The ding of a notification jolts you from the dreary monotony of your daily work. Your hand flies to your phone, which was sitting surreptitiously next to your keyboard, and your heart jumps when you see the sender and the first line of text. Hastily, you key in your passcode and open the app to read the message in its entirety.
**I hope you’re not too busy after work, because I have plans for you**
You read through the cryptic message several times before you commit to a response. Thumbing it in, you hesitate for the briefest moment before hitting send. You’re certain he won’t elaborate with any specificity, but you can’t resist an attempt. Seconds tick by, and your eyes drift out of focus as you stare at your message, waiting for him to read it. Simultaneously, the little “D” next to your response switches to an “R” and ellipses pop up to indicate his incoming answer. In an instant, two more messages appear, one right after another .
**Patience is a virtue, hun.**
**You’ll have to wait.**
With a resigned sigh, you send a brief “ok” and set your phone back down on your desk. Excitement surges through you as you let your mind wander to the possibilities waiting for you. The new HR director, has only been with the company for about a month, but it didn’t take even that long for him to take an interest in you. His first week in the office he conducted one-on-one meetings with every employee. You weren’t too worried, because everyone else described them as the standard HR shift-type of meetings, but you know now, looking back, that your’s was definitely not the norm.
The first thing you noticed upon entering his office was his piercing blue eyes. The kind of eyes that seem to look right through you. He rose from his plush leather chair and offered you a seat in front of his desk but, when you sat down, he didn’t resume his place behind his massive, dark cherry desk. Instead, he perched himself on the corner of the clutter-free desk and, crossing one leg over the other, his rested his entwined fingers over one knee.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said in a surprisingly soothing tone. “I’ve been hearing good things about your work.”
“Oh,” you start “thank you, I just do what I’m supposed to do.”
“I think you’re being far too modest,” he says with a small chuckle before leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially, “everyone I’ve spoken to claims you’re one of the best assets within the company.”
You can’t help but notice the subtle scent of aftershave or cologne when he leans forward and it’s somewhat intoxicating. You find yourself leaning in, emulating his posture, and the aroma fills your nostrils. “Well, um, th-thank you” you stammer.
“My question, is why you aren’t getting through more work?” He says with a sudden, sharp change of tone as he straightens up a little.
“What do you mean?” you inquire.
“Wellllll,” he says, drawing out the monosyllabic word for several heartbeats, “if you’re the best at what you do, why do you only get through the same amount of work as those who aren’t the best?” He questions with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, if you’re the best,” he say stressing the last word,” you should either be done much quicker than the others or getting more work done in the same amount of time. Either way, you should be getting through more work…The only question I have whether it’s intentional?”
You’re taken aback by his accusations and are momentarily speechless. “I-”
“No no. Don’t answer now,” he says, cutting you off and dismissing your answer with a wave of his hand while leaning forward once more. This time the light stubble forming his beard brushes against your left cheek as his whispers softly, but sternly in your ear. “I just wanted you to be aware that I’m going to be keeping a close watch one you.”
And keep a close watch he did. For the next week you were required to bring him detailed records of the projects you were working on and provide on the spot explanations for the timing allotted to each minute aspect. Each meeting he found some reason to get close to you. Once it was an imaginary – or at least you suspected – speck in your hair, another time it was the back of his fingers brushing the top of your thigh as he lifted a file off your lap. He also had this habit of standing behind you and reading over your shoulder as you worked. Sometimes, he got so close you swore you could feel strands of your hair getting caught in his stubble.
It was in the second week, after he’d requested you stay late to go over yet another project review, that he first made an explicit advancement. The clock showed nearly eleven, and he was once more hovering over your shoulder as you explained the nuances of the project and why they merited so many man-hours to complete, when he said in his warm voice, “why is it that you’re able to stay so late like this?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking” you respond.
“Well, I saw from your personnel file you’re not married, but doesn’t your boyfriend get upset with how late you stay at work?” He rephrases.
“I,” you start with a slight furrow forming in your brown – *why is this any of his business* – “I don’t have a boyfriend, and my kids are with their father this week.”
