Overtime

by Roxie Noir

  “Just a little too much cleavage,” Sophie had said, straightening Valerie’s dress. “Perfect.”

  Valerie had to agree. She had these boobs twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and even she couldn’t stop staring.

  When the limo came at 7:30, Valerie was ready. She’d pulled her hair back into an elegant knot, put on eyeliner and lipstick, and wore the black heels with the tiny padlocks he’d bought her that Monday. She was surprised to see a limousine instead of the car from before, but then she remembered where she was going.

  Couldn’t hurt to be a little fancier, she thought.

  The driver got out and opened the back door. Valerie took his hand and climbed in, making sure not to fall over herself or accidentally flash either him or the sidewalk, so she was seated in the car and looking for her seatbelt when she heard the voice.

  “You look stunning,” Jasper said from the other side of the back seat.

  “Oh,” Valerie said. She stared at him for a moment. He wore a three-piece black suit, a little nicer even than what he wore to the office every day. She swallowed. “You look nice, too.”

  He reached for her hand and held it in his, rubbing his thumb over the back. “Thank you for honoring my request. I know it was a bit sudden.”

  It’s not like I had a choice, Valerie thought, but she was quickly melting under the pressure of his simple touch on her. Shoppers, limos. A girl could get used to this.

  He reached for the limousine fridge and dropped ice into two glasses, then poured something from a decanter. The smoky aroma drifted over to Valerie, and she took the glass he offered her.

  “It’s been such a long week,” he said. He looked down, at her shoes, as he put his hand on her knee. “You wore them.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said.

  “I liked the locks on the back,” he said. Sitting on the seat he reached down and caressed one, turning it back and forth in his hand. He moved his hand back up her leg slowly, bringing the hem of her dress with it, exposing her ankle, then her calf, then her knee to the inside of the limousine.

  Valerie glanced at the partition between them and the driver. It was up. She sipped her whiskey, not quite sure what to do, as Jasper’s hand made its way higher. Her cunt began to buzz.

  At her knee, Jasper slipped his hand under her dress, moving between her thighs. Valerie moved her knees apart on the seat, letting him through, feeling the anticipation build, her heart beating faster. She remembered sitting on his desk, one of his hands around her wrist and one inside her, the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Valerie leaned her head against the seat and sighed.

  Jasper leaned in an brushed his lips over her shoulder, nibbling his way up to her neck as his fingertips brushed against the silk thong she’d worn, the light touch of his hand on her sex sending jolts through her body.

  She felt a sharp bite on her neck at the same time that his fingers on her cunt pressed down, and she gasped.

  “Don’t ever come in my office like that again,” he murmured into her neck.

  “Like what?”

  Her bit her again before answering.

  “Yesterday. Coming in with some work nonsense, sticking your ass in the air like a common harlot.” His fingers pulled aside her panties and stroked her lips, slick with her moisture, gently. “It’s disgusting, and it’s beneath you to offer yourself like that.”

  Valerie made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He laughed softly, his breath tickling her. “And don’t get too excited and ruin this nice dress.”

  “I’ll try,” Valerie said, barely able to form the words.

  His fingers slid between her folds and found her clit, tripping back and forth over it, every touch sending Valerie closer to the edge. She moved her hips and arched her back, trying to keep his fingers focused on that one spot but every time she tried he danced them away, backing her down from the orgasm as Valerie’s frustration mounted. She was so close to that release, she thought, so aroused and ready that all it would take was one more simple touch and she would explode, right there in the car—

  The limousine stopped and she heard the driver’s door open. Jasper withdrew his hand.

  “Here we are,” he said. He reached for a linen napkin on the bar and wiped his long, graceful fingers. Valerie stared in disbelief, breathing hard. She couldn’t think about anything but how badly she needed to come, right now, right here in the back of this car.

  “You should be decent when my man opens the door,” Jasper said.

  Valerie blushed and pulled her gown back down. She touched her hair, hoping she hadn’t gotten too messed up, and hoped that there wasn’t a wet spot on the back of her dress. The driver opened her door and she took his hand, swaying gracefully to her feet, and then let Jasper escort her through the Plaza’s enormous doors, opened by white-gloved doormen.

  As she strode in the room, Valerie had a thought.

  “What if someone from work is here?” she whispered to Jasper.

  He looked down at her, towering over her even in her heels, and smiled.

  “Who from work do you think can afford it?” he asked.

  “Your partners?”

  “Don’t worry about them,” he said.

  They were seated at a window table, overlooking Central Park and the city lay before them, sparkling. Valerie’s cunt still pulsed as the blood receded, something she was painfully aware of. Without asking Valerie, Jasper ordered a bottle of champagne and oysters on the half-shell as she looked at the array of silverware before her, and hoped she’d use the right fork.

  Outside in, she reminded herself. Outside in, and just watch what he does.

  He ordered for her all night: another bottle of champagne, lobster bisque to start and then an exquisite sea bass dish as an entree. As they ate he told her stories about New York in the 1980s when everything had been shittier, stories about the time he did so much cocaine he thought his heart might stop, about meeting shady dealers in alleyways outside the after-hours clubs, about getting held up at 4 o’clock in the morning and laughing in the guy’s face because he’d spent all his cash on drugs already.

