by Jorja Tabu
“How would you like me to proceed, sir?” Lisa’s voice shook with excitement; she felt suddenly unashamed of the raging desires within her when they were mirrored so clearly on his face.
“Two. Two today, Ms. Tyrell,” he said softly, taking in her breasts, her belly, the small tuft of hair below. “Come here.” This time, she knew he wanted her on his lap. His arms circled around her waist as she bent over and lay the papers on the desk, then pulled her down. There was one less barrier between her damp lips and his body; unlike yesterday, however, he directed her hips so that she was straddling his muscular thigh. She felt him stiffen below and to the side, digging into her cheek, and wondered why he hadn’t resumed their exact position from the day before. It made her pussy ache with remembered longing. Was he teasing her deliberately? To make her crave it? “I’m going to touch you,” he said, his breath misting her shoulder, and the heat of it made her nipples harden. She knew he was waiting for her assent.
“Yes, sir,” Lisa murmured, her hands on the desk, her back arching involuntarily as his palms flattened on her stomach.
“Your performance was much better today, Ms. Tyrell,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver. His hands slowly slid north, circling her breasts with the barest touch, but even that made her cry out. “Yes, that’s what I was afraid of,” he said, and suddenly bounced her, hard, on his leg. Her pussy slammed into the meat of his thigh, the pressure surging through her so intensely that she threw her head back. Her body rumbled with fire. “You have to discipline yourself,” he whispered. His fingertips stroked her nipples, and his teeth grazed her throat; Lisa shut her eyes and clenched her hands, trying not to moan. “You’re going to make this phone call on my line, and you can’t be undisciplined.”
Shock hit her like cold water. “Sir, I can’t--I wouldn’t be able--”
“--You can, and you will,” he said firmly as he squeezed her nipples, pinching the tips between his fingers as he rocked her on his thigh again. Lisa saw sparks. Her clit swelled, catching on the fabric of his pants, and a shudder ran over her body. His cock was hard against her, but he gently rearranged her to avoid it as she sighed. “But first, we have to punish you. Do you agree that you deserve it, Lisa?”
Her lip trembled, and her body shook with desperate anticipation. The last blow left her so close to orgasm she was afraid she would embarrass herself and come in his lap, leaving her juice all over his thigh. “Yes, sir.”
“I made these for you,” he whispered. “They look like ordinary clips, but they’ve been stretched.” When she opened her eyes, the toys he’d played with during their meeting glittered in his hand. “They won’t leave any marks, but they’ll serve.” Lisa felt a clutch of fear, but decided to trust him. It had never served her wrong, so far. One,” he whispered, and deftly stroked her nipple to a fine point; as Lisa gasped with pleasure, he eased the clip over it, pinching her flesh between the slender metal. The second clip bit into her other breast, the meat of her nipple neatly caught inside. “Two,” he whispered, and lightly kissed her neck.
Lisa couldn’t help it; she felt the orgasm surging up from her engorged clit as if her body were some foreign creature, beyond her control. “Oh sir, sir, sir, I--” She panted, her head rolling against his chest, her back bending. He bit her shoulder and jerked his leg, the pressure hammering through her body with each echoing wave of her orgasm. “Sir!” Lisa gave in and let it rock her, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his hands on her thighs to steady her as she rode. Yamamoto used the barest movements to extend her pleasure, letting her open on top of him as she came. When she was done, he deftly spun her sideways and cradled her as before.
“We’ve got to make that call, Lisa,” he said softly. Her head was against his chest, his breath warm on her forehead. She felt him stroking her cheek, and smiled.
“Do we have to, sir?” She looked up him, blinking.
“You have to, yes,” he whispered, and for just a second, she thought he might... almost... But just as his lips were about to touch hers, Yamamoto clenched his eyes shut and leaned back, planting them gingerly on her forehead instead. Lisa felt a rush of sadness, but tried to brush it away; his arms tightened around her for a long moment before he moved again. “Are you ready?”
“No, sir,” she said, and he laughed; it immediately struck her that she’d never heard that sound before.
