0 comments/ 31174 views/ 16 favorites The Pleasure Principle By: Kellin I'm a believer in the idea that if things happen a certain way, there's a reason and you should just go with it. Say a girlfriend cheats on you... that's pretty shitty, right? Well, say she doesn't cheat, maybe you two get married and she becomes this nagging bitch who drinks and has a shit career. The point is, there's always a silver lining. I don't believe in soul-mates, fate or any of that crap; my philosophy is much, much simpler. You only have one shot at life, so why waste it? Forge your own path, taking every opportunity that you want, letting lifes trials bounce off you. It was the middle of December and Dean, a school friend I had known for over a decade, was throwing a Vegas-themed birthday party for a friend of ours. He insisted we all dress up in our classiest outfits, so being a suit guy, I threw on a tailored grey Hugo Boss suit and headed over. When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the two girls greeting me at the door. Both tall, one blonde and one brunette, both in two inch heels, both with decent sized tits. Their outfit, if you could call it that, consisted of a tiny silver tube top that barely covered their breasts and an equally short matching skirt that covered their ass and not much else. I'll be honest, the obvious stripper look clued me in that it was a costume to match the theme. "Can I take your coat?" asked the blonde, flashing her brilliant white teeth at me. I chuckled as I very openly eyed her from head to toe. I handed her my jacket and brushed her hand with mine. "Let me guess..." I began, taking a moment to examine every inch of her body. "Vegas strippers?" The brunette reached over and placed a set of beads around my neck, smiling at me. "I'm Cinnamon," she replied and gestured to her blonde friend. "This is Kandy. We'll be your bartenders and entertainment for the evening!" They were both fairly bubbly and quite obviously a couple years younger than the rest of us. Something about the blonde just wouldn't let me move on from her, so I kept my gaze on her. She started blushing a bit and I raised an eyebrow, but just as the question was forming on my lips, she cut me off. "Selena, Deans sister. You'd have met me a few years ago when we were both pretty young." My jaw dropped, as cute innocent Selena was here dressed in almost nothing and I was gawking at her. She giggled and I couldn't help but smile, sizing her up. 'Flirtatious, probably single, not entirely sure I care either way.' I thought to myself. 'Shit, why not swing for it?' "Well Selena, you definitely grew up," I winked at her. "You went from a cute little girl to a tall, slim and sexy woman. I think I'm going to enjoy having you serve me!" The brunette, Cinnamon, was glancing between us, clearly embarassed or uneasy, when a guy I didn't recognize walked up behind her. His hands came around and groped her tits as he said, "Hey stripper, where's that rum and coke I asked for?" My first reaction was to hit the guy right between the eyes, when I saw Cinnamon push him off and she grunted. "Ugh, at least call me Cinnamon, you ass. Enjoy it while you can, cause tomorrow, I'm back to being YOUR boss!" They shared a quick kiss before she was pushing him off, she glanced at me then quickly hurried off to the kitchen. "Dating, I assume?" I asked Selena. We watched Cinnamon storming off to the kitchen, bickering with her man. Selena laughed, guiding me towards the kitchen. "Yeah... you could say that. I'm not sure why they're together, really..." she commented. "I feel like they could both do better, you know?" I nodded, having a hunch at what she was alluding to. I was trailing behind Selena, thoroughly enjoying the view of her bare, long legs and her perfect, round ass. She turned around and I assumed she caught me staring as she had a smirk plastered on her face. "What about you?" I asked, drawing attention away from my obvious staring. "Any boyfriends?" She scoffed, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Now just what kind of woman do you think I am?" I glanced down at her outfit and her gaze followed mine. I sort of shrugged a bit, and her smile turned into a giggle. "Okay, fair enough, I had that coming. In all seriousness, no boyfriend. Just broke up last week, in fact, because he was a lying, cheating scum bag!" I gave her a sad smile, but not wanting to settle on the negativity, looked around quickly. The kitchen was filled with a variety of cups ranging from empty to filled with various types of alcohol. On the counter nearest to us, I spotted shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Selena raised an eyebrow at me and I grinned at her, then quickly poured two shots full of tequila. Handing her one, I toasted, "To cheating scum bags! Men every where thank you for not holding on to your amazing girlfriends!" She blushed, laughing, but her eyes were locked with mine and I could see the playful look on her face. Feeling particularily