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Authors: Cleo Peitsche

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BOOK: Executive Package
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Cunningham stared at her, a warning in his eyes. He was very upset, and this time it was clearly directed at her.

“Nice to see you, Elle,” Gustav said. Under normal circumstances, his sexy accent would have made her shiver.
 

“Hello,” she replied. Gustav was in his mid-forties, athletic and sexy. He was the oldest man she’d ever been with, and a natural dominant. She felt her face coloring as she remembered what his cock had felt like in her mouth.

And judging from the twinkle in his eye, he had a pretty good idea of what had just crossed her mind.
 

She murmured a greeting to Karl, then took a seat at the back of the table. She folded her hands in front of her and stared at her nails, afraid to meet Cunningham’s disapproving gaze.

“Now that we’re all here, we can discuss the logistics of this division of labor. Rather than divert resources from the soft launch, I think it’s easiest if we hire someone new to redo the commercials.” Cunningham’s voice was too deep and rumbly for Elle to pay close attention to his words, and really, she was only there because Gustav and Karl thought she had good taste. They represented a multinational company that sometimes subcontracted help when their in-house advertising department was overwhelmed.

Karl had even offered her a job, no sex attached.
 

“What do you think, Elle?” Cunningham asked.

Seventeen heads swiveled her way. She blinked. “I’m… not sure,” she said. “Let me think about it a moment.” She had absolutely no idea what he was referring to.

She wished Jonathan were there; he always took pity on her. Even Nolan would sometimes throw her a lifeline… especially if it meant he’d get to tease her about it later. But Cunningham just
stared
at her, disappointment and annoyance blazing in his dark eyes.

He sighed. “And now that you’ve thought about it?”

Damn.
She opened her mouth to confess that she’d missed the question—after being so very late—but Gustav cleared his throat. “You’re very polite, Elle. Sorry, C, but if she’s not excited about it, I’m out.”

“I didn’t say that,” Elle protested. Cunningham was going to kill her. He must have asked if she thought they could handle the extra workload. “Actually, I think it’s a great idea. There might be some adjustments, but I have no doubt we can handle them.” She smiled and heaved a little sigh of relief.

Cunningham shook his head slightly. “I thought you loved that deli,” he said.
 

Oh. The deli.
She’d fought with Cunningham to get it added to the list of approved catering places. The food was solidly good and not the least bit pretentious, unlike the caterers that Cunningham preferred.

“The deli, yeah,” she said. “What I mean is that I just don’t know if they can come up with enough food on such short notice.”

“Of course they can. It’s what they do,” Cunningham growled. He picked up the phone, pushed a few buttons, and unleashed a torrent of demands at the unfortunate soul on the other end of the line. Elle took in his broad jaw, his Adam’s apple. She knew what he smelled like there, all masculine and yummy, but right now he was plain scary.

Cunningham hung up. “Lunch should be here by noon, and I apologize again for the delay.”

“Not a problem,” Gustav insisted, his thick accent making each word he said as sexy as if he were reading a dirty story aloud. “We weren’t keen on attending our luncheon. You’ve presented us with the perfect excuse.” Even though his words were politic, his natural dominance made Elle feel even guiltier. It took every fiber of her being not to kneel on the floor and beg his forgiveness.
 

What was it about these men that made her instantly submissive?
 

Elle paid close attention for the rest of the meeting. When the caterer arrived with platters of fresh sandwiches, buttery pastries, and brightly colored, fresh-cut fruit, Cunningham ordered his employees to work while they ate. Then he grabbed a platter of sandwiches. “Gustav, Karl, let’s go someplace where we can talk. You too, Elle.” He ran his gaze over the assembled group. “Someone notify Jonathan and Nolan, tell them we’ll be in Room Four. And we’ll need a ruler.”

A ruler?
Elle quickly rose to her feet and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. If Cunningham wanted a ruler, it wasn’t because he needed to draw a straight line or measure something. He intended to punish her.

She followed the three well-dressed men to a smaller conference room. Cunningham placed the platter on the table, then shut the door. “Remove your clothes,” he said.

