Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

I ngrid

His left hand tightened on my waist. The garter belt dug into my hip a little, reminding me how naughty a girl I had decided to be when I had put on the lacy red lingerie that morning. I felt him start to fuck me, to enjoy me, to give me what I needed. The warm, stiff length of him receded and then slammed back into my vagina so forcefully that I could feel how firmly his hands held me, ensuring that the cunt he meant to use stayed exactly where he wanted it.

His upper thighs and his hips slapped against my bottom like a reminder of my paddling. The sensation inside my womb and the yawning need for more of it, all of it, seemed to dwarf the lingering soreness from the paddle. The warmth in my backside, though, reinforced the pleasure—and at the same time the memory of how I had gotten punished for disobedience… how I had been made to take off my clothes anyway… how I had ended up with my face in the carpet and my new boss' rigid penis in my needy vagina… it came together to make me feel faint with lust.

I kept trying to move my hips, instinctively attempting to match Mr. Alden's hard, rapid thrusting into me. I realized distantly that in fact my body tried all the harder because he held me so firmly in place. With a hot blush I realized that I wanted to feel restrained.

I cried out as I understood, and the cry seemed to make Mr. Alden thrust even harder into me. I had never been fucked like this, of course; I hadn't even known that a man could possess a woman this way, or maybe I hadn't understood that she could enjoy it, as shameful as that kind of pleasure felt.

An orgasm started to build inside me, like nothing I'd ever felt. The sheer embarrassment at the new fact that had become blindingly evident—that as much as I wanted to deny it, I liked my boss pounding his manhood into me like a wild animal ravaging his prey—fueled the need with incredible urgency. I knew I would come within a few seconds if Mr. Alden just kept fucking me.

My whole body tensed, and from somewhere I found an extra surge of strength so that when I pushed back against his next thrust, I actually managed to move a few centimeters and get his cock deeper inside me, so deep that I cried out at the breathtaking sensation. The little stab of discomfort reinforced the idea that Mr. Alden meant to punish me with his rigid penis, as much as to give me pleasure.

I cried out again, trying to push up on my elbows out of sheer instinct, to change the angle at which the enormous shaft penetrated my desperate sheath. Mr. Alden clearly liked that angle just as it was, though; he pressed down on my back hard to keep me in place.

"Are you going to come, Ingrid?" he growled. "Are you going to come on your boss' cock?"

"Oh… oh, God…" I sobbed. Suddenly I felt as if maybe I didn't want to let the orgasm happen… as if it would simply be too mortifying to yield to him that way, with the utter helplessness of the ecstasy that seemed to rush toward me like a tidal wave.

He withdrew his manhood until only the head remained inside me, and he stopped there.

"Oh, no…" I moaned. Helpless and humiliating or not, I needed to come much, much too badly to do anything but beg. "Please… please, sir…"

"I asked you a question, you little slut. Are you going to come on my cock now?"

"Yes!" I sobbed. "Yes, sir!"

Instantly he rewarded me for answering him with such evident obedience. He pressed down on my back, gripped my hip hard, and he started to fuck me again, like a jackhammer, thrusting at full length over and over, in what felt like a blindingly fast rhythm.

I started to come at the first thrust, and then I just kept climaxing, writhing in his strong hands but held so tightly that each movement of my muscles seemed to feed tension back into the spasms of my soaking vagina around his hot, surging cock. Every clench between my legs sent more pleasure crashing into my nervous system, until I screamed with pleasure—and the knowledge that everyone in this apparently insane office must know exactly what was happening to the new secretary only made the orgasms stronger.

It seemed to go on for hours, but I could tell, somewhere in my distant sense of reason and logic, that time had lost a good deal of its meaning for me. It probably only took a minute or two; I felt my body go limp under Mr. Alden's crouching form, spent with the terrible pleasure. From a long way away, it seemed, I felt him pull his cock out of my vagina.

"Kneel up, sweetheart," he ordered, enforcing the command with his hands. He wound his right forearm under my chest and pulled me upright. His left hand went between my legs and held me there, possessively—as if as a reminder that from now on I belonged to him, down there.

"Wh—" I started, turning my head in confusion to try to figure out what he intended—how this degrading lesson would continue.

"You're going to taste yourself on my cock," he murmured into my ear, "and I'm going to come on your face."

"Oh, no," I whispered. "Sir…"

"Shh, sweetheart," he said. "Don't make me get the paddle."

He let go of me, and I sensed him straightening up. Heat rushed into my cheeks as out of the corner of my eye I saw him start to come around to face me, his trousers down to the middle of his thighs. Instinctively I lowered my eyes to the carpet, where his shiny black shoes had just stepped into my view.

"Look at my cock, Ingrid," my new boss said. "It's time for you to get acquainted with it. Look how hard you came on your boss' penis."

I shook my head. I knew I couldn't have done that if the wand had still had control over me. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips. I took a deep breath through my nose, and I let out a sob because the scent that I had taken in told me much too much about what Mr. Alden had put directly in front of me.

