Bought by the Boss

by Valentine, Layla

  Above the minuscule white skirt, I see her midriff. I want to kiss it. My eyes travel upward to the web-like straps of the seductive top. The collar—yes, the collar. I like it. It brings out the curve of her neck, collar bones… The straps hold up her perky, full breasts.

  What am I going to do to her tonight? How will the next hour, or hours—I don’t yet know how long I’ll keep her here—unfold?

  I want to fuck her. I will fuck her. But before then?

  I pick up my briefcase and set it up on the desk. Though I’m looking at the case, I can still see her in my peripheral vision.

  “Dust,” I order while I open the case. “See the sculptures on the shelves? I want you to clean them all. Every surface.”

  I watch her in my peripheral vision as she picks up the duster and begins working her way down one row on the shelves that display my many artifacts.

  I pull out my laptop, open it up, and begin checking emails. It takes great concentration not to look directly at her. I want her to feel as though I’m ignoring her, though with my peripheral vision I’m taking in every one of her curves as she moves. To drive home my point, I take out my cellphone and make a call.

  “Hi, Tim. It’s Hunter,” I say as my colleague answers. “Yeah.” I laugh casually in response to something Tim says.

  Maria turns and glares at me.

  I continue speaking into the phone, ignoring her glare. “I know. No, I’m not doing anything important. I did want to go over those numbers with you though.”

  This is definitely getting a rise out of her. I see that telltale crease develop near her brow.

  “Yes, twelve percent is going to work well on our end,” I say.

  She presses her lips together.

  I look right at her now—I can’t resist. She catches my eye as she lifts a glass vase. It’s one I picked up in Japan, on a business trip last year. While our eyes are locked, she lifts it up in front of her and moves the duster in her other hand across the vase.

  I can sense what she’s about to do before she does it. Nonetheless, as the glass falls from her hands to the floor, I startle.

  Within seconds I’ve excused myself from the phone call, promising to call Tim back in the morning.

  “Everything okay?” he asks. “What was that sound?” He heard the glass shatter, too.

  I don’t take my eyes off of Maria. “Everything’s fine,” I say. “The cleaning staff just broke a glass. I have to deal with it now, unfortunately.”

  I hang up, and Maria puts her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” she says, though I can tell she most definitely is not. She wants my attention. She wants me to punish her. I stand and walk toward her.

  “That was very naughty,” I say. “You meant to do that, didn’t you?”

  She doesn't respond.

  “Answer me when I ask you a question,” I say. I’ve crossed the room. I reach for the collar around her neck and slide my finger between the fabric and her neck, seeing how tight it is.

  I feel her throat contract as she swallows.

  Now, she’s nervous again.

  Good.

  “Yes, Mr. Larson,” she whispers. “Yes, I meant to drop it.”

  “Why would you do such a naughty thing?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer me.

  “I asked you to behave, Maria.”

  I free my finger from the collar and slide it down one of the straps. I can feel her chest rising and falling as I follow the seam of the material and her skin as it travels across her breast and nipple.

  Pulling the fabric aside as I reach the center of her breast, I let my finger dip in until I feel the ridge of her nipple. It’s firm. I slide my index finger and thumb inside and begin pulling on the nub until it’s hard.

  She sighs.

  I remove my hand and lick my fingers. Then, I slide them beneath the fabric again and begin rolling her hard nipple between my fingers.

  As her nipples stiffen into points, my dick hardens in my pants. I feel the urge to do more, see more, feel more.

  I step in closer to her, and I feel my erection press against her hip. “Lean over the desk,” I say. “Now.” My voice is husky and deep.

  Her silky hair slides against my cheek as she nods. I pull on her nipple one last time, harder than before. She gasps, and I release her.

  When she moves to the desk and leans over it, her round ass is completely exposed. I take a moment, standing behind her, to take in the gorgeous, sexy curves.

  Then I step forward and spank her firmly. Once, twice, three times.

  At first, she gasps as my hand makes contact. The sounds are soft and breathy. But as the spanking gets harder, her breathy cries become sharper and louder. Again, I hit her. A rosy handprint appears on her cheek, and her cry peaks with a mix of pain and pleasure. She cried out in the same way when I fucked her.

  She enjoys this.

  I groan. It would be so enjoyable to take her here and now. My dick is throbbing with arousal.

  With heroic effort, I manage to back away from her instead of ripping her panties down.

  I step backward, heading for the back of the room.

  Not yet. I can’t fuck her yet. There’s so much more that I want to do to her.

  I’m just getting started.

  Chapter 12

  Maria

  I press my ass out into the air, waiting for the spanking to continue.

  Why is he making me wait so long?

  My flesh is stinging in the places he’s touched. A fiery sensation of warmth spreads over my ass, mingling with the heat that’s building between my legs. How is it possible that this feels so good?

  I never knew about this. I thought sex was supposed to be gentle, sweet. Loving. None of the things that Hunter does to me can be called gentle or sweet, and yet I’ve never felt more turned on than I do right now, waiting for his hand to strike me again.

  Where is he?

