by Jamie Knight
“Sorry, Dad. This ‘highfalutin lawyer’ has work to go do.”
I shut the door on him before he has a chance to answer. I get in my car just as quickly, knowing that he’ll be right out the door after me begging and pleading for money. I start my car and head to work.
As I drive, I run through my plan. How exactly I’m going to be with and around Vanacore when I go in this morning. How I’m going to make her think I’ve had a change of heart. I’ll make her think I’m exactly the kind of man she wants — boy toy material — and then I’m going to give her little bits and pieces. Not all of me. That’s for Melissa. For this weekend, when we have our first real date, and she has her first real taste of a real, good boyfriend.
By the time I reach Ms. Vanacore’s area on the top of the McKenzie Tech building, and I’m about to go inside the office I share with her, I’ve run over my plan at least a dozen times. What I’m going to say how I’m going to act, down to the smallest detail. But that doesn’t make me any readier to face her when I open the door.
For a moment, when her eyes bore into me, and she says, “Good morning,” I forget where I’m at and what I’ve just spent so much time rehearsing. But then it clicks in. Just as she’s ordered me into the office, and to close the door.
I make myself obedient and demurely obey her. I make my posture that of a little boy that has just gotten scolded and accepts the scolding. After the door is locked, and I’m in front of her again, I fold my hands in front of myself. I hang my head for good measure. Though I’ve done this around her legitimately for the past two weeks out of respect, I don’t have as much respect for her now as I did then. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“The way you left here on Friday evening, Tommy,” she says. “I don’t approve of it. When I give you the opportunity to do more than what I’ve asked. To go above and beyond the call of duty on certain things, I expect that to happen.”
Underneath these words, I get flashes of me doing more than accepting her kiss. Moaning with pleasure like she imagines I would and should.
She continues, “None of my other boys have ever done what you did. Just walked out without giving me what I want, without giving it your all, especially after the promotion I rewarded you with.”
I don’t like the insinuation she’s put on these words. I don’t like that she’s confirmed part of the conspiracy theory floating around on the legal aid’s floor. That she gave me the job because she wanted me sexually, not simply because I was skilled in my own right. But I let it go uncontested. I’m not here to pick fights with her. I’m here to lull her into a false sense of trust and security. I’m here to make her think I’m just as obedient and pliable — flexible morally and physically — as she is.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pick up her cane again. She fiddles with it, fondling the top of it thoughtfully. “I really don’t like the idea of having to punish you again,” she says, but the glitter in her smile, the hitch in her breath, tells me otherwise. She is more than overjoyed at the possibility. “I don’t like having to be the bad guy here, but I don’t like bad boys, Tommy. And you’re a naughty boy.”
I swallow thickly. Partly as part of my act, and probably because I really am feeling nervous and fidgety. As much as I’ve told myself I’m not, and cannot, be swept in by her, she is a force to be reckoned with.
“Very naughty, in fact. So much so, I’m inclined to believe you made some things up on that resume of yours.” I don’t like this insinuation either, but again, I let it slide. “Someone with such a good track record should be so much more obedient,” she muses, sliding her hand up and down the neck of the cane.
I let her catch me looking warily at the cane. “I am obedient,” I say, using my best take-pity-on-me voice. “I can be, Ms. Vanacore.” I give her the full force of my eyes. I make them big and wet now. Innocent, like a baby buck. “I’m just afraid.” I let her see my eyes move to the cane. I lick my lips, solidifying her impression of me. That she left a lasting one on my backside last time, and I’m afraid of another.
“My father didn’t let me be me, Ms. Vanacore. He beat me. Trying to get me to lose weight, he abused me. Then he sent me to a camp, where they abused me, too.” While getting slammed around by Dad due to my weight is true, and being sent to camp is true, what I say next is purely for Ms. Vanacore’s benefit. To make her feel sorry for me. “I don’t want to disobey or get in trouble. I want to do things with you, but my body won’t let me, Ms. Vanacore.” I swallow thickly. Again, it’s probably my act, and partly the anxiety I’m honestly feeling. “Any time you get close, I just freak out. I’m worrying what HR will do to me if they find out I’m attracted to you.” Here, I bring my eyes down, make myself blush. “That I’m in love with you.” I look up at Ms. Vanacore, seeing exactly what I want to see: that she’s flushed with lust. She’s trembling with excitement. “I want to, but I can’t.” I let myself tremble here.
