by Rue Volley
“Victor, if this is about Chelsea, let me explain, please,” Grant began, but Victor held up a hand to silence him.
“Ms. Clemons explained things to me today. I had no idea she knew you so well, Kendrick.”
“Oh. Oh, yes, we have been friends for years. That’s why it was unethical for me to represent her in this case,” Grant said.
Victor nodded absently as he stood up and walked around the desk, his gaze trained to the floor. “Kendrick, your family was...blue collar, let’s say. Your father probably never expected you or your brother to hold down professions like this, working with my family. Especially you, being as young and naive as you are. You really proved him wrong.”
“I did,” he agreed.
“I envy your upbringing. You had much more freedom than I did. Less pressure. My father wanted to make a miniature version of him, just like his father before him and so on. He wanted me to be just like him, and for many years I was just like him. I ignored my own feelings to be what he wanted of me,” Victor said.
Grant was very surprised to hear a speech like this from the most closed-off man he knew. He was about to reply when Victor started talking again.
“I was fine with that life. And then do you know what happened?” His voice rose an octave. “Do you have any idea what all of a sudden sent my fucking world spiraling out of control?”
Grant shook his head, feeling a bit apprehensive. What had happened? What exactly was his temperamental boss going to do to him. Firing him was one thing. With Victor’s influence, he could ruin him; ensure that he never got hired again.
“You!” Victor cried, saying that one word like a curse. “You showed up! You’re a nobody; a colleague’s little brother who used to hang around us like a leech! And yet here you come, winning cases and somehow making it to my level!”
Grant was shocked. “Wait, Victor, I hope you don’t think I came in here to show you up. That was never my intention, I swear!”
“Maybe not. But you did it nonetheless. You made me feel inadequate. Like I’m not fit to run this company. The worst of all…” Victor stopped, clenching his jaw. Whatever he had to say, it was going to be bad. “You woke up the fear in me.”
Grant stopped short. “Fear? Victor, you have no fear.”
“Yes, I do. Fear of my inadequacy. Fear of you.” His eyes bored into Grant’s, and Grant began to feel a pricking at the back of his neck, like the kind that people get just before they’re mauled by a rabid dog or shot in the head.
“What did I do? What can I do to make it better? Victor, I want...oh, never mind.” Grant blushed, looking down at his shoes.
“How the hell do you sit here so calm?” Victor cried, pacing before him. “When every nerve in my body is singing, you sit here like you’re at the beach!”
“Do you know why I’m always so calm?” Grant asked. “It’s because I have no fears, not like you. I don’t let anything frighten me.”
Victor stopped pacing and gave him a glare. “No fears?” he scoffed. “Everyone has fears, you idiot. Don’t lie to me.”
Grant shook his head. “I’m not lying. Victor, I have never really been afraid of anything. And that’s your problem. You are afraid of who you are; of who you can be if you let yourself open up. You’re not some unfeeling machine, Vic. I know better than to believe that, even though Nick and my brother do.” He stood up, towering over his boss. “Let your fears go. Tell me what you really feel; what has your nerves on edge.”
Victor went across his desk and placed his palms on the flat surface. “You want to know? You want me to be brave enough to tell you what you do to me?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Grant said. He was torn. If Victor returned his feelings, it would be amazing. On the other hand, if he spewed more of his venom at him, it would break his heart.
“You frustrate me. With your laugh, that constant smile - even now - and your tireless enthusiasm, almost as if you were a wide-eyed child, but we both know better. You play a facade, hiding the man you really are. It drives me crazy! I don’t know if I want to slap you or—”
Grant widened his grin. “Or? Have no fears, remember?”
“Damn it!” Victor punched his desktop. “I never know whether I want to punch you or fuck you! There, are you happy now?”
Grant laughed, a sweet, happy sound. He knew he had to capitalize on this before Victor gathered his pride and built his walls back up. He leaned over the desk and took Victor’s collar in one fist and pressed a warm kiss to Victor’s pouty lips.