I recognized it, to my distress. Or I recognized part of the aroma, anyway—and I knew that the part of it I didn't recognize represented his corresponding fragrance, the muskiness of a dominant man's private parts. I recognized it because I had done something naughty, once upon a time. It had felt naughty, at the time, anyway, and recollecting it there in my new boss' office, where it seemed I would have my naughtiness corrected from now on made it feel terribly naughty again.

After I had given Jake my virginity, when he had gotten up from the bed to get a drink, I had put my hand between my thighs to feel the difference there. The memory nearly overwhelmed me as I knelt in front of Mr. Alden with my eyes closed. I had felt tender, down there. My… my mind whispered it, as if I couldn't help obeying the command given by the man who had just fucked me as I had never imagined possible… my just-opened cunt had hurt a little, though something about the pain had to my embarrassment somehow felt right and proper.

That hadn't constituted the naughty thing—the memorable thing—though. Despite the discomfort, I had rubbed a little, pressed my fingers inside just to see what my lover's hardness had done. I had no idea why masturbation had always seemed so shameful to me, really, but even then, after having a man inside me at last, I had blushed at the intensity of the feeling.

I had taken my fingers out of my vagina, I had brought them up to my face, and I had inhaled tentatively. My naughtiness had vied with my modesty, but the lewd impulse won out as soon as I had taken the first little whiff. I took a deeper one, and I had smelled sex —my own private, mortifying scent, the fragrance of my hot, dark need.

Mr. Alden ran the backs of his fingers gently down my cheek.

"You're going to suck my cock, Ingrid," he said, his gentle tone contradicting the shameful brutality of his words. "You're going to taste your sweet little cunt one way or another—whether I have to paddle you again, or use the wand, or both. There's no sense in pretending. Open your eyes."

With a tiny sob, I obeyed. I hadn't ever gotten this close to a man's penis. I had kind of thought that Jake probably wanted me to go down on him, and I had almost offered once, during the brief period when I had thought I was in love with him, but even then it had just seemed too embarrassing. The surge of heat in my cheeks, and the force with which I swallowed at the lewd sight, confirmed the little-girl modesty it seemed I would never be able to let go of. At the same time, though, a thrill of helplessly reawakened arousal went through me as I took in the massive, rigid, glistening length of Joseph Alden's penis.

Joseph . I looked up, into his eyes. His golden, slightly curly hair framed his face. From this angle it looked so much like a halo that I let out a little sob at the idea that an angel could have such painful, shameful mercy on me. He had a little smile on his lips, but his eyes narrowed into a severity that sent a surge of hot mortification through my limbs. The renewed tingle in my clit seemed to spread warm desire all over my sore private parts and my paddled backside.

"Get a good look, Ingrid," he said, his words a murmur so deep in his chest that it sounded like a purr on the edge of a growl. "Eyes down."

I lowered my gaze. He held my face with his right hand, thumb on my cheek and fingers at the back of my neck. With his left he held his manhood, pumping it gently as if the sight of me stirred his dominant desire… me, his new fuck toy, on my knees, my little breasts out of the lacy bra cups and my panties down at my stocking tops… the pink cleft of my private lips revealed, lightly covered in the sparse blonde pubic curls he meant to take away.

I saw how hard I had come on Joseph's huge, hard cock. I understood for the first time the real meaning of another of those filthy words I knew but had never thought of using.

Cream. I had creamed my new boss' rigid, thrusting penis. I could see it there, the evidence of how the hot, dark place inside my imagination, my heart, my mind had taken control—of how desperately I had needed a good, hard fucking by a man who knew how to teach a naughty girl to give him pleasure.

"Open your mouth," he commanded from high above me. The purr had gone away; his voice had become all growl. "Taste your sweet little cunt."

I told myself I could hear the renewed threat of the paddle in his words. I told myself that the horrible wand's effect hadn't gone away completely—it couldn't have, because I had started to relax my jaw and to put out my tongue, which I would never, ever have done without some controlling influence to make me do such a shameful thing.

"Look at me," he said, a satisfaction in his words that made my heart leap even as my cheeks went hot. I obeyed, gazing up at him and seeing again the angel—the heavenly being who it seemed also became a savage animal when he chose. My face grew even hotter as I realized that I must look exactly like I was begging for the humiliating reward of sucking the cock that had given me such impossible pleasure.

Joseph's right hand tightened slightly at the back of my neck. I whimpered at the sensation, and its implication of claiming, of possession. Then he stepped forward a little, and laid his rigid manhood gently on my tongue.

"What a pretty little cocksucker you are, sweetheart," he said, and then he began to use my mouth. He moved his left hand to the back of my head, twining his fingers in my hair, and he thrust between my lips, as if my mouth represented just another cunt for fucking. I tasted salt, musk, and something a little bitter, too—Joseph's pre-cum, I realized. Heat surged in and out of my face as my boss' hairy lap came and went, his penis driving almost to the back of my throat and making me nearly gag with each rapid thrust.