The Boss

by Abigail Barnette

  "No way, no way," Jake said. Never once, in our entire office friendship, had he let me pay my share of anything. Because female dollars are apparently worth less than male dollars. "Go get your eye shadow emergency under control."

  Ignoring the driver's protest, I got out of the cab on the left when the opposing traffic let up, and darted across the lanes to the sidewalk. I hurried back in the direction of our building, and when I knew I was out of Jake's line of sight, I ducked into a Starbucks and ordered a skim-milk latte and one of their plastic-wrapped sandwiches. While I waited, I checked my phone and considered Neil's last message.

  Even though what he was saying to me was pretty tame compared to what we had been getting up to in private, seeing those words on my phone's screen had the same effect on me as if he'd whispered them in my ear. My pulse pounded in my clit, and I knew my panties would be sopping if I kept thinking about this. Still, I thought I should probably say something back.

  And then I would get on my knees and suck the taste of my pussy off your cock, I typed, hoping none of the other customers would peek at my screen. I mean, if they did, it was their own fault if they got a shock. They shouldn't be reading over a stranger's shoulder, anyway.

  I hit send, then grinned to myself and started a new message: I'd suck you off until you exploded, then I’d swallow your cum. Maybe I would use your little platinum friend on you while I did it.

  There, that should have done it.

  I got my order and headed back to the office. I figured my cover story was safe, since the department had been on the edge of crisis ever since my very first day. I walked through reception, shooting a casual glance at the glass doors to Neil's office. Rats. He wasn't where I could see him. Deja looked up, and I waved with the three fingers I could spare while still carrying my lunch.

  I'd just settled in at my desk - okay, not my desk, a corner of a worktable that had been designated as my desk - when a new text came in. I grinned to myself. It was just one word: Jesus.

  * * * *

  At around nine o'clock that night, my phone rang. It was Neil.

  Shamefully, I had given him his own ringtone, Feist’s “Leisure Suite.” The sexy bossa nova beat purred from my phone’s speaker, and I scrambled to answer it, moving from the living room to my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

  I hadn't heard from him since his last text at lunchtime, so I figured I knew what this call was going to be about. "Hello?" I purred innocently.

  "You saucy little tease, I had to hide an erection from the photo editing department."

  "I'm sorry, who is this?” I asked with a giggle. “I give so many men erections while they’re in the photo editing department.”

  "I should take you over my knee," he said, a mock threat, since he knew that wouldn't be anything like a punishment for me.

  "Look, you're the one who started it," I reminded him.

  "That I did. And I'd like to finish it."

  I looked at my alarm clock and sighed. "I couldn't tonight. I have a really early meeting. Besides, staying over on a weeknight? That's a little too close to domestic for my comfort."

  "No, you're right, and I've got a big day tomorrow, too. But I assume you have Skype on your laptop?"

  Oh. Oh, that naughty bastard.

  "I do." I reached for my laptop and pulled it onto the bed with me. "What are you suggesting?"

  "Meet me on Skype in ten minutes," he instructed. "I've just sent my username to your email account."

  My heart fluttered. Okay, so did another part of me. "Yes, Sir."

  "See you in ten."

  I hung up and looked around my room. I locked my bedroom door - not strictly necessary, Holli never barged in without knocking. But I'd never done the internet sex thing before, and the extra measure was going to go a long way toward making me comfortable. Then I looked down at my jammies. While I love my froggies, they had to go. I found a pair of sexy black lace panties in my clean laundry and pulled them on. I fluffed my hair and positioned myself against the pillows. I dotted on some quick lip gloss - I didn't have time for full makeup, and I was way too tired. Besides, he'd said he liked me any way he could have me, and I was holding him to that.

  When I positioned the laptop between my feet, I was shocked at what the camera showed me. I looked pretty awesome, for someone with no makeup and hair that had been in a ponytail all day. The angle would give him a clear look at my whole body; my spread thighs, my panty-covered crotch, my tummy, my tits, my shiny, pouty lips, the entire package. I was already growing aroused at the thought of being displayed like this for him.