Victor was immobile at first, and just as Grant was about to pull away he started to kiss him back, his mouth pressing and insistent against Grant’s.
Grant ran his tongue along the seam of Victor’s lips, asking for entrance, which he granted. Grant’s tongue began a slow but forceful exploration of Victor’s mouth. He reached up and gently touched the smooth, sharp planes of Victor’s face, as he had longed to do for years. Victor’s hands suddenly pushed him away, and he realized his moment of bliss must be up.
He felt a tug in his chest and tried to remain positive. After all, at least he got a kiss. Victor strode back around the desk to his side, pressing Grant between the edge of the redwood and his hot, surprisingly hard body.
He yanked him down by his tie, crushing him into another hard, hot kiss. Victor bit Grant’s bottom lip, making him moan. he put his hand in his dark hair and tugged hard, yanking Grant’s head back. Victor began to kiss along his strong jaw line, down his neck, where he nipped gently at the soft flesh and then licked it to lessen the pain.
He chuckled darkly against Grant’s skin. “You’re quite expressive. I’m glad we’re alone.” His hands tugged on Grant’s tie again and began undoing it.
“Um, Victor...here? Really?” Grant asked, shocked. He wasn’t a virgin, but never had he had sex in an office with his superior.
Victor pressed against him, rubbing himself against Grant’s thigh. Grant let out a gasp of surprise at the thick hardness he felt beneath those blue pants. “Yes. Right here. Right now. I have waited long enough, Kendrick.” He ran his hand over the growing length in Grant’s pants. “I’m going to fuck you till you can’t remember anything but my name.”
Grant let out an involuntary moan at the words, right before Victor tore his shirt, popping buttons and revealing his wide chest and chiseled abs. He felt scrutinized as Victor looked him over like he was a piece of art rather than a man.
Victor bent down and pressed his tongue flat against one of Grant’s pert nipples before he gently began to suck on it, sending shivers down Grant’s spine. He gently bit it, causing Grant to groan as a bolt of heat and pain went straight to his already throbbing dick.
Fair was fair, and he tore off Victor’s shirt, making the smaller man give a grin that could have made him come right then and there. Victor was fair-skinned, and it looked like he knew his way around a gym as well as Grant did. His muscles rippled, and rock-hard abs gave way to a very trim waist, ending in a V going into his dress pants.
Victor’s hand went to his belt and he said, “On your knees, Kendrick. Now.”
Grant complied, saying, “You know, I have a first name.”
“And I’m going to silence that smart mouth of yours,” Victor replied, as he pushed his pants down, revealing a long, thick cock nestled in a bed of black hair. He grabbed a hank of Grant’s hair and pulled him forward, letting his hot mouth envelope his dick.
Grant tasted the hot saltiness of Victor’s precum as it was spread across his lips before he took the head in his mouth, tonguing the slit and then giving a hard suck. He took Victor inch by inch until he could feel the head hitting the back of his throat. Using one hand he started to massage his balls, keeping in time with his sucks on the hard cock in his mouth.
Victor groaned, tightening his grip in Grant’s hair. He held him still as he started to throat-fuck him, not too hard but more than Grant was used to as he struggled to keep up. He felt Victor stiffen his body before he
came in thick spurts, filling Grant’s mouth and dripping down his chin.
He pulled Grant to his feet and licked his own seed from his mouth before tugging at Grant’s zipper to finally free his aching cock from its confines. Victor took a moment to rub it with a soft, manicured hand. Grant looked down and saw that Victor was still hard.
He squeezed Grant’s cock, massaging it and tugging, while licking at his nipples again. Grant felt himself start to buck in Victor’s hand, and as Victor started to bite down on his nipple again, he felt himself ready to release, but Victor tightened his grip on the base of his cock, giving him a dry orgasm.
“Hey, I let you finish,” he complained.
“Yeah, but I’m able to go again. I don’t know if you will be,” Victor said. “Besides, I intend on giving you an orgasm so big you won’t be able to come again for a week.” He turned Grant around, bending him over his desk, scattering pens and papers everywhere.
