by L M Lovett
He pulls out of my mouth and I whimper as the spell is lifted. “Tap on my hand if it’s too much” and I feel a wave of tenderness for this stern, domineering, and sweet man. I feel a fervent desire to prove to him that I can take it.
“Who do you belong to?”
I look up at him longingly.
“You, I belong to you.”
He gives me a fleeting smile and I notice the faint dimple on his left cheek. I gasp his unexpected beauty and then without warning he jams himself into my mouth again. I moan. I start to lick him in an unexperienced, eager way, as if his member is ice cream melting in my mouth. He chuckles and then combs his fingers through my hair. “Not like that, my angel. Just relax and let me use you.”
Something unfurls and softens when he calls me his angel.
I could stay like this forever.
I moan my assent and then he starts to thrust. My eyes are watering and my jaw starts to ache, but the pleasure of serving him overrides everything.
“Good girl,” he croons.
I moan some more and his pace increases. My world narrows until I can only feel the sensation of his smooth cock gliding deeper into my mouth. He is everywhere, everything. He groans and laughs with delight and cups the back of my head even closer to him than I could have imagined, until it’s his cock and my mouth, melding together. In and out. In and out. I choke some more and by now my wetness is dripping down my thighs.
His movements grow sharper and more erratic and I feel a thrum of satisfaction at my ability to have Mr. Price lose control.
“It’s time for your reward now.” I’m shocked when I feel the warmth of his cum shoot into my mouth. I moan when I taste his saltiness inside me. He gives a satisfied grunt and then pulls out. I am already missing him in my mouth when he grabs my cheeks and opens my mouth so that cum – my boss’s cum – spills out. He is smirking now and starts to paint my mouth and my cheeks with his cum, marking me as his.
“This is something you will do for me every day,” he hisses at me and even my toes curl with pleasure. Even though I haven’t feel my release, I shudder and my shoulders drop with pleasure.
Ten
David
I gaze down incredulously at this beautiful, soft, yielding woman whose mouth feels like heaven. She’s the complete package. She’s already killing me, this girl.
For what feels like the first time in months, my mind is clear.
Life is simple.
I want Maribel and she wants me.
And I will have her.
I had trusted that she would still be in the office. If she felt the same as me, she would still be hoping to finish what we started.
As soon as I saw her siting there, I knew I had to see this through.
It was either finishing what we started, or perish.
I admire the sight of my cum on her beautiful face and my primal self gives a guttural roar of triumph.
But there is also understanding here too. I had told myself I needed to succumb to my lust so I could conquer my feelings and move on.
I know now I was lying to myself.
This can’t be enough. The dam has broken and I’m flooded with hunger.
I know now that I can’t have enough.
This will be a compulsion that burns and drags me all the way to hell if it comes to it.
It was a fluke really that I had took her package earlier. I was pacing around the office, angry and frustrated with my inaction, when I saw her name in the mailroom. I knew she was still at her desk, because I had walked by earlier.
So I didn’t spare a thought in taking her package to my office. I had expected another long-winded book, but instead I found the flimsiest, tinniest set of lingerie. I almost came right then and there, imaging shy Maribel wearing such a raunchy set. Her lingerie even looked girlish and innocent – at least I realized that it was completely sheer.
I had stumbled back into my office and jerked off to my fist, the fabric tight around my cock, like a horny 15-year-old. I bet she was wearing something risqué today. That she had been wearing it, waiting for me to discover her earlier, and I had let her go.
I was unable to resist her anymore.
I didn’t want to be a cliché (although, at least she wasn’t my secretary). I didn’t want to take this young girl and use her and wake up the next day, heart twisted and uneasy. I didn’t want to give her power over me. I didn’t want to yoke the wellbeing of my company to my baser desires. I didn’t want to give her leverage to use over me – a lawsuit, gossip, anything. But I had to acquiesce.
So I threw caution to the wind.
Ordered her back to my office, knowing she would follow.
And Maribel was game - willing, innocent, and perfect.
The protective instinct I didn’t know I had burned bright when she told me she lived somewhere unsafe. I wanted to roar with anger, that this precious angel had been living in squalor while I had gone home to an empty mansion each night.
I vowed to fix this – she was mine now.
And then the innocent, easy way she sucked me off in my office. So eager to please and primed for my pleasure – the way her unexperienced tongue worshiped my cock.
I would be her first and only.
That possessive thought sent a rush of blood to my spent cock and I feel myself harden again.
She looks up at me eagerly, innocently rubbing her thighs together with her want. I’m delighted that she stayed on her knees, not knowing how to initiate the next steps.
“Good girl.” I gesture for her to follow me to my couch. I don’t even put my pants back on. She is still in her joke of a bodysuit. A suit was merino wool or Italian silk, not this flimsy thing that would tear with one swipe.
I spin her around and place her directly on my cock. I admire the view – her firm ass, swathed in lace. I realize that she has the most alluring cutout revealing the curve of her behind.
I start to massage her ass and my cock stiffens. She mews and clumsily starts to rub herself against me.
