Ally…

I froze mid-step and cocked my head, searching his face as I drew a breath and asked, “Play with me? I don’t think I understand.” Okay, that was a lie. I didn’t generally like being manipulative, but I really wanted to hear him say it and I really wanted him to do it. It was hard to be here, in his space, naked all the time, and not be acutely aware of my sexuality.

Everything was different now, everything felt different and held that dangerous edge of sex to it. The simple act of wiping down a counter or dusting a shelf sent my breasts swaying, the cooler air of the air conditioned apartment against my exposed skin sent me into spontaneous shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. When I knelt or bent to pick something up, my sex felt exposed and no matter what I did I couldn’t stop thinking about him. How could I?

Of course, thinking about him led to fantasizing about him, which led to wanting and wishing and that led me to this near-constant state of low-level arousal that I couldn’t always patiently wait until I was home to do something about.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, and I shook my head before he could apologize.

“Genie’s out of the bottle… what did you mean?” I swallowed hard, and brought one hand up, wrapping it around the elbow of my other arm. I wasn’t hiding from him. If I hid from him, then it would mean I was ashamed, that what we were doing was wrong, and though other people may think that way, I didn’t feel that way; not at all.

He set down his briefcase in the entryway and moved to hang up his long coat in the hall closet. That through, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and did the same. He sighed out, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them back over his forearms. He looked back at me over his shoulder and finally turned, tugging at his tie, unknotting it. I licked my lips and waited for an answer and his jaw tightened. He dragged that sweeping gaze of his from my head to my feet and back up, letting it linger in choice places but not luridly.

“You know what I mean, Ally…”

“You mean sexually,” I said, slowly.

He nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons at his collar. I swallowed hard and he smiled. It held an edge of want, a naked desire I felt in my own heart and I licked my lips again, running the bottom one between my teeth.

“What are the rules?” I asked softly, and it was his turn to freeze and contemplate me the same way I had contemplated him a moment before.

“It stops when you say it stops,” he said, and he closed his eyes, the struggle clear on his face.

“And what if I don’t want it to stop?” The question was out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to ask it. Something akin to adrenaline surged through my veins the moment the final word was uttered, and I held very still as if any sort of movement would shatter this moment between us. For some reason, the very thought of that made me ache with a sort of grief. I hadn’t realized just how attracted I was to my boss, or just how lonely I was… physically among other things.

He bowed his head, a smile curving his lips, but he didn’t immediately answer. Finally, it was as if he had come to a decision. He gripped the back of his neck briefly and then dropped his hand to his side. He drew himself up to his full height, and it was as if that commanding presence of his wrapped around him like a cloak. He speared me where I stood with that dark gaze of his, and I was suddenly a rabbit in a trap, heart fluttering wildly in my chest, joining the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

“Go into my bedroom,” he ordered. “In the nightstand to the left of the bed, bottom drawer, there is a roll of black velvet. Bring it to me, and don’t look inside.”

I swallowed hard and guessed that we were playing. I went and did as I was bid, padding quickly down the hall; the smooth, polished wood of his floors cool beneath my feet, the carpet in his bedroom warm and plush. I crouched in front of the nightstand and smoothly pulled open the bottom drawer. I lifted the bundle he’d requested free and slid it shut. Clutching it to my chest, I returned to the main open living area of his apartment. He stood by the dining room table, his shirt untucked and now open and I froze again.

“Come here,” he said calmly and I did. He pulled out one of the chairs and set it aside. I held out the roll of stuff he asked for and he set it aside, at the next place setting. He took a half step toward me and laid a gentle hand on my hip and I jumped at the unexpected, intimate little touch. He cocked his head slightly and drew me towards him, arm curving around my lower back.

I held my breath, as I moved into his personal space, his energy calm, almost frozen, and completely in control. I rested a hand on his muscled chest over his tattoo and let my eyes drift to the ink beneath his skin. The entirety of the right side of his chest and shoulder was done in a beautiful black and white image of some sort of family crest. Surrounding it, in the background and onto his shoulder was Lady Justice, blindfolded and holding her scales before her, a sword upraised as if leading a charge in her other hand.

“Ally,” he said softly and I jerked my hand back guilty, his professionally pressed and fitted blue shirt falling forward to cover the shoulder again.

“Sorry,” I murmured, blushing hard. He tipped my chin with two gentle fingers and I swallowed hard, meeting his obsidian eyes. Cool and appraising, they held a secret little smile that I couldn’t define.