Grant felt the hard desk pressing into his stomach, but he didn’t mind. Victor squeezed his ass, and then lightly slapped each cheek, making Grant yelp. It hurt, but judging by how his cock twitched, it was also a turn on.
Victor positioned his legs and spread his cheeks. Grant was very surprised when he felt Victor’s hot tongue pressing against his hole. Rimming him for a moment, teasing him. Victor slipped his tongue inside, thrusting it in and out. Grant was so turned on he could barely make a sound. He thrust his ass back further, earning him another slap. Victor moved, and Grant then felt one finger push past his entrance, moving slowly and teasingly. That was quickly followed by a second finger, scissoring and stretching him. He added a third finger.
“Fuck, Vic, please,” he begged, gripping the edge of the desk.
“Please what?” Victor asked, as Grant felt the tip of his cock at his entrance.
“Please take me,” he said and as soon as those words were out of his mouth he felt a sharp, quick pain as all nine inches of Victor was pushed inside of him. “Fuck!”
Victor held one arm around Grant’s waist and his other hand gripped against his throat as he started a fast, steady rhythm. He was so thick, Grant felt like his hole was tearing as he rocked back to meet him, thrust for thrust.
“That’s it, submit to me,” Victor said in his ear, shoving him harder against the desk. “Tonight you are mine.” He yanked Grant’s hips back, changing the angle so he hit his prostate straight on.
“Victor!” Grant cried, and suddenly the thrusting stopped and he was flipped onto his back, more on top of the desk.
“I want to watch you come,” Victor said, a wicked grin still on his face as he mercilessly thrust back inside again. As he thrust, he grabbed onto Grant’s cock and started jerking him off in time with his thrusts.
For minutes, all anyone could hear was skin on skin and Grant’s long, sexy moans. The two most eligible bachelors in the city, fucking in the office as if it were a porn film. Grant would have been embarrassed if he weren’t so turned on.
Finally, his endurance had reached its end and he came hard and long, drenching himself and Victor’s hand in his seed as he gasped for breath.
Victor didn’t stop his onslaught in Grant’s ass, hitting his over stimulated prostate again and again until at last he released himself deep inside of Grant, claiming him.
Victor rolled off of Grant, leaning next to him on the desk and breathing hard. They were both silent and, when Grant started to speak, Victor silenced him with a kiss.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, but I do know that you got me to face my fears about who I am, and I thank you for that,” he said, caressing Grant’s face.
Grant smiled. “See? It’s a good thing to have no fears.”
THE TOYBOX
H.G. Lynch
One
The crack of the leather as it meets bare flesh, the deep groan of pain and pleasure in one, the click of my boot-heels on the wooden floor as I circle my willing victim. These are the sounds of my nights in the city’s most infamous BDSM club, The Toybox.
“Please, Mistress,” pleads the man on his knees before me.
I snap the end of the riding crop under his chin, tilting his head up. He’s one of my prettier Submissives, with a cut jaw and a shock of blonde hair. He was also one of the least kinky. “Did I say you could talk?” I purr dangerously, and watch his eyes light up. His erection is straining against the tiny leather shorts he likes to wear and I can tell he’s one or two more smacks away from toppling over the edge.
He bites his lip eagerly, and I wait. “I asked you a question, Matt.”
His eyes widen. “No, Mistress.”
“No, Mistress, what?”
“No, you didn’t say I could talk.”
“Then why are you talking?” I circle him again and bring the crop down across the upper half of his back, where a lattice of red lines already mark his skin. He tips his head back in a howl of joy.
I do it again, and then come back around to face him. He’s flushed and sweating, staring up at me with a twisted kind of adoration. I kneel in front of him, taking his chin between my nails and whisper, “Time’s up.”
He groans, this time in disappointment. But he knows the routine. He holds out his hands, which I’d bound with leather cuffs. I release them, and then his ankles, which are similarly bound, and he collects his clothes from the chair in the corner of the near-empty room that is my office.
