by Amy Valenti
“Who says I’m yours?”
Laughing softly, he nipped my neck, catching the flesh between his teeth and flicking his tongue against it for a brief second before letting go. The pain was only mild, but it made me gasp all the same.
“You did,” he answered. “You called me ‘Sir’.”
“I was being flippant,” I told him, trying not to grind my hips against his. It would give the wrong impression.
Somewhere deep inside me, a part of me was laughing its ass off at the thought that I was still resisting him. Was I crazy?
“Have you ever knelt for a boyfriend? Followed his orders in the bedroom? Let him control your orgasms?”
I tried to answer, I swear I did. Instead, I moaned, and he gave a low growl of frustration.
“Answer my question, Eleanor.”
“No.”
He tangled a hand in my hair, close to my scalp, and tugged slightly, forcing my head back so I’d look at him. “No, you won’t answer, or no, you haven’t done D/s before?”
D/s? It took my brain a second to process the reference. I’d had a friend at college who was into dominance and submission, not to mention the pain play that made up the BDSM whole.
Imagining Marc in leather pants, holding a flogger and preparing to make my ass red, was enough to send my brain reeling. I pulled it together with an effort. “No, I haven’t done any kink. Just fluffy handcuffs.” And that had been a while.
Marc smiled and kissed me, deceptively softly. I could feel the heat he was struggling to suppress, and it lit a fire inside me that I couldn’t control. I kissed him back, hard, harder—challenging him to let loose.
He growled and grabbed me by the backs of my thighs, lifting me off my feet. Before I could breathe, he’d carried me the few feet to the sleek leather couch along one wall and dropped down onto it with me in his lap, straddling his waist. I broke our kiss and stared down at him, all too aware of his hard cock pressing against the heat between my legs. Regretting that I hadn’t worn a skirt to work today, yet thankful for it at the same time. I might get out of this with a scrap of dignity yet.
Screw dignity!
He held me with a strong hand on either side of my waist, keeping me from leaning in and continuing where I’d left off. “I need you to trust me.”
It seemed like an odd request for someone who’d already got me into position for a deep, hard fuck, but something in his face was deadly serious. I opened my mouth, unsure what I was about to say, but somehow knowing it was the truth.
“I trust you.”
He smiled, a little dubious. “Why? You’ve already pointed out the obvious liberties I’ve taken with you.”
I thought about it. “Because you didn’t have to ask me to trust you to get what you want. You could have just started undoing my pants.”
“Thought about it,” he admitted, with a self-deprecating grin that made my heart leap.
“But you didn’t. So I trust you.” Maybe it was flawed logic, but in this moment it was the only logic I had to cling to.
He nodded slowly, then released me. “If that’s true, then get off my lap and kneel on the floor.”
A shiver went through me. I knew enough about D/s to know that was standard.
Part of me wanted to distract him with kisses, persuade him to stop playing games and just take me. But it was silenced by the curious side of me.
I got up carefully and knelt at his feet.
“Straighten your spine. Arms behind your back.” The instructions were calm and quiet, though I sensed that if I looked up at him, I’d see the same heat in his expression as I had before. I complied as best I could, keeping my eyes on the carpet.
“Good girl.”
A dizzy rush of happiness went through me at his approval, followed by mortification. What was I—his dog?
As if he sensed the conflict running through my head, he leaned forward and cupped my cheek with his hand. I blinked up at him, and he smiled. “It takes strength to submit. I don’t underestimate that.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I nodded.
Marc dropped his hand back into his lap and analysed me for a moment. “When you’re under my control—which won’t be all the time, not yet—you’ll address me as ‘Sir’. You’ll obey my orders unless you really have strong objections. If you do, say ‘yellow’ to pause what we’re doing and discuss it, or ‘red’ to stop everything entirely. Clear?”
I swallowed. Did I really want to do this?
Yes, yes, yes!
I didn’t think I’d ever been this turned on in my life, and that had to mean something. “Yes… Sir.”
“Good girl.” His approval was balm to the part of me that insisted I was crazy to be even considering this. “If you want to end this arrangement entirely, you don’t need to fear for your job. I’m not going to get you fired if things come to an end between us. I’m not that kind of guy.”
I nodded again, relieved. It made me feel more like this was my own choice. He hadn’t forced me to come to his office, or anything since, but I did feel a little out of control. I wasn’t quite sure this didn’t conflict horribly with my professional ethics, but I decided that, for now, I was just not going to think about it.
“Yes, Sir.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “You really have no idea how much hearing that turns me on, do you?”
I cast a glance into his lap as he shifted a little, adjusting his pants. From the looks of things, they had to be pretty uncomfortable by now. I fought with the strong desire to unzip his fly, pull out his cock and take it in my mouth, to give him the relief he clearly craved.
Instead, I just said it again, letting some mischief seep into my tone. “Yes, Sir.”
Cursing, he leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Stand up.”
The pain should have shocked me, maybe scared me. It didn’t. All I felt was arousal. “Yes, Sir.”
Once I was on my feet, he gestured to my clothing. “Strip, quick as you can. And keep quiet while you’re doing it, or I’ll have to gag you.”
