The Victoria Blisse Collection

by Victoria Blisse

  My hand sunk once more to his crotch and opened the fly and button I found there. I pushed the trousers down, along with the boxers beneath, and dropped to my knees. I buried my face in his crotch. I licked and sucked at his balls as I inhaled his unique musk.

  “Oh, yes. Fuck, Mistress, you’re so good to me.” His words urged me on, his hand gently resting on my head. It comforted me as I licked up from his tightened balls to his cock. I took my time. I licked, nibbled and lay tight-lipped kisses up and down his shaft until he was moaning incoherently. Then, I stopped.

  “My turn.” I grinned and pulled off my T-shirt. I popped off my bra, my fingers heavy with lust and finding the catch difficult. He helped guide the material off my arms and pushed down my trousers and knickers while my tongue traced patterns along his neck and shoulder.

  He gently guided me to my right and pushed me resolutely down onto the warm, cotton sofa.

  “Lick my cunt,” I commanded and thrilled to see him drop to his knees, without a moment’s hesitation. He crawled forward until he was between my thighs. He leant in and pushed my thighs wide with his work-worn hands. His head lowered tentatively and I felt a soft flick of his tongue tickling at my pussy lips.

  “Come on, boy. Put some effort into it.”

  He lunged into me, parting my lips with his tongue and driving the tip into me. I yelped as he fucked me with his tongue. He sucked up my juices with noisy slurps and ran his rough tongue over my clit as I clasped his hair in one hand and lewdly spread my cunt lips for him with the other.

  “That’s enough,” I panted as the arousal became too much. “Fuck me.”

  I pushed him back to give myself room. I turned round and knelt on the edge of his sofa, my legs spread, my hands gripping the back. I turned my head and looked at him.

  “Come on, boy, fuck me with that sweet dick of yours. Please your Mistress and fill up her cunt.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His voice was rough with arousal and his entrance into my body was equally rude. He pushed himself inside me with one, hard thrust, forcing my body forward and scratching my sensitive nipples against the fabric of the sofa.

  “Yeah, fuck me, boy, fuck me hard. I want to come all over your cock.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He banged into me with such force, the sofa moved.” I want you to come for me.”

  I clung with one hand, holding myself up against his erotic onslaught. With the other, I sought out my clit. I rubbed it gently and felt the orgasmic spring tighten immediately.

  “Fuck, Mistress, I’m going to fill you. Can I come inside of you, Mistress, please?” I groaned at his submissive words and rubbed harder at my clit.

  “Yes, yes, come inside me, Rob. Fill me now.” I gave him permission to fill me as I flooded his cock with juices. My pussy contracted in an intense orgasm.

  He roared again as he emptied into me. I remembered the last time he’d roared, in that alleyway, fucking me quickly at my command.

  “Fuck, I needed that,” I groaned as he slipped from me. I collapsed onto the sofa. He sat on the floor beside me and laid his head on my thigh.

  “So did I. I didn’t expect to see you at my door.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t stay away.” I blushed a little then, as I realised how impetuous I had been.

  “I’m glad,” he replied, and kissed my thigh gently.

  “Will you visit me, soon? I do believe I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Yes, I will. I only ever work ‘til one on a Saturday and I have Sunday off.”

  “So you’ll visit me next Saturday?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “It’s only a trip over the pennies. I’d fly the length of the world to get to you, Mistress.”

  “I know.” The words stuck in my throat, overwhelmed by emotion. “And I’m glad”.

  He turned, climbed to his knees and kissed me. I enjoyed the warmth of his lips, drank in his scent and the muskiness of the air around us.

  “I love you,” he whispered, soft and full of emotion.

  “I love you too, sweet man. I can’t get enough of you.”

  “I hope that never changes,” he sighed. I stroked my fingers through his hair.

  “It won’t, darling, it won’t. I would not find another sex slave as eager, handsome and pleasing as you if I spent the rest of my life looking.”

  He blushed and chuckled nervously. “Thank you, Mistress. This is all new to me, but I like it and I want to please you so much.”

  “And that is all that matters, love. That is all that matters.”

  “Now, do you think you could let me get some sleep?” Rob yawned. “I need my beauty sleep too, you know.”

  We laughed, and went to bed. Together.

  Till the End

  The interviews had not been going well. Since nine o’clock this morning a steady line of rejects and reprobates had streamed in through my door. Some lost the job the minute they walked in. I expect an interviewee to be smart, not dressed in denim, covered in body piercing, and chewing gum. Others had appalling conversation skills and, even though the main job of a checkout assistant is to scan goods, they do need to be able to hold up some form of polite chitchat.

  At two PM, I came back after lunch to start again. I heard the click-clack-clop of my heels hitting the cold hard floor as I walked past the next bunch of wanters, needers, and losers, then I saw one who stood out from the rest. I felt myself straightening up even further, sticking out my breasts and even smiling. I caught his gaze and grinned. His face split into a smile that reached his eyes as well as his ears. He was gorgeous; sparkling deep, dark eyes that in the artificial light look almost black, and dark mahogany-brown cropped hair set off his olive tanned skin to perfection.

