Dirty Promotion

by Sky Corgan

  “Like this.” He guides me, turning me around so that I’m facing away from him. “Put your knees up on the recliner. Lean forward a little.” He places his hand on the small of my back, forcing me into an awkward position. I place my hands on the recliner in front of us to stabilize myself, worried I might fall forward otherwise.

  As if sensing my fear, Xan grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him. My pussy smacks against hard flesh, and when I realize it’s his dick, I feel a current between my legs so strong that it steals my breath. The feeling of his cock pressing against the full length of my slit is so intense that I see stars from the sensations it causes.

  “Fuck,” Xan curses, and before I have time to register what’s happening, I feel a strong pressure against my clit prolonging the wave of pleasure surging through me as he pushes the pad of his index finger into my underwear and massages in circles. “You came just from me repositioning. You are ripe, aren’t you? And your little slit is already soaking wet for me.”

  It’s too crude. He’s beyond crossed the line this time. As soon as the blinders of my orgasm disappear, I try to dismount him. He grips onto me and pulls me back, his arm wrapping across my chest. I bend awkwardly, feeling his hot breath on my ear. “You’re not going anywhere.” His initial words are aggressive, but what follows has a strange softness to it. “Just relax. I’m not going to fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Not yet.”

  Not yet. His words ring with a promise that both terrifies me and makes me want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. My heart is thundering in my chest. I know I need to leave before we get to the yet part, but knowing we’re not there yet makes me want to stay—makes me want to see what he’s going to do—what else he can make my body feel.

  I exhale a long breath to steady myself. When he realizes I’m not going to try to escape anymore, Xan loosens his grip on me.

  “Just watch the video,” he whispers. “Keep watching and try to let yourself go. I know this is out of your comfort zone, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  I’m less worried about him hurting me and more worried about him besmirching my honor. He’s already doing a good job of it—on his way to...

  “Relax.” He rakes his fingers tenderly through my hair. It feels so soothing that I can’t help but acquiesce. These intimate moments with him are wrong but precious to me somehow. I’m not sure how to process them.

  When he stops touching my hair, I try to refocus on the porno. The man has two of his fingers stuffed inside of his wife’s pussy. She’s moaning loudly, and I have a full view of him pounding into her.

  The wetness on his fingers reminds me of my own—the wetness that Xan obviously noticed. I can feel his cock resting against my folds. Thinking that my juices are soaking him is embarrassing. I subtly try to move away, but he just pulls me back. While it alarmed me before, I kind of like it now—that he wants to feel me. It makes me less ashamed of my body’s reaction to him. If he didn’t like it, he would have pushed me away by now.

  The man pulls his fingers out glistening. He reaches for the front of his pants, and seconds later he’s stroking his cock and lining it up with his wife’s helplessly spread pussy. I close my eyes and turn my face away, not wanting to watch any further.

  “Christiana,” Xan’s voice draws my attention. It’s suddenly the only sound in the room.

  “Sir?” I answer reflexively.

  “You’re not watching.”

  I’m surprised he noticed.

  “Would you prefer that I stimulate you instead?” Without waiting for my answer, I feel Xan’s cock slide across my folds. The movement is so subtle, but it still causes a familiar jolt of electricity. Not the current that sent me over the edge before, but one of the tiny sparks that led up to it.

  Anticipating that I’m going to squirm, Xan plants his hands on my hips to keep me in place.

  “No, sir. I’ll watch.” I turn my eyes back to the paused screen. The scene doesn’t continue. Nor does Xan stop moving. His erect cock presses hard against me, rubbing crudely.

  “I can feel your clit pulsing. You know what that is, Christiana?” Every time he says my name, it makes me tingle. When I don’t immediately respond, he continues, “It’s arousal.”

  “It’s not,” I whisper, wishing he wasn’t right.

  His fingers loosen their grip on my hips, his fingertips crawling to the waistband of my underwear. I gasp as he wraps his hands around them and pulls them down over my ass.