“Well, I believe you are,” he said, sounding delighted, almost teasing. When she sighed, one of his eyebrows arched mischievously. Slowly, she untangled herself and reached for the phone. “Not quite, Ms. Tyrell,” he said softly in her ear. “Climb up on the desk. Hands and knees. Now.”
In spite of the powerful orgasm her body was recovering from, new sparks prickled inside of her at the tone in his voice. For some reason, she’d thought they were done playing for the day; part of her nagged that she should’ve deliberately made some more typos, been later, anything, but she hushed it. Besides, the day wasn’t over yet. With her knees still shaking, Lisa climbed onto his wide desk, almost knocking over a jar of pencils on the way. Her fingers trembled as they rearranged the stack of papers she needed for the protocol, and she crawled over to the phone. Mr. Yamamoto languidly sipped from the glass of water with her panties still inside. “Who should I call first, sir?”
“How about McMillen, on four?” The phone protocol shouldn’t take long; it was really just a formality, to make sure the system worked as it should. “I want another glass of water,” Yamamoto announced as she dialed the first number. “Make sure you speak clearly.”
“Yes sir,” Lisa said, tucking the phone in the crook of her neck as she dialed. She needed one hand on the desk to keep her balance. The air was cool on her exposed lips, damp from coming.
“Speakerphone,” Yamamoto directed her from the small stand behind the client’s couch as he filled his glass with ice. They clanged into the empty glass as she nodded.
“Yes sir,” she said.
“This might feel strange at first,” Mr. Yamamoto said, the line coming alive and ringing through the speakers. “I want you to remember that you’re working on your discipline. Do you understand, Ms. Tyrell?”
She looked with longing at her apple, wondering what he meant. Surely, he didn’t mean talking on the phone. “Yes sir,” Lisa said, just as McMillen on four answered the phone. She began going through the list of questions in front of her. “Hello, this is Lisa Tyrell up in Development,” she began. “We’ve commenced beta-testing our latest communications protocol--” Icy drops of water splashed against the small of her back, and she had to stop herself from shrieking. “--And we are looking for feedback on how it’s going.” A sliver of ice slid along her ass crack, leaving cool water and goosebumps in its wake. “Can you tell me if the sound is clear?” Her voice faltered on the last word, but she knew she’d made herself understood when the man replied.
“Sure is,” he said cheerfully. The ice cube ran over the delicate skin of her anus, and she sucked in her breath. “Clear as a bell.”
“Fantastic,” Lisa said, noticing that her nipples were incensed; less than five minutes had passed since the clips were applied, but they felt heavy, tense with desire. “Have you used this protocol to communicate with your--” She gasped as the ice slid inside her and rough fingertips breached the pink inner folds of her deep self, just barely. “--Your employees sir?” A firm hand flattened on her ass cheek, the thumb resting on the forbidden pucker above as another hand slid more dripping ice inside her pussy. A small cry escaped her mouth, and she bit her lips.
“Are you alright, miss?”
The firm hand lifted and returned--SMACK--making her whole ass shake. Lisa felt another blossom of passion opening deep inside of her, but tried to quell it. “I’m fine sir, we’ve got a broken copier up here. It keeps acting up at the weirdest times.” Her voice was high pitched, unnatural; it was everything she could do not to hang up on the poor man. “Back to the protocol, sir--have you used it to communicate with your em
ployees?”
“Every day this week.” More ice. She could feel the cool water dripping down her inner thighs, flickering along her skin like a slow fire.
“Were there any delays in response, any lack of clarity, any--” She bit her lip to quiet the moan as Yamamoto slid more ice inside her, his thumb pressing down as if to hold her still. Lisa knew she’d earned another slap, and sure enough, it crackled through the air again. Her head rocked back as she fought off the orgasm a second time. “Sorry about that printer, Mr. McMillen, we’ve called the repairman twice... Any lack of clarity, any accidental disconnections?” Lisa’s elbows buckled and her nipples dragged with exquisite pain across the surface of the desk--SMACK! She popped back up again, trying not to buck into Yamamoto’s hand and force his teasing fingers inside both her holes.
“Not so far. Everything looks good on our end.”
