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On Business and Pleasure

But mostly pleasure… an erotic interlude.

The door is ajar and I push through slowly, unsure for a second if I should have knocked. He looks up from his desk. He has been expecting me of course, sending me a text saying he could see me earlier than organized.

‘Waiting for you’ — was all he sent.

I almost ran, after parking my car, not wanting to waste any of the extra time I would have with him.

That’s the effect he has on me. It’s only our fourth time meeting like this, and he already makes me feel all giggly like a schoolgirl. A mess of fluttery excitement. Except I don’t remember feeling quite this way. Not before him.

I don’t know if the anticipation affects him as it does me. What I do know is that when I sit down, he stares at me with an intensity I’ve never experienced. His legs jiggle when he talks like he can’t contain his energy, his lust, like he is ready to pounce. The effect of being near him is both intoxicating and disconcerting.

It’s not discussed, but despite the brevity of our acquaintance, I can’t help but feel the energy between us is unique for him too.

“Hello,” he says.

He stands to meet me, slipping a hand behind my neck and pulling me into a kiss in one fluid movement. We part, and I’m left breathless for a second.

“Hello,” I whisper.

He looks me up and down, taking in my business-like attire. One hand already trailing down my neck to play with my full cleavage, unbuttoning my shirt, kissing me again as he realizes that I am braless.

“I thought I was here to discuss business.. things…today…”

I trail off as his hand slips inside my top to cup my breast, lifting his thumb to catch and pinch my nipple. He kisses me again, as his other hand moves lower to lift my skirt, checking if I am as nude below.

Slipping his fingers between my already wet lips to tickle my clit, he murmurs in my ear, “Your outfit doesn’t say business to me…”

“Well… You told me no underwear…”

“And so I did. I’m glad you listened.” He chuckles as he unzips my pencil skirt, slipping it to the ground. Deliciously he drags his fingers back up the inside of my thigh and hooking one digit inside me, he forces me closer to him.

“Look at how wet you are already!” he growls in my ear. “ Have you been thinking about me?”

“Yesss,” I breathe. Always.

Emboldened, I begin to pull up his shirt, desperate to touch the skin on his chest, to kiss it. Catching both my wrists and pinning them behind me, he proceeds to kiss and bite his way down my neck. The nips of his teeth are sharp, and I flinch away from him, overwhelmed, but he holds my hands tight.

“Don’t move,” he says through biting teeth, breathing the words against my neck.

I shiver, but I obey.

The graze of his teeth, the way he is breathing, growling, biting, sucking — I feel devoured by him. Brutally, he latches onto my nipple, biting hard and pulling even as I squirm, making it worse. I cry out.

“I said don’t move.”

He releases me, opening my shirt to expose both breasts. He looks at me sternly, “I’ll have to teach you to listen.”

“I’m sorry.”

He takes a step back. “I want you to count to six.”

I don’t want to; he scares me a little and I am torn between wanting his embrace and wanting to run.

“I… I said I’m sorry…”

“Count!”

“… One”

He slaps both breasts hard and fast, immediately taking my breath away. I bring my hands up instinctively, but he smacks them down too.

“No… Now start again”

“One… Two… Three…”

The shock of each slap is all-encompassing, waves of pain, both delicious and hated, running through me.

“Four… Five…” My voice quavers

He isn’t showing any mercy; the slaps get harder. The edges of my vision are blurry and I cry out, my hands rising, but I stop myself.

“Six.” I hiss the word at him as the last blow falls, and he smiles wickedly. Leaning in to gently suck each reddened nipple, the tenderness and heat of his mouth sending a pleasure-pain rush through my whole body.

He whispers that I am too soft and need toughening up, a smile in his voice. I try to push him away and he laughs, but there is a warning in his eyes to be careful.

“Kneel. Legs apart,” he orders quietly.

He pulls off my top now, leaving me naked, and proceeds to blindfold me.

