by Lana Cross
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. My mind started rejecting the idea immediately. You’re not a hooker, Amanda, my mind screamed. Don’t let this pompous billionaire jerk get what he wants. My body, however, started its familiar reflexive tingling. The words pleasure and enjoy kicked my imagination into high gear.
“You’re not being forced to do anything you don’t want,” he continued, taking a sip of his whiskey and relishing the taste before setting it down on his desk next to mine. “This has to be a mutual agreement between the two of us, and it has nothing to do with your position in this company. Your job will remain safe whether you accept this offer or not. You are not obligated to agree because the safety of your job in this company is not being compromised in any way. I’m not that kind of guy.”
“What kind of guy are you?”
“Someone who knows what he wants, and usually gets it. Someone who has infinite means to acquire whatever he wants, and right now I want you, Miss Amanda.”
“Right now?” I said, glancing at the bright daylight flooding in through the glass window.
He nodded.
Common sense would have made me get up and walk out the door, but I was already horny, and you know what they say about having an itch…
“Twenty thousand,” my mouth said before I had a chance to filter it. “I will have sex with you for twenty thousand dollars.”
Mr. Blackwood smiled. He got up, took both our glasses and placed it back on the bar. He walked around to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a leather-bound checkbook. He flipped it open, grabbed a heavy-looking fountain pen, and scribbled on the checkbook. He tore the check out and handed it to me. I looked at it. “$20,000,” it read. “Payable to Cash, for services rendered.”
“Fuck me,” I said, staring at the check.
CHAPTER THREE
Mr. Blackwood came around and stopped behind me, his body resting against the back of my chair. He placed his hands on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Relax,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
I nodded. My heart was pounding so loud I swore he could hear it. He was so close I could smell his sweet muskiness. He had a man’s scent, and my nostrils drank in the aroma of his maleness. New wetness flooded my cunt.
Fuck, I thought. I’m so fucking horny and he hasn’t even done anything yet.
I could not see him, but when I felt the feather-light touch of his lips against the side of my neck, a shiver ran through me. He kissed and explored my neck with surprising gentleness. His right hand moved down slowly from my shoulder, through my blouse, inside my bra, and caressed my left breast.
For most of you out there who are in some kind of relationship, or have been in a relationship lately, or simply just fucked someone recently, this small bit of foreplay might be nothing. But for me, someone who had never had any sexual experience with anyone other than that one disaster at the back of a car years ago, the touch of another man on my body had the effect of a fully charged electric prod. I gasped and my body jerked so hard that it startled Mr. Blackwood.
“Are you okay?”
“Um, yes sir, I’m fine. It’s just…”
“Yes?”
I wanted to tell him the truth, to let him know this was all new to me, that the closest I came to any intimate contact was with my multi-colored, multi-speed, multi-shaped vibrators currently tucked away in a drawer at the side of my bed at home. For some reason, I held back.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just haven’t had sex in some time.”
“How long?”
“Um, a few months,” I lied, glancing back at him.
Mr. Blackwood looked at me curiously, then smiled. “Well, let’s fix that, shall we?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said, stepping around so he faced me. “Now, I want you to stand up and strip.”
“Sir?”
“Take off your clothes, Miss Amanda.” He was no longer smiling, and his voice had an edge to it. He was now a commander, used to giving orders.
I stood up, and with slightly trembling fingers, started unbuttoning my blouse.
“Slowly,” he said, shedding his own jacket and placing it neatly against the chair.
I nodded. I looked down as I fumbled with the buttons, trying to will my trembling fingers to obey.
“Look at me, Miss Amanda.”
My head snapped back.
“Good. Now keep looking at me while you take your blouse off. Slowly.”
I kept my eyes on him, and slowly unbuttoned my top. It was an unnerving experience, watching someone watch me as I undressed. He kept a stern face, void of any emotion. Finally I got through the task. I had to lift my blouse out from inside my skirt to get to the last couple of buttons. I took it off and placed it on my chair.
“Now your skirt,” he said. He unbuttoned his own shirt and placed it, again very neatly, next to his jacket. His thick, bare chest was so muscular and chiseled I almost whistled.
I unzipped my skirt and, in slow motion, pushed it down, bending forward and wiggling so I could get it past my hips. As I bent, I saw his eyes move to my dangling, pale breasts barely held in place by my bra. I stepped out of my skirt, kicked it aside, and straightened up.
“Very good, Miss Amanda. Now your bra, please.”
I hesitated. It was hard to shake off years of deliberately covering myself up so no one can see me with my condition.
“Your bra,” Mr. Blackwood repeated.
I took a deep breath, reached behind, undid the clasp of my bra, and let it drop to the floor, watching Mr. Blackwood carefully. He inhaled sharply. A look of pure lust crossed his face. He licked his lips.
I hitched my thumbs around the garter of my panties and was about to pull them them down when he said, “Stop.”
I froze, my panties slightly pulled down so that only a hint of my shaved mound was visible.
Mr. Blackwood stepped forward. “Amazing,” he said, staring at my boobs. I looked down and realized I was leaking from both breasts. Not a lot, just a drop or two. I had a sudden urge to cover up. My arms shot back up instinctively, but Mr. Blackwood caught them and gently pushed them down and to the side.
