Aiden's Happy Ending

God, it has been a long day.

Meeting after meeting with clueless board members; timid, mousy interns scurrying up and down the office halls; a stack of paperwork in his inbox ten inches high.

The height of a man's inbox should never surge so far as to equal the length of his cock, Aiden thinks wryly to himself, enjoying his own confident humor.

But he supposes that all came along with the territory. Just as he had surpassed his third decade, so too the company he had inherited from his father before him had surpassed their fiercest competitor on the market, and so Aiden's bank account had finally surpassed nine digits. His "birthday billionaire blowout" as he liked to think of it, had been an alcohol-soaked blur of breasts and booze, such to the point that Aiden soon couldn't tell the difference between the strippers and the women on the guest list, so desperately they all threw themselves at him in their uninhibited daze.

Yes, that had certainly made everything worth it. He still isn't sure who had been the one to finally bring him to release, or how it had even happened, but that night of debauchery had cleansed him.

Today, though, he craved a different manner of cleansing, and if the hands on the clock were correct, he had better hurry up and prepare for it.

Aiden wanders down a modern hallway speckled with expensive artworks specially chosen by his Senior Art Consultant. He makes his way into his bedroom, the enormous king bed perfectly made and stocked with decorative pillows.

With deft fingers, Aiden undoes the windsor knot holding his tie in place, sheds his suit jacket to the floor where it falls in a charcoal gray puddle. Melinda will pick it up later. Those same nimble fingers work their way down his shirt, undoing the buttons with dexterous ease to reveal a toned abdomen over a deep pelvic V.

This, too, he sheds, along with his pants, the belt buckle clanking. And finally the boxers, constricting elastic waistband finally torn from his hips.

His cock hangs down and he tugs longingly at it, but there's no time before Marie arrives and he so hates to be interrupted. He wouldn't want to take his frustration out on the young woman.

A loud peal rings through the air as the doorbell rings and Aiden hurries to don his bathrobe-navy blue and silken-cinching the belt around his waist and tying it in a knot as he strides back down the hallway to the foyer where he can see through the privacy glass windows framing the oak door, that Marie is hovering on his doorstep.

His cock is still half hard from those few long strokes and the thought of sliding it into something warm and wet, but he's already kept her waiting.

So he opens the door wide, a glow of pleasure warming him as he catches the flash of her eyes down to his pelvis and then back up again.

"Marie?" he asks.

"Yes, sir," she replies in a small voice, and Aiden suppresses a grin. She's got good instincts. Or perhaps the agency had sent a memo. Or maybe Collette had passed on knowledge of his preferences after he let her go. Tardiness cannot be permitted.

But Marie had the makings of a fine replacement.

The v-neck of her agency-issued dress dips just low enough to expose the gentle arc of her cleavage, its soft material hugging her every curve. She regards him timidly, but eagerly, and he knows instantly that she must be a new hire. The new ones were always eager to please.

"Let me show you the terrace," he tells her, turning and gesturing inside. She steps forward and Aiden drops a hand to the small of her back, allowing it to slide down just a little too far, and guides her inside the house, her small satchel carrying her oils clanking at her side.

"We'll be working on a terrace?" she asks, clearly not used to the concept of delivering her service outdoors.

"Oh, yes," Aiden replies, with a slight upward twitch of his lips-more a suggestion of mischief than a smile. "Don't worry, though. It's quite secluded. You'll enjoy it, I'm certain."

"I'll take your word for it," Marie quips back, something in her tone making Aiden think there might be more to her than just a timid girl. Another side, perhaps.

He guides her out the french doors to the terrace, keeping his hand there in that too-low spot, satisfied when they make their way all the way to the massage table without her squirming away or asking him to move it. But this was a practiced game for Aiden. A natural ease for finding out just how far he could go.

Marie turns away as he disrobes, but Aiden knows the effect he has on women. Certainly she's curious if nothing else.

The area is lush and verdant, trees and shrubbery turning the backyard area into what many women he'd brought here had described as a "fairy garden."

He lays down on the table and a moment later, Marie lays a blanket over his lower back and buttocks and goes to work on his muscles, working her tiny but strong fingers into his knots, kneading them until his body arches upward into her touch and she must guide him back down.

Her hands work so fast and so expertly, bringing deep bodily pleasure that whirls his head. Longing rises in him for her hands to roam beneath the blanket she had draped over him when she began, and so too something else rises.

It is as if the pleasure and yearning encapsulating his muscles has nowhere else to go, his body has no other way to cope with it than to send blood rushing down, turning his cock rigid and hard, aching for release.

