Master of Desire

by Multiple

  Stars exploded behind my tightly-closed eyelids. The pleasure slammed into me like a punch to the gut, in the best possible way. I was left breathless and weak, momentarily forgetting where I was. Who I was with.

  By the time I had blinked myself back to full awareness, Lauren was buttoning her blouse, staring down at her ruined skirt. At the wet splash on the floor beneath her.

  “Sorry about your carpet,” she said, flatly.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s nothing.”

  She picked up her skirt and turned it over in her hands. Frowning slightly, she reached into her purse and rummaged for a moment, coming out with a handful of safety pins.

  “I’ll have my assistant call you to schedule the final mediation,” she said, reattaching the fabric’s jagged edges with practices hands.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  She looked up at me, her eyes still dull. But then, a little spark.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’ll stop by your office to talk about it,” I told her, with a pointed look. “I have a few more special conditions that will need to be met.”

  For a moment, she just stared at me. And then, ever so slightly, there was a hint of a smile.

  ***

  True to my word, I came to visit her later that week. Her assistant asked me if I had an appointment, and I just assured him that she’d want to see me.

  I was in her office a few minutes later.

  “I’m busy,” she said, glancing up at me. Her uniform today was more severe even than usual, a sleek suit in midnight-black, crisp white underneath, her hair pulled tightly back. I wanted to see it undone again.

  I laid my briefcase on the table. She stopped and stared, her hand floating midway between the pencil-holder and some papers.

  “What’s in there?” she asked, her voice suddenly low and cautious.

  Clicking the latches open, I smiled. “A gift,” I told her. “I thought it was best if I kept it hidden until we were alone.”

  The clerk at the store had wrapped it beautifully, a little box in deep, royal purple with a lavender bow. Lauren stood very still, her hands interlaced in front of her.

  “Open it,” I said.

  She made a move to pick it up, then hesitated.

  “I can’t...” She looked up at me. “Dalton, we can’t keep doing this.”

  Her voice was regretful, and more honest than I’d ever heard from her.

  “Do you want me to sign the settlement?” I asked, calmly.

  “You’re going to sign the settlement because it’s the best thing for everyone,” she said, firmly. “I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

  I reached out and touched her cheek, gently. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she breathed in deeply.

  “Open it,” I said, again.

  She took another deep breath and picked up the box. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped the ribbon and let it slither away.

  “What is this?” she asked, picking up the smooth plastic object. A slight frown was taking over her face.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out another, smaller object. A tiny remote control. I pressed a button, and Lauren’s gift vibrated silently in response.

  Instantly, her cheeks turned pink.

  “No,” she blurted out, dropping it like it had burned her. It clattered on her desk, rolling to the edge, and I snatched it up before it hit the floor.

  I laid it carefully on the center of her desk.

  “You’ll wear this at the mediation,” I said. “No one else will know, as long as you don’t betray yourself.”

  Lauren kept staring at the vibrator, her eyes like saucers.

  “This is insane,” she said. “It’s bad enough, that we’ve compromised the case...”

  “No,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm. She shivered, but didn’t pull away. “You’ve compromised your case. If your client finds out what you did...” I smiled, shaking my head. “Well, it’s better not to find out what would happen then, isn’t it?”

  Her face went bright red, then completely white. She sat down abruptly in her chair.

  “You have nothing over me, Lauren. Nothing. And I have everything.”

  I closed my briefcase, picked it up, and left her in stunned silence.

  ***

  The morning of the final mediation, I got to the appointed meeting place very early. Crisp, pressed, not a hair out of place - and the remote control to Lauren’s vibrator in my pocket.

  I turned it around and around in my hand, picturing Lauren blushing as she slipped the little device into her panties. Just thinking about it made me half-hard. I was alone in the conference room, but I wouldn’t be for much longer. It seemed judicious to push my chair in a little further, making sure that the conference table shielded me.

  She was the first one to walk in, a breeze of cool air and the subtle scent of her perfume. Her skirt, a deep evergreen that stood out stark against her skin, was tighter and shorter than anything she had worn previously. And her blouse was unbuttoned just far enough to reveal the side of her breast, when she leaned forward in a particular way.

  But that wasn’t what made my thoughts stutter.

  Her hair - every fiery, untamed inch of it - was down.

  It fell around her face and shoulders in wild ringlets, bouncing with every step. She still looked every bit as confident, every bit as capable of owning a room. But I was momentarily dumbstruck.

  “Good morning, Mr. Alexander,” she said, coolly. “You’re very early today.”

  “Punctuality is next to Godliness,” I said, meeting her steady gaze.

  “I don’t think that’s the saying.” She sat down, primly, keeping her knees pressed tightly together. I was dying to know. Had she worn it? Had she even considered it? Could I have misjudged her completely?

  Would she find more ways to surprise me?

  But I wouldn’t turn it on. Not until we had company. Otherwise, where was the fun?

  My lawyer Mark was the next to arrive, followed by the mediator, then finally, Lauren’s client - late as usual.