I opened my mouth rebelliously, but decided against provoking him when a deliciously dangerous flash came to his eyes. Keeping my silence, my skin tingling with every move I made, I stripped down to my underwear, leaving my clothing in an untidy heap to one side of me. Marc made no attempt to hide his appreciative gaze, and by the time I stood before him in my standard black bra and panties ensemble, my pussy was on fire.
“Did I tell you to stop?” he asked, his voice low, but with an edge of command.
I almost answered him, but remembered his directive to keep quiet in time. With burning cheeks and trembling fingers, I unhooked my bra and let it slide down my arms and onto the floor with the rest of my clothing, all too aware of the large, uncovered windows at my back and the evaluating gaze on my hardened nipples.
“Good girl. Now the panties.”
I hesitated, glanced over my shoulder at the windows. We were too high up for any voyeurs—we both knew it—but there was something terrifyingly exhibitionistic about baring myself in front of the large, transparent panes of glass.
“Are you going to make me ask again?” The edge to his voice was a little harder this time.
“N-no, Sir,” I murmured, and pulled off my panties slowly. They were so wet with arousal that I had to peel them away from my soaked pussy, and the second the cool air hit the wet flesh I exposed, another ripple of need went through me. I was getting off on being humiliated—what kind of person was I?
“You’re doing fine,” he told me gently, as if I had expressed my concern aloud. “Kneel again.”
Sinking to my knees, I assumed the position he’d instructed me to hold last time—back straight, arms behind my back. It pushed my breasts out and made me very aware of my taut nipples, but I took deep breaths and tried not to squirm with lust or discomfort.
“Oh, you look beautiful like that.” He leaned forward and brushed his hand lightly across my throat. “Al
l you need is a collar, and you’ll be the picture of submission.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure I could.
“Are you wondering when I’ll touch you, Eleanor? Really touch you?”
I couldn’t believe he was still calling me Eleanor when I was naked on his floor, obeying his commands. But he was right. I was wondering. I felt almost dizzy with awareness of my body—every over-sensitised erogenous zone screamed out for his touch. As desperate as I was right now, I’d probably touch myself if he ordered it—but I kept that thought to myself.
“Yes, Sir,” I said instead.
“Do you remember what I said to you earlier?”
He could have meant one of a million things, but one stood out in particular. “That you won’t until I’m begging for it, Sir.”
“Correct.” He tilted up my chin, leaned in almost to within kissing distance. “Are you ready to beg yet?”
He hadn’t ordered me to, and I was grasping at straws, trying to stay in control. “I don’t beg, Sir.”
Marc looked me over impassively for a moment, then shrugged and stood up. “That’s fair enough. Stay there.”
Chapter Four
A wave of fear washed over me. Had I blown it without meaning to? Was he giving up on me so easily?
He crossed to his desk and moved the paperwork and electronics on it to one side, then beckoned to me. “Stand here.”
Hesitantly, I crossed the office and stood at the end of the desk.
“Place your hands and elbows on the desk.”
To do that, I was going to have to lean over. Sudden images of him taking me from behind hit my mind’s eye, and I shivered, goose bumps running over my skin in a tingling wave.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, and did as he asked, suddenly conscious of how my ass stuck out in this position. Could he see my pussy between my thighs, too?
Of course, that was exactly what he wanted. I was just a little slow to put the pieces together.
“I owe you a punishment, Eleanor. For assuming the worst about me when you hadn’t even met me. Not to mention for your insinuation that I would take advantage of my position of power to make you sleep with me against your will.”
Oh, God. He’s going to—
“You know your safewords,” he said softly, then stepped in behind me and ran his hand over my cheeks without dipping into the crease in between, or lower, to the slickness between my thighs. I ached for him to touch me there, knew he’d be able to stroke me to orgasm within a few moments, but he didn’t stray, to my disappointment.
He paused for a second, as if giving me a second to use a safeword. I kept quiet, waiting, desperate for more even though I was pretty sure this punishment was going to hurt.
The first slap of his open palm against my ass was louder than it was painful, but it still made me jump. It was an effort to stay in the position he required of me, but I managed it, and his second slap was less of a shock, though it hurt more.
He varied his strikes between my left and right cheeks, starting slowly at first, but building in speed and intensity as I relaxed into the situation. I’d been right—this was painful—but with every slap, heat built in the spanked skin until it rivalled the heat in my pussy, where my pulse still thudded incessantly. I hadn’t thought I’d ever be turned on by pain, but I was so wet that Marc could have slid into me from behind in one easy thrust. God, I wanted him to.
He finished with a volley of hard, fast slaps that left me breathless, my ass stinging and my eyes watering. As he squeezed and massaged each cheek, soothing and rubbing away the worst of the pain, I moaned softly, knowing he could tell how turned on I was, hoping like hell that he chose to take advantage of it.
“Good girl.” Marc’s hand dropped away. Somewhere behind me, I heard the rustle of clothing. The jingle of a belt being undone. The thud of gravity carrying the heavy buckle to the floor. I itched to turn around and ogle his body, to see if it was really as toned and irresistible as it felt.
