30
Trevor needs a strict disciplining.
I stare at Ben, my furious muscle god in a fitted suit and hot pink tie, my obsession, my boss. “What … What do you mean?”
“This report,” he states, lifting it off his desk with one hand and giving it a hearty backhanded swat with the other, “is entirely too damned perfect for my liking. I mean, this staple in the corner here? It’s goddamned immaculate.”
“Is … Is this a joke? Are we joking right now?”
He tosses the report I spent two hours on to the side like it means nothing, then pushes himself off the desk, approaching me. “My worse problem, however, is you.”
I smirk defiantly. “Oh yeah?”
He stops right in front of me. “Yeah.”
I look up into his eyes. They fucking crush me up. I’ve wanted him so bad and for so long. He stands close enough to me that his every breath crashes over my face.
“That tie,” he growls.
I clutch my tie. “What about it?”
Without warning, he hooks a finger into the neck of it, gives it one deft jerk, and then it’s pulled off with the ease of a ribbon on a birthday present. “It’s against dress code. It’s got to go.”
My heart starts racing. “Ben …”
“And that tight shirt?” He starts to circle me like he’s king of the jungle, sizing up his challenger. “It’s the same shirt you wore at least three times since last week. It’s the same shirt that shows your cute little pecs—and nipples when the office is cold.”
“Ben.” I’m almost at a whisper, my heart thumping so loud I’m afraid I won’t hear someone if they were to knock or just walk right in.
“I turn down the temperature sometimes, just for your sexy nips.” Ben continues to circle me. “That shirt has got to go. It is too fucking tight. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Ben …”
“I’m your boss. I’m not Ben. Take off your shirt.”
I swallow so hard, it feels like I’m literally trying to swallow my heart back down into my chest. I glance nervously at the blinds, which are perfectly shut and show nothing through them.
He stops right in front of me, his eyes pressing down upon me. “Take. Off. Your. Shirt.”
When I meet Ben’s eyes, suddenly I find my courage. It’s just us. It’s the moment in his apartment that I was looking for. It’s the dream I’ve had every night for over a week.
Benjamin is the first, last, and only thing in my spank bank.
I start tugging on the buttons of my shirt, freeing them one at a time. Soon, my sleeves loosen, and then I let the shirt slip down my shoulders. It drops to the floor so softly, I don’t hear it.
I lift a defiant eyebrow. “Satisfied?”
“Oh, I’m not done with you,” he growls. “I’m far, far, far from being done with you.” He begins slowly circling around me once again, his eyes running down my body like a set of invasive hands. “Mmm-mmm-mmm,” he groans, surveying every inch of me. “You got a lot of nerve, intern.”
“Nerve?”
“To wear pants like that in my presence.” He comes to a stop behind me and slaps my ass so hard, I suppress a shout. I swear, he spanks me so hard that my ass spanks him back. “So tight. So cruel and inviting. You deserved that spank.”
I don’t care at all what’s happening outside this office. I don’t care what anyone can hear through the glass or the door. Let them hear Ben swat my tight ass. “I deserved that spank.”
“How dare you wear those pants to work all week,” he growls, coming back around to my front. I don’t move a muscle. “You did it on purpose, knowing how much it tortures me to see your firm, cute ass in them. I can count your ass cheeks.”
“Spoiler alert: everyone has two.”
For that lip, he hooks a finger into the front of my pants and pulls me as he moves backwards, bringing me right up to the front of his desk. Then he steps aside and bends me over the edge of his desk with such quick, unexpected force that I grunt and fling out my hands to support myself.
He comes up behind me, his crotch pressing against my ass. I feel his hardness through the material. It feels like we’re not even wearing anything, for as defined as his cock is and, apparently, as much “separation” as my pants are giving my ass cheeks.
It’s not lost on me that he’s moving his hips, too. It’s driving me crazy, the way he’s slowly grinding himself against my butt.
“You’re being a bad boy,” he whispers, and just the sound of his breathy words fills the whole room. “These pants are very, very bad. And they’ve got to go.”
