by Abby Wilkes
I smile down at her, gently stroking her left cheek with the tip of my finger. "You are so adorable, so delicate. I want to do unspeakable things to you. All these months—it wasn't easy. I tried so hard to dismiss these misplaced thoughts."
"You won't have to much longer" she breathes. "You’ll only be my boss for another few hours. After that—who cares?"
I smile. "Yes. That's true. But still…"
I pause for a moment, my gaze alternating between her eyes and the pendant at her neck.
"What?" she presses.
"I don't know if I would feel comfortable doing this," I explain. "You have been our intern, and you're so much younger than me. It’s highly unprofessional and new to me. To feel this drawn to someone like you."
"I understand," Lacey says. "But you can trust me, I won't tell anyone. It could put me in a bad light just as much as you."
"I trust you," I reply. "But I don't want to hurt you by feeding you false hopes."
"False hopes?" she wants to know.
"You see, I’m not looking for anything. Not a relationship. Not even a play partner," I say. "We can call you my submissive, if that’s what you want, but I have a tendency to withdraw myself from anyone I’ve been with after only one time playing. I'm afraid I might do the same to you."
She looks at me, pondering my words. "If you trust me, why be afraid?"
"I don't think you understand," I say. "My emotional setup is not made for anything long term. For romance, or anything that comes even close to it. Usually, all I crave is that one explosive night, that one encounter. One night of liberating play. And then I’m done."
Lacey surprises me with a cute chuckle. "Well, we already had that night, though. Didn't we?"
I return her smile and shake my head. "No, little girl. That was just us testing the water."
“I'd much rather have you only once than never,” she says. "Look, I may be young. But not stupid. I’m not looking for a husband or anything. Why do you think one time couldn't be the best thing for me as well? Maybe that’s just what I need right now."
"Are you sure? You don’t even know what it’s like."
“What? Getting fucked?” she asks.
“Exactly.”
“Maybe,” she agrees. “But I want to know. And I want you to show me. If this is just a one time thing, that might make it all the more special to me.”
She pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Besides, you're my ex-boss," she jokingly says. "Don't you think it would be a little troublesome for me to have you in my life like this in the near future?"
She’s actually making a good point here. And she’s looking so damn enticing right now, that it’s becoming harder and harder to resist her, even with all the implications.
"Well, alright, young lady. We appear to be on the same page, even more than I thought," I say.
"Yes, Sir. I assure you we are."
She leans forward, hoping for a kiss, but I put my hands on her shoulders, keeping her at distance, as hard as it is.
"No," I say, decisively. "Not now, and certainly not here again. I want to do this properly."
She sighs with disappointment.
"Are you free tonight?" I want to know.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I have plans with Beth tonight."
"My own employees getting in the way of me having fun," I retort. "Nothing but trouble, that bunch."
"How about tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow. Let's make that our night," I say, as I sit down in my chair. "At 7? I’ll pick you up."
"You don't have to do that!" she tries to protest, but of course, that’s futile.
"I want to," I insist. "You have no say in this."
She looks at me, a little startled.
"You understand?" I ask her, raising my eyebrow in a warning.
She nods. "Yes, Sir."
Chapter 12
Lacey
So, here I am. On a date with my—now former—boss. As can be expected on a date with a dominant man like him, he did voice a few requests for our meeting. The first was for me to not drink too much the night before, when I was out with Beth. That one was easy for me to follow, as I never drink excessively.
The second request is concerning—the way I would dress for the night.
"Don’t worry too much,” he said. "You won’t wear your clothes for long anyway. But I would love for you to wear a dress or a skirt, and no tights. Stockings are more than welcome, though.”
I know that most women would freak at the notion of a man telling them what to wear—and more so, to wear stockings—on their first real date. It’s this knowledge that causes me to find myself in constant battles when I agree to follow orders such as these so early on. Should I not? Am I too compliant if I do as he tells me to—on our first date?
Then again. It’s most likely our last date as well. Why not pour everything I have into it? Truly make it count?
And I remember the night in his office. His skillful hands, that unseen body I want to explore, the promise for so much more, everything I love. The sheer pleasure these things give me. And I cannot deny my body’s reaction. I chose a rather short, black evening dress and black silk stockings for the night—and I’m already wet just getting dressed for him. The thought of him realizing that I’ve complied, that I want to be a good girl for him. And the reward I’d receive…
I never imagined my first time to be this exciting. From the looks of it, waiting was very well worth it!
He does indeed pick me up from my place, but not the way I expected him to. The car that he invites me to get into is actually a black limousine. And he’s not driving himself, but has a chauffeur who takes care of that.
I’m startled, to say the least.
"Nice ride,” I comment as we take our seats in the back of the car.
The driver starts the engine right after I enter the car. He’s secluded from us by a dark glass wall that seems to be rather sound proof.
Or so I hope during the conversation that follows.
Mr. Cooper smiles at me and reaches forward to a mini bar, producing a bottle of champagne and two small glasses.
"I thought we might as well do this right,” he says. "But don’t get me in trouble.”
He winks at me.
