

  He gently spreads my folds with two fingers and lets another one slide between them to touch my virgin hole. I blush as I realize how wet I am. But his touch feels so good. I can’t help but moan desperately, leaning into him, welcoming his skillful fingers between my legs.

  He starts to massage my most sensitive spot and I throw my head back, groaning in pleasure as the sensation runs through my body like an electric shock. There’s a lot more built up than I realized before. I can feel that it won't take much for me to come, if he continues doing this.

  He withdraws his fingers from my center and places his hand on the tortured skin of my behind, causing the sweet burn of after pain that I love so much. With his other hand, he reaches around, placing it on my lower belly and slowly wandering lower across my mound until he reaches the same spot his other hand has just worked before.

  I squirm and moan beneath his touch, enjoying the sweet vertigo of arousal as he massages my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body. He suddenly lets one finger slip inside me while another continues to massage my most sensitive spot. This isn’t new. I’ve had fingers inside of me, not only my own, but none have ever been as skillful as his.

  "Oh, no, I'm gonna c—"

  "I know," he interrupts me. "And I want you to, you little slut. I want you to come on my fingers as I command you to, understand?"

  "Yesss," I sigh, dizzy as if I was drunk. "Yessir."

  He inserts another finger, now gently stretching me while he continues his incredible massage. Where did he learn to do that? No one has ever touched me this way, not even myself.

  I notice that I’m moving my body back and forth, welcoming his fingers inside me—and yearning for so much more.

  "That's a good girl for me," he breathes. "Fucking my fingers like a bitch in heat. You want to come, don't you?"

  "Yessir," I utter. "Please."

  "Come then," he orders while simultaneously increasing the pressure on my clit.

  He increases the speed of his massaging motions while fucking me with two of his fingers. It only takes two more breaths of air before I finally reach my climax. I can feel my muscles clenching around his fingers.

  I throw my head back and shriek out as my orgasm rolls over me. He quickly reaches around with his other hand—the one that had been resting on my behind—to cover my mouth with it. My ongoing screams of pleasure are suffocated by his palm, but it doesn’t take away one bit from the sheer pleasure that I’m experiencing.

  He leaves it there even after my climax has died down. Only after waiting for another few moments does he dare to take it away. I’m quiet now, but heavily gasping for air.

  "Good girl," he praises.

  He plants a little kiss on my left shoulder and withdraws his hand from my wet center.

  "Here," he says, holding it up in front of my face. "Taste yourself. Lick it clean."

  I hesitate for a moment and look up at him. He beckons me to go ahead with a little nod.

  "So?" he asks. "What are you waiting for? I'm sure you taste delicious."

  I gulp and close my eyes as I follow his command and appreciatively lick my own juices from his fingers.

  He pets the back of my head with the other hand, gently fondling my hair. "Good girl. Very good girl."

  My breathing slowly calms down and I regain composure. Recovering from an orgasm always feels like waking up after a good nap for me. I feel refreshed and relaxed—but slightly confused and disoriented.

  I straighten up and look around to him. I can't believe this just happened. Mr. Cooper, my boss, just did this to me.

  And now he’s smiling at me, once again wrapping his arms around my naked body and pulling me towards him in a close embrace.

  "You did very good," he whispers.

  "Thank you, Sir," I breathe, taking in his warmth and his scent.

  He gently caresses my back while still holding me in his warm embrace.

  And then, he asks me to leave.

  Chapter 11

  Lacey

  I said I didn't want to have a stressful last day. And I did so well. Staying late, finishing off most of my workload—and then the little horny demons that settled in my head during the last few days caused me to walk down that hallway and engage in some forbidden play with my boss.

  I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened last night.

  We didn't fuck, at least. Even though I really wanted to. I thought this was going to be the night I would lose my virginity, to the right man—at the wrong place.

  I was disappointed when he sent me home after making me come with just his fingers—and the help of a little spanking. I wonder if that was on purpose, if he had planned to do exactly what he did when I entered his office. Or if he felt regret and abruptly stopped because of that.

  We didn't speak much afterwards. He didn't say anything that would have helped me to figure out where we're at now. If it was one time
thing, one time mistake even, or if he wanted more.