I have no idea when or how he unbuckled my belt or undid the buttons to my pants, but when he grips them, he pulls so hard that they fall straight down my thighs and pool at my feet.
And my underwear goes right with them.
His fingers grabbed it all.
The nervousness has returned, filling my chest with fear, and my ears with my ringing pulse. “B-Ben …”
“Someone could come in?” he asks, positing my fears. “You’re basically naked, totally exposed and bent over my desk, and you think someone is going to have the audacity to stroll right into my office?” He humps my butt again, except this time I really feel him now. Ben slaps his hands on the desk, one on either side of me, then leans in to bring his lips to my ear. “Does it turn you on?”
My answer surprises me to the core. “Y-Yes.”
“You like the excitement, don’t you? You’re a thrill junkie, just like me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“This makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before?” He gives my earlobe a tiny, teasing nip. “Being bent over for me is fulfilling hot fantasies you didn’t even know you had? Smelling the oaky wood of my desk? Enjoying my big bulge against your sweet ass? Feeling my every word crash over your ear right now and making you shiver with need?”
“G-God, yes,” I breathe, my voice quivering.
“I have some good news … and some bad news for you.” He kisses my ear, sending chills down my neck. Then he starts to kiss a line down my back as he speaks. “The good news is, what I’m about to do to you is going to feel very, very good.”
I moan, gripping the desk tightly. He is totally undoing me bit by bit, kiss by kiss, as he makes his way slowly down my back.
“The bad news is,” he murmurs, kissing the small of my back, “you will have a very, very difficult time keeping quiet.”
My body clenches and my eyes go wide. My mind races with all the possibilities. This can’t be how he takes my virginity, can it? He wouldn’t dare take it from me like this—bent over his desk, deprived of dignity, stripped of all my clothes, and exposed to the cold office air.
Why does that possibility turn me on so much?
Then his kisses lead to the top of my ass. My lips part with a breathless gasp when I realize where he’s heading.
“Ben …” I breathe. “Y-You can’t …”
“I can,” he hisses, cutting me off. “And if you ever plan to lose your virginity, I think you’re going to need a little warming up.”
He runs the flat of his tongue up one of my cheeks.
I flinch, surprised by the smooth sensation. Oh, God …
“You taste so fucking sweet,” I hear him whisper from between my legs before he goes for my other ass cheek, licking it from the very bottom to the very top.
I bite my lip and cling to the desk, my cock throbbing as it points between my legs, hard and in perfect view, inches from his face. With my legs spread as they are, my ass, cock, and balls are totally exposed to Benjamin and at his total mercy.
I’ve never felt more objectified than I do right now.
And I love it.
Then his tongue runs along the underside of my balls. I suck in a breath of air, my legs and thighs pulling taut at the cool, slick, almost-tickling sensation of his tongue as it slowly runs up, up, up until it reaches my hole. The sensitivity is so strong and makes me so crazy, I can barely stand it. Just this one long, slow lick might be enough to make me fall apart, cry, and orgasm all at once.
Then he does it all over again.
I’m clawing at the desk. He’s gripping my thighs, so my legs have no chance of closing. Bent over his desk, I can’t escape the overwhelming sensations happening between the underside of my balls and my sensitive, exposed hole.
And then Ben does it again. Licking slow, long, and firmly.
“Oh my God, Ben,” I groan, my voice jagged.
He never stops. He is relentless, knowing how maddening this is for me, doing what he’s doing, making me desperate for more, making me long for his tongue to reach its destination, making me so turned on that I feel wetness at the tip of my throbbing, flexed, achingly hard cock.
Then he brings his lick higher, running along my hole.
I tighten right up, gasping.
“Mmm,” he moans, his breaths casting cool waves of delight over my now-wet balls. “You’re so fucking tight. And you taste so sweet … and clean … and perfect.”
