Surprised that any businessman would ask questions of her straight away, Celia blushed.
“Well… you’ll be surprised how well a few well-placed balloons will do to the crowds,”
George laughed, a red blotchiness growing on his skin betraying his drunken state.
Just then, menus were gently placed in front of the guests and new batches of freshly baked bread distributed among the drunken men.
Before Celia could look at the menu Trent had begun to tap his wineglass with a fork.
“Lady and gentlemen, I would like to propose a toast. To good fortune, good business and good company,” Trent let his eyes linger on Celia’s and took a generous sip of his wine.
2
With the food orders taken, another bottle of priceless red was opened and poured; the conversation had bubbled and flowed as well as any dinner party Celia had ever been to. Most of the guests had been hardworking managers and entrepreneurs who had met Trent in his early days and were eventually recruited to help shape the organization into its formidable standing today.
George had proved an entertainer at heart; Celia’s sides were in stitches at his streams of jokes.
Entrees had been flavorful bites, and now the mains were being dished out. Celia had settled on a steak, while most of her new colleagues had cleverly chosen filling pastas to quench their drunken appetites.
George had chosen a type of seafood pasta glistening with olive oil and filled with mussels, prawns and lobster meat.
The conversation had come to a lull, and it seemed that the table guests were grouping into closer chats.
“So,” said George between bites, “How did Trent uncover this hidden gem that is Celia,” his green eyes flashed with bemusement.
Celia dug her sharp knife deeper into the steak, “Well, at a charity function actually. I sort of, insulted him,”
George choked and coughed on his pasta, “What?”
“Yes!” she laughed, “He was buying everything at this auction and I got suspicious so I gave him a call, can’t say it was the typical kind of introduction but he said he was impressed and called me the next day to discuss some of his… event plans,”
George laughed into his wineglass, “A spark like you is hard to find,” he then turned his body toward Celia, knocking his knees against hers.
“So, you and Trent work closely?”
“Not… really,” Celia focused on her meal, “I mean, he gives me the briefs, I liaise with him at the events and report on findings, but my main contact is Ben, the personal assistant. Now that guy is a superstar,”
George nodded slowly, the alcohol in his blood slowing his absorption of information.
“Well, I have never seen him so focused and proactive before,” George patted Celia’s shapely thigh and leaned forwards, “Before you came in, we were having serious conversations on giving him some time off. You’ve done a great job for the whole business,” George’s hand rubbed back and forth over Celia’s dress fabric, “So, you been the UK before?”
Celia took a bite of her steak and shook her head.
“Oh, you should. It’s just across the pond, you know. You could bring along your… partner, or what have you, and I can show you around, it would be my pleasure” his hand lingered on Celia’s dress.
Celia couldn’t help her lips pulling up into a grin and took her time looking before looking back, “That’s too generous, but no, there’s no partner just yet,”
“How can that be? An exotic woman like you not having a partner, that’s a crime in itself, what is the world coming to?” George wasn’t the first to comment appreciatively on her glowing skin and dark features. At that, George’s broad hand made an appreciative sweep of her leg, edging further toward her inner thigh. A shiver of anticipation trembled down Celia’s spine and settled as a pleasant buzz in the pit of her belly.
The thick white linen tablecloth hid everything from view, and George looked a natural using one hand to twirl and fork his pasta. Celia’s heart thumped, and with the subtlest of movements she opened her thighs out under George’s hand.
George stopped twirling his pasta and grinned into his plate. Licking his lips, he slowly resumed eating while his left hand trailed back down Celia’s dress to her knee and snuck beneath the fabric.
Celia focused on cutting her juicy steak and spearing the vegetables, but her senses were tingling like crazy as her body tracked George’s slow progress into her inner thighs.
George’s hand stroked the soft mocha skin of her inner thigh, and edged up further. Celia responded and rolled her thighs out under the table, letting her guest reach her dampening panties.
