Seven Days With Her Boss

And I do. I sink into the bed, sighing, half in relief and half in surprise. I didn’t expect this. Any of this.

I didn’t expect him.

Will it always be this good? Or did I just get lucky with my first client?

I’m lost in thought, wondering about that, fantasizing about what Giovanni has in store for me next. His hands are pulling me out of the real world, forcing me into the fantasy he’s creating.

That’s why I don’t notice what he’s doing, when he lifts my right arm above my head, working my bicep, my forearm, kneading my wrist. He leaves my hand there, pulls my left arm up too, still massaging, distracting me.

Until I feel hard leather slide around my wrists.

I look up, startled, but he’s a pro at this. He’s already tightening the belt, binding my wrists together. Before I can react, he tosses the other end of the belt around the bedpost and cinches that tight, too.

I’m trapped now. Completely at his mercy.

My belly does that strange flutter again, like the kind of nerves you feel at the top of a roller coaster. Fear and adrenaline, but also… excitement.

His lips brush the back of my neck. Soft, light. He kisses his way down my back, his lips touching each ridge of my spine. When he reaches the edge of my shirt, he pauses to slide his hands under my stomach. Eager for his touch, for him to really touch me, take me however he pleases, I arch my hips toward him. But he only clutches the fabric of the lace top and yanks it up over my head. He leaves it tangled around my bound wrists, but I’m still flat against the bed, naked except for my panties now, my breasts heaving against the comforter.

Fucking hell, he hasn’t even touched me anywhere except my back and I’m already drenched. I can feel the heavy weight of my clit between my legs, hard and aching with want for him.

He leans over me again, his mouth at the small of my back. His tongue flicks over my skin, tasting, teasing. I moan again, not bothering to hide my desire. He chuckles softly, and even his hot breath along my back makes me shiver and wriggle against the restraints.

“Perfect,” he whispers. He flattens his palms along my back, runs them up my sides, touching my hips, my waist, grazing the very edges of my breasts with his fingertips. I can feel my nipples getting hard, even though he hasn’t so much as touched them yet. “You are such a perfect little whore, aren’t you, Lilly? God, the things I’m going to do to you…”

I sigh with longing. “Yes, please.”

A sudden, sharp sting rockets through me as he slaps my ass. Just one hit, not hard enough to leave a mark, but unexpected enough that I jump, tensing. “Yes please, sir,” he corrects, his voice sounding deeper, thicker now.

He’s turned on, too. I know it. So why won’t he fuck me?

I spread my legs and arch my back to point my ass toward him. “Yes, sir,” I reply, keeping my voice low and throaty.

“That’s better.” He rubs my ass, caressing the spot he just slapped, squeezing gently, and I groan with desire. “You’re getting turned on, aren’t you, my lovely slut?”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat, squirming under him.

“Good.” I swear I hear a grin in his voice when he says that. “Tell me, slut, do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“That’s unfortunate. Because I don’t fuck sluts until I know who they are.”

I tense, that flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach erupting again. “Sir?” I ask, hesitant, trying to turn to see him. I don’t know what he wants.

But his hands are sliding around my body now, underneath me, spreading across my stomach, finally, finally, and I can’t think straight anymore. One hand slips up between my breasts, tracing the ridge of my breastbone, circling right under my heart, before he reaches around to cup my breast in his hand, squeezing, kneading. My nipple is already rock hard against his palm, and he lets out a sigh as he straddles me, resting his hips on my ass. He’s still wearing his jeans, dammit, but I can feel the hard straight line of his cock through them. Teasing me.

I arch my hips to push them harder against his cock, and he tightens his hand on my breast in response, pinching my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. I cry out, half in pain and half in pleasure.

“You don’t move until I tell you to, understand, slut? Otherwise, I’ll stop giving you any pain or pleasure.” He draws his other hand out from under me to shove my hips back against the bed, flat. “I said, do you understand?”

