At Her Service - Their Power

[DISCLAIMER - Ask and receive explicit consent in any form. ALWAYS.]

"You froze in the room. Why?"

Hemi Malosi's deceptively calm voice reverberates around the spacious room, reminding Christopher he is still a force of nature. Partially tamed by his princess, Niamh, but still cataclysmic nonetheless.

"I saw her ring" Christopher breathes out, conveniently leaving out the part where he was thanking the skies for sending him a potential miracle.

"So? I saw it as well. You act as if it's your first time seeing a Mistress."

"Are you disappointed?"

Hemi breathes out. "You know how much I despise when you zone out during hustle hours. We have times to play, and times to work."

The man approaches Christopher, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Am I being punished, daddy?" Christopher murmurs lowly, a sensual rush creeping in his body.

"Would you like that?" Hemi approaches from behind, descending his hand on Christopher's stomach.

"Yes" came the weakened answer from the powerful business tycoon growing an immense bulge for his 2nd in command.

Hemi laughs sexily, gripping Christopher's swollen cock through his luxurious suit pants. As he moans while grinding his hips, Hemi kisses the back of his neck, licking the skin, then finally biting it.

Hemi pushes Christopher on his large wooden desk, pressing his large hand on his face cheek. He pushes down his employer and best-friend's legs, smacking him hard. Christopher grunts, then moans.

"Shhh. You know you can't make a sound, right?"

"No, I can't, daddy."

Christopher bites his lips and closes his eyes. This is what he wants, what he needs -- for his 2nd in command to do what he does best, to command him.

"Count for daddy" Hemi caresses his cheek, then smacks him.

"One."

SMACK.

"TWO."

SMACK.

"THREE."

And this goes on. Every palm landing on his ass is painful, stinging, and oh so delicious. By the 7th blow, his cheeks were red, and Christopher was slightly tearing while pre-cum was leaking into his jockstrap.

Hemi squeezes his cheeks, making Christopher gasp and moan lowly. Then, he reaches Christopher's ear, biting his earlobe. As Hemi grinds his hardened cock on his willing participant, he whispers:

"You better get your fucking shit together buddy. You're not about to get my business fucked up, because you're a man-whore who can't focus. Either you straighten up, or I'll straighten you. Understood?"

A spike of fear blooms into Christopher's entire body. He knows what that means. Yet... his cock only drips more, pulsing at the thought.

"Y-yes... daddy."

Christopher greedily sucks on Hemi's fingers while the man holds his neck firmly with his other hand, still grinding his hips. The heat emanating from both men is quite searing. It has always been this way. But Hemi understands he must retreat.

His threat was understood.

He does so by backing away from his boss, slowing his breathing, then stretching to gradually allow his blood flow to course throughout his body. His own bulge is now gone. On the other hand, Christopher remains in position, waiting for permission to move, but really not wanting to do anything. He wants to be fucked. His leaking dick proves it.

"You can move now. Clean up, and we'll head out. Niamh's waiting for us at the bistro."

Christopher nods and heads to the bathroom. He hears the door shut, indicating Hemi's departure, so he quickly removes his jockstrap to stroke his cock. Being an absolute masochist, he squeezes his ass, almost yelling as he strokes fast, loving both the sting and the rush.

He thinks of her, the lady in the conference room. He imagines them two in the elevator, here at night. With a beautiful suit and a cup-less bra, looking at him like the meal he knows she sees him as. He imagines himself sucking on her ringed finger while she taps his balls with high heel shoes he gifts her. He imagines her wicked smile adorning her gorgeous face, and knows Hemi would be there, also smirking while observing the entire exchange.

He's now panting, fucking his own fist while his other hand grabs his other ass cheek. I must stay focused! I don't need her! Yet he imagines it's her hand slapping his ass, making it sting painfully -- not his. This sends him over the edge.

He grunts, closing his eyes as jets of hot cum shoot out to hit the toilet bowl seat cover. The remaining flowing white river streams down his hand, and he watches in both awe and concern as to what he'd just done.

This woman already has his balls in the palm of her hands. And she doesn't even know it.

M.E.