  I bet he’s thick. He can’t be intelligent and pretty, surely? I thought as I shut my office door behind me, sitting down at my desk and automatically reaching for my handbag. I took out my compact and powdered my nose, frowning as I noticed the lines that radiated around my eyes. I’m an old woman of forty-five and that day I felt more like a seventy-year-old, well, apart from when I walked past that young Adonis, then I felt young, virile and sexy.

  You daft old bat! I chided myself. He’s a young man, stop fantasizing about him. He won’t want a wrinkled up fat bird on his arm, will he?

  I slipped off my black blazer and draped it over my chair back. I sighed as I looked down at the ledge that is my cleavage. Some days I wished my breasts were detachable, they weigh a ton and men talk to them instead of me. They also drop down towards my navel when released from my bra, making me realise that I’m old enough to have gravity take control of my body. I am no longer young, pert, and defiant. The white material of my work blouse pulled taut as I reached forward to pick up a pen. I flipped open another button on my top, pretending to myself that it was because I was overheating in this summer haze and not because images of that young lad were burning in my mind.

  I walked to the door, popped my head round, and called the first candidate in. She was a young girl who had at least made an effort to look smart. I looked down the row. The gorgeous lad was looking at one of the employee magazines, boring as hell, but more exciting than staring at the crème brulee colour of the corridor walls. There were another handful of people before I had to see him. I would have calmed down by that time, I hoped.

  But, I hadn’t. Every time I took another failure to the door, my eyes were drawn to him. Several times his eyes met mine, making me feel as nervy as this crowd of reprobates looked. I kept calling out names, each time I came to a male name I hoped it was him, but it never was. Well, he was certainly eager, he must have turned up hours early for his interview.

  I had really hoped I would have gotten all the potential checkout assistants I needed before getting to him, but I hadn’t. I had a couple who would be worth the training but I still needed a few more.

  As m
y pile of applicants dwindled, I finally came across the application of a young man named James. He had incredibly good A-level results, was studying law at the local university and had a little experience with working in a shop. He looked promising, time again to look out on the scared faces of my potential employees and time once again to attempt to not look at him.

  “James Price?” I shouted as I came to the door. I looked round and no one had moved.

  “James Price?” I avoided looking over to where he was seated so I didn’t see him until he was within a few paces of me, striding confidently forward. I smiled at him and he returned the smile, confidently looking straight into my eyes as he took hold of my hand and shook it in greeting.

  I must have seemed like a right girl, my handshake was as limp as a rag doll in the rain. I couldn’t get past the shocks of sheer sexual need shooting all around me from just the strong grip of a handshake. Warm and soft, I could have held his hand all day, but thankfully some of my motor neurons kicked in and allowed me to let go of his hand and turn around to go back into my office. He grasped hold of the door handle, holding it for me to go in before following himself.

  “Now that is what I like to see. Gallantry isn’t dead.”

  He carried on smiling at me, a throaty chuckle vibrating from his voice box directly to the pit of my stomach and maybe even my loins (whatever they are) and down into those distinctly womanly areas that shouldn’t be mentioned in polite company.

  “My mum always taught me to be courteous. I haven’t forgotten that, and after all it’s only good manners really!”

  I don’t know how sincere he was being or if this was his interview patter, but already I was ready to offer him the job with very special and personal tasks on the side. I scolded myself internally for getting carried away and buried my head in his resume.

  Then I just got into my usual interview patter, checking details and allergies and gathering all those strange but apparently essential tidbits for the company to know.

  He was lovely. Chatty but not too personal; friendly without being overly so, exactly the kind of person who would do well behind a till. He’d have the old dears talking his ears off, the young girls flirting, and the children would love his smile and gentle aura. Also I could already see the gangs of giggling girls ogling his cute face and slim frame.

  He had really beautiful hands, large but not overly so, not too bony but not too fleshy either; and those fingers, wow those fingers, long and wonderfully well proportioned.

  “James,” I found myself saying, looking deep into those sincere dark eyes—that was another thing I realised, he hadn’t looked at my breasts once whilst talking to me. He always met my gaze, however, who knows where he looked when my attention was elsewhere?

  “James, I don’t normally do this but as you are virtually the last person here, I am going to tell you that you definitely have the job.”

  “Thank you, Miss Elliot,” he said, “That’s fantastic. It means I don’t have to do any more interviews.”

  “The training starts on Monday. You’ll get a letter in the post in the next few days giving you all the details. Oh, and call me Susan, Miss Elliot makes me sound old.” I giggled a little, more from nerves than anything else.

  “Okay, Susan.” He smiled, “because you’re anything but old. I will see you on Monday.”

  With that, he shook my hand again. Oh, to feel him touching me, I hadn’t felt so giddy in a long time. I’d been a career woman far too long with no man in my life, no suitors, and only the odd bit of echoey flirtation. That day I felt on fire, it wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t a happy-smiley feeling, it was intense and passionate and bordering on the painful but I felt and that was the brilliance of it.

