by Jamie Knight
I came in a gush, doing my best to catch it all in a wad of tissue, which was not unlike trying to stop a river with a mop. Getting cleaned up, I went out into the main room. The real Emma was already there, sitting at the table again, legs crossed, back straight, eyes clear, and ready for anything.
Or so she thought. I wanted her so much. If I could, I would have taken her right there on the table, but I knew that could very well be the end of my career. That side of things would have to stay in the realm of fantasy.
Chapter Three
Emma
I hadn’t seen him when I came back with my stuff. I figured he must be in the bathroom, or at the vending machine, or something, so I just sat back at the table and decided to wait. There were still lots of minibar goodies to be eaten, so I was set.
I had never been to a hotel so nice. The only places I had ever stayed as a kid were motels along the interstate, the kind of places that usually catered to long-haul truckers and drunk teenagers from town. My daddy was the former and had been the latter, so he felt right at home there. I just hadn’t known any other life.
It was the same with my hometown. I’d heard the stories of the big city, and I knew a fair few kids who dreamed of going there, of ‘getting out,’ as they called it. I never really felt like that. I guess it helped that we didn’t have a TV or Internet. Mama wouldn’t allow it. Said it brought the Devil in.
When I was a teenager, though, my Daddy got me a smartphone, for emergencies, and to give me a small taste of normalcy.
It was like a piece of alien technology. A treasure, and my own little secret.
But the tempting lure of technology had sucked me in, and before long, I’d fallen down the rabbit hole of the internet.
And one little pop-up had stirred a whole new awakening..
Daddy never found out what I had done, which was lucky, because if he’d told my mama, I would have really been really in for it.
For days after seeing the videos, I would think about them. They didn’t seem so bad, the way I remembered them. Pretty soon, I started to get pretty excited and would touch myself down there, gently rubbing my pussy as I remembered them. The incident with the phone when I was 15 was pretty much my sexual awakening, not just in terms of sexual feelings in general, but also realizing that I was ‘kinky.’
I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about being dominated, about not being in control, that made me really horny; my pussy would get dripping wet and I couldn’t help but touch myself.
I had seen Damien my first day at the firm. I didn't know his name then, of course, but seeing him had really cheered me up. I hadn’t had an easy time of it, coming in from Wyoming, with the airlines being their usual charming selves. I also hadn’t realized how difficult getting a taxi in the city was, or how expensive; the fare into town was more than half of the money I had brought with me.
All the stress melted away when I saw him. It seemed silly, but I could almost feel the charm coming off of him. His handsome face and perfect body didn’t hurt, of course, but there was something else about him, something that made me feel safe – as well as super aroused. I knew I wanted to give up control to someone, to be dominated, and I knew right then that I wanted him to be the one to do it.
Not that he knew that I was alive, of course. He was a top-level corporate attorney and I was just an assistant, fresh off the plane from the middle of nowhere. We also worked on different floors and in different departments. They had put me in with the family law gang with a nice enough woman named Sheri.
I had suffered in silence for months, fantasizing that, one day, Damien would notice me and sweep me off my feet. A silly, girlish fantasy, I knew, but I could still dream.
When I heard about the assignment to be quarantined in the hotel, it seemed like a miracle. There was no guarantee that I would be assigned to Damien; there were lots of lawyers who needed assistants, as most of them were opting to continue to work during the lockdown. Putting my nerves aside, I entered my name for the volunteer pool.
I damn near fainted when they told me I had been assigned to Damien, and that we would be staying at the Hotel Seventy. It was the kind of place I couldn’t even dream of staying at on my salary. It was all so amazing; I could hardly contain myself.
I actually slipped up containing it here and there, like the sound I’d made when Damien said I could raid his minibar. I blushed in retrospect, but, to be fair, I had barely ever even seen a minibar before, let alone allowed free run of one that someone else was paying for. It was like giving a kid a shopping spree in a candy store.
He still hadn’t come out when I finished the last bit of the snacks. With nothing to distract myself, the throbbing in my pussy became a lot more pronounced. I did my best to ignore it. I thought about other things. I tried doing the alphabet backwards. It worked, for a while, but then I would hear it.
I was pretty sure what Damien was doing in the bathroom, and wondering if he was thinking about me. Imagining he was, at any rate. Before I really knew what was happening, my hand was up my skirt and slipping into my panties.
The first touch made me jump. My arousal was at full intensity, my pussy aching for stimulation. I, of course, would have preferred Damien’s tongue. That wasn’t going to be happening, though, so I would have to do it myself.
I put my hand back down in there, just hoping he wouldn’t catch me. I gently petted my tender pussy, sending waves of pleasure rippling through me. Letting go, I let my mind drift to wherever it wanted to be.
I was on my knees, the cool, smooth floor beneath me. My hands were behind my back, masterfully tied with silk ropes. My feet were crossed at the ankles and tied in the same manner with the same rope. Damien was siting in front of me, completely naked, like I was. I could see every inch of him, every well-defined muscle. He looked like a marble statue come to life.
