Flex Time (Office Toy)

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Grab the backs of your calves.”

  Her brow furrowed, but when she looked at Jonathan, she realized he was there to catch her. His beauty caught her off-guard sometimes. Before Jonathan, she’d often found blond men to be less manly, maybe because their facial hair didn’t contrast as much with their skin. Jonathan, with his Nordic allure, had certainly changed that.

  She trusted him. He had never hidden his love for her—not from himself, and not from her. Perhaps he’d never said the words, but it wasn’t necessary. She could tell by the way he acted, by the way he touched her, and how he was always there for her, supporting her and believing that she could endure whatever challenges came her way.

  He nodded slightly, just a small sign of encouragement that made all the difference in the world, and Elle grasped her smooth calves and lowered her head.

  Her reddish-brown hair pooled on Cunningham’s desk, and blood rushed into her head.

  Behind her, Cunningham was slowly unbuckling his belt. Elle groaned, and Cunningham nodded, that familiar sadistic smile on his face, as he doubled the belt over, creating a thick and intimidating instrument of torture.

  He lightly smacked his open palm. “Why did you ignore my email?”

  “I …” He deserved honesty. “I wasn’t in the mood for a formal lunch.”

  Cunningham’s brow furrowed. “Keep your hips tilted, your ass out.”

  Jonathan’s firm hands gripped her upper arms, bracing her.

  Cunningham warmed her up with his open palms, lightly striking each cheek. Elle moaned. She loved when he spanked her. It always made her horny as hell, especially when he was gentle, holding back.

  When he seemed satisfied that her posterior was reddened all over, he applied the belt, laying a brutal little stripe across the tops of her thighs.

  Just hearing the thwack brought tears to Elle’s eyes. She squeezed them shut.

  “No. Continue to watch me, Elle.”

  She reluctantly complied. He was still wearing his jacket and looked perfectly presentable … aside from the belt in his hands. Incongruous to say the least.

  As was the big erection distorting the front of his pants.

  Elle moaned softly. The stinging of her flesh was overshadowed by the heat building between her legs.

  Cunningham settled into a slow rhythm, bringing the belt down on her left cheek, then the right. Knowing when the blows were coming made her anticipate them greedily, and spasms rippled through her, growing in intensity.

  “Express your appreciation,” Jonathan said.

  “Thank you for the discipline,” she gasped.

  The belt cracked, and Elle went up on her toes, squealing. Only Jonathan kept her from falling off the desk.

  “Kneel.”

  Elle didn’t realize she was crying until she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Then she became aware of the tears coursing over her cheeks, that she was on her hands and knees, her forehead resting on the desk. Jonathan stroked her hair.

  She turned her head and saw Cunningham unzipping his pants to expose his large, thick cock. With a smile, he ran his hands over her ass, and Elle shuddered. This was, by far, the worst spanking she’d ever received, and it fucking hurt.

  “You went somewhere else for a minute there.” Cunningham inserted a finger into her cunt. She was so slick that he slid right in.

  She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a little ball, but Jonathan looped one hand in her hair, then he unbuckled his pants and let them fall down around his ankles.

  “Open.”

  She welcomed Jonathan into her mouth, first getting the tip of his cock nice and wet, then gradually taking more and more until she held all of him, her lips tight around the thick base. She wanted to show him how grateful she was. And how sorry.

  Cunningham pressed his hands on her ass, and Elle yelped. Her skin felt like it might be broken—she wasn’t sure.

  “On your stomach.” Cunningham pulled at her knees, straightening her out, and Jonathan adjusted her shoulders so that she could comfortably suck him.

  Her legs were spread wide—Cunningham was being careful not to touch the inflamed skin, it seemed, then his mouth moved over her pussy.

  Elle’s eyes closed, and she enjoyed the feeling of his adept tongue dipping into her, then moving up and swirling around her clit, teasing it, making her tremble all over.

  Having Jonathan thrusting in her mouth at the same time was heaven.

  She moaned, and Jonathan tensed, his cock swelling. He was breathing heavily, and even though his hand on the back of her neck said that he was in charge, she was the one making him so horny, wasn’t she?