  “That’s all a very long time ago, of course,” he said before ordering them the Black Forest cake for dessert. “A young man should never have as much access to money as I did.”

  “You seem all right now,” Valerie said.

  “I was a late bloomer.”

  She twisted the stem of her champagne glass back and forth in her fingers as the waiter set the cake on the table between them. She was getting more and more nervous with every course, and this was the final one before whatever was going to come next.

  As she reached for her dessert fork, Jasper plunged his into a corner of the cake and drew it out, moist and rich.

  “Lean forward,” he said, holding the forkful of cake aloft.

  Valerie did, parting her lips, aware that he could look right down her dress if he wanted to. She didn’t mind. He watched the cake disappear between her lips with an intensity that made her nervous, as his gaze slid from her lips to her bosom, then finally up to her face.

  “Delicious,” she said.

  He took a forkful himself. “It’s missing something,” he said, taking another forkful and holding it out for her. Valerie chewed it slowly, dabbing at her lips with her napkin.

  He took another bite. “Normally,” he said, “I don’t begin sexual relationships with my subordinates.” Slowly, he cut into the cake with his fork and held it out to Valerie, who ate it obediently, waiting for the but.

  “But,” he went on, cutting into the cake but looking into Valerie’s eyes, “I don’t seem able to control myself around you.”

  Valerie thought of the previous afternoon, of her bending over the desk when he had turned her down resolutely. He didn’t seem like a man who couldn’t control himself. She waited.

  “I have strong preferences,” Jasper went on. “And I find it best to lay them out, in a public place where, no matte
r how badly I may want to, I cannot simply strip you naked and have my way with you.”

  Valerie blushed. Jasper fed her another piece of cake, and she saw the predator look on his face again, the same look he’d had last Friday, alone in his office, before ordering her onto his desk.

  “I can be a control freak,” he began.

  “Yes,” Valerie agreed.

  Jasper smiled a little. “I know I have a reputation at the office.” He ate a piece of cake. “But I also demand complete control in my relationships. If this goes on, I’ll set up every encounter, run every date, tell you what to do every step of the way.”

  Valerie swallowed. “Like today?” she asked.

  “Something like today,” he said.

  She thought of the grip he’d had on her wrist when he fingered her last Friday, the way she hadn’t been able to move at all.

  “And in the bedroom?” she said quietly.

  Jasper paused, looking at the last bite of cake balanced on the fork. Valerie leaned forward, lips parted, but he hesitated.

  She ran her tongue along her top lip, and he moved the fork forward, watching her intensely as she chewed and swallowed, then set the fork on the plate.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of reserving a room,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “It might be best to simply show you what I prefer in the bedroom.”

  Valerie’s heart pounded, and her cunt leapt to attention, remembering her need for release all over again. Her nervousness about the meal had distracted her from how horny she was, but now that it was over, she wanted him even more. Her mouth went dry and she felt herself flush. She could feel his eyes on her, all over her body, and she used her napkin to dab gently at the corner of her mouth.

  “Let me freshen up,” she said.

  Jasper nodded, and Valerie took her clutch into the bathroom. She peed, adjusted her bra, which was more like a corset: it came all the way down to her hips, cinched in her waist and pushed her breasts up and out. She wore a matching thong. In the mirror she reapplied her red lipstick and double-checked that her eye makeup hadn’t run. She wasn’t sure why her boss, who was apparently rich as Hades and could probably have had nearly any woman in Manhattan, had picked her, but he had.

  He stood as she approached the table, and together, they walked to the elevator and took it to the top floor, Valerie’s heart beating a hard rhythm in her chest the entire time.

  The room was huge and lushly appointed: satin sheets and duvet on a wrought iron bed frame, marble-topped tables with ornate plush chairs, a dark fainting couch in one corner. There was another room Valerie couldn’t see into, but the bathroom looked like it was all marble and gold plating. She had no idea at all what it must have cost. Some amount beyond her imagining.

  Jasper swung the door shut and then escorted her to the window, flinging the curtains wide, giving them a view of Central Park and beyond that, the rest of Manhattan. He stood behind her and she felt his lips on the back of her neck, sending goosebumps down her spine.

  Slowly, he began to unzip her dress, the curtains still open. Valerie reached for the blinds but he put his hand around her wrist, led it back to hang at her side.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “But—“

  “Tonight, trust me,” he said. “If this isn’t going to work for you, you can leave and we’ll never talk about this again.”

  Valerie’s dress fell to around her ankles and she stood in front of the window in her bra, thong, and high heels, lit up and visible to all of Central Park.

  “If something gets too intense for you, the safe word is hippopotamus,” Jasper said. He put one hand on her hip and reached into her bra from over her shoulder, fondling first one nipple and then the other, and Valerie melted backward into him.

  “Hippopotamus?” she whispered.

  “It’s a little silly,” he admitted. He put a finger in the waistband of her thong, pulled it, and let it go, snapping it against her soft flesh with a tiny sting. “But I promise it’s not something you’ll shout in a moment of passion.”

