by Jamie Knight
We didn’t have a lot of close family, and with the pandemic, it didn’t make sense to have a big wedding. We’ll have a party for our friends later, but for now, we had a little celebration, Jillian witnessed our elopement at the courthouse, and now I was Harlee Johnson.
I let out a happy sigh and coiled my arms around Caleb’s neck. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a hell of a view,” he murmured.
I looked at him, and he wasn’t looking at the sunset at all, but at my body. I’m sheathed in nothing but one of his t-shirts at the moment. We’ve had a lazy Sunday today, sleeping in and enjoying breakfast in bed before taking a nice, long trail ride and having a picnic.
It felt like magic, like a fairytale dream, and some little part of me was still sort of waiting to wake up. But my nightmare part was behind me, and I was living the dream come true now.
I leaned in to kiss him, and felt the fires stoked inside me. No matter how many times we kissed, no matter how much we got of each other, we always wanted more. No kiss stayed sweet and innocent, we were all over each other like a couple of hormone-addled teenagers.
Hard to believe he’d taken me from virgin novice to his own personal assistant…in every way.
His hands ventured under my dress, and he made a pleased sound of surprise when his hand slid up my thigh to find nothing in his way. I didn’t always go commando now, but honestly, he’d ruined enough pairs of my panties by shredding them that I didn’t bother often.
I reached down for the zipper of his jeans and drew his cock out of his pants. Thick, hard, pulsing and just waiting for me. And with him teasing my entrance with those skilled fingers, it doesn’t take long before I’m wet and ready for him.
He hiked up my skirt and I lowered myself down onto him, his pussy sinking deep, deep into me. We’d stopped using condoms recently after a lengthy discussion. While we weren’t actively trying to start a family, we both decided that we were ready to see what would happen.
And I relished the feeling of him raw inside me. I loved it, and I loved it even more when he filled me, marking me from the inside.
So now, as I was riding him, that’s what I was reaching for. I know, with him, my own pleasure is a guarantee, but I got a thrill out of making him groan and gasp for me.
I tightened the walls of my cunt around him and he let out a low hiss, his fingers digging into my hips. “Fuck, Harlee, you’re so fucking tight.”
I bent down and kissed him, hard, too breathless to answer as an orgasm spirals through me and makes me see stars.
But even as he wrought every last drop of pleasure from the climax, pumping into me over and over and sending aftershock after aftershock rippling through me, I wanted more, and once I’d recovered, I rode him harder.
“I just can’t get enough of you,” I breathed, “I love you, Caleb, I love you so much.”
“And I love you, Harlee Johnson,” He murmured in my ear.
He loved using my new full name. He loved that I belonged to him and him alone, and he proved it as another orgasm wracked me and he reached his own.
He bathed my insides in his hot, load, and carefully lifted me off of him while keeping me snug and secured in his lap.
I could feel my own arousal mixed with his seed dripping down my thighs, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
All I cared about was this beautiful sunset, and this magical moment with the love m
THE END
Under His Discipline
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.
All rights reserved.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
Chapter 1 - Charli
An electric current jolted from my core, fizzing my nerve endings. How had I gotten so lucky?
Sure, some graduates got jobs at important companies right out of college, but this was almost silly. At nineteen, zipping right through the two-year journalism degree I’d started when I was seventeen, I had already landed a job with the editor and publisher of Here and Now, the country’s biggest current affairs magazine.
I pinched myself when I picked up the message just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I had dreams like that a lot. The phrase “daydreams and aspirations” was literal in my case. Sometimes, it was like I could see the future through my daydreams.
I didn’t understand what had made me stand out. I had done my best to get as far in the selection process as I could, but still, there must have been a million girls ready to throw puppies out of windows to have an opportunity like the one I’d been offered.
Pride and anxiety fought a pitched battle in my mind. Pride in myself that I had landed such an outstanding role and anxiety that I’d secured such an important job—neither side seemed to get the upper hand. Along with the I.T. Department, executive assistants were the ones that kept things going at the larger organizations.
CEOs were only human and therefore equipped with the standard-issue two hands and one brain (though the latter was debatable sometimes), so they needed help from paid underlings like me. Our job was to make them look good and to help justify their high salaries. To be fair, the greatest among them must have some skill in terms of management. Even the finest trainer still couldn’t herd cats.
What to wear for my first day left my stomach in knots. A small world of options lay across my mattress, and yet I stood paralyzed by choice. Should I go stuffy and professional or sexy and flirty?
Well, maybe not sexy and flirty, but showing my femininity couldn’t hurt. That way, if I screwed up, my boss might keep me around just to look at me. Anything was possible. I chose something in between.
I put on a sleeveless blouse that did pleasant things for my boobs and a pleated skirt that came halfway down my thighs. I looked at my reflection in my full-length mirror, liking what I saw. Showy, but not sexy. Professional but not prudish. The downside was the outfit demanded high heels. I had two pairs, but I hadn’t attempted to wear heels since prom.
