Worth Any Price

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  He was so reverent about her breasts that it humbled her. Here was a man who deserved to see her breasts, a man who could appreciate them. Robert didn’t often seem to, and lately he referred to them as her “jugs.” Now what woman would like that?

  “I can’t wait to see them in all their glory,” he said, hinting that he was ready for her to carry on.

  She smiled over at him as she tried to build the courage to bare her breasts completely.

  She removed her blouse, reached both hands behind her back, and unhooked the clasp of her bra. She felt the elastic of the bra go loose and sighed before crossing her arms over each other and covering her breasts. Then she pulled the straps off her shoulders before letting the bra fall to her wrists. She hung her head in shame.

  “Move your hands,” he said, and the huskiness of his voice caused her to look back up at him.

  As she moved her hands to her lap, she watched his hungry eyes feasting on her.

  “Luscious. You are simply luscious. Great tits, Mrs. Rowe.”

  He sat there for many minutes just staring, taking her in, and she could feel her nipples tightening, puckering into tight little buds. And it wasn’t because she was cold. Somehow, this was what . . .? Erotic? Yes, that was it exactly. She felt wanton, but beautiful. By his reaction, he was making her feel more beautiful then she’d ever felt in her life.

  “Pick up the pad and pen. It’s time to get to work.”

  She did as he asked, then was amazed as the words flowed out of him. He dictated a letter that was amazing in its clarity, succinct in its message, and compelling in its closing. Good God, the man had an exceptional way of putting words together. The fact that he said he needed her for the stimulation required to write it made it all the more thrilling.

  They worked for an hour. She wrote his thoughts on her pad using shorthand and he mulled over his ideas, never once taking his eyes from her bared breasts. Once, he paused between sentences to ask, “Are you cold, or just excited?” and he tilted her a smile as he lifted an eyebrow in her direction before going on.

  After the fourth letter, he said, “Let’s take a break. Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee? There should still be some on the warmer plate. I take it black.”

  She bent to retrieve her blouse from the carpet.

  “Oh no. Serve me topless and let me watch those beauties jiggle. I couldn’t stand it if you were to cover them now.”

  She slowly stood and made her way over to the coffee maker, found the cups, and poured them each some coffee. She was conscious of his eyes on her and even though he had been looking at her for over an hour this way, she blushed. She looked down at the cups as she walked back and saw her big breasts swaying with her movements. This was vulgar, she thought. And wicked as sin. She took the mugs over to the work area and walked around his desk to hand him his. He remained sitting, although he did swivel his seat to get a better look at her breasts close up. While it unnerved her, it also excited her. She could feel her nipples reaching out for something. A touch, a lick, anything. She was becoming aroused and it scared her.

  He took the cup from her hand, careful to stroke her fingers as the cup was passed to him. It sent a shiver though her.

  “Sit, we’ll sip our coffee for a few minutes, then get back to work.” He was motioning to the edge of his desk, patting it to indicate where he meant for her to sit. Much closer than she had been in the chair on the other side of his desk.

  She backed herself up to the desk and lifted her bottom until she sat squarely on the desk in front of him. She was wearing a short skirt and it became much shorter as she slid back onto the desktop.

  “Spread your legs and let me see your underwear,” he whispered over the top of his coffee cup. She watched him take a sip and noticed his full, ripe lips. He sure was sensual, she thought as she complied, and spread her thighs just the barest amount. He backed his chair up and angled it in again so she was now directly in front of him, her lap right in his line of vision.

  “Wider.”

  She moved her thighs further apart. Her knees were now almost pointing at the opposite walls.

  “Pink. Pretty pink. With lace. Nice.”

  She shivered and to cover up, she took a sip of her coffee.

  “One day soon, you’re going to show me your pink, the pink inside your sweet nether lips.”

  She choked on the coffee.

  “What are you thinking right now?” he asked.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m thinking that this morning when I dressed for this interview, I should have paid more attention to my lingerie than to my resume.”

  Her crooked smile told him she was teasing, almost flirting. It was working, he thought, it always did.

  “Never occurred to you to wear your finest?”

  “These are my finest. They match at least.”

  “Write down your sizes, I’m going to have to buy you some really nice stuff.”

  “And how will I explain that to my husband?”

  “The fact that another man is buying you sexy lingerie or that you’re wearing it?”

  “Both. Though I doubt he’d even notice if I paraded around in front of him in it.”

  “What a shame, a waste in fact. You have gorgeous tits and I’m betting your pussy is superb, too. But let’s get back to work, I’m on a roll.” He put his coffee cup down and his fingertips brushed along the outer edge of her exposed thigh. She thought she was going to melt and slink off the desk onto the floor.

  Then she looked down into his face, and the heated look in his eyes mesmerized her.

  “Why don’t you take your panties off, but leave your skirt on? I’ll ask you to pull your skirt up in a few minutes, but for now it’ll be enough just knowing you’re not wearing any panties under it.

