Overtime

by Roxie Noir

  At least, she felt the hot splash on her ass and thighs. The vibrator shut off. The dildo pulled out, though the plug stayed. Valerie breathed deep and then sighed, as Jasper zipped his pants and undid her handcuffs.

  Slowly, she sat up, the plug making it a little awkward. She could feel it shift inside her as she rubbed her wrists, feeling a little bruised.

  “How are you feeling?” Jasper asked.

  Valerie just nodded.

  “You look like you need a minute,” he said.

  She nodded again. He reached out one hand and stroked her face, gently.

  “Use the robe hanging over there. Take all the time you need,” he said, and then walked back into the room with the white leather couches.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Valerie took a long, long bath. The room’s bathroom had a tub with whirlpool jets and so she turned them on and let them relax her, even though she still had the plug in.

  She needed to think about what she wanted. Because of the way they were — the age difference, the vast wealth disparity, the fact that he was her boss — she didn’t feel like she should want more than sex from him. The problem was, Valerie thought that maybe she did — the sex was thrilling, that was for sure, but she also liked the time they spent together outside it, liked the gentle way he touched her when she wasn’t being flogged.

  He’d taken her shirt off when she asked. That was something, wasn’t it?

  When the water began to cool off she got out, showered quickly, dried off, and put on the bathrobe. It felt like it was made from angel wings, it was so soft and warm. There were slippers, too, and she put them on and went into the other room.

  Jasper sat on a couch in front of the fire, reading a book.

  “What are you reading?” she asked, sitting on the couch next to him, though they didn’t touch.

  He turned the cover to her: The Art of War.

  She raised one eyebrow. “What for?” she asked.

  Jasper sighed and put it down on the coffee table. “One of our board members swears by it,” he said, clasping his hands behind his head and leaning back. “He keeps telling me that business is war, and there’s nothing better for thinking of tactics.”

  Valerie’s eyes flicked from him to the book on the table, and then back. “Okay,” she said doubtfully.

  “You don’t seem impressed.”

  “I’m skeptical.”

  “I think he’s an idiot,” said Jasper. “He has an MBA from Yale and I don’t even have a BA, so he thinks his word is gold, like he’s some sort of business god and here I am, a mere peon, who’s only taken an ad agency and nearly quadrupled it in twenty years.”

  “You don’t have a BA?”

  Jasper’s lips thinned a little and his eyes flicked to the fire. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s not a secret, exactly, but I don’t go around telling people. I got my first job because my father was partner at Declan and Soames, so I had to prove myself that way.”

  Valerie was quiet for a moment. “I thought you were a rich kid,” she said.

  “I was, until my father cut me off in my late twenties,” he said. “I had to beg for a year for an assistant job at the agency. By the time he died, he left me his fortune, but I liked working too much to stop.”

  Valerie stood, poured herself a little more brandy out of the bottle. It seemed that the time after sex was the time they had that was normal, not so charged with submissive-and-dominant roles. She liked it this way too, she thought.

  “So you don’t have to work.”

  “I could quit tomorrow and yacht around the world until I die,” Jasper said. “The work is rewarding. It makes me feel like I contribute something.”

  “So much that you sleep at the office sometimes?”

  Jasper smiled thinly. “Get me another glass, will you?”

  Valerie pulled another snifter from the bottom of the car cart, poured the liquid into it. “Am I doing it right?” she said, half-teasing.

  “Any way a pretty girl pours liquor is right,” he said.

  Valerie blushed for the first time that night.

  “Working too much is just something in my blood,” he went on, answering her earlier question. “I don’t know why I do it, but I do. I like doing it.”

  She sat on the couch, next to him, warm in front of the fire and in the fluffy robe. The plug in her ass was still there, shifting subtly, reminding her of her place.

  “If I had yacht-around-the-world money, I wouldn’t be working,” she said. She had the vague notion that one shouldn’t tell that to one’s boss, but right now she didn’t feel like he was her boss, just her lover.

  Now that was a strange thought.

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t blame you,” he said. “I’m probably broken somehow. Who sleeps in their office when they have a down-filled mattress and a personal chef?”

  “A crazy person,” Valerie agreed.

  They both emptied their glasses of the deep gold liquid, looking into the fire.

  “I’d like you to come to the retreat next weekend,” he said, out of nowhere.

  Valerie frowned. “I thought assistants didn’t go.”

  “They don’t, usually,” he said. “But you’re particularly competent, resourceful, and—“ he leaned over and kissed her neck, something in his manner shifting, “—it’s a beautiful place and I’d like you to see it.”

  A shiver went down Valerie’s spine, and she wondered what was waiting for her at the mansion in the Hamptons.

  “People will know,” she said.

  “They won’t,” Jasper said. “They’ll think you’re there to give the caterers instructions once the board members get too drunk to do more than yell. After last year’s disaster, they’ll be glad to have an assistant around, someone who can take care of things.”

  She looked into the fire, took a sip of her brandy. Valerie had never been to the Hamptons, and had really only heard about it on TV or from friends who knew other, richer people.