  I sat up and checked my email, then typed his contact into Skype.

  Within seconds, I had a call. I hit accept and the video icon, then hastily reassumed my position.

  When the call connected, I saw Neil, sitting on the sofa in his bedroom. His computer must have been on the coffee table in front of him. He was still wearing his shirt and trousers from work, though he'd lost the jacket and his sleeves were rolled back. He was also wearing a pair of glasses. I'd never seen him wear glasses before. It was unbearably cute.

  "Well, hello Poindexter," I teased. I rested one hand on my stomach, just above my panties, and the other on one thigh.

  "For Christ's sake, Sophie, you can't spring such a sight on a man. We need a little warning.” He chuckled, and pushed up his glasses. "Don't tease me. My contacts were giving me a dreadful headache. Consider my nerdy appearance the price you must pay for the wisdom and experience of an older suitor."

  "You're in your forties, not your eighties," I scolded. "Did you like my text message?"

  He reached for something off camera, a rocks glass with amber liquid in it. He took a sip, made a noise of approval, and answered, "Only if you mean ‘like' in the sense that I spent the entire day fighting the urge to find a quiet place to jack off."

  I giggled. "Don't start nothin', won't be nothin', you dirty old man."

  He took another drink from his glass before setting it aside. "I assume you're alone, then?"

  "I am. And I assume the same for you?" I lifted my head slightly, pretending to peer around him into the room.

  "Alone, locked door. Though I would much rather have you here than all the way down in Chinatown." He looked fleetingly sad.

  "Well, not all of us can afford Fifth Avenue," I snorted. "Are you going to feel sorry for yourself, or are we going to have sex?"

  He grinned at me, settling back on the sofa and tilting the screen so I could still see his face. "All right. Why don't you... play with your nipples."

  I lifted my hands to my breasts. "Like this?"

  "No hard touches yet. No pinching. You're going to tease yourself, the way I would tease you," he instructed.

  "Wait!" I remembered the cooling gel that had come with the sex toys he'd bought me. I leaned over to my bedside table, opened the drawer and found the small compact. "Might as well try this stuff out."

  "Excellent idea," he agreed with a slow smile.

  I dipped my fingers into the gel, then slowly drew them around the nipple of my right breast. I was shocked at how well the stuff worked; the moment it touched my skin, I felt like the standing air was a cold breeze. My nipple and aureole tightened into a hard peak, and goose bumps stood out on my firm skin.

  "Very nice," Neil complimented, and I turned my attention to the other breast, repeating my actions from before.

  I swirled my fingers around the pink tips in wide circles that narrowed with each pass. My breasts felt heavy and full, my nipples stood tall, practically begging for attention from my hands. I skimmed my palms over the sticky gel, my breath catching.

  "How does that feel?" he asked, and I let out a shaky sigh. His eyebrows flicked up. “That good?"

  "Very good," I murmured. "I never usually touch myself like this."

  "I find that very difficult to believe." He reached for his fly and tugged the zipper down. "Considering the greeting you gave me at the hotel."

  I ma
de a noise of impatience, drawing my fingers along the bottom curves of my breasts. "That's not what I mean. Most of the time, I just head straight down south."

  "Ah." He pulled his penis from his boxers. He was semi-erect and growing harder as he slowly stroked himself.

  My pulse sped up. I'd watched past partners jerk off before, and it had definitely turned me on. There was something shocking and intimate about watching a man touch himself. But they had always been doing it while watching internet porn. Not one of them had ever jacked off while watching me.

  "Take your panties off," he said, gliding his hand up and down. "Let me see you."

  It was with great reluctance that I pulled my hands from my aching breasts to slide the black lace over my bottom, up the slope of my bent legs to my knees, and then down. I knew I was wet, and that he could probably tell, with my legs spread apart the way they were.

  He sighed contentedly. "There. That's what I've been thinking about all day. I'd love to feel you right now."

  "I can feel me," I teased, reaching down to press two fingertips into my opening, just a tiny bit.

