She had wondered if he was forwarding C’s emails, but he had done it before with people he’d dated so she’d guessed he probably was. The look on his face as he tried to cover up the email she’d sent him was priceless. I have a little bit of a sadist in me, it seems. Or maybe just a bit of a brat.
She wondered if the very explicit description she’d written of a blowjob had aroused him. He hadn’t emailed back. Maybe he didn’t want to have anything to do with C anymore. Or maybe he was just swamped with work.
In the end, she chose a white blouse with a high collar, and a royal blue suit with a skirt that went below her knees. But she was still going to have at least some fun with it. The power between them had shifted. She knew now that he was affected by what she did. She still didn’t know how she could use that to get what she wanted, because anything could backfire, but she still felt emboldened.
She was at her desk waiting when he got in. He was, as usual, sharply dressed in crisp, pressed clothes, but she could tell that the weekend had not been kind to him. He looked older. She suspected he hadn’t been sleeping much.
He nodded at her on the way to his office and kept going.
She went down the elevator to where there was an independent coffee shop, and bought two scones, a fruit bowl, and a cappuccino with the company credit card. She brought them back up and went into his office. She would ordinarily have knocked, but her hands were full.
“Good morning, Sir,” she said, finding an empty space on the desk to arrange everything in front of him.
“You’re a lifesaver, Carrie. Thank you.”
His gratitude warmed his heart. She almost forgot her next move, as she started to back away. But not quite. “Are my clothes acceptable today, Sir?”
He looked over at her, his eyes sweeping her from head to toe, exactly as she’d intended. “Yes.” He looked conflicted.
“I’ll look over my contract again, to make sure I follow what I agreed to.” She knew perfectly well there was nothing about dress in the contract she’d signed. She turned to go.
“Miss Keller.”
She looked back. “Hmm?”
“I apologize for telling you what to wear the other day. You are entitled to dress as you please. My issues are my own, and I will keep them to myself from now on.”
“Really? Because that bordered on sexual harassment.”
“I’m very sorry,” Blake said.
Yes, the power had definitely shifted. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. “Why?”
He looked confused.
“Let’s get some work done,” she said and returned to her desk.
He was right, after all. He didn’t need to be distracted right now. They worked late into the night and did it again the next day, side by side. She was reminded of how good a team they had been at Quinn. She knew what he needed and made sure he ate healthy meals on time even when he wanted to work through. He kept her busy, delegating everything he could so he could focus on the more technical work. And in the end, they got a complete report to the client.
He told her to take Wednesday off, so she did, although she found she missed him.
On Thursday she wore a chemise over a push-up bra, a jacket, a short black skirt, and three-inch heels. She picked up a fruit bowl and coffee on the way in and rode the elevator up to deliver them.
She bent over his desk and placed them in front of him, watching his eyes wander to his chest and then dart away.
So proper, Sir. But I know what you like.
She straightened. “Are my clothes acceptable today, Sir?” she asked.
“Dammit, Carrie.”
She chuckled and walked back to her desk. Thirty minutes later, she sent a note from her phone.
“Would you like to see me this weekend, Sir? C.”
“Yes. 9 p.m. Friday, Iron Butterfly.” Blake felt bad about it the moment he sent it. It was wrong to use the woman as a stand-in for Carrie, just as it would be wrong to take advantage of his employee. There was something different about Carrie, though. She was spunkier, more assertive. As a result, she’d become an even better employee. But she’d also become more of a pain in the ass, and he wanted to bend her over his knee and spank her. She had deliberately taunted him with her body, and yet her comment about sexual harassment was loud in his head as well. Who is harassing whom, exactly?
Thursday passed and Friday came. Carrie dressed a little more demurely, but not a lot, and the extreme flirtatious behavior seemed to have ended the moment he’d accepted C’s offer. Possibly I’m just imagining it, and as soon as I’ve let myself have an outlet, I don’t think every time she bends over it’s for my benefit. The work got done, and both Carrie and he headed out the door promptly at five.
He mused about the mask over dinner at Sharkey’s. He wanted to know what made C tick, but the mask made it difficult to imagine sitting her down at dinner for a quiet, low-key talk. C wanted to keep everything in scene, anyway. I should honor that. But sooner or later, if I don’t know the real person, something is bound to go wrong.
He shrugged and enjoyed a forkful of thin prime rib that nearly melted in his mouth. When it does, it does. Carrie he wanted in his life. C could come or go, as she pleased. Better to have a few hot, unrestrained times that would end when the envelope was pushed too far than to settle for boring vanilla mediocrity. Today he was going to push C and test her ability to withstand pain and give pleasure. She hadn’t asked him to go easy on her, and he wasn’t going to.
His phone rang just as he was leaving to go home. He wanted to ignore it, but it was Longdale. He answered, leaning against his car while he talked to the upset executive. He had a number of suggestions for how Longdale could get his company back in financial order, although of course it would be weakened, but it took him nearly fifteen minutes to get the man calm enough to listen to any of them. First came denial, then anger, then denial again. Finally the man was willing to listen to reason, but by that time, Blake was running late.