  Her own body tightened around Cunningham’s finger, gripping him. She shuddered and choked back a moan. The room was quiet except for the occasional sound of smacking wet flesh.

  Cunningham wrapped his big hands around the backs of her thighs and slowly wandered up, stopping just short of the area he had tortured with his belt. Still, the pressure of his fingers pushing into her flesh stretched the wounded skin, releasing echoes of pain.

  A perfect orgasm was building, and she let herself go—after all, she hadn’t been ordered not to come—and at the height of her transport, Cunningham slapped both hands down hard on her ass cheeks. She wailed from the pain, from the ecstasy, from the exhilarating degradation of it all.

  It was the most amazing orgasm she’d ever had in her life, and after a few months at Cunningham & Associates, that was saying something.

  Her screams hadn’t slowed Jonathan in the least. He frantically fucked her mouth, then abruptly pulled free with a groan. He smacked his swollen cock on her lips, then pressed himself back into her. He held himself deep, gripped the back of her neck and began pulsing his hips in fast, jerky movements.

  Elle felt Cunningham move away, then a moment later she heard shoes hitting the floor, followed by what sounded like his clothing.

  He entered her without fanfare, balls-deep in an instant. He leaned forward and repositioned her arms so that they were bent, the palms flat on the desk and next to her face.

  Then he covered her arms with his, his chest hair rough against her back. He raked his teeth over the soft skin of her shoulder and thrust so hard that if Elle hadn’t been anchored by Jonathan in her mouth and Cunningham’s weight, she would have gone sliding forward.

  Cunningham nibbled at her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

  “Elle,” he whispered, “if you wanted to eat at the deli, you merely had to say so.” He retreated from her cunt. “You don’t deserve my cock.”

  He walked around the desk, and she saw that his fist was squeezed tight around his considerable girth.

  Jonathan wrenched himself away from her mouth, and Cunningham flipped her over.

  “Stick out your tongue.”

  “No. Fuck me. Please, don’t—”

  Cunningham pressed his fingers into her mouth and forced her open. She would have obeyed, of course, but he seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in holding her like that.

  “Play with your nipples.”

  Elle gathered her breasts in her hands and brought them together. She used her thumbs to rub the excited peaks.

  Cunningham growled his release, spurting onto her breasts, then into her mouth, and Jonathan followed suit. Elle couldn’t swallow completely, not with Cunningham holding her mouth open, so she had to stay like that, their semen pooling on the back of her tongue.

  They tasted amazing, salty and sweet and warm.

  Finally Cunningham eased his fingers from her mouth. He pushed her chin up and stroked down her neck. “Swallow.”

  Elle swallowed, looking up submissively at him. She was glad that the relationship had progressed to the point that she was allowed to look at him as if he were the most wonderful man in the world, because at that moment, there was no way she could have kept the adoration out of her eyes.

  The door swung open.

  Nolan stood there holding several white paper bags imprinted w
ith the deli’s logo. Elle relaxed, letting her head rest on the desk.

  “Thanks for waiting for me,” he said. He sounded pissed, and Elle could imagine that his gorgeous blue eyes were getting dark. They always did when he was angry.

  “How were we supposed to know you were back?”

  “Because I texted you twenty minutes ago.”

  He dropped the bags on the desk and began pulling out sandwiches as if Elle weren’t lying there naked and covered in proof of how much he had missed.

  Jonathan pulled up his slacks and dug out his phone. “Ah. So you did.” He dropped the phone back into his pocket, then began buttoning up his shirt.

  Nolan shot him a murderous look.

  “How did it go?” Even naked, Cunningham managed to be commanding. Or maybe he was even more authoritative without clothes making him look civilized. His thighs were pure muscle, and his calves were so thick that Elle was sure she couldn’t encircle one with her hands.

  “He and Bianca made their flight,” Jonathan said. He straightened his tie. “Also, he’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  Nolan shot him another dirty look. “Yes, I did find her. She was amenable to being flown out immediately, so I put her up in the Shangri-La.” He finally looked—really looked—at Elle, and the hard expression in his eyes softened. Was that the hint of a smile at the corners of his full lips?

