by Cee Smith
We could either keep dancing around the subject like nothing happened, or I could put it all on the line. I took one last glance around the office to see if anyone noticed me standing just outside Mr. Belford’s partially opened office door. Without a backwards glance, I slipped inside and took a seat on the couch where I imagined the various ways I would submit to Everett.
“I must say, this is no way to show your thanks,” he said brushing the door open wider as he stepped in. His words were already leaving his mouth before he was fully inside. He kicked the door shut, locked it, and moved toward his desk, tossing his lunch before turning to me.
“How did you know it was me?” When I’d entered, the blinds were already shut, granting me the element of surprise.
“You have a distinguishable scent. What are you doing in here, Ms. Ericson? I presume it isn’t to discuss work matters.”
“You’re right. It’s not. Are you really going to act like nothing happened?”
“I knew it was a mistake,” he said, shaking his head as if he was warring with himself. “You’re a smart girl, so I’ll be frank. You know nothing of the things I’m into—”
“BDSM. That’s it, right? I may not know much about it, but I can learn. You could teach me.” The words rushed out, hot and eager, filled with a juvenile hope that even I was aware of. I knew how naive I sounded. I was barely 23 and about as put together as an 18 year old fresh out of high school. I owned nothing but my aspirations, and here was this man, Everett Belford—the very definition of professional. A man put together in every sense of the word. I barely knew him, yet I admired him. Not only for how beautiful he was to simply stare at, but for the confidence he wore as clearly as a suit. I just wanted to be near him. Maybe his confidence would transfer by osmosis.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Indigo. You don’t know what it would mean to be my sub.”
“So tell me,” I said. My words sounded thick, filled with a heavy darkness I’d picked up from the look in his eyes. He was all of those things he usually was—dark, brooding, almost indifferent, but there was something else there too. He was a storm, holding back the madness threatening to take me under.
The room filled with a weight that pressed down on me. Orbs glazed over with a hunger that drew him nearer. I leaned back into the couch; my usually audacious approach vanished with the space evaporating between our bodies. My feet widened to accommodate his body leaning over mine. His waist was eye level and I looked up from my seat into eyes that seemed to sense the desperation in what I was asking. This was what made it harder. He knew exactly what I needed, what I wanted, what I could never ask of someone else. It wasn’t the kink, the sex, the taboo I craved. It was him.
“Do you know what it feels like to be owned by another person, Indigo?” he asked, leaning down until his warm breath wafted across my face. His fingers whispered across my jaw and curled beneath my chin, holding my face where my eyes couldn’t stray. My chest stuttered under the touch of his hand. This closeness was something I could only imagine and now that it was happening, in his office no less, I felt out of place. He continued, unaffected by my obvious inner turmoil. “I’m not talking about sucking a stranger’s dick for kicks. I’m talking about completely being at the mercy of another person. Feeling the pressing burn of an orgasm denied, the scream of your skin brought on for another’s sheer enjoyment. To be completely controlled by someone else.”
His words curved, hooking into me in a way I’d never experienced before. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be turned on by what he was saying. That was his intention, right? But all I could think of was him wielding that control, and suddenly the things that should have made me balk were the very things that made me want to sink down to the ground before him, in hopes to remind him of how it looked, how it felt to have me at his feet. My heart was racing and my skin tingled at the thought of what he could do with me.
“I’m not completely naive. I did some research and I want to learn. With you.”
“I would only hurt you. And before you cut me off, I’m not talking about physically. I mean emotionally. You will never be my girlfriend. I’m not someone you’ll be able to call and vent to when your little friends can’t hang out, or when your parents complain about you missing Friday night dinners. I’m not going to be that guy.”
“I get that. I definitely wouldn’t be doing this for your charming personality. I don’t even want a boyfriend,” I lied.
He stared at me sternly, as if he could tell that I was lying. Having his body would never be enough for me. It wasn’t three months ago and it wasn’t right then. In fact, the hunger was only more palpable, but I’d take whatever I could get and worry about the rest later. He continued to stare at me, and I was lost in how to react. Was I supposed to have spoken? Should I have lowered my eyes? I read some doms preferred that. Did he? I drew the hem of my skirt between my fingers, rubbing the chiffon layer in a circular motion, which created a quiet hum above the silence, like cicadas on a windless night.
“Another thing I don’t take well to. Bratty submissives.”
Everett drew back, still keeping eye contact as he made his way back to the desk. He settled his elbows on the glass, resting his fingers beneath his chin while deep in thought. I worried about what I’d said—had it been too sharp of a denial, too abrupt? What was he thinking?
“Stand over here,” he said, pointing to a spot just beyond his desk. I adjusted my skirt as I moved to stand, shuffling the chiffon back into place as I walked over to the exact spot he pointed at. The light was blinding there, the windows on the opposing walls overlapping like plaid ribbons stretched across my skin. Somehow he existed just outside of the blinding light, suffused in the shadows of this thing happening between us. I guess it was only appropriate that all of my wants and desires were right there out in the open for him to scrutinize.
“Undress,” he commanded with a slight flourish of his hand, an absent wave that had me shaking more from the flippant sound than what he was suggesting I do with one word. Mind blank, I turned back to look at the door.
