Craving My Boss

by Tasha Fawkes

  “Come over here.”

  I turn around and barely refrain from gasping when I see him standing there, next to the upright posts, stripped out of his previous clothes and now wearing what looks like a pair of jogging pants, although quite loose and flowy.

  “I said now!”

  I startle and tug my glance from his pants up to his face. He isn’t smiling. So much for starting out on the right foot.

  “Come over here,” he says, pointing to the floor between the two posts. Resisting the urge to cover my breasts, I walk toward the posts. What does he think of me, walking toward him, buck-ass naked? Are my breasts large enough? My areolas too dark? Did I shaved my pussy hair acceptably? I never go totally bare down there. After all, I don’t want to look like a five-year-old. Stewart wanted me to shave completely, but I felt it was kind of pervy of him to even ask me to do that. I believe I’m groomed neatly enough, shaved short and narrow, but that’s as far as I go.

  I notice him staring down at the apex of my thighs. He didn’t say anything the first time we had sex in a hotel room. If he asked… no, told me to…shave, would I?

  He says nothing as he turns me toward the mirror and then takes one of my hands. He reaches for a leather cuff with sheepskin padding affixed to a foot-long and medium-sized chain. Though I can’t imagine what he intends, I watch silently as he buckles the cuff to my wrist and then hooks the chain with a heavy karabiner to an eye-bolt screwed into one of the posts just over head height. He repeats the process with my left hand, and then each of my ankles.

  He steps toward a light switch on the wall by the stairs and turns off the lights to the room. Only one light stays on; a recessed, flush-to-ceiling dim light that shines down on the two upright posts and my naked, splayed body, as if I’m standing center stage. I am.

  To say that I feel vulnerable is an understatement. He strolls around me, staring at every part of my exposed body. I try to watch him, but the moment I turn my head, he swats my ass and orders me to look at the mirror and not move. I obey. He stops behind me, able to look over the top of my head, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

  I barely squelch a yelp of surprise when his fingers grab my ass cheeks and squeeze. Hard, but not hard enough to bring tears. Immediately, all my muscles clench. I have to force myself to relax. Heart pounding, I feel his fingers sliding between my legs, exploring my slit. This time I gasp and shift slightly.

  With one hand between my legs, the other grabs a handful of my hair and pulls until my chin lifts toward the ceiling. His voice is thick, and the whisper of his voice wafts against my ear.

  “Don’t move or you will be punished.”

  I think the anticipation of what he is going to do, where his hand will roam, is the foundation of an increasing sense of anxiety. Not scared anxiety, but uncertain anxiety. In the next few moments, my uncertainty fades as he stands behind me, his chest pressed against my back. I feel his large, hard erection against my ass crack. He shoves his hips forward, and I brace my feet and resist, trying not to move, as he instructed.

  I kept staring at the mirror, not daring to look around though every cell in my body wanted to turn, wanted to wrap my arms around him. That isn’t what this is. For a brief second, I feel a surge of disappointment. Will I never be able to hold him? Caress his fine, hard body? Never—

  He releases my hair. Both of his hands sweep around my waist and cup my breasts, his thumbs swirling around my nipples. I bite back a moan as an almost electrical stimulus jolts my body, starting behind my breasts and shooting all the way down to my groin. My pleasure disappears when both thumbs and index fingers squeeze my nipples. So sensitive, never experiencing anything like that, I utter another gasp as unexpected and unwanted tears fill my eyes. The startling jolt of pain fades as he immediately swirls the pads of his thumb over my nipples, replacing the pain with soothing pleasure. And then he does it again. Pain, not unbearable, followed by pleasure. After the first time, I’m not so surprised. I realize that while the tweaking and twisting hurts, the expectation of pleasure soon to follow has me actually looking forward to it.

  He pauses a moment, and I feel him moving behind me. What is he doing? I feel slick wetness between my legs and my pussy clenches with anticipation. His chest presses against my back again, the heat of his body close to mine. His engorged cock nestles against my ass. No fabric separating us now. He’s warm, huge, and solid.