Trent was busy talking shop to the guests on his left, and the representatives across the table were watching sport replays on their smartphones.
“No one is watching,” George muttered, his eyes flashing with excitement.
Celia blushed and turned toward him, a move that actively scooped George’s hand into her crotch, “I am so far impressed with your work,” she started, batting her eyelashes at him “But what are you going to do now?”
George put down his fork, reached for his glass and took a sip; “I’ll leave you breathless,”
At that, George’s fingers ran up and down the center of Celia’s panties, enticing the buzzing flesh underneath.
Slowly up and down George ran his fingers and knuckles over the satin fabric, pressing the panties into Celia’s damp nether regions. Celia’s hole was practically gaping by the fifth rub, her clit engorged with blood and throbbing angrily.
“You are just delicious,” George whispered toward her.
Celia went to reach for him, but George shook his head, “Another time Cherie, this is all you,”
George’s hand stopped moving, and his thumb press down on the tip of Celia’s clit. Celia practically jolted in her seat, and had to squeeze the cutlery in her hands to stop herself from moaning.
Then, George’s thumb started circling the tip, his slow and concentrated movements livening her wet center. She thrust her hips toward his hand, her clit demanding a hard rub, but George eloquently slid the pressure away.
Celia’s let out a breath and miserably tried to focus on getting the food onto her fork.
Just as she popped another bite into her mouth George’s fingers slid under the panties and a deft thick finger slotted into her pussy.
Celia moaned, and in horror noticed the rest of the guests had looked up at her.
Trying to keep her rampant heart in check, Celia motioned to her steak, “This is just divine, how are your meals?”
With George’s finger sliding in and out of her slurping hole, Celia feigned interest as each guest reeled off shopping lists on sumptuous their meals were. Just as the last guest gave his rendition of a perfectly roasted shoulder of lamb, Celia thought she had averted disaster. That was until George’s non-descript English colleague, Carl, had decided to focus his attention on her and talk about other meals he had experienced in other fine restaurants.
“This is definitely a wonderful restaurant, but have you ever been to The Framers on the west coast?”
“Um, no, I can’t say I have,” Celia’s pussy was now squelching with juice, but George didn’t seem at all deterred and was gently easing the mouth of her slit open to slide another finger inside.
“Now that is an oyster bar worth writing home about, they have the most delicious menu. I think they catch their oysters that morning on their own boat! But, if you’re after steak, and you certainly sound like you enjoy your steak, I heard there was a….” Carl’s voice mingled with the ambient noise of the candlelit restaurant, Celia could barely nod her head in feigned agreement as her body opened and surrendered to George’s fingering.
“…What do you think?” Carl asked.
“Oh, I totally agree, you’ll have to email across a list of your favorite restaurants and recommendations for me,” Celia hoped that was the answer he had fished for.
Suddenly, Geor
ge then seemed to twist his torso away from Celia to ask his neighbor a quick question, what this did was allow him to twist his wrist and slip the tip of his thumb into Celia’s swollen clit. Stuck in this position while he spoke to his colleague, George was in the perfect position to massage Celia’s sopping g-spot and rub her steel-hardened clit.
Burrowing her elbows into the table, Celia involuntarily arched her back and dropped her tailbone, widening and engorging her wet pussy with more of George’s hand.
“Oh Carl,” George motioned to his colleague, cutting the conversation off, “Tell me about the fishing thing you did just the other weekend,”
Now no longer under the focus of Carl, Celia opened her thighs as wide as she could and pretended to reach for her napkin. Instead, she grabbed George’s hand, extracted the fingers and vigorously rubbed them against her slick nub.
