Past Perfect

One fear must've overridden the other, for Jacquí's hands slowly traveled up her body to cup her breasts. She paused there, fingertips poised over her hardened nipples. Denise held her gaze until those fingertips began to pinch and Jacquí's eyes fluttered closed.

When she stopped and opened her eyes, Denise prodded. "Keep going. Your hands are mine. Show me...and don't stop unless I tell you to."

Jacquí leaned against the door and resumed teasing her nipples. Her eyes again closed and her mouth dropped open as the sensations intensified. Fighting the urge to take over, Denise snuck around the corner and grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room. As quietly as she could, not wanting to interrupt Jacquí's focus, she parked the chair about five feet from the door and straddled it, arms folded atop its back and chin resting on her forearms. She knew when Jacquí opened her eyes, she'd have an unobstructed view of her wet panties.

"Touch your pussy," Denise instructed in a firm, but barely audible, whisper.

Jacquí's eyes shot open, fear flashing briefly until rebellion overtook it. "I never imagined you'd be the dominant type."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You're getting exactly what you wanted. The sooner you admit that, the sooner we can stop pissing around and get on with it. Now, put your damned hand in your pants."

Denise had no idea if Jacquí had any sexual experience with women. She attended all company functions with a male escort, but that was hardly surprising. Someone as business savvy as Jacquí would undoubtedly have a beard for such purposes. Since they didn't cross paths in other social venues, and Denise didn't partake of the office gossip, she realized knew next to nothing about the sultry beauty's private life. Not that it really mattered in the moment.

She watched as Jacquí unbuttoned her jeans and slipped one delicate hand into them, her wrist remaining visible above the waistband of a pair of brilliant blue panties. "Push your jeans down. I want to see your fingers working. Better yet, take them off."

With her head cocked to one side, Jacquí shrugged out of the tattered denim. She kicked the garment aside and, taking a couple steps forward, propped the ball of one foot on the chair between Denise's legs. Perfectly pedicured toes teased the hem of the skirt as it stretched taut across her spread thighs. The spice-tinged scent of Jacquí's arousal filled the space between them, and Denise licked her lips.

"Continue."

The exhibitionism tested the boundaries of Jacquí's composure, and Denise enjoyed the expressions that flitted across her fair features. At first, her fingers moved tentatively, but soon embarrassment surrendered to intense desire aided by dogged determination. Denise waited until she believed Jacquí to be fully absorbed in her own pleasure before again speaking.

"Stop."

Roughly pushing Jacquí's foot from the seat of the chair, she stood and spun it around. While her hands unknotted her belt, she instructed Jacquí to kneel. Denise repositioned herself on the chair, facing forward, and scooted her bottom to its edge. Trailing the ends of the coarse rope belt across Jacquí's bare back, she said, "You know what to do."

The eyes looking up at her held both contempt and gratitude as their face moved between Denise's legs. A hot tongue pushed her thong into her crevice, and teeth pulled it out. Again. Denise wove the fingers of her free hand through Jacquí's hair and yanked her head up to find eyes drunk with passion.

"Take them off."

Jacquí obeyed and immediately returned her mouth to its task, murmuring her enjoyment as she did so. The first swipe of the rope across her ass caught her by surprise, and she grasped the legs of the chair with both hands as she braced for more.

"You eat pussy like you've done it before," Denise growled, delivering yet another stinging blow. The growing welts on the tanned and toned flesh did as much for her arousal as the oral attentions. Perfection marked by pain. It seemed to stir Jacquí as well, for each blow increased the vigor with which her mouth attacked.

Jacquí used the legs of the chair to pull her face harder against Denise's sex, and the repeated impact of the rope drew forth moans that resonated through her clit. Every time she started to slide into bliss, however, her guard would go up. Still wary of Jacquí's motivations, she couldn't quite relax enough to come. The spanking helped, but she still sensed that she was being used for some unknown purpose—something beyond sex. Jacquí surrendered far too easily, and Denise felt she was missing a critical piece to the erotic puzzle.

Without that understanding, she refused to give Jacquí the satisfaction of making her come. The physical release would only bring emotional vulnerability. Denise realized, in that moment, there was only one outcome that would bring her any measure of comfort.

"Stop."