  "I see that." He smiled his half smile, lazily gliding his hand up and down that big cock.

  "I want you," I whimpered, circling my clit. "This is totally unfair, you know."

  "Didn't you wear your hair pulled back today?" he asked suddenly.

  "Y-yeah." Why did that matter?

  "Get the rubber band," he said, his hand stilling. "Let's try something."

  I reached across to my nightstand and grabbed the hair tie, holding it up so he could see. "What exactly are we trying, here?"

  "I'd rather be there to do this to you, myself, but I suppose since that isn't possible tonight, you'll have to do it," he said, his voice low and dark with the promise of something incredible to come. "Put the rubber band around your first and second fingers, and spread it out."

  I did as he ordered, trepidation creeping into my mind. "I think I know where this is going."

  "Do you trust me?" he asked, in that tone I was so used to obeying.

  "Yes, Sir," I answered. "Put the rubber band against your thigh, and use your other hand to snap it."

  I swallowed and placed the stretched hair tie against the top of my thigh. Neil made an admonishing noise. "Not there. The inside."

  I took a deep breath and moved my hand. The ponytail holder rested against the curve of my inner thigh, just above my pussy, and I grasped one side of the elastic, drawing it up between the thumb and forefinger of my other hand. Mentally counting to three, I let it go. Smarting pain blossomed in my skin, nothing I couldn't handle.

  "Oh, Sophie, you disappoint me," Neil scolded. "Harder. Let's see it leave a mark."

  I mewled in protest, but I pulled it up again, further this time, stretching the band tight. When it slapped back down, I yelped in surprise and watched as pink flushed my skin around a shocking white welt.

  "Very good." Neil was stroking his cock, rolling the foreskin up and over the head, then back down as he watched me. "Now, do it again, but this time do it to your clit."

  "Are you nuts?" I laughed in disbelief. "You want me to snap my clit with a ponytail holder?"

  "If I were there, I would do it for you," he said again, apologetically. "I can give you the command, if you like."

  "That's going to hurt like a motherfucker," I pointed out.

  "Yes, it is," he agreed. "But have we done anything yet that you didn't like?"

  "No," I admitted grumpily. To my dismay, I was aching, throbbing at the thought of that bee-sting of pain.

  Damn him for knowing me so well.

  "Then do as you’re told," he warned. "Or else I won't take you over my knee. As strange as that threat may be."

  I laughed and took a breath, positioning the hair tie over my mound. "Like this?"

  "No, of course not. Spread yourself open."

  With the two fingers stretching the rubber band, I parted my labia, exposing the hard button of my straining clit. I pulled the elastic up and held my breath.

  "There. That's not so bad, is it?" He reached for his glass and took a long swallow.

  I shifted my hips, dreading the pain, dreading the anticipation building inside of me. "I thought we weren't supposed to be tipsy doing this."

  "As I'm not physically doing anything to you, and you’re sober, I think we're safe." He nodded at me. "Do it."

  I held my breath. Knowing how it would feel, seeing the evidence of the welt on my thigh, could I do this?

  "Sophie." It was a warning. I was expected to do as my Sir commanded. A thrill shot through me. When we were together, I would do anything for him. And knowing that only made me hotter for him.

  I made a helpless noise of fear as I released the elastic. It snapped hard against my straining clit, and the resulting shock of pain cause me to gasp and jerk my hand away.

  "No, no," he told me. "Don't move. Don't close your legs."

  I wanted to squeeze my thighs shut to ease the burn. Holding them open prolonged the pain, and, strangely, intensified the pleasure I'd gotten from it.

  "Again," he ordered.

  It was more difficult the second time. I knew what it would feel like, the sharp sting, the lingering ache. But I also knew the pleasure behind it, the relief of receiving a touch, even a painful one, on my needy, tortured flesh. I let the elastic snap again and restrained my cry, so it became a high- pitched, thin noise behind my closed lips.

  "You want to touch yourself, don't you?" he asked. "You want to press your hand over yourself and ease that pain."

  "I do, Sir," I panted. It took real physical strength to keep my fingers from straying.

