The Boss (26 page)

My closet was just a pipe that wasn’t
supposed to bear weight.

"Why don't you take that dress off?" he
suggested, settling back and resting one ankle atop his opposite
knee.

"I thought I was getting a present," I
reminded him.

"You will. I'd like mine first." He braced
his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled the tips of his
fingers. "It's not a request. Take off the dress."

A shiver raced down my spine. God, I loved
following instructions.

I reached behind me for the zipper, conscious
that he could see my every movement in the reflection behind me.
Because of this, I posed my hand, reaching under the zipper as
though I were plucking a berry, and slowly drew it down. The room
was so quiet that I could hear every tooth part and the whisper of
the tulle as I pushed the fabric from my shoulders. I gave a little
wriggle, and the dress fell free, revealing my black lace overlay
corset.

"Who did you wear that for?" he asked, his
deep voice warning that there was only one right answer.

"For you, Sir." My breasts swelled over the
top of the corset as I took a deep breath.

"And you didn't wear any panties? Was that
also for me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell me why." He fixed me with his intense
green gaze, almost predatory.

I wet my lips, my pulse pounding between my
legs, my pussy flooding with every beat. "Because... I wanted to
make it easy for you. I wanted you to be able to touch me."

"You don't have to make it easy for me." He
looked my body up and down, and it was like a physical caress. "If
I wanted you, I could have you. We both know that."

"Yes, Sir." He would find no argument from
me. Not when I felt like this; all I wanted was to please him. "Any
time. Anywhere."

I could say that, and mean it with my entire
soul, without fear of reproach. We could surrender ourselves to
each other when it was a game. He could give himself wholly to me,
through his control, and I would own him as much as he owned
me.

"Come here." He crooked a finger at me, and I
obeyed easily, walking toward him until he held up a hand to stop
me. "That's far enough."

He reached out with two fingers and traced
the neatly trimmed line of hair on my mound, down my slit, parting
me, skimming over my already inflamed flesh. "Tell me again... when
can I have this?"

"Any time, Sir." I took a breath, knowing my
request would be denied before I even uttered it. "Now, Sir."

He took his hand away. Just like I knew he
would. He stood, putting his arms around me to gently turn me,
until I faced our reflections in the mirror. He held my gaze in the
glass, one hand splayed possessively across my stomach over the
corset. With his other hand he stroked my hair back from my bare
shoulder, his touch lingering on my skin. He reached into the
corset, his fingers kneading my breast beneath the satin lining,
pulling my nipple free to peek above the black lace. "You are
perfection, Sophie."

I whimpered as he circled my nipple with his
thumb. He swirled it over the peak, further puckering my skin and
raising gooseflesh on my arms.

"I think you're ready for your presents now,"
he murmured against my neck. "Take this off. Leave the stockings
and heels. I'll be right back."

He left me in the closet, moving off to
somewhere in the bedroom. I unhooked the front of the corset and
let it fall, frowning at the red indentations it had left on my
skin. Ah well, if it didn't bother him to leave red marks on my
ass, it wouldn't bother him to see my clothes leaving them
everywhere else. I snickered at that, and from the doorway Neil
asked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." I shrugged. "Just giddy with
anticipation."

He raised an eyebrow at me, his gaze dropping
to my exposed breasts for a moment before he held up my present.
Or, presents, plural, since he held an item in each hand. In his
left, a broad, leather-covered paddle about the size of a small
cutting board; in his right, an open jewelry box holding two long,
tweezer-like clamps with delicate black beads dangling from
them.

"Oh." I took a deep breath at the sight. I'd
heard about stuff like this before, and seen it on the internet in
some very enlightening videos, but I never really thought I would
get a chance to try it out. I'd never been entirely sure that my
previous partners wouldn't make fun of me for expressing an
interest.

Now, here was a partner who not only wouldn't
laugh, but who'd taken the initiative to make one of my fantasies a
reality. Even though he couldn't have possibly known.