I know the answer deep in my bones but I needed her hear her say it.
“Are you a virgin, my sweet?”
She whispers, “yes.”
I smile darkly.
“Have you ever tasted cum, princess?”
Another hesitant, whispered, “no.”
I have to ask. “Are you on birth control?”
“Yes,” she says shyly, “an IUD.”
The possessive urge flares again, but I quell it. This protection is good. There will be a time – soon – when I will plant my seed in her womb, have her belly grow heavy with the evidence of us, until she is ripe and ready to pop.
But today, I need to claim her fully. Then I can get to the business of making her mine in the eyes of the law.
My hand reaches down and clasps her pussy. I nudge the opening of her bodysuit aside, until I feel that first, intoxicating brush of her wet pussy lips. Her satiny skin takes my breath away. Mine.
I lick my fingers clean, reveling in the taste of her salty, sweet scent of herself. I want to taste her some more. I want to circle her pussy with my mouth until she screams without inhibition. But my cock is straining beyond belief and I know I need to get her virgin cunt ready for me.
“I am going to finger fuck you now. Do you fuck yourself with your fingers, my greedy Maribel?”
“No, sir. I just play with my clit until I cum.” I tense at the image and my cock rocks against her.
I push one of my fingers inside of her wet cunt and then another. I feel her muscles flex and soften against my intrusion. She’s tight but needy.
I bring her to the edge of orgasm with my fingers, until Maribel loses all self-control. She is writhing against my lap, wiggling her cunt against my impossibly hard cock. Maribel eagerly thrusts down on my fingers and I know she is ready for her release.
“Beg for it,” I whisper into her ear and I feel her shudder.
“Please, sir.”
“Please what.”
I continue to pump my fingers into her pussy as she gushes around me.
“Fuck me. Take my virginity. Put your cock in my pussy. Dominate me.”
She is helpless with desire, pink checked and hopelessly beautiful like this.
It must be the sadist in me but I decide against taking her fully. I want to admire her beauty in my sheets, not in the office. The pleasure will be even more sweeter for the waiting.
So instead of succumbing to my intense urge to possess her fully, I guide her hand towards my cock and have her finish me with a couple of eager glides of her hand. I cum on her belly and let my pearly fluids drip down her, saturating her with evidence of my desire.
I kiss her forehead, her temple, her ripe mouth. I’ve waited for months. My cock can wait a couple more hours to possess her pussy.
I worship her breasts, the nape of her neck, and anywhere I can put my mouth to.
I thought I could extinguish the fire of my obsession by conquering her body.
Instead, I’m in deeper than ever before.
I won’t ever let her go.
She will be mine.
Eleven
Maribel
I’m so satiated that I hardly notice once Mr. Price (dare I call him David) starts to clean me up. He strokes my hair and I feel a wave of pleasure to know that he desires me. Twenty-four hours ago, I could have never imagined my hot, domineering billionaire boss punishing and rewarding me in his office.
Little jolts of pleasure still reverberate through my body and I already am longing for the next time. Will there be a next time? He was so tender, thoughtful, and delicious.
But now he isn’t meeting my eyes. I want to finish what we started and please him again.
The air suddenly feels so charged with tension I try to defuse it, saying cheekily, “am I dismissed, sir?”
There is a question underneath that – do you still want me?
He looks more stern than ever. He doesn’t answer and the seconds tick by.
I hurriedly zip up my skirt, put my blouse back on, and step back into my heels. I try to tidy my hair. My face and entire body is flushed.
I’m flooded with doubts and insecurities. I’m not model. Was this just an unthinking fuck? Does he do this every day?
Before I reach the door, he’s on me again. He pulls me close and I inhale his masculine, spicy scent. His scent relaxes me. He is so tall that my head doesn’t reach his chin. I feel protected and safe until I remember this tenuous situation. I start to pull away to leave and he holds me tighter.
“Maribel, I…” he trails off. “I don’t want you thinking that I’m some kind of lecherous boss. I’m not in the habit of being intimate with employees.”
I start to soften despite my raging doubts.
He looks at me with a clear, soft expression on his face. I realize that I was so wrapped up in my own insecurities that I couldn’t even imagine that he had been uneasy about the aftermath of this.
“I chose this, David.” It feels right to call him by his first name.
“Maribel, I know this is crazy, but I need you by my side. I need to finish what we started. Do you understand?”
It’s crazy, but I can’t imagine being apart of him. I can’t imagine turning away from this passionate path. I have to set aside questions of the future beyond these next couple of days. If that’s all we have then I will take it. Already my arousal is tightening until I feel a string of desire reverberating throughout my entire body.
His voice deepens. He speaks like he is addressing an all staff meeting, a tone that is so confident and domineering that everyone has no choice but to agree.
“I’m going have my driver take you to your apartment. You will pack up what you need. And then I will meet you at my home, where I will finish what I started. You will be available to me. 24/7.”
My mind swirls with unanswered questions. This offer changes everything. I know that walking away from him is not an option. My pussy is already starting to warm from our embrace and his firm, possessive tone.