Throughout college, I lived in sneakers or flip flops. I placed a hand on my stomach, trying to calm myself. Surely, walking in heels would come back soon enough.
I squeezed my feet into a black pair of three-inch pumps, took a deep breath, and wobbled toward my bedroom door.
Three steps was all it took until I damn near face-planted. The hardwood floor gave my knees a good bash, but it could have been worse. I assessed the damage. Everything looked okay. Not even a bruise, which was surprising. Usually, bruises bloomed like flowers on my fair skin.
Compromise was always my strong suit. Rather than risking my knees or neck to wear heels while going for the bus, I switched to a comfy pair of sneakers for the trip. I would switch back to the stylish torture devices when I got to work.
Taking the stairs two-by-two with an untasted Pop-Tart still in my mouth, I shoved through the glass doors to a beautiful fall day outside my rundown apartment building. It was the best I could afford and much more preferable to the ‘suite’ my parents had set up in the basement while I attended college.
I’d wanted to go away for college and experience everything on offer, but they wouldn’t hear of it. The term helicopter parenting could have been created with them in mind. They were determined to keep watch over their precious little girl, which was part of why I was still a virgin at nineteen. That, and the fact I was a nerd.
I loved facts, particularly math. I’d wanted to study math, but Dad wouldn’t allow it, decreeing that math was a man’s discipline. It wasn’t sexism per se. It was more that he didn’t want me surrounded by hot, young guys. As if all math nerds looked like the two Brians, Cox and Greene, both of whom I had posters of on my bedroom wall through high school. When other girls had Bieber, I had the Brians.
Following my dad’s wishes, I found something more ‘girly’ to do; I took journalism focusing on business and finance. The degree just said B.Jounro, so he was none the wiser. He was just happy and proud that hi
s little princess had graduated with honors.
One drawback to being an only child, let alone the only daughter, was that my parents refused to let me drive. Now that I was free, I would learn and get my license, but, for now, I took the bus to get where I had to go.
Over the years, I’d learned to love public transport. Mom and Dad didn’t mind paying for that because they considered buses far safer than cars, and it could be a math kid’s dream trying to figure out the exact schedules, which I did. I often knew them better than the drivers themselves. At least, that was how it used to be before I moved to Brooklyn.
My parents hadn’t been happy when I said I was moving, but they couldn’t stop me since I was an adult. While they didn’t give me their blessing, they didn’t stand in my way either. My grandmother had left me enough money to help cover rent and living expenses for quite some time.
Crap. I’d missed the bus. Making my way to the vacated bench, I tried to calm my mind. It couldn’t be that long before another one came along.
Time was a funny thing. It seemed to fly when you were enjoying yourself and ground to a near halt when under stress. It was only twenty minutes according to my watch but felt longer. It was my first day, and I’d wanted to get in super early. I had only one chance to make an initial impression. I knew from hard experience that the first impression could last forever.
I was in such a hurry to get to the office I forgot to change my shoes. Opting for an empty elevator instead of the stairs, which would have been faster, I swapped over. When the elevator doors opened, I looked put-together and professional as I strode up to the reception counter, hoping I appeared a lot more stable than I felt.
“Shit,” the woman behind the reception desk muttered.
“What?” I inquired, despite myself.
Without a word, she came steaming toward me. Taking me by the hand, she led me to a small office beside the copy room.
“I’m Charli,” I tried.
“I know,” she said, glancing all around. “Sorry about that, I just didn’t want him to see you when he arrives.”
“Who?” I asked innocently.
“Mr. McInnes.”
“Oh.” My forehead furrowed. “Why don’t you want him to see me?”
“He’s wonderful at what he does and not vindictive in any way. He can just be a bit intense when he isn’t happy. And at the moment, he’s super pissed. He cycles to the office every day and was cut off more than a few times this morning. People are in a panic over the pandemic and are treating everyone as the enemy.”
Great. Exactly what I needed, a pissed-off boss.
I had heard of bosses being total assholes, shouting at their assistants, and even throwing things. I was mentally prepared for that, but what she was saying sounded almost sinister.
“So you know who I am?”
“I do.” She nodded, seeming to relax a little. “I reviewed your application and had you fully vetted. We had about a million girls wanting the job. Vetting them all fell to lucky old me. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I love my work. There are just some particular pitfalls. Like with anything, I guess.”
“I don’t think I caught your name.”
“I didn’t give it. I’m Elsa,” she said, offering a hand, “and if you even think of singing ‘Let It Go’ I’ll slug you.”
“Never even occurred to me,” I confessed. But I wouldn’t confess that I had the urge to ask if she wanted to build a snowman.
“Good. You’re going to need friends around here. The publishing world can be a shark eat shark world.”
What did she mean by that? Was she saying she was my friend or could be? Or was it just a more general statement? That I would require allies if I was going to survive?
