by Sky Corgan
“What just happened?” I whisper, gripping onto the counter for support.
I stand there until the smell of burning meat gets me moving again. Crap. Am I ever going to serve Xan a meal that's not messed up in some way? It's not like cooking bacon is rocket science.
Once everything is finished and plated, I head upstairs to retrieve Xan for breakfast. He's dressed in a suit today, and I internally frown at the loss of seeing him shirtless. It's one of the more pleasant things about my job—having a good view. Not that he's not handsome with clothes on. The man exudes sex appeal. I just like to imagine that he's more vulnerable without clothes on—like there are less emotional layers between us. I know it's all in my head, though.
Xan sits across from me and urges me to start eating without him. He has his phone pulled out and is tapping lazily at the screen. “I have a meeting today, so I'll be leaving you here by yourself,” he informs me. “I want you to clean the house in the outfit I picked out for you. I'll give it to you when we go back upstairs.”
I nod in agreement, staring at his untouched plate of food while I scoop up some scrambled eggs with my fork. Xan seems more interested in his phone than in eating. I wonder who he's talking to. Jealousy snakes through me as I think that it might be a woman.
He glances at me over his phone, his expression unreadable. I lower my gaze, feeling like it's rude to be watching him. I lift the fork to my mouth, but it clatters onto my plate along with the bit of eggs as that strange buzzing between my legs starts again. This time, I know I'm not imagining it because my chair makes a noise.
When I look over at Xan, he's got a wicked smirk plastered across his face. His phone is still in his hand, and it only takes me a second to put two and two together. Somehow, he's controlling the plug with his phone, making it vibrate.
“You shouldn't stop eating. You have a long day ahead of you.” He sets his phone down finally and picks up his fork.
The vibrating doesn't stop. I can see the app open on his phone's screen, a giant digital switch set to on with various controls for speed and intensity.
I blush as I try to ignore it, continuing eating as he instructed. I can't decide if I like the sensation or not. It amplifies the soreness between my legs, but it also reminds me of how full I am. Not full enough. The plug is small in comparison to Xan's girth. It feels plastic and unnatural. I long to feel his skin and throbbing need. It takes me back to yesterday—to the hooded look of desire in his eyes. To my fingers in his hair. To his hot breath on my ear as he whispered filthy things to me.
My appetite dissipates as my focus is wrenched away from me. All I can think about is the plug between my legs and my yearning for it to be something more. It's making me embarrassingly wet. I'm worried that when I stand there's going to be a spot on the chair.
“Please stop,” I beg in a small voice.
“Why?” Xan continues to down his meal, amusement plain in his expression.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” I confess. And horny. Really horny. But I suppose that was the point.
“More uncomfortable than you would have felt buying me condoms?” he quips.
I scowl at him, remembering that this is a punishment.
I continue trying to ignore the plug as I scarf down the rest of my food and then watch Xan finish his with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He's really enjoying this. Asshole.
Even when he gets up to return to the office, he doesn't turn the plug off. He simply closes the app and shoves his phone in his pocket before he leaves. Briefly, I wonder if he forgot about it, but I highly doubt that. He's purposely torturing me.
I take our dishes to the sink and wash them in utter sexual agony. Every movement of my hips makes the plug rub against a different place inside of me. To make things worse, he dials up the intensity, and I end up having an orgasm mid-rinse that about brings me to my knees. I quickly set the dish I was working on back in the sink and grip onto the counter while the contractions finish wrecking me. It takes several minutes to regain my composure and complete the job, but somehow I'm able to get through it.
Going upstairs to Xan's office is none the more pleasant. Each step up pulls the plug into a different direction. I'm never happier than when I've made it to his office, hoping that my sentence is almost over.
There's a new outfit laid out for me on the corner of his desk. I wrinkle my nose at it, scoffing internally. Typical male fantasy. The black and white ensemble would have been recognizable a mile away; a French maid costume of sorts.
