The Boss

by Abigail Barnette

  "Certified disease free." I handed over the print out. "Well, the diseases they tested for. I could still have Tuberculosis or something."

  His gaze flicked up to me before he briefly scanned the page. "Just a moment, I have mine, as well."

  He set his food aside and wiped his mouth with one of the chintzy paper napkins from the bag. Then he rose and retrieved his iPad from the counter by the wet bar. When he handed it to me, I whistled, impressed. "Your doctor emails you?"

  "It's an online chart, it will tell you everything you need to know." He paused. "And then some, so don't..."

  "Dig around in your fascinating medical history? I'll try to restrain myself." I looked over the pertinent information, noting with interest that his height was listed at 6' 2", his weight one-hundred seventy-eight pounds. "Okay. So... now that that's out of the way, and we covered the whole sub drop issue..."

  He smiled as my gaze drifted up to the loft. Chuckling softly, he said, "I've picked up on your subtle hint."

  I walked ahead of him up the stairs, grateful that my butt always looks so good in jeans. "I hope the bedroom isn't too 'vanilla' for you," I said, making air quotes as I gained the top step.

  "Anything we do here will be fairly vanilla," he assured me. "You're not ready for extreme. Besides, I don't have rope or a paddle, I don’t exactly travel with them.”

  He was going to paddle me eventually? A sudden rush of heat made me reflexively press my thighs together. "Well... you have your hand. And a belt."

  His closed-lip smile sent a wave of pure lust through me, so powerful my mouth dropped open and my breaths became more pronounced, my chest rising and falling visibly as he slowly walked toward me. The tight skin of his bare shoulders gleamed, so did his eyes as he looked down at me. It was so strange, how different he could be from one minute to the next. I'd read about that, too, the mindsets involved in Domination and submission. I wondered if I seemed different to him, too.

  The fact that I was too timid to ask kind of clued me in that I probably did.

  With one finger, he traced the long tendril of a fallen lock of hair down my neck, to my collarbone. "If I used a belt on you, you wouldn't sit down for a week."

  My eyes fluttered closed as a shiver of anticipation raced down my arms. I had to get myself under some kind of control. Didn't I? Or could he just do it for me?

  "Sophie, come back to me," he said gently, firmly, and I opened my eyes. "Nothing is going to happen tonight that you don't want. But I do have an obligation to protect you from yourself at this point. No belts. Would you like to pick a safe word, or shall we use the traffic light again?"

  "Red, yellow, green?" I ticked them off on my fingers. "That sounds good to me. Easier to remember."

  "Very good. And I trust you to use them. If there is anything you don't want to do, you need only use the safe word." He stepped back. "Undress, please."

  I didn't hesitate. I whipped my sweater off, revealing my pink bra with dainty black polka dots on it, and black lace edging the cups. I wiggled out of my jeans, revealing the matching thong.

  "Very pretty," he said, his lids heavy as he regarded me. "Now, take your hair down."

  As I reached up and began pulling out bobby pins, he walked in a slow circle around me. His voice was low and dark as he asked, "You enjoy spanking then, Sophie?"

  "I do." More than enjoyed it. My pussy clenched at the memory of that sweet anticipation, the moment before his hand fell.

  "'I do, Sir,'" he corrected me softly. "While we're playing, you will call me Sir."

  "I do enjoy spanking, Sir," I amended.

  "Did you like it the first time I spanked you?" He stopped behind me and sank his fingers into my loosened hair, gently shaking the rest free. Pins fell to the carpeted floor and I heard them, that was how heightened my senses became when he was near me.

  Concentrating was difficult, with his fingers moving languorously over my scalp. I bit my lip to stifle a moan before I answered. "Yes, Sir."

  "What did you like about it? Take your time," he advised me. His chest brushed my shoulder blades, and this time I couldn't suppress my whimper.

  He leaned down, so his lips were beside my ear. "What was that?"