“And because you can’t control those hands of yours…” He brings my arms behind my back and binds them at the elbow and wrist. My back now arched, and I am overly conscious of my throbbing breasts sticking out, exposed.

There is silence as he steps back to admire his handiwork. I can feel his gaze on me and I wish I could slow my breathing to something less like panting. With my sight gone, I am hyper-aware of my other senses. My breasts stinging and sensitive to the cool air drifting through the open window. The ache of longing in my belly. The metallic taste of anticipation on my tongue. The wetness between my legs.

He moves closer, circling me. Fingers drag along the back of my neck, across my collar bone, and back again. I try to lean into his touch, only for him to remove contact altogether.

I have the urge to plead with him then, feeling as though the contact is a lifeline to him, a lifeline removed. Instead, I bite my tongue, letting my pride get the better of me.

A brutal hard pinch to my nipple punishes me for my stubbornness. I cry out, and he is there, his fingers dig harder into flesh, twisting, and for a second I am bucking with the pain. With his other hand he winds his fingers through my hair, pulling my head back to keep me still, and I try desperately to remember to breathe.

Releasing me, his hand moves down to play with my clitoris, kneeling in front of me, so close, but I can’t touch him, taste him, he won’t allow it. Pleasure replaces the pain, tingling through my body, and I moan as it flows through me. He presses harder, faster, and sensations build as I start to peak, already so turned on by him.

Again he takes his hands away and pulls back.

“Not yet.”

This time I can’t sense where he is in the room. After the overwhelming rush of him, my whole body is singing with want.

“Please,” I whisper, wanting him more than I dared voice. He ignores me.

A sob catches in my throat, “I.. I don’t know what you want from me?”

Confused, emotion and sensations making me question everything. He has been meaner than last time.

“Submit… completely,” he whispers, behind me now, his fingers tracing the triangle in my lower back, down, up and around.

“I don’t know what that means….” My breath is rasping, uncontrolled.

His fingers dip lower, slipping expertly inside one entry, then the next.

“It means I want all of you. I want to be able to do whatever I want to do, and you will accept it, be what I envisage, because deep down….” and he brings his mouth close to my ear whispering and biting… “it is what you want also…”

I shudder as he presses deeper, leaving me panting, breathless.

“Now.. this might hurt..” he growls, running his hands up my torso.

He pulls one tortured nipple out and clamps a clothes peg on it, wiggling it a little to ensure it is fastened, and I cry out. Before I get a chance to gather my thoughts again, he has ensnared the other and clamped it as well.

They are on tight, and over the already tender flesh, every sensation has escalated. I am no longer completely in my mind, a subtle shift, bringing with it feelings of euphoria. I sigh as the sharp bite of my clamped nipples settles into a deep throbbing.

I hear him undress then feel the silky smooth head of his penis brush across my lips, and I stick my tongue out to taste him.

“Do you like my cock in your mouth?”

“Yesss,” I try to lean forward, wanting him, any part of him.

With his hands on the back of my head, he surprises me by pushing his whole length into my mouth. He is long and thick and I immediately want to gag as he pushes to the back of my throat, holding me there.

“I’ve been wanting to bruise that mouth with my cock for some time.” His voice drops to a whisper, “Not just let you suck it, but grab you by the hair and fuck your face hard, and fast.”

He starts to move in me, and I manage to breathe between, struggling to take him, to pleasure him. I swirl my tongue around his shaft, wanting more than anything to please and excite him. Such erotic feelings of submission, only discovered in myself, when I met him.

His fingers tighten in my hair and he thrusts faster, deeper into my throat, pushing until I start to gag. I am trying so hard to repress the urge, to be good for him, tears streaming down my cheeks.

He pauses to remove the blindfold, and through tears, I look up to see he is smiling at me. I realize he likes making me feel awkward and uncomfortable, that this is part of the play. All so new to me.

“Yes.. I’m watching.” He pushes himself back into my mouth, “Watching as you take all of me.”