  I berated myself all the way home for breaking the rules. I shouldn’t have told him he’d got the job then and there, but I knew he would have other interviews and consequently other work offers and I wanted him at ShopingSmart with me. He was the best candidate for the job, none of the few left impressed me more than he did but I still felt that maybe I’d let my pussy make all the decisions. They say men think with their dicks, well I can now confirm that women can think with their genitals, too. Not that he’d want to get anywhere near my old woman genitals with his young, athletic penis. At forty-five, I was twice his age and that thought made me feel even older.

  * * * *

  I had close to a week to recover from meeting James, and I thought I was doing fairly well. I had convinced myself I had made a professional decision, that my hormones were just playing up and that training would not be a problem. All that went off the roof and plunging to its destruction on the tarmac below when I saw him again.

  He was casually dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans but he still managed to look smart. He stood out from the other trainees who looked scruffy and half-asleep with the nine AM start.

  As I went into my training spiel (thank God we have a high turnover of employees and I know this training session of by heart), I tried my best to ignore him. I tried to ignore the heat generated inside me from his mere presence. I thought I was actually doing quite well at one point, then he put his hand up to ask a question and I had to look into those eyes. I know it’s clichéd, but his eyes hypnotised me, drew me in, made me feel like walking up to him and grabbing a handful of his top to pull his lips against mine and to kiss the hell out of the poor young boy.

  Remember that, I told myself, he’s just a boy.

  By the end of the day, I was totally frazzled. My nipples we’re so over sensitised that just the rub of my sensible cotton bra made them crinkle with delight. My knickers were soaked, I felt like the world could smell how hot and aroused I was by this young scrap of a boy and what worried me more was I didn’t really care, in fact I quite liked feeling so sluttish.

  I felt a twinge of sadness as I drove home. I wasn’t likely to see much of James as he’d be on the tills in the store and, more often than not, I would be stuck in my office, taking interviews. I may catch a glimpse of him now and then but that was it. The common sense and mature part of me felt that this was a good thing and that maybe I would stop acting so silly and get back to my normal sensible self, however the romantic in me, well the Sexual Susan in me, was upset. She wanted to push him into the broom closet, rip down his pants and eagerly suck upon his young virile cock until it spurted obscenely into her mouth.

  I had never felt so sexual before. Sure, I’d had boyfriends, I’d had sex and, yes, liked it, but I had never felt anything so raw, so primal, and so naughty. I got home that night and went straight to my bed. I lay there and ripped off my panties, feeling the soaked material in my fingers before throwing them carelessly away. I hitched up my skirt, spread my legs, and fucked myself. My fingers easily slipped inside my hot pussy. I was so wet that I could hear a slurping noise every time I screwed my fingers in and out of my hole.

  I imagined it was his young cock filling me. I imagined his hard body hovering over me, his eyes gazing deep into my own, his soft lips pressing against mine and his tongue stabbing into my mouth as his cock stabbed into my pussy. I came fast, hard and juicily. I roared in my release and blushed when I realised I had. I couldn’t believe that I had been so driven by my carnal lusts that I hadn’t even shut the curtains. Anyone could have been watching, but shockingly, part of me actually found that exciting.

  “You’re turning into a bloody nymphomaniac.” I said it out loud, shook my head and went downstairs to heat my tea in the microwave.

  * * * *

  It wasn’t many days later when I saw James again, in fact he knocked on the door to my office and in answering it, I couldn’t avoid seeing him.

  “Come in.” I said distractedly, my head buried in the pile of new application forms littering my desk.

  “Hello, Susan.” I looked up and there he was, dressed in a pair of black scratchy work trousers with plain black shoes and, instead
of a work shirt and tie, he was wearing a T-shirt.

  “Carol sent me to you. The shirt I was issued is too small for me, could I have a new one?”

  He smiled that smile and I dropped the application form in my hand onto the desk.

  “Certainly” I grinned, stood up and walked over to the wall of locked cupboards, fiddling with my keys and nervously opening the one filled with uniforms.

  “Is this your first day then?” I asked, making small talk as I rummaged through the drawers trying to find the male shirts.

  “Yeah, it is. I’m a bit nervous, actually.” He admitted to me. I looked over at him and he was nibbling his bottom lip, I longed to nibble it for him.

  “Oh, you’ll be fine. Once you’ve got the hang of the tills you’ll have no problems.” I grinned.

  “Here you go, come and rummage through these, you’re sure to find one that fits eventually.” I giggled and moved back to my desk and back to the application forms. I didn’t read another word as I surreptitiously watched his arse as he bent over to rummage for a shirt, eventually he pulled one out.

  “Is it okay to try it on here to make sure it fits?” He asked.

  “S...s...sure.” I stuttered my consent as my face flushed red. I watched open mouthed as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, his lightly tanned skin revealed to my sight. His tight little puckered nipples dark and begging to be sucked taunted me and I felt like I was holding back the sex starved me from running at him then and there and sucking like a demon on one of those nipples.

  “Are you okay?” James’s voice broke into my daydream.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry I was miles away then, working something out in my head, math was never a strong subject of mine.” I giggled hysterically as I tried to cover my embarrassment.

  “Oh, right, I thought you were a cannibal about to pounce and eat me for lunch from the look on your face.” He laughed, deep and throaty, but I could see he was also flushing across his cheeks and his chest.