After he is dressed and gone, I sit down in the chair and sigh. My thigh-high leather boots are killing my feet, and the skin under my PVC corset is sticky with sweat. I keep the room warm for the comfort of my Subs, most of whom like to wear very little or nothing at all during our sessions.
I hadn’t always been a Dominatrix. I’d been a med student in University, but after my mother died of cancer, I couldn’t face treating patients who might have terminal illnesses. So I dropped out of Uni and found somewhere that was hiring. The Toybox wasn’t my first choice, but it’s good money and, in a way, I enjoy my work. It doesn’t get me off or anything, I’m not into it that way – I just find a sort of satisfaction in providing a service for people who couldn’t find that service elsewhere. I give people pleasure. I just sometimes have to use a little pain to arouse the pleasure.
And anyway, these boots are bitchin’.
Two
I have one more client today, a newbie I’ve never met before. The form he filled out indicates he likes to be tied up. He draws the line at being gagged. Alright. Simple enough. Then again, they usually are. I only handle what we call the “Light Players” – the ones who are a little kinky but not into anything too out-there. Mistress Ebony – or Kristy to me and her parents – deals with the more exotic clientele, the “Hard Players.”
I check my phone, tucked away inside the pocket of my satin skirt. It’s ten past four. My newbie is late. I hate it when someone is late, because usually it means they aren’t coming and I lose out on money. I wait another five minutes anyway.
Just as I think the newbie has chickened out and isn’t coming after all, the door to my office opens, and in steps Mr. Sex-on-Legs Newbie. Holy shit.
He’s a good four inches taller than me even in my heels, and he’s ripped. The white t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched taut across his torso so I can count his abs. Add in low-slung jeans, a tousled mess of auburn hair, and piercing green eyes, and I’m speechless. Breathless. Wet.
He glances at me and away – not submissively like my usual guys, but more as if he’s disinterested in me. That’s already a bit odd. I figure maybe he’s just shy…and then he starts taking his clothes off and I change my mind. He whips off the skin-tight t-shirt, then kicks off his trainers and drops his jeans to the floor. He’s standing there in tight grey boxers, and it’s all I can do not to drool as I stare at his ass. It’s round and taut and luscious – like an apple I want to take a bite out of.
He turns around and eyes me, and I realise I’m not doing my job. I’m just sitti
ng in this chair gawking at him. I stand as gracefully as I can in thigh-high boots with four-inch heels. I tilt my chin up and try to eye him with indifference. But it’s hard – like him. Every inch of him is sculpted, solid muscle, and already I can tell he’s not as disinterested in me as his passive expression would have me believe. His cock is pushing at his boxers, giving him away.
“I assume you’ve signed all the waivers?” I have to ask it every time. Can’t be too safe when it comes to lawsuits.
He nods abruptly. I pick up my whip. “Good. I’m Mistress Scarlet. You will call me Mistress, and only Mistress. If at any time, you wish to stop, you can use a safe word of your choosing and–”
His eyes narrow. “You’re the one who’s going to need a safety word.”
I shiver. That’s not part of this script. I stutter, “W-what?”
He takes a step toward me, and I think, Fuck. I know that occasionally, there’s the odd, violent client, but I’ve never had one before. I try to remember my training. Don’t back down, don’t show fear. That’s what gets them off.
But I must fail because suddenly his expression changes and he backs off. His passive-aggressive expression turns to confusion. “I’m sorry. I thought…they told me you were the Submissive.” His rough voice is much less terrifying with that note of apology in it.
I blink. “Sub. Oh.” My heart stops trying to break out of my chest. He’s a Dom. I go to the chair and check the form he filled out again – then I see it. The little box at the top that says Preference: Dominant is ticked. I’m so used to having Subs, I didn’t even bother to check.
“Ah.” I wave the form at him. “Sorry. I should have checked that part. I don’t often get Dominant clients – in fact, you’re my first one.”