The air in the room heats up. David chuckles softly. “I want you but I will exercise every bit of self control and hold off. You’re new to this and I need to break you into it.”
His voice lulls me into complacency and suddenly everything seems so simple.
I nod determinedly, not wanting to be the one to break the embrace.
He sighs regretfully and then steps away and I hear him call his driver.
My entire body flushes with longing. As if reading my mind, he pulls me to his lap, stroking my shoulders, massaging my back, showering my neck with kisses while we wait.
He sighs again at the knock of the door. He whispers huskily, “you’re mine. Don’t forget it, don’t do anything to go against my orders. I’m letting you get your things. This is a privilege. I will buy you anything you need. But I want you to feel comfortable.”
“Yes, sir.” Once again, I am touched by his core of sweetness. He smiles and I am rewarded by the sight of his slight dimple.
I’m lost in my thoughts and daydreams on the drive to my home. I notice the driver, Todd, gaze at me thoughtfully through the rearview mirror, but I’m in a daze, past the point of self-consciousness.
When we arrive, Todd tells me he will wait outside my door and help me carry my things downstairs to the car. I take in my small, dingy apartment and the contrast between David’s sleek and polished life.
There isn’t much to pack. Somehow using a backpack feels less presumptuous than bringing a suitcase to a mansion. I toss a couple of my lingerie pieces inside a backpack and grab my Kindle, some tea, and clothing.
I also grab my most precious possession – a photo of my mamá – from my ofrenda. My altar is small and compact, comprised of only cheerful orange marigolds and this precious photo. My mother’s face is serious and beautiful; her expressive eyes are full of warmth even in the photo. She passed away five years ago.
Regret swells as I imagine, as I have done countless times, how things would be different if she hadn’t passed on so unexpectedly. After her death, I was devastated and alone. I wasn’t on the lease with her, so I ended up losing rent control and having to leave my childhood home in the Mission District. I tried everything to stay afloat, sacrificing sleep, friends, and an identity to pursue and finish my college degree. But even after all of my sacrifices, I could barely find a job after graduation. Instead I suffered with dead end jobs in retail until I finally landed my current job as a customer happiness rep. It isn’t my dream job, but I at least I’m making enough to support myself.
I look around and realize just how depressing my apartment is. I finally got a full-time job but I’ve never planted down roots here. Growing up, our home was filled with light and love. Our apartment was teaming with plants, the smell of good cooking, and the bustle of visitors. My mamá was well known in the neighborhood and we regularly had visitors drop by. She was respected as an incredible educator and mentor to the young people of the Mission.
By contrast, I’ve never had anyone over here. I’ve spent so many lonely nights here, my only companion books on my Kindle, trying and failing to move on with my life.
Today was a fantasy come to life. Although David satisfied my body in a way I could have never imagined, I’ve been longing for a deep connection with someone my entire adult life. And I want to have this connection with him. As lustful as I was, what I long for most is kinship.
I exhale heavily. I could leave. I could refuse. I could lock the door and quit my job. I could run away and disappear. But the ache between my legs, the heaviness of my breasts, and most of all the scent of him still on me is an unbreakable thread. I am tethered to him. I crave every part of him.
And I hope – I am starting to hope – he could feel the same way about me.
Todd doesn’t seem surprised when I leave the apartment with only a backpack. A flash of jealously descends and I wonder if he’s used to seeing the evidence of David’s possessiveness.
I
get back into the car and we drive back into the city. We drive through Golden Gate Park, and pass by the Conservatory of Flowers – my favorite building in San Francisco – and I gaze with happiness, as always, at the white-washed, ornate, Victorian style greenhouse. The Conservatory is lit up at night, blazing with colors. I see the world outside around me with fresh eyes, breathing in deeply as I revel in the beauty of the city.
I’m not surprised, really, when we pull up to a nondescript perimeter wall in Seacliff, one of San Francisco’s ritziest, most exclusive neighborhoods. In a city as densely population as San Francisco, where the average home price is over $1 million, it’s rare enough for anyone to even have a house. The only person I know who owns a house is my Tía Rosalía, who I realize, with a stab of guilt, would be beyond herself if I told her about this new man.
I’m curious when I take in the relatively modest brown-shingled exterior once we pass through the imposing gates. The home is beautiful, but not gaudy in the way I’ve seen mega mansions on television. The exterior of the home is stately and grand. I guess that the building is at least five stories. As I step outside of the car, I inhale deeply, smelling the coastal sage, the eucalyptus, and tang of the nearby ocean.
This is what David smells like.
Todd walks me inside to the house and gestures for me to follow. I pass through a sophisticated foyer, state of the art kitchen, and then up a flight of stairs to a bedroom that is larger than I can make sense of. Todd’s face is impassive but I see a flicker of curiosity when he tells me to make myself comfortable. And then, his face opens up for a moment and he says, “welcome.” He leaves me alone with my thoughts.
I wander through the bedroom. There is so little evidence of David. What does he like? There are no pictures on the walls. In contrast to my crowded apartment, there are no books. Everything is orderly and neat.
