Seven Days With Her Boss

by Penny Wylder

  Scrambling, I climb up onto the bed, not daring to question what he wants. He’s on me before I can even brace myself to turn and see what the next command is. Hard, wider than his fingers, his cock pushes into me.

  “Ung!” He grunts out his pleasure as he thrusts in to the base, his balls slapping between us. I hate it when he withdraws, cold air rushing between our bodies as he leans back, and I don’t have to see him to know he’s watching as the blunt head of his cock parts me to claim me again.

  Harder, faster, he thrusts like he can’t get enough, and I don’t know if I’m coming or if it just feels so damned good to have his dick inside me. His fingers clench my hips; I’m going to have bruises. The slam of his pelvis on my ass is a spanking of a different sort, and I cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

  His shaft swells—naked without a condom. I know this is risky but the hard reality of that only heightens my excitement. I want to be close to my boss, I want to feel every cell in his body. My pussy milks him as I orgasm abruptly, the sensation sharp, making my vision blur.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Kodiche tightens his hold on me and collapses onto my back, filling me as he comes. I didn't think I could feel more soaked, but his warm seed thickens in me, coating the inside of my pussy, my labia, my thighs.

  We stay locked together for a few moments before he withdraws and goes into the bathroom. He’s back before I can really miss him, and a warm cloth covers my sex. Kodiche gently turns me to my side and draws a blanket up over us as we breathe. His fingers seek out my sore ass, and he rubs the heated skin, soothing it with his touch.

  “Did I hurt you too much?”

  I shake my head, not quite sure what to say. We just fucked, and we haven’t even kissed. I’ve sucked his cock, had it inside me, but there’s not been anything that says I’m more than a sex doll to him. Any hint that maybe this was more, or could be more, is crushed between us. I’m a means to an end—orgasm—and that’s all.

  “What do you like for breakfast?” he asks awkwardly, as if knowing he’s upset me somehow.

  “I usually just have coffee and a granola bar on the way to the office.”

  His grunt is unimpressed. “That’s a snack, not breakfast. There’s eggs and stuff in the kitchen that you got at the store, but why don’t you run to the bakery down the street and get us some pastries. I’ll make coffee while you’re out; we can eat and then do some work. There's a project that must be done by tonight. We can work together in my office after breakfast.”

  I get up and wipe away the proof of our tryst, strangely shy to be nude in front of him now that I’m not trying to push his boundaries and evoke a reaction. “What should I wear, sir?”

  He gives me a sultry look. “Go like that and use the drive-thru?” He’s playful instead of serious, and part of me really wants to climb back onto the bed and see if he’ll let me have my way with him. Once was not enough; I want more than just a hard fucking.

  I shake my head. “If I get caught, the police would have a hard time believing my story that Mr. Lamant, CEO of the largest corporation in town, wouldn’t let me get dressed after making me come harder than I ever have.” It’s a small admission, but the spark—his inner animal—is back in his eyes from my words. “Maybe I can put on a pair of my shorts with the heels you got me, and a simple tank top?” I won’t be covered much, but it’s way too early in the day for me to go out in his sort of clothes. “Or . . . ” I walk through the bathroom to his bedroom and pick up a discarded t-shirt from his bed. The soft fabric smells deliciously like him. Pulling it on as I come back into my bedroom, I step into my shoes. “Or I could go dressed like this.” Twirling, I let him see that I’m still bare beneath.

  He groans, and the energy between us crackles with something that marks possession. I’d thought he would like me wearing his clothes, but I didn’t know he would have that strong of a reaction. “Yes. That,” he growls. “Get me their French pastry breakfast box. Get whatever you want. I’ll meet you downstairs with coffee after you’re home.”

  Breakfast was quiet but nice, and even the leftovers we reheated and ate for lunch were eaten in companionable silence as we continued going through files to find what was needed. It is only now as I get our shrimp stir-fry prepared for dinner that I really wonder what the hell happened this morning. It was so fucking hot, nearly a perfect fantasy brought to life. I’d suggested the spanking hoping it would work, hoping it would earn me a second chance after oversleeping. I didn’t think it would go that far, though—to Kodiche fucking me doggy-style on the bed.