I’m too distracted, there’s so many new sensations flooding my body. Pain, which I never knew I was into. Pleasure, from his warm hand around my breast, his hot body against mine. “I understand, sir,” I manage to gasp.

He lets go of my breast, presses his fingers into the ridge of my sternum and trails them down, over my stomach, circling my belly, tracing the arc of my hipbones, and finally going lower, lower…

I groan and fight the urge to push my hips forward with every ounce of self-control I possess, since I know by now that if I disobey his order, if I move without his permission, he’ll stop touching me.

I’ll do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t stop touching me.

His fingertips reach the edge of my mound, just inches away from my clit. He spreads his hand wide, and flattens his palm against my waxed-smooth mound, his fingertips grazing the tops of my thighs, sliding between them. But he’s careful. He knows what he’s doing. He touches everywhere except my clit, surrounding it, cupping it in his hand, so close I can feel the heat from his skin, and yet not giving me even an ounce of what I want.

I hold myself stock-still, not trusting myself to even breathe, because if I do, I know I’ll throw myself into his hand, grind my hips into his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss the side of my neck, letting his tongue trace the edge of my earlobe. “Now, do you want me to finger you?”

“Yes, sir,” I groan, my voice strained with effort.

He grins, lips curling against my skin, as he slides his hand lower, spreads the lips of my pussy with his strong fingers. The heel of his palm grazes my clit, and this time I can’t help it. It’s electric shock, his touch finally reaching my aching core, and I jump against the bed, involuntary.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see that, slut, because you’ve been such a good girl so far,” he says. His fingers slide into my slit, tracing the line between my ass, all the way up to the entrance of my pussy. I’m soaking wet; I can feel my juices coating his fingers, slick and heavy. He traces my pussy lazily, unhurried. This is a man who takes his time in all things. Who knows what he wants to get out of me, and exactly how to do it.

When he finally pushes one finger inside me, slowly, an inch at a time, I groan aloud in pleasure, clenching my fists around the sheets in order to hold my body still, force myself not to react the way I want to.

It is torture. Exquisite, perfect torment.

And then, just as he slides his finger all the way inside me, and curls the tip to drag along my inner walls, about to graze my G-spot… “Tell me your name, slut.”

I pant with effort, holding myself still. “L… Lilly,” I manage to gasp.

There’s another slap, another sharp sting, as he slaps my other ass cheek with his free hand. “Not your online whoring handle. Your real name.”

“I…” Shit. I can’t tell him. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

He pulls his finger out, and I moan with desire, regret. Then he thrusts his finger back inside me once more, and slaps my ass at the same time, harder. Pleasure and pain at once. Ecstasy and agony. “Your name.” His voice has gone dark now. Commanding.

I can’t resist him. I can’t fight this. “Corbella,” I whisper, defeated. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this moment going, this pleasure heightening.

“Corbella.” My name–my real name–in his mouth is another spark of pleasure, another reason my pussy clenches and my body quivers. “That is a beautiful name, Corbella.”

?

??Th—thank you, sir.”

He pulls out of me, then forces two fingers back in, spreading my walls, making me ache deep in my belly. “But I think you lied to me, Corbella. I don’t like being lied to.” His other hand traces my ass, rubbing the sore spot he slapped. Unlike the first time he spanked me, I’m pretty sure this one will leave a mark. Yet his fingers brushing that sensitive, sore skin are sparking off a whole new kind of sensation, a pleasant one… except that I know what he’s threatening. Another spanking.

“No, sir,” I murmur. “I never lied.” I can’t decide if I’d rather obey him, or disobey and earn another slap. It stung so good last time…

He thrusts his fingers inside me once more, grazing my G-spot, pushing hard against my front wall, so I feel his touch in every inch of my pussy, radiating out through my whole lower body. Tight and hard and so fucking good.

“No? You didn’t lie about this being your first time as an escort?”