There is something so invasive about how he describes how I taste. Maybe it’s how he holds my legs apart, trapping me in this totally exposed position. Maybe it’s how his door is unlocked and anyone might come in. Maybe it’s the way he speaks with his lips less than an inch from my butthole, like I’m just a piece of ass to him. What a piece of heaven this is right now, to be Benjamin Gage’s toy.
He doesn’t use his hands to separate my ass cheeks. He just pushes his face right in, meeting my hole with his wet lips and his wetter tongue. My mouth is frozen open, my jaw grinding against the desk as I let out a silent scream of wild delight.
His tongue laps at my hole in slow, measured licks. One long, flat-tongued lap at a time, he drives me insane and makes all of my muscles clench tighter with joy, anticipation, and desperate need.
The licking never stops. I can’t find any new ways to squirm; I’ve tried moving and flexing and pushing and pulling every single muscle I have on my body, but I can’t get away from the relentless, agonizingly perfect pleasure he’s forcing me to endure. It’s a kind of pleasure that is barely not enough, and yet overwhelmingly too much. And while I teeter on the brink of insanity, I’m at his total whim, suffering every beautiful, squirming second of it.
I’m dripping. I feel my cock letting loose drop after drop of pre-cum, unaware and uncaring of where it’s all landing. In his lap? On the floor? Down the front of his desk?
He’s turned my cock into a pre-cum factory, slowly churning drip after desperate drip, stream after stream of frustrated, sticky anticipation.
If he touches my cock—and I mean literally touches it—I just might nut all over him.
Then, just when I think I can get used to the asshole torment he’s putting me through, his tongue pushes at the hole.
And enters me.
“Ben, Ben, Ben …” I let out involuntarily, my eyes shaking, wet, crazed. I thought I’d felt it all; I was horribly wrong. “Oh my God, Ben.”
His lips wet, his mouth all in my ass, he barely pulls away an inch to murmur, “Told you you’d have trouble keeping quiet,” against my ass before darting out his tongue once again, slow and sensual, as it slips right back into my hole, tunneling in.
Everything is so wet down there—his lips, his twirling tongue, his nose. His whole face slides right into my crack with such ease, invading me. My whole ass is slippery from all his relentless and muscular activity down there, working my crack and my hole over with his frustratingly, agonizingly, devilishly skilled tongue. And even if I wanted to squirm, I can’t, because he still grips my legs so powerfully that I can’t move.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I might be able to come like this. I’ve never been so stimulated before that I’m just a second away from being thrown into a full-on rage.
And his tongue keeps probing without end. Ben has started to push his face so deeply into my ass that I’m rocking back and forth, much like I imagine I’d rock if he were actually fucking me.
Well, I guess he sort of is.
With his tongue.
When Ben lets go of my thighs, I think he’s about to rise and do something else to me. But his face never leaves my ass, which is both the best news and the worst torment.
Until his slippery fingers wrap around my swollen hard cock, and I learn the meaning of a whole new torment.
“Ben, I could come, I could come …” I warn him, pushing out the words in tiny tufts of breath, urgently. “C-Careful … I could come …”
Again, he pulls his face away just a fraction of an inch to say, “You aren’t coming until I say, intern.”
Then his hand moves.
A lightning bolt of sensations courses down my whole body, filling me with such instant pleasure that I’m forced to bring a fist to my mouth and bite down to stifle my moan of ecstasy.
“You ever been milked before?” he murmurs against my ass, all his words drifting over the coolness and the wetness of my completely exposed hole and ass cheeks.
“No!” I answer in half a hiss, half a scream muffled by my fist.
“You’re in for a very, very cruel punishment, intern.”
Then his tongue gets right back to work probing my ass.
And his hand slowly strokes my slippery cock. It’s made all the more slippery by my pre-come, which his hand slowly gathers as he strokes the whole length of my throbbing cock from base to tip, base to tip, base to tip—slowly, tortuously, tightly.
The swelling of pleasure between my cock, my sensitive balls, and my exposed asshole that Benjamin is still sensuously plunging his tongue into is quickly becoming too much to take. Something has to come out of me to relieve the insane pressure—Benjamin’s tongue, Benjamin’s hand on my cock, or the cum inside me that threatens to pop the grenades that have become of my balls.