  “I know this has been a bit of a rocky road,” Lauren said, laying a folder on the table. Smiling inwardly, I wondered if any of the pictures were still in there. Did she have them still, as the ace up her sleeve? “But I think we can all agree that the terms of the original a -”

  I hit the button.

  “- greement,” she said, one hand reflexively grabbing the edge of the table, “are really quite fair.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she turned her gaze to me. I nodded, studiously, hiding a smile behind my folded hands.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Rather than drag this out any longer, I think we ought to consider - ah -” Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. My thumb hovered over the button, giving her less than a moment to recover before I hit it again. “I...hmmm.” Her pulse quickened, and I could see the evidence, fluttering next to her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she said, in answer to the questioning glances from the others at the table. “I think I’m having a little bit of allergies. Just a tickle in my thro - throat.” She exhaled, eyes widening slightly as she gripped the table harder.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Mark was relishing this, without knowing the reason why. “You look flushed. Maybe we should reschedule.”

  “No!” she cried out, half in response to him, half in response to my perfectly-timed jolt. Everyone at the table flinched slightly. “I’m sorry. No. I think we’d all rather get this over with.”

  “Just a minute, then,” said Mark, producing a folder of his own. “I have some questions for you about the terms.”

  While he talked, I pressed the button mercilessly, watching Lauren struggle to retain her composure, and somehow find a way to focus enough on Mark’s words to actually address his concerns. I didn’t care about any of it. I knew the terms, and I knew Mark was just trying to justify his fee. But the opportunity to watch Lauren’s chest rise
and fall with each measured breath, as she fought the urge to pant and moan, was priceless. When her eyes fell closed, momentarily surrendering to the pleasure, the sight of her made my cock surge. Slipping my hand out of my pocket, I carefully slid it across my lap to palm my erection, the pressure giving momentary relief. But when I took my hand away, the frustration just wound tighter.

  Lauren was staring at me, her eyes black with desire. When I started she was desperate for it to stop, but now, she needed more.

  The room was silent and she seemed to shake back to reality with an effort, realizing it was her turn to speak.

  “If you’ll refer to the...page eight...” She let out a shaky breath. “That’s exactly what that wording is trying to convey.”

  Mark kept on grilling her, and I kept on sending her higher and higher, further away from the negotiation and closer to the most powerful climax of her life. After a while, I checked my watch. She’d been in a constant state of arousal for over an hour. I had no idea how she was holding herself together.

  Then again, my own judgment was slightly impaired.

  No matter how hard I tried to think about baseball statistics while I thumbed the button, my dick refused to cooperate, straining against my pants and throbbing angrily in time with my heartbeat. God, I needed her. I needed to fuck her. I needed it like I needed to breathe, more, even, but we were trapped here in a room of people with no reasonable excuse to leave at the same time.

  Lauren’s nipples were stiff peaks under her blouse. At one point, I swear I heard the mediator mutter: “Is it cold in here?”

  But I didn’t care. All I wanted was to see her come apart. I wanted to see her lose herself in front of these people, unable to betray her pleasure, body quivering and pulsing in secret.

  I was about to fucking explode.

  But - ladies first.

  If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead under Lauren’s gaze, but I kept my finger off the button until it was time for me to take pen in hand and sign the document. While all eyes were on me, I pressed it hard, and didn’t let go.

  The noise in the back of her throat, just before she swallowed all the sounds she wanted to make, still drew attention. Everyone glanced at briefly, none of them sure what to say. Her eyelids fluttered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She gripped the table so hard that it shook slightly. Her muscles trembled.

  My prick throbbed, jealous, aching to feel the same release that had just coursed through her body.

  “Are you feeling all right?” the mediator asked, frowning.

  “Yes,” said Lauren, breathlessly. She swallowed, and looked at him, fighting back a smile. “Yes, thank you. I think we’re done here.”

  “Grab some lunch?” Mark asked me, or something like it. I was having difficulty focusing on my surroundings, for some reason.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’ve got work.”

  It seemed to take a thousand years, but finally, everyone left except me and Lauren.

  The door clicked, and she stared at me.

  “Up against the window,” I said. “Now.”

  She stood, on shaky legs, and walked over to one of the massive picture windows. Silently, she stepped out of her panties. The vibrator clattered to the floor, and I was ripping the condom open with my teeth before she even spread her legs.

  With one hand on her hip to steady her, I slid inside, agonizingly slow. After all the waiting, somehow, I still wanted to make it last. She moaned, head thrown back, exposing her neck for me to bite. I sucked hard enough to leave a mark she wouldn’t be able to hide on the way out.

  Her hands squeaked on the glass. “What if someone walks in?” she whispered, arching her back to take me deeper.

  “They’ll leave.” I nibbled on her earlobe. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are, when you’re trying not to scream? Gushing all over your panties in the middle of a serious legal meeting?”

  “I think I have a little bit of an idea.” I heard her smiling. “I could see you grabbing your dick under the table, by the way. Everyone could.”

  “Not everyone was watching.” I sighed. “Just you.”