  My clit throbbed in time to the slow circles he stroked through the roots of my hair. My hands strayed across the fronts of my thighs, tentatively covering my mound.

  He stilled. "Don't touch." It took a surprising force of willpower to drop my arms to my sides. "Answer my question, Sophie." His breath was hot across my earlobe.

  "Tell me what you liked about me spanking you."

  "I liked..." I licked my lips. I shifted my feet on the carpet, but it didn't ease the heaviness, the ache to be touched. I had a moment of fear; it had taken me only minutes to reach this intense state of longing. How would I make it through the rest of the night?

  Focusing on my answer helped. "I liked waiting for it. The anticipation. And the way it felt."

  "What did it feel like?" He withdrew his fingers from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders in a silky curtain. He moved away from me, only for a moment, to turn off the lamp. We stood in the near dark, with just the warm light from the lower level filtering up to us.

  "It hurt. In a good way. And it felt naughty, like I had done something I wasn’t supposed to." It was easier to speak when he wasn't touching me. "I wouldn't mind not being able to sit down. It's like a fun souvenir."

  I hadn't been so pleased with it while I'd been flying to New York six years ago, but I had just been left money on a nightstand after sex. My pride had been more bruised than my ass.

  His hands skimmed down my arms. "So, you view the spanking as a reward, rather than a punishment?"

  Goosebumps rose on my arms in the wake of his palms. "It wouldn't be a very effective punishment for me, Sir. I'd do bad things just to get attention."

  He laughed softly. “I'll have to think of something else, then." Coming around to face me, he said, "Take off your bra."

  My fingers trembled as I reached for the clasp. He watched me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. I unhooked the band and let the straps slide down my arms.

  He waited until I'd dropped the bra on the floor to reach for me. With one hand, he stroked a lazy circle around the pink tip of my breast. It must have taken him an amazing amount of self-control to stand there, unaffected, and I don't say that to flatter myself. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him; he was just somehow able to cover up his desire. To be patient, to take his time. When all I wanted was to have him inside me.

  Brushing back a lock of my hair from the top of my breast, he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth. I thought I might topple to the floor under the onslaught of sensation that battered me. He looked up, amused, and released me.

  "I think I will spank you tonight, Sophie," he said, his voice low and full of wicked promises. "If you are a very, very good girl."

  Chapter Ten

  "How do you want me to be good, Sir?" I asked Neil. I was breathless and bare under his gaze. My panties were absolutely plastered to my vulva, and I was certain my skin was moments from bursting into flame. The thought of earning what I desired, from the only man who could give it to me, ramped up my arousal to an almost uncomfortable level.

  “Answer a few of my questions. After today, I don’t want to make any mistakes with you.” He idly traced one fingertip around my nipple then went to the bed to sit on the edge. “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. We can push limits later. Tonight, we’ll start simply.”

  I couldn’t believe he wanted to talk at a time like this. Wasn’t he supposed to just throw me down and, you know, dominate me?

  “I already know how you feel about spanking,” he said with his half- smile. “What about oral sex?”

  “For me or for you?” I asked, and my clit was screaming for me, for me, for me! “Because I think you already know that I’m a big fan of having you go downtown.”

  “For both of us,
” he clarified. “How would you feel about sucking my cock?”

  Fuck, did he have to use that word? I was so freaking turned-on already. “Good question.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  I looked down at him and wet my lips. I couldn't believe what I was about to say, and when I spoke, the words didn't even sound like my own voice above the blood pounding in my ears. "I want to. I want to suck you off and swallow your cum.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  The safe-sex question had been bouncing around in my mind since that afternoon, when I'd received my test results. When would I be comfortable having unprotected sex with Neil, assuming everything came out hunky dory on his tests, too? And okay, maybe I should have consulted an objective party, or considered for a few days, because my thinking on the subject was going to be constantly clouded by horniness. But I'd decided that I trusted him, at least about this.

  Maybe not with plane tickets.