I sat in the little office as requested, waiting for my boss to summon me and wondering what the future might hold. Though nothing that flitted through my naive mind even approached what would shortly come to pass.
Chapter 2 - Max
The alarm sprang to life, unleashing the metal songs I had set up the night before. Darkest Black Metal from deepest Norway blasted from the speakers like demonic voices through a medium.
Lifting my head from my many-feathered pillows, I silenced the device and let out a pensive sigh. There was nothing wrong with the day in particular. It was life in general.
My thoughts turned as dark as the music. If the government didn’t get the virus under control and find a workable vaccine, the economy, and society as we knew it would fall apart.
The music continued to reverberate around the room, and my thoughts continued to whirl. After a few moments, I shook my head. There was too much important work ahead of me. I didn’t have time to get caught in an existential stupor.
Stiff-legged and stiff-cocked, I made my way to the bathroom, shedding my boxer shorts on the way. Basking in the freedom and my morning wood standing at full attention, I started my morning routine—showering and jerking off.
After drying, I sauntered back into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of shorts. The door to the closet that held all my toys caught my attention. It’d been way too long since I’d had someone to play with.
No one came close to catching my attention these days. None of the women I’d met or dated recently were true subs. They thought they were, but to them, following my orders only went as far as the bedroom. That and they saw the lifestyle as a fun role-playing game for one-night-only. I ached for someone who would follow my orders 24/7. Someone I could mold and train for life, but I doubted a woman like that existed.
In all areas of my life, I demanded organization and control—there was a place for everything, and everything had its place. The clothes in my wardrobe were labeled and organized by season and color.
Taking down a suit, an Italian, charcoal gray three-piece, I dressed, taking my time to make sure I looked immaculate. I’d learned early on that in my industry, appearances were vital.
I wasn’t born into money. I’d worked for every cent I earned. Growing up, we weren’t rich, but we didn’t struggle either. My parents did okay financially. My father was a sanitation worker, and my mother a teacher before she died when I was eight. A few years later, he married Elsa’s mom, who had stayed at home to raise us.
My stepsister Elsa was one of the few women in my immediate circle I didn’t have carnal knowledge of. Not that she wasn’t my type. Truth be told, she was, but she just wasn’t into me that way and vice versa.
In many ways, she was my backbone. She was the highest-paid office manager in Manhattan, and for the past few months, she’d taken over as my personal assistant—something she detested. I wasn’t an easy man to work for. I demanded perfection in all areas.
Finding an assistant who didn’t run screaming after a few weeks was proving difficult. I had been through six in the past year. Most had fine experience and references, but they’d all quit. They served their two weeks’ notice like it was a prison sentence before disappearing without a trace.
It was hard not to feel rejected, especially after the third or fourth time. Something about me always scared them away, but I was hard-pressed to imagine what it could be. After the fifth one resigned, I had asked Elsa, but she just suggested that I ‘tone it down a bit.’
***
After breakfast, I lifted my custom-made bike from its rack in the hallway, threw my backpack on, and pushed off in the general direction of downtown. Cycling to work gave me time to clear my head and started the day off on the right foot, as it were.
The sun was barely up, and the city still slept. At dawn, Manhattan was the most serene city in the world, but I ached to spend more time in Montauk at my private beach house—perhaps this weekend. The land cost twice as much as the house itself. The latter of which I had custom-built from the ground up. It was a quirk of my perfectionism that I needed to oversee every aspect where possible.
The rest I assigned to trusted and talented managers like Elsa.
***
The rock of
my business and my life was there when I arrived at the office on the fifteenth floor. Many people wondered why I’d chosen a small, windowless office to work in when the penthouse offered a stunning view of the city. I didn’t like distractions, and windows overlooking the city meant I’d never get anything achieved.
“You’re alive,” Elsa said, taking my bike.
I frowned. “No thanks to the sanitation trucks trying to mow me down.” I took my tie from my backpack.
Elsa took it from me and draped it around my neck. Her hands were practiced and gentle as she smiled.
“One of these days, you’ll learn how to do this for yourself.”
I grinned. “Why would I when you can do it for me?”
Necktie knots never were and never would be my forte. I was eighteen before I had to wear a tie for the first time, but I never truly took to them.
“Is my new assistant here?” I asked.
“She is.” A look of concern flickered across her face.
“That bad?”
“She’s meeker than I expected.”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Another one who won’t last the week.”
“That depends on you.”
“What was her name again? I know you told me, but I’ve forgotten.”
“Charlotte Merrick,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Charli for short. She’s nineteen and—”
“She’s a student?” I stopped myself from groaning. The last thing I needed was a bratty, wet behind the ears zoomer.
“If you’d let me finish. She’s freshly graduated from NYU. Top marks in her class and a head for math like I’ve never seen.”
“I’m not sure—”
She held up her hand. “Trust me on this. I have a feeling.”