He set the box and paddle on the shelf below
his suit jackets. "You're not running away, that's
encouraging."

"I wouldn't leave right now if this place
were on fire." I pressed my thighs together. "Please, Neil."

"Turn around." His voice was suddenly gruff,
and that only made me hotter. "What are you to call me?"

"Sir," I purred, unable to stop the giddy
smile that broke across my face.

I gave a sideways glance to the mirror and
saw him smiling to himself, too, as he pulled the clamps from their
black velvet bed. "Can I trust you to keep your eyes open?"

I shivered. "Yes, Sir."

"If you keep your eyes open, I will let you
come before we leave this room. If you close them, I'll make you
wait a very, very long time. Do you understand?"

"What about blinking, Sir?"

He swatted my behind lightly. "Obviously
blinking is allowed. But I want you to see yourself coming,
Sophie."

"Oh." My chest jerked with my sudden
breath.

He lifted one of the nipple clamps and slid
the ring down to adjust the tension. Though the clamps were open as
wide as they could go, they still dug firmly into my nipple when he
pushed them into place. The tightness was immediate and intense,
but he slowly slid the ring toward my nipple, one tiny push at a
time. "Tell me when it's too much."

I was sorely tempted to say "when!" and call
the whole thing off, but once the initial shock of the new
sensation wore off, I found myself wondering with a sort of
perverted curiosity how much I could take. I groaned as the tension
grew, felt my eyes fluttering closed, but then I remembered his
warning, and what he'd promised.

The deep, burning pinch grew too
uncomfortable, and I gasped, "too much," before he released some of
the tension, just a bit. Then, with the same careful attention, he
repeated the process on the other side. When I looked in the
mirror, I saw my nipples, dark red between the black pinchers of
the clamps, and felt the motion of the dangling jewels in my
swollen, aching breasts.

He lifted the jewels of one clip with his
index finger. "Do you like them?"

I nodded. The sensations they caused were so
keen and bizarre. While they did hurt, it wasn't an unbearable
pain, and the tips of my nipples, caught between the long, slender
teeth of the clamps, were already more eager, pleading to be
touched. When he let go of the jewel, the swinging motion of even
that slight weight seemed to shudder through my whole body. He
spread his hand and touched me lightly with just the fleshy pads
below his fingers, slowly brushing back and forth over my aching
nipple. Even that gentle caress seemed like lightning through
me.

He lifted my breasts in his hands, bent his
head to flick his tongue over the throbbing points constrained by
the clamps. I gasped at the amplified feeling, the familiar pull
that made my cunt grasp helplessly. But all too soon, he let me go,
to stand there full and heavy and aching as he looked me over.

"Would you like to come now, Sophie?" he
asked, cupping my cheek and tilting my head up to look into my
eyes.

"Yes, please, Sir." Was that my voice, all
needy and tremulous? Could that really be me?

He pulled me against him, his soft sweater
like briars against my oversensitive breasts. I imagined them
swelling, filling, growing ripe like peaches straining at their own
skin. He stepped back and pulled his sweater over his head, and I
wanted him to embrace me again, to bring our naked skin together.
Instead, he dropped to his knees before me, reminding me, "Keep
your eyes open, or I'll stop."

Parting me with his thumbs, he leaned forward
and swiped his tongue over my straining clit. A long moan of relief
tore from my throat, and my eyes began to slide closed, but I
stopped myself, fixing my gaze on our reflection. On his big hand
grasping my thigh through the stretched black silk of my stocking.
On his tongue curling out to taste me, his lower lip dragging over
my engorged flesh as he sucked my clit into his mouth.

He drove me crazy tapping with his tongue one
moment, licking in long, steady strokes the next. He growled
against me, his fingers sinking into my thigh as he jerked my leg
over his shoulder. I couldn’t move away from him, not without
falling on my ass; I had to trust him to hold me up, because I
couldn’t do it myself at the moment.