I mean, I’m so fucking ready to come that my balls are pulled up as high as a fraternity pledge’s tighty whities on hazing day.
And isn’t that what this is? My belated hazing to the office by the big bad boss who wants to teach me a lesson? A lesson in getting your cock slowly milked while his tongue is plunged up your pucker like a spelunker on the hunt for the fountain of youth?
The hand that currently fists my cock starts to gain speed and, to my utter delight and horror, starts only jerking the head of my cock, twisting and twirling and massaging.
Now I’m truly going insane.
The inevitable point of no return rushes toward me quickly, regardless of the agonizingly slow pace in which he’s jerking me. The frustration has built up far too strong. I’m grinding my teeth so hard I can taste my brain.
“I’m gonna come,” I warn him in a groan.
His answer comes in the form of pressing his face even deeper into my ass, his tongue reaching an all new depth in my hole, completely penetrating me.
My legs tighten up, threatening to buckle.
My balls squeeze.
My knuckles bleed white as I cling like a rock climber to the desk, part my quivering lips, and cry out my release.
I come hard. And it is endless.
And Ben is merciless, squeezing and twisting his fist at the end—only the end—of my cock as I erupt wave after wave of the come I’ve built up inside.
It doesn’t seem to stop, coming and coming and coming.
And coming.
My body is milked all the worse by Benjamin’s insistence to not pull out of my ass, tonguing me and lapping at my crack while I empty all over the floor, or down the front of the desk, or on Benjamin’s clothes—I have no idea where I spewed all my spunk.
“I’m going to get every last drop out of you,” he promises from between my ass cheeks. “Every. Last. Drop.”
When the waves of orgasm finally recede, I feel like I just came enough to fill the whole damned floor.
And still Benjamin twists and works the head of my cock like a doorknob. It starts to grow too sensitive—way too sensitive.
“B-Ben …” I say, trying to rise off of the desk.
His free hand slaps onto my lower back, shoving me right back down onto the desk. “You will be done,” he murmurs into my ass, “when I say you’re done.”
After just a few seconds of his fist working my hypersensitive cock, I start to squirm—really squirm. But fight as I might, Ben holds me in place with his face buried in my ass, his hand on my back, and his other twisting and jerking my cock.
He won’t let me get free from this post-orgasm torment.
And somehow, I love it. It’s like the orgasm that never ends, even though I’ve stopped coming and the sensation is too much. I squirm against him because whatever he’s doing in my ass still feels so good, despite my growingly desperate need for him to stop stroking my sensitive cockhead.
Then, finally, I feel the sweet reprieve of his face pulling out of my ass and his hand letting go. I only experience a short moment of missing his touch before his hands grip my hips and flip me around to face him. My naked, half-wet, wholly-spent body faces his fully clothed one. He smirks down at me, smug, triumphant, proud of the mess he’s made of me.
As he stares at me, he lifts his hand up to his mouth. My cum hangs from his fingers. I watch as he closes his eyes, slowly brings a finger to his lips, and tastes me. He seems to savor the taste, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile as he slowly licks his hand clean of me, his tongue working in much the same way I imagine it worked on my ass.
“So unsafe,” I mutter.
His eyes flip open. “Oh? You’re calling this unsafe, virgin?”
My face is still flushed from everything we just did, and I am still catching my breath. “Eating the cum off your fingers from a guy you’ve only known for two weeks?”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“And even though I’m a virgin, I still might’ve messed around with guys before,” I point out. “And also—”
He takes a step toward me, his clothed body pressing against my sweaty naked one. “Am I really getting a lecture on safe sex after having my face buried in your tight, wet ass?”
I bite my lip, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I … was just …”
Then, unexpectedly, he pulls me in for a hug. Apparently he’s not afraid of my sweatiness, or my wetness, or any cum that might still be on my cock. He presses me against him, holding me tightly against the cage of his muscular body.
