Meeting My Match

It was getting late and I still had one more meeting. I tapped my pen on the desk, impatient to be finished for once, already dreaming of the steaming hot bath and accompanying glass of cold Chardonnay that I had promised myself to make up for this long day.

I glanced at the clock – still 5 minutes before the appointment, I had time for a coffee and a walk to stretch my muscles a little. I stretched my arms above my head, linking my fingers and leaning back in my chair, forcing life into my tiring limbs. I pushed myself to my feet and went in search of a caffeine kick.

The offices were all empty as I wandered the length of the building, sipping my over brewed coffee and feeling the tension ebb from me a little. It was stressful, having so much responsibility at such a young age, but it was good stress I felt, leading me to push myself harder, to take on the extra work, and to never miss a deadline, or fail to cover all the bases.

I was determined to get on in my career through my talents and attention to detail, and be noticed for all the right reasons. Not because I wiggled around the office in my little tight skirts, batting my eyelashes and pouting my impossibly pink lips whenever the world threatened to not go my way.

My lip curled a little as I thought of Suzy, pretty little Suzy, not a thought in her head, nor a care in the world it seemed, blatantly flaunting herself and giggling, confident that her full and glossy lower lip with its hint of a tremble would be enough to deflect any complaints that her inadequate work might cause. If the old fools that doted on her could only hear her laughing and bitching about their gullibility in the ladies bathroom during her frequent breaks. Men! Just let her try her flattery on a female boss and see where it got her. I smirked a little, imagining myself in that role. I was getting there, and more quickly than was usual, mainly thanks to my determination and hard work, putting in the hours to gain the experience lacking due to my relative youth.

A sudden draught lifted my hair, and I smoothed it with my free hand, tucking the stray strands behind my ears. I had left my jacket over the back of my chair when I went for my coffee, and I missed its warmth now, as the heating had obviously gone off for the evening and a chill was settling on the building. I quickened my pace, realising that I had already been gone for my allotted 5 minutes, and the contact I was expecting would be waiting, probably wondering just what kind of a slack operation we were running here. As a result, I was nearly running when I reached my office and as I entered and noted the expensive suit and a sleek head of dark hair, I started to apologise for the delay, mindful that I was the interviewer here, so it wouldn't do to babble, a brief word of polite contrition would suffice.

These thoughts ended abruptly as he rose and turned to take my proffered hand, leaving me staring into a face I had only recently succeeded in erasing from my dreams...

As if in slow motion, my coffee in its vending plastic cup fell to the floor, and I remained frozen, his hand grasping mine. It took all my strength to shake his hand, instead of pulling back, and a greater effort to force my voice to stay low and even, as I answered the platitudes you use on these occasions. "How are you, you're looking well, gosh you are the last person I expected to see here," all those trite phrases, you know the ones I am sure.

He was as I'd always remembered him, totally in control of himself, smiling slightly; eyes holding mine as he spoke, although I barely registered the words.

I was paralysed and lost in memories under his gaze, 18 again, full of the enthusiastic arrogance and bravado of youth. Just learning about the incredible pleasures to be found if you were prepared to learn, and accept that you didn't know everything, in spite of your private education and boundless belief in your own charms. This man had unleashed feelings and desires in me that had taken me the last 3 years to bury and within the space of 30 seconds of being in his presence I was an eager child again, waiting for the teacher's commands and craving only his approval. If I didn't break away soon, I would be begging for him to touch me and I would be under his spell all over again.

And then his eyes released mine and I pulled away, blushing, already reaching for tissues to mop up the coffee spillage and give me something to do instead of dumbly staring at him. I crouched there, dabbing at the stain in the carpet, saying anything I could think of, filling the silence that might otherwise have led to recriminations and questions, or, worse, tears and pleadings. After all, he had left me with barely an explanation. Oh sure he said it was for my benefit, that I needed to experience life, other relationships, to find out what it was that I truly wanted. Of course what he really meant was that I was too clingy, too young, maybe not passionate enough, or just generally not girlfriend material. Whatever the reason, he didn't want me, not the way I wanted him, and that hurt.

When I could find no more liquid, and my words had dried up, I risked a glance up at him. My heart leapt when I saw him standing over me, a look that I recognised in his eyes. His hand reached for me, and I took it and let him pull me to my feet. When I went to move, he held onto my hand, but I snatched it away, snapping

"Never touch me again! That right is no longer yours."

