His touch was light, but the sensations were so intense that they were straddling the border of pain and pleasure. The knowledge that she wasn’t in control transformed it. She wasn’t going to go anywhere. If he did nothing but play with her breasts until midnight, she wasn’t going to stop him, no matter how sore her calves got from kneeling or how sensitive her nipples got.
I am a plaything. A toy. I don’t need to worry about anything.
Not even the fact that she was so wet she worried about dripping on his expensive rug.
“Would you like pain, little one?” he asked.
“If it pleases you to give it to me.”
“A yes or no question.” He withdrew his hands.
It wasn’t that simple. With anyone else, maybe she just would have said yes. She had so many times before. With Blake it was more complicated. She tried again. “If it pleases you, then yes, please give me pain, Sir. Then I want it. If it doesn’t, then it would mean nothing to me.”
“You hardly know me. How can pleasing me be so important?”
You have no idea. “I don’t know, Sir. Something in you calls to me. It may be nature rather than rationality.” Her mind raced, trying to make it seem sensible. “The beta female, responding to the alpha male, knowing instinctively that it’s right. All I know is that I wish to please you, and that anything you do to me that pleases you will be right.”
“Anything?” The disapproval was evident in his voice.
She risked a look up at him. “Is there anything you wish to do to me that I should object to, Sir?” She had to be careful and remember that as far as he knew, she had no reason for trust. “You know my limits.”
“And I intend to test them. Refresh my memory.”
She doubted very much it needed refreshing. She knew from work that he rarely forgot anything, even if it was trivial. “Leave my hair alone and don’t move my mask. Condoms for intercourse. No breaking the skin.”
“You left something out you included last time.”
She couldn’t remember what it was. “I’ve played with you once, Sir.”
“May I mark you again?”
“Yes.” She took a breath. There were limits to that, not because she wanted there to be, but the fact was, she couldn’t risk him seeing a mark at work. “Nothing that would be seen in a mid-length skirt. Or…” She hesitated, thinking she needed to put her upper breasts off limits as well, given what she’d been wearing lately. But she could, if need be, wear more conservative tops. Blake would hardly demand to see her breasts at work, even if he had been looking a wee bit longer lately when she flashed them at him.
“Or?”
“Neck. It’s too warm to wear scarves.” Would he want to mark her breasts? She didn’t want to be hit there. But if he wanted to leave a mark by sucking on her skin, that would be fine. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to anticipate. She didn’t want to think. Just listen, obey, and feel whatever he chose to do to her.
“I will not mark your neck or your legs. Look up, C. And put your arms behind your head.”
She smiled. She knew what the position would do, and probably why he requested it. She felt her chest stretch as she moved her hands, her breasts standing up just a little straighter for his attention.
He brushed his thumbs across her nipples again and then pulled a chain out of his pocket. She recognized the clamps that hung off each end as Japanese clover clamps that would go on tight and get tighter at the slightest tug on the chain. Pain, pure and simple, and there was no doubt where they were going. She didn’t for a moment think she would enjoy their presence.
Nonetheless, she arched her back, offering her breasts to him, and stayed still as he attached first one, then the other. She focused on her breathing, soft and regular. It helped her to feel the pain but still feel apart from it. The pain is something I feel. I am not the pain. I am my breath. I am a vessel for his pleasure.
“Do you wish to serve, C?”
“I do. Please.”
“I’ve been thinking about tonight all day at work. Unzip me. Show me what you can do with your mouth.”
She slid forward and reached up to unzip him. Her legs were aching, and her nipples felt like they were on fire. She doubted very much anything would be done to relieve either until she satisfied him. I suffer for his pleasure.
It had been something lacking once. Her suffering had no reason, and it had no meaning. It helped no one. If she was going to hurt, she wanted it to be for a purpose.
He wore no underwear, and his cock was large and hard in her hands. He was circumcised. As she squeezed his cock, a bead of precum formed at the end of it. She had known it was big from how it felt inside her, but this was the first time she had seen it, and she wanted to stroke it with her hands and explore it slowly. But that was not what she had been asked to do.
She tugged at his pants, and he lifted himself enough that she could pull them down to mid-thigh. Then he settled back down into the chair.
She licked the tip of his cock and tasted him. He was salty and sweet. She slid her lips over the head and pulled him deeper into her mouth, inhaling his deep masculine scent. She was not going to be able take him all, even though she wanted to. Perhaps with practice she could relax her throat enough. Perhaps I should ask him to train me.
If this lasts that long, he’ll discover who I am.
She pressed her lips firmly around the shaft and started bobbing up and down on him. He had not precluded her from using her hands, so she started pulling on the part of the shaft her mouth would not cover, stroking him with one hand while fondling his balls with the other. With every motion the chain between her breasts swung and tugged, urging her on.
“Do you wish me to come in your mouth, little one?” he asked. He rested his hands on the back of her head. She had a moment of fear for her wig, but as long as he didn’t pull, she was fine.