Except as I get closer I realize there's not much to it. Where's the top? All I see are a skimpy skirt with a garter belt, stockings, and a few frilly accessories.
“Sir,” I say to get his attention. Xan seems intently focused on his computer. His phone is next to his keyboard, the app still open.
“Ah, Christiana.” He looks up at me as if he hadn't expected to see me standing there. “Have you learned your lesson?” He pushes his chair back.
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
“Good. Then come here.” There's no life to his voice. It's as if he's caught up in work or has lost interest in me; I can't really tell which one. Maybe the upcoming meeting has his mind preoccupied.
I round his desk. As soon as I'm in front of him, he grabs me by the hips and turns me around.
“Bend over and place your hands on top of the desk,” he instructs. “And spread your legs.”
I hear his chair give a small sigh as he stands and the wheels roll effortlessly across the hardwood floor away from him. I get into position, placing my hands on either side of his keyboard. As I stare down at it, I take note of how immaculately clean it is. There's not a crumb in sight. No grime on any of the keys. Though some of the letters are nearly worn off from use.
I see Xan's hand move in my peripheral vision. He picks his phone up from the desk, and the buzzing between my legs blessedly stops.
“Did you enjoy your punishment?” he asks in a seductive tone, his fingers circling the globe of my ass. Just his touch ignites something inside of me—the need for more. When I hesitate because I can't decide if the answer is yes or no, I feel a firm slap on my ass. Pain blooms in my backside, the unexpectedness of it causing me to yelp. “I asked you a question.”
“No, sir,” I decide.
“Are you sure?” he hums. “Because I'm pretty sure that when I pull my toy out of you, you're going to be soaked.”
Again, I'm not sure how to respond. I brace myself for another spanking, closing my eyes in anticipation. Instead, I feel Xan's fingers sliding beneath the waistband of the harness.
“Shall we take a look?” he asks before beginning to pull it down.
My pussy clings to the plug, not so much consciously as that the design keeps it well seated. It gives resistance as he begins to pull it out, and I hiss from the soreness, thankful that my self-lubrication has made the extraction more bearable.
As soon as the plug is out, I feel a thick digit take its place. “Definitely soaked.” Another finger comes up beside it, and my breath hitches as Xan stuffs them both into me, feeling my inner walls. “Still sore? The more we do this, the more you'll get used to it.”
I chew my bottom lip as he curls his fingers and pets over the sweet place inside of me that might as well be called the orgasm button. It's torturous how slowly he's moving. Enough to keep me on edge but not enough to allow me to come. I fight the urge to move my hips with him, just wanting release.
“Aren't you a needy girl,” he teases. “You can't even pretend you don't want it anymore.”
That strikes a chord of conflict within me. I don't want it, do I? For him to be touching me like this? We're nothing to each other besides boss and employee. And yet, I can't stop my body from craving him, no matter how sinful it is.
Xan's fingers leave me, and seconds later I hear the deafening sound of a zipper being pulled down. I turn my head to look at him, and he strikes me across the ass again. “Don't look. Don't you fucking tu
rn around,” his tone is oddly menacing.
Not being able to see him, I feel a strange disconnect between us. His cock head nudges between my folds. I close my eyes, longing for release. He teases at my entryway for several moments, swiping his glans between my pussy lips and probing at my opening before finally bucking forward to fill me. My back arches and I shudder from the sensation. Hearing a curse word slip from Xan's lips only heightens my pleasure.
He grips my hips as he begins to thrust. I long to see his face but don't dare turn around. Long to kiss his lips. To thread my fingers into his hair. To feel him writhe on top of me like he did last night. This feels good, too, but it's different; an impersonal way of having sex. Sight unseen, I could imagine any number of men behind me. I don't let my mind wander that far, though. Because there's only one man that I want. Him.