“Sit up on the table,” he ordered gently, walking me backward to it. I pressed my palms flat on the highly polished wood surface but paused.

“You really want my ass on your dining room table?” I asked softly, and he smiled at me with patience before saying, “I have a wonderful housekeeper. I’ll ask her to clean it for me.”

I laughed and some of the ice was broken, some of the nervousness fleeing before his good humor. I think I liked it when he joked. He was so serious all the time; brooding. I hopped up and he brought the chair back over, setting it in front of me. He hitched up his slacks out of habit and sat down, pulling the chair closer and resting his hands on my knees.

He looked up into my eyes, and the somberness he always held was back. I tilted my head and reached up, touching the side of his face. His eyes closed and he turned his face into my hand, brushing the heel of my palm with a light touch of his lips, breathing me in. His hand left my knee and cradled the back of my hand, returning it to the tabletop by my hip.

“What happens now?” I asked, and it came out scarce and breathy. He did that to me. His presence, his touch, and we hadn’t even really gone there. I swallowed hard and suddenly wondered if I was in some sort of trouble here. Not with him, or this job, or any of that… but me, my heart.

“Now, we talk. We discuss what you like and what you don’t. We discuss what you’re willing to try and what you aren’t.”

I smile and ask him, lightly teasing, “Is this what it takes to play with a lawyer?”

“Explain.” Again with that clipped and cultured tone; commanding.

I lost my easy smile, “It’s what you sound like,” I said. “Like this is some kind of contract negotiation.”

“Isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow and pinned me where I sat with his look. I didn’t answer, my voice fled. I didn’t know what to say that would please him ‒ and I felt like that was worth working for. His smile was so rare, I liked it when I found it and brought it out of him.

He smoothed his hands up and down the tops of my thighs, and I closed my eyes and shivered lightly. I heard him smile. He let out a little hum of appreciation at my reaction and I opened my eyes quickly to see it. It was there but tried to disappear quickly. It was shy, I guess; took some coaxing, like a scared rabbit.

“You like that,” he said, and he wasn’t asking, but I answered him anyway.

“Yes, I like to be touched.”

“What else do you like?” he asked and I licked my lips.

“I, uh…” I felt myself blush and he tipped his head, considering me.

“You’re not very experienced,” he murmured and his hands stilled on my skin. “You don’t know what you like.”

I bit my lower lip and shook my head, timidly. It was kind of embarrassing when you stopped to think about it.

“I like that,” he said and his hands returned to my knees.

I swallowed hard and asked faintly, “You do?”

“I do; it means I can show you new things, and that there will be a lot of new things.”

“That sounds… nice.”

“Okay, how about this? We’ll go slowly, and afterward, I want you to go home and think about what we did. I want you to write down how you felt, what you liked and what you didn’t and I want you to leave it here for me to read the next time you’re here.”

“You want me to keep a sex diary?” I asked.

“A journal, yes. I also want you to tell me if you don’t like something, but I am not fond of the word ‘no’ so I want you to pick something else.”

Oh my god, he wanted me to choose a safeword. This was for real. His expression neutral, searching my face for any unease, but I had always been crap at hiding my feelings, so I was sure that all he saw was the spark of eagerness there.

“Um, I don’t know what.” I laughed nervously. “There are so many great words, beautiful words…”

He smiled and it was genuine. “What are some of your favorite things?”

“I love flowers, lilies and roses are my favorites but that’s because my grandmother grows them.”

“So those are probably not something you would want to use.” His smile grew and his hands resumed stroking over my skin. I shivered and took a deep breath in through my nose, letting it out slowly. His hands on my skin felt so nice.

“How about the old standbys for now… Green for ‘go’: you’re fine’; yellow for ‘slow down’: and that you need to process; and red for ‘stop’: you legitimately can’t handle or take anymore and need to stop.”

I nodded and murmured, “Okay, I can remember that.”

“Is there anything you know you don’t like? Like, can’t stand the idea of, right off the bat?”

I thought about it for him, and I mean really thought about it and slowly shook my head, “There’s nothing I have tried that I didn’t like, I mean, not yet…”

“Ah, not true, something just occurred to you,” he said and he was right.

“Of course, as soon as I said it, I would think of something,” I said, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his voice as hard as the look he gave me. “Honesty before humiliation,” he added and I could respect that.

