The Boss (33 page)

"How does that feel?" he asked, and I let out
a shaky sigh. His eyebrows flicked up. “That good?"

"Very good," I murmured. "I never usually
touch myself like this."

"I find that very difficult to believe." He
reached for his fly and tugged the zipper down. "Considering the
greeting you gave me at the hotel."

I made a noise of impatience, drawing my
fingers along the bottom curves of my breasts. "That's not what I
mean. Most of the time, I just head straight down south."

"Ah." He pulled his penis from his boxers. He
was semi-erect and growing harder as he slowly stroked himself.

My pulse sped up. I'd watched past partners
jerk off before, and it had definitely turned me on. There was
something shocking and intimate about watching a man touch himself.
But they had always been doing it while watching internet porn. Not
one of them had ever jacked off while watching me.

"Take your panties off," he said, gliding his
hand up and down. "Let me see you."

It was with great reluctance that I pulled my
hands from my aching breasts to slide the black lace over my
bottom, up the slope of my bent legs to my knees, and then down. I
knew I was wet, and that he could probably tell, with my legs
spread apart the way they were.

He sighed contentedly. "There. That's what
I've been thinking about all day. I'd love to feel you right
now."

"I can feel me," I teased, reaching down to
press two fingertips into my opening, just a tiny bit.

"I see that." He smiled his half smile,
lazily gliding his hand up and down that big cock.

"I want you," I whimpered, circling my clit.
"This is totally unfair, you know."

"Didn't you wear your hair pulled back
today?" he asked suddenly.

"Y-yeah." Why did that matter?

"Get the rubber band," he said, his hand
stilling. "Let's try something."

I reached across to my nightstand and grabbed
the hair tie, holding it up so he could see. "What exactly are we
trying, here?"

"I'd rather be there to do this to you,
myself, but I suppose since that isn't possible tonight, you'll
have to do it," he said, his voice low and dark with the promise of
something incredible to come. "Put the rubber band around your
first and second fingers, and spread it out."

I did as he ordered, trepidation creeping
into my mind. "I think I know where this is going."

"Do you trust me?" he asked, in that tone I
was so used to obeying.

"Yes, Sir," I answered. "Put the rubber band
against your thigh, and use your other hand to snap it."

I swallowed and placed the stretched hair tie
against the top of my thigh. Neil made an admonishing noise. "Not
there. The inside."

I took a deep breath and moved my hand. The
ponytail holder rested against the curve of my inner thigh, just
above my pussy, and I grasped one side of the elastic, drawing it
up between the thumb and forefinger of my other hand. Mentally
counting to three, I let it go. Smarting pain blossomed in my skin,
nothing I couldn't handle.

"Oh, Sophie, you disappoint me," Neil
scolded. "Harder. Let's see it leave a mark."

I mewled in protest, but I pulled it up
again, further this time, stretching the band tight. When it
slapped back down, I yelped in surprise and watched as pink flushed
my skin around a shocking white welt.

"Very good." Neil was stroking his cock,
rolling the foreskin up and over the head, then back down as he
watched me. "Now, do it again, but this time do it to your
clit."

"Are you nuts?" I laughed in disbelief. "You
want me to snap my clit with a ponytail holder?"

"If I were there, I would do it for you," he
said again, apologetically. "I can give you the command, if you
like."

"That's going to hurt like a motherfucker," I
pointed out.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "But have we done
anything yet that you didn't like?"

"No," I admitted grumpily. To my dismay, I
was aching, throbbing at the thought of that bee-sting of pain.

Damn him for knowing me so well.

"Then do as you’re told," he warned. "Or else
I
won't
take you over my knee. As strange as that threat may
be."

I laughed and took a breath, positioning the
hair tie over my mound. "Like this?"

"No, of course not. Spread yourself
open."

With the two fingers stretching the rubber
band, I parted my labia, exposing the hard button of my straining
clit. I pulled the elastic up and held my breath.

"There. That's not so bad, is it?" He reached
for his glass and took a long swallow.

I shifted my hips, dreading the pain,
dreading the anticipation building inside of me. "I thought we
weren't supposed to be tipsy doing this."