Here, just as I’ve been hoping, Vanacore lets go of her cane. She sets it against one wall in her office, looking moved and sobered by my admission. “Oh, my poor boy,” she says. She sounds tearful, just like I wanted her to.
So, I put my next plan into action. I go to her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vanacore. I’m sorry for not being the good boy you hired.” I throw my arms around her and smile inwardly as I feel her do the same back to me. She hugs me to her and begins to rock back and forth with me. “I’m sorry I’ve been so bad to you. I’m sorry I’ve been doing such a bad, bad job.” Here, I hug her a little tighter. “Please don’t fire me. Please! I want to do better. I just don’t know how!”
I hear Vanacore give me exactly what I wanted. She gives me a sorrowful, indulgent moan. A “poor sweet baby” type of thing.
“Show me how! Please!” The amount of pitiful begging I put on that would win me an Oscar, I’m sure.
“Of course, of course, my boy,” she murmurs, patting me on the back and kissing me.
I let her kiss my face and my lips a few times before adding. “Slowly, slowly.” I’m drawing a shaking breath, actually feeling like shaking. “Please go slowly, ma’am!”
As I wanted, her eyes light up with predatory glee with what I’ve just called her.
I continue forward, as though the admission leaves me breathless. “I’m going to try my best to serve you and work for you like I promised, Ms. Vanacore, but I can’t do everything the way you want right away!” I forced my mouth into a frown. A wobbling one. “Please don’t get mad at me if I’m not ready for certain things! But please know that I am trying!”
Vanacore sweeps the hair out of my face, actually feeling and looking motherly — gentle and understanding. It almost makes me feel guilty for ever thinking she was and is a predator. But then I remember how hungry she looks behind all of that. How ruthless she looks, and I know I have to do it anyway.
“Oh, don’t worry, my boy. As long as you try. Make yourself available, I’m not going to hold it against you if we don’t move quickly.”
Internally, I high-five myself. For being the one who used to do all the charming around here, Ms. Vanacore seems to be fully charmed by me. She is thoroughly taken in by my story.
“Thank you,” I say, doing my utmost to look grateful and undeserving of her kindness.
To seal the “deal” with her, I plaster my lips on hers. I dart my lips forward and hold the back of her head in the exact same way that she did to me on Friday. I even go so far as to plunge my tongue in her lips and flick it around the roof of her mouth.
As I do, I keep Melissa at the forefront of my mind. I think as loudly and lovingly as I can, I’m doing this for you, Melissa. So, I can be with you legitimately, and so that this company can be free of the dark stain known as Joan Vanacore.
Under these thoughts, I hear Ms. Vanacore moan happily. She sinks under my lips, grasping for a corner of her desk, something to hold her upright.
As she pulls her lips off mine and she says, “What a difference a few days has made in y
ou, boy.” She’s breathless, and I see her rubbing irritably at her crotch. “I like it, and so does my pussy.” Now Ms. Vanacore is the one who’s blushing. “I know you’ve been through a lot around here, Tommy. Now I know, so I won’t ask you to fuck me,” she whispers, unzipping her fly and sliding her pants down her thighs, “but look at me. Tell me how much you love my pussy. How much you would love to fill it. How full you would stuff me.” As she’s talking, she begins to stroke her lower lips.
And I began to do exactly what she’s asked. I talk dirty to her. However, my dick doesn’t respond to her. It doesn’t grow hard because of her. And I know that’s because I’ve got my mind planted firmly on Melissa. On the real times I plan on having with her before making Vanacore believe she’s taking me for all I’m worth and capturing it on video.