I stared, transfixed at the image in the
mirror. There was the man who so overwhelmed me with his sexual
power that I would do anything he asked. His hands and mouth were
on me, giving me pleasure because it pleased him, because in that
moment I was the center of his world. He wanted me. He wanted to
control me, to possess me, to make me surrender to him completely
and take all that he had to offer. Yet at the same time he was
kneeling before me, worshipping me, as enslaved to me as I was to
him.

And that was when I realized. I had fallen
for him completely.

It was my relief at finally acknowledging it
that triggered my climax, and I sank my fingers into his hair,
holding him to me, holding on for dear life as my cunt spasmed and
my nipples throbbed. He held me up with his arms wrapped around my
thighs, and I braced myself with my hands on his shoulders, never
letting my eyes drift closed for a moment, taking in every detail
the mirror could show me.

Neil looked up, and I looked down at him, my
heart squeezing in the vise grip of his gorgeous green eyes. "Are
you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm..." I took a breath and reached
for one of the clamps, sliding the ring down and slipping it
off.

"No-" he warned, moving to stop me, but it
was too late. The blood rushed back into my sensitive tissue, and
it seemed to have brought its friend the knife gang with it. I
grasped my breast and winced in pain, trying to ignore the fact
that he was plainly trying to cover up his shocked amusement at the
situation.

"Oh, Sophie, I'm so sorry, I should have
warned you before," he covered his mouth with one hand, his eyes
squinted shut from laughter.

"You should have warned me that my tits were
going to die?" I whined plaintively, but I laughed, because he was
laughing and I knew this would probably seem funny an hour from
now. "Shut up," I giggled in pain.

"Here." He brushed my hand away and bent his
head to my other breast, slowly sliding the ring on the clamp back
a little bit at a time. As the tension eased, he lowered his mouth
over my tortured flesh, laving me with his tongue until I was
gasping. It still hurt like a bastard, but it was an amazingly good
pain, lessened remarkably under the gentle suction of his mouth.
When the rubberized tips of the clamps released my nipple, it
didn't feel nearly as bad as it had with the other one.

"There," he said, lifting his head to brush
his lips across mine. "All better?"

The tenderness in his voice, in the way his
hand skimmed up and down my arm, felt like a fist to my ribs.

"Y-yeah," I managed, my pulse skipping
erratically.

I was fine. Better than fine. I was in love
with my boss.

And I was totally fucked.

Chapter
Fourteen

There are times
when it's appropriate to do the big relationship confrontation
moment.

When you're lying across your boss's lap,
naked except for high heels and thigh highs, getting your arms tied
together with jute rope... that's not the right time.

It had taken me all of five seconds to decide
what I was going to do with this whole being in love with Neil
thing. I was going to ignore it. Not because I thought I could make
it all go magically away, but because there was no need to rush
into anything. He'd made it clear to me that our arrangement was
monogamous, and he wasn't in the market for an actual dating
relationship. There was no ticking clock on our attraction, so the
pressure was off, more or less.

Besides, in love with someone or not, I had
sincerely meant it when I'd told him that I wasn't ready to share
my life with anyone. I liked spending time with Neil, but I also
liked having my own space, autonomy to make my own decisions, and
freedom to come and go as I pleased. In a real relationship, you
had to take the other person's time and the investment of their
feelings into consideration. I didn’t think I could do that right
now. Besides, I wasn't sure where Neil stood on the relationship
front anymore.

Instead of running out of his apartment
screaming in terror from my emotions, I decided I'd stay, and have
a damned good time with him.

"This should keep your hands out of the way,"
he explained as he looped and layered the rope to make a kind of
braided sleeve around my forearms. I was positioned with my hands
at the opposite elbows, my arms bent Barbie-style behind my back.
He continued, pausing occasionally in his speech as he concentrated
on the rope, "There is a danger... of an inexperienced participant
reaching a hand back rather than using the safe word. The last
thing I'd want is to accidentally… swat your poor fingers."

He bent his head and kissed the palm of one
of my hands, then patted my bottom. "How does that feel?"