  To think that she had the power to calm the volatile Nolan. Elle smiled at him. She’d missed him.

  “And just how much is Bianca going to cost us this time?” Jonathan asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Cunningham said. He stretched his arms out to Elle, and when she placed her hands in his, he raised her up to sitting—ignoring her squeals of pain as her poor ass burned anew—then stood her on the floor.

  Even with the crazy heels on, she was still several inches shorter than any of the men.

  Cunningham lightly tapped her sore buttocks, and Elle jumped. Thank goodness he had a steady arm anchored around her, because one of her ankles turned. “You haven’t seen Nolan in several days. Aren’t you going to greet him?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Cunningham stepped back, and Elle took a hesitant step toward Nolan. His gray suit was a slim cut, making it obvious to the world that his tall, lean body and broad shoulders were perfect.

  His black, longish hair was messy in an intentional, carefully styled way. Nolan and Cunningham were cousins, but they weren’t related by blood, which explained why they looked nothing alike. Nolan had an aristocratic air, and while Elle loved him to death, she’d be the first to admit that he was spoiled, often reminding her of a prep school brat.

  Though now that she thought about it, he’d changed since they first met.

  Elle made her way toward him. Walking on the carpet was certainly a lot easier than Cunningham’s slippery desk. Elle suspected that Cunningham had made her stand up there for that very reason. Sadistic man.

  Nolan met her halfway, swept her up in his arms and bent her backwards, down low. His beautiful eyes were just inches away from hers. “I missed you,” he said quietly.

  Elle’s first reaction was to scowl at him, but then she realized that he wasn’t being sarcastic for once. There was need in him. Sexual, yes, but more than that, she saw that he really had missed her, had ached without her.

  He kissed her generously. When he stood her on her feet again, the room spun.

  “Turn around, palms on the desk,” Nolan rasped as he fought with the front of his pants. Elle complied, and Nolan grabbed under her hips and yanked her ass toward him. “You’re going to have bruises tomorrow,” he said, a question in his voice.

  “I deserved the spanking,” Elle said quickly, hoping to convince Cunningham of her contrition.

  She expected Nolan to take her ass. He loved anal, the rougher the better. So she was surprised when he guided himself to the entrance of her pussy. He let his cock nestle there. Her flesh quivered, but she didn’t lean into him. He wouldn’t have liked that.

  Nolan entered her slowly. He was trembling. He leaned over and skimmed his hands over her breasts.

  Then he pinched her nipples hard, and as Elle gasped, he drove into her.

  “Don’t come, Elle.” Cunningham sat in his executive chair. To Elle’s dismay, he had gotten dressed. He took out a notepad. “Jonathan, pass me a sandwich.”

  Elle tried to think about anything but Nolan fucking her. With each thrust, her body clamped around him. She wanted to keep him still, but he had his own objectives.

  He was going to make her orgasm.

  “No, Elle,” Cunningham said without looking at her.

  How did he know?

  A corner of his mouth twitched up as he turned a page in the notebook and began writing.

  Elle groaned, Nolan’s thrusts making the sound come out in little bursts. Cunningham slid one of his large thumbs into her mouth, and Elle sucked him greedily, her eyes fastened on his face.

  Cunningham dropped the pen and took a bite of his sandwich.

  “I’ll see you pervs later,” Jonathan said. He grabbed a bag of food and went out, leaving the door open behind him. Elle tried to straighten.

  “Submit,” Cunningham said, finally looking at her. “You’ll serve us until we’re done. I think it’s in your best interests to make Nolan happy.” He grinned. “But you’d better not come.” He pushed his thumb in deeper. “Suck me, girl.”

  She did, and she arched her back, ignoring the searing pain every time Nolan ground into her raw buttocks. She undulated, working his cock for all she was worth while she sucked Cunningham’s thumb.

  After forever, Nolan came, grabbing her hips and holding her steady until he was finished.

