Seven Days With Her Boss

The first spanking surprises me, and I yelp before I can count. “One, sir.” The second and third come in rapid succession. I squeak out the numbers as his hand connects for a fourth time. “Four, sir. Thank you, sir.”

There’s more. A lot more. I drop the book, blushing. They make it seem so normal in their everyday lives. This one was a punishment for the girl, the submissive, masturbating when she was apparently not allowed to without his permission. The spanking was hot, or I wouldn’t be so turned on. I hope he can’t smell me, my arousal, when I find him. If I sit down anywhere, I’ll probably leave a wet mark behind.

Having checked all the rooms on the first floor, I carefully climb my way to the second. I near the office across from the bedrooms Kodiche had shown me earlier, and the door is slightly ajar. Nudging it open with my hip, I peek around the corner. He’s here, and—Oh, fuck! I . . . I can’t . . .

Leaning back in an office chair, Kodiche has his hand inside his open pants, fingers stroking himself. He’s jerking off. I know I shouldn’t watch, but I just can’t look away. His cock is red at the tip, getting more so as he strokes, and it’s even hotter watching him than reading that scene in the book. Is that what got him so hard, reading that erotica? What is he thinking about? The book? Me?

Squeaking in surprise at that thought, I step back toward the hall. His eyes open and land on me, lips curling into a snarl. There’s surprise in his stare at first, but it melts away into pure hunger. Even with my relative inexperience, I know that look.

“You better not drop my coffee, Vivian.” His voice is breathy, but it’s even more demanding than this morning. “You do remember the last time you spilled coffee, right?” His fingers slide up and down the thick, jutting length in time with his words, and I can see the pre-come beading up from here. He has no modesty, and with a body like that he doesn’t need to.

I set his coffee down on the desk, earning me a questioning glance. “Come over here, Vivian.” The way he says my name . . . It’s too intimate. Too close.

Even though I’m worried that this is going too fast, I walk around the desk until I’m in front of him in the naughty secretary clothes he picked out for me to wear. In silent offering, he spreads his legs, bringing me into his space. “Kneel.” It’s a husky whisper, barely there, but I drop to the carpet as if it were a barked command.

“Good girl.”

Breath catching pleasure spikes through my pussy at his praise. It’s intoxicating to be looked at with that much need.

“You want to be my good girl and listen to all I ask of you, don’t you, Vivian?” He releases his cock and reaches up to flick open the top buttons on my blouse. “You look so fucking hot in this.”

I eye his cock, still wondering what he was picturing as he jerked off. “Do you need help, Mr. Lamant?”

“Kodiche,” he corrects. “Actually, I think if you’re going to kneel, you can call me ‘sir,’ as long as you’re behaving.”

“Do you need help . . . sir?” It is hard to say, but the way his cock swells even more is enough to make me want to say it again and again.

“Suck me. You know how, right?”

Nodding, I lick my lips and crawl forward until I can smell the musk of his skin, feel the body heat he exudes. “Yes, sir.”

He moans before I can even touch my tongue to the head. Lapping, I taste the salty sweet fluid and look up at him as it trails from his tip to my tongue. “Mmm. That’s right. Look at me with those pretty eyes as I use your mouth. Open up for me, Vivian.” Clenching fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me down as his cock slips past my lips. Hot, so hard, I try to breathe through my nose as he pushes deeper. Before I can gag, Kodiche pulls me back, letting me breathe before thrusting back in.

He doesn’t give me more than I can take, and for that I’m grateful, but he’s not gentle, not at all. Snarling as he thrusts, I can feel strands of my hair pulling as he fucks my mouth. I love seeing what I am doing to him, how undone he’s becoming. If this is the worst of what I have to do for seven days, I can live with this. I can get on my knees and give blowjobs.

“Don’t you drift away on me, Vivian.” Releasing his grip on my head, Kodiche leans back further, and he reaches into his slacks to hold the base of his cock. “I wish you could see how pretty you look as you suck my dick. The only thing better would be if we were at the office and you were doing this in front of the windows where anyone outside could look up and see. Or maybe I could lean you up against the glass and fuck you. I bet you’d love that. The cold glass making your nipples hard as I thrust into you. I remember how wet you were this morning when I ordered you to put on those clothes. You’re mine, Vivian.”