Suddenly, the rough fingertips were gone. Lisa’s skin erupted in electric tingles as something hot and wet probed her drenched pussy. A low moan rumbled in her throat, and she bit it back; Yamamoto’s steady hand landed one more time. “Thank you, haveagreatday,” Lisa spat out, slamming the receiver down and arching into the source of her pleasure. Yamamoto’s hands ensnared her waist and pulled her roughly towards his tongue, sinking it as deep as possible in the tight center of her body; her clit throbbed as his chin brushed against it, but he suddenly withdrew.
“You’ve got more calls to make, Ms. Tyrell,” he said softly. Lisa twisted to beg him.
“Please don’t make me, sir,” she whispered, “please, I can’t. I’ll be fired.”
“Are you begging, Lisa?” His hand gripped the meat of her ass in a tight fist as his other hand slipped under and flicked one of the clips gripping her nipple. She gasped. “I’m not convinced.” His eyes were like twin beacons, two merciless suns boring in to her.
“Please, please sir,” Lisa said, shivering; she knew her body was on the precipice. Yamamoto stroked her asshole with his thumb, hunger painted all over his face.
“You can try and convince me,” he said slowly, and gently pressed his thumb into the tight flesh. He didn’t enter her, so much as separate the skin, open it. She flushed with fear and a shock of unexpected pleasure; another inch, and she’d be done. “Try.”
“Please,” she begged, letting herself sound totally, utterly desperate. He licked his lips, and she knew this was what he wanted. “Please, please sir, please don’t make me.” His face disappeared, and she let her body unwind and face forward just as she felt his tongue reach her inner lips. “Please, Mr. Yamamoto--please--please--” She began to plead incoherently as he lapped at her, his tongue tasting all the dampness from the ice, stoking a fiercer heat than ever before. When his lips latched onto her clit, her elbows buckled again; when they seized and held it as his tongue pummeled relentlessly, she knew she was done. Lisa grabbed the apple and shoved it between her teeth, feeling the sounds erupting from her before she heard them as they rode her orgasm out of her body. Wave after wave of ecstasy thrilled through her, her pussy squeezing Yamamoto’s tongue greedily as his hands held her captive to his attention. He didn’t stop licking her lips until she was flat on her belly, helpless from coming so hard. Gently, he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the loveseat, pulled the clips from her nipples, stroked the hair from her face. She felt him brush his lips across her collarbones, her throat; she heard him whisper that she’d been good in her ear, and the heat from his breath made her sigh. His hands soothed her, running lightly across her belly, her thighs. It felt natural to be naked in his lap, once again, utterly vulnerable and satisfied as the aftershocks of her orgasm slowly ebbed away. Lisa threw away her shame and curled into his chest, inhaling; Yamamoto held her tightly for a long while, his face buried in her hair.
She let herself enjoy this time, most of all; she let herself keep it, expecting him to move away, but he never did. At five o’clock, Lisa knew the end had come.
“Sir,” she finally said, unable to pull herself away. “I have to tender my resignation.” She couldn’t help it; a sudden sob choked her and Lisa sat up and slid away from him on the couch. “I can’t… I can’t do this any more, sir,” she whispered.
He seemed stunned. “Lisa, why?” Yamamoto sprang off of the couch and knelt in front of her, and the desperation on his face only hurt her more; as she felt his hands clasp hers, Lisa had to look away. Her nakedness seemed like an awful reproach to her, now that the sweetness moments ago had to be cast aside. She choked down her tears. “Lisa, please look at me,” he pleaded, and only the shock of hearing him sound this way turned her head. The fire in his eyes was out. It was terrible to see. “Please, I promise I will never touch you again.” He ripped his hands away. “I will—I can’t take back what’s happened, but I would—is there anything, anything I can give you—“
“—No, sir,” Lisa said. The thrill of his touch still wasn’t gone; his warm hands on hers had felt like heaven, and she forced herself to concentrate. “It’s just… I can’t do this job. I can’t do the job you’ve hired me to do.”