  His cock thrusts between my legs. I stare at it in the mirror as it peaks between my legs. He squeezes my ass once again and then his hands grope my breasts. Pinch, tweak, pull, against my nipples and then his thumbs swirl around them. He begins to move his hips, his cock appearing and disappearing at the apex of my thighs, sliding against my slit, making me wet, hot, and ready. My hands clench, my jaw tight as I struggle not to make a sound, not to move an inch.

  Goose bumps rise on my flesh when his tongue licks at the back of my neck, sending shivers of delight racing down my spine. I absorb every sensation. Not even the hard smacks against my ass can take away the hot pleasure of his tongue trailing down my spine. His body shifts, his cock disappears, but with his left hand still squeezing and plucking at my nipple, his other hand alternately slaps and squeezes my ass cheek. Every once in a while, he moves that hand and strokes it between my legs, eliciting another surge of hot liquid. My pussy contracts. I can’t halt the moan that erupts from my chest.

  He grabs at my hair and pulls my head back, hard, my jaw once again facing the ceiling. Tears glisten in my eyes. The brief surge of pain disappears when his teeth nibble on my ear, following the next instant by his hot breath against that very same ear.

  “If you move again or make a sound, I’ll gag you and punish you.”

  Shame on me, but I want to know what that’s like. I speak without permission. “Daniel, please—”

  “You are to call me Master!”

  I can’t help but stare at my wide-eyed reflection in the mirror—my eyes shining, my mouth open with desire, my body splayed. I want to see what he’s doing but it’s dark beyond that tiny circle of light. He walks away from me and surprisingly, I feel bereft. My body grows chilled. His warmth and attention drawn away from me, I can only stare into the mirror, trying to discern his shadow in the darkness of the room behind me.

  I can’t see him. What is he doing? Did he leave? Am I to be punished with his absence? He told me that it was against his rules to leave a sub bound, but where did he go? My pleasure subsides as my worry intensifies. “Daniel? I mean, Master? Where are—”

  I hear the crack of sound before I feel it. The sting of leather on the flesh of my ass. I can’t deny it. It hurt! But before the sting of the slap dissipates, I feel his cock in between my thighs again, pumping faster.

  “Watch.”

  His tone is on the back of my neck again, one hand grabbing a fistful of my hair, forcing my eyes back to the mirror. I watch as his cock slides back and forth between my thighs. When is—

  He bends me forward, pressing down on my neck, my arms stretched to their limits. I bite back a gasp as the sudden, rough move startles me. Immediately after, I feel his cock probing my wet slit. My pussy responds.

  “Beg for it!”

  His voice is the same. This is Daniel, my boss, but hearing him talk like this, in that deeper voice, that rough, guttural voice with an edge to it, I know this is a part of him that he keeps well hidden from ordinary people. I’m excited and a bit awed at the same time.

  “Beg for it! Beg for my cock to dive in!”

  “Please, Master,” I respond dutifully, meaning it. “Dive in!”

  Once again his cock disappears, as do both his hands from my body. His lips find my shoulder, that spot between the base of my neck and the top of my shoulder, and he nibbles. He uses his teeth, scraping them along my flesh. I know he’ll be careful not to leave marks, at least not obvious ones. More goose bumps. I pant with anticipation. I hear him tear something open and recognize the sound. A condom. Thank goodness one of us is
thinking. I didn’t even give it a thought. Not just about protecting myself from an unwanted pregnancy, but an STD. Maybe that’s something we should’ve talked about before, but—

  Both his hands grab my shoulders press me down and forward. Once again, my shoulders ache at the stretching. My head immediately drops downward, but he grabs my hair again, forcing my head up.

  “Watch!”

  I do, embarrassed and fascinated at the same time. I’ve never watched myself having sex before. I’ve never watched— His head probes between my legs for several moments, and then pauses.

  “Beg for it!”

  His voice is gravelly, strained, as if he’s holding himself back. “Take me, Master!” I gasp. “Please!”