  All day today as I’ve walked around his house in a t-shirt and heels, his eyes have followed me with longing. It’s like I’ve aroused the Kodiak part of him our coworkers see, and he’s not going to put it back to sleep.

  His voice whispers behind me. “Bend over and touch your toes.”

  My boss is kinky; am I kinky enough to survive him?

  I set the spoon on the counter and bend over, not daring ask why, not at the end of a day where we’ve actually made progress. His hand is cold as it touches the lower curve of my ass where it connects with my thigh. “You’d let me fuck you right here in my kitchen, wouldn’t you?”

  My hair brushes the floor as I nod my agreement. “Yes, sir. I . . .” I start to tell him about my fantasy but stop before I can embarrass myself.

  The rasp of a zipper being lowered is unnaturally loud. I ready myself for the thrust, waiting and waiting. “Are you mine, Vivian? Mine for the week to do whatever I want with?” His hard-on nudges against me, resting at my entrance. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers.

  “I’m yours, Kodiche,” I promise.

  He thrusts into me, catching me as I fall forward. “Good girl. Now fuck yourself on me.” He holds my hips gently, keeping me upright, but I’m the one who has to move forward and back. His cock is so hard inside me it feels as if I’m being held up by it alone. “Make yourself come on my cock, Vivian.”

  It’s awkward bending over with my hands on the floor, his t-shirt falling over my head. I manage it, though. Forward and back, tightening my thighs to give me more leverage with each movement.

  “That’s it. Now faster. I did the work this morning, now it’s your turn. Fuck me.” Kodiche is still except for the small thrusts he can’t stop himself from doing.

  “Can I ride you, sir?” I ask. I clench down around his cock, trying to pull him in harder.

  “If that’s what you want. The floor is cold,” he warns.

  I don’t care, though. I move a bit forward, expecting him to withdraw. “Where are you going?” He pulls me back onto him and the sensation of his cock-head thudding deep inside of me takes my breath away. He keeps slowly bending until we’re both kneeling on the floor, and then rolls back, carefully positioning my legs on either side of him. “Ride me in reverse cowgirl.”

  I’m backwards on him, not at all what I meant when I asked, but he feels too good inside of me to argue. Rocking, I can feel his cock even better like this, the way it is almost dragging across every sensitive spot inside me. I use him for my pleasure, rocking and grinding until I’m almost there.

  My breath quickens; his hand slaps onto my ass, startling me. “Don't come without permission.”

  “Can I come, sir?” Grabbing his hands, I bring them up to my chest. Gently he tugs at my firm nipples, sending little bolts of lightning straight to my clit. “Sir?” I ask again when he doesn’t answer.

  I glance over my shoulder back at him and stop moving. His eyes are closed tight as if in pain, teeth buried in his lower lip. “Kodiche?” Hearing his name he opens his eyes, and they’re black in the dim light.

  “Come.” He says it softly, more air than sound, but it’s all I need.

  I rock back once more and drop our joined hands to my pussy. I come with one of his hands squeezing my breast, the other rubbing my clit. He follows after me, his teeth showing as he climaxes.

  My boss lifts me off him, his come dripping down my leg. “T
ake a shower Vivian. I need you all clean for later.”

  It’s a shuffling sort of walk to the upstairs bathroom between our bedrooms, but I manage to make it without a worse mess. Standing beneath the spray, I let the hot water wash away the slick fluids. Reaching down, I slide two fingers up inside me and pull them out. He filled me as much this time as this morning. Rinsing off, I wonder if he’s had a vasectomy. I’m on birth control, but is Kodiche worried about that? He never asked if I’m using protection.

  Bubbles run down the drain as I wash away the soap, and with it my cares. I’ve made it through two days now, and despite today’s rough start, it’s gone fairly well. Five more days to go. I can make it, I think, especially with orgasms like today has brought. It’s confusing—him and my reaction to all he’s having me do—but it’s also really fucking hot.