“Of course not,” he said, as if he were talking to himself. “Of course you can’t.” He abrupty rose from the floor and began to pace in front of her, furious with himself. “It’s impossible—you were meant to parse my needs with regard to my conduct towards you, correct? Those were the very clever words you used?” Lisa nodded. “Yes.” He laughed—a horrible, bitter sound, nothing like the genuine article from before. “An impossible task.” He knelt in front of her again. “Lisa, I can only beg you to forgive me. Please. I didn’t know—I didn’t know how bad I had become. There is nothing that I say to you, that I think about you, that is not twisted in some way by my mind. Everything, every miniscule objection—your clothing, too tight, too much—how can I work, with you glittering in front of me? How can I work when what I want is to taste you, all day, every day, every moment? Please forgive me—I knew that I was a desperate, lonely creature, but I did not know how much of a fiend I had become.” She realized there were tears in his eyes, and this frightened her more than anything else. “I would gladly give you anything you ask, but please don’t leave. Please.”
“I can’t do this, sir,” she whispered. “I can’t be your whore.”
“My—my what?” His lip trembled. “Oh no, oh now I understand… Of course, I’m such a fool, I thought—no matter.” He sprang up and took several steps back from her. “After these terrible rumors you’ve been battling, I’ve put you in a position that… I understand what I’ve done now. Please—I never saw it—I never wanted to see it that way,” he said, his voice a heartbreaking attempt at his old professionalism. Yamamoto took two more steps backward, his chest still, as if he were afraid to breath.
“That’s not exactly what they said,” Lisa told him. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she sat on the couch, her arms clutched around her. “They called it a crush.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “Just a crush, sir.” She angrily wiped them away. “But they didn’t do this, I—“
“--That’s a very crude interpretation,” Yamamoto said coldly. “But fitting, considering the source.” He turned his back to her, leaning his hands on his desk. “How strange that they manage any perception at all regarding me, yet never understood your worth.”
Lisa absorbed what he said; she couldn’t be hearing him right. “Sir? What do you mean?”
“I mean, ‘having a crush’ is a painfully rudimentary version…” Lisa stood up, her heart pounding. Was he insulting her? Or was this something else? He spun around when he heard the rustle from the couch, and his eyes were once again the startling fire lit color she knew so well. “I don’t have a crush on you, Lisa.” Her heart sank, her breath stilled in her chest. She was a fool, such a fool…
“I know, sir, that’s part of the problem, sir—“ No. Don’t tell him. Just get dressed, and run. Run—
“I’m in love with you,” he said, the knuckles of his hands white as snow. “I’
ve been in love with you for at least three years. It may have happened immediately—who can know?” His shoulders relaxed, as if being able to say it out loud was releasing him from the talons of some darkness she couldn’t see. “I feel you are the most brilliant, regal woman I have ever known—the rarest, most precious gem in my life.” Lisa couldn’t move. Her knees locked, and her hand involuntarily clapped over her mouth. Mistaking her reaction as dismay, Mr. Yamamoto merely nodded, then walked over to his wall of windows. “When I see you… I don’t only see you. I see ecstasy. I see fervor. I understand why men have fought with blood and time and everything they have, why they sacrifice worlds, all for love. When I see you,” he said sadly, “I know the closest I can come is begging for stolen minutes, in a forbidden whisper. I love you. I beg you, once again—I will never touch you, never, but please… Do not leave me.”
“Sir…” Lisa felt the tears slipping down her face, but she didn’t try to stop them this time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m a monster,” he said, staring out at the sky. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve to think about you this way, but I can’t help myself—I can’t stop myself. As you now know.” He paused, gathering his breath. “When this began, I thought, she’ll tear this part out of me, and I will be able to keep her in my life in this small way. The only way I can—as my secretary. When you said you were going to quit three days ago—“ His eyes crunched shut for a moment before he could continue. “I knew you were right to want to quit, more than even you. And your requests were so simple—what say should I have in what you wear? But I can’t focus—when you wear red, your skin shines so…Your legs tapering in your high heels, the tailoring of your skirts… You dressed like a nun, and still drove me mad. But it’s not appropriate. It’s not right. You would berate me, regard me with disgust, and it would kill some of it, slowly, until I could be tolerable to you again.” He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “When you… When you responded differently, I tricked myself into believing… I thought my prayers were finally answered, but I was too afraid to believe you would ever consent to… To my personal attention. So I kept it here. Professional.” He sneered at his reflection in the glass. “And in so doing, have made you feel degraded, and driven you away.”