  He obliges. With one, single, hard thrust, he enters me. Fills me completely, almost painfully. It feels like I’m not big enough for him, that I can’t hold him, but once he’s inside, he pauses, giving me time to adjust. Not nearly long enough. I want to relish this moment, but he’s the one in control.

  His hips begin to thrust. His dick slides nearly all the way out and then surges upward again. Hard. Forceful. I wince, but try not to make a sound. I hear the slick, wet sounds of him entering and withdrawing. Hear the sound of his balls slapping against my ass and upper thighs. I want to touch him, to grab that huge cock, but I’m bound and unable to move. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to—I have to distract myself or I’ll finish before he does. I force my eyes to watch his face. So fierce now, so handsome. Both of his hands grip my shoulders, hard, both of us staring into the mirror, watching as he pumps into me. My knees want to sag, but his grip tightens. I keep my eyes riveted to his face, see his jaw clench, then his chin lifts slightly as he rocks his hips, slows down his pace only slightly, and then, in three more pumps, he climaxes.

  I’m not sure if I can let go now, if I can—

  His cock still captures inside me, he moves his hands off my shoulders, wraps them around my waist and once again cups my breasts. This time his fingers massage, twirl, and gently pluck and twist. One hand continues to tweak my breasts while his other roams straight down my belly until he cups my mound. I watch him fingering my nub and that’s all it takes. Punishment and pleasure. Pleasure and punishment—two more strokes and I feel waves washing over me. Blinding, breathtaking, white flashes of waves. Waves of pleasure wash through me, around me, and have my head swimming.

  I’ve never, ever experienced anything like this. I want more. So much more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daniel

  In the past few hours, I introduced Ashley to several of the gadgets in my playroom, and after using the devices on her, explained several naïve mistakes she made in her manuscript regarding a number of scenes in her book. I have to admit that I’m impressed. She’s an eager and willing student. I can’t even begin to count how many women I have fucked over the years, but there’s something different about Ashley. It isn’t just the fact that I, an expert, am introducing her to this new world.

  It’s that we seem to connect on a level I didn’t expect. Her body seemed to sense what I needed before I did. She enticed me in ways others haven’t, and she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She’s a natural. Her passion is unmistakable. No, her breasts aren’t extraordinarily large; rather they are a large B cup, maybe venturing into C territory. But more than a handful is a waste anyway, right?

  I don’t think my reaction to our playtime had anything to do with the fact that I had never done this with her, either. I never tutored anyone before. I had many encounters with women I had never met before, nor after. But there is something about Ashley that just seems so fresh, so… I can’t even name it.

  She dresses slowly. I watch. Now the shyness has returned. Not overt, but I sense it. Perhaps even a touch embarrassed, but she’s game. I like that about her. That mixture of naivete with such a zest for adventure. Coy shyness that’s natural, not faked. Her pleasure wasn’t faked either. I know that she gained pleasure from our exercises. I also gained pleasure. It was a win-win.

  I went so far as to contemplate inviting her to the bondage club. I’ve never even considered bringing someone to the club. I never really felt like I needed to. I get everything I want there and then some. Plenty of women and couples looking for partners. For different kinds of sex. No questions. No demands, no strings.

  This thing with Ashley, this feeling she gives me… I feel relaxed. It’s more than just getting my rocks off. I actually enjoy spending time with her. Today wasn’t so much about release as it was in exploration, seeing this world through fresh eyes. Usually after a scene, I’m ready to go. I hate lingering. I despise women who want to linger with me afterward. Crystal learned early on that our interactions were about one thing and one thing only. Fast, hard, hot sex. She wanted to be dominated and I wanted to dominate. With Ashley, it’s a bit different. Yes, I’m still her Dom and she my sub, but there’s a sweetness about her, something that I can’t quite wrap my mind around.

  I realize I’m lingering. Taking pleasure in just watching her get dressed. I watch every move, every tilt of her head, the way her hair drapes over her face as she bends slightly to don her pants. I watch her fingers as they slip on her tennis shoes. I smile. This is a new feeling, and I like it. I don’t want it to be over.

