His jaw dropped. “Holy SHIT.”
“Is this all right, sir? I know it’s not traditional, but I thought maybe you’d like something more original.”
“Holy SHIT.”
She smiled thinly, looking pointedly at the erection she could see swelling in his pants. “I’m glad you’re pleased, sir. How else may I please you? I brought your dinner. Would you like me to feed it to you?”
For the second day in a row, a beautiful woman sat on his lap and patiently fed him a meal. Emily wriggled her spectacularly toned ass into his crotch shamelessly, and he couldn’t resist reaching a hand into her wide open vest and squeezing a handful of boob. She continually wore a blank expression, notable only for its intense focus. When a dab of mayo wound up on his chin, he asked for a napkin.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to lick you clean, sir?”
As it turned out, he did prefer that.
Having Emily on hand was intoxicating—it reminded him of his night in the cheerleader locker room, pressing his power to its limit, demanding whatever he wanted and expecting to get it. When he finished dinner, he was so turned on he just went on a rampage across his dorm room, scattering books and papers, tossing neatly folded clothes wildly across the floor, kicking over the trash can. “Clean my room again, slut.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for making a use for me, sir.”
For the next hour and a half he watched her pace around the room tidying up again, always bending at the waist, alternating between facing away from him so her half-moon ass cheeks shone at him, and facing toward him so he could watch her little tits slip out of their minimal restraints. He followed her around for a time, caressing her whenever he wanted, however he wanted. She never uttered a word of complaint, didn’t even crack a scowl that he could see—even when she finished sorting a stack of papers back onto his desk only to have him immediately toss it in the air so he could watch her do it over. “I’ll try to do it better this time, sir” was her only comment.
She hadn’t yet finished re-folding his laundry when he couldn’t resist any more. “Kneel, slut.”
“Yes, sir.” She knelt at his feet, eyes meekly on the floor.
“Take my cock out.”
“Yes, sir.” She unzipped his pants, and pulled them aside when he stepped out of them.
When he put forward his hips and his rigidly erect cock moved at her, she opened her mouth to accept it. He pulled back immediately. “Hey now, who gave you permission to suck my cock? What makes you think you’ve earned the right?”
She shivered a moment, staring at him fixedly as he slapped her in the cheeks with it, rubbed his tip teasingly across her puckered lips. Without even being able to articulate why, he set his balls on the bridge her nose; Emily dutifully waited for orders as DJ tea-bagged her. “You like wearing my balls as a face-mask, Em?”
“If it pleases you, sir, then yes, I do, sir.”
“You want to suck my cock?”
“You know that I do, sir.”
“And how do little sluts get permission to do what they want to do?”
“They… ask for it?” She seemed unsure.
“They beg for it, slut,” he corrected, smacking her forehead with his cock reprovingly. I can’t believe she’s into this stuff.
“I understand, sir. May I please suck your cock, sir?”
He eyed her sternly. “That’s what begging sounds like where you come from? At my house, that’s how we ask someone to pass the mashed potatoes.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Would you like to punish your slut for being so stupid? She’s very sorry. She’ll try not to be such a bad slut for you from now on.”
“Ooooh, talking about yourself in the third person now, are we? That’s hot.”
She nodded. “Your slut is glad she has done something to please you, sir. May she be rewarded with your cock? She’ll be so good to it. Your slut only wants your big hard dick in her mouth, and she’ll do anything to get it, sir. Anything. Please give her your cock? Pretty please, sir? Name a price, and your slut will gladly pay it. Please!” Without moving her neck, her tongue craned out to graze the underside of his balls as if an act of desperation.
“Very well slut.”
In a flash, Emily’s mouth was wrapped around his cock, so fast he only had time to worry she was going to bite it off after the fact. She didn’t. She attacked it with her tongue, swirling and slathering it like she was committed to licking off every scrap of its flavor, like she intended to lick her way to the center. She moaned dramatically, then when she saw him making eye contact with her, she locked eyes with him. Without a facial expression, her eyes were all he had to go by, but all they were saying was “thank you for letting me blow you, sir.”
DJ could’ve came within a minute of her beginning, and it was only by force of will and an earnest desire to prolong her desperately committed blowjob that he didn’t. Yet then, even as she pushed him to his limit, both of their cell phone alarms went off a mere fraction of a second apart.
He tried to remember why, then it hit him. It was time for their bi-weekly staff meeting.
“Whoops, Em, that’s our meeting.” She didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. “You don’t want to miss the staff meeting, do you?”
She pulled off, her hands taking her mouth’s place, just long enough to reply. “Your slut only wants to go where you want her to be.”
He grinned. She sure was taking her character seriously. “Well then let’s go to the meeting, slut. You can finish me up there if things are boring.”
She let him go. “As you command, sir.” She rose to her knees, then started looking around the room.
“Lose something?”
“Just looking for the clothes I wore in here yesterday, sir.”
“What? Fuck no, you look dynamite like this. I want everybody to see how hot my slut made herself for me.”
Shiver. “Very well, sir. I’ll go like this.”
“Heh. Get the cock out of your mouth and we’re back to first person, are we?”
She winced—apologetically, he guessed. “Your slut is sorry. She will only ever speak of herself in the third person from now on.”
“I was just teasing, Em.”
“Your fuck toy never teases you when it comes to bringing you pleasure.”
“Well… have it your way. Fuck toy.” He laughed.
She didn’t.
He followed right behind her to the conference room where they had their staff meetings, and she walked one foot in front of the other the whole way, tight little ass wiggling side to side. They just barely made it on time; the rest of the staff was already there, including their manager, Katja. “Emily!” the woman exclaimed as she sauntered in. “What is this that you are wearing?”
Emily looked to DJ. Everyone else looked at Emily for an answer to their boss’s question. “Go on, tell them why you’re dressed like this.”
She looked to the ground, coloring in embarrassment. “DJ’s slut is dressed as his personal maid. She is dressed like this to please him.”
Abby, the only girl on staff who gave Emily a run for her money in the look department (and had always seemed to resent Emily for the competition, DJ had thought), arched a sculpted eyebrow. “I thought maids dressed in little black dresses with frills on.”
“She was just being creative. I encourage that in my sluts.”