It takes every bit of Aiden's willpower not to grind into the bed beneath him, just to get a bit of the satisfaction that his cock is calling out for.

He moans as Marie digs deep into the curve of his shoulder blade, running her fingers down, down, down.

"Does that . . . feel good?" Marie asks cautiously, but Aiden swears he can detect a hint of intrigue there, a double meaning to the question that he knows is Marie probing, seeing if the rumors are true. If he'll ask her.

"That's my line," he chides her, as if she were a misbehaving school girl.

"O-oh," she murmurs, then giggles.

If there was any doubt whether she wanted him to ask, it vanishes now. But then, Aiden had expected that. They always wanted him to ask. Filthy whores, all of them. All it takes is the promise of a wad of hundreds and a glance at his perfectly toned body and they turn to putty in his hand. He'd even had a few of them beg afterward, the feel of his cock in their hands leaving them wet, desperate messes. But daddy doesn't reward begging. Daddy rewards performance. Because really, the wad of cash, however enticing, is not the reward, not the tip for a job well done. No, he had a very different way of showing his gratitude.

"We, uh-we are approaching the end of our time, though," Marie informs him.

Huh, how quickly an hour passes.

"Of course," Aiden replies, and shifts under the blanket, turning to lie on his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

Now that he has rolled over, his aching cock is impossible to miss, tenting the soft fabric and twitching with hopefulness. Marie's eyes lock onto it, desire gleaming. She licks her lips as if she doesn't know she's doing it. For a long moment, Aiden lets the uncertainty linger in the air between them, turning Marie's fair cheeks a deep pink, her soft petal lips gently parted.

"Before we finish, then, Ii'd like to request a full body massage," Aiden smirks.

"That-uh, that is extra, sir," Marie stammers, clearly trying to ensure the two of them are on the same page before making a move.

"Oh, I know. That won't be a problem, I have payment prepared. Now, shall I remove the sheet or are you going to be a good girl and remove it for me?"

"I'll be a good girl, sir."

She steps around to stand by his side, and Aiden looks up at her as she pinches the towel in each hand and slowly peels it from his body, exposing his rock hard cock rising ten inches into the air, hungry. The towel falls to the floor with a soft thwump, but Aiden doesn't hear that because he is too distracted by Marie.

"Oh," she gasps, her deep brown eyes widening at the sight of his cock. The noise she makes in the back of her throat is involuntary, accidental, and oh so telling.

"Like what you see, don't you?"

Instead of answering, Marie lets out another tiny moan.

"I bet the sight of my cock gets that pussy nice and wet, doesn't it? Well, better not let that distract you from your job."

"No sir, of course not sir. May I begin?"

"What a good girl, asking for permission," Aiden purs. "You may."

With that, Marie raises her hand and runs her sweet, pink tongue up her palm, letting the saliva coat it. Twice she does this with agonizing slowness until her palm is shining and slick.

"Let me relax you, sir," she drawls, and wraps her long, slender fingers around his cock, smearing the saliva around, teasing the head and making sure his shaft is fully coated.

Aiden lets out a short sigh in response, marvelling at how soft Marie's hands are as they work their way up and down his cock, enthralling him with a twisting flick of the wrist on the upstroke.

She works slowly at first, stroking a steady rhythm, letting him waver in a comfortable limbo of pleasure, not so much that he had to fight not to cum, but enough that he was desperate that she keep going.

A moment later, she adjusts her grip, holding his cock so that with each stroke, her thumb hits that sensitive spot at the base of the head of his cock, triggering a small jerk of his legs every time they make contact.

There is longing in Marie's eyes as she stares unblinking at his engorged cock, and Aiden snaps to get her attention, switching his focus momentarily from his own pleasure to hers.

"Step closer, now."

She obeys, not missing a single beat as she strokes him.

"Use your other hand. Hitch up your skirt and pull your panties aside for daddy. I want to see how wet you are."

With painstaking deliberation, Marie runs a hand down her body, pausing to caress her tits, and tugs up the hem of her dress to reveal a lacy black thong barely big enough to contain her plump pussy lips.

"Pull them aside, Marie."

Marie follows his command, brushing her panties aside and holding them there, granting Aiden full access to her pussy. Her hand tightens around his cock as his hand inches closer, making him shudder. He swipes an index finger along her slit, relishing the juices that collect there. He takes a moment to swirl the pad of his finger around her clit, already swollen with lust.

She lets out a keening moan.

"Quiet," Aiden demands, and holds up his soaked index finger. "Clean it, whore."