“I, um, I really didn’t like it when I, um,” I laughed and looked at the ceiling, “Oh, god, I feel so weird sitting on your dining room table naked, talking about this!”

“Don’t. It’s just you and me, and I happen to like that you’re sitting on my dining room table naked… and I could listen to you talk about anything. What didn’t you like?”

He was being patient with me, and I could tell this wasn’t going to go any further unless I said it and so I bit my lower lip, considered who I was talking to for only half a second and blurted out, “I really didn’t like it when my last boyfriend came in my mouth.”

He paused, considered me, and said, “Duly noted. Now tell me why you didn’t like it.”

“Seriously?”

He gave me a flat look and I dropped my eyes to where his hands rested on my knees. I rolled my lips together and said, “He wasn’t nice about it. I mean, it was one of the reasons I broke up with him. The first time, it scared me, and I asked him not to do it again but he didn’t listen. The next time, he grabbed my hair and, um, sort of made me swallow. It was the worst thing… I really didn’t like it.”

He nodded expression grave, and stood up slowly. He hooked his hand around the back of my neck, cradling my head and dragged my forehead gently, carefully, to his lips. He pressed them to my forehead in a sweet kiss and murmured against my skin, “Good girl, thank you for telling me,” and the anxiety and tension that had come with the memory eased out of me, draining from my muscles. It was replaced with a golden little euphoric glow at having pleased him, and I liked that.

“Lay down,” he ordered and it seemed the time for negotiation and conversation was over. I lay down, the tabletop cool against my back and he unwrapped the bundle beside me. I went to look and he stopped, raising his eyebrows and saying, “Ah, look away.” I licked my lips and turned my face towards the kitchen. Away from whatever it was, he was doing.

My nervousness was back, and I chewed my bottom lip lightly as I heard things subtly click together as he moved things around.

“I would like to try a little bit of everything,” he said gently, pulling up his chair and retaking his seat. He grasped one of my ankles and I inhaled sharply. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

I relaxed and he wiggled my ankle back and forth with his hand, signaling I should loosen up and let him move it for me. I complied and he brought my leg up, spreading me, placing my foot on the arm of his dining chair. He did the same to the other leg and nudged my knees apart.

“The last time I was in this position it was a very uncomfortable doctor’s visit,” I murmured, and he chuckled darkly.

“Yes, but I don’t believe your doctor did this,” and he kissed the inside of my thigh.

I sucked in a deep breath and said, “No.”

“An excellent point you’ve made, though. Are you on birth control?”

I colored and said, “No, I was hoping you would wear a condom…”

“I had planned to anyway, but are you opposed to birth control?”

“No, I just… I’m not with anyone, not dating; I didn’t see the need to put any chemicals or hormones into my body it didn’t need.”

“Fair enough,” he whispered, and his voice was huskier somehow, and I realized he was looking at me, his hands roaming gently along the outsides of my thighs, under my ass, and along my hips, his gaze devouring my pussy like it was a work of art.

It should have felt weird, but it didn’t. I felt… beautiful. Desirable and alluring, and that was new to me. New to me, but I definitely liked it.

“I’m going to touch you,” he warned and then his fingers were trailing along my inner thighs. I closed my eyes and couldn’t escape the wanting moan that escaped me. I jumped slightly when his fingertips grazed my asshole.

“A little bit of everything,” he reminded and plunged a digit into my vagina. I arched and cried out a little. That little bit of contact so welcome, the anticipation killing me, the surprise overtaking me. He pumped his fingers in and out of me, and I sucked in a breath, holding it.

“Breathe,” he reminded me and I did, and his fingers were suddenly gone, as fast as they had appeared. He touched my backside again, using my wetness to tease at my asshole then pressed something against it. It slid in easily and didn’t hurt at all.

I didn’t ask what he’d just put inside me, but he said, “Just a little lubricant. Give it time.”

I bit my lips together and breathed deep and even, letting out a quick little “Mm-hmm.”

Oh, my god, this was exciting. The unknown, having his hands on me, in me, I wanted more, and I waited, I would be lying if I said patiently, for what he was going to do next.

He held up a pair of neon pink silicone balls, a loop on one end, a silicone thread between them, connecting them.

“Do not let these fall out,” he warned. “I will find a clever punishment if you do.”