“Ohhhh” he purrs in your ear, “so there’s nobody waiting up at home for this?” as he spoke, his hands silently moved from the back of your chair to your shoulders and gave a small squeeze. “Such a shame…”
His movements cause a flurry of reactions within you. Almost at once you felt anger welling up, but it was quickly replaced by the realization that you panties had moistened just the slighted bit. “No, nobody waiting at home for me.” you finally reply.
“It must get awfully lonely on weeks when there’s nobody there.” He whispers, his mouth so close to your ear now you can feel his warm breath. “So lonely” And, as if to punctuate those two final words, he leans in and wraps his lips around your earlobe. Almost involuntarily, you let out a barely audible moan. This was all the consent he needed and, in a flash, he was devouring you.
His lips and tongue begin to work their way from lobe to lips, and your breath catches in your throat. His left hand slides up your back and his fingers encircle the base of your neck. You acutely remember the shiver you felt as his fingertips pressed into your soft flesh. At the same time, your mind and body fight for control over the situation. You knew this was wrong, but it felt so good. You want to be ravished, consumed by him in that moment, and he seemed all too willing to oblige. His hand holding your neck gently but firmly in place, your tongues danced in the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lighting. Each dart of his tongue was met by yours and returned with equal gusto. When he took your lower lip into his mouth, you barely register his right hand creeping up your thigh, but your pussy certainly takes note. You can feel yourself swelling as the blood courses to that most intimate region and, in this moment, your mind relinquishes control to your body.
The journey of his hand up your thigh seems to simultaneously take an instant and a lifetime, and you moan into his open mouth as his thumb hooks under the elastic of your panties. *Thank god I have good panties on today*, you think to yourself as his digit brushes over your bare crease. As soon as you have this thought the air is rent with the sound of ripping fabric. You didn’t even notice the absence of his hand on your neck, but when you break the kiss and look down you see both of his forearms protruding from your dress as the cool air explodes onto your exposed pussy.
Before you can protest, a finger is buried up to the last knuckle in your now-drenched gash, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan. He expertly works his long, smooth finger in and out, turning his hand with each stroke causing the back of his knuckles to rub against your clit. You close your eyes and lean back in the hard, leather chair, opening your legs wider in welcome. You can feel the tension building within your core as he pumps faster and faster. Your breathing becomes ragged, and you sense your mouth hanging open as you struggle to hold back the tide. Your eyes fly open as his unoccupied hand appears out of nowhere and captures your neck once more, this time embracing the front and holding with firm insistence.
“You better not cum,” he growls as he adds a second finger to the first, stretching the delicate muscles wider and redoubling his force and tempo. You try to swallow, but your mouth is completely dry from your rapid breathing. Your eyes drift out of focus as you try to concentrate on anything but the assault on your drenched nethers; a task made all the more difficult by the wet squelching and sucking noises emanating from under your pushed up dress. Suddenly, feel his hand rotate, his fingers with it, and you feel the pressure build intensely as his fingertips begin to knead and massage on that small, spongy patch – the center of pleasure – causing you to cry out.
“Hoooold it,” he warns, the growl still lingering on the edge of his breath.
“Oh my god!” you pant, as you begin to squirm in the chair to escape his clutches, but he’s got you pinned with his strong hand around your throat. “I’m going to cum,” you protest, his only response is to tighten his grip around your neck as the pummeling continues unabated. You can feel the crescendo rapidly approaching, and you’re sure there’s no stopping it. Out of sheer desperation you begin to plead, “please.”
“Thirty seconds” he whispers in your ear. The warm tone of his voice a stark change from the sharp orders earlier and it almost causes the dam to burst. Determined, you bite down on your lower lip, hoping against hope the rush of pain with help sate your body’s uncontrollable reaction.
“Twenty seconds” he announces, but time seems to have stalled. It felt like a lifetime had passed in that intervening ten seconds. You’re winning the fight, but only just.
