I didn’t have to ask the questions. He already knew my conflict, had understood my conflict from the start and knew exactly how to exploit it for his benefit. He shoved his cock in my face and I opened my mouth, feeling naked and vulnerable and so, so submissive. How had Andrew described it? Like being high on drugs, but to me it was much more grounded than that. I felt secure when Price was controlling me. I felt emptied out, carried away. I felt surrendered to a power greater than myself.
He wasn’t gentle. His cock choked me, shoving deep in my throat. His hands twisted in my hair to keep me from doing anything so self-protective as pulling away. I was his mouth, his hole, his wet, shameless thing who was willing to hold her pussy open and be tortured only because he demanded it. I had his cock now, at least, which was what I’d wanted.
The only thing I wasn’t getting was an orgasm. When he finished shooting his cum down my throat, I swallowed and contemplated the consequences I’d receive if I dared hump my aching pussy against his muscled calf. In the end, I wasn’t brave enough to do it.
He released my hair and patted my head, and let out a long, contented sigh. He dressed for dinner while I knelt with my head bowed and my arms still clasped behind my back, then he told me to dress. I pulled my panties on over my wetness, and my tight jeans. It made it feel so much worse. My sore, tender nipples were once again protected by my bra, but they were sensitive now to every movement.
He went with me downstairs to change, to be sure I wouldn’t be “naughty.” I would have been. At this point, I would have masturbated if he’d given me even three seconds of privacy. He made me put on a dress with no panties underneath. It would be cold, but maybe that was a good thing.
To keep up the facade of a professional relationship, he made me walk down to the lobby first to meet the others. They couldn’t know I’d just come from his embrace. They couldn’t see the nakedness he insisted upon beneath my sweater dress and my coat. They’d never understand the nakedness I felt, even if they could see it. It was like he was still grasping me between my legs, even though he wasn’t there. When he stepped off the elevators and walked toward our waiting group, he barely glanced at me, and greeted me like the fifth-wheel intern I was.
But I felt so owned, so completely owned by him in that moment, that I had to press my thighs tighter together, or die from my vulnerability. I was so owned by him, it was a miracle none of the others knew.
Price
Chere squirmed through the ritzy fixed-price menu dinner, looking beautifully distracted. She understood now what happened to naughty interns who drove their bosses out of their minds with denial and teasing. I hoped she was learning her lesson, now that the shoe was on the other foot.
Oh, the glances she sent me. The injured looks. She delighted me so much with her secret, frantic agony that I took pity on her after the second course. I got out my phone while Raneesh and Hannah were jabbering about what to order for dessert, and sent her a text.
Go to a stall in the ladies room. Spread your legs, pull your dress up to your waist, and masturbate to orgasm. In all caps, I emphasized: ONLY ONCE.
I didn’t have to add the “or else.” She knew the “or else,” had gotten a good taste of it about an hour ago, when I’d made her a miserable little slut for her crimes against me. I must have been going soft, to let her orgasm now, but when she came back, she at least seemed a bit more composed. She met my eyes, smiled faintly, and put the tip of a finger to her lips. I knew it was the one she’d rubbed herself off with. I would have licked it myself, but the others would have questioned. I contented myself with a glance that said, “Later.”
And there would be a later. She’d need more orgasms, and I’d need more orgasms, and we’d have orgasm after orgasm from this point forward, because I wouldn’t let her retreat from me again. We’d tried that experiment and it had failed.
When Jennifer, Hannah, and Raneesh decided to go bar hopping, I developed a sudden headache and Chere pretended to be exhausted. We said goodbye to the others and got our own cab to return to the hotel. I held Chere’s hand during the ride back, not feeling any particular need to talk. We were still in the giddy stage, the reuniting stage, and I didn’t want words to ruin things. I didn’t want to ask her Is this okay? or Want some more sex?