“In trouble for what?” I ask. “For giving me champagne or for what we’re about to do later?”
Mr. Cooper laughs.
“For both, actually,” he says. “But I meant the champagne in the first place.”
He hands me both glasses and starts to work on opening the bottle. Unlike me, he knows how to do this very well and does not release a fountain of champagne, wasting half of the drink and ruining the leather as I probably would have. The cork is safely freed into his hand and he doesn’t even spill one drop as he pours the exquisite drink in our glasses.
"To you, young lady!” he festively exclaims as he raises his glass to me. "One of the best interns our agency has ever seen.”
I sheepishly smile and clink glasses with him. The champagne is delicious, far better than anything I’ve ever tasted. Then again, it’s probably not among the lower rows in the supermarket, where I would usually buy my drink of choice.
"So, are you ready to be my little fuck toy tonight?” he nonchalantly asks after taking the first sip.
I almost spit out my drink, surprised to hear such a direct remark from him.
"Mr. Cooper…” I whisper, blushing and grinning like a little girl. I have no idea why, but it’s exactly things like these that cause me to feel so drawn to men like him. Dominant men who know what they want and who aren’t afraid to be verbal about it. Men who say inappropriate things that normal people wouldn’t say out loud in a situation like this, yet remain polite and respectful while they do it. Not an easy balance, and a combination that’s rare.
"Isn’t that why you’re here?” he adds. "To please me? Serve me? Be mine for the night and get used in ways most girls don’t even dare to dream about? T
o be my little slut?”
His eyes are on me, carefully observing my reaction. He knows he can only say these things because I want him to. Because it triggers a switch in me that makes me shift in my seat and fiddle with my hands, unsure of what to do. Intimidated and aroused, just by his words—and the way he looks at me.
He’s completely calm, in control and obviously enjoying the view of me slowly breaking into subspace.
I faintly nod.
"Say it then,” he commands. Of course.
I look at him, still with that sheepish smile on my face, completely happy about being where I am. But my eyes are begging him to leave me be. To not make me say out loud what appears to be so obvious. It’s one thing for him to say it, but entirely different if I’m asked to do so.
"I… I…” I stutter.
Why is this so hard?
He sighs and puts his glass away, placing it in a little holder next to the mini bar.
He leans over to me and places his hand on my knee. Without saying a word, he slowly moves his hand upwards, under the fabric of my dress, until he reaches the lace hem of my stockings. He smiles triumphantly.
"Look what a good slut you are for me already,” he whispers. "And yet, you cannot say it out loud?”
I blush and shake my head.
"I want you to, though,” he keeps pressing. He gently pinches the skin on my upper thigh. "Say it.”
"I’m your little slut,” I blurt out. "Your fuck toy.”
"And what do you want?”
"To please you,” I breathe as he starts moving further, getting closer to my warm center. "To serve you, Sir.”
"Mhm,” he goes. His hand has reached the fabric of my thong. He subtly beckons me to spread my legs by pinching the inner side of my thigh.
I obey and move them apart so he has more leeway.
"Good girl,” he whispers.
He starts stroking along my folds, only the thin fabric of my thong between my wetness and his fingers.
"You are burning, little girl,” he comments. "Are you wet?”
I nod. "Yes, Sir.”
"Why is that? Tell me.”
"You, Sir,” I whisper, closing my eyes in embarrassment. "It’s because of you."
"Is that so,” he whispers.
He turns around to the front, momentarily staring at the blackened glass wall that separates us from the driver.
"We'll be on the road for a while," he says, now looking back at me. His hand is still between my legs.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"A safe place."
I raise my eyebrows. "That sounds as if you're kidnapping me."
"Maybe I am," he says. "I want to keep the risk of us being seen together as minimal as possible. That's why we're taking a little drive."
"Into the woods?" I joke.
He laughs and shakes his head. "Silly girl. Will a nice hotel suite do as well?"
I shrug. "We'll see."
"We'll see, huh," he breathes, moving the fabric of my thong aside so he can reach my skin.
I moan as he reaches my sex. He parts my lips with two fingers and wanders between them with another.
"You are dripping," he assesses, humming with approval. "What a good girl, so eager and ready for me."
His finger circles around my clit, causing me to squirm beneath him. I close my eyes and move my hips forward, sinking lower in my seat to greet his hand between my legs. Fuck, it feels good, he's so great with this.
"Oh, oh, watch it!" he warns, slightly pinching me at my most sensitive spot.
I flinch and open my eyes to look over. My champagne glass! I completely forgot about it and spilled some of it on the leather. Damn!
I tilt the glass back so it won't spill anymore and look up at him. His expression is stern.
"Clean that up," he whispers and withdraws his hand.
I straighten myself up and place my glass in the holder next to where he put his. I look around for a napkin or a towel, but can’t find anything close to it.
"What should I use?" I ask.
"Your tongue," he says.
I turn around and look at him in shock. "Wha—"
"Go ahead," he adds, nodding towards the few drops of champagne between us. "Get on your knees and lick it up."