“Ten seconds,”
“Nine”
“Eight”
“Seven”
“Six”
“Five”
“Four”
“Three”
“Two”
“One”
“Cum for me,” he orders into your ear as he sucks your lobe back into his mouth once more, bringing this strange and erotic encounter full circle.
“Ohhhhhh god” you cry out as your body unleashes. The guttural noises from your throat are almost drowned out by the sound of a torrent gushing from under your dress and spilling across the floor. Wave upon wave of pleasure crash over you as you buck and writhe beneath his hands. Through all of your spasms, his fingers continue plumbing your depth even as your muscles clench and contract around them and the tidal wave of cum soaks into the cuffs of his shirt.
Eventually, they subside, and he stands up and kisses you sweetly on the forehead. “Good girl,” he whispers, as he brings his saturated fingers to his mouth and obscenely sucks them clean in front of you. “Let’s just keep this between us, hun,” he says and he unbuttons the starched blue dress shirt and shrugs it into the trash can next to his desk. There is an edge of warning to his voice, but even as he says this you can’t help but think, *who could I possibly tell anyway*…you’re the HR director. He pulls a fresh shirt from a nearby wardrobe that matches his desk, and begins pulls it onto his frame.
“Here,” he says as he hands you a footlong wooden box. Curious, you begin to open it, but he closes the distance in three quick strides and snaps it shut before you can glimpse what’s inside. “Wait, don’t open it here.” He chids, “just keep in nearby in your desk.”
Thinking of this now, your eyes fall on the bottom right desk drawer where you have been amassing his gifts. Biting your lip, you ease open the drawer a crack, but you’re startled when your phone alerts another message received.
**Stay out of the drawer!**
*What in the world?*, you think to yourself, *how does he do that?!* With a slight pout, you push the drawer closed with the inside of your knee and rotate back in front of your keyboard. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek out the door, but the hallway is barren. The mountain of files is dwindling, but your eyes still flit to the clock, and dread of the inevitable long night sets in. Resigned to the worst, you settle in and resume working.
Slowly and predictably, the office begins to empty until you notice your keystrokes are the only sound breaking the otherwise silent room. Standing up, you stretch and glance forlornly at the stack of files yet to be done. Every end of quarter means extra hours for everyone, but you’ve been so preoccupied lately you’ve inadvertently intensified the usual crunch. Your eyes slide off the desk and fall on the drawer once more. Quietly – for no apparent reason – you open your cube door and step into the main room. Under the guise of using the restroom, you walk up and down the aisles checking that you are indeed alone. After checking the last cube, you quickly make your way back to your own and close the door behind you. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the flashing light on you phone which you’d forgotten to bring with you on your sweep of the office. Unlocking it, you see another waiting message from him.
**So, is the office empty?**
You stare at this message for several seconds as a thrill runs down your spine before responding that you think it is. Almost immediately another message sends the phone into a spasm of vibrations.
**Good. How much longer do you have to complete your files tonight?**
Looking over at the remaining stack, your heart sinks as you calculate the hours required to finish them all before tomorrow morning. At your average pace you figure there’s at least another two hours, and you tell him as much.
**I think it’s going to take a little longer than that, hun…**
The ellipses at the end of his sentence sends a thousand questions coursing through your head and a slight dampening between your thighs. You squirm a bit in your seat as you ask why, the hem of your dress tickling the back of your calves.
**What sort of panties are you wearing today? I trust you’re not wear a bra with that dress.**
You describe in detail the silky, black, boy shorts with the rippled back. Your favorite pair because they are the perfect combination of form and function. The softness of the fabric is supremely comfortable and they have the benefit of showing off all of your beautiful curves.
**Nice. You can remove them now.**
**Fold them up and put them in your purse for later.**
Your body gives a little shudder as your eyes scan his words. Standing, you hike up the dress and slide your panties down your legs and over your strappy, multicolored shoes perfectly showcasing your freshly pedicured toes. The cool air washes over your bare pussy and you’re reminded of the dampening effect of his earlier message. Quickly and quietly you fold them neatly and place them in your purse, before messaging that you’ve done as requested.