I blinked, in surprise and he pressed them into me. I was wet, and they slipped in effortlessly. I closed my eyes and sighed at the full feeling they gave me. It was just this side of being any kind of satisfying. I bit my bottom lip, my arousal deepening to levels of insanity. I wanted him. I was desperate to sit up and grab him. I wanted to pull his mouth to mine and devour him… but I didn’t. My curiosity at what he would do next ran deeper.

He raised a small little anal plug of the same bright pink, a blue artificial gem at its base. It wasn’t very big at all, not intimidating in the slightest and my slight anxiety at what he had planned for my ass abated.

“Not going any bigger than this, not tonight,” he breathed and his dark eyes, the way he looked at me, stole my breath. Carnal lust, power, and pleasure played out in their depths as he pressed it to my ass. I squeaked slightly in discomfort but it didn’t last more than half a second and the anal plug was in. The full feeling in my pussy with the balls he had placed in it had been nothing as compared to what it was now. I writhed slightly and he smiled carnally, and gave the outside of my thigh a stinging slap.

“Stop moving!” he ordered and I instantly stilled. He grinned then and said, “You need some decoration, I think.”

I heard chains rattle and cold metal touched my stomach. I jumped and he laughed, a delighted sound with a slight edge of cruelty to it. The metal dragged across my skin and I shivered at the sensation. I closed my eyes as he circled my left nipple with it first, then dragged it between my breasts to circle the right. My palms were pressed flat into the table top by my hips, fingertips pressing harder into the wood. My chest heaved with breaths as I struggled not to move, to hold still under the tickling sensations he wrought.

He brought up one end of the chain and I realized it had three, each end capped with a metal clamp, thick, shiny black rubber over the pinching tips. He pinched a nipple between finger and thumb and drew it out from my body, settling the clamp around it and easing it on. I hissed, his eyes glued to my face but expression neutral.

“Too much?”

“Yeah, a little.”

He turned a screw on the clamp and the intensity eased marginally. He mirrored the action on the other side and I felt myself grow wetter between my thighs, and I was already wet, to begin with. I clenched up tighter, remembering his admonition about keeping his other toys in place. I was determined to not find out what he would consider a ‘clever punishment.’

He tugged lightly on the chains attached to my nipples and I cried out, arching slightly.

“Oh!” he tsked. “I told you not to move. I was going to leave this one off, but now…”

He pressed his fingers against my slick pussy lips and rubbed at my clit for a moment. I pressed my lips together, a moan trying to find its way past them, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to move again.

He chuckled, and again, it held that slight edge of cruelty, as he gently pinched my clit and clamped carefully above it, watching my face intently. I bit my lips together and turned my head and he stopped, adjusted the clamp, and tried again. He eased it on and I panted. There was so much going on right now; I wasn’t sure I could deal with all of the sensations bombarding me at once.

“Sit up,” he demanded, and I slowly and carefully sat up. I pursed my lips ‒ putting my legs together caused the clamp to pinch uncomfortably, so I left them slightly open. “Come on, on your feet, that’s it.” He helped ease me to the floor and I gasped.

“I want you to clean this table,” he said evenly. “Then I want you to pour me two fingers of whiskey and bring it to my chair. Put the rest of the toys on the kitchen counter for now.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmured, at a loss for what else to say. He closed his eyes and it looked like he was listening to the sweetest music. I stared at him, slack-jawed with the moment. My discomfort, temporarily, was forgotten.

“I don’t hear you moving, Ally…”

“Sorry,” I moved slowly, the weight of the chains swinging, the stimulation almost too much. I gasped and he pushed the chair he’d been using in and went to his wing-backed chair in the living room. I expected him to swing it around so that he could watch me, but he didn’t. Instead, he peeled out of his shirt the rest of the way and let it fall to the floor, with a pointed look at me over his shoulder.

I couldn’t help it, I smiled and shook my head. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get that.”

He grinned back at me and went and sat down. I bent to pick up the shirt and gasped at the chains dragging on the sensitive points of my body. Taking it to the laundry closet, I slid the doors open and grabbed the furniture polish and a rag, taking it back to the table. I moved the toys and I swear, I grew wetter with every step I took. I was so wet I could feel it slick the inside of my thighs. I clenched hard, scared the damn weight of the balls inside of me would cause them to slip free. I couldn’t clench my legs because of the clamp to my pussy and I was so frustrated by that.

This was diabolically clever in its own right; I didn’t want to even know what he would come up with if he really put his mind to it. I sprayed the furniture polish onto the table and swiped it across the surface where I had been. The clamps on my nipples had felt good at the start, but the longer they stayed on, the more they began to burn with a sharp ache.