  He helped her off the desk, then held her by the waist to balance her while she ran her hand up her hip and snagged the elastic, then slowly wiggled out of her panties. She noticed his eyes dancing as her breasts jiggled and she so wanted him to lean in and clamp his lips on one. Or both. His breath fanned them as she bent to pick up her panties and she thought she was going to die from the sensation as heat coursed through her, flushing her face.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re beautiful. You’re in the wrong profession, Mrs. Rowe. You should have been a stripper. You would have made history. You put Pamela Anderson to shame.”

  God, the things he said! And even though she was topless and going commando under a short skirt in his office, she was suddenly jealous of his wife. Her eyes flicked over to a picture on the credenza behind his desk. A stunningly beautiful woman smiled back at her from a polished silver frame. What must she be like, she wondered. What must their sex life be like?

  She was starting to feel guilty for her thoughts when he said, “She thinks I’m insatiable, and maybe I am. I can’t get enough of looking at beautiful women. Some men need more than one woman. I guess I’m one of them.” He indicated for her to take the seat opposite him, the one that didn’t have the desk as a barrier. Then he started dictating another letter, another wonderfully composed letter that astounded her. Halfway through, he switched gears and she didn’t notice his mind wasn’t on his work anymore until she realized she had written, “spread your legs wide for me,” on her steno pad.

  She looked over at him and saw that he had a look that said, “Don’t mess with me, just do as I say.” It was a hard look, unyielding as he commanded her to do his bidding, and it was sexier than all get out. She let her knees fall wide as she sat in the armchair not four feet from where he sat, watching her.

  “I can’t see what I need to see. Scoot your bottom to the end of the chair.”

  Very self-conscious now, she hesitated.

  “Do it and do it now!�
��

  Instantly, she moved forward, so much forward that it caused her to slump in the chair, showing him oh so much more than she had intended.

  “Excellent, excellent.” His eyes burned into her as he lasered them into the area between her spread thighs. “A nice fair blonde color. I like that, less hair to diminish the view.”

  She closed her eyes tightly and mentally took in her position. Here she was, her breasts no longer squarely in the center of her chest as they fell off to the side. And just what was her position? She was practically on her back, knees bent and splayed wide giving him an unadorned view of her womanhood. He’d noticed that she was a true blonde, from this range it would be hard not to. She cringed as she realized he was seeing much more of her than she wanted him to. Yet, she didn’t close her legs one iota.

  His eyes burned into her, she could feel the heat of them on her, there, between her legs. Then he started dictating again. For the next fifteen minutes he dictated nonstop while she wrote the rapidly flowing words in shorthand on the pad poised in the air above her face. Then he ended the letter, stood, and walked over to where she half sat, half slid out of the chair. Before she knew what was happening, he had knelt on one knee in front of her and was examining her up close, so intimately she could feel his breath on her thighs.

  She didn’t move, didn’t want to upset him. He was doing something to her, something mental, and somehow the gradual . . . what was it? Was it foreplay of some kind? And what was with that incredible genius that spewed forth while he viewed her? He examined her minutely as if he had taken her prisoner and thereby was entitled to this graphic sight. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she wanted desperately to please him. She needed to hear his words of praise.

  “Let’s pull that skirt up and out of the way, shall we?” Never taking his eyes from her.

  She should object. She should refuse. But she couldn’t. She simply reached down and with both hands inched it up over her hips until it was bunched at her waist. And now she was topless and bottomless, showing him her pussy, blatantly wide open.

  “Wider. I need to see more of you. Put your feet on the arms of the chair. Come, I’ll help you.”

  And before she could protest, he had slipped off her clunky, high-heeled sandals, cradled each soft foot in a warm hand and lifted them to the arms of the side chair she sat in. And now she was exactly as she would be for her obstetrician. Splayed open as far a woman could possibly be. Showing him everything she had.

  “Yes, I knew you’d be lovely here, too. I didn’t know you’d be so moist though, that’s a pleasant surprise.”

  He was mocking her and she knew it. He knew the effect he was having on her. How could he not?

  She looked down, trying to see his face, to register his reaction, but the sight of her open legs, her spread thighs and his face staring between them, caused a rush of sensations. She felt herself flooding down there, and he chuckled.

  “Show your pink, Mrs. Rowe. Take your fingers, put them between your legs and spread your slick lips. Show me the pink of your love tunnel.”

  “Mr. Coxworthy, really! This is going too far!”

  “No, I don’t think so,” he whispered, as his hands went to cup her knees to hold them open. “Don’t take this pleasure from me. I am in a visual heaven. Your cunt is incomparable. I’ve never seen one quite so lovely. Or so denuded. Your blonde tufts hide nothing. Everything you have, everything you possess is within my view and it is quite perfect. Please, spread your cunt lips for me and show me your pink. Please.”

  His plea was so soft and so mewling that she was humbled by it. He truly seemed to be worshipping her. And she loved it. She reached her hands down and deftly spread her nether lips for him.