**Good girl**
**Now insert your balls and get to work. You said two hours and the timer starter ten minutes ago…**
*Oh shit!* You pull the drawer open and quickly locate the inconspicuous box. A mere three inches by three inches, and covered in a thin black silk, it was one of the first gifts he gave you. The hinges open smoothly revealing the red velvet interior and the two gleaming silver balls resting side by side. Sitting down again, you scoot down in your chair, lifting one leg, and drawing your dress up your thighs. Another shiver runs through you as your sex is exposed to the conditioned office air. You raise one of the weighted balls and place it in your mouth, thoroughly coating it in saliva before withdrawing it again. A shimmering bead of saliva extends from one side to your lips before it breaks and it trails lightly down your chin. Holding the slickened orb between thumb and forefinger, you position it at the base of your cleft and gently guide it into your soft folds. Your slit expands to take in the new guest and you sigh as it snaps shut, encasing it within you. Repeating the process with the second ball, you quickly sit upright and are rewarded with a pleasant vibration in your bowels. As you settle in, you look at the clock and note with despair another five minutes has passed. *An hour and forty-five minutes to get through all this?* With a deep breath that triggers another coursing vibration, you dig in.
The minutes pass quickly as the clock on your computer edges closer and closer to the self-imposed deadline. The constant shifting and squirming isn’t helping your concentration, nor is the steady stream of juices making way down your inner thigh which began midway through this contest. It’s taken everything you had at times to not take a five minute break, hell a one minute break, to get some relief, but you know the penalty for playing without asking, and there is no way in hell you’re asking until you’re finished. Out of habit, you glance over at the clock and have a moment’s panic when you see only ten minutes remaining. The remaining file is thick, and you’re sure – even on your best day – there’s no chance of getting that finished in ten minutes. Regardless, you pull it forward, flip it open and do your best to ignore the beads of sweat forming on your brow.
You’re down to the last couple documents when a distinctly male voice clears his throat behind you causing you to jump.
“Time’s up,” He says, as he looks at you from the doorway. With a groan, your eyes drop to the crotch of his pants – conveniently level with your eyes – before quickly looking back up at him. He saunters in your cube and quickly flips through the remaining documents.
“Three left, huh?” he asks rhetorically as he closes the file. “I think that can wait until tomorrow morning, hun.” With that, he extends his hands and closes it around your wrist. “Come with me.” Your heart leaps into your throat and you’re barely able to squeak out a response, so you simply stand and follow him out and down the all too familiar path to his office. As you walk, you can feel the balls rolling around inside you, and you clench your muscles as much as possible to hold them in place. The increased tension amplifies the sensations, forcing you to focus on your breathing to prevent a premature eruption.
He releases his hold on you as he leads you across the threshold and then commands you to close the door. There’s something about that simple act, despite the vacated office, that makes you tingle. The thought of being completely alone with him, private and secluded. When you turn back around, he’s standing by the wardrobe removing his sport coat. When he catches you watching he motions for you to come closer, and you obey. As you walk forward, he holds up a hand and points to the desk instead, “There, hun.”
You change course and lean against the corner of his desk.
“Uh uh,” he says not even looking at you, “over the desk, hun.”
You can feel the blood rush into your face as you slowly dismount, turn around, and lean your upper body over the smooth polished wood. Your breasts press into the cool surface, the thin fabric doing nothing to insulate them. Almost immediately you can feel your areolas begin to pucker and your nipples jut out. In this position, you can feel the wet spot on the back of your dress from the last two hours of sitting with the balls embedded within you causing your blushing cheeks to deepen to an even darker crimson, and you sense it spreading to your neck and upper chest.
He walks around in front of you and begins to carefully begins to undo the knot of his tie, slipping the silky fabric through one side with a quiet *sssssssp*. His fingers begin to caress the material as he looks down at you. After several moments, he reaches out and grasps your wrist again, this time pulling your arm out straight before positioning the other arm alongside it. He places the tie over top of both wrists and quickly begins to manipulate it until your wrists are bound tightly together.
“Are you going to be able to keep them on the desk, or will I need to secure you further?” He inquires, the familiar growl returning to his voice.