Her only answer was to speed her efforts. His fingers tapped on the back of her head, and he swelled in her mouth. She knew he was close. Soon he spurted deep against the back of her throat. She swallowed and kept swallowing as his cum continued to pour from his cock. She could taste it on the back of her tongue, strong like whiskey.
She kept sucking on him until he pushed on her shoulders.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said.
His eyes widened. “I should be thanking you.”
She shook her head and looked down at the floor again. “No thanks is ever necessary.”
“It makes you uncomfortable?”
It isn’t why I do it. But she went with the simple answer. “Yes.”
“You’ve been on your knees long enough. Stand.”
The abruptness of his order made her tingle. She craved his touch. Her pussy ached for it. She stood in front of him, the chain swinging from her breasts. The sharp pain had faded to a dull ache. She knew they would have to come off, but she was dreading that, too.
“You’ve been clamped before?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His hands stretched out towards her breasts, slowly and ominously. “Then you know.”
That they hurt worse coming off than going on? “Yes, Sir.” She steeled herself not to make a sound.
He stood and tugged the chain, just as she expected him to release one of the clamps. The clamps tightened, as they were designed to do. She gasped loudly. It hurt in a way she hadn’t been expecting.
“Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to cry out.” Worse, a tear rolled down her face and joined by another, it made its way under her mask and into view.
“Your cries are a gift, C. As are your tears.” He brushed the wetness from her cheek with the back of his hand.
He’s more of a sadist than I thought. But she wasn’t there to be wined and dined.
He tugged the chain again. She made no further sound, but the tears continued to roll down her face. It stung. She didn’t pull away. She spread her legs for stability, and perhaps in the hope that he might touch her needy pussy. If he liked her
tears, so be it. She would take pride in each drop that coursed down her cheeks. He held the chain so that it stretched her nipples and pulled her breasts forward.
“Thank you, Sir, for letting me cry for you,” she said through gritted teeth. She wasn’t feeling all the way thankful, but she wanted to impress him.
“You’re an amazing creature, C,” he said. “And a beautiful woman. I wish I could see behind the mask.”
She shook her head. “You’d be very disappointed.”
“There’s something more than your identity, then, that you hide?”
“Scars,” she lied. It was hard to talk with her nipples pulled like that, and hard to focus. “Please. Leave it. This way I can be beautiful for you.”
“You think I am so shallow, do you?” He let go, and she breathed heavily to recover. “You do me a disservice.”
“Punish me, Sir, if you wish. But the mask stays.”
“Women and vanity.” He smiled slightly. He slipped his hand between her legs, his fingers sliding across her wet pussy lips. They entered her without resistance, and he curled them to find her G-spot. She felt weak in the knees. She couldn’t help but move in response to the thrust of his hand, even though she knew she couldn’t come while standing up. She’d tried in the shower enough times, usually imagining Blake doing all sorts of things to her.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She obeyed. For a while there was only the ache in her nipples, his fingers in her pussy, the sound of his breath, and the soft music in the background. Everything else ceased to exist as he drove her desire higher and higher, bringing her ever so close to satisfaction but denying her release.
I don’t need to come. I can do that for myself later. The important thing is that I serve.
And then, without warning, he released one of the clamps.
She moaned as blood rushed back into the nipple, suddenly reawakening the nerves that had gone numb. Then she screamed as he pulled off the other clamp. “God that stings,” she said, before covering her mouth with her hand.
Then he pressed his thumb on her clit, and she came like a rocket. He grabbed her waist. Otherwise, she would have sunk to the ground. Instead she stood there, panting, her pleasure rippling through her body. This isn’t possible. It’s not happening.
He held her until the last wave passed, and she could start to catch her breath. Then he said, softly. “Open your eyes.”
She opened them.
“Tell me when you are ready to serve again.”
She wanted him to hold her, to cradle her on the couch, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit that. Instead she said, “I am always ready, Sir.”
He smiled and shook his head at the same time. For a moment she thought he was going to correct her and tell her she wasn’t ready yet. But instead he stepped aside. “Bend over the chair and make yourself available. I will use you when I am ready.”
She felt dizzy, wondering how he would choose to use her. Pussy or ass? He was welcome to either. She leaned over the chair as directed, and pulled her skirt up so that it bunched at her waist. Spreading her legs, she waited.
Did I come because of the pain? Or because I had a mental block, and that distracted me? Or because it was Blake Andrews, and he’s what I need?
If it’s that last one, I’m in trouble.
She had time to ponder. She heard him in the kitchen. He returned with a drink of water, which he placed against her lips. She sipped, but she didn’t want much.
“Good girl,” he said, and walked away again.
Those simple words left her glowing, even as the seconds spread to minutes. She didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he was working on the Longdale accounts, and that was more important than she was. Maybe he was just enjoying making her wait or testing her. She was resolved to pass any test he gave her. That had been true since the day she’d become his secretary.
She heard his footsteps behind her, and her pussy juiced in response. I am way too easy for him. But at the same time she knew he would be gratified to find her wet. The ease of her arousal gave him power. He was a Dom, so he would like power. So I want to give it to him, even if it costs me. Simple.