Except for his cock. His big, beautiful cock, standing at full attention, inches from my mouth, which was busy sucking his balls. It took one at a time, each being nearly too big by itself to fit in my little mouth. I started out by gently licking them, with long, loving caresses, before taking the first in my mouth. He let out a moan and I kept going, sucking gently. If I had my hands free, I would have stroked his beautiful cock while sucking his balls. My master wanted them tied, though, and what my master wanted, he got.
Giving his other ball a good seeing to, I started to lick, running my tongue down the length of his shaft, from bottom to top, spiralling my tongue around his head.
“Suck,” he ordered.
Like the good little pet I was, I followed my sexy master’s instruction and dropped my whole mouth down his shaft until I had half-swallowed his wonderful cock. Easing back a bit so I wouldn’t gag myself, I started sucking on my wonderful master’s beautiful cock, working his tasty cum up into my eager mouth.
His load came in a massive torrent, like the spray of a fire hose; it was something of a challenge to keep it all in my mouth, yet still I prevailed, refusing to be defeated or let my master down.
I came in real life, still imagining Damien’s perfect body. I wanted him all to myself. I wanted him to take me. To take my virginity and give me all the pleasures of womanhood. I wanted to be dominated. To be his.
I wonder if it might happen during the assignment, if the crackling sexual tension between us might come to a head and explode in delicious pleasure for both of us. My rational mind told me not to be silly; he was my boss and off limits, though I found myself not actually caring very much. This realization was followed by the decision to seduce him and make him mine.
I heard the click of the door handle and jumped up like it was a starter pistol, getting into my best approximation of a professional posture.
Chapter Four
Damien
It was a beautiful sort of torture. Emma’s clothes were doing as much to accentuate her form as to conceal it. I wondered, however briefly, if it had been intentional. What seemed more likely was tha
t she was going by what she was told in the corporate environment; not from her employers or the official company dress code, but from what she saw in the media.
She certainly wasn’t the only one. If not for their haircuts and briefcases, most of my male colleagues at the firm would be more or less interchangeable. Their clothes, and even mannerisms, made them clones of each other, all of them doing what they thought they were supposed to.
It made me stand out more, though I didn’t go completely off the reservation. No paisley shirts or plaid pants; my style was, if anything, more traditional. The difference between myself and my contemporaries was they went for a distinctly modern version of “tradition,” filtered through decades of changes. My style was straight out of the 1940s and wouldn’t garner a second look on the Oxbridge campuses.
I gave Emma the basics of the case we would be working on, after she signed the requisite non-disclosure agreements, of course. Our client was an online streaming service who were claiming their shows were being copied by a rival service that only slightly tweaked existing properties.
My first thought was fair use, but the more I looked, the more it looked like they had a case: Entire plots were being copied with few, tiny changes, with no obvious satire or commentary present. To make the deal sweeter, the defendants were connected with a number of marketing scams, basically telling people to send them money for bullshit services; a basic snake oil scheme. The company also had extremely deep pockets. They would hire their own lawyers of course. Several of them, probably.
Too bad it would all be for naught, with the defendants losing not only a large chunk of their ill-gotten fortune, but also one of their main sources of continued income, if the cease and desist orders held. And this case could open the door to more against them, as I’m sure my clients weren’t the only ones being ripped off.
I forced myself into a business-like state of mind, ignoring Emma’s luscious sexiness as much as was realistically possible. I threw myself into work. I had found out several years before that I could only focus on one thing at a time, which was both a blessing and a curse, getting me through law school with honors at an unusually young age, but also making me forget to eat to the point I got headaches. That problem was solved with the invention of an ordering app that let me set up regular deliveries.
“That’s not allowed?” Emma asked, when I had explained the case.
“It’s tricky. The basis of the whole thing is what is called ‘transformation.’ Basically, it is fine for people to come up with similar ideas. That happens all the time.”
“There’s nothing new under the sun.”
“Exactly. Nothing really new, anyway. The difference between an invention, an innovation, and an improvement is subtle, but extremely important. Intent is also important,” It takes a tremendous amount of effort to focus on the words and not Emma herself.
“If something is clearly a joke, it’s fine. Or if a protected work is used only in part, such as an excerpt in a review, removed from its original context, that’s also fine. It’s when something is basically taken wholesale, with minimal changes or re-contextualization, that there is trouble.”
“So it’s the difference between writing “Jerry Kotter” and claiming it’s your own work or making something that’s an outright parody of Harry Potter?” she asked.
“Exactly,” I laughed.
We buried ourselves in work, the sexual tension easing somewhat as the night went on. Emma really was a help, despite her somewhat tenuous grasp of the subject, at least initially. She did learn really fast. The work mostly involved a preliminary document review, which entailed reading through hard copies of the shooting scripts from both studios, highlighting identical lines.