“I-I can keep them on the desk” you reply with a quiet stammer.
“Good girl’ and with that he unbuttons the top button of his shirt exposes a flash of his dark, curly chest hair. Next, he undoes the clasps on his cufflinks, and sets them on the desk, before rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. “Don’t want anymore ruined shirts, do we?”
As he walks around the desk out of sight behind you, his fingers trail across your hips and buttocks sending a ripple of goosebumps erupting across your thighs. You can feel your dress being lifted but, without being able to see anything, you are forced to rely on your other senses. With the fabric lifted, and your panties still neatly folded in your purse, you can feel the gentle kiss of cool air on your exposed ass. His hand caresses one cheek, causing you to involuntarily clench and the balls pulse once more. You feel his smooth palm make slow circles from the crease where your thigh transitions into your butt, up to your lower back, and back down again. The tension slowly melts away until you hear him say, “Three documents remaining, huh?”
There’s something in the mock questioning tone which causes your throat to constrict, making it difficult to swallow. Instead, you try to just nod your head, but in this position all you can manage is a miniscule sideways jerk. His hand stops mid-circle. “What’s that, hun?” he asks “I couldn’t quite hear that,” he says with a laugh.
“Yes, I meant yes” you choke out, your throat now burning as all your saliva seems to have evaporated.
“And what did we agree would happen when you didn’t finish work in the timeframe you’re expected?” He asks quizzically.
Oh no, the reasoning for this posture becomes clear as you answer softly, “I’d be punished.”
“That’s right, hun…you’d be punished.” he breathes dangerously. “The question then, my dear, is how?” His hand disappears from your rear and you can hear his shoes fading as he clearing walks away from the desk. You strain your ears from any sign of what’s coming, but all you can detect is the soft *thum* of something heavy closing. His footsteps grow louder, and suddenly he’s visible – just barely – out of the corner of your eye. He sets down what looks to be a rolled up blanket and unties the string holding it together. Slowly, he unrolls the bundle and throws the top half of it open, revealing a series of hard to make out objects. One by one, he pulls the implements out and lays them on top of the splayed blanket.
First is a thin wooden rod which looks something like a long wand. Approximately two feet in length, it has what looks like a handle on one end.
*Oh god, is that a cane?!*
Next, he pulls out an enormous flogger with a tail of what looks like brown suede and a thick wooden handle.
*Fuck me* you groan a little as he lays that next to the cane.
Third is a wide, flat wooden paddle which looks like an oversized ping pong paddle. He turns it slowly with his fingers and you can just make out the words “bad” and “girl” embossed on opposite sides, the lettering appears to be subtly raised, and you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how it would feel to have that come crashing down on your exposed posterior.
Next is a thin curved piece of metal, with a solid ball on one end and a eyelet on the other. It sounds heavy as he sets it down beside the others, despite its diminutive appearance.
*Is that a hook?* You’ve fantasized about one, but never seen one in person before. It looks smaller than you imagined, but that ball has you second guessing your curiosity.
Finally, he pulls a length of rough-looking brown cord from the last pocket. The rope, neatly coiled and wrapped around itself appears to be several feet long, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s got in store.
*I was almost done. If I hadn’t wasted so much time looking around the office, I could have been done when he got here.*
Once everything is neatly arranged – *purposely just within view* you suspect – he reaches out and caresses your upturned cheek. “I think one spank for each document is fair, don’t you”
You flinch slightly at this proposition, but respond with a meek “yes.”
“Good girl,” he says as he pats your cheek twice.
And then he’s gone again. You suspect he’s behind you once more but, without any stimulus, you can’t be sure.
*SLAP*
You grunt quietly as his hand makes contact with your right cheek, erasing any doubt as to his location. His hand lingers even as you can feel the capillaries filling with blood. There is no question that first spank was hard enough to leave a mark. He rubs the stinging area, pressing in slightly, but the pressure is soothing rather than painful. The movement causes your cheek to pull away from the left one, and you shiver as the wetness coating your lips is exposed. You jerk marginally as his other hand makes contact with your left cheek, even though it was soft and clearly not the second spank. He mirrors the motions of the right on the left and, as the rubbing intensifies, you’re forced to clench again to prevent the balls from escaping your clutching muscles.