confident, I clinked my glass with hers and we downed our tequila. The night progressed like all parties do: every one getting so completely hammered that they make bad decisions, say stupid things and laugh about it all. I watched Cinnamon, whose name I later found out was Sam, give the birthday girl a lap-dance. Her and I shared a bit of banter, but otherwise all my attention was on Selena. I danced, drank, laughed and nearly fell down a flight of stairs with her, but the night was nearing it's end. I made a few subtle passes at her as the night wore on, but Selena was resilient. I never flat out asked her to come home with me, but she knew I was interested and she wouldn't give in. I think part of her wanted to, but she was still wounded and vulnerable. I resorted to just friendly chatter with her, as she was still an extremely intriguing woman to talk to. As we were talking, Selena's friend Aubrey approached us. "Hey Leena, we're heading to McDonald's. You coming?" asked Aubrey. I smiled at her, turning my head to Selena. She locked her eyes with mine and replied, "Yeah, I think I will. Meet you outside in a minute?" Aubrey nodded and went to go wrangle up the rest of their entourage. Selena glanced around to see if any one was watching, then moved in close to me and whispered, "Stick around, Kyle, I'll be back soon. Maybe I'll show you how good of a stripper I really am...?" She pulled away, her eyes sparkling with mischief and before I could return with any kind of witty banter, she kissed me full on the lips. Her tongue pushed past my lips, jockeying for position with mine as I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into me. I don't know how long we kissed for... five seconds? Fifteen? Maybe thirty? Aubrey finally returned, pulling Selena off of me. She had an exasperated look on her face, her arms on her hips. I glanced at Selena and we both grinned, not really sure what to say. I straightened my shirt and tie then, looking at Aubrey, said, "Alright, you can have her back, but I think Selena owes me a dance still!" She winked at me and took off behind Aubrey through the door. I had a permanent grin plastered on my face, happily drunk and enjoying the prospect of a private strip show when Selena returned. I went back to the party, socializing and just having a good time, patiently waiting for Selena to return. Eventually, Selena's stripper friend, Sam, caught up with me and dragged me over to the beer pong table. "Come on Kyle! Two-on-two, you and me?" she shouted over the music, giggling. I eyed our competition, two beefy guys I had never met, before grabbing a six-pack and filling our cups. "Let's do it, it'll be fun to see these guys lose to a girl!" I joked and we all laughed. As is always the case, our beer pong match drew a good crowd as every one piled around the table to watch, cheering us on. I had the advantage since I was paired with a "stripper", though she had an outstanding ass and she was showing plenty of cleavage. She lined up to shoot first, standing in front of me and pushing her ass against my crotch as she bent over, then tossed the ball. I think every guy in the room was too busy staring at her chest, including our competition, as their reaction to her shot was a bit delayed. The crowd cheered as she sank it, making our opponents take a drink. She sunk the ball and grinded into me a bit as every one was focused on the other side of the table. She slid to the side, catching my eye and giving me a little grin, as the other guy threw the ball. It hit off the table, bounced off the rim of a cup and shot away from the table. Our game continued back and forth, till finally we had 3 cups to their 1. Sam lined her shot up, as she always did, with her ass pressed firmly into my crotch, then threw the ball. It bounced, rimmed a cup and we watched it spin around the edge of the cup like it was trapped in a whirlpool. The house rules stated if a ball was spinning inside of a cup, the defenders could blow on it to try and get it out. Our competition, however, had their jaws dropped and their eyes glued to Sam. I glanced over her shoulder, and could just barely see the edge of a pink nipple potruding as she lowered her top just a bit. The cheers from the crowd mixed with the laughter as the guys across from us were crying foul, claiming we cheated. Of course, nobody took them seriously and every one went back to the partying, waiting for another team to step up to challenge us. I wrapped my arms around Sam from behind, lifting her up in celebration. "We won! I suppose I should thank you for your skills, hm? Even if you did cheat just a bit..." I teased, setting her back down on her feet. She whipped around to look at me, leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "I think you're just upset that you didn't get to see them." I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. She was playing a dangerous game, trying to provoke me while she had a boyfriend. I wasn't the type of guy to typically back down from a