She felt a finger against her anus. It was gloved and covered with lube. He moved it in small circles, tickling the sensitive nerve endings there. Her sphincter clenched in resistance, then relaxed to allow his gentle intrusion.
“This has you at the perfect height,” he told her.
“I’m glad, Sir.” A part of her wished her pussy was at the perfect height, instead. But her ass would be tighter around his cock, so why wouldn’t he prefer that? It wasn’t as if she wanted him to make love to her. She’d had “love” and it turned out to be false. Better to be used.
She was using her hands to balance on the chair, but she could manage with just one. She reached back and pulled on her ass cheek, spreading herself for him, and telling him without words that she welcomed what he was doing.
“That’s a good girl.” He added more lube, then slid a second finger in, stretching her and making her insides slick. Her pussy ached, maybe more than if he actually touched her there. She knew that this evening would fuel a dozen sessions with her vibe. However many it took to get her to the next time he could do this to her, if there was a next time. Focus on the now.
And right now he was positioning his cock at her entrance. He pushed forward, lodging himself inside, and then stilled. She breathed, willing herself to relax and let him in. He nudged forward a little more, stretching her further, and then a little more after that.
“Stop!” she said. She hated saying it, but she needed a moment to become accustomed to him, or it was going to hurt, and hurting during anal wasn’t a good thing. She worried for a moment that he would protest, or tell her she wasn’t in control, but he froze and stroked her back.
“Good girl for telling me,” he said. “Just tell me when you’re ready. I know you can take me.”
“I should have said, Sir. I should have asked.” She was amazed he wasn’t mad at her.
“If you had done all that, it would have taken more time. Relax. It’s good.” For a long moment they stayed like that, while she took a few breaths and relaxed.
She planted both hands on the chair and pushed back. Slowly he moved forward, inch by inch. She’d never felt any man so deeply, and there was still more of him to go. He placed the palm of his hand on her mound and pressed, filling her further. Then his fingertip brushed against her clit, the touch she’d been yearning for.
This isn’t going to be all about his pleasure after all. She felt guilty for her sense of elation. I really am happy to serve. But if I can serve and have pleasure too…
She felt his pelvis against her ass. He was all the way in. There, for a moment, he rested. He rubbed her clit, his touch so light as to be almost teasing, yet incredibly intense. And when he moved, even slightly, it felt as if there was a connection between his cock and his finger that led straight through her core.
“You’re going to come for me, C.”
She shook her head. “I never come from anal sex, Sir. It’s for your pleasure.”
“This is going to be different.”
How could he be so sure?
He rubbed her clit in little circles as he moved slowly inside her. She’d expected him to start thrusting hard. Surely that would be what would feel best to him? And she wanted it too, wanted the feeling of being possessed and used and violated. Instead, he was building her pleasure and it was curling tightly inside her. He added another finger so he could rub both sides of her clit at the same time. It swelled under his touch.
“You’re so wet, C.”
“Is that good, Sir?”
“It’s wonderful.” He dipped his fingers inside her pussy, briefly, and then brought the wetness to her clit, making his motions smoother. “I think you’re dripping on my chair.”
She blushed. She didn’t doubt it, but it was embarrassing. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“It cleans up well.” He pressed more firmly. She clenched her teeth in an effort to hold back her orgasm.
He pulled back and then thrust forward. He didn’t change the pressure on her clit, just kept it moving in the same way as he picked up the pace with his cock. She grabbed the back of the chair tightly, trying to keep from collapsing on it. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he steadied her, and started fucking her ass in earnest.
If he had increased the motion of his fingers on her clit, or better yet curled his fingers inside to hit her G-spot, she would have understood not being able to control herself anymore. But suddenly she couldn’t resist. She came hard, her body shaking under his control.
“That’s it, Carrie, come for me, my little darling. Flood my hand with your juices.”
It took her a moment to register the name. He knows. He knows. And he was fucking her anyway, and she was coming. All was right with the world. She pushed back, wanting him to join her.
He cried out as he came, shuddering against her.
She collapsed into the chair, and he followed, staying inside and pressing her against the leather. She didn’t want to move, even though her face felt a little squished against the back of the chair.
But after a few moments where they both caught her breath, he withdrew from her. “You are very pleasing, C,” he said. Then he walked away, possibly to discard the used condom. Her ass felt empty. Her pussy felt empty. She missed his touch.
But he knows. It’s okay. At least I hope it’s okay. Why did he call me C again?
He returned after a minute and lifted her off the chair. As if she were featherlight, he carried her to the couch and sat with him in her lap.
“You called me Carrie,” she said to him at last.
His eyes widened. “I did?”
Her heart sank. She thought he did. Was that just wishful thinking? But no. I heard it. “You did, Sir.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m very, very sorry.” He looked mortified.
She didn’t understand why. Why was that so bad? “Why?”
“It’s someone else I know. I shouldn’t have done that.” He stroked her cheek, right under the mask. “I do like you for you. What little I know of you. But you remind me of someone.”
Private Secretary Page 5