  I know I do. If anything, our little intermezzo just made me want him more. He’s so freaking good with his hands, and he knows how to give a good spanking. Who knows what else he has in store.

  I take a deep breath before I enter the agency. My last day here. And the first day as the boss's dirty little secret.

  I’m early and there's almost no one around. We have a big breakfast with the entire staff on Fridays, but it’s still an hour until then. And understandably, I’m quite nervous about it this time. Everybody will gather around our biggest conference table for this and it’s usually used to discuss rather informal things that are going on at the time. Such as interns leaving the agency, so I can be sure to be the center of attention for a few minutes—and if I’m not mistaken, it might be up to Mr. Cooper to properly see me off with a little speech.

  This won't be awkward at all.

  I sneak into my office to hide away until our breakfast is supposed to start. My desk looks just like I left it the night before. Tidy and neatly organized, with the folder of my last little task placed in the middle.

  But there's a tiny box on top of it. Black, with a white ribbon. The kind that’s used for jewelry. And a little post-it note next to it.

  I pause for a moment and stare at it. There's no doubt that he’s behind it. But it could just as well be a normal goodbye gift, something that every intern receives when they leave the agency.

  It is not, though.

  I slowly reach down for the post-it note and hold it up to my face. There's not much written on it. Just two short sentences.

  "Wear this today. If you want more."

  I glance over to the little gift box. My heart is racing with joy. So he doesn’t regret what happened. And he wants more.

  I smile as I pick up the box and carefully untie the ribbon to open it. It’s a silver necklace. Delicate and discreet, with a little heart shaped pendant. It’s very small, about the size of the tip of my baby finger, and it’s lovely, so elegant and tasteful.

  I don't hesitate for even a moment before I put the necklace around my neck, and open the upper drawer of my desk to fetch a little mirror that I usually use to check on my make-up.

  It's perfect.

  The heart is neatly placed, resting in the little hollow above my breastbone. Mr. Cooper has a great eye for these things, it seems. I wonder when he got this? Does he have necklaces like this laying around in his office, hidden next to the flogger inside his closet? Or did he get it especially for me? When on earth did he do that? It’s been less than 12 hours since our play last night.

  When it’s time for me to head to our conference room for breakfast, I feel as if I’m standing taller than usual. A bright smile is gracing my face and I’m walking more upright than I usually am.

  And it doesn't go unnoticed.

  "You look happy today," my colleague Beth notices as we meet in the hallway. "I thought you'd be a bit more distraught today, this being your last day and all."

  I smile at her. "I'm just in a good mood."

  "I bet Mr. Cooper will write you an excellent reference. He always seemed very pleased,” Beth adds.

  I gulp. "Yeah, I guess so."

  And just like that, my nervousness is back. Just as we reach the conference room. Most people are there already, but Mr. Cooper’s not among them. I'm sure he must be in, though. He must have placed the necklace on my desk at some point this morning, after all.

  Mr. Cooper is the last person to show up. He’s looking as sharp as ever. Younger than his age, wearing a dark grey suit and the same shoes he wore yesterday. He probably looks the same as every day, but to me, he appears in a completely different light. And I want to imagine he looks equally bright and excited as I do.

  The chattering dies down a little, as it always does when the boss shows up. Morning greetings are exchanged—and he completely ignores me. My eyes are fixed on him, trying to catch his gaze. I want to see his reaction when he sees me.

  I want to see the flicker in his eyes when he notices me wearing the necklace.

  Chapter 12

  Erik

  People start eating and chatting away, offering coffee to each other, while I keep myself occupied with the head of the creative department.

  I barely looked at Lacey when I walked in, and I’m trying to avert my eyes now as well. I’m anxious to see whether she found my little present, and whether she decided to put it around her delicate neck.

  But I’m also afraid to check. Confidence tells me that she’s wearing it. How could she not? She practically begged me to take her last night, and I merely gave her a taste of what I have in store for her. I left her hungry and yearning for more. Or so I believe. Of course, I can’t be sure of that until I look at her and find the necklace on her.

  I can feel her eyes on me. She wants me to look at her, I know it.

  It’s custom for me to address the entire office at some point during our Friday breakfast, and when the time comes, I call for everybody's attention, still avoiding looking directly at Lacey.