He thrusts hard again and again, his gaze intense, and I do my best to hold open my throat to him, until my mouth is sore, bruised, just as he wanted.

He is gentle as he wipes the tears from my face.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice husky. “Now stand for me”

I’m a little shaky, so it takes me a second to get to my feet, but he quickly gets my attention with a sharp slap on my arse.

“Open your legs.”

I part my legs.

“Wider!” Another slap.

His fingers rub over my clit, playing with me, back and forth.

“Now don’t you dare cum until I say,” he growls in my ear.

After already being so close, it doesn’t take long before I feel the build of an orgasm, his fingers rubbing faster and harder. The thumb of his free hand presses gently but insistently into my arse, his fingers invading my pussy. Slowly he starts fucking me with his hand, pressed into both places. His exploration makes me feel more exposed and more helpless than I already did, adding to my excitement.

“Please,” I cry as the sensation becomes too much to bear.

“Please what?”

“Please Sir,” I groan, pushing myself against him

I’m fighting to maintain the control, trying not to go over the edge, hanging on that precipice even though he is pushing me further. Waiting for his permission… the desperation of it.

“I can’t … Please sir!” I beg, all my pride gone.

“Now…” he whispers, his breath on my ear.

At his word, my climax hits me hard and I cry out, shaking, my body collapsing into itself. He catches me with strong arms, holding me tight as I shudder and groan against him.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmurs in my ear, as the shudders start to ease.

He pushes me chest down onto his desk, my arse in the air, and the pegs on my nipples painfully twisted, wedged between my flesh and hard cold timber.

With a firm hand holding bound hands, he uses his foot to kick my legs further apart, and immediately I feel his cock pressing against my pussy. He grabs hold of my hip, and the full length of him slides in hard.

“Oh, you are so wet!”

Ruthlessly, he starts to fuck me, and with every stroke his hard fat cock fills me completely. Faster, every slap into my flesh sending ripples of pleasure to meet the throbbing pain of my nipples. Each stroke sending a dizzying rush of sensation. Within minutes I am peaking again, and this time I orgasm, crying out as I fall over that edge.

He immediately pulls out and slaps me hard on my thigh.

“I told you not to cum without asking.”

As punishment, he re-positions himself at my arse, pressing into that tighter place, his cock slippery wet with my juices.

He slides in slow. I cry, a little scared — unaccustomed to it, but he whispers reassurance, along with a firm reminder of who I belong to. I can feel every single inch of him as he slowly stretches me. It hurts, this easing in, this pressure, but as much as I would like to deny it, it also feels incredibly good.

I feel like I might burst, this feeling of being taken by him sensory overload, each slow and deliberate stretching thrust. I take a big breath, and with a sigh I give in to it all.

He senses my release as I submit, and he whispers “yes”, beginning to move faster inside me as my body relaxes around him.

Rippling in a delicious pain and mounting pleasure, accepting finally my desire to be completely annihilated by him. Like throwing myself in front of a train, I whisper,

“Harder”

He exhales with a groan, and taking my hips in both hands he starts to pound into me faster than I thought possible. I am crying out, reaching towards a different kind of climax, begging him to cum with me, as he slams into me, over and over. Animalistic now, he is grabbing at both my breasts, and I gasp loudly as he pulls the pegs off with a sharp excruciating tug.

At my cry, I feel him pulse deep inside me, filling me up but still fucking me, his fingers digging into my skin. His final hard, deep thrusts pushing me over the edge, my body losing control in shaking orgasmic convulsion.

He is gentle as he cleans me up, dressing me, fixing the mess he has made of my hair, softly wiping the mascara smeared beneath my eyes. Gentle little aftercare things, a squeeze of my hand, a hug, a kiss on my forehead. I am almost swooning. He smiles affectionately as he settles me into the chair on the other side of his desk. Sitting across from me, he pours me some water.

“So..” and I can tell he wants to laugh “Did you bring all the paperwork I asked you for….”

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