  “Mister Sanderlin!” I look back at him pleadingly.

  “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you, Christiana? A good little assistant.” He balls his fist around the crotch of my panties, tugging them down until my pussy is fully exposed. The cool air rushes between us, soothing my heated parts. It’s the first time I’ve realized how cold it is in the room. Maybe that’s why my nipples are pushing against the camisole like they want to break through it.

  Xan grabs his cock and shoves it in the space between my panties and my pussy. Again, I try to move forward, but he wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me back. I sit on his dick, the skin to skin contact driving me insane. He’s not inside me. Not even close. I’m just...resting on top of his shaft.

  Xan’s hand slides up between my breasts, wrapping around my throat. His grip is firm but nonthreatening. He pulls me against him and rhythmically bucks his hips for a moment before pausing. When his other hand touches my folds, I about jump out of my skin. Or I would have if there was anywhere to go. He’s keeping me firmly in place. His fingers slip between my pussy lips, splaying them over his cock. Then he starts rocking again, his hot veiny length moving back and forth, rubbing me in the most sensual of ways.

  “Back,” he orders me, though he does all the repositioning himself, angling my hips so that when he bucks forward the tip of his cock slides over my clit. It’s unbearably teasing. I’m trembling from my sheer fear and want of him.

  “Oh Christiana, your pussy is so soft and wet. You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking not to fill you right now,” Xan groans. The sound of his voice so heavy with lust only heightens my own.

  I close my eyes and just let myself go. Each time he pulls away, I feel my body involuntarily moving back to writhe on top of him. Even though I’m inexperienced, I know that if his glans pets over my clit enough times, that earth shattering current that I experienced before will make a reappearance. I want it. Right now, nothing else matters. Not my religion. Not the fact that my boss is violating me in the best of ways. Just that one overwhelming feeling between my legs. That’s all I care about obtaining.

  “Jesus Christ.” Xan’s body falls away from me, and I follow him.

  His hands are gone. I’m moving of my own free will, using him—using his cock to bring me to that place that I so desperately need to find.

  I can feel the angel and the devil on my shoulder at war. The devil which almost never popped his head up before; he’s there full-fledged, fighting to give me what I want.

  But is this what I really want? To do these sacred sexual acts with my boss? I’m doing them, so it must be.

  Xan’s grip tightens around me, locking me in place. His breathing is unsteady. “Stop. You’re going to make me come if you keep going. And this isn’t about me.”

  I glance back at him just in time to feel his hand around my waist dip down between my legs. He pushes his hips back slightly, withdrawing his cock so that his fingertips can take its place rubbing my clit. He slides his index finger between my folds to gather some wetness, then deftly circles my cleft. The sensation that rolls through me makes my back arch.

  “Should I let you come?” he asks.

  I should say no. I should tell him to stop touching me. But instead, I whisper, “Yes, sir.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I repeat more loudly, cringing from the need in my tone.

  “That’s a good girl, Christiana.” He applies pressure now, and my clit throbs in
climactic defiance.

  Within a few short strokes, my breath is stolen from me as I get what he forced me to want. I roll my hips and moan between clenched teeth, barely able to believe that anything could feel this good. I press against the palm around my neck to rest my head against my arm and pant. As if knowing that I need it, Xan lets me go so I can breathe and come down from the high he just gave me.

  I glance up at the frozen image on the screen of the woman’s pussy spread wide by the man’s cock. Is that what’s next for me? For us? I can’t allow it. I shouldn’t have even done this. Xan forced me to, I tell myself. That’s wrong, though, and I know it. He seduced me. He seduced me, and I didn’t have enough self-control to be able to resist.

  Maybe he really is the devil, because I could have walked away from any other man—ran away—but not from him.

  A mix of satisfaction and disappointment assaults me at the same time. It’s a weird, conflicting combination of emotions. I don’t know how to process it. All I know is that if we take things any further, I’m definitely going to regret it.

