As for Price, he stayed rock hard between my lips. Sometimes he touched my hair, a silent signal that I was doing it right. If I wasn’t, he would have let me know that too. I wanted to do it right, if this was really his first under-the-desk blowjob. I wanted it to be memorable, so any that came after me would pale in comparison. I used all the tricks and titillations I’d developed in my escort days, all the techniques he didn’t allow me to use when he was in control. Eventually the typing ceased. His legs trembled where I leaned on them.
“You fucking slut,” I heard him whisper. A moment later he spurted into my mouth. I swallowed the cum as fast as I could, fearful of getting anything on his pants. Since we’d returned from Oslo, I’d become reacquainted with the sting of his whips and belts. He kept an entire selection of them at my apartment, and I knew he’d punish me later even if he couldn’t do it now. I sucked until he was dry, until he pushed me away with a groan.
“Enough,” he said. “Overachiever. I need to put that on your evaluation somewhere.”
I lay my head against his lap as his breathing returned to normal. I was horny now, my pussy hot and untouched. I wanted to touch it.
“Please, may I…?”
“No. No sex in the office, remember?”
He made me scoot back so he could tuck his cock away and refasten his pants. I watched in disappointment.
“That’s not fair,” I said. “You got sex. Why can’t I have sex?”
He looked down at me as I trembled on my knees. He’d been attempting to teach me about submission, about giving myself over to his will, but the lessons were hard.
“We have sex when I want, not when you want,” he said. “Remember? I’m the Dominant in this relationship, you’re the slut toy. Now go back to your desk and do some work.”
I frowned. I may have actually pouted as I pulled up my panties and rearranged my skirt. When I reached to button my blouse, he stopped me with a sound.
I took a deep breath and returned to my seat, aware that anyone who came into the office would have an unobstructed view of my exposed bra. Having him as a client had been difficult. Having him as a boss and Dominant truly and magnificently sucked.
“Sometimes I hate our relationship,” I said. “I thought Dominants were supposed to be caring.”
“I care about you.”
“You care about making me miserable.”
He pointed to his laptop. “I haven’t sent your evaluation yet. You might want to watch what you say to me.”
“I can’t wait until this internship is over,” I muttered just loud enough for him to hear. It was a reckless lie that directly related to the frustrated horniness of my pussy.
“If you don’t stop sulking, I’ll give you something to sulk about, starshine.”
“Like what?” I sassed.
“Like a long and difficult lesson in surrender.” He held up a finger when I opened my mouth to protest. “My control and your submission is the whole basis of our dynamic. If you’re going to poke me and act like a fucking brat—”
“Maybe I’m acting like a fucking brat because I don’t enjoy our dynamic.”
He dismissed my angry words with a flick of his wrist. “Tell me something, Chere. How do you feel after our scenes? At the end, when I’m holding you and soothing you, and telling you it’s over? How do you feel?”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to answer.
“Do you feel calm? Do you feel serene, like everything’s perfect in the world?”
That was exactly how I felt, although I wasn’t in the mood to admit it. I pulled my open blouse together and leaned over my laptop.
“No answer,” he said with a sniff. “It figures. Open your fucking blouse. Let me see your tits.”
I looked up at him, holding the sides more tightly together. He was across the office in an instant, stalking toward me with all his force and heat. He reached down and yanked the two sides of my blouse apart, so all the buttons came open. One of them popped off and rolled across the carpet.
“Stop,” I said, pushing his hands away.
“Show them to me!”
I swallowed and looked up into his ice blue gaze. I hated him. No, I wanted him. Why did this aggressive, obnoxious behavior turn me on? I leaned back and let him look at my breasts.
“Take them out. Show them to me.”
I started to fold down the cups of my bra.
“No, wait.” He grabbed a pair of scissors off my desk.
“What are you doing?”
“Sit still, or I’ll cut something that shouldn’t be cut.”
I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as he cut two nipple-sized circles from my lacy bra cups. He pinched each nipple, tugging at them through the holes in my bra. “What I wouldn’t give for a pair of clamps, bad girl.” He thought a moment, then snapped his fingers and went to his desk. He returned with a pair of small silver paper clips. I shook my head, tried to close my blouse again.