by Camryn Eyde
Taming the boss
A Short Story
by Camryn Eyde
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2014 by Camryn Eyde
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover design & book design by Camryn Eyde
For Vicki
Chapter One
“Come here.”
I glared at the woman. I didn’t move. Who did she think she was? The boss of me? My master? I fingered the thin chain around my neck. “I’m not your pet.”
She cocked her head and smirked as she noticed the movement of my fingers. It was a gift from her. A gift worth more than my monthly pay check. A gift that felt like a collar. It was a symbol of my submissiveness to this woman, but none-the-less, the fine jewelry adorned my neck.
She walked over and hooked it with her long, manicured finger. “I said, come here, pet,” she whispered. She tugged on the chain, careful not to exceed its delicate strength, and led me across the room until she was standing in front of her office chair with the back of her legs touching the leathered surface. “On your knees.”
I remained standing. Testing her and trialing a backbone.
She tugged the chain towards the floor and I let myself fall. My polyester-covered knees hitting the plush carpet of her office. I’d been here before. On my knees ready to service this woman according to what she dictated on the day. As I knelt by the ostentatious marble desk, the memories of interludes past flooded my mind, and my underwear. Unable to linger for long in my reminiscing, I held back the smile threatening to cover my face and looked up as the next order was issued.
“Take off my skirt.”
My mouth watered as I reached up for the hook and zipper combining to keep her tailored pin-stripe business skirt aloft. With the fastenings unhinged and unzipped, the soft material slipped over her silk underskirt with a whispered hush to pool at her ankles. She lifted one foot then the other before retrieving the garment from me and folding it neatly. Repeating the process to disrobe her of the silk underskirt, she smirked down at me and said, “My panties.”
I hooked my fingers in the elastic waist band and leaned forward on an inhale. I could smell her muskiness, and pulling the slip of lace down her toned thighs, I could see a glistening pool on the fabric that she had already exuded. My sex clenched and twisted in response.
What this woman does to me.
I carefully led the panties over her three-inch pumps which I prayed she’d leave on. The stilettoes would hurt as they dug into tender flesh, but the sexual emphasis they added to our experiences was worth every bruise and scrape.
Placing a towel on her office chair, ever prepared, she sat down like a queen and scowled at me. Opening her legs, she said, “Well?”
I withheld a smirk. Bossy bitch.
My hands still on her ankles after removing her lace undergarment, I let my fingers skim lightly up the backs of her calves before tickling behind her knees. She sighed and squirmed a little. I knew she was sensitive there. Too much pressure forced her to kick in discomfort. Just enough made her lick her lips and shift her bottom forward. Shifting for me, I smiled as her eyelids dropped shut while my hands continued their path up her legs. Pushing them along her thighs, my hands sinking into the toned flesh, I let my thumbs skim close to her sex before caressing the crease of her hips. Gripping them, I yanked her forward in an action that I knew would earn me a displeased glare.
Her eyes snapped open and I smiled at the dirty look sent my way.
“Careful,” she said, her usual bite softened by my touch.
I acquiesced with a nod and dragged my hands back down her thighs before pushing her knees apart abruptly. Before she had a chance to scold me again, I dove in and inhaled her. My nose brushed the manicured hair curling above gleaming folds of silky skin. I exhaled with raw desire, and she moaned deep in her throat at the sensation.
Using my fingers to touch the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and the creases beside her swollen sex, I gently blew across the hot flesh and was pleased to see goose bumps appear. Willing to play a little longer, I continued to wash warm air over her skin until I heard a growl and my face was propelled against the slickness that I’d created.
I chuckled.
She gave my hair a sharp yank.
Still chuckling, I slipped my tongue from between my lips and dragged them up the full length of her. Her fingers clenched against my scalp almost tugging my hair out by the roots. I ignored the pain for the burst of flavor on my taste buds. She was always tangy when first aroused, but I knew from experience that her flavor increased in sweetness the more her nectar dripped away from her.
Flattening my tongue, I ran it over the clit standing proud and engorged. She was desperate for this. So wet, and so hard already. My, my, dear boss. Have you been thinking of me all day?
I continued to run my tongue over the throbbing nub of nerves as I congratulated myself on my choice of clothing. She always liked my clothing tight. Barely satisfying the office-appropriate dress code, the suit I was wearing hugged my hips and backside to the point it almost tore away the seams. Coupled with a button-up shirt and tight vest that made my C-cup pop, I had deliberately bent over all day offering her prime views of all the real estate I owned.
She had been snippety to all who entered her domain today. Right from that very first greeting that morning when I leaned across her desk to hand her coffee. Her eyes had dilated as she looked up to see the valley between my breasts. She had hooked her finger in the necklace then and yanked me forward, but the outer office phone rang before she was able to do anything further. I had smirked at her knowing exactly what it was I had done. I had driven her crazy before she had drunk her first coffee.
Now she was getting payback.