  I’m halfway through toweling off when I hear my phone start ringing, and I only have one person with that song as a ringtone: my mom. I run for the phone, leaving a trail of wet footprints. “Hello?” I ask, hearing silence. I missed the call. “Dammit!” I take the phone with me into the bathroom and finish drying, then blot up the water drops I left on the floor. As hot as the spanking was this morning, I really am not up for another one so soon.

  I wait for the voicemail notification to chime and listen to the message as soon as it’s available. My dad had to go to the hospital this morning; he’s fine and home again, but my mom can’t figure out which doctor to call, or who to pay first. It’s the same old stuff for like the tenth time. I could sort it out in five minutes if I were there, but if I leave Kodiche mid-week, he’ll fire me. No job means no supporting my parents. I can’t abandon them when they need me most, and this isn't an emergency—my dad's fine, he's home.

  I text my mom, telling her I can’t make it tonight, but I’m free any time after Wednesday. I type her a quick note about the insurance cards and promise to check online with the hospital billing in the morning.

  “Whom are you texting?”

  I drop my phone onto the bathroom counter, startled by his sudden intrusion. “No one, sir. I was checking the time to make sure I hadn’t taken too long. I set an alarm,” I lie. Briefly I wonder if lying is the way to go. But telling my boss about my family troubles walks too close to asking for more than I already am.

  He's giving me a chance at keeping my job.

  That's all I need from him, all I want.

  I can beg for that... but I'll never beg for personal help. I'm no gold digger, and besides, if I asked for help and he said no? I couldn't handle such cruelty.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” I ask. I'm sure he heard my phone ringing. Naked and still damp, I kneel on the bathroom rug, hoping to appease him.

  He watches me for a long minute. With one last glance at my phone, he turns away. “Nothing. I'll see you in the morning.”

  I feel like he read my mind. Like he saw I was a liar.

  And I hate how he's right.

  7

  It’s been five days of being at Kodiche’s beck and call, but it’s been good. After the first day, he was just as happy to have me in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties around the house, only putting on one of the arm-candy outfits when running errands. I think he’s learned that embarrassing me isn’t an effective punishment for getting me to learn anything out of it. I am supposed to volunteer at the hospital this evening, but I rescheduled my hours back until the weekend after I’m done with Kodiche.

  There’s no way he’d let me go for three hours to read books to kids in the hospital and help with changing bedding and restocking linens in the pediatric ward, not when I agreed to this special seven day training.

  But part of me wants to ask. If I did, would he go with me? There is nothing small about Kodiche; he would take up half the waiting room. No, it’s better this way. I can go in just a couple more days and spend time with the kids then.

  The last time I was away from my volunteer work this long was after I was donating bone marrow to Katie. I'd been visiting my father in and out of the hospital since I was very young. The nurses all knew me and they let me wander while my mother sat with my dad as they ran fluids into him; it was so normal for me.

  That was when I met Katie.

  She was a few years older than I was, but she pretty much lived in the hospital. She’d relapsed from cancer remission twice.

  I found out that her family was searching for a donor for her, that no one in their family was a close enough match. I volunteered for the blood draw, and a few weeks later was taken in for the huge ass needle to be shoved into my hip.

  She got better for a little while after that. I didn't know she'd passed away until one day, while wandering the hospital, a boy came up to me. He said he was Katie’s twin brother; he gave me a stuffed cat. “Katie-cat” was her nickname at home, he had explained. He was beside himself with grief at losing his twin. I guess his bringing me the stuffed animal was his way of connecting with her through me.

  He was my first kiss, though I don’t know if it counts if you give it on the cheek.

  I reach into my suitcase and pull out the worn and patched cat, lightly stroking its fur. It goes everywhere with me, my security blanket through life. It reminds me that selflessness has given me a treasured friendship and helped so many other families as I spend time with their children when they can’t be at the hospital.