  Xan moves behind me, tucking his cock back into his pants before pulling my underwear up over my ass. Did he read my mind? How does he always seem to know exactly when and where to stop?

  He gives my hip a gentle pat, signaling for me to climb off of him. I do, sitting next to him awkwardly.

  All the heat that was in his expression before is gone. Now he just looks distant.

  “You can go to bed now,” he dismisses me coldly.

  “Huh?” I ask because I’m still not sure what’s going on.

  “That will be all for tonight.” He flips off the screen with the remote.

  I stand, getting the feeling that he can’t wait to be rid of me. That hurts somehow. After all the intimate things we did, he just wants me to go away. Did I disappoint him? No doubt, I’ve been nothing but a disappointment to him since I walked into this house. He was probably expecting some promiscuous girl who would be ready to jump on his dick the second he pulled it out. Just like any other girl he could have selected from the office would have been. I’m not that kind of girl, though. And I never will be.

  I sulk as I return to my room, feeling used and all sorts of other unpleasant things. He’s not the only person disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in me, and that hurts far more than displeasing him. I don’t understand how in just one afternoon he was able to make me do so many things that I never would have dreamed of doing with a stranger. Is it because he’s attractive or charming or my boss? Or perhaps a combination of the three? Or maybe—just maybe—he is the devil sent to test me. And I’m failing miserably.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I’VE ALWAYS BEEN A LIGHT sleeper. Most of the time, I wake up before the alarm goes off. I think it’s a habit born from consideration for the people around me. Apartment walls are thin. Ruby doesn’t go into work until later in the day. Dorothy wakes up whenever she feels like it. My mother usually gets up with me to start baking her bread. Well, she did before pneumonia rendered her practically brain dead from oxygen loss.

  I wake up with tears in my eyes. In my dreams, she dies. We waited too long to get her to the hospital, knowing that we wouldn’t be able to afford the bills. That’s almost what happened in reality. Had we waited one more day, she would be gone. As it is, we’re all suffering for dragging our feet. My mother the most.

  I’m not really sure where the blame lies, but it’s just easier to cast it on myself. When she first fell ill, she insisted that it was just a cold and she could get through it without going to the doctor. Then she started skipping out on work, sleeping most of the time. Whenever we woke her, she insisted on no doctor. But then we couldn’t wake her.

  I kneel beside the bed and say my morning prayers, asking God to help get me through this. Surely, he sent me here because of my mother. This is either my punishment or my reward. I can’t really tell which one. On one hand, I’ll be able to send money home and pay off my mother’s bills faster. On the other, I have to submit to Xan’s will, and I know it will only get more carnal and inappropriate. I would be naive to believe he won’t eventually want to have sex with me. Can I really let things go that far?

  I can’t think about that right now, because if I do, then I’ll want to leave. The haze of fantasy that Xan might one day think of me as more than an employee is gone. I see things as they are. I’m his assistant and servant, nothing more.

  I finish my prayers and stand, my nostrils flaring as I inhale the thick scent of...me. I changed into the night clothes I brought from home last night and washed the panties of the lingerie that Xan had given me in the bathroom sink and hung it to dry over the shower rod. I don’t understand why the air in the room is still so heavy with the smell of my arousal from yesterday. It’s quite disturbing—a reminder of what Xan does to me.

  I change back into the lingerie before heading downstairs to make breakfast. To my surprise, Xan is in the kitchen bent over the counter scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper. I hadn’t expected him to be up yet. He’s wearing a pair of blue pajama pants that hang from his hips and draw my eyes to his perfectly toned ass.

  At the sound of my footsteps, he turns, seeming just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. “Good morning, Christiana.”

  My eyes dip to the front of his pajamas where the outline of his cock is clearly visible. There’s little left to the imagination. It’s so well defined that I can see the ridges of his glans.

  I gulp, worried that he might want to make use of his erection. “Good morning, sir.”