challenge and I believed that if a girl chose to cheat, that was her decision, not my fault. "Of course!" I replied, not letting her win. "Every guy in this room wanted to tear both you and Selena's clothes off since the moment they walked in." I squeezed her ass, enjoying the squeak she made, then maneuvered through the crowd to get some more beer from the kitchen. She trailed behind me, apparently not satisfied with letting me have the last say. Reaching down to grab a beer from the bucket on the floor, I felt hands wrap around my neck and then a small person jump on my back. "Sam, you really don't want to test me," I said, chuckling. I tried to shake her off but she held on tight. I carried her, with my beer, across the house and down the hall to where I saw an open door. I stumbled into the room, the beer taking it's toll on me as Sam was laughing hysterically. She was fairly drunk, so when I finally flipped her off my back onto the bed, she could do little to stop me. Her eyes had a blazing look of determination, then she hooked her bare legs around my waist and pulled me into her. I set my arms down, bracing myself for the fall, glancing down to see that her silver skirt has bunched around her waist. Now, skirts weren't meant for this kind of bending, so as her legs were spread wide to wrap around me, that left me a clear view at her red lace underwear. "Red? I figured you to be a pink kind of a girl..." I teased, drawing a light slap across the cheek. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make me laugh. I looked her in the eye and saw that her playful smile, the one she had worn all night, had been replaced by a look of determination. I wasn't naive, I knew what that look meant. "Sam... I thought you had a boyfriend? In fact," I mused, "isn't he just twenty or so feet away from us?" I kissed her neck, running my hands up and down her sides then trailing my fingers lightly across her hips. She inhaled deeply, eyes closing shut, as she enjoyed the way I felt her up. "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him..." she whispered, her eyes closed. I chuckled again, deeply amused with this girl. I assumed they were having problems, otherwise why would she be looking for a hook-up? I wasn't one to judge and even though I wanted her friend, there was no reason I couldn't have both of the sexy bartenders in the same night. I pulled my hands off her and stood up, shutting and locking the bedroom door. I took my vest and dress shirt off, revealing my bare chest. She had peeled off her small top, revealing those mouth watering little pink nipples that I caught a glimpse of earlier. She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight in front of her, clearly impressed. I wasn't a male model, but I guess it was nicer than what she was used to. She ran her hands all over my abs and chest, feeling the muscles, no doubt getting herself worked up. I finally unzipped my dress pants, letting my boxers fall to the ground with them. She reached down and wrapped her small fingers around my soft cock, slowly stroking it. "Jesus, Kyle..." she moaned. Chuckling, I took one of her nipples between my finger and thumb. I gave it a light pinch and she moaned, squeezing my cock. Blood rushed to it and I hardened almost instantly, growing further. She loosened her grip as she tried to wrap her fingers around my cock. Gasping, she looked up at me and whispered, "You're definitely bigger than I'm used to..." Sensing her nervousness, I realized she might not be such a big slut after all. Either that or she was just used to small guys, as I was fairly thick but just a bit over six-and-a-half inches long. I don't have the longest or thickest cock, but I would say its somewhere between average and a little bit bigger than average. "Please don't tell my boyfriend?" she whispered, her eyes locked with mine. She had a fiery, wild look in her eye and I knew right then that we would be here for a long time. She sank to her knees, so that my hardening cock was right in front of her face, as she continued to slowly stroke me. The music playing all throughout the house was a good electronic beat, loud enough to drown out most noises. She kissed the tip, smirking up at me as she grabbed the base of my cock firmly. I moaned involuntarily as she took the head in, lightly sucking on it as she stroked the shaft. She pulled me out of her mouth, giggling while I moaned quietly, and then she started lapping at my cock like it was an ice-cream cone on a hot summer day. She licked all the way up from the base to the tip, circling her tongue around me, driving me wild with desire. Sam slurped my cock, taking the whole length down her throat noisily. She was so damn good at sucking cock, she completely distracted me from the reason I sought her out to begin with. She pulled me all the way out of her mouth, then began sucking on the tip, stroking my cock with her soft, little hands. She was so skilled, I couldn't do much other than completely give in to her. I