  The chattering dies down and I start off with a few introductory words, before I can’t stand it any longer. When it’s time for me to address the fact that she’ll be leaving us after today, my eyes wander over to Lacey, who stands at the far end of the conference room, her sweet eyes glued on me with anticipation.

  And then I see it.

  She’s wearing the little heart pendant around her neck.

  Her eyes flicker with understanding—and joy. It’s just a split second, not noticeable to anyone else in the room. But I know what I saw.

  This is going to happen. I will fuck her, I will take her innocence and make her mine, because that’s what she wants me to do.

  "As you all know," I say, now turning towards the room as a whole again. "Today is Lacey's last day. We already had a little champagne in her honor yesterday, but protocol dictates we raise our coffee mugs to her as well—thus covering both drugs of choice that make this agency run so well."

  I’m greeted with friendly laughter. Everybody at the table reaches for their coffee mugs and demonstratively raises it. Lacey copies the gesture, visibly intimidated by all the attention that is bestowed upon her.

  "I hope your time with us was what you expected, Lacey," I continue, looking at her with my mug raised. "You did excellent work and I’m sure we won't have to worry about you out there. You have potential—you're one of the good ones."

  And with that last sentence, I wink at her, reveling in her reaction as her cheeks begin to change color.

  All eyes are on her now, waiting for her to say a few words. Lacey takes a deep breath and clears her throat.

  "Well, um, thank you," she starts. "It’s been an insightful time indeed."

  She fixates on me, before lowering her eyes. "I learned a lot—and I’m taking home a lot more… experience than I expected when I started here. Thank you."

  That’s all she finds herself capable of saying. The girl isn’t a natural speaker, but I know she has many other talents. Some of which I still have to uncover.

  The breakfast gathering comes to an end shortly after, and I use the chance to have a few words in private with Lacey. I need to know when I can see her.

  "Lacey," I call. "May I have a word with you."

  She’s busy cleaning the table and only casts me a quick glance, replying without stopping what she’s doing right now.

  "Sure, I'll just finish this," she says. “And the—"

  "No, now!" I interrupt her. My tone is needlessly aggressive, and she jumps at it like a startled deer. It’s the cutest sight.

  She looks at me with wide eyes, surprised at my tone, but her excitement is palpable. She doesn’t see a mean boss yelling at her, she sees a Dominant—and she likes it.

  I’m standing at the door, demonstratively waiting for her and watching as she hurries over to me, deliberatively walking half a step behind me as we approach my office together.


  "Why so rude?" she asks once we’ve stepped inside my office and I’ve closed the door behind us. She’s smiling at me, hiding a little sass behind her words.

  "I enjoy scaring people once in a while. You, especially. It's nice to see you reminded of your place while being surrounded by other people."

  She pouts her lips and casts me a playful frown.

  "If," I add. "If you actually chose to be in that place."

  "You mean, your submissive?" she asks.

  That’s not how I would have phrased it, but it shows that she has an idea of what this could be.

  "Well, yes. We could call it that,” I say.

  She tilts her head to the side. "We could call it that?"

  I nod and come closer to reach forward to touch the little heart pendant below her throat. Even this little touch causes her to shiver with excitement.

  "Is that what you would like to be? My submissive?" I ask in a soft voice. "You do like the necklace, it seems?"

  She smiles up at me. "Yes, Sir."

  I reduce the distance between us even more, coming so close that I can feel the warmth of her body. And her scent. She smells flowery and sweet, matching her innocent looks.

  "Yes, you like it? Or yes, you want to be my submissive?"

  "Both, Sir," she obediently replies. “It’s something I’ve been curious about for a while.”

  "I think we can arrange that," I whisper. "You know, I would like to kiss you. You look adorable today, shining brighter than ever. I wonder why that is."

  "I had an exciting evening—and a good rest," she replies, winking at me.

  She looks up at me with the same yearning she showed last night. Longing for a kiss, an embrace, my hands on her.

  "You did leave me hanging, though," she adds. "I wanted more. More of you."

  I nod and give her a faint peck on the forehead.

  "I know you did," I say. "And so did I. But I’m still your boss. What we did was risky and inappropriate enough as it is. And I don't want to confuse you."

  "Confuse me?" she asks.