  “I sure hope so,” she breathed.

  “Hmm. And your little show was very subtle. I’m sure no one suspects a thing.”

  “I got the job done.” She shuddered as I slid my hand around to the front of her body, trailing it down to the space where we were joined. “That’s all that matters. No one’s going to ask me if I had an orgasm in the middle of a mediation because some egotistical asshole forced me to wear a vibrator.”

  “Ah, yes.” I thrust in deep, rubbing her clit in time with my movements. “I really twisted your arm, didn’t I?”

  “You said you wouldn’t sign,” she panted, “unless I wore it.”

  “You don’t care about the settlement,” I growled. “You get paid more the longer this gets dragged out. That was a lie. The whole thing was a pretense to get to me. You were curious, and you were aroused.” I pinched her sensitive flesh, and she bit back a shriek. “How many times did you get off, touching yourself to pictures of me?”

  “Fuck you.” Her chest was heaving, her body quivering on the edge of another climax.

  “Tell me.” I pulled my hand away. “Tell me, or you don’t come again.”

  “Four,” she spat, her inner muscles tightening around me already. “Four in two hours. The last there were all in the same session. I couldn’t stop. You turned me on so fucking much I thought I was going crazy.”

  I lost control then, slamming into her so hard and fast that the window rattled. I grabbed her hips so hard it must have hurt, pressing my chest against her back until I could feel her every moan vibrating through my body. She tumbled into rapture, her cunt clenching so hard it almost hurt me, ripping my own orgasm from deep inside.

  It felt endless.

  When I came down, Lauren and I were still locked together, and she wasn’t making any attempts to beat a hasty retreat. Not this time. She made a small noise, almost a purr, and I realized that her hand was pressed against mine on the window.

  She whimpered in protest when I pulled out.

  There was a soft half-smile on her face when she turned around. The fire was still in her eyes, but I’d stoked it into something different. Something new.

  “Your cock feels even better than I imagined,” she said. “Just for the record.”

  I glanced behind me. “I don’t see a stenographer here. I think that’ll have to stay unofficial for now.”

  “Jesus.” She laughed. “You just can’t switch it off, can you?”

  I composed myself quickly, resisting the urge to kiss her. She wanted it. She wanted it, but she wasn’t going to take it. And the look in her eyes wasn’t something I was ready for.

  “I really do have work to do,” I told her, trying to sound matter-of-fact instead of apologetic.

  “Sure,” she said, her face falling slightly. “Of course.”

  When we parted, she didn’t ask if she could see me again. She didn’t give me her number. I should have been relieved, but I knew I hadn’t seen the last of her.

  A week went by before she rang my doorbell.

  Standing on my porch, in yoga pants with a loose ponytail and no bra under her faded tee-shirt, she said:

  “I want you to spank me.”

  I stared at her.

  “Come in, Lauren.”

  I wondered how many people who weren’t in her workout classes got a chance to see her like this. Utterly casual, irresistibly sexy. I wanted to spank her, until she cried, and I wanted to fuck her like I did in the conference room.

  Except it wasn’t really fucking, and that was the problem. I’d practically made love to her in front of that window. I hadn’t meant to. But she’d felt it.

  I couldn’t let myself go down that road. Not with her. The way she’d crumpled on my office floor, the pictures that she loved and hated so much scattered around her - she was confused, conflicted, ashamed of her d
esires and angry at me for awakening them. Even if she didn’t always show it, the resentment was a vein running deep.

  “We can’t keep doing this, Lauren,” I told her, hating myself for saying it.

  She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice slightly rough. “I just asked you to spank me, not take me out on a date.”

  I looked at her, carefully. Searchingly. I wanted to believe her.

  “This is what you do, isn’t it?” She crossed her arms. “That’s all I’m asking for. I don’t expect anything else.”

  I decided to take her at her word.

  She followed me down the stairs, and I selected one of my smallest paddles from the wall. I sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned her to lay down across my lap.

  She eyed the paddle.

  “Not your hand?”

  “You didn’t specify.” I took a moment to admire the view, the black fabric clinging so tightly to her ass that it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Then, I spanked her.

  I spanked her again and again, past what I thought she would endure. When I finally paused, she looked up at me.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “I’m going to need you to stop that.” My grip on the paddle was very tight.

  “What?”

  “Squirming.”

  A wicked smile spread across her face, and she wiggled on purpose. I groaned, gritting my teeth, and spanked her once more for good measure.

  “I mean it,” I said, pushing her off. “I know you said you wanted to humiliate me, but making me come in my pants is a step too far.”

  She laughed, tumbling down onto her knees in front of me. “Hopefully it’s not too humiliating if I suck your cock.” She licked her lips, but she didn’t make a move towards me. This was her way, I realized, of asking permission.

  But it wasn’t good enough.

  “Beg.”

  She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Uh...please can I can suck your cock?”

  “Like you mean it.” I unzipped, watching her eyes on me, hungry, wanting.

  “Please, Master. Can I suck your cock?” There was still a tinge of irritation in her voice.