And I dropped the tissues into the bin and hurried behind my desk, grimacing at my melodramatic turn of phrase. I grabbed my jacket and thrust my arms into its sleeves, not daring to look at him. As I struggled, I felt his hand on my collar, helping me on with it. I pulled away again, nerves raising my voice to an unpleasantly shrill pitch.

"I said don't touch me!"

"Don't be so childish" he replied mildly, straightening my lapels, and then brushing one of those errant strands of hair back from my flushed face.

Crack!

A red mark appeared on his cheek, and my hand stung. I stared at the mark in horrified fascination as it glowed and took on the shape of fingers and a palm. The shock on his face did something strange to me, and I felt a release of tension, and I giggled. I clapped my hand to my mouth, as if to hold it shut, but another explosive laugh burst through, and then I was leaning against the wall, tears rolling down my cheeks, howling hysterically, unable to stop laughing, but feeling the humour rapidly draining from the situation. It went completely when I looked over at him, and I saw him throw his jacket over the chair, and advance on me looking murderous. The imprint of my hand, still plain to see, no longer seemed funny.

I held my hands out in front of me as if to ward him off.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that..." I stammered, as I backed myself into a corner – literally. I felt the filing cabinets at my back and realised I had nowhere left to go. And still he came on.

I held my breath and pressed hard back against the cabinets, wishing he would say something rather than just keep coming towards me with that chilling look on his face. I swallowed and tensed as he stopped in front of me, and felt my legs threatening to buckle.

He just stood there, looking me slowly up and down, but giving no indication whether what he saw pleased him or not.

"Turn around, slowly" he ordered.

"W-what? Why?"

He sighed. "Don't make me ask again. Turn around, a full circle, slowly"

He spoke slowly and calmly, as if instructing a simpleton.

Trembling nervously I did as he said, wondering what he was up to, and cursing the fact that quite clearly I wasn't over him, and probably never would be.

"Nice suit. Get it from 'Bitches R Us' did you?"

His words were sweetness itself, but his look was acid.

I stared blankly at him, lost for words.

"Seems as if you've been climbing the corporate ladder and learnt a few dirty tricks along the way. Let's see what else you've learnt"

With that he lunged forward and crushed my lips with his, burying one hand in my hair and pulling my head back, banging it against the cabinet. I opened my mouth to protest and he filled it with his tongue, exploring and probing, and grinding my lips onto my teeth till I tasted blood.

The other hand sought out one of my breasts, grabbing it hard and squeezing rhythmically, kneading it, and roughly handling the tender flesh till I was sobbing against his mouth. He pulled back slightly, and his tongue flicked across the soft inside of my lips, stinging as it lapped at the blood seeping from the cuts made by my teeth.

His hand left my breast and I thankfully gulped back the tears, but the relief was short-lived.

He forced his leg between mine, kicking them wide, and grabbed my skirt and pulled it up. His hand rubbed along my crotch, mashing the satin into my body and sending a thrill up my spine. He dragged the silky fabric back and forth across my clit, and as my treacherous body started to respond, lubrication flowed forth and soaked my panties. I moaned, slumping against the cabinet as waves of sensation washed over me. I badly wanted to sink onto his hand and let him make me come. My arms had already started to reach for him, and I was kissing him back fervently. My mind was berating me for my weakness, but it was fighting a losing battle. My body wanted him.

"So who've you fucked to get this office?" he whispered in my ear, as effectively turning me off as a bucket of cold water.

"Well you for a start" I retorted, stung by the inference. "And you're fucked again now. You'll never get this contract"

Anger and the high at having made a good retort in the face of such pain lent me strength, and I shoved him off of me and tried to dart past him.

I failed.

He grabbed my wrist, and spun me to face him again. Then he pushed my jacket off of my shoulders and down over my arms, pinning them behind me as tightly as any ropes could. He smiled at me as he kicked my feet from under me, and I crashed down backwards onto my desk, scattering the few sheets of paper that still required my attention. Another second and he was stood between my legs and enjoying my futile struggles to sit up. He reached down and tore my blouse open, sending buttons flying across the room. I shivered as the cold air hit me, and I felt my nipples harden. I yelled at him in anger to get off me, and leave me alone. My rage fuelled by the knowledge that it wasn't just the cold air making my tits all perky, oh no, I was getting turned on by this! I was enjoying it all, - the strength of his determination, the added naughtiness of being at work and the thrill of fear that ran through me at the thought of what he might do next. It was intoxicating!

He tucked his thumbs under the band of my bra and with one smooth motion ripped it apart, leaving me naked and gasping at the sudden shock of the violence he used.