Even without an erection, I fain rubbing at my crotch and fidgeting under arousal I don’t have but will need to find out a way to fake. Otherwise, this whole plan is going to do worse than fall flat — it’s going to fail to launch.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Melissa
Though I know my mind should be focused on work — I have been here for almost 3 hours straight — my thoughts are still on the luscious, naughty dream I had last night after hanging up from a phone call with Tommy.
In the dream, he came to my defense on the streets and in court. We were in Paris, touring some beautiful gardens and buildings there while looking at the perfect venue for a wedding when Dennis appears. Dennis and his new girl. Though I couldn’t see his new girl clearly, they both came after me.
They tried to strip me naked and render me worthless in front of Tommy. But that’s when Tommy came to my rescue. He stepped forward and protected me from them. He brawled with them in the streets, before putting them on trial for how shamelessly and completely they took money and dignity from me.
After the part of the dream where he’s going to town on them in court like a regal lion going after his kill and ruling his jungle with an iron fist, we are in a room in a lavish castle. It’s a bedchamber with a huge king-sized bed. It is concealed by curtains and stuffed full of pillows. There are chairs and other pieces of furniture all around, set before big, open windows. Those windows look out over sprawling vineyards and countryside.
But it’s here, on the bed, that Tommy makes me his totally and completely. He ties me to the posts. But he does so with me kneeling, not lying on my back. He’s got silken ropes around my wrists and ankles, and pillows under me, just in case I fall over. He’s got so many, that even if I don’t stay kneeling, my ass is going to be straight up in the air.
After piling the pillows underneath me, he spreads my legs a bit, dribbles some lube he’s warmed up over my pussy and down my folds, fingering it into my hole, and massaging it along my clit. I grind against him as he does, moaning as he spreads my ass cheeks apart, and presses a finger inside of me. Then two. Then three.
I rock against each finger with growing vigor giving growing pleas for more. I don’t remember exactly what I said to him at this moment, but it was something like, “More, sir. Please, sir.”
I push myself into him in this dream, even when he gets up to a whole hand, trying to go into my pussy. I allow him to try to fill me that way. We don’t get too far in this, but he’s happy with me. Tommy is satisfied enough to stroke my clit while he thumbs and fingers my aching, wet pussy. I don’t remember what he says about it, other than it’s nice and pink.
But in the dream, as it is right here and now, it’s enough to make me tremble. I strain against his touch. Except now that “touch” is the confines of my panties. I shift in my seat, wishing for nothing more than for Tommy to come here right now, take me into the bathroom, and take me from behind. Stuffed me full of every inch of him. To go balls deep in me, even if all we have is a bit of spit for lube.
In my head, he’s doing exactly that.
We’ve left the French Castle behind and settled for the bathroom. The private one made for the secretaries so that we don’t have to go far. Coincidentally, it’s the same one I dragged Tommy to on the very first day we met. Now we’re not fixing up his clothes. We’re fixing our naughty little problems. Tommy has a raging erection, and I have a wet, quivering pussy in need of stuffing. I also have ass cheeks in need of a hand to spank them to get me back in line.
I sigh longingly, imagining Tommy reprimanding me in the bathroom. He’s telling me how bad I’m being by not having my mind on work and giving me a rough fuck for it.
In my head, I imagine that I scream out, “Yes, sir! I’m such a bad, bad pet! Punish me!” but outwardly, I can do nothing but fidget. I fuss in my seat and notice Isabella raising her eyebrows at me.
“All right there, Melissa?”
I blush and smile nervously. “Just great,” I say, scolding myself for being so brainless and fantasizing like that at my desk.
“Ooookaaay,” she says, obviously not believing me. She gestures at my headset. “You’re getting a call. It’s blinking. Has been for a good thirty seconds.”
That’s all I need to hear her say. I press the “answer” button on my earphone and do my usual spiel, though part of it is edged with my dream and my fantasy.
The voice I hear is one I’m glad to hear, but not expecting: Tommy.