glanced down her body and saw her ass in the air, one hand was pinching her nipples while the other was stroking my length. Giving in to the lust, I took a deep breath before grabbing the back of her head and holding her against my balls. I could tell she was caught by surprise because she let out a little moan, and her body jolted forward. I reached down with my long arms, grasping her ass. She moaned again, her ass rising higher to give me better access. The lust was swirling through me like a storm; I spanked Sam's tight, little ass and she moaned even louder onto my cock, thrusting the whole length in and out of her mouth so fast. I reached further down, beneath her skirt that barely covered her ass cheeks, and slowly stroked her already wet folds. She pulled me all the way out of her mouth, gripping my hard cock in her hand as I brushed her clit with my fingers. "Mmmmm fuck," she muttered, her eyes fluttering shut, savouring the feel of it before she realized what she was doing. Her eyes snapped open and she locked them with mine. "This wasn't part of the deal..." she whispered as she continued to jerk me off. Chuckling to myself, I realized she might have a conscience after all. 'Maybe she draws the line at blowjobs?' "Suck my cock like the naughty little slut that you are!" I whispered in her ear, sliding two fingers knuckle-deep inside of her. I felt Sam shiver as she let out a loud moan, but the angle wasn't good enough for her. She adjusted her position, climbing onto the bed side-ways, my cock right in front of her mouth. She immediately went back to work and the moment my fingers brushed against her wet hole, she sank herself on them. Her moan vibrated against my cock, making me grab her ponytail so I could hold her down on my throbbing member. In hindsight, we were lucky the music was blaring throughout the house, because with all the noise we were making, someone would definitely have heard us otherwise. "You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you Sam?" I asked, savouring the feel of her warm mouth on me. "Mmmhmmm..." came her muffled moan from around my thick cock. She was sucking it obediently, losing herself in our moment of wanton lust. "Where do you want my cum you bad, bad girl?" I asked, fingering her while using my thumb to rub her clit. She pulled her head off my cock, trying to look at me as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She squeezed me, moaning, so I sped up my pace. I was finger fucking this 18-year-old little slut and she was going to cum hard for me. "Fill my mouth, cum in my mouth, watch your naughty slut take your cum!" she moaned, completely lost in the moment. My smirk must have been a mile wide, but in her defense, it was one of the hottest experiences of my life. I pulled her head back down onto my cock, and it took only a few seconds of sucking before I started to cum. My cock pulsed, shooting my load deep into Sam's mouth. She gagged as the first shot hit the back of her throat, then she began swallowing. I had never cum this hard before, or this much. Sam was slowly pulling my cock forward, letting the cum shoot onto her tongue. She was grinding so hard into my fingers, and the second she could taste my cum on her tongue, her body was rocked with her orgasm. She was moaning loudly, vibrating all along my cock, and I was moaning loud as well. I shot again and again into her mouth, each time sending a wave of pleasure through my body. As Sam's orgasm abated and she finished swallowing my cum, she pulled her mouth off. She bent down to lick up the drops she had missed, her small orgasm clearly not getting rid of her appetite. When she was done, she turned her gaze to me, intently staring at me. She was practically begging me to fuck her with her body language and I was more than happy to oblige. We were both fairly drunk, mind you, but that probably wasn't a big factor. I stood up, raking my eyes over her naked body, enjoying every detail. There's something so incredibly hot about fucking someone you just met, while there's a few dozen people just feet away from you. Gripping her legs, I spread them wide open, her eyes widening. "I... I have a boyfriend!" she whispered, offering a protest to no doubt appease her guilt. I flashed her a grin, and as I stripped the last of my clothes off, I kneeled in between her legs. Pulling her head next to mine, I whispered, "Yeah? Where was he when you swallowed my cum and came all over my fingers like the bad girl you are?" I latched onto her neck, ravaging her. "Ohhh my godddd..." she moaned, her nails digging into my back. The pain jolted through me, lighting me on fire with desire for her. I gripped her thigh hard and bit down on her neck, causing Sam to whimper and grind her body against mine. I pushed her down onto her back and, looking her straight in the eye, sank my cock inside of her. She was tight, I could tell it hurt by the look on her face. Being the cock hungry slut that she was, however, she got used to my girth pretty quickly