George obliged and discreetly swirled his fingers faster and faster around Celia’s clit before plunging three of his fingers back into her tightened slit. A fine beading of sweat had erupted on Celia’s neck, and her breath caught in gasps. Further and further she spread her thighs to George’s touch. Slamming his fingertips against her swollen g-spot, George was finger-fucking Celia into orgasm at a table of strangers. Unable to stop the pent-up orgasm from screaming through her body, Celia gripped the edge of the table and squeezed her butt as her pussy pulled and squeezed on George’s slick fingers, a spurt of cum soaking his hand and her panties. Celia trembled with the violent orgasm and pulled her thigh’s together to try and control the pelvic convulsions, until finally, she began breathing again.
George left his fingers inside of Celia for a few more moments before letting them slide out. Celia watched in surprise as George lifted his hand from his lap and slipped the glistening fingers into his mouth in front of Carl and the other guests, who were oblivious to this strange show.
“Mmmm, delicious,” George interrupted, slurping on his digits, “Sorry to interrupt boys, but I could so do this again,” and although he motioned to his almost finished plate, Celia knew it wasn’t the pasta he had enjoyed.
3
The table guests stood at the entrance of the restaurant, a legion of arranged taxis sitting at the curb ready to take the guests back to their hotels.
The service at the restaurant had been impeccable, and at Celia’s recommendation the wait staff had arranged the taxis shortly after the desserts had been served.
George and Carl had been the first to leave shortly after dessert; they were catching the last flight back to London. George had loudly reiterated his cordial invitation to show Celia the London sights should she be in town with a day to kill, then patted her shoulder and left; he hadn’t even given her his number.
Now, Celia was wrapped in her trench coat and was waving off each Avery Industries guest as they fell into their taxis and zoomed off into the distance.
The last taxi had left, and Celia was standing with Trent on the sidewalk.
“My driver is coming around now, would you like a lift home?”
“Ha, as if I would be given the choice,” Celia laughed.
The limousine arrived and Trent motioned the driver to stay seated while he opened the door for Celia and he slid in next to her.
The limousine was classically elegant. No outrageous or glowing bars, just sumptuous leather, hidden chilled bins and plenty of ports for Trent to hook up his technology while on the move.
Celia leant against Trent and drank in his heady scent, no matter which cologne he wore she could still detect the sexual animalistic side of his nature. She had seen men and women quail in his presence in both the boardroom and bedroom.
Celia had drunk more than her fair share of wine, so her inhibitions were at an all-time low, so she slipped her hand onto Trent’s crotch and gave a gentle squeeze. Despite the rocketing orgasm from earlier, she desperately wanted to finish the evening with Trent inside of her.
Trent let out a deep breath and pulled Celia closer, “All I wanted was to be alone with you in the restaurant,” he muttered into her hair, “You looked stunning, and the guys loved you,” there wasn’t a touch of irony in his voice, the aggressive fingering must have gone unnoticed.
“I would be lying if I said I was completely focused on dinner,” Celia started, “May I take the best seat in the house?”
Trent smiled and spoke to his driver to take them for a drive along the waterfront, and then he activated the privacy screen.
Celia wriggled her panties off while Trent unzipped his pants and pulled out his long and thick cock. Even though his cock wasn’t entirely aroused, the girth was impressive.
Celia slid onto Trent’s lap and pitched slightly forward, letting Trent hike up her black dress. He gave Celia’s chocolate bottom a good squeeze before reaching for his length and lining it up with Celia’s slit.
“Jesus, you’re soaking,” Trent gasped as he felt droplets of Celia’s juice drop onto his swelling plum head.
“Hmm-mm,” Celia fed Trent’s tip inside and slid down his length, coming to a stop in his lap.
“Holy…. Fuck…” Trent bucked and wrapped his hands tightly around Celia’s shapely waist, her hips giving the perfect anchor for his thrusts.
Pitching forwards, Celia slid up Trent’s length and milked his cock, each lift and drop making Trent harder and thicker.
The sights of the city swept past the windows as Celia fucked her boss, her ample bottom cushioning her drop into Trent’s muscled thighs. The pressure of Trent’s swollen head along the length of her slippery pussy was making Celia gasp and pant, and she could tell from Trent’s anguished pulls on her hips that he was getting close.