  "You may. Until I tell you to stop."

  I pushed my fingertips over my clit, groaning my relief, rubbing soothing circles over my tortured flesh. The aftermath of the pain had left me oddly numb, though I knew that I should be aroused by my touch. Soon, though, as the sting faded and my fingers picked up their pace, I could feel everything just fine. I lifted my hips a little, rocking against my hand.

  "I think that's enough." Neil's voice opened my eyes, though I hadn't even realized I'd closed them. Reluctantly, I pulled my fingers away.

  "Do you want to come, Sophie?" he asked. I couldn't take my eyes off the image of his cock on the screen. I felt so utterly empty. The thought that I would have to wait until the end of the week to be with him, that we would have to be in the same building every day and not be able to touch each other... I wanted to cry.

  Instead, I whimpered, "Yes, Sir."

  "All right. Three more with the rubber band, for a nice even five. Then I would say you'd earned it." His smile was deliciously malicious, and my cunt clenched on aching emptiness.

  I squeaked in outrage. "Five isn't an even number! Why not two more, for four?"

  "Why not four more, for six?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I looked away to roll my eyes and laugh. I really, really wanted to refuse, to rebel against the command I didn't like, yet at the same time... I really wanted to do as he said. In fact, I loved doing it. I would drop him in a heartbeat if he ever tried to order me around outside the bedroom the way he did in it, but it really pushed my buttons. It apparently even worked when we weren't in the same zip code.

  "Fine," I muttered. "Three more."

  Taking a deep breath, I positioned the ponytail holder and stretched it up, waiting for him to tell me when.

  "You can't possibly understand how much I want you." He stroked up his erection, pausing to squeeze the head, then slowly back down.

  "I think can," I panted, wetting my lips. Every part of me felt swollen and achy, from my lips to my breasts to my cunt. I wanted to come, and I knew I wouldn't until he was good and ready.

  I wondered what he would do if I "accidentally" let the elastic slip from my fingers. Would he tell me I couldn't come? Would I be able to come, if he forbade me? Or would some crazy part of my brain just cut off the ability to orgasm based on his disapproval alone? The
fact that I honestly didn't know scared me a little bit. Which in turn only aroused me more.

  My god, he was right. I was really good at being submissive.

  "I want to feel your pussy, the wet grip of you around my fingers." He took a shuddering breath. "Around my cock."

  My clit quivered. My voice did, too. "I want that, too. I want you to fill me up. Wear me out."

  He gave me a slow, enigmatic smile before saying, "Do it."

  I gasped when the band snapped me, a direct strike that caught the hood of my clitoris and sent razor-sharp shocks of pain down my legs.

  "That's one," Neil reminded me. "Are you wet?"

  "Dripping, Sir." God, I wanted to be there with him, to be on my knees in front of him, begging to suck his cock.

  "Show me," he urged, his hand picking up speed as I parted myself and pushed two fingers into my cunt. I withdrew them and held up the evidence of my desire, shining wetly in the blue light of the computer screen.

  "I wish I could taste you. Do it for me, Sophie. Taste yourself."

  I slipped my fingers between my lips, sucked them clean with a throaty moan. “Someone told me once that I taste like pineapple,” I mused aloud. “I don’t agree.”

  “Neither do I.” He sounded almost offended at the notion. “If I wanted pineapple, I would eat pineapple. When I eat pussy, I’d prefer it taste like pussy. And yours is fantastic.”

  “Oh god.” I shivered. “I might just come from the sound of your voice.”

  "You’d better not. Now, another snap, I think."

  This time, I couldn't help my cry. My flesh was on fire, wanting to be touched, dreading the pain all the same. And I still had one to go. Neil switched hands, reaching up to swiftly undo the buttons of his shirt. "When you come, I want you to remember who makes you feel this way. Who is that?"

  "You, Sir," I gasped. I needed to come. I had to. I would do anything, say anything. "You turn me on. You make me come. Just you."

  "One more and then I'll let you come," he promised, and his voice skated down my nerve endings like a caress. "Just once more."