and started riding it beneath me. The Pleasure Principle James is a cruel man— something I've been well aware of from the day he hired me. I've watched the pitiless way that he deals with unsatisfactory employees. Tears don't sway him. Even when he isn't angry, his smile is far too predatory to be endearing (although the truth is, it never fails to make me squirm). Power and confidence exude from every inch of his sturdy, lithe frame. I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame— I've always had a weakness for men with power, and it's gotten me into more trouble then I'd care to admit. There's just something about men who know how to get what they want that I can't resist. My entire life, I've been hyper-aware of my own sexually submissive nature. I like men who take control of situation because it removes some of the stress. For a long time, I was ashamed of my desire to submit. I viewed it as regressive to the feminist agenda, and rather old fashioned, but still... I couldn't seem to shake the desire. I've had fantasies about James from the very beginning. The firmness of his handshake was enough to make my heart race when we first met. The submissive part of me immediately recognized his dominance and I wondered if he could sense it too. There was definitely an intrigued gleam in his eyes. For the next couple months, I exceled in my new position; drawing the attention of my superiors who praised my work. I could tell that James was proud of me, but he remained distant, and that distance depressed me. One day, I'd wandered into his office while he'd been out, and noticed a picture open on his desktop. It was of a woman, half-naked and tied up, with bruises and welts visible on her exposed backside. Her mouth was open in a kind of hit-me-again drool, eyes half-closed with pleasure. I should have felt repulsed, but instead I found myself strongly intrigued. What did it feel like to be that woman, I wondered, to have another person be so firmly in control of your body and your pleasure? I wanted to know. In addition, knowing his dark and wicked tastes were compatible with my own really did a number on me. I couldn't suppress my desire; no matter how hard I tried, other men simply wouldn't do. He'd taken root inside me. James. He'd invaded my headspace, making regular appearances in my nighttime fantasies. James. The thought of his handshake did more for me than the thought of my first kiss. James. The man I desperately, desperately wanted to notice me. Infatuation was the only way to describe it. I tried subtle flirtation, and what some might call my feminine charms, but I couldn't seem to get the reaction I wanted from him. Several of my other coworkers did, however, begin to notice me. Sometimes their reactions bordered on harassment, but I always managed to shut them down. Say what you will, but I am not a pushover. But James... how to get him to notice me, to want me? It felt like high school all over again: the pining and the angst. I felt foolish. Finally, I decided to try going all in. The slutty secretary routine... It was a common fantasy for most men, and one I decided to try making into a reality. That night, I went home and dug through my modest wardrobe, searching for something that would do. For the most part, I dress fairly conservatively at work. After all, it is a professional setting. I'd wondered for a while if that was part of the problem. There were other girls who dressed far more immodestly than me, so naturally they got more attention. Maybe that was the trick. On the floor of my closet, I found a lovely red satin blouse that had been a gift from some miscellaneous aunt or another who'd bought it a size or two too small. Pair that with a little black skirt, stocking and my black stilettos and I looked like I was about to star in a porno. Perfect. My imagination ran wild with all the possibilities of the next day and I hardly managed to sleep. I dressed in the morning with more enthusiasm than I'd mustered in years, finding a spring in my wobbly, stilettoed step. I arrived at work a little early, seating myself neatly behind my desk, acutely aware of how tightly stretched the blouse was across my chest. I loosened another button, noting the splendid appearance of my cleavage. The skirt was riding up past the tops of my thigh-highs and I resisted the urge to pull it down. Punctual as ever, James strode into the office at exactly nine, stopping first to speak with Nicole, the receptionist. I fiddled with my shirt for a moment, and then tried to make my self look busy as he began to walk my way. Just as he crossed in front of my desk, I leaned forward and purred "Hello sir," looking up slyly at him through my eyelashes. My hand rested coyly on my exposed chest, trailing along the skin in a most suggestive manner. "Is there anything I can help you with today?" For a moment, I enjoyed the look of shock on his face, but my enjoyment quickly soured as his look transfigured to one of anger. He didn't return my