"As I'm not physically doing anything to you,
and you’re sober, I think we're safe." He nodded at me. "Do
it."

I held my breath. Knowing how it would feel,
seeing the evidence of the welt on my thigh, could I do this?

"Sophie." It was a warning. I was expected to
do as my Sir commanded. A thrill shot through me. When we were
together, I would do anything for him. And knowing that only made
me hotter for him.

I made a helpless noise of fear as I released
the elastic. It snapped hard against my straining clit, and the
resulting shock of pain cause me to gasp and jerk my hand away.

"No, no," he told me. "Don't move. Don't
close your legs."

I wanted to squeeze my thighs shut to ease
the burn. Holding them open prolonged the pain, and, strangely,
intensified the pleasure I'd gotten from it.

"Again," he ordered.

It was more difficult the second time. I knew
what it would feel like, the sharp sting, the lingering ache. But I
also knew the pleasure behind it, the relief of receiving a touch,
even a painful one, on my needy, tortured flesh. I let the elastic
snap again and restrained my cry, so it became a high- pitched,
thin noise behind my closed lips.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?" he
asked. "You want to press your hand over yourself and ease that
pain."

"I do, Sir," I panted. It took real physical
strength to keep my fingers from straying.

"You may. Until I tell you to stop."

I pushed my fingertips over my clit, groaning
my relief, rubbing soothing circles over my tortured flesh. The
aftermath of the pain had left me oddly numb, though I knew that I
should be aroused by my touch. Soon, though, as the sting faded and
my fingers picked up their pace, I could feel everything just fine.
I lifted my hips a little, rocking against my hand.

"I think that's enough." Neil's voice opened
my eyes, though I hadn't even realized I'd closed them.
Reluctantly, I pulled my fingers away.

"Do you want to come, Sophie?" he asked. I
couldn't take my eyes off the image of his cock on the screen. I
felt so utterly empty. The thought that I would have to wait until
the end of the week to be with him, that we would have to be in the
same building every day and not be able to touch each other... I
wanted to cry.

Instead, I whimpered, "Yes, Sir."

"All right. Three more with the rubber band,
for a nice even five. Then I would say you'd earned it." His smile
was deliciously malicious, and my cunt clenched on aching
emptiness.

I squeaked in outrage. "Five isn't an even
number! Why not two more, for four?"

"Why not four more, for six?" he asked,
raising an eyebrow.

I looked away to roll my eyes and laugh. I
really, really wanted to refuse, to rebel against the command I
didn't like, yet at the same time... I really wanted to do as he
said. In fact, I loved doing it. I would drop him in a heartbeat if
he ever tried to order me around outside the bedroom the way he did
in it, but it really pushed my buttons. It apparently even worked
when we weren't in the same zip code.

"Fine," I muttered. "Three more."

Taking a deep breath, I positioned the
ponytail holder and stretched it up, waiting for him to tell me
when.

"You can't possibly understand how much I
want you." He stroked up his erection, pausing to squeeze the head,
then slowly back down.

"I think can," I panted, wetting my lips.
Every part of me felt swollen and achy, from my lips to my breasts
to my cunt. I wanted to come, and I knew I wouldn't until he was
good and ready.

I wondered what he would do if I
"accidentally" let the elastic slip from my fingers. Would he tell
me I couldn't come? Would I be able to come, if he forbade me? Or
would some crazy part of my brain just cut off the ability to
orgasm based on his disapproval alone? The fact that I honestly
didn't know scared me a little bit. Which in turn only aroused me
more.

My god, he was right. I was really good at
being submissive.

"I want to feel your pussy, the wet grip of
you around my fingers." He took a shuddering breath. "Around my
cock."

My clit quivered. My voice did, too. "I want
that, too. I want you to fill me up. Wear me out."

He gave me a slow, enigmatic smile before
saying, "Do it."

I gasped when the band snapped me, a direct
strike that caught the hood of my clitoris and sent razor-sharp
shocks of pain down my legs.

"That's one," Neil reminded me. "Are you
wet?"