“I didn’t tell you to look at the door. I told you to undress. Do you follow directions as lazily in your personal life as you do at work?”
I swallowed thickly around the tissues in my throat that had grown exponentially in a matter of seconds. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, the only sound that would come out would be a squeak. It was obvious what he had been trying to do. He wanted me to give up. He wanted me to make things easier for him, so that if I failed, he could say it was all my fault. I wasn’t going to make things so easy for him this time. We weren’t on a train, and he couldn’t just walk away. Not again.
As I slipped my hands up my blouse, I thought about the undergarments I had thrown on that morning. Did they match? Were they nice and new, or were they the old stuff from my starving student days? I guess it would be as much of a surprise to me as it would Everett. Although, I wasn’t so sure he was interested in seeing the underwear I had on for the five seconds he’d see me in it before it hit the floor. The sun felt cruelly bright as I slipped my shirt down my arms, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. My arms bent awkwardly to unhitch the hook in my bra as I stared at the spot on the floor where my shirt resided.
“Now stand over here,” he said, pointing to the side of his chair before letting his arms fall to the desk. My breasts bounced free of confinement, unsettling every nerve in my body clinging to modesty. Arms twitching, I fought the reflex to cover my chest. His eyes were on me, cold and assessing, deep and bottomless. Like peering out across the ocean looking for the end of the world, he was just as out of reach as ever. Untouchable. But that’s how it’d always been with us. Only thing I’d ever gained from him had been moments I’d stolen—our crushed skin triggered by my pressing need.
With dropped eyes, I slipped closer to his desk, feeling every bit of inertia drawing me closer to where he sat. A place where I already imagined my pelvis feeling the rush of being thrust again
st the glass, his hard, lean body at my back—the unbreakable wind steering the susceptible sails.
“Continue.”
I wrestled with the zipper of my skirt, hidden by the fabric at the side of my waist. Was it his heavy gaze that made my hands fumble? Endless minutes passed as I stared dazedly at my hands before the zipper relented. Thrusting my skirt and panties down to the floor, I finally allowed myself to return my attention to the man sitting silent before me. His eyes wandered across my skin, lingering over my lips, my breasts, and my pussy before traveling the length of my legs. Without words to accompany the look he’d given me, I couldn’t quite decipher his observant gaze. My fear was heavy like rocks in my belly, weighing me down to that one spot. I imagined the door to swing open at any moment and one of my co-workers to burst through the doors, not suspecting to find me stripped down, wearing nothing but Neutrogena’s body butter.
“I want you on my desk, knees apart. Head on the glass.”
One last look to the door and I stepped closer, very aware of his closeness. He didn’t slide away from the desk to allow me space to squeeze through. No, instead, he simply watched as I braced myself on the side of his desk. Painfully aware of the coldness of the glass, of the case of pens sitting on the far right corner of his desk, now parallel to where my ass sat. I slid back, watching his face for some signal to tell me to stop. When I didn’t receive one, I decided someone like him probably got off on my discomfort, which meant he’d probably want a firsthand glimpse at my snatch full of cream and clenching sphincter. When my feet were dangling off the edge of the desk and I was directly in front of him, I curled into a ball before assuming the position.
Memories from the train returned. That same fear that made my blood pulse in my ears and mind short-circuit with thoughts of what would happen next plagued me. I kept hoping my face mirrored the same resigned indifference to my nudity, to the whole situation really, but I couldn’t get past the image of him with a front row seat to seeing my most hidden parts. Places no one had ever seen that intimately. Not even Ryan or Cassius. I closed my eyes and resolved myself to what I was about to do.
Carefully, I peeled myself off of his desk, conscious of the way my skin stuck to the cold glass, protesting my movements. My blood felt like an unruly garden hose, an uncontrolled force that I couldn’t contain. I could only yield to the feeling of helplessness that shook my limbs. Everett still hadn’t moved, but I could feel him in every slither of my skin across the desk, every ray of light that danced down between parting clouds, every ragged intake of breath that creaked through my lips that he mocked with his silence. I took one last look at the door before I let my head hang, just before meeting the glass with my forehead. I braced my arms at my side, my fists clenching as my elbows and forearms braced my weight.
“Hips up, Indigo.”
So much for modesty.
I lifted my hips and widened my legs as he’d asked and felt my face flame in the new position. I guess there was one good thing to come from all of this. He couldn’t see my ripened tomato-face, red with embarrassment.
I heard the chair creak and held my breath as I wondered his next move. My whole body flushed with a stifling heat, like my limbs were wrapped in cellophane, yet the slight vibration that reverberated through the desk said something else. It held a megaphone announcing into the silence how my confidence had wavered. I was not the girl from the train anymore. I was not the girl who stalked around city blocks and swingers clubs searching out a man who looked at me with ambivalence. Those thoughts weren’t convincing me to stay sitting upright with my asshole on display like a cat that just wouldn’t drop its tail. And then a sound startled me, my elbows slipping across the top of his desk like water over ice.