  “All right,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, and then changed the subject. “You’re more than welcome to stay the night here,” he went on. “I’ve got an old man’s back and I prefer to sleep in my own bed, but someone should enjoy this.”

  Was she disappointed? Valerie wasn’t completely sure. Half of her had hoped he’d stay with her — maybe that they’d sleep together, in the same bed — but the other half was excited to be here alone, to turn the big TVs onto loud movies, order room service, drink champagne, hang out naked in this hotel room that probably cost half her rent.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Use anything,” he said. “Room service, the minibar. There’s a spa downstairs. They’ll charge it to my account.”

  Valerie nodded and curled one leg under her. The plug shifted, just a little.

  After Jasper left with a strangely chaste kiss to her forehead, Valerie did all those things: she watched HBO on the giant TV in the bedroom after ordering chocolates and red wine from room service. She took a tiny bottle of whiskey from the minibar, just because she could. She stood in the balcony in her short, fluffy robe, marveling at the view of New York and of Central Park after nightfall. Finally, she turned off the fireplace, the TV, and went to sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Monday morning, she got into the office at 8:55 to an email from Jasper.

  Please come see me when you arrive, it read.

  She went through his partially opened office door and stood there, strange emotions swirling in her: the forehead kiss he’d given her Saturday night, combined with the flogging he’d given her that evening, the savage and wonderful way he’d fucked her, on the bed, until she absolutely couldn’t come any more.

  The plug in her ass that shifted, just a little, whenever she walked or sat or, really, did anything.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Declan?” she asked, peeking through his partly-open door.

  “Come in, Valerie,” he said. “Close the door.”

&
nbsp; Right away her heart hammered and her cunt shifted into overdrive. She closed the door softly, trying not to bring too much attention to it, and walked toward his desk.

  He smiled, sitting up straight in his suit, a pen in one hand.

  “You know what to do,” he said.

  Valerie walked around the desk, the ritual familiar now: stand a foot away from him and bend over. She felt the hand sliding up her thigh, shifting her skirt over her hips, to her waist, the fingers skating across the top of her stockings and up to her wet slit.

  As always, he just barely brushed her, breathing her scent in deeply. This time, he tapped one finger, gently, on the plug in her ass, the feeling sending vibrations through her entire body.

  Valerie didn’t make a noise. She’d learned that.

  “Good girl,” he said. He snapped one garter against her thigh, her signal that it was time to hike her skirt back down. “I see you’ve still got it in.”

  “Just like you told me,” she said, pulling her skirt down, smoothing it out.

  “It looks beautiful. I can hardly wait,” he said.

  Wait for what? She wondered.

  Then she thought, Maybe this weekend he’ll actually fuck me. Even if it’s in my ass, I want it.

  Valerie swallowed.

  Then Jasper sighed and looked at his computer. “I should tell you that I have a very busy week ahead,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to have time for many extracurricular activities, so please consult with me before planning any lunches or dinners. We’ll leave for the retreat with the car service early Friday morning.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll have the car come get you. Don’t tell the others you’re receiving special treatment.”

  Valerie nodded. “Anything else, Mr. Declan?”

  “That’s all,” he said. “Please try to get me the final of the Annual Report by lunchtime tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” she said, and then left.

  She’d caught the coded message in what he said: no time for the affair this week. It was to be expected, of course; she’d heard that the week before the retreat was always so crazy, no one even had time to eat lunch.

  It didn’t stop her from being disappointed.

  She sat at her office chair, plug in her ass shifting a little, as always, and began proofing the endless Annual Report.

  Chapter Twenty

  That week, Valerie at least still got her morning ritual with Jasper: come into his office, bend over, let him run his fingers up her legs and thighs, brushing her pussy lips and butt plug, before he inevitably let her go, sighed, and turned his talk back to business.

  Valerie found herself looking forward to those moments more and more with every day that nothing came to fruition: the knowledge that, though nothing else might happen, he’d touch her just a little bit, make sure she was following his rules.

  Thursday, she got in at seven in the morning. She’d left her apartment at six-fifteen, pretty much the earliest she possibly could. She was dressed neatly but not well: a blouse, a skirt, shoes, no panties. She hadn’t had time to put stockings on that morning.

  Jasper was already there when he arrived, talking quietly to a few people in the art department. Everyone had circles under their eyes and nodded as he spoke. They all looked nervous and even a little cowed to see him, there, in their department, speaking to them so intently.

  Valerie sat and focused on her work: arguing with caterers over the wine for Saturday’s dinner party; debating flower arrangements with the florist. Usually her work wasn’t so, well, assistant-y. Normally she got to do more copywriting, more advertising stuff, more proofreading and looking at art and photos, but the week before the retreat was notorious.

  Finally Jasper walked back through, past Valerie’s desk, and she lifted her eyes to his.

  “My office, please,” he said. He didn’t even look down at her.

  Just like always, those words turned her on. She stepped in and closed the door, folded her hands in front of her, waited. She knew the ritual well by now.

  “Come over here,” he said, still standing behind his desk.