Every time I open my eyes, I lose focus, so I keep them closed. I picture Xan's gorgeous green eyes and remember how soft his lips were. Just thinking about the full package that is Xander Sanderlin is enough to make me climax, though the orgasm isn't as intense as the one last night. And as soon as I do, Xan groans and pulls out of me to spray his seed all over my back. It feels hot and wet and wasted—like it should have been inside of me. That's an insane thought, though. At least, this lets me know that the torture with the plug is probably over.
Xan sighs as he steps away from me. He pulls a few tissues from the box on his desk and wipes my back off before cleaning himself and shoving his cock back into his pants. I stay in position until he tells me I can move. When I'm finally allowed to look at him, he pays me no mind. He simply brushes me aside to return to his desk, nudging the lingerie in my direction. “Put that on.”
I disrobe in front of him, desperately wanting him to acknowledge me. He takes no interest. Have I become just the means to an end for him? A tool? No better than the tissue he just used and discarded?
It takes me several minutes to figure out that a bit of string is actually the top for the French maid costume. When I put it on, Xan barely affords me a glance before telling me where all the cleaning supplies are and picking up his briefcase to head for the door. I'm left with a soreness between my legs and an emptiness in my heart as I wonder what's wrong with him. Did something happen between last night and this morning? Perhaps he figured out that I took the plug out and is punishing me for it by being distant. Or am I misreading this entirely?
Isolation is the worst punishment I could possibly receive. Crueler than the plug or the spankings or even the taking of my innocence. Xan has meetings all week. Most nights, he comes home so late that he eats dinner out. We still have breakfast together, but the majority of our meals are spent in silence. Each morning, he gives me a list of tasks to accomplish, but I typically finish them all before noon. I'm beginning to feel useless. Worst than that, I feel ignored.
He hasn't wanted sex since he took me from behind in his office. I want to ask if I did something wrong, but that seems too needy. I have to remind myself that this is a job. I have to tell myself that I haven't gotten attached, that I don't worry when he comes home late it's because he's with another woman. I have to tell myself that he doesn't belong to me—that we're nothing to each other. I have to lie to myself over and over again to the point that it corrodes my very soul.
The truth is that each night is pain. Each night is tears. Each day is spent sucking up my feelings and praying that the tides will turn and he'll touch me or even just give me a longing look.
And then I've finally had enough. I've had enough of being alone, so I start going home during the daytime to be with my family.
I don't tell Xan's driver. I don't tell anyone. I simply change into my regular clothes, lock up and leave; hike a mile down the street to the nearest bus stop and don't look back. And when I get to our apartment, and my mother's face lights up as I walk through the door, I know it's totally worth it—worth the chance of getting fired.
We start to fall into a lazy, comfortable routine. Knowing that Xan probably won't get home until late, I don't mind sticking around if either Dorothy or Ruby has an errand to run and can't watch my mother. Being here gives me the companionship that I've been missing. Mom and I play hangman during the day or paint pictures with dollar store watercolors and blank sheets of notebook paper. I eventually stop worrying about Xan figuring out that I've been sneaking out.
Until the day that he does figure it out.
I come home with plenty of time to spare, but I know that something is wrong the second I see the limo parked in front of the house with Xan's driver sitting inside. Panic spikes my heart as I try to figure out how to sneak back in without being noticed.
I decide to go through the backdoor. The house is quiet as usual. I tiptoe as quickly as possible up the stairs and somehow manage to make it to my room unnoticed. Xan must be in his office. I suppose that being invisible to him has its advantages. If I'm lucky, he won't even know I was gone.
I change into my lingerie for the day, a teddy so bright green that it makes me feel like a giant booger. I'm pulling the second strap over my shoulder when he storms into my room, flinging the door open so hard that it slams against the wall.
“Where were you?” His nostrils flare.
I play coy. “I was outside trimming the rose bushes.”
He rolls his eyes. “I didn't take you for a liar.”
“I'm not lying.” I knit my brow.
“So you're telling me that you've been trimming the rose bushes all week...for several hours a day.”