“Don’t turn around, or I’ll have to punish you in a way you really won’t like.” The threat, while made in a mild tone, seemed deadly serious to me. I wasn’t ready for another punishment, especially since it might involve being told to put my clothes back on and leave.
I closed my eyes and waited.
“Straighten up.”
I did, moving slowly to adjust from the position I’d been holding for… how long? I didn’t know.
Something silky settled over my face. I opened my eyes again reflexively, but black silk impeded my vision. He’d blindfolded me.
With a warm hand on the small of my back, Marc guided me across the room to what I assumed was the area with the couch, then ordered me to kneel on the floor again. I whimpered, the anticipation of seeing him naked fading. He was naked, I was sure of it—he just wasn’t letting me get an eyeful. “Sir…”
“Something to say?” he asked, as he had in the stairwell earlier. If he ever used those words in the context of work rather than play, I was pretty sure I’d be halfway to orgasm and we’d be the only two people in a roomful of people who’d know it. The thought made me indescribably turned on.
I heard the creak of leather as he sat back down on the couch opposite my kneeling form and waited for me to speak.
“What do you want me to do?” It was the only way I could think of to move things along.
“Go with your submissive instincts,” was the reply, and I knew he was watching me expectantly, even though I was blindfolded.
I took a deep, trembling breath. Come on, Nell. You can do this.
I bowed my head and waited for instructions, concentrating on my breathing, trying to ignore the slick heat that begged for attention between my thighs. All I wanted was to jump into his lap and guide his cock deep inside me, but that wasn’t submissive.
I wasn’t sure if he’d expected me to stay still and wait for him, or something else entirely. All I was sure of, as he slipped a hand to the back of my neck and squeezed, was that he approved of my choice.
“You know I won’t take you until you ask for it.”
Having the control in my hands was frustrating. I wanted him to take what he wanted, to drag me up against him and tell me, in no uncertain terms, that I was his to do with as he wished. I didn’t want to make the decision—I just wanted the simplicity of his strong hands on my naked body.
Biting my lip, I nodded slowly.
“Spread your thighs.”
I could feel myself blushing all over as I did. There was something deliciously forbidden about exposing my pussy for a man I had spent less than an hour in the company of, and I knew he’d be able to see exactly how wet and ready for him I was.
Without warning, he tweaked one of my nipples, and I reflexively tried to press my thighs together, to squirm at the heady sense of lust spiralling through me.
“I don’t recall telling you to move,” Marc said, and I half-whimpered with frustration as he squeezed my sensitive nipple—gently at first, but then steadily increasing the pressure until I cried out with the pain.
He released the skin immediately, and the sensation subsided to a dull throb. Unsure whether I was relieved or whether I wanted more, I took a deep, shaky breath and released it. “Sir…?”
“Yeah?”
Heat flushing my skin, I whispered, almost too softly for him to hear, “I want you to do whatever you want.”
“You weren’t being stubborn when you said you don’t beg, were you?” He sounded amused. “You just don’t have the proper incentive yet, haven’t learned how to do it.”
I shivered at the thought of what a proper incentive might be.
Chapter Five
Marc stood up, pulled me with him. I swayed a little, the blindfold disorienting me, and he steadied me while keeping me at arm’s length. Then, circling around behind me, he pressed his muscled torso against my back, his hips against my ass. I’d been right—he was gloriously naked, and his erection pressed against my tailbone, hot a
nd rigid.
I moaned as he encircled my waist with one arm, then slid his opposite hand down to my soaked folds, cupping me lightly. It wasn’t enough, yet still so intense that I almost came right there.
When he began to run two fingertips gently over my pussy, collecting damp heat and driving me insane, I widened my stance to allow him better access. “Oh, God…”
“Like that?” he murmured, his voice low and sexy close to my ear.
“So much…”
He kissed my neck, nibbled my earlobe, all the while keeping up a slow, tantalising tease of my body, which felt as if it were about to explode with need. He found my clit, circled it with his finger, then dipped the same finger a little way inside me, wetting the digit before returning it to the sensitive spot.
I cried out, pressing myself back against his hard-on, hot and desperate to feel it slide deep inside me.
“You know, I never do this,” he told me softly. “I know what you must be thinking—that I just bring women up here for fun and pretend to be working so I don’t displease my dad. Truthfully? I don’t have time. I run most of the company from this office, but ever since I met you the other day, I’ve been wanting to do exactly what you accused me of.”
Mesmerised by his hands and his voice, I listened, gasping at his touch as he sped up just a little.
“I never thought you’d be this wet when I touched you for the first time, though.”
I whimpered, partly with desire and partly from embarrassment.
“You’re dying for me to take you, aren’t you, beautiful?”
“Yes…” I couldn’t deny it, not with the way I was writhing against his fingers.
“Yes what?” he asked, stilling his fingers just as he’d found a rhythm that would have had me coming within a minute.
I scrabbled for the right response. “Yes, Sir… oh, God, please…”
With a low chuckle, he resumed his teasing, coaxing a cry of pleasure from my throat as he slid two fingers inside me and curled them just right. “You’re on the right track, but not quite frantic enough, from my perspective.”