He hadn’t spoken very loudly, so Elle wasn’t sure that she had heard correctly. Then he grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the table, his grip firm. “Clothes off. You kept these gentlemen waiting, and now you’re going to wait on them.”

Her eyes darted to the clients. Karl was in his early thirties—likely younger than Cunningham—but his thick hair was prematurely graying. If not for that, he could have passed for a decade younger. He had the body of a serious athlete, a tennis player, perhaps, or a swimmer.

He stared pointedly at her mouth, his green eyes filled with eager anticipation. He had nearly choked her with his cock the first few times they met. She was much better at giving head now, and she wondered if her skills had progressed to the point where she’d be able to handle his enthusiasm.
 

“Maybe, if I suck you all, you don’t have to use the ruler,” she pleaded, staring up into Cunningham’s stern face. His lip curled in irritation at her disobedience, and she began to fumble with the bottom of her dress.

“I don’t see that she’s made much improvement as a submissive,” Gustav said. “When was the last time she had a proper spanking?”

Cunningham bristled at the veiled insult. He pulled Elle toward him and yanked the dress off of her, tossing it aside. Elle quickly crossed her arms over her chest, ducking her head so that she could smooth her mussed, staticky hair.

“What do you say, girl?” Cunningham asked.
 

“Thank you, sir, for helping me.” Her voice trembled. He spun her, unhooked her bra and pulled it away. “Thank you, sir,” she said. Her nipples pebbled in the cool room. She sensed Gustav and Karl staring at them, and she knew that underneath their sinfully expensive suits, their cocks were hardening.

“Gentlemen, please have a seat,” Cunningham said.
 

Elle knew better than to sit, so she waited quietly, wondering what Cunningham had in mind.
 

The door opened, and Nolan and Jonathan entered. A dark look crossed Nolan’s face, but Jonathan laughed. “Oh, Elle,” he said. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, embarrassed. Her reaction only made Jonathan laugh again, and she shot him a miserable look. To her relief, she noticed that his hands were empty. Maybe Nolan’s were, too…

Cunningham wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and forced her to bend over. “Think carefully about how you talk to him,” he said. He smacked his wide palm on her ass, catching the curve of her buttock and making her flesh shudder. He pulled her closer and smacked her again, hard, the sound like a gunshot.
 

He stopped at two, though, and she exhaled, closing her eyes, relieved it was already over. But then small, metal teeth bit into her nipples. She looked down and saw that Cunningham had fixed clamps on them. A short, golden chain swung between the cruel devices.
 

He used a single finger to tug the chain downward, and she gasped, tears forming in her eyes. It wasn’t just the pain, which was still tolerable. That Cunningham was punishing her like this, in front of others… she shifted her weight from foot to foot, dancing.

“Be still, Elle,” he said. He pressed a finger into her pussy, his arm warm against her lower back.
 

She sucked in a breath—she smelled him, Cunningham, all power and mystery and
hers
—and held it in until he stepped away. A tear dribbled down her cheek and fell to the floor.
 

Then flat, cold metal brushed against her thighs. Not even a wooden ruler this time. She braced herself but still wasn’t prepared when the ruler’s rigid surface slapped across her buttocks.

Her head came up in pained surprise.

“I told you to be still.” Cunningham raised the metal chain to her mouth. “Open.” When she obeyed, he pressed the chain between her teeth. “Bite down,” he said.

She had to lower her head toward her chest to reverse the tug on her beleaguered nipples. The chain tasted slightly sour. Not something she ever would have willingly put into her mouth.

“Now,” Cunningham said, “let’s try this again.” He tapped the ruler on her ass, then swatted her with a snap of his wrist.
 

She jerked, and when her head came up, she yanked on her nipples and nearly dropped the chain. Her face flushed bright red from the unexpected agony.

Cunningham leaned over her. “I think you’ll find it much easier to be still now,” he whispered into her ear, his tone calm like he was telling her something helpful. Another tear rolled down her face.