  Valerie nodded. She heard a silky swish behind her and then there was a black ribbon floating in front of her eyes, then it was binding her eyes shut. She swallowed but said nothing.

  “Trust me,” he whispered, and she felt it tighten as he tied it behind her head. Valerie’s heart hammered.

  “Step out of your dress,” he said. He took her left hand in his, steadying her, as she carefully stepped forward, careful not to trip. “Now, take two more steps, and stop with your hands on the marble table.”

  She did. The tabletop was cool under her touch. She couldn’t see a thing outside her blindfold, and she strained her ears to hear what he was doing, but no luck.

  “Bend over it,” he said.

  Valerie bent over slowly, not wanting to topple over in her heels, until her entire torso was in contact with the cold stone, chilly against her hot flesh. She felt his hand on the back of her head gently press her face against the stone, turned to the side, still blindfolded.

  So he’s just going to fuck me over a table? Valerie thought. Her cunt was still covered by the thong, but just barely, thrust outward, ready for him to do anything. Still, she was a little disappointed: it seemed like a lot of talk and a lot of warnings for just being fucked on a table.

  Then, a sharp blow hit her right on the ass, and Valerie yelped. She hadn’t been expecting it and it stung at first, then after a few seconds, the whole area buzzed as though the nerve endings were crackling to the surface. A few seconds later, there was another sharp blow on the other ass cheek and Valerie yelped again, both sides now alternately stinging and buzzing.

  He was spanking her, she realized. His hand hit her on the left cheek again, and then the right, and now, even through the stinging, buzzing pain, she thought she could almost feel the outline of his hand, imprinted on her. She could feel that her backside was bright red and probably a little swollen.

  He struck again, this time close to the crease between her ass and thigh, and she could feel the flesh wobble as he did. He was millimeters from her cunt and the crackling feeling was beginning to spark through there and she felt herself opening, her juices beginning to flow. His hand his the other cheek in the same place, this time just brushing her cunt, the combination of pleasure and pain something she’d never experienced before.

  “Oh! Oooooh,” she said, her yelps turning into moans.

  Another blow landed, this time on a place he’d already hit, the blow feeling cushioned by the slight numbness there, the stinging pain somehow landing deeper. Her hips lurched into the marble, the points digging through her flesh to find the hardness.

  Another blow, on the other cheek, the same deeper pain, the same hips digging into the marble. Valerie began to think that her knees might give out and she was trembling all over, both with the power of the blows, with her nervousness, and with the frightening discovery that she liked this.

  She really liked this.

  Valerie re-anchored her feet, taking tiny steps to stay upright, preparing herself for another delicious onslaught, arching her back and sticking out her ass to say, I can take it.

  There it was, another open-handed slap on her left cheek, fingertips brushing her cunt, and Valerie moaned, prepared for the next one. Instead, she felt on finger begin at her low back and trace the line of her thong, make its way down her crack, right over her asshole, between her lips and to her clit.

  “Oh, Mr. Declan,” she said, unable to control the sounds she made.

  In response there was another slap to her right ass cheek, stinging and burning and buzzing, and then the slow finger down her ass crack again. She sighed.

  “You take a spanking like a very good girl,” he said, fingertip resting on her clit.

  “Spank me more,” she breathed.

  “I’ll spank you as much as I like,” he said, a low note of ferocity and hunger in his voice, and then he landed two more blows on her ass, the hardest o
nes yet, hard enough to push her soft upper thighs into the table and move her off balance, her weight no longer on her feet but now entirely on the table. Her cunt pulsed and, even though nothing was touching her, Valerie felt as though she might come on the next blow, from the sheer force of her arousal.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, lips parted, unable to get her feet back underneath her.

  Then, he walked away. Valerie replayed the last few minutes in her head and realized that she’d never heard him close the blinds: everything he was doing to her would be displayed for anyone down in Central Park to see, especially since it was night and the lights were on the hotel room. A shudder of apprehension ran through her, but it was also a shudder of pleasure: all those people, looking at her.

  Jasper returned, standing just behind her but not quite close enough to touch. He took her right wrist in his hands, gently but very firmly, and closed something around it, something flexible but immovable, soft on the inside but unyielding. He closed another around her left wrist and then, with a click, locked her wrists together.

  She was handcuffed, she thought to herself, as she tried to move her hands apart but heard only clinking. She lay on the marble-top table, her feet barely on the floor, gasping, trying to process what was happening. Another chain brushed against the back of her legs and she realized it was hanging from her handcuffs, and briefly, she wondered what it was for.

  Well, for one, she was more aroused than she’d been in her life. Her thong was soaked through, she knew, and though the skin on her ass and thighs was numb, she thought her juices might be running down the inside of her thighs, a veritable waterfall in testament to her readiness.

  Jasper pulled on her handcuffs, pulling her shoulders back, encouraging her torso off the table. Valerie scrambled to get her feet back under herself and then stood, a little wobbly since she couldn’t see and couldn’t catch herself with her hand bound behind her. In small, mincing steps, Jasper holding onto her elbow, she moved about five feet into the room, and then he let her go.