The sound of shuffling plastic and crinkling paper alerted me to what was happening just out of my periphery. That sandwich that Everett threw on the desk less than ten minutes ago when he spotted me sitting in his office? Yeah, he held his lunch between hands as masculine and divine as Michelangelo’s David. And those lips. I’d fantasized for weeks about those lips until that smooth, taut skin captured my mouth in his and made me soar. I felt my folds slacken at the memory. What else could Everett do with those lips? My breasts sagged closer to the chilled glass beneath me as I panted through the fantasy.
It was obvious what he was trying to do. He wanted me off-kilter. He wanted me to give up, to forget about that night when I would have given him anything he wanted had he only asked. Hell, had I only an opportunity to offer. I’d done enough research to know the kind of things he might have been into, but I didn’t know the man well enough to know what he wanted to do to me. Or, if he wanted to do anything at all, seeing as how he brought a stranger to the hotel room. Not that I was even expecting that much when I sought him out that night.
His knuckles brushed the back of my thigh and I froze, air in lungs, limbs stiff as cardboard, hair swaying over my shoulder. Everything came to a stop with that one touch. There was no sound anymore to fill the space, just the heaviness of what would come next. Would he pull my hair, drawing me back into his lap where he would hold me down and rut into me like a savage? Did he just want one more touch, something that could hold him over indefinitely? My body searched for answers while my mind ran through every possible outcome. It was hard to gauge what would happen next because Everett was anything but predictable.
The silence tempted me to break the pulsing current rolling through my body. Just when I was about to give in and turn around, I felt the soft hollowness of cold bread hit my skin. Treating me like an inanimate object, he used me like a table to place his sandwich on. Was my mortification not enough? Did he need to show me the worst ways he would use my body?
“You know what it feels like to offer yourself to someone, but you have no idea what it means to be owned by another, Indigo.”
I heard his hands wipe together, probably dusting bread crumbs before he continued.
“What’s the most you’ve come at one time? Once, twice, three times maybe? What about 5, 6, 7 times? Have you ever come so much, your body shaking so heavily, you can’t even move? I would do that to you. I’d make you work for every orgasm. Do you know what it feels like to have an entire fist inside you?”
I looked down at my hands, afraid I was visibly shaking at his words.
“I’m not talking about dainty little hands like yours. I mean hands like mine,” he said. Swift, rough, hard hands gripped the back of my thighs, tightening like knots against my skin. A gush of desire leaked from me, painting my thighs in a coating of lust I was sure he could see. He knew I’d never done any of those things, but now he could see how blatantly my body craved what he spoke of.
His hands were so close to my core, just a slip and his fingers would plunge into my depths pulling my wanton desire into focus.
“Have you ever been flogged, caned, slapped? Where? The hip or the ass, something to make you speed up or slow down like a thoroughbred at the races? What about your breasts or face, your pussy? Have you ever been strapped down, legs spread, and had your cunt slapped? I hear it’s a delicious sting.”
A course of energy worked through me, leaving tremors in its wake. My heart stuttered in my chest at the image he’d painted. Is this what he planned on doing, right here and now? With my legs wide open and my pussy available for him? I wouldn’t even see the slap coming, but the thought made every hair on my body stand on end.
The chair creaked.
His grip tightened.
I swallowed hard, mentally preparing myself for what would come next.
I’d thought about a moment like this happening since that first time in the subway.
My limbs stiffened as the air between us vanished.
The heat from his body blossomed over me, and I counted the breaths being forced from my lips.
In.
Out.
One.
In.
Out.
Two.
In.
Out.
A cool stream of air licked across my folds, and I melted like butter on hot bread. My arms could barely hold me up, the sandwich still resting on my back stumbled, displaying every bit of my lack of control at just the touch of his breath on my most intimate parts. His warm breath fanned across me again, and I clenched at the nothingness that lingered there against my cleft. His hands moved to cup my ass, his thumbs slipping into the crease of my bottom to further open me up for appraisal.
“You wanted me to eat your pussy the other night, didn’t you?”
When he realized I wasn’t going to continue he said, “You may answer.”
“Yes,” I breathed—that one word full of every bit of desire lingering in my body.
“Were you disappointed?” he asked as his hands reached up to remove the sandwich.
“Umm, I don’t kn—”
“Don’t lie.”
“Yes. Yes, I was disappointed.”
“You can get down now.”
“What?” I asked, turning around the first time to see him lounging comfortably in his chair.
“You can get down,” he repeated with a challenge in his eyes. I wanted to run from there, from him, from everything that had happened the last fifteen minutes while I was on his desk, waiting. My embarrassment would have to get in line behind my throbbing pussy, at least until I relieved the tension coiling in my stomach and swirling between my legs.
Pulling myself across the front of his desk, I escaped sliding across his lap.
“You know that was fucking cruel,” I said as I hastily threw on my clothes. I rushed to the door and double-checked my button, zipper, and readjusted my hair before pulling the door open. When I yanked on the door handle, it caught on the lock, alerting me to the fact that we had never been at risk of being walked in on.
I looked back over my shoulder, throwing Everett a scowl before I unlatched the lock and burst from the door with as much contained fury as I could without causing a scene.
Wednesday, September 16th Continued