  He eased back, skimming his hands over her chafed butt as he withdrew. Elle yelped.

  “Get dressed,” Cunningham said. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

  Elle gratefully removed the torturous heels. “Can I have some tissues?”

  “No,” Nolan said. “I want you to feel me dripping into your panties throughout the rest of the day. I want your cunt bathed in my come. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

  Of course it wasn’t really a question. She would do it, and he knew that.

  “Tell him you want to be a good girl for him,” Cunningham commanded.

  “I want to be a good girl for you.”

  Cunningham nodded just a little. He massaged his pelvis with one hand, then leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “The sooner you meet Bianca, the sooner we can start tonight’s festivities.”

  Elle didn’t bother asking who Bianca was or why she needed to meet her.

  Anyway, she had a hunch that Bianca was someone who’d previously dated the three men. Cunningham wanted Elle to get a fuller picture of what this sort of relationship entailed.

  To Elle’s relief, Nolan accompanied her to the Shangri-La. They sat in the back of the car together, their knees lightly touching. Elle was too nervous to make small talk, and Nolan was a master of silence, so they sat quietly.

  Like it wasn’t bad enough having to meet the woman who had most likely broken Cunningham’s heart—Elle wasn’t sure about this, but it was the best theory she had for why Cunningham was so closed off—but she was sure that she smelled like sex.

  And her butt hurt enough that she winced whenever she moved. Hard to believe that her punishment hadn’t been nearly as bad as it felt at the time. No broken skin; Cunningham knew what he was doing. Though Nolan was right—bruises were already blooming by the time she’d dressed.

  The driver pulled over in front of the modern hotel. Nolan hopped out, then extended a hand to help her exit the car.

  “She’s waiting for you at the bar,” he said.

  “Can’t you come with me?” Elle didn’t bother disguising her worry.

  Nolan inhaled, and Elle was sure that he was going to say no. Finally he shrugged. “I’ll do the introductions, but it’s best if you talk to her alone.” The adamant look
in his eyes brooked no argument.

  “Thank you.” Elle straightened her shoulders and tried to muster up a degree of confidence that she certainly didn’t feel.

  The hotel’s lounge was empty except for a tall, willowy blonde at the far end of the bar. Even at a distance, Elle could tell that she was beautiful. An empty, lipstick-covered martini glass sat in front of her, and as Elle and Nolan approached, the bartender poured it full.

  The woman picked up the glass and took a deep sip. Her long, slender fingers were covered in gold and diamonds, and the face of her watch sparkled like it was imbedded with a thousand small stars.

  “Bianca,” Nolan said.

  The woman swung around, and Elle’s heart sank. She had beautiful green eyes, chiseled cheekbones and full, pouty lips that were so perfect, they had to be real.

  “Nolan,” she purred as she stood a bit unsteadily. She looked at Elle. “So you’re the new victim.” There was an open curiosity in her gaze, a vulnerability, too. Elle wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t. At least, not yet.

  “I’m Elle.” They shook hands, and Elle couldn’t help but notice how soft Bianca’s skin was. She tried not to think about those smooth fingers stroking her lovers. She resolutely stifled the little voices that chanted that Cunningham must surely want Bianca back.

  “I’ll be in the lobby,” Nolan said. He took Elle’s face into his hands and plunged his blue gaze deep into hers. His thumb caressed her cheek, then he brushed his lips over her mouth. It was too chaste for Elle’s liking; if ever there was a time for a passionate kiss, this was it.

  Bianca watched Nolan walk away, a mixture of regret and relief in her eyes. Then she turned to Elle. “What’s your poison?”

  “Oh. Um … I’ll just have a glass of white wine.”

  “You’re very pretty,” Bianca said before taking another deep sip of her martini. “Of course, I knew you would be.” She nodded, her smile genuine.

  Elle had to admit that Bianca was perfect. She was friendly and seemed to be confident in who she was. And she was gorgeous. If the men weren’t motivated to make things work with Bianca, then what chance did Elle have?

  “Where do you live?” Elle blurted out.