  “I was just writing down how I like my coffee in case you wandered in here before coming to my office.” He gestures to the notebook paper. “I suppose it was a smart move, though I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

  “I always get up early, sir.” I avert my eyes, hoping he didn’t catch me looking at his dick.

  “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.” He walks past me, and I feel the heat of his body as we cross paths.

  I take long strides to read what he has written down, turning to catch him before he has a chance to disappear to wherever he’s headed. “No breakfast, sir?”

  He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck lazily. “Breakfast will come later. Coffee will be fine for now.”

  He disappears, and I think of how strange the encounter was. Is this what it would be like to be married to him? Meeting down in the kitchen. Seeing him like this every morning with the haze of sleep in his eyes. Aside from his swollen cock, he seemed non-threatening. Almost like a normal human being. Like we could share the morning as a couple.

  Stop it, Christiana. I shake my head. He’s your boss. You have got to get over these irrational fantasies you’re having about him.

  I sigh as I get to work making his coffee. At least I wasn’t thinking about having sex with him. Of course, the second that relief from the absence of those thoughts comes over me, I start thinking about having sex with him. I picture the porno from last night, except the girl on the coffee table is me, and the husband is him. I remember her pussy spread open so wide, wondering what it must have felt like to have him inside of her. I’m both terrified and intrigued to know that feeling someday. To know it with Xan.

  I take the coffee upstairs and find Xan already at work at his desk. He regards me politely as he takes the coffee from me, then he sits me next to him and gets me started on the day’s tasks. I enter a folder full of receipts into spreadsheet software on his laptop for half of the morning before he tells me it’s time for us to take a break.

  “I think I’m ready for breakfast,” he says, leaning back in his chair and chewing on his thumbnail for a moment.

  “Me, too.” I’m starving. It’s just past 9 AM. I typically eat breakfast at around 6:30 AM, but I didn’t bother making myself anything this morning because I figured that Xan would want me to cook for him. “What would you like for me to make?”

  Xan looks at me out of the
corner of his eye and smirks, his arm dropping to the armrest of his office chair. “You disrupted my plans by waking up early this morning, Miss Miller.”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  He rolls away from his desk a foot to open one of the drawers and pulls out a hanger with another set of lingerie more scantily designed than what I’m currently wearing. This one is royal blue, made of all silk and lace. There are plenty of parts that are uncomfortably sheer, like the legs of the panties and half of each bust cup. I suck in a breath as I take it in.

  “You need to change for the day.” He lays the lingerie across his desk.

  “Sir, this is a little...” I finger the soft lace on the bottom of the cami.

  “Oh, come now. After what we did together last night, you should be feeling more comfortable about letting me see your body.” His expression is wolfish, and the reminder of how wanton I was and the way I moved on top of him instantly makes my cheeks flame.

  “I’d like to preserve some modesty.” I fold my arms over my chest, refusing to take the lingerie.

  “How about preserving your job?” His tone takes a cruel turn.

  I tense from the threat. Is it always going to be like this? Will he dangle a pink slip in front of my face every time I defy him? It doesn’t quite seem fair.

  “Come here, Christiana.” Xan taps the top of his desk with his fingertips.

  I resist the urge to arch an eyebrow at him. I’m already sitting close to him. What does he expect of me?

  I roll my chair closer, and his brow furrows in disappointment. “No. Stand up. Come here,” he says in a more authoritative voice.

  I do what I’m told, taking the few steps forward until I’m right in front of him.

  He grabs me by the hips and guides me back against his desk. “Sit.”

  “What?” I glance at his keyboard.

  Seeing my hesitation, Xan stands and reaches around me to push his keyboard out of the way. Then with one sweeping motion, he clears everything else onto the floor, somehow managing to miss the lingerie. I cringe as I listen to the sounds of pens clattering against hardwood and papers leafing together as they make a slow fluttery descent. Xan’s body is practically on top of mine, and the room just got about twenty degrees hotter.