I hum at him in response, not wanting to stop my rhythm. He’s pumping in time with each movement I make, and I know he has to be close. The small jabs he’s making aren’t even real thrusts at this point. There were days early in my employment for him that I fantasized about this, of bringing in coffee and offering him a different sort of distraction on his break.

Those eyes of his, though . . . They’re more than I ever dreamed of. Seeing him devour me with those dark eyes, I know I’ll never get this out of my head. Late at night, ten years from now, I’ll still be picturing myself on my knees beside his desk and sucking his cock while he looks at me with such awe.

“That’s right. Fuck! Take it all, Vivian. Swallow it all down,” he barks as he starts to come. I gag, choking on the fluid as it lands on the back of my tongue, but his hands hold me down, giving me no option but to swallow. It gets easier as the pulses slow to dribbles, and he finally pulls out, leaving me gasping.

“Lick me clean.”

His cock hardly softens and I lap at the escaping semen until he’s only shiny from my saliva. I drop back onto my heels, sitting up as I await his next command. When he tells me I can put his dick away, I have to bite back my first thought: “I have to put my toys away without even playing with them first?”

This whole boss power struggle is all about him and what he wants. I’m getting my job out of it, I hope. He does have a nice cock at least.

Despite having just had my mouth on him, it seems weird to have my fingers tucking his dick back inside his slacks and underwear. There’s something far more close about it, more intimate.

He senses it too, or at least can read my face, and he stands quickly, zipping the rest of the way. “You can go make us dinner now. I’m going to finish up some tasks here and then I’ll join you. After, you can go to bed in the room next to mine. You’ve done well so far.”

Maybe it was his tone, or the self-satisfied smile he wore as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. I’m not certain which set off my temper. “I can go to bed?” I mimic his emphasis as I carefully stand up. It’d be way too easy to sprain my ankle in these death trap shoes. “How gracious of you to allow me to run around in this slutty outfit and make you dinner before going to sleep. Should I thank you for the air I breathe?”

Then he looks at me, and I know I've fucked up.

5

Kodiche watches me like he wants to crumple me into a little ball. It's terrifying and I want to take my words back. What was I thinking?

Suddenly he laughs, shaking his head side to side. “You suck my cock and suddenly you forget your place.” He faces me, pacing forward until my back makes contact with the wall. We're so close; almost touching. “Yes, you heard me. Make dinner, then go to bed and think over your position much more carefully. You're here to obey me, to prove to me that you are reliable.” Kodiche gives me a questioning look. “Or do you want the whole office to know you were fired for fucking up a huge meeting?”

My nose is full of him. I can't stop staring at his mouth and wondering how he'll taste if we kiss. I know I still taste like his come; would he even care?

He leaves quietly, having made his point, and I just watch him go. I can still smell him, taste him, and I can’t bring myself to drink my own coffee and wash the flavor away.

I don’t understand myself. I’m so horny I could spend the next hour masturbating and still not be satiated. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on; it’s confusing and hot at the same time.

I need to start supper. But first, maybe I could take care of myself. He’s obviously gone for a bit, and what I want to cook shouldn’t take too long. Reaching down my body, my fingers slide up under the short bit of skirt covering my thighs and push aside my panties—not like there is much to them anyway. I’m so wet that I can hear the liquid slosh. Was it the blow job? The book? Everything? My body tingles as my fingers slip between my folds, and I freeze as I think back to the book. She got a spanking for doing exactly what I’m doing.

As turned on as I am, getting through dinner and then climbing into bed are probably better for me. I can take my time later and get myself off without worry. If he walks in on me fingering myself, would he expect me to let him punish me? That raises the question: would I like it?

My fingers are glistening when I pull them out of my panties.

I wash my hands three times before I start cooking, but I still imagine I can smell myself on them. I know it’s just the fact that my panties are so wet that I can smell my arousal whenever I move, but it’s hard to not think about fingering myself and having a bit of relief.

Despite the lack of food in his kitchen before my grocery trip, he has a well-stocked collection of pans. It’s practically a professional restaurant’s supply. I could cook all week for the two of us without dirtying everything.