Forgetting what led me to my knees to service my boss’s desires, I concentrated on the flushed skin below my tongue and moaned. The vibrations on my tongue must have transferred directly to her clit as she arched, gasped, then let out a guttural groan. I loved when she made those noises, and a flood of appreciation hit my panties.
Showing my pleasure, I flicked the tip of my tongue around the edge of those velvet curtains drenched with desire. I circled like a tornado, gradually increasing pace and depth and soon, my tongue was coated in her wetness and surrounded by tight, hot muscle.
Pulling my probing appendage back, I received a hiss of displeasure. I couldn’t help but smirk. An action that must have branded itself on her skin as I soon felt her fingers clench once again at the roots of my hair and press me tight against her.
“So impatient,” I mumbled, enjoying the groan that created.
“Less talking, more screwing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied before diving back in. My tongue thrust hard inside her, curling as I brought it back out, and slamming back in. She arched and hissed, and spreading her legs to offer me ease of access. I took it and pressed so hard against her that I nearly cut off the flow of oxygen to my lungs. I didn’t mind. Every inhale gave me that musky headiness of her slick fluids, and every deep, probing thrust coaxed those sweeter juices from her depths.
My pumping rhythm finally turned her into that gorgeous, sexy putty I was familiar with. Usually so uptight, so stressed, and so controlled, when she let go, it was a s
ight to behold. She softened her edges and let me peer into the wonderland that was her happiness. If only for a brief moment.
Her eyes were heavily-lidded as I peered up and the softness I saw took my breath away. Her eyes were dark like obsidian and staring into my own with a plea she would never voice. Take me. I’m yours. Please, I need you.
I loosed my grasp on one of her thighs and unwrapped my arm from the limb. Reaching up, I fingered the buttons of her blouse, tugging at the bead of plastic to pull it free.
“Off,” I said before plunging my tongue back into her increasing heat. Thankfully, she understood and soon I had a view of the muscled plains of her stomach. The valley between lace-covered breasts was temptation itself, and my free hand rubbed up the length of her, my nails dragging down her neck, between those hardened peaks, and down those defined ripples of muscle that flinched under my touch. She was a goddess and I’d spend my life on my knees worshipping her if she’d let me.
“More,” she whispered as she swallowed. I watched her throat flex and wished my lips could be up there touching the sweat-beaded skin.
I pulled my tongue from within her and considered my options. Soft, slender neck or heavenly nectar. I smiled, knowing which I preferred. Fingering her entrance, I slid two fingers into her and devoured her clit with a fierce suck. This was where I wanted to be.
She cried out and bucked against me.
“Peta,” she said on a rough exhale.
Hearing my name on her lips was like having her mouth on my most secret places. It aroused me, it flooded me, and it made me need her like sweet life-giving breath. I rewarded her with another finger, and with three now pulsating into her saturated folds, she met each thrust with her hips, and complimented each movement with a moan.
She is amazing.
Freeing my other hand from its grip on her thigh, I unsnapped my own trousers as fast as possible. Shoving the zipper down, I wasted no time on rubbing my own pulsating clit. Jesus! My hips jerked, and I nearly came. Moaning, she once again pulled me tighter against her at the feeling it sent through her skin.
Slowing my fingers in my panties, I let them rub lazy circles on my needy nub as I sucked hers vigorously, pumping faster and faster into her.
Her moans increased in pitch and soon nonsense words of encouragement spilled from her lips.
I was thankful it was after-hours, and that the cleaners had specific instructions to avoid her offices until first thing in the morning. The floor was ours and she could make as much noise as she wanted. Such were the perks of being the boss of everything.
“Peta. Peta. Peta …” she said, her crescendo building, her legs stiffening and her walls beginning to thrum around my fingers.
“Come for me, baby. Come. Come now,” I said against her clit, sucking it hard into my mouth and flicking at it with the tip of my tongue. My fingers pressed up against that bundle of nerves of her upper wall and she complied with my demands. She bucked wildly as her precipice beckoned, and the fingers in my panties made a desperate pace to keep up.
The moment she cried out as her body stilled and juices poured from within her, my own orgasm sent my body out of control. Barely having the wherewithal to move my mouth to the come pumping from her, I greedily lapped at that sweet nectar I had worked hard to produce. It was like a top shelf liquor. It took time to brew, and if taken too early, it was rougher on the tongue. Now, like this, it was like warm, smooth honey.
Pulling my hand from my panties, she let me stay there, gently licking her clean. I avoided her over sensitized skin and treated the remainder of her folds to a massage with my tongue. Her fingers, no longer clenching at my hair, stroked the blonde strands with long, lazy movements. It sent shivers down my spine with an intimacy she was probably unaware she was allowing.
She filled her lungs and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Recognizing the sound, I knew I’d done well. I’d spent her.
Her hand left my hair and she shifted in her seat. Sitting upright again, she looked down at me, her eyes still soft and vulnerable in her post-coital bliss. That was until she eyed my exposed underwear. An eyebrow arched and she looked at me, all softness gone from her stare.
Oh, crap.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”
Domination. Control. Her desire to dictate terms. I had violated each mandate.