“Eyes straight ahead, Miss Amanda. Don’t look down.”
I stared at the far wall in front of me. From my periphery I saw Mr. Blackwood’s head dip down. Moments later I felt his fingers tracing the curves of my breasts. He cupped them gently and lifted them up slightly, feeling the weight in his hands. The thumping in my chest increased as I struggled to remain still. I felt the warmth of his tongue on my left nipple, licking it gently and cleaning the milk I had already secreted. A tingling sensation traveled from my nipple to my spine and across the entire length of my body, causing me to moan softly and press myself closer to him.
After he had thoroughly licked the milky residue from my left breast, he moved to the right one. He lapped the milk from around the areola, then the tip of his tongue made contact with the tip of my hardened nipple. He played with it, pushing it down and twirling it around his tongue. I had no idea my nipple had so many sensitive nerve endings. Each time his tongue touched it, delicious spikes of electricity coursed through my body.
Mr. Blackwood shifted. He placed one strong arm behind my back. With his other had he lifted a full boob, covered my sensitive nipple with his mouth, and sucked hard while simultaneously squeezing down tightly on my breast. A powerful spray of milk shot into his waiting mouth. I moaned in pleasure and tried to pull him away, but he kept me in place, sucking and swallowing while his hand continued squeezing and caressing me.
It was all too much. I orgasmed without warning, jerking uncontrollably as the explosion racked my body.
“Oh god!” I screamed, my body trembling as I came again and again. I swooned and my legs gave way, but he held me with a powerful arm, his mouth still sucking me with a hungry intensity, his face pressed tightly against my breast. I spasmed around him, a puppet flailing in the air.
Finally he eased his
mouth away. A thin jet of milk shot out, hitting him in the face, but he didn’t seem to mind. He picked me up without effort and lowered me gently on his desk. I had my arms wrapped around his neck, afraid to let go. My chest heaved, and perspiration mixed with milk that now flowed freely from my dripping breasts. I was shaking all over. I could not even tell if I was still orgasming or not.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, running a hand through my hair. “You’re going to be okay.” His voice was calm, soothing, and very sexy. I clung to him until my spasms subsided, then he gently eased me down until I felt the surface of his desk on my naked back.
“There you go,” he said. “Just relax.”
I let go and dropped my arms to my sides. The fog started to clear and my breathing slowly returned to normal. Realizing I had my eyes shut tightly, I opened them and saw him watching me intently.
“Sweet Jesus,” I whispered hoarsely.
“That was some trip you had there.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He bent down and kissed me. I opened up to him, met his searching tongue, and returned the torrid kiss. It felt wonderful. My body piked with renewed lust.
Mr. Blackwood pulled back and studied me with that intense gaze. His tanned, handsome features sent flutters down my stomach.
“What?” I said.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain my situation to a total stranger? Then I realized the silliness of that line of thinking. I mean, this stranger had sucked milk from my breasts, and I was lying almost completely naked on his desk.
I shook my head, both in answer to his question and the absurdity of the situation I found myself in.
“So you're a virgin.” It wasn't a question.
“Well,” I said, trying to find the right words. “Technically, I'm not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have toys.”
He nodded. “It's not the same,” he said. “But how is this possible? You're what, 23 now?”
“Twenty-four.”
“You’re 24 and very attractive. You’ve got a great personality. What’s not to like about you?”
“I, well…” Go on, Amanda, I thought. Spit it out.
“There was a bad experience once. I felt so ashamed that I swore I would never allow myself to feel that way again.”
“You should never feel ashamed of your body. Never. If someone makes you feel less than special, you’ve got the wrong guy. You ditch the asshole and move on. It’s the guy who has issues, not you. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s continue, shall we? I’m not done with you yet.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I did not know how much of this I could handle, but he paid for me, so the least I could do was try to be a good sport about it. I started to get up, but he shook his head. “Just lay down,” he said.
I nodded and laid back down, feeling the cold wood of his desk against my warm back. He stared at my body with a hungry lust. “So beautiful,” he whispered. He ran his strong hands along the sides of my torso¸ massaging me, then leaned forward across my body and played with my my breasts. He pinch both nipples at the same time, hard. I groaned and squirmed. My right arm brushed against his pants accidentally, and I felt something hard. And big. I pulled my arm away quickly.
“Sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Touch it? Miss Amanda, please put your hand on my cock.”
Shit, I thought. This is really happening. I’m about to feel a man’s dick for the first time in my life.
With my heart thumping wildly at ten times its normal rate, I reached out and grasped his cock through his dress pants. Even though I had no point of reference to compare sizes, I could tell that what he had between his legs was not your typical standard-issue dick. What he had was a monster.
“Fuck,” I said, tracing the length of it and imagining just how big it was.
“Unzip me, Miss Amanda,” Mr. Blackwood said, moving up the desk so I could see him clearly.
I turned to my side, unbuckled his pants, and unzipped him. His pants dropped to the floor, and I was left staring at a very expensive looking, bulging silk boxer shorts. A large spot of wetness was very visible on one side of the shorts.