  I chance a look over my shoulder. To my distress, I see that he’s all the way across the office, rummaging around in some sort of armoire that I thought was just for show.

  I watch him pull out several items that look like they might be sex toys—I see an assortment of red leather straps, black wooden items that look sort of like cooking utensils, and black, fringed feathers. And what else? He’s carrying more that I can’t see. My heart flutters.

  What is going to happen next? Will I like it as much as I’ve liked everything he’s done to me so far?

  “Turn around,” he orders as he approaches the desk.

  Though I’m suddenly apprehensive, I do feel relieved that he is back. My worst fear is that he’ll leave me in this aroused state, as he did the night before. Now that he’s once again behind me, I feel confident that he won’t.

  My elbows are bent beneath my chest, holding me up as I lean on the desk. I arch my back slightly with anticipation.

  “Stay still,” Hunter orders. “And quiet. I don’t want others in the office to hear you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel the stinging sensation of something hard hitting my behind. Not a hand—this was harder, like wood of some sort.

  I turn my head, to see what he’s doing to me.

  “I said stay still,” Hunter orders.

  “Mmm.” I moan, trying to muffle my cries as the paddle strikes me again, this time on the other side.

  He strikes me again. I press my lips together as arousal builds inside of me. I want to cry out. I know I shouldn’t. The pain of the wooden paddle is sharper than the sting of his palm. I feel my flesh light up as soon as the impact occurs.

  I want him to do it again and again.

  I’m fighting to keep my lips sealed together. It’s hard to concentrate while I’m dissolving into the sensations—all new—that are pouring through me. The stinging, sharp pain starts in my ass and travels through me, lighting up my thighs, my core. Even my breasts feel alive and sensitive as he continues to strike
me with the wooden instrument.

  As abruptly as it started, the paddling stops. Without warning, I’m left fighting the urge to squirm and arch my back.

  I want more.

  Because I’m looking straight ahead, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder, I’m completely vulnerable. I can’t see what Hunter is going to do next. I only know what I want him to do.

  Take me.

  Take me from behind.

  Fuck me, Hunter, I beg internally.

  I feel him step closer to me. First, I sense his body heat, and then I feel his muscular legs lineup, flush with mine. He’s still wearing his pants; I can feel the soft fabric separating our bodies.

  His erection presses into me slightly, curving over the top of my bottom. I wiggle my ass against him. I can’t help it. I moan again, struggling to keep my sounds contained.

  “Quiet,” he demands again.

  I feel his finger slide beneath my underwear, over my pussy. It’s wet as he inserts it inside of me. I’m not sure if he licked it, or it’s my own juices that make his touch feel so lubricated. He presses into me and then pulls out.

  “You like being punished, don’t you, Maria?” Hunter asks as he peels the tight panties down around my legs, baring my pussy. His voice is a low growl. He runs his hand along my lower lips and then delves his fingers into me once again.

  I can’t answer him. I can’t speak. My mouth is pressed closed, my eyes are shut. I feel his fingers move in and out of me. He’s going to make me come with just his fingers. Again.

  In and out. In and out. His strong hand works magic inside of me.

  Then he pulls out. “Turn around,” he demands.

  I turn.

  God, don’t let this be the end, I think desperately. I feel almost crazy with need. Is this what it’s like to go insane? I can barely think straight. I’ve forgotten all about the complexity of our arrangement. All I know is that I want Hunter inside of me. Now.

  Luckily, this time he doesn’t leave me waiting. I sit on the edge of the desk, panting with desire as he pulls down his pants and frees his erection.

  As soon as he rolls on a condom, I know that he’s going to keep his promise. He’s going to satisfy me in the way I crave.

  He steps between my legs and roughly pulls me to him. I straddle him gladly, lifting my legs so they are in the air on either side of him.

  “Yes,” I whisper, as I feel the tip of his dick begin to part my lower lips. “Yes, yes!”

  His hands grip my hips and ass. His full erection plunges into my wet and ready pussy. I feel shock waves of pleasure and relief course through me as he enters me deeply.

  “Lie back,” he says in his dominant growl.

  I lean back until I feel the smooth surface of the desk against my back. Hunter leans his weight forward, driving his dick into me further.

  I wrap my legs around his back. Each time he thrusts into me, my excitement grows. Soon I’ve lost all control. I writhe beneath him as he pounds me against the desk. The cries that emerge from my lips as I come echo off the walls.

  An hour later, on the bus ride home, I feel every rut and pothole on the road. I’m tender and sore—the dull ache between my legs reminds me of the rough sex I’ve just had. But oh, that orgasm. It was the best I’ve ever had—including with Hunter after our night on the pier. How is it that sex with him keeps on getting better and better?

  I look out at the streets in a state of hazy satisfaction.

  Is what we’re doing wrong? Or have I just been conditioned to think that it’s wrong—like Hunter says?

  He’s been doing this for years, it sounds like. Maybe the more of these experiences I have, the less strange and taboo they will feel.

  The thought of Hunter’s sexual past makes me frown. I really had fun with him that first night. He asked me so many questions about myself and told all of those funny stories. Now, he seems only to be interested in our sexual arrangement.