I stared back, waiting for my punishment, and admittedly, the thought of it excited me. We’d been here before, and her need to control every aspect of her life and interactions often resulted in mind-blowing orgasms on my behalf.
“Out.”
I blinked. Did she really just say that? Surely, she didn’t mean—
“Get off the floor, and get out of my office.”
“What?” I said, still on my haunches.
“I was unaware I’d hired a deaf assistant. I said, get out of my office.” She emphasized the words with what I assumed was sign language.
Seriously? She can sign as well as speak three languages? God, she’s amazing. I wonder if—
“Miss Scott, I suggest you move, or you will find yourself unemployed come morning.”
I hurried to my feet. “Liz?”
“That’s Miss Morris to you.”
I took a step away from her. “Ah…okay. Miss Morris.” The woman, bristling like an angered lion, was practically naked as she stared up at me from the office chair, but damn she was imposing. My eyes drifted to her exposed torso and down the length of her body. The towel she was sitting on, I noticed, was drenched with her come. My tongue flicked out and wet my lips, tasting the residue there.
“Leave.”
“I’m sorry I—”
“Now!” Her voice boomed through the quiet office and made me flinch.
I fastened my pants and strode away with a scowl on my face. What the hell was her deal? Did I not just make her explode with climax? Did I not just make her come completely undone? And what thanks do I get for that? Attitude and ten-foot high walls complete with razor wire.
What a bitch.
Wrenching the door open, I looked back at her, nearly melting under her fiery gaze. “You know what, screw you! I’ve had enough of this,” I said, my voice wavering before I slammed the heavy teak door.
Chapter Two
Two weeks passed and the relationship I had with my boss could best be described as an icy storm. A proud woman, Elizabeth Morris, CEO of a self-built fortune-500 company was cold, ruthless and unforgiving. I expected to be fired the instant she saw me the morning after I stormed out on her. She didn’t, but damn if I wasn’t walking on egg shells around her.
Fluctuating between livid, guilty and indifferent, I got on with my job and performed it with the efficiency and skill I was hired for. Of course, I thought, looking through the opaque glass of her office walls and seeing the blurred shape of her movements, my position description had changed six months ago. Though my role had expanded that fateful night, I doubted my talents would ever be written in the job description for future applicants. The mere thought of someone else touching her, or being allowed to glimpse the person beneath the armor made my fists clench and my teeth grind. She was mine.
It had been a trying day when my role as her assistant changed. The tax lawyers had been flapping about in a tizzy over an audit that had come back with red flags all over it. Money, a lot of money, had vanished from existence and it all pointed back to the CEO’s office. Liz was outraged and ripped through the departmental structure like a force five tornado. She took no prisoners in her search to flush out the rat. Unfortunately, her gung-ho approach wielded no results and she was still standing alone in the IRS spotlight.
I had worked late that night, and by her side, we trawled through employee records and financial transactions until I was certain I could list them all in my sleep. It was bone-wearying and near-catatonic work. Dismissing the financial unit assisting us a little after eight, I was left alone with an emotionally and physically exhausted woman.
Elizabeth Morris was, without doubt, a sexy woman. Even in her frazzled and dead-on-her-feet look. Her sense of power and confidence added a significant amount to her persona, but beyond that, the silky brown hair styled to her shoulders in flawless waves, the precise makeup accentuating her cheekbones, her full lips, those chocolate eyes, and that womanly figure, made her center-stage in many of my fantasies.
She was exquisite.
And she also caught me staring.
Ruffled hair from nervous sweeps through her locks, creased clothing from hours of hunching over records, and a face nearly bare of makeup had entranced me. I’d never seen her look so small and vulnerable and because of that, I couldn’t help but gawk at her like a love-stuck fool.
She didn’t appreciate my staring, and I was quickly reprimanded.
“You look tired,” I said, ignoring her snarky retort about paying attention to the spreadsheet in front of me.
“And this surprises you how, Miss Scott? My business is being snatched from my grasp thanks to these outrageous claims. A business I grew from nothing. I’m not resting until the sneaky little cockroach responsible is fumigated from my corporation.” She finished her little snippety remark with a shake of her head, and turned back to the documents before her. A moment later, she reached up and rubbed at her neck with a wince on her face.
Standing from my chair directly across from her on the large oval conference table, I rounded the opaque glass and stood behind her. I took a steadying breath before lowering my hands to her shoulders.
She nearly leaped from her chair and into my arms.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping.” I pressed my fingers into the knots beside her neck and she groaned. I smiled as she stiffened in embarrassment from making that noise.
“Miss Scott—”
“Shh…” I kneaded her tense muscles for several long minutes and slowly worked my fingers towards the nape of her neck. Once there, she had relaxed to the point that her head fell forward allowing me further access. I swallowed nervously as I touched her skin directly for the first time. It was so warm, so soft, and so damn sexy. Her next moan of encouragement shot like a cannonball to my apex. God damn. I let a breathy moan exit my lips.