My chest tightens. I've definitely been busted.
“Where have you been going during the day?” he demands.
I feel backed into a corner. Trapped. There's no lie that would make sense. All I have is the truth.
“I've been going home. Okay?” I confess.
“No. It's not okay.” Xan shakes his head. “Your job isn't that fucking difficult, Christiana—”
“I know, Xander,” I cut him off, using his full name to shut him up. “And I do my job before I leave. I promise you, there's nothing left on my list when I walk out that door.”
“That's not the point.” He tears his hand through his hair.
“No.” I step up to him, feeling bold. “The point is that you want to keep me here all alone in isolation like some pet. I do my job. When most people finish their job, they're allowed to go home and spend time with their family.”
“The point is that you didn't fucking ask,” he shouts over me and then sighs.
I cower back. “I didn't think you'd let me.”
“Why? Because I'm such a monster.” His gaze slices right through me.
When I don't answer, he turns away. The iciness that fills the room makes my chest tighten. It's dismissal on a different level. He's about to fire me; I just know it. I hold my breath, waiting for the ball to drop.
“In my office in ten minutes.” His voice is so hard that my guts twist with discomfort from the sound of it. This is the end. It has to be. And I'm not even sure I care anymore.
He leaves the room, and I sit on the side of the bed to hug myself. It only takes a few minutes to find my resolve. I'm not going to let him stomp me into the ground for needing the love and kindness of a normal human being. Somehow, he's okay going through life alone, but I'm not.
Everything about this job has been wrong from day one. I've bent over backward to please him. Have thrown my morals to the wind. Have given him my body. I even came close to giving him my heart. If he can't afford me this one kindness, then I shouldn't be here.
I'll go home a ruined girl, but what does it matter to him. Men like him are monsters. They take and take, not caring about the destruction they leave in their wake.
I pull off the stupid lingerie in jerking motions. He'll know my intentions the second I walk through that door in my regular clothes. I won't give him the satisfaction of firing me. If I'm going down, then it will be in a blaze of glory.
I gather up my nerve and take long stride
s to Xan's office. Despite my new resolve, each step brings me pain. Lord only knows how I'm going to get through this. No doubt, Xan will screw any chance I have of getting a good job in this city again. Oh well. There's always the ranch or baking bread and selling it on the street like my mother did. No one checks your references when you're self-employed.
When I get to Xan's office, I march right in like I own the place, though I keep my arms crossed for protection. It's a small barrier of security against his intimidation. And oh does he ever look intimidating. He's sitting in his office chair, his ankle crossed over his knee. One hand rests lazily on top of his desk. He was expecting me. Waiting, by the looks of it.
His eyes rake up my body, and disapproval contorts his expression. “Where's your uniform?”
“I quit.” The words come out in a pathetic stutter.
“You...quit,” he repeats them as if he's never heard them before.
I swallow hard, averting my gaze. Why does it hurt so much to look at him? I have to say my peace before I leave though. It's the only way I can walk out of here with my head held high.
“You don't know what it's like.” I shift my weight. “You don't know what I sacrificed for this job.”
“What did you sacrifice, Christiana?” Amusement is plain in his voice. It pisses me off.
“Everything.” I snap at him, my eyes shooting up to meet his. I want him to feel the full depth of my words. “I sacrificed everything. My morals. My soul. I've bent over until I've broken just to please you.
“I left my family. My mother who's in recovery from crippling pneumonia. You know she cried the first time I came home to visit her. It hadn't been that long, but I was just happy she remembered me.” Tears come to my eyes as I think of the memory. “We almost lost her. I almost lost her. That's the only reason I even agreed to take this job. She needs round the clock care because she can barely walk. Oxygen tanks don't pay for themselves. Her lungs were damaged so badly that she doesn't get enough oxygen without them. We're in so much debt...” my voice trails off as it begins to shake, my grief overwhelming me. What am I going to do now?