He forced himself not to drive at excessive speeds, knowing he was distracted. He liked to be on time but being late wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He wasn’t going to sort out his feelings for Carrie tonight, so he tried only half-successfully to push them away. C was not a stand-in. She was her own person, and despite her offer, he’d have to see her that way. Getting off was one thing but he had to be able to look himself in the mirror.
It was twenty minutes after when he finally charged up the steps at Iron Butterfly. The big bouncer at the door delayed him for several more while he checked on the bona fides of a couple of women who’d come together. Blake wasn’t surprised not to be waved through. He’d just gotten his membership, after that first time as Meg’s guest, and wasn’t well-known yet, but it was still frustrating. C would be waiting and no doubt wondering where he was. He liked playing with uncertainty but only when it was under his control.
Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn’t see her immediately, so he looked around the living room before heading back. There was a glass window that looked down over the racquetball court, which was the place people were second most likely to be. If she’d found someone else to play with, he’d know from a distance without a messy confrontation. He had no claim on her, other than for the evening, and he knew that.
She was standing alone in front of that window, watching the scenes from above right where he’d intended to position himself. She wore a short black skirt, seamed stockings, and high shiny black pumps. A diaphanous white shirt did little to conceal the black straps of a bra across her back and shoulders. The slutty secretary look? He took a breath. She’s C. Don’t displace.
He walked quietly up behind her and reached around her waist with both hands. She tried to pull away. “Shh. It’s me. Let me.”
He felt her body relax in his arms.
He brushed her blonde tresses away to kiss the back of her neck. He wasn’t surprised to see wisps of dark brown, nearly black hair beneath. He�
�d figured out that the blonde was a wig.
She sighed.
Pushing her forward, he pinned her up against the glass. He slid his hand lower and pulled up the short skirt she was wearing. The lace of her panties was already damp with her moisture. He pushed then aside and thrust his fingers inside her.
“I…you,” she said.
He wasn’t sure what she was trying to convey, but the important thing was that he’d already gotten to her enough so that she couldn’t form a complete sentence. He’d noticed C wasn’t much of a talker, anyway.
Her pussy was soft and wet, and his fingers were quickly coated with her juices. She panted for breath as he fingered her.
“Consider this my apology for being late,” he said.
“Apology accepted, Sir,” she said breathlessly.
He grabbed the collar of her shirt and jerked her back against his body. His cock was growing hard. “Don’t turn around to look,” he warned. “Or the apology will stop.”
She nodded, giving him no resistance. He unbuttoned her blouse. Away from the glass, he could see a ghost of a reflection, and he imagined she could do the same. He cupped her breast as he slid his fingers out of her, running along her slick pussy lips until he found her clit. She moaned at his touch.
“Do you value your modesty, C?” he asked.
She hesitated before shaking her head. “No, Sir. It is yours.”
He lifted her blouse so that he could get at the clasp of her bra. It wasn’t easy to undo with one hand, but he had no intention of stopping rubbing C’s sensitive pearl, not as long as she was panting like that at each little circle he traced around it. He managed at last to get it loose, however. He lifted it from her breasts and allowed himself the pleasure of an extended fondle.
He listened to her breathing. She was getting close, and unless he missed his guess, she was fighting her orgasm. He hadn’t planned this scene, but he knew how he wanted it to go. He pushed her forward against the glass, flattening her lovely tits against the cold surface. She gasped in shock, as he’d intended, but she didn’t turn her head, instead planting a kiss on the window, obeying his orders not to turn. Good girl. He thrust his fingers inside her again, finding her G-spot and stroking it. The moment of surprise was when she was at her most vulnerable.
He was rewarded by a muffled cry and then a rolling series of spasms in her pussy that squeezed and tugged at his fingers. Pressing up against her from behind, it felt like she was no longer holding up her own weight, but he had her supported in any case. Something about her made him feel she could give more, and he kept fingering and probing her pussy. If anyone was looking up, they were getting quite a view, but he couldn’t be bothered to look when such an exquisite creature held all his attention.
A second wave coursed through her pussy. A surge of wetness flooded his hand and soaked her panties. “Good girl. Come for me.” He nipped at her neck again as the last shudders shook her. His cock was rock hard now and aching, but it didn’t matter. He could have his pleasure any time. Hers had been waiting for him to come along to unleash it.
Silly thought. She’s probably perfectly capable of finding anyone to satisfy her. But right then he felt an irrational confidence that he could do it best.
Chapter Five
Carrie didn’t think she would have come if it had not been for the fact she could feel Blake’s hard cock against her ass the entire time. The cock she’d fantasized about for two years. She was turning him on, although there was no way he was getting as much pleasure as she was.
She had wondered at him being late. He was almost always within a few minutes of being on time, and she hadn’t recalled the roads as particularly crowded. She had found an out-of-the-way spot to park where hopefully no one would see her car. Then she’d watched the play below for a while and had considered going home eventually if she had to give up. She didn’t feel like playing with others, even if they could give her the pain that would shut up her worries about how to handle Blake. When that became the worry in her life, she didn’t know, but she did know that it was better than the ghosts that usually haunted her.
“Sir,” she said, softly.
“What, C?”