Without warning, his warm tongue presses to your puckered hole and you instinctively lurch forward onto your toes. His fingers dig into your rear and hold you fast as his tongue begins to work in slow, soft circles around your bud. You close your eyes, part your lips, and groan as he works his magic, and you can sense your pussy swelling even more in response to his attention. Minutes fade as his tongue circles around, presses into your tight hole, and then returns to make another lap. When he finally pulls back, removing both his hands and warm mouth, your ass constricts as the residual moisture from his mouth chills your pucker.
The clink of metal causes you to open your eyes, but all you catch is a flash of him walking back out of your view. Your eyes search frantically, but they are useless. Finally, they fall on the blanket, and you notice the rope is missing.
*Why would that make a metallic sound?* you wonder to yourself.
His fingers return, but this time they are running up the length of your slit, eliciting a moan as they reach perilously close to your clit. Hearing your stifled moan, his hand stops, and he delivers a light spank to your clit. “That was a free one, babe” he laughs, but his fingers linger over the sensitive button and you have to restrain yourself from pushing down against them. His hand turns over, and a finger parts your cleft as it plunges inside you. “Time for you to return my balls,” he says, and you can tell he’s still smiling by the tone of his voice. His finger probes inside you, pressing against your walls, as he searches for the pair of metallic orbs. Finally, he locates one and, curling his finger over it, he manages to pry it from your grasp. Your opening stretches to accommodate both his finger and the sphere, but it eventually pops free into his palm. The second falls into place and, in a second, your sex is empty leaving you longing for it to be filled again soon.
Your wish is almost immediately granted as cold metal is pressed into you once more. You shiver as you notice the difference in sensations and realize the source of the metallic clink must have been the hook. It’s bulbous end easily slides inside you and, because of the angle of the curve and your positioning, rests squarely over your g-spot. The pressure creates a tightness in your core, and you exhale to slow your racing heart. He begins to guide it in and out of you, applying a steady pulse of pressure to your pleasure center. Due to the prolonged arousal caused by the balls, you almost immediately have to suppress the urge to cum. Just when you think you’ll be forced to beg, he withdraws the hook too, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
The relief is short lived and you feel the warmed metal ball pressed firmly against your dark star. You try to control your breathing, but the increasing pressure is making it difficult to concentrate. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, your muscles stretch to accommodate the solid, metal ball. Finally, you exhale and it slips entirely within your ass. The fullness is alien, but oddly satisfying. Mimicking his motions from minutes earlier, the hook repeatedly stretches your hole as he pulls it to expand your hole to the widest point before plunging it back inside again. His hand returns to your lips and, with two fingers, he begins massaging your clit as he stretches your tight pucker.
Without warning, he thrusts the hook entirely inside you, and you are overwhelmed with the immense fullness. The cool metal of the protruding end rests between your cheeks as you feel his hands working mysteriously beneath your belly. Something tickles your exposed underside and you understand he’s wrapping the rope around your waist. He makes several adjustments then, suddenly, the hook moves strangely within you. He’s doing something with the protruding end, and you suspect you know what.
*He’s tying that hook inside me*
Your makeshift belt completed, he tugs on the rope twice, and you feel a corresponding jolt reverberate through the hook and into your bowels. There’s a quiet movement as he sounds to be shifting about before
*THWACK*
The wooden padden makes hard contact with your left cheek and, with another merciless tug on the rope-belt
*THWACK*
There is a corresponding impact on your right cheek. Your ass is on fire and you barely have time to process the rush of sensation than you feel something hard pressing past your sopping lips. His thighs press into yours as he buries his hard cock up to the hilt in your drenched sex.