  “Wider,” he breathed and she felt the warm moistness of it caress her.

  “Is that the only word you know?”

  “It’s the only word that matters right now. Wider.”

  She used two fingers on each hand and pressed her protruding lips even further apart.

  “Ahhh. There it is. Nirvana. Your sweet cunty hole. It is exquisite. More lovely than I could ever have imagined.”

  She dropped her head back, as she was almost completely horizontal, and looked up at the ornate ceiling. She couldn’t believe it. Here she was, buck naked on a chair, with her feet on the arms of it, her knees as wide as they could possibly be, and her fingers were holding the most intimate part of herself open for a man who was a virtual stranger—her new boss, a man she’d known less than a few hours!

  She closed her eyes and a tear slipped out. Yet, she didn’t want him to stop looking at her or praising her.

  “Slide forward now and lift your bottom up, I want to see your bum hole, too.”

  “Good God No!”

  “Good God Yes! He’s made a Venus here, and I want to see every inch of her.”

  Helpless against his words, she lifted her bottom up and slid forward until he had guided her to the edge of the chair. His hands on her hips, then on her bottom, were warm and smooth and she reveled in his touch.

  This was the ultimate. Her breasts, their nipples hard and engorged were his for the viewing; so was everything she owned, her pussy, her asshole. They were all his now. He was seeing all of her, and she felt like she belonged to him.

  “I need a picture of this,” he whispered.

  “No, no, no,” she whimpered.

  “Yes. You must allow me one picture.”

  “Please, no.”

  He bent forward and touched his lips to her. She sobbed her pleasure as his lips touched the nubbin at the top of her slit. She cried out and convulsed when he sucked her clit between his lips and made her come.

  When the aftershocks had worn off, he moved back and clicked off a few pictures with the small digital camera he’d had in his pocket.

  “Lovely, just lovely,” he whispered as he took more close-ups. She whimpered and cried softly but didn’t dare stop him. Didn’t dare move her fingers from showing him all of her, opening herself for his hot gaze.

  “Tomorrow, we’re entertaining a small delegation from Japan. I’ll give you a bonus of ten thousand dollars if you greet them topless and then let me show them your cunt before they leave. They don’t speak English, but this, these tits of yours and this pussy, it speaks a universal language. Wider, use your fingers to spread your lips again, I need one more shot. I need a shot of your pink. Show me your sweet pink again, my beautiful, sexy secretary.”

  She was crying uncontrollably now, yet she was doing as he asked.

  He knew he owned her, body and soul. He could do whatever he wanted to her and she’d be helpless to his demands. Women wanted to be viewed and told they were lovely. They were so predictable, he thought with scorn. It was so easy to get their clothes off. They were so vain. He left her gaping open for him and walked over to his desk. He hit a control button and the drapes separated in the center and began moving to the opposite sides of the room.

  “Let’s get a little more light on the matter, shall we?” He sauntered back, cocked his head, and stood looking at her with hot eyes before repositioning her chair, pulling her forward, and facing her toward the window. “Yes, you’re definitely going to make a lot of bonus money this year.” And maybe my colleagues with their high-powered telescopes in the office building across the way will enjoy the new view on this side of the street. As long as he praised her and told her how beautiful she was, she would display herself for him. And for others, many, many others.

  There in the ratty old recliner, he finally managed to come. His meager load spurted out of him into his waiting hand and he cried out. It was not the orgasm he had wanted, it never was anymore, but it would suffice. Yes, it would do. He dropped the booklet to the carpet and sighed. He did better with the visual. The visual of
“his women,” doing his bidding, the women he made bare it all, for him. Damn Internet. It was always going down just when he needed it most. He missed his girls. But now it was time for a new one.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Caison was sitting behind his desk, studying his sermon notes when she came in. A woman who looked familiar knocked timidly on the door, walked inside, and slowly shut the door behind her. “Reverend, do you have a minute? I just have to talk to somebody.”

  He put aside his book as he looked over at her. The sun from the window behind him lit her face and he thought to himself, Now I recognize her. She attended the ten-thirty service on Sundays, sat in one of the last rows and was always alone, always regal, and always the first to leave. It was rare that he was able to get to the back of the church in time to shake her hand and wish her a good morning.

  Now that she was close, he could see that she had been crying. Her beautiful, pale, porcelain face was a stark contrast to the vivid green eyes that were framed by dark, feathered lashes and her coral-colored lips. Natural, he thought. He couldn’t detect any signs of makeup. She was angelic in her perfection, in her petiteness.

  “Please have a seat. It’s Mrs. Lawson isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Paige Lawson.” She took the seat he indicated and pulled it closer to the desk. She propped her elbows on the edge of his desk, framed her fingers so that they pressed in at her temples while her thumbs held up her jaw.

  “Mrs. Lawson? Are you okay?”

  “No, Reverend, I am not. Nor will I ever be again, I fear. It’s my son, Joshua. He’s missing, he’s been taken.”