His voice is unyielding, allowing no back talk. He looks at me, stern but caring. I would like to see his face when I actually follow his order.
So I do it. The limousine is quite big and has a lot more room in front of the back seats than a normal car. I get on my knees and position myself, facing the seats. His eyes are fixated on me the entire time. I can practically feel his gaze on my back as I lean over to lick up the spilled champagne.
It tastes weird, but not as bad as I expected. The leather is rather new and clean, and it hardly adds to the taste of the champagne itself. I make sure to lick up every little drop and leave it completely clean before I dare to straighten and look at him, seeking affirmation.
"Good girl," he whispers while looking down at me and petting my head. He looks pleased. My heart jumps at the words. I crave to hear them as often as possible tonight.
I make an effort to get back on the seat next to him, but he stops me.
"If I remember correctly," he says. "You’re dripping wet. Your underwear must be sticking to you as we speak."
I blush and try to look away. But he stops me by grabbing my chin, turning my head back up to him.
"No reason to be ashamed," he says. "I just want you to be more comfortable. Take it off."
I look at him for a second. "Now?"
He nods. "Yes. Now. Take your panties off and hand them to me."
"Yes, Sir," I whisper.
He lets go of my chin and watches me as I reach beneath my dress. Just as he said, my thong is sticking to the wetness between my legs. I slowly pull it down, instantly feeling terribly exposed, even though my dress is still covering my naked center.
I awkwardly step out of it while still on my knees, which is not an easy task with such small space—and while inside a moving vehicle.
I hand it over to him and gasp with embarrassment when he puts it up to his face, smelling it with relish.
He smiles at me as he puts it aside
"Come here," he whispers, opening his legs for me to crawl between them.
I do as I’m told and kneel before him. He reaches around my upper body, pulling me a little closer before he wanders down my back, beneath my skirt, until his hands are on my behind.
"You have such a cute little ass," he breathes close to my face as he starts kneading my ass cheeks. "Would you let me enjoy it tonight?"
I look at him, unsure what he means. Until I understand.
"Anal?" I ask, my voice so low it’s hardly audible.
He nods. "Yes, little girl."
"Yes, Sir," I reply. "I would love that."
"Good girl," he says. "Now, we still have a few minutes left until we reach the hotel I’ve picked for us. What do you think we should do until then?"
I ponder for a moment and look down at his lap. He is hard. I can see the bulge clearly beneath his suit pants. I look back up at him with pleading eyes.
"I would really like to see it," I whisper.
He smiles. "See what?"
He knows very well what I’m talking about. Again, he just wants me to say it.
"Your cock, Sir," I obediently reply. "I would love to worship it until we get there."
His smile grows bigger. "Good girl. That sounds like a perfect idea."
He lets go of my behind and leans back, looking at me with anticipation.
"Go ahead then," he says, beckoning me towards his lap.
I don't need to be told twice and immediately reach for his bulge, softly stroking it above the fabric of his pants. He instantly gets harder under my touch—and he must be of considerable size, from what I can tell. I gently massage and stroke him for a few moments, until he starts moaning and moving his hips, begging for more. Only then do
I reach for his fly and open it.
His erection springs free as I pull his underwear down as far as I can with him sitting and a smile appears on my face. He’s beautiful. Straight and meaty—and indeed of a good size, both in length and girth. Already, he is completely hard, his tip glistening with precum.
My fingertips hardly touch each other as I wrap my hand around him to jerk him off. Slowly at first, with a gentle grip that grows harder with every motion.
He moans and lets his head fall back, enjoying my hand around his cock.
"Suck on it," he hisses without looking at me.
"Yes, Sir," I breathe.
I lean forward, bending over to take him between my lips. The gesture is accompanied by a loud moan from him. He slightly pushes his hips upwards, urging on to take him in deeper. But I don't do him that favor just yet.
Instead, my tongue circles around his tip, teasing his most sensitive area on the lower side of his glans. It drives him mad. I notice his hands twitching next to me. He wants to push me down, he’s desperate for it.
I increase the speed and intensity of my motions, licking and teasing his glans from all sides. I moan as I gently wrap my lips around his tip again, licking off more precum and gently sucking on him.
"Oh for God's sake!" he exclaims, not willing to wait any longer.
He grabs the hair at the back of my head and slightly pulls me up before he pushes me down with one brute shove. All the way down. I remember to inhale just in time, but still choke on his massive length as he brutally hits the back of my throat.
He forces me to stay there for a while until I start gagging and coughing. Saliva is running down the sides of my mouth as he suddenly pulls me back up again, triumphantly smiling at me.
Just as I return the smile, he pushes me back down, repeating what he’s done before. He throat fucks me for a while, pushing himself down my throat as far as possible, quickly alternating between pulling me up and pushing me down on him.
Tears and saliva grace my face as he pulls me up one last time, still grabbing me by the hair.
He leans forward and plants a little kiss on my right cheek.
"We're almost there, baby girl," he whispers. "Time to finish the job."
He lets go of my hair and I instantly lean forward, taking him in again. I’m glad he lets me finish him off on my own account.