  “I’d like you to wear a condom when you’re fucking me. But I hate the taste of latex, we’ve both been recently tested, and it’s a lower-risk activity.” I made a face. “That last bit sounded like a pamphlet.”

  “As long as we do use a condom during intercourse, I’m comfortable with that,” Neil said after a moment. “As for safe words, we’ve discussed red, yellow, green, but if at any time you’re unable to verbally respond, you can signal to stop by showing me your fist and opening and closing your palm. Can you show me that now?”

  I did as he instructed. It seemed kind of strange to me, but the more we planned for what we were going to do, the more turned on I got. The experience was oddly reminiscent of being super hungry and trying to decide what to order at a restaurant. I shifted from one foot to the other, just to feel my panties rubbing me.

  “Very good. Is there anything you wouldn’t like to do tonight?”

  I thought about it a moment. “Um, no. Not really. And I’ll tell you if you do something I don’t like, but I’m open to pretty much anything that’s going to feel good.”

  “And is there anything in particular that you would like me to do to you tonight?” He stood again and closed the distance between us, but he didn’t touch me. He just stood there, looking down at me with his gorgeous, devious smile.

  My heart was beating somewhere in the vicinity of my collarbones. I thought my pulse might choke me. “I don’t want you to go too easy on me. Part of what gets me off when I’m with you is the way you tell me to do things, the way you can get a little rough. I don’t want you to smack the shit out of me, but don’t treat me with kid gloves. Make me submit.”

  “Is that an order?” He grinned. “That’s not terribly submissive.”

  I took a step forward, bringing my bare skin against his, and smirked up at him. “Maybe I need a better teacher.”

  His hand came up to lightly grip my lower jaw, his thumb pressing hard, but not painfully, into my cheek, and I gasped.

  “Do you?” His tone was completely different, a dark, low voice that was a caress and a bite all at once. My spine stiffened, my eyes went wide, and I shook my head as much as I could with his hand holding my face.

  “I can’t hear you, Sophie.”

  “No,” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “No, Sir.”

  "I would like you to start touching yourself." He left me and went to the bed. He watched my hand trail down my stomach, let me get almost to the Promised Land before he stopped me. "Not there."

  I pulled my fingers guiltily from the waistband of my panties.

  "Cup your breasts," he ordered, and I did, grateful to ease the aching pressure in them. My thumb strayed over my nipple, and he tutted disapprovingly. "I didn't say you could do that. Take your hands away."

  "I'm sorry, Sir," I whispered, and though I ached, I did as he’d commanded. I was dripping wet and throbbing. I felt high, actually high, from the barest physical sensation.

  He waited a long time, watching me with my hands at my sides, making nervous fists beside my thighs. He braced his elbows on his knees, one hand falling between them, like he was sitting in front of a television and not a desperate, panting woman. "You're doing very well."

  "Please," I moaned. My breasts were tight and hot, my nipples hard peaks. I had to touch them. The air in the room hadn’t seemed chilly before, but I shivered slightly, and goose bumps raised on my skin.

  "Please what?"

  "Please, Sir, let me..." What? Come? I knew there was no way. We'd just barely started, and he’d been willing to let me go the entire weekend. "Touch myself," I finished, my voice a pathetic whimper.

  He waited for an eternity, considering. His gaze moved up and down my body. I swore I could feel it.

  "Nothing below the waist," he said finally. His eyes fixed on my fingers as I rolled my nipples against my thumbs. “What do we say now, Sophie?”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I groaned. Standing before Neil, touching myself the way I was, I had this crazy thought that I wasn’t me. I was some other Sophie, who had no rules or obligations. No worries. No student loans. Every mundane detail of my life melted away, and I was just some girl in some hotel room, doing whatever it took to get fucked by the man sitting in front of me.

  Unbelievably, the familiar sensation of the beginning of an orgasm coiled behind my clit as I pinched and tugged my nipples. Growing bolder under his stare, I dropped my head back with a loud moan.

  "Don't come."