“Take it off,” Mr. Blackwood commanded.
I pulled his shorts down.
“Fuck me,” I said, staring at a very large, pulsing dick inches away from my face.
“Stroke it, Miss Amanda. Slowly.”
With trembling fingers, I grasped the shaft. It felt hard, and alive, and wonderful, and my hand seemed so tiny next to it. A gush of wetness filled my cunt.
I moved my hand slowly across the length, sliding it up until I hit the ridge of his blood-engorged crown, then sliding it down until the soft of my palm rubbed against his balls. I had no idea if I was doing it right, but when I heard Mr. Blackwood groan in pleasure, I knew I was on the right track. I repeated the same motion, sliding my hand up and down the entire length of his shaft. I took his heavy balls in my other hand and kneaded it. Pre-cum formed and glistened on the tip.
“Suck my cock, Miss Amanda.”
I repositioned myself to get a better angle, then ran my tongue along the tip, tasting pre-cum for the first time. I savored the silky, slippery texture and moaned. This was so fucking hot. My mouth covered his pulsing head and I sucked deeply while forcing my tongue into his opening. I tasted more pre-cum.
Mr. Blackwood groaned in obvious pleasure. “Fuck, Miss Amanda. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
I shook my head but continued sucking him while squeezing his balls. The taste of him lit a fire in me, and I wanted more. It was like he was releasing some kind of drug, and I was the rabid junkie that was hooked on it. I increased the speed of my stroking, half expecting him to command me to slow down, but instead he took my head and guided himself deeper into my mouth. I gagged.
“Relax your throat,” he said. “Don’t try to fight it. Just let it in.”
I tried, and it worked, sort of. I guided him in until his crown hit the back of my mouth, and I couldn’t take any more of him in. I glanced down and realized I had only taken half of him in my mouth. He was so damn long.
Mr. Blackwood must have realized my limit. He backed out of my mouth, then pushed himself back in slowly until he got to that limit. He continued fucking my mouth this way, pulling out until only his crown was in my mouth, then pushing in up to the point where I almost gagged, then backing out. I had no idea why this turned me on, but it did.
Mr. Blackwood withdrew, his cock covered in my saliva.
“Did you like that?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said, smiling mysteriously. “There’s so much I can teach you, about getting to the edge and backing down, and how the body reacts in wonderful ways. Perhaps some day.” His eyes moved to my breasts. “You’re leaking again.”
I looked down. I’ve never seen my nipples stand up like that. They were pink and hard and milk dripped out freely.
Mr. Blackwood could not help himself. He bent down, wrapped his mouth around one nipple, sucked on it greedily and swallowed. I arched my back as sweet pinpricks of sensation traveled from my sensitive nipple to my spine and spread out from there. He sucked until there was nothing left, then moved to the other breast and did the same thing. I saw him stroke himself with his free hand while he fed on me. It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen. I felt the familiar build up, and tried to keep myself from coming again. It was one of the hardest things I had to do.
“There,” he said, finally unlatching himself from my breast. “You’re all dry again.”
“I’m sure there’s more to come,” I gasped out, beads of perspiration forming on my forehead.
He nodded, walked to the edge of the desk, and started running his hands along my inner thighs with fingers outstretched a
nd curved, so that only his fingernails scratched against my skin. I felt goosebumps travel across my entire body, sending delicious chills straight to my brain. Fuck, I thought. This man knows exactly where to touch me. I had no idea my inner thighs carried so much sensitive nerves. And how the fuck did he learn to do that with his fingernails? The enigma that was Clive Blackwood deepened, and I wanted badly to learn his secrets.
He spread my legs wide. “Your panty is soaked,” he said.
“No shit,” I replied, starting to breath heavily again. I kept my body flat on his desk and stared at the amazing mosaic in the ceiling. I could actually hear my heart pounding. I felt fingers hitch around the garters, then my last remaining piece of clothing was removed slowly, almost reverently. I imagined how my shaved pussy must look like from his angle.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re the first person to ever see my pussy.”
“It’s very beautiful, Miss Amanda, just like everything else about you, but I’ll be doing a lot more than just stare at it. Now be quiet.”
I nodded. Don’t blow this, Amanda, I thought. Don’t come so fucking fast this time. I took a couple of deep breaths, anticipating this moment. I had masturbated to a ton of images in my mind of some guy eating me, ravishing my pussy with his fingers and tongue. Now it was about to happen for real, and I had no clue how it would feel.
What came next was something I could never have imagined. Not in a million years.
The first sensation I had was not a finger, or a tongue, but the light caress from Mr. Blackwood’s breathing. I could not see him from my angle, but I got the impression that he was drinking in the scent of my womanhood, not unlike how I’ve seen some people smell red wine before taking a sip. I felt the air from his nostrils on my pussy, and just that alone sent shivers flying all over. My cunt felt alive and hypersensitive with yearning.
I felt his tongue then, not on my pussy, but tracing the soft skin around it. I gasped and held on tightly to the edge of the desk. Sweet Jesus, what is he doing to me? He continued lapping the sensitive area around my mound, then finally I felt something moist and soft slide across my slit. I jerked as an electric current sliced across my body.