In my ear, he says, “Break time’s over. Get your clothes back on. You have work to do.”
I grin despite myself. He lets me go, and I crouch down to gather my clothes off the floor. When I pull up my underwear, it feels cool to the touch of my body. Having the wetness of all our activity still on me as I dress is strangely erotic to me, like I’m wearing our depravity.
Just as I’m slipping on my tie, he comes up to my front and, grabbing the tie out of my grip, starts to put it on for me. I let him, my cheeks warming as I gaze up into his eyes while he slowly, caringly, gently does my tie. When he pulls it through the hoop and draws it up to my neck, his eyes flit to mine and scorch me all over again.
That’s where it all began: in those gorgeous eyes of his.
“Now get back to work,” he tells me, his tone soft and sweet, “and don’t let me see you turning in bad work ever again, intern.”
I bite my lip to suppress a grin. “Yes, sir.”
When I leave his office, I’m surprised to find no curious or suspicious eyes on me. It’s like no one even remembers that I was called to his office. The table is empty when I return to it, so I assume the previous task got completed by Elijah and Ashlee while I was occupied.
You know, occupied being rimmed and milked by my boss.
After all that sensitive milking of my cock, I face a sudden and urgent need to take a leak. Scurrying to the bathroom, I stand at one of the urinals and let loose. There’s nothing quite like a good, strong peeing after such a hard and bodily come. It’s almost better than the relief of orgasm.
Liar, I tease myself, then smile at the wall.
My smile dies a quick death when the bathroom door opens, there’s footsteps, and then Brady appears at the urinal right next to mine.
Thankfully, I’m finished and don’t need to endure any smug or condescending glance from the pompous punk. I flush and go to the sink, washing my hands thoroughly. Brady finishes just as fast and then occupies the sink next to mine.
“Enjoy your lecture in Mr. Gage’s office?” asks Brady.
I turn my face away, roll my eyes, then twist off the sink and go for the paper towels. “Always learning,” I answer smugly. And quite a “lecture” it was, if he only knew. The thought makes me grin.
He joins me at the paper towels, drying his hands. “Nice tie.”
“Thanks.”
“Wasn’t it a loose Kelvin knot this morning?”
I freeze, my grin crumbling, and then I face him. “What?”
Brady studies me skeptically for a second, an air of feigned calmness and innocence in his eyes, then he shrugs. “Perhaps I got it wrong and your tie was always knotted in such a clean, crisp Full Windsor.” Then he tosses his crumpled up paper at the trash and eyes me again, coolly. “Good day, Trevor.”
The door swishes softly on his way out. I turn to myself in the mirror, a hand going up to my tie. Is it sad that I don’t know what either knot looks like?
Should I be worried? I tighten my jaw. Fuck no. Brady’s got nothing on you. Screw that self-satisfied sack of perfect hair.
With a jolt of confidence I likely don’t deserve, I push out of the bathroom and hunt for a free computer, figuring I can jump in on some of the daily work we’re always assigned. I find a computer right next to Elijah, who looks up at me with a sheepish, worried expression.
He gives my shoulder a rub. “You alright, buddy?”
I sit down and give the mouse a shake, waking the computer up. “I’m fine, Elijah. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m gonna get you so wasted this coming weekend for your birthday. I mean, twenty-one? It’s nothing to take lightly.”
I shrug, not having given my upcoming birthday even a speck of thought. “It’s just a birthday. I don’t like drinking, anyway. It’s really not a big deal.”
He studies me for a second, then lowers his voice. “It’s the boss, isn’t it?”
I turn to him, alarm in my eyes. “Who? What?”
Elijah puts a consoling hand on my shoulder and gives it a hearty squeeze. “The boss was mad at you for that botched report, huh? Got on your ass for your mistake?”
On my ass. In my ass. I experience an inner jolt of excitement, my asshole puckering as if reliving what just happened to me minutes ago in that office. “H-He did.”
“He gave you a really bad scolding, huh?”
I bite my lip and blush. “The worst.”