Between breaths, Trent gasped to Celia, “Go forward, put your hands on the bench seat,”
Celia leant further forward and got onto her knees, Trent following the movement so his cock stayed snug inside her vacuum slit. With Celia leaning on the seats opposite, Trent used his new position to wildly plunge his cock into her sopping hole, the slap of flesh reverberating in the cavernous plush limousine.
Just as Celia began to feel the tingle of another orgasm, the piercing shrill of a mobile phone blared from Trent’s pants.
Trent plunged his cock deeply into Celia and then fumbled with his pocked and plucking his phone out. After a moment, there was a beep as Trent flicked the call to connect, “What the fuck is going on,” no matter how annoyed she was that Trent insisted on answering the phone while he was still inside her, Celia was shocked at how angry he sounded, “He left what? Fuck, ok. Look sorry for snapping, thanks for calling,”
Celia could feel Trent deflate inside of her, “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to the office, one of our guests left his briefcase in the office and needs it back before his 7am flight tomorrow,” Trent pulled his thick length from Celia and tucked it back into his pants before pulling Celia’s skirt down and giving her a hand back to their seats.
“I’m sorry, for… that and answering the phone,” Trent pulled Celia into the crook of his armpit.
Celia’s insides writhed, but she knew that with Trent’s personal apartments in the penthouse of his building there was a good chance of an encore performance if she played her cards right, “That’s fine, it wasn’t your fault.”
4
By the time they got to the corporate suites of Avery Industries the city had mellowed and most of the surrounding skyscrapers were only illuminated by the legion of cleaning staff working off each building’s emergency lighting systems.
Trent and Celia combed the office until they found the briefcase and Trent ran down to get his driver to drop it off at the guest’s hotel.
Meanwhile, Celia made herself comfortable in Trent’s very expensive leather desk-chair and watched the city through his floor-to-ceiling windows; the view was spectacular.
“Enjoying yourself?” Trent had snuck back into the office, his perfect ‘V’ frame blocking most of the doorway. Had Trent not gone into entrepreneuriali
sm he could have been a stellar rugby player or rower on appearance alone.
“It’s better, now,” Celia smiled at Trent, “So is this what you see every day here? Do you make your secretaries and interns mince around for you?”
“Ben does all the mincing I need, but no, I don’t play that game here,” Trent walked forwards and placed his hands down on the heavy wooden desk.
“Really? Well, then I guess I’ll need to pop these back on then,” Celia held her panties up for Trent to see.
“Oh now, don’t be so harsh, a man can change,” Trent feigned horror.
“Well, Mr. Avery,” a naughty glint caught in Celia’s eye, she had a saucy idea. Leaping up from the chair, Celia made the best impression of a fastidious secretary she could and hip-swayed her way around the desk to her boss, “How can I be of service?” she stood close to Trent and gave her ample bosom a thrust.
“Well,” Trent growled back, “You can rethink your clothing options Miss, this dress is far too revealing, your heels too suggestive and the absence of panties a total shame in a place of work, it will give the men impure thoughts. Am I going to have to punish this infringement?”
“Mr. Avery, I will do anything to keep my job,” she winked.
Trent ignored the wink and continued with his gruff persona, “Good, that’s what I expected. You’re going to take some… dictation,”
Celia grabbed a notepad and pen and sat in the guest chair in front of the desk.
“I…” Trent began, waiting for Celia to write.
“I…” she repeated.
“Will…”
“Will…”
“Wear… Panties… To… Work…”
Celia scribbled this down and looked up, a little underwhelmed by Trent’s creativity.
“Because…” Trent continued, “My… Boss… Wants… To… Ram… His… Rock hard… Cock… Into… My… Gushing… Pussy,”
Celia looked back up at Trent, “How can I recompense this infringement, sir?”
ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS Page 19