Tap.
A light swat.
Tap. Tap.
She breathed through the little stings, knowing that at any second—

The ruler connected with her ass and sent her up on her toes. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced her chin back toward her chest.
 

“Naughty employees who keep their superiors waiting will find themselves disciplined,” Cunningham lectured sternly. He alternated between the little taps and the blows that made her see stars. Tingling warmth collected between her legs, and she felt evidence of her arousal gushing into her panties.

“Now, Elle, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” she squeezed out, the chain clenched between her teeth making her drool. It was so humiliating to be treated like this, reduced to this, in front of her bosses and the clients. “I’ll do better.”

“Very well.” His hand on the back of her neck felt so very right. He gently slid a finger into her mouth and plucked out the chain, then liberated her nipples. She staggered, her knees going weak from the sudden agony as sensation rushed back into her tortured peaks.
 

She loved his control and dominance of her, and the way he always made her do the dirtiest things. He was impossible to please, but she loved trying.

He hauled her up to a standing position and handed the jewelry to Jonathan. Something had changed in the air. Cunningham had established that she was his. Even though she had little doubt that she would sexually serve some—or, more likely, all—of the men in the room, everyone knew that she belonged to Cunningham.

She wondered how Nolan and Jonathan felt about that, but then she recalled what Nolan had said about Cunningham needing to make sure he could keep her. Was this part of it? He would share her. He’d confessed that he was helpless against his compulsion to watch her get fucked by other men. Maybe he could only enjoy it if they also knew that she was his.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, a warm euphoria coursing through her veins.
 

“For what?” Cunningham asked as he sat.

“For teaching me to serve you better.”

He stared at her a moment, then opened a folder. “What would you fellows like to drink?” If her words had pleased him, he hid it.
 

“Cola for us both,” Gustav said. Somehow, he made asking for a soda sexy. It was really unfair.
 

She walked to the side buffet, her back to the men. She was desperately aware of the exposed skin between the top of the stockings and her ass as she opened two bottles and poured the contents into tall, thin glasses. She burned back there, and she wondered if the sight of her reddened buttocks turned them all on.
 

She added a couple of ice cubes to each glass and walked back, wishing her breasts wouldn’t jiggle with each step.
 

She handed one glass to Karl, her breasts too close to his face as she set it down. The last thing she wanted was for anything to brush against her poor nipples. She leaned over even more to reach Gustav, taking care not to touch the table.

“No,” Gustav barked.
 

Startled, she stared at him, all too aware of her nudity, her dangling breasts.

“I asked for cola, not for ice. Ice in your drinks? Don’t you know any better?”
 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She reached over to take the glass back, and Gustav caught one of her nipples between his fingers. Elle’s face went hot as he rolled the nub. Then he tugged hard, pulling her, and she was forced to gracelessly scramble onto the table and crawl toward him.

When she was close enough, he sucked the nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue around the punished flesh. The sensation itself was soothing, but the way he did it made her want to spread her legs for him, offer her body in exchange for leniency and forgiveness. Elle kept her knees together and hoped no one could see that she was soaking her panties. If she’d known all of this was coming, she wouldn’t have chosen a color that would darken when wet.

Jonathan took a seat next to Gustav. “Shift this way, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse and rasping with arousal. He positioned her between them and grabbed her other nipple. She was caught between the two men, but now pulled far out over the edge of the table, unbalanced, and she gripped the ledge tightly as the hungry mouths devoured her.

A warm hand touched her inner thigh and ran up her leg. Fingers caressed her panty-covered sex, and then the fabric was roughly yanked down. Someone shoved a finger inside her, and she gasped as he twisted it, stroking her tight walls.

Hands grabbed her ankles, and her legs were yanked back, making her back hollow out and her ass tip into the air. With a wet smack, Jonathan and Gustav released her nipples, though not before she moaned in discomfort, and then Cunningham flipped her over effortlessly. She grimaced as her weight settled on her bruised rump. He clawed at the garter belt until the snaps yielded, then he disposed of her panties with an audible rip. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, all five men were on their feet, leaning over her, their heads blocking the light.

BOOK: Executive Package
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