  My eyes snapped open, and I straightened, my fingers stilling. He was absolutely serious, a little bit cross with me, even. Though I knew we were just pretending, excitement licked through me like white-hot flame.

  He rose and walked slowly behind me once more. Grabbing my hips so suddenly that I gasped and staggered slightly, he forced me to bend at the waist and brought our clothed pelvises against each other.

  "You will be allowed to come tonight. But not yet. Not right now." My cunt clenched at his words. “You’ll beg me to let you come, first, and then you’ll beg me to let you stop."

  Beg to stop coming? I couldn't imagine asking for any such thing. That would be like asking to be denied air or food. I ground back on him. He released me, one arm sliding along mine to catch my hand and steady me on my feet.

  “Get a pillow. Place it in the center of the foot of the bed, and lay across it on your stomach with your ass propped up.” He gripped the back of my panties and tugged them down, just slightly. “And drop these to your knees when you’re in place.”

  I thought I might come from the friction of walking. I was in so much trouble. I wondered when I could reasonably begin begging.

  My hands shook as I positioned the pillow as he’d told me. I lay down, taking a slow, deep breath as my warm skin touched the cool white duvet.

  He stood at the end of the bed, looking at me, and I wriggled a little as I pulled my panties down. “Just to my knees, Sir?”

  “Right...” his fingertips followed my panties from just below the curves of my buttocks, across the ticklish backs of my thighs, to the bend in my knees. “There.”

  I squirmed, my breath catching in my throat.

  One big, warm hand stroked my back, raising tingles on my spine. When he reached my hips, he lifted his hand, and I tensed for the first blow. But he didn’t spank me. Instead, he gently rubbed his palm over a bare cheek. He abruptly raised his hand again, and again I tensed. I willed myself to relax. It would come.

  “How hard do you like it?” he asked, his fingertips skimming along my crack.

  “Hard?” I asked uncertainly. “Pretty hard?”

  “Like this?” When his hand connected with my backside, it shocked me. It was no love tap, but a stinging hot slap. The pain spread in a delicious halo from the place where he’d smacked me, and I jerked, muffling my groan in the bed.

  "Harder or softer?" He leaned down and brushed his lips over the burning spot he’d created.

  "Harder," I whimpered.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, affronted. “Harder, Sir,�
�� I amended. Then, “Harder, please, Sir.”

  “Good girl, Sophie.” Another blow fell, definitely rougher than the last. I shouted, a mixed

  sound of relief and pain. Neil clucked his tongue. “I am more than happy to spank you exactly

  as hard as you wish, but we are in a hotel room. You’ll have to keep your voice down.”

  Keep my voice down? I grinned to myself, hiding my face in the bed. Neil didn’t care about the neighbors, if his off-key shower concert had been any indication. I’d read the books; I knew that a Dom might ask a sub to stay quiet as a control exercise.

  “Can you spank me again, Sir?” I asked, pumping my hips against the pillow.

  This time, the slap he gave me made me yelp loudly in surprise.

  "If you can't stay quiet, I’ll gag you," he warned. "And don't tell me how to do my job."

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” And was I ever sorry. I had just learned a pretty important lesson about the difference between a punishment spank and a fun one, I realized.

  Neil smoothed his hand over my skin. His fingertips eased between my cheeks, and I held my breath as they skimmed down. “Was that hard enough for you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I moaned, moving my hips just slightly, urging him along.

  “Do you need another?” A finger slipped into my cunt. He slowly, easily pushed in, and made a low sound in his throat. “I think you might. Do you want one?”

  I did want him to spank me again, but I didn’t want him to stop what he was doing with his fingers.

  “Ask me, Sophie. Nicely.”

  “Please, Sir.” I gasped and panted, moaned and writhed. His fingers withdrew, tracing my wetness over my slick, swollen labia. He parted me gently, circling the opening of my vagina, dipping in just barely, retreating, dipped in again, deeper, more with each maddeningly slow motion, until my legs were trembling.