“Oh god!” you cry out and the hook pressing into the thin wall has compressed your vagina and the suddenness of his fullness takes you by surprise. Slowly now, he saws in and out of your cunt, and you feel the first wave building again. His hands find your hips as he plunges deeper and harder with each thrust. One hand slides up your back, and finds your shoulder-length mane. With a twirl of his hand, he captures a hank of your hair, jerking your head back sharply. His other hand grasps your flesh just above your hip and your thighs bounce off his desk as he assails your pussy. Your body starts shaking under this combined assault and you can sense the point of no turning back quickly approaching.
“I’m going to cum” you announce with a sense of urgency in your voice.
“Not yet you’re not.” He grunts as he slams his full length inside you. “You didn’t finish on time, so you won’t finish until I tell you to.”
Gritting your teeth, you try to think of anything and everything which might serve to distract you. You start by trying to work through the procedure for the filing you’ll be working on in the morning, but the constant pressure in both your holes quickly renders that ineffective. Next, you try to just focus on your breathing. Slow breath in through your nose, slow breath out your mouth. Unfortunately, the incessant pounding is forcing the air out of your lungs, disturbing any sense of rhythm you might have.
“Please…” you try to plead, but his silence – and the tug on your belt – is the only answer.he gives you. You become acutely aware of his change in tempo and, more concerning, the fleshy head of his hard member steadily massaging your g-spot.
*Fuck me! How much longer can he last?*
“Please…I can’t hold it any longer” You try again, and this time the answer comes in the form of a ringing
*SLAP*
You groan into the air, your neck craned back by his grip in your hair, and you can hear his breathing becoming more labored. This simultaneously gives you hope, and a rapid return of your consciousness to your aching pussy. In an act of desperation, you clench down hard, hoping the increased pressure will speed his release.
“Jesus, your pussy feels amazing!” he cries out, and you take this as confirmation of the merits of your maneuver. You focus all your energy on clenching and relaxing those overworked muscles, milking his cock as he continues to massage your g-spot. You feel him loosen his grip on your hair as he begins to moan.
His sounds of pleasure push you past the tipping point and your cry out “PLEASE GOD PLEASE!!!”
As if awakened by your cries, he yanks up hard on the belt, stretching your ass beyond endurance as he yells out, “cum with me!”
Your whole body goes rigid as you explode around his turgid shaft. As the first pulse of juices gush forth from your cunt, he cries out and you can feel his cock pulsing and the jets of warm cum shoot into your womb. Through the combined efforts of his unceasing thrusting and added pressure of the hook, you writhe as your orgasms cycle again and again.
It seems like a lifetime, but eventually his pulsing slows, and he withdraws his still-engorged cock from your sopping pussy. Your body tingles from the aftershocks, and you rest your flushed face on the cool desk. You see his cock through your partially open eyes as he makes his way around to the back of his desk and deftly unties your wrists. He massages your wrists, soothing the circulation which you didn’t even notice was slightly constricted from his binding. Looking up, you notice his hard member is shiny and slick from a combination of your and his cum. He opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a soft, white hand towel. Carefully, he cleans himself off, before bending down and placing his signature kiss on your forehead which must be tattooed with sweat.
He places the palm of his hand on your upturned cheek and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone. His other hand finds your hair again, but this time it’s to run his fingers through your hair.
“You will keep the belt on until the morning, hun, understand?” He says softly but firmly.
“I understand,” you reply sleepily. The past half-hour has exhausted you, and you feel like you can drift off even in this absurd position
He moves around the desk again and, sliding his hand under your chest, you understand he’s allowing your to stand upright. Your legs are unsteady and you almost collapse, but he catches you under your arms and ushers you to his couch. Embracing you in a tight hug, he carefully unzips the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He kneels down and, using the towel he’d retrieved earlier, he gently dries your legs and groin. When he turns you around to face the plush, leather monstrosity, he places a smooth hand on your shoulder, and you lie down on the soft, cool cushions. He quickly strides back to his wardrobe before returning to the couch with a warm looking throw.
*He’s just full of surprises*, you think as he tucks the ends of the soft throw around you and you drift off to sleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/6m1hhe/late_nights_part_i_mf_orgasm_controldenial_bdsm