After about eight hours of deep labor, Emma started to stretch, arching her back in such a way as to make her already big tits even more pronounced. I kept my head down, literally and figuratively, focusing on the work, despite the swelling occurring in my pants.
“Tired?” I asked.
“Sorry, sir,” Emma said, quickly righting herself.
“It’s fine. It’s been a long day. Maybe it’s time we both turned in.”
“Okay,” she said, sweetly docile.
I wondered again what it would be like to have her be my sub. She seemed naturally obedient and more than willing to do what she was told. I had a pretty eclectic taste in women, having sampled very widely, but there were few things that got to me like a sweet, obedient, good girl. Her cute accent didn’t hurt, either.
Waiting until she was safely in her room, I got ready for bed myself, stripping down to silk boxer shorts before slipping under the heavy, cream-white duvet. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to get Emma out of my mind. I needed to keep things professional with her, not only because to not do so would cause trouble at work, but because she was also the best assistant I’d ever had, or, at least, the first I’d ever had helping me directly with my work.
I’d always considered myself a solo operation, not really considering an assistant or how they could help. My colleagues would talk about their assistants, who they couldn’t get by without; I had never really appreciated what they meant until that night. Forcing my mind to go blank, I tried to get some sleep so we could get back to work in the morning. At least, that was the plan.
I thought I was dreaming at first, being right on the border between sleep and waking. The knocks came again, bringing me to full consciousness. Emerging from bed, I made my way through the dark to the light switch, shedding light on the situation before I opened the adjoining door. Emma was naked, except for the robe that came with the room.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she said, looking at the floor.
“What’s the problem?”
“I-I can’t sleep.”
“Would you like some help getting to sleep?”
“Yes, sir. Whatever you think is best. I want to make sure I’m rested, so I can help with the work. I will do anything you say.”
She was offering. I hadn’t been sure at first, but Emma was offering to let me have control. My instincts were right. She was a submissive and wanted to give me control. There would still be issues with taking our relationship to that level, though with the fact that she had said she explicitly wanted it, my mind was a lot more at ease.
I was still a bit unsettled by how much I wanted her, though. I hadn’t ever wanted a woman as much as I wanted her. She did something to me I couldn’t quite define, but nonetheless still felt.
“You have to be naked for the method to work,” I said.
“Yes, sir,” she said, her shaking hands undoing the belt, making the robe hang loose and open before she dropped it.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. She was even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.
“Good girl. I’m glad you are so obedient,” I said.
I saw a little thrill shudder through her and knew we were on the same page. Getting two ties from my drawer, I scooped Emma up into my arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently, I used a tie to secure her hands to the headboard. She remained completely still, letting me do whatever I might.
Using the other tie to blindfold her, I started to touch her, caressing both hands up and down her gorgeous body. I could feel her relaxing under my hands, letting out a soft sigh as her mind and body connected, giving in to me with every fiber of her being.
Stroking her down again, from face to feet, I took her by the ankles, opening her legs wide. I had to take a moment, stunned by the striking, luscious beauty of her tight pink pussy. Pulling myself together, I kissed my way up her legs, keeping a tight hold of them to keep her from moving, not that she seemed likely to. She really was a perfect little sub.
Working my way up to her pussy, I gave her a long, soft lick, caressing the flat of my tongue along her delicate pussy lips, making her moan long and deep. Trusting her not to move, I used one of my hands to cover her mouth, keeping her quiet. She fell silent, her vocalizations reduce
d to surprised, muted simpers and gasps as I buried my face into her pussy and licked her to a massive orgasm. I let calm down, gently stroking her pussy.
“Please,” she begged, “please fuck me. Be my first.”
I could believe it, though I was a bit surprised at first. She seemed so into power exchange, I hadn’t thought she could be a virgin, despite her innocent, docile nature. I had noticed how tight her pussy was when I was licking her.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked, wanting her to say it.
“Yes.”
“Say it,” I said.
“Yes, sir, I am a virgin. Please be my first.”
I was certainly hard from what we were doing, more than ready to grant her wish and take her virginity, even though I knew I should just let it go, end it there and let her go to sleep after feeling so good. I knew it would be next to impossible not to become consumed with her if we fucked, particularly considering it was her first time. I was already falling in love with her.
All great arguments for not doing it. Logical and rational. Too bad I was far too overcome with desire and endorphin highs to pay much attention to either logic or reason.
“I shouldn’t, but you have been such a good girl, I am going to give you what you want. My cock for your very first time.”
Chapter Five
Emma
It was like a dream. I looked for any signs that it was a lucid dream, like ones I had been through before. It wasn’t really that odd of a notion; I really did want Damien so much it hurt, and it was possible that my mind was filling in the gaps in my physical life. I could have still been in my room, in my bed, alone and unbound.
The binds. That was the clincher. I had never been tied up. Certainly not with a silk tie. I had no basis for imagination, particularly not the sort of vivid experience I was having. It was all real.