Obediently, Marie inclines her head, leaning down to wrap her tender, plump lips around his finger, swirling her tongue around the tip as if it were the head of his cock and Aiden's eyes squeeze shut, a gasp escaping his lips.

He can so perfectly imagine it, her lips tight around his cock, sliding up and down, up and down. Her tongue, licking, sucking and swirling at the tip, teasing him and forcing him closer to the edge.

Marie moans around his finger.

"I thought so," he smirks with satisfaction, parting her lips with his fingers before dipping one inside her, her tight hole swallowing it. He rubs at her g-spot, firm motions in time with the jerk of her hand around his cock. He revels in the way her hole tightens around his fingers, warm and slick and drenched in her juices. What a good, wet little girl.

Removing his finger, Aiden sides it up to the peak of her slit where her clit is swollen and begging for his attention.

Her moans turn to near-screams of pleasure as he rubs in furious circles. He lets her enjoy it for a minute, working her closer and closer before switching to a new technique.

Marie's clit is so engorged in its lust for orgasm that Aiden can pinch it between his fingers, and he does. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, heightening her screams and her pleasure. And just when she seems about to climax, he releases it altogether.

"Unnf," she moans. "Please, please, sir . . . oh, god. . . please give it to me, I need it.God my clit is throbbing, please."

Her begging brings Aiden a wave of pleasure and a satisfied smirk.

"You want me to keep going, slut? You want to cum for me like the dirty whore you are? I bet you're desperate for me to finish you."

"Oh, ooh I am, sir. Please, please finish me, I need it so badly, I'm begging you. Finish me."

Aiden regards her for just a moment, assessing the waves of pleasure rolling through his aching cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. A moment later, he has made a decision.

"Finish yourself," he commands, and he can tell that she had been itching for it, aching for it, because the hand not occupied with jerking his cock flies to her clit. He takes a cruel pleasure in forcing the girl to settle for second best, knows that nothing will ever satisfy her like he could have, that the thought of his deft fingers working her clit will linger in her mind. That the memory will rise again and again. Whether she is alone or with another man, she will allow the memory to bring her surging over the edge.

And Marie seems to know it. Her hands work faster and faster, picking up pace just as both of their moans pick up volume. God, he can feel his climax coming, rising, powerful and overwhelming.

He uses his newly freed hand to wrench aside the collar of Marie's v-neck and works his hand inside her bra to pinch her hard, pointed nipples between his fingers just as he had done to her clit just a minute previously.

Perhaps this is what finally sends Marie over the edge, but Aiden senses her climax coming before she reaches it, and tells her

"That's right. Be a good girl. Cum for me, my little whore."

And she does, her body jerking and shuddering as she moans in ecstasy, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Her hand tightens around his cock as her orgasm unmakes her and puts her back together again, and the effect of it all, her hand, the pressure, her moans, her supple tits, and the way she had begged for him and the consequent pleasure of denying her sends him rocketing over the edge.

Thick, white spurts of cum ooze out of the tip of his cock, dripping down the side in hot, ropey strands.

"Clean it."

"Yes, sir," Marie says, inclining her head in a nod.

Her voice is hushed and breathless, the girl clearly still reeling from her orgasm, but still she obeys, leaning down to run her tongue over his cock, licking up every last trace of cum and leaving his cock sparkling clean. She swallows down every trace of his jizz with an innocent grin, letting bits of it smear over her lips before licking those clean, too.

"That's a good girl," Aiden tells her, running a hand over the top and down the back of her head. He rises a moment later, a satisfied tingle buzzing up and down his legs.

He crosses to a small shelf installed against the wall of the house and retrieves a wad of hundred dollar bills, counting them out for Marie and loving how greedily she stares at the cash-almost as hungrily as she had stared at his cock.

He presses the cash into her hand, pulling her close for a final squeeze of her ass for good measure.

She giggles and Aiden considers her for another moment. Yes, he thinks, she has promise, certainly. As long as she's punctual, she'll do just fine.

"I love stories with happy endings, don't you?" Aiden asks, and begins to tug on his silken robe, cinching the belt again to conceal the cock that Marie had been so desperately salivating over.

"I do," Marie confirms, her voice still breathless. "Have I performed to your satisfaction, sir?"

Aiden smirks again. "You can tell the agency to book another appointment for the same time next week. Make it a double length."

"Of course, sir," Marie tells him, infusing her voice with a tone of wide-eyed innocence and making her way back through the french doors and out the front one, leaving Aiden more than satisfied.