  I lean my head up against the bus’s glass window and endure several more bumps as we turn onto a worn side street.

  Hunter may be acting differently, but that’s only because he’s intent on getting the most of the “experience” that he paid for. And I can’t blame him. After all, I’m in it for the money, which isn’t exactly a pure motivation.

  What will happen when these two weeks are over? I have no idea.

  The bus pulls up to my block, and I descend the steps, wincing slightly with each footfall. A bath will be good, and then maybe some ice packs to my groin. Plus, sleep. A good, solid night’s sleep.

  I want to be ready for tomorrow—whatever it might hold.

  Maybe Hunter will leave me email instructions again.

  Instead of annoyance, fear, or dread over finding an email from my new boss, I find a strange, novel sense of excitement blossoming up inside of me. I don’t think that I’ve ever felt so excited about going back to the office.

  Chapter 13

  Maria

  Beep, beep, beep.

  I wake to the sound of my phone alerting me to a text message. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and as I fumble blindly for my phone, I knock over a glass of water on the nightstand.

  “Shit,” I say as I flick water from my hand.

  Finally, accustomed to the darkness, I find my phone. It isn’t wet, thank goodness, and I pull it to me as I roll onto my back.

  The screen shows that it’s three in the morning. No wonder I’m exhausted.

  Several more full days and late nights have passed since Hunter first fucked me at the office. Each night when I arrive home, after “working” late, I crawl into bed and fall asleep the instant my head hits the pillow. It’s not hard to stick to Hunter’s imposed curfew of nine o’clock.

  I need my sleep. But more than that, I need to know that Camila’s okay. It must be her, and it must be an emergency. Who else would be texting me at three in the morning?

  I open my messages with a sense of urgency, already preparing myself for a phone call to my sister. “You should have called,” I’ll say. “It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the night.”

  But when I open my messages, I see that my late-night messenger is not my sister. It’s Hunter.

  Maria. I have a meeting tomorrow. I need you with me as my assistant. Be ready by seven a.m. I will have a staff car pick you up at your apartment. Have your bags packed—the meeting is in Brazil. Hunter.

  Seven in the morning…tomorrow? Or rather, since it’s now technically early morning, today? That’s four hours away!

  He must be out of his mind.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes and read the message slowly for the second time. Did I miss something? He must be talking about next week. He couldn’t possibly mean today.

  I finish reading. I didn’t misread his message. He does mean that I need to be ready to leave the country in four hours.

  He’s given me absolutely zero notice. It’s three in the morning!

  My blood pressure rises steadily as I become more and more annoyed. I hit reply and type a quick response.

  Not a chance, I write.

  I hit send, release my phone back onto the nightstand, and roll over in bed.

  I want to go back to sleep, but rather than sinking back into blissful oblivion, I’m becoming more and more awake. As the sticky cobwebs of sleep clear from my mind, I realize what I’ve done.

  I’m supposed to give Hunter the experience of being dominant, twenty-four seven. That’s what he’s paying me for.

  Shit.

  I roll over in the other direction and look at my phone. Is there a way to take back a text message, once it’s been sent?

  I reach for the phone, but before my hand is even on it, it begins to ring.

  It’s Hunter calling.

  I guess I’m not going to find out if I can retract the message because apparently, he’s already read it.

  My hand trembles as I pick up the phone and press it to my ear.

  “He
llo?” I say meekly. My voice crackles from lack of use. I wish I hadn’t spilled my water—I could use a sip of it now.

  “Maria, Maria, Maria,” Hunter says. “You should know better than to respond to me in that way. Such impertinence.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Are you? Are you really, or are you just saying that, so you can go back to sleep?”

  “I’m tired, Hunter. It’s the middle of the night—”

  “There you go again,” he says. “I own you, Maria. Did you forget? I can do whatever I will with you, whatever time of the day or night. For this arrangement to be a success, you must submit to me completely. You need to follow my orders, without hesitation. Did you forget?”

  He’s reminding me that my paycheck is not guaranteed. If I want that fifty grand, I have to fulfill his expectations.

  “I didn’t forget,” I say. “I wanted to take it back, right after I sent it. I shouldn’t have—”

  “That’s right,” he says. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t appreciate it when you talk back to me, Maria. I expect full submission.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “I don’t know if you’re fully committed to your role as my sub. You’ve been doing such a good job all week, but now this. I expected more from you, Maria. I expected you to say, ‘Yes, Mr. Larson.’ Say that now.”

  “Yes, Mr. Larson,” I say.

  “That’s better. Are you tired?”

  “Very.”

  “Good.”

  Good? What does that mean? Annoyance rises inside of me again, and I concentrate on stuffing it down.

  “You’re bothered that I’ve called so late?” he asks.

  “No,” I say quickly, though it’s not true. “No. You can call me anytime. You own me.”

  “Good. Good girl. I control you, Maria. Your wakefulness, your sleep. Your hunger, your satiation. Your desire, your pleasure, your pain. I control all of you.”