"Dripping, Sir." God, I wanted to be there
with him, to be on my knees in front of him, begging to suck his
cock.

"Show me," he urged, his hand picking up
speed as I parted myself and pushed two fingers into my cunt. I
withdrew them and held up the evidence of my desire, shining wetly
in the blue light of the computer screen.

"I wish I could taste you. Do it for me,
Sophie. Taste yourself."

I slipped my fingers between my lips, sucked
them clean with a throaty moan. “Someone told me once that I taste
like pineapple,” I mused aloud. “I don’t agree.”

“Neither do I.” He sounded almost offended at
the notion. “If I wanted pineapple, I would eat pineapple. When I
eat pussy, I’d prefer it taste like pussy. And yours is
fantastic.”

“Oh god.” I shivered. “I might just come from
the sound of your voice.”

"You’d better not. Now, another snap, I
think."

This time, I couldn't help my cry. My flesh
was on fire, wanting to be touched, dreading the pain all the same.
And I still had one to go. Neil switched hands, reaching up to
swiftly undo the buttons of his shirt. "When you come, I want you
to remember who makes you feel this way. Who is that?"

"You, Sir," I gasped. I needed to come. I had
to. I would do anything, say anything. "You turn me on. You make me
come. Just you."

"One more and then I'll let you come," he
promised, and his voice skated down my nerve endings like a caress.
"Just once more."

I pulled the elastic up again, let it fall,
and that was all it took. The pain lanced through me, but it was
the touch of the wrapped band that shot me over the precipice. My
clenching pussy made obscene sounds, my hips lifting, seeking his
body even though he wasn’t there. Mingled chills of pain and
pleasure warred on my skin, and I curled up from the bed, moaning.
I knew he could see my cunt pulsing, my pelvis rocking against the
mattress, my clit ruby red from arousal and shock. I fell back on
the pillows, too exhausted to wipe away the tears of grateful
relief that rolled from the corners of my eyes. I watched my
computer screen, mesmerized, as Neil came with a groan, cum arcing
onto his stomach, rolling down the backs of his fingers.

I could barely move. My clit and labia
throbbed, and when I felt myself there I was hot and swollen, sharp
welts raised in thin lines over my most delicate parts. And if he
had asked me to, I would have done five more. Ten. Maybe it was
better that he knew my limits and wouldn't push them too far.

Clearly, I couldn't be trusted.

* * * *

The next morning,
at the office, I was idly testing out beeswax lipsticks on the back
of my hand when India stuck her head in.

"You guys, get out here." Something about her
tone set me on immediate alert.

I looked to Jessica. "What's going on?"

"No idea." But she was already sliding off
her stool and heading for the door.

Everyone was gathered on the main office
floor. Jessica and I slunk to an unoccupied section of wall. Rudy
stood in the center of the room, casting his unreadable gaze on
everyone in the vicinity. "I hope we're all here," he called out,
over the hushed whispers. "Because this is a very big
announcement."

Neil stood in the main aisle that ran down
the middle of the room. He wore a sleek black jacket over a gray
shirt, the collar unbuttoned, and he watched as the last stragglers
came in from the stairwell and side offices. He waited for the room
to quiet further before he addressed us.

"I want to thank you all for a fantastic
issue. I am truly impressed at the way you all adapted to the
changes we’ve made so far. In light of what you’ve accomplished so
far, I have the utmost confidence that you’ll handle future changes
just as well.

“Unfortunately, in one very important aspect,
fashion doesn't seem willing to change. Many of you have been
working closely with Rudy. You know his pedigree, from costuming to
runway to journalism. He knows, probably better than most in this
office, how difficult it can be to break new ground. So I trust his
opinion in this matter, and I hope you do, as well.”

It was brief, but I noticed a hint of
annoyance flicker across Rudy’s face. Something was happening
there.

Neil continued, “As a fashion institution,
Porteras
has the opportunity to force some change in an area
where it is definitely needed. That's why, for our February issue,
and every issue thereafter,
Porteras
will not feature any
fur, any leather, any product that cannot be described as
'cruelty-free.' And we will not feature the work of any designer
who includes these elements in his or her collections.”