The Boss

‘Tonight is the big wooing party. We bring in all the millionaires and billionaires and all those we want to bring into the fold. We woo them and wine them and dine them and try to convince them to let us play with their money.’

I nodded. Waiting.

‘I’d like you to attend with me.’

I blinked and stared. Brilliant.

‘I … um, I … of course.It’s my duty as your assistant to –’

‘As my date.’

Trevor leaned back against his desk and opened the button ofhis suit coat. I loved to watch him move that way – short, economical movements with no fluffery or wasted energy. He was a work of art. And he could make me come like I was dying. Brutal, wild, sweet – all the things orgasms were made to deliver.

‘Your date?’ I echoed. Flabbergasted. I had never in a million years dreamed it would ever go beyond fucking.

His smile said he knew that. Big grey eyes, as stormy as the weather in March, regarded me and my stomach tingled like I had swallowed a live electrical wire. My face was hot, my hands cold, my stomach and chest full of anxiety and, yes … excitement.

‘Yes, as my date. I think we’ve gotten to that point, don’t you?’

I could only nod dumbly. If I opened my mouth, something entirely mortifying would pop out, I was sure.

‘You do know what they think of us? Don’t you? You and your pointy shoes or your big black boots? You and your fucking phenomenal ass and ice-blue eyes? And me in my big hot-shot office giving you dick-tation.’

I blushed and studied my lap. I bit my lip and tried to breathe. The toe of that pointy shoe was swinging like a metronome.

‘Do you, Winona?’

I shook my head. ‘No, Sir.’

‘No, what?’

‘No, Trevor,’ I said.

The man was a paradox. Expecting – no, demanding – the exact opposite of what most dominant men demanded. He confused me and scared me and, oh, fuck, God, yes, he made me want him so badly all I could focus on was the thumping demand of my cunt.

‘They think you have me pussy-whipped. But not just figuratively, literally. They think you are the one wielding the whip, as it were. And I am the one asking for one more, Mistress.’ He winked and I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position for my poor, swollen, wanting nether bits.

‘I had no idea.’

He straightened his trouser leg. ‘Doesn’t matter. I don’t really give a shit what they think.’

‘The mark of a true dominant.’

‘But I find it amusing. I’d like to put a little trinket on you. So you remember when they all start flirting, and touching and joking … that you are mine. Do you approve?’

Again, I nodded mutely. Maybe I had a future career as a ventriloquist’s dummy.

‘But, you know, some studded dog collar or bondage nonsense would look really stupid with a lovely cocktail dress and delicate sensual shoes. It would also be abysmal on that neck of yours.’

Thank God. The thought of something that tight to my throat made me jangle with fear and anxiety. I had a thing about my throat and he knew it. It was one thing to let him grip me there – his hand imprisoning my jumping pulse – while he fucked me. It was another to ask me to wear something constricting for hours and hours and not freak out.

‘Thank you, Trevor.’

‘So this was the thing I thought would help us celebrate our first date. Also celebrating the fact that you’re mine now. You are mine now, aren’t you, Winona?’

‘Yes, Trevor,’ I breathed. All of me felt like I was trembling. Inside and out. I pictured him eating me out, I pictured him fucking me with his fingers, I pictured him trussing me up and making me say his name until I wept it.

‘Good girl. Property of Trevor Bennett. Come here.’

I went. I walked to him slowly until we were eye to eye and he kissed my hand once like a prince in a fairytale. ‘There she is,’ he murmured.

I stood like I was in the military. Back straight, legs locked, shaking like a motherfucker, but trying valiantly to hide it. He popped the big black velvet box and I waited, throat bared, as if for execution.

It was deceptive. Pretty and silver. Three jointed lengths of sterling silver with a Claddagh attached. The Irish symbol for friendship or love or marriage. It was gorgeous and bold and would go with anything at all.

But, when he held it up, my heart started to race. For, as pretty as it was, it was just as bad as the dog collar he’d dismissed. I could tell by its size that it would grip my throat with a cold clinical pressure that made me antsy. All I wanted to do was turn and run.

‘Now I know how you feel about things on your neck,’ he said. He ran his finger along my bottom lip and my body went haywire, distress and arousal mingling and making me feel floaty and spacey in my own body. ‘But it’s just until the party’s over. To remind you. If you are a good girl, we’ll take it off as soon as we can.’

I nodded and then bit my lip hard enough to taste a coppery kiss of blood. I would not cry. I would obey.

I bowed my head to allow Trevor to put the necklace on. Each section of sterling silver reminded me of a very subtle smiley face. The three were linked and the charm dangled from the centre section. I could tell just by eyeing it that it would be too snug to my flesh. Constricting and cruel.

That alone made my cunt wet. My heart beat fast. My cheeks flushed.

Trevor smiled and shook his head. He tsk-ed at me and I knew I’d made a mistake. ‘Come on now, Winona … is that how you accept a gift?’

He pointed one blunt finger at the generic grey carpet at his feet. ‘Kneel.’

I felt stupid. What had I been thinking? But again that wet curl of arousal in my pussy made it all OK. I moved forwards, dropped to my knees, bared my throat.

He hooked the necklace quickly. With my issues, it felt like a death sentence – the most severe of punishments. But I forced myself to take a shuddery but calming breath and relax some.

His zipper hissed at me and I watched, excited and somewhat ashamed, to see him pull his cock free. He painted my lips slowly with the warm silken skin of his glans. I hummed softly, swaying a little on my knees as if intoxicated.

I parted my lips, let him smear his skin along my pink painted mouth. When he made that sound in the back of his throat that always made me tremble, I moved my head forwards to suck him.

‘This is how you accept a gift, Winona.’ His voice was soft as he pushed deeper into my throat. I swayed along with the lulling sound of his words. He took my head in his hands, cupping me so that the world was muffled and I felt like I could hear the ocean if I tried.

When he touched the back of my throat with his cock, driving deep, I gagged a little. My eyes watered. I sucked in a desperate elated breath through my nose.

He growled, a sound I cherished. ‘Hike up that skirt, Winona. And there’d better be no panties under there.’

My fingers clutched my snug skirt and lifted. Beneath it I wore only thigh-high stockings and a small, well-groomed patch of pubic hair.

He nodded, forcing his cock deeper into my throat. ‘Good’ was all he said. And then, ‘You may touch yourself.’

I was slick and slippery. Warm and eager. My fingers slid along my nether lips, parting, stroking, plucking, pinching. I eased fingers into my cunt as I sucked him a little faster. A little deeper. A little better.