greeting, but instead stormed off to his office and closed his door a little too loudly. I was stunned. My plan had gone completely wrong. I'd made him angry instead of pleasing him! For a second I wanted to throw up. Had I just ruined my only shot at winning his affections? For the rest of the day, I worked in abject misery, waiting for him to step out so that I could apologize and hopefully make amends. He didn't leave his office again that day. I grew increasingly worried as the day drew to a close. Had I caused some kind of irreparable damage? I didn't think that what I'd done had been too extreme, but maybe it had really upset him. I knew that he respected me as an employee— people said he always spoke highly of me— and maybe my display had damaged that respect. He didn't respond when I knocked his door, even though I knew he was in there, and by the end of the day, I was in such a state that I decided to barge in and apologize. I couldn't stand the thought of his displeasure. At five o'clock, as the rest of the office gathered their things, I gathered my courage. His door is unlocked. I open it without a knock, not giving him the chance to turn me away. He is facing the window when I enter, his slender, strong hands folded behind his back. I start to speak before he turns around, the apology pouring out of my mouth. As I'm speaking, I notice that his hand has tightened noticeably around his wrist, and his shoulders are shaking with— Anger? I can't be sure. "Sir—" I fumble, unsure of myself. "I just... I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I realize that it made you uncomfortable and I was wrong to do it. It was unprofessional and I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just thought..." "You just thought what, Sara?" His voice is sharp, and even feeling as badly as I do, I can't help but feel a thrill run through my body. God, the things I'd let him do to me! I mumble, embarrassed. "Louder." The command cuts through me. "I..." I take a deep, hesitant breath, "I thought that maybe you would finally notice me, sir. I've... Had feelings for you for a long time, and I thought maybe if I dressed like, you know... then maybe..." "I don't think you realize what you've done, Sara. I am not a good man to get involved with. The things that I want... You wouldn't like them. I've done my best to keep our relationship strictly professional, although I'll admit, you've made it very difficult." So he does want me! "Sir, I—" "Don't call me that," he interrupts. There is a tremor in his voice and I can see his control waning. I pace to his desk, so that I'm no more than a few feet away from him, and press my body against it, enjoying the hard press of the wood on my soft skin. "Sir" I make a point to say it "If I've done something to upset you... then shouldn't you punish me?" I see him stiffen. "You could even tie me up, just like the girl in that picture." He turns on me in an instant, and his hand connects with the side of my face with a stinging slap. "How did you know about that!" there is more rage in his voice than I've ever heard before. I'm stunned. "I— I—" "You were snooping!" he snarls. My hand is against my face, where he struck me. I should be terrified, or enraged. He had no right to hit me, but... I liked it. I like seeing him angry. "What else did you see?" His hands wrap around my wrists, pulling me toward him. I gasp. "Nothing that I didn't like." He drops my arms and I am disappointed. He steps quickly back and away, and I see that his face has gone blank. "I shouldn't have hit you. Shit." He massages his temple. "Sir," I push off the desk and move towards him. "No!" He commands, raising a hand to stop me. "Don't come near me. Can't you see I'm bad for you? I've hurt you." "What if I told you that was what I wanted?" the words tumble out of my mouth. "All my life, I've wanted someone like you. Someone who could fuck me the way that I needed to be fucked." "Damnit Sara, you're making this difficult." I can see that his resolve has almost cracked. I drop to my knees in front of him. "Please sir." He wrenches me back to my feet in an instant, pressing his mouth against mine with a violence that robs of my breath. His hands are rough on my flesh, feeling me through the fabric of my blouse. I am weak against his advances. Feeling the frantic staccato in my chest, he smirks against my lips, fully aware of his power over me. One hand winds into my long hair, and with sudden force, he yanks my head to the side, exposing the pale arc of my throat. I inhale sharply. At first his touch is gentle enough, just the press of his lips on my skin, but soon he becomes more insistent and I feel the sting of his teeth. "Ow!" For a moment, instinct kicks in and I try to push him off, but he's too strong for that. His grip on my arm and my hair is like iron. Rough and fast, I find myself flattened to the wall, his body hard against mine. I feel my knees get weak and buckle. "I'm going to fuck you," he whispers in my ear. "I'll take you