  Thoughts of work, of my mother, of Karen, of the demands everyone place on me are gone. I’m just living in the moment and enjoying every second of it. Ashley stands and turns to me. She isn’t sure if she can approach or whether she should stay until I tell her she can move.

  “I’m just Daniel now, Ashley,” I say. “Come over here.”

  She does, smiling hesitantly, glancing at me and then quickly glancing away. Her cheeks are still flushed, her eyes glistening. “So, what do you think?”

  She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, slightly shaking her head before trying again.

  “I— I was surprised by a few things, and I was more than startled a couple of times, but I liked it.”

  She’s honest too. This world is still new to her. No amount of research can compare to the real thing. “You think you learned a few things along the way?”

  “Yes, I did. And you’re right. If I’m going to write about it, I have to know what it all feels like. The thoughts that goes through your mind when…” she pauses. “I’m blabbering,” she admits, offering a slight shrug.

  I know her well enough now to know that the slight shrug is a sign of awkward embarrassment. “No, you’re not blabbering. I want you to benefit from these… lessons,” I say. “It will make your writing better.”

  She dips her eyes and nods, not looking me in the eye. What is that? Disappointment? I’m not going to tell her that this has been one of the most invigorating afternoons I’ve spent in a long time. I’m not going to tell her that I enjoyed myself supremely, that she was a most willing pupil, and a good one at that. I can’t go there. She has to know that this—our sexual encounters—are just that. Sex.

  Is that the only reason I brought her down here to my playroom? It was part of it, yes, but after reading her manuscript, I couldn’t deny my curiosity. Only part of my curiosity was assuaged this afternoon. There is so much more to learn about Ashley— I stop myself right there, straighten, and gesture toward the stairs. “We should go.”

  No. I absolutely cannot get involved emotionally with Ashley. As I watch her walk across the basement floor toward the stairs, I realize with surprise that keeping my distance will be a challenge. Especially after what we just did. She made it possible for me to feel completely relaxed and at peace. I can’t remember the last time that I felt this way.

  While it would be interesting to take her to the club, I also decide that she isn’t even close to being ready for such an adventure. One step at a time. We walk upstairs and at the landing I gesture down the short hallway toward the kitchen. “There’s a bathroom just off the kitchen if you need to… use it or clean up or anything.”

  She smiles and nods. “Thank you
, I’ll just be a moment.”

  She walks off down the hallway, her tennis shoes barely making any noise on the wood floor. No sharp clack of heels that usually grated on my nerves as I waited for my subs to leave. I follow her several moments later and enter the kitchen area, where I open the refrigerator and pull out two cans of diet soda. I pop one open and chug down half of it before she emerges, her hair slightly damp, her face fresh. Holding my half empty can of soda, I gesture toward the other one.

  “Thirsty?”

  She smiles and reaches for it. “Thanks,” she says, popping the lid.

  If she’s surprised I offered her a soda and not a drink, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She takes several sips and glances around, trying not to be overt about it.

  “Would you like a tour?”

  Her eyes widen but she nods. She takes a sip and then places the can back on the counter.

  “You can bring it with you,” I say. Sipping from my own can, I give her the grand tour. Another first for me. Not one of my subs, not one, have ever been allowed past the kitchen door and into the rest of the house. In fact, the kitchen bathroom is as far as any of my previous “guests” have roamed in this house. I’ve never offered any of them anything, not even a glass of water. The basement playroom is one thing, but the rest of this house is my private domain. One I keep to myself. This place is only for me. Not Karen. Not Crystal. Not anyone. But I find myself wanting to share it with Ashley.

  I shove thoughts of Karen out of my head. Playing the gracious host as I give Ashley a tour, listening to her murmurs of appreciation in regard to the structure, the décor, and the overall ambience. She laughs softly as we return to the kitchen.

  “What?” I ask, honestly wanting to know. Another first.

  “I think I can fit my entire apartment into your living room,” she comments. “You have a lovely home here, Daniel.”

  I can tell she wants to ask. Why I keep the house a secret. She’s a smart girl. I’m sure she can figure that one out on her own.