“Just seeing if I can reach you this way,” he says. “You’ve reached me this way before.” By the way he’s talking, I can tell he’s trying to go under the radar and not be noticed. Which means Vanacore must be nearby. “I wanted to make sure I could do the same.” He pauses. Then I hear Vanacore rattling on to a client about some business or other. She sounds just as arrogant and self-important as I imagined she would. “I made some progress with her. Tell you about it over lunch. Meet me downtown, at Sadie’s. Meet me there in about an hour.” With that, he hangs up.
I hang up too. I turn my chair and see Isabella looking curiously at me.
“Thought this was a pizza place,” I say to her unspoken question.
Isabella just shakes her head, clicks her tongue, and goes to answer her phone.
I do the same in the next second, though this caller isn’t Tommy. The man on the line is calling for Christian, another one of our new additions. I forward the call and count down the next hour.
Whatever progress Tommy made, it must be noteworthy. It’s enough to pull me away from the office. But it’s not the news that I’m looking forward to the most. No, it’s getting to see him with my own eyes and be near him for the first time since we parted on Friday night.
****
At just a few minutes after noon, I arrive at Sadie’s. I spot Tommy immediately. He’s sitting at one of the tables in a corner. It’s not a completely dark corner, not a completely lit one either. Menus and ice waters have already been laid out on the table, as well as silverware. As I take my seat next to him, I immediately feel better than I have all day. I’m more at peace than I have been all morning, though I’m still feeling a little bit horny from my fantasies. I’m a little bit hungry in that way, though I know I can’t and won’t act on them here. We made a vow of celibacy until the weekend, and I’m assuming that will hold true even here.
“I thought we would order before I told you the good news,” says Tommy. He smiles, and I see confidence there. There is calculating cruelty as well, though not toward me. Though some people might see this expression as “dark” and undesirable, it’s delicious to me. It makes me shiver and turn to goo in a way that Dennis’s model-worthy poise could never invoke.
“Sure, sir,” I say, aligning my voice and posture to flirt with him a bit. While he may have said we couldn’t get physical with each other, he didn’t say anything about flirting. “Whatever you’d like to do, we can do.” Covertly, I put a finger on the inside of his arm and start to trace upward. “I’m very good at being…accommodating,” I whisper this word, using it as an excuse to get close to his ear so I can nibble it and kiss it, just as our waitress looms near our table.
“Good afternoon,” she says, forcing me to move away from Tommy and to put on a posture and a mask that says I’m behaving. “Have you had time to look at the menus, or do you need a few moments?”
In all honesty, I would love nothing more than a few more moments alone with Tommy. But Tommy’s not going to give me what I want. Even if we did have alone time, he’d tease me with the fact that we already vowed to save anything like that for the weekend.
“I think we’re ready to order,” says Tommy.
I’m ready for you to order me around. I’m ready for you to have me as your appetizer, I think, but force those thoughts from my mind. But you’ve already told me I’ve got to be patient, so I’ve got to be a good pet for you.
God, I love the idea of being his good pet. Even if it won’t get me as much punishment as I want.
As the waitress takes Tommy’s order of spicy, Caribbean flavored chicken wings and a side salad, I want nothing more than to be able to tell him what I am fantasizing about. How badly I wanted him this morning after my dream, but I don’t know how he’ll react to it. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear about it here.
The waitress asks me for my order before I can make a decision about whether to tell Tommy about my sexy dream and fantasies involving him or not. I give her the same order as I got last time: nachos. For a drink, I order a rum and Coke, knowing I’m not going to get as drunk off those.
When she’s gone, Tommy settles into his seat and says to me, “So, that good progress I was telling you about.” I nod. “I put on this big show of apologizing to Vanacore. Of apologizing for being so distant and hard to get. I told her that it was because of the mistreatment at the hands of my father and a fat camp.” As he says this, my stomach sours. “Not entirely untrue, but not as bad as I made it sound.” I nod, not sure what my feelings are about any of the things I’ve just heard, but not giving myself a moment to figure it out either. “I gave her a big speech about how I can’t stand to get in trouble. I begged for her to give me a chance. To be gentle and slow, and she is right where I want her. Feeling sympathetic and all that.”