how I want you, and for as long as I want you. Do you understand?" There isn't a bone in my body that won't consent to his abuse. "You're not a good man," I whisper. "I know," he whispers back, his lips trailing across my skin. "And I also know that's why you want me so badly. Good men are no fun." He bites me again, and this time I don't fight it, enjoying the sensation of his hard teeth on my soft, tender skin. One hand massages my throat, just hard enough to hurt. "Do you like to be told what to do?" I nod, half choked. "Good." `James releases me, and strides over to his brown leather office chair. Seated, he looks as sleek and polished as the cover of a business magazine. Comfortable, he rests his chin on one hand, and then twirls his other. "Spin around for me." I oblige, turning slowly, enjoying the heat of his gaze on my body. "Fucking perfect. Come over here now." I do, my steps quick and nervous. My skin still burns from the heat of his hands on me, and I want more. "I want you to bend yourself over my knees. I think it's time to punish you for your behavior today, Sara." "Yes sir." I settle myself across his lap, and my little black skirt rides up high, barely concealing the curve of my ass. I can already feel a slight bulge in his pants, and the thought of his hardening cock, combined with the feeling of his hand exploring my flesh makes me shiver deliciously. He pinches and squeezes, massaging my cheeks firmly. Occasionally, a fingertip grazes my pussy, feeling the growing dampness of my lace underwear. I buck against his hand, wanting him to be firmer with me, to touch more of my body. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on my backside and I squeal with surprise. I can feel him tense with pleasure at the wanton noise. He hits me again, harder, and the sound reaches me before the pain does. Three more smacks, and my flesh is burning hot and red. He pauses, running his fingers over my skin. "You have the most perfect ass..." He kneads into me with his fingertips. "I've wanted to put you over my knee and spank it for months." Just as the ache in my backside has begun to subside, he hits me again, so hard that I cry out in a combination of pain and pleasure. My hand squeezes the side of the desk, steadying myself. Again, he transfers from forceful to gentle, metering out the spanking with enough pleasurable touching to keep me aroused. His fingers stroke over the lacy fabric of my underwear, so gently that I'm quivering with anticipation, longing for him to touch me there in honest. I know that he senses my desire, just as I know that he is drawing this whole thing out just to frustrate me. I moan a little as his finger hits my swollen clitoris, sending a jolt through my body. As though set free by that little sound, his middle finger dives without warning into my soaking orifice, driving forward my pleasure. I squeeze myself around his hand, willing him to stay there, stroking my insides with his powerful hands, but to my dismay, he withdraws. With his slickened finger, he draws elaborate circles around my opening, taunting me with that closeness. All this teasing is getting me incredibly worked up. "You want me to fuck you, huh?" He purrs in my ear, and I nod enthusiastically, longing for his cock inside me. "Too bad," he growls. "Tonight all you get is this finger." He flicks my engorged clit. I groan with pent-up sexual energy and he laughs. "I want you to fuck yourself with my finger," he says, pressing the tip against my hot, aching pussy. I arch against that finger, forcing it in to the last knuckle, wishing it filled me up the way that I knew his cock would. I drive my self against it again and again, feeling him inside me. My breathing grows heavy and fast as he draws me close to orgasm without even moving. I imagine how turned on he must be by my desperate antics, and the thought of him receiving satisfaction is enough to tip me over the edge. I cum, feeling the shuddery waves of pleasure pulsate through my body, causing my toes to curl. He withdraws, and I hear him sucking the stickiness from his fingers. I try to nuzzle against him, but he begins to stand and I slide off onto the floor, too weak-kneed to stand up. "Time for you to go home, slut." He says, his voice and face blank. I look up, confused. I can see a hint of warring confusion and anger hiding around his sharp dark eyes. "It's after hours. You shouldn't still be here." He walks to the window, facing away from me much like he was when I arrived. I stand up, still wobbling, and adjust my skirt. My thighs are damp and slick, but I'll have to attend to that later. I'm almost out the door when his voice stops me. "To your left." I look. There is a single creamy white business card propped up on the small table. "Take it." I do. There is only an address, embossed in small gold letters. "Sir—?" He doesn't reply. I tuck it into my pocket and shut the door softly behind me. I'm hurt but intrigued. The question of the next step is already dancing in my brain.