By the time I put the cleaning supplies away and poured his drink I was ready for the whole mess to be off and out. I went to him and held the glass down to him. He looked up at me without taking it and said, “Come stand in front of me.”

I did as I was bid and he gestured for me to kneel. I did so, awkwardly, on the plush area rug and he smiled, accepting the glass when I held it up to him. He took an appreciative sip and let his gaze rove over me and my pussy gave a throb that was echoed by my heart.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and cupped my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“You are too,” I murmured.

He smiled, and it held sadness. “Not on the inside.”

“I think so,” I murmured back.

“Hush. I’m going to look at you, finish my drink, then I’m going to fuck you on my coffee table.”

I gasped, my eyes widening even as my body cried out, god, yes, please!

“I would really like that,” I whispered, transfixed and unable to look away from those soul-deep dark eyes of his.

“I would really like that…” He said the words slowly, and his voice trailed off. He looked at me expectantly and I swallowed gently, my mouth suddenly dry with how much I wanted what he was offering.

“I would really like that, sir.”

“Good girl,” he murmured and sipped his drink again.

When the whiskey in his glass was a little more than half gone, he said, “Undo my pants.”

I knelt up, staring up his perfect body, rippling with muscle, and gently fed the tongue of his belt through the piece of leather holding it close to his body. I flicked the tongue of metal out of the hole and the leather gave with a little sigh. My excitement spiraled tighter and tighter, my pussy very nearly throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

“I like the way you perfume the air,” he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as I unhooked the decorative piece of fabric from the beltline of his slacks, working the button free. I slowly lowered the zipper and he said, “Bring me out of the front of my boxers and put this on."

He slipped a condom out of his pocket and held it out to me. I swallowed hard and plucked it from his fingers, putting it between my lips so that I could use both hands to bring him out of his pants. He was hard and throbbing, the middle of his cock thick and heavily veined. I stroked him from root to tip, his foreskin peeling back and pre-cum slicking my fingers. He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes closed, his head tipping back to rest on his chair-back.

“Oh, god, that feels good,” he murmured. He let me do it for a while before commanding strongly, “Stop.” My hand instantly stilled.

I waited, plucking the condom out of my mouth and he looked down at me. “Put that on me, Bright Eyes.”

I opened it, my body aching, burning, and needing his still cool touch before I felt like I would go insane. I rolled it onto him awkwardly. I had only put one on a man once or twice before. He was patient with me, watching me with no expression. Once I had the condom rolled to his root, he downed the rest of his glass and held out his hands to me. I held out mine, to place them in his and he helped me up.

I groaned slightly and he asked, “Clamps too much now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit on the edge of the coffee table, spread your legs and lean back on your hands. Arch more, that’s it. God, that’s fucking beautiful.”

I followed all of his instructions and I was completely open to him; he roamed my body with his gaze, looking down at me from where he stood, and slid his hands along the tops of my thighs lightly, a ghost of a touch. He went to his knees between my legs and unclipped a nipple. I hissed as the blood rushed back in and he sealed his mouth over it, sucking. The hiss turned into a cry and I threw my head back, my hair trailing on the table, tickling the top of my ass.

He repeated on the other side and I echoed the cry. He repeated his ministrations and I was so close to coming. I had never been so close from any kind of foreplay before. He reached a finger inside of me, teasing through my wetness, seeking and finding the loop on the balls inside me.

“Relax, let them go,” he ordered and I relaxed my body. He pulled them out and the anal plug was pushed out with them, dropping to the carpet. I looked at him, alarmed, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he dropped them with a clatter, trailing his tongue between my breasts, down my stomach and expertly unclamped my pussy lips above my clit and covered the sensitive bundle of nerves with his mouth, sucking on it as he let it loose. I arched harder and cried out in surprise and ecstasy, the cool rush of pleasure flowing completely through my body, my pussy, hot and wet, contracting rhythmically with a light orgasm, a promise of things to come.

He knelt up, capturing my eyes with his own and put his hand on my throat, not squeezing, not hurting, just there, exerting the promise of bad things as he guided his cock to my slick entrance. He thrust into me, his other hand finding the outside of my thigh, my ass, and pressing me further towards the edge of the table, closer to him. I pressed back on my hands and scooted closer, trembling as he filled me and wanting just that little bit more.