  This was a little odd; usually he sat before the underwear check. Valerie obeyed anyway, coming to stand in her usual spot.

  “Bend over the desk,” he said.

  That was new, too. She obeyed, placing both hands flat-down, her breasts, her belly, one cheek. Jasper took something out of his briefcase and held it in his hand. She couldn’t see it well, and he moved behind her.

  Hands sliding up her thighs, like always. She waited for his touch on her lips and then the end of the plug, and there they were: sliding up and down her slit, the faintest of caresses on her clit, and then a few quick taps on the plug.

  Then, he took it in two fingers and twisted it. It was a strange, subtle sensation, and Valerie made a tiny gasp, just barely loud enough for Jasper to hear. Then he pulled it out.

  Even though she did it every day — as necessity dictated — it felt so odd and empty.

  “You’ve graduated,” he said, and over her shoulder she watched him take an antibacterial wipe, lay it on a side table, and gently place the metal plug on it.

  “To what?” she asked. She knew now that she was allowed to ask questions; he seemed to like being the older, experienced master, ready to tell the wide-eyed girl everything she needed to know about the new world she was entering.

  “A larger plug,” he said, calmly, and then she felt the cold metal poking at her back entrance, yet again.

  Valerie tried to relax. It’s nothing, she told herself. Just a little size up. He’s preparing you for... something. Himself, maybe.

  She bit her lower lip and said nothing as he gradually slid the lubricated metal plug into her, stretching her further than he had before, this plug considerably bigger and wider. Before long her breath was coming in short little gasps, fogging the cool surface of his desk a little before the fog faded.

  Valerie tried to relax but squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to take the whole thing in. Once it was in, it would feel so good, she knew, she only had to bear this part for now.

  And then suddenly, the flared part was in, the base nestled against the outside of her asshole, the wide plug filling her more than the old one had. She exhaled long and hard, slumping a little and closing her eyes. Behind her, she could see Jasper wiping down the old one with the antibacterial wipe, then getting out a new wipe and cleaning his hands thoroughly.

  At least he’s strict about that too, she thought. He put the old plug away and came back to her, still prone on the desk, caressing her inner thigh, working his hand up to her cunt and back down, just teasing her. He brushed the tip of the plug just a little with his thumb, making Valerie squirm and sigh, beginning to hope for some sort of release that morning.

  He bent down to whisper in her ear. “I could have you right here on my desk,” he said. His breath tickled and sent shivers up and down Valerie. One finger stroked her cunt, yet again. “I could take you with all your coworkers just on the other side of that door, none the wiser.”

  A very small moan escaped Valerie’s lips, and his hand squeezed her ass. “I ought to do it,” he went on, his voice still a whisper. “You’re so luscious, like this, bent over and open—“

  His phone rang. Jasper cursed under his breath and craned his neck to look at the called ID.

  “I have to take it,” he said. “I’m sorry. You can leave.”

  Valerie pushed herself back to her feet, the new plug adjusting itself in her ass, her back hole wider than usual. She pushed her skirt down and straightened her blouse, trying to act like she wasn’t disappointed, or like her legs weren’t weak with lust.

  For a moment, one beautiful, shining moment, she’d thought they were going to fuck right there.

  “Declan speaking,” he said behind her.

  As she walked out, every step made the plug move, setting off new nerve endings, turning her on all over again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

&nbs
p; The next morning, Valerie stood on the curb outside her little apartment at 6:55, waiting for the 7am car that was supposed to take her to the Hamptons. Ten minutes ago, Jasper had called. He had supposed to be in the car that was taking her, but something had come up, he’d said, and so now she was going alone.

  She’d been unable to decide what to pack. She still didn’t really know why she was going: she wanted to think it was as Jasper’s secret mistress, or at least partly because of that, but from the trouble that planning this event had been giving her, she thought it might honestly be so that there would be someone to take care of things, so she packed stockings and the corset and garter belts, but also pants and practical skirts and low-heeled shoes.

  That was why she had such a big suitcase.

  The car drove up, the driver put her suitcase in the trunk and then they were off, the drive lulling Valerie to sleep before they’d even gotten out of Brooklyn. She’d been working too late and not sleeping well enough. She didn’t wake up until the car stopped and then she woke with a jolt, totally disoriented for a moment, looking out the tinted window and seeing a mansion, far away, then trees and the ocean right beyond. The door opened and the driver offered her his hand, and only then did she remember.

  Jasper’s house was enormous: three stories, it looked like, painted a butter-yellow and decorated like a birthday cake with columns and columns, fancy little details and curlicues picked out in white. The car sat in a round drive surrounded by shrubbery and with a fountain in the middle.

  Valerie immediately felt poor. You’re the help, she reminded herself.

  Inside, a man — a servant? Did people still have those? — showed her to her room. It wasn’t enormous, but it was bigger than her whole apartment, had its own lavish bathroom, outfitted entirely in marble, and a sumptuous king bed with a canopy. Valerie thanked the man who had shown her up and then stood, looking out one enormous window at the ocean, wondering where she was and how she’d gotten there.