  “Yes, I know. I was there, I remember.” Kodiche’s voice echoes in the hallway, and I replace my cat and slowly make my way down the hall. He’s on his laptop in his office, a video call it looks like, eating leftover fruit salad as he talks. “The situation is being dealt with.”

  Kodiche sighs and leans forward, and I can just imagine the glare he’s giving the person on the other end of the call. “Jerry, I know.” The steely tone is nothing like the ice he’s used with me. This one threatens to rip the guy’s head off and shove it up his ass all while making him look forward to it.

  The fight continues, but I can only hear his side of it. There’s only one Jerry, though, and he’s on the Board. He's also wanted to replace me with his daughter for years.

  Kodiche says, “Vivian's mistake was obvious, I agree. But what happens to her is up to me. I decide if she's fired, not you.”

  Then it clicks and my stomach drops.

  He’s fighting with the head of the Board of Directors over me.

  “They were looking for a reason to turn down our bid. You know that; the shareholders know that. I’m not going to bend over backwards for people like that. It’s not the sort of man I am, Jerry.”

  I know exactly what sort of man Kodiche is, and the only backwards bending he wants is me leaning over a balance ball as he fucks me. We worked on a file yesterday where I had to try and keep a wireless keyboard level on my stomach as he went down on me, licking me until I begged to come, all while typing up the report he needed me to process. It is without a doubt the hottest thing related to work I have ever done. I came without his permission, unable to hold back when he asked if I’d do this again at the office in front of the windows one night. The image was too hot for me to picture without coming.

  The spanking after was sweet, just enough to make my eyes sting with tears and my ass get warm before he stopped and ran a bath for me. He’d even climbed in with me, and our bubble bath turned into washing one another and exploring his tattoos.

  There were initials over his heart. They’re faded but traceable: KL. I’d asked him if they belonged to a woman, and after his nod, I didn’t push the issue, merely going onto the next ink. She’s obviously not in his life any longer. It’s not my position to pry and make him upset.

  “No, Jerry. I realize they’re furious and that they don't want to work with me while the person responsible is still an employee.”

  My blood runs cold. If he doesn't fire me, they won't work with him? That’s millions of dollars. Billions maybe. I’m not worth that much. I can’t be.

  “Look, I’ll get back to you later
today. I have some things to deal with here.” Kodiche sighs again and rubs his temples. “Yes, I’m aware of the bottom line, Jerry. I always am.” He waits, listening. “Firing her would definitely make everyone's lives easier.”

  He’s going to do it. I mean, why not? He’ll get the client back, and it isn't like he owes me anything. My boss is facing away, I can see the tension in his broad shoulders. Picturing him turning that black anger on me, blaming me and firing me to erase all of his issues, it makes me sweat.

  Backing away, I bump one of the antique tables on display in the hall and turn to steady it before anything can fall.

  “Viv?” he calls out. Somewhere in these five short days, I've become worthy of a nickname. It's too sweet; I can’t bear to hear it now with the inevitable firing that's coming.

  I race down the hall. I don't know where I'm going; to get my things, to just get away? Shaking muscles buckle my legs, forcing me to stumble along the wall until I reach my mattress. I toss what few things of my own I have here into my bag and head for the stairs. I’m so upset with myself for getting into this situation that I could throw up all over the marble floor.

  All I can do is think of getting home or going to see my parents. Either would be fine.

  “Where are you going?” His tone is the one he uses when he tells me to kneel. There's surprise in his eyes as he stands far down the hall, barely out of his office. I know I'll make it to the stairs before him if I move fast enough.

  “I’m leaving, Kodiche.”

  He takes a single step my way. The storm in his expression darkens. “You were listening to my call, weren't you?” Pushing fingers to his brow, he breathes out. “Viv.”

  “Don't!” I snap, shouldering my bag and rushing for the stairs. My vision is blurring; my heart beating too fast. I know all the signs of a panic attack but I'm too proud to slow down. “No nicknames, how dare you? I know your plan, and after putting me through this... all of this, using me, I...”