“May I turn around and pleasure you? I won’t look above your waist, if you don’t wish.” She had his every feature memorized anyway. And even with all the precautions she took, it was hard to look him in the eye and not feel that he might see through her disguise.
“Not yet,” he told her. “Take your clothes off properly first.” His grip on her loosened.
She looked down at the racquetball court. Most of its denizens were engaged in the play downstairs or were watching the play. A waxing table had been set up and Hart Wolfe was carving a beautiful violet rose out of the wax he had dripped on Vanessa’s body. A flogging was going on in one corner. In another, a woman was being double-teamed on a spanking bench, her bottom red but no longer being spanked as two Doms had taken up position at each end, one fucking her as she sucked on the other. Meg’s not the only lucky girl around here. She’d enjoyed a threesome once, and the sensual overload had been lovely, but it was no longer the sort of thing she needed. Not if she had Blake, one-on-one.
She shrugged her blouse from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. She couldn’t put it away neatly anywhere without turning around. Her bra joined it a moment later. As she did so, a few people looked up and watched. They were probably watching before, too, or they wouldn’t be so curious. She thought maybe she’d made some noise against the glass when he was finger fucking her, but she couldn’t be sure how it carried down below. Regardless, people were watching.
She’d hoped to have another invitation to his place. Iron Butterfly had gotten more dangerous with Meg around as well as Blake. But he had chosen the spot, and he was taking the best advantage of a public place. Even though she felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she undressed, it didn’t matter. Blake had given the order. And the thought of obeying him and being exposed aroused her, despite the fact that a moment ago she had felt satiated from two orgasms.
Besides, I have my mask.
He cupped her breasts from behind, keeping her nipples uncovered just above his fingers. It didn’t make her feel any less exposed.
She unzipped her skirt and gave it a push over her hips and let if fall to her ankles. Then she did the same with her panties before stepping out of them and giving them a nudge to join the others.
“Stockings and heels can stay,” he said.
That didn’t make her feel any less exposed either. If anything, it would emphasize the bareness of her ass and pussy. That was what he wanted, no doubt. She felt herself slipping into a familiar headspace, where she was content just to be an object, but it wasn’t a smooth transition. She wanted to be Blake’s submissive, his secretary, and his love. Not just an object. But that wasn’t what she’d asked for or offered as C. This would have to do. Part of her loved the simplicity of it. Part of her wanted complicated.
“Keep your eyes down as you turn and kneel,” he told her.
She looked down, then turned slowly. She avoided the temptation to look up at his face. This was actually easier. Less fear of exposure. She knelt on the carpeted floor and raised her head just enough to see the hard ridge in the front of his pants. The position put her at the perfect level. “May I suck on you, Sir?” she asked.
He reached out and touched her hair, and for a moment she thought he was going to yank off the wig. She froze. Then he drew his hand back. “I forget sometimes I can’t pull your hair. Sometime, in private, I’d like you to let me.”
She nodded, unable to refuse him even though she didn’t see how he could and still preserve her secret. She’d been dreaming of having him pull her hair in the office since a week after she’d gotten the job. She couldn’t flat out say no.
“Good girl,” he said. She hoped he didn’t take it as a promise.
He still hadn’t answered her question. Instead he lowered his hand to her cheek,
turning her head as he moved around her so that he was sideways to the window. She thought she divined his intent. Had her arousal at being exposed been so evident, that he was now exploiting it? Or did it please him, and he did it with no concern as to whether she liked it or not? She actually hoped it was the latter. She imagined his thoughts. Look at what I can make this woman do to me. Look how much power I have over her.
She blushed as she crawled and resumed her position kneeling in front of him. Maybe it’s look at what a slut she is. Look how easy. How worthless. There was a time she felt that way, and then she had found some worth through the idea that she could at least still give another human pleasure. She didn’t feel worthless now, and she hoped he didn’t feel that way. But if he was getting off at her being a slut, well… She grinned, conscious that with her looking down, he couldn’t see it. Whatever it took, she wanted to give him the orgasm of his life.
“Here, Sir?”
“Here.”
She unzipped his slacks. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his cock jutted forward into her hands. She shielded it from view with her hand, and engulfed what she couldn’t cover with her mouth. She didn’t know if he had any modesty or not, but she was well aware that the scene wasn’t about exposing him. I’m your cocksucker, Sir. Use me. Expose me. Share me if you like, or keep me all to yourself.
She curled her tongue to mold it to his cock, while stroking the base with her fist. She was rewarded with a moan. No matter what you think of my slutty ways, Sir, I’m going to be the best at this you’ve ever had. She took him in deeper, letting him tickle the back of her throat without quite gagging her, moving her fist against her lips to mark the spot. She’d been able to deep throat a few men, but she doubted it would ever be possible with Blake. He was too big.
She pushed his pants down farther and ran her hand lightly under his balls, stroking back and forth almost to his anus. He put his palm on the window for balance, and the noise reminded her of its presence. She didn’t have a good idea what people could see down there, given the angle she was at, but she knew she was exactly where he had told her to be. In my place. She focused on the task, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. His hips rocked in time. His hand fluttered on her shoulder.
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