As I struggled on the desk my breasts jiggled around, and his eyes followed them, admiring the view it seemed. Then he was on them, hand and mouth, moulding one and suckling the other. I felt my nipple, rock hard and yet so sensitive, pressing into his palm as he palpated the mound of flesh. His lips pulled on its twin, drawing it out and releasing it with a smacking noise, then returning for more, circling it with the lightest flick of his tongue, then sucking it brutally hard through his teeth and deep into the wet heat of his mouth, making me arch my back and thrust it towards him, crying out loud as I did so. Just noises, no words…

My movements had brought me to the edge of my desk and the iron of his thigh muscles were pressing against my dampness now. I moved my hips up and down, rubbing myself against his leg, wrapping my own around it in an effort to press even harder.

His mouth left my swollen breast, and nibbled its way upward till it reached my ear, then it asked,

"Now who's being fucked?"

I closed my eyes and whispered,

"I am"

"And do you want to be?"

Came the question I had feared, and I gave the only answer I could.

A very quiet -

"Yes."

His hands lifted me further back up the desk, and then my knickers were peeled off me, and cast aside. He pushed my ankles up onto the desk, and pressed my knees wide apart, opening me up to his gaze. I blushed crimson as he seemed to be taking a very good look, making me pay for the slap by this humiliating visual examination. I felt his fingers digging into my thighs, stretching me wider, making my pelvis thrust forward as if offering its contents to him.

His thumb pressed hard onto my swollen clit and I bucked and cried out, then groaned in relief as I felt him slip a finger inside me, rapidly followed by another. My muscles clamped eagerly round them, and he slowly frigged me, pushing further into me, all the time pressing hard with his thumb. I gyrated my hips in an effort to get his thumb moving, to rub that tender little nub of flesh and set off the fireworks that were building up there.

Then he was pulling away, leaving me frustrated and pleading for more. I looked up, and he was gone. I swivelled my head frantically, hoping he wasn't going to leave me like this, lying over my desk in ripped clothes, legs wide, desperate to be screwed.

I heard him before I saw him. From behind my head, I heard the zip pulled, and the grunt as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers, then my face was turned to one side and I was looking straight at his cock. It never was small, but from this angle it appeared to have obtained gargantuan proportions. He rubbed the head across my lips, leaving a trail of moisture there, which I darted my tongue out and licked off, swallowing exaggeratedly letting loose an "Mmmmm" of pleasure as I did so, knowing that would provoke him.

He growled and thrust forward, holding my head in place with my hair as he forced himself into my willing mouth. My lips formed a tight 'O' around the shaft, and I could only take half the length before I was gagging as it nudged the back of my throat. He pulled back and started fucking my mouth with short quick thrusts, pulling my head forward to meet him on the in stroke, hissing at me to suck his big dick hard like the bitch that I was, and swallow what he gave me if I knew what was good for me. The nasty words nearly made me come there and then, and I moaned my compliance and sucked as hard and as fast as I was able.

I had my heels braced on the very edge of the desk and I was thrusting my hips at nothing, unable to help myself, when I felt him move slightly, then something flat and hard scraped across my pussy. I tried to move my face away from his pounding and see what it was, but he yanked my hair, forcing me back to his cock, and I cried out as he slapped my pussy hard with the object. It stung, but sent a flash of ecstasy ripping through me. I arched my back, as he scraped it down the inside of my thigh, and across my lips again, before delivering another stinging blow. Again and again he slapped me, and each time the pain was exquisite. I tried to close my legs when I thought I couldn't take any more, but that just earned me two hard blows across my nipples, which left me crying with the pain, so I spread my legs out wide again, and waited for him to finish. He pulled his cock from my mouth and made me shuffle further across the desk, so that my head and shoulders were hanging down over the edge.

I could hardly feel my arms by now, they were numb from having all my weight pressing on them. But I knew from past experience of him it would do no good to complain. I just had to take my punishment. And it seemed there was more to come.

With my head now lower, he straddled my face, and demanded that I lick his balls. The hair tickled my nose, and I had to fight back the urge to sneeze.

I ran my tongue along the ridge of flesh under them, just the hard, moist tip of it, and even surprised him into giving a little jump.

I started on one ball, carefully, dreading the consequences of hurting him.

I rolled it around in my mouth, squeezing it gently between the roof and my tongue. He pressed himself down onto my face, telling me that was better, I was being a good girl now, and promising that I'd feel the contents soon if I behaved.

His words emboldened me, and I sucked a little harder as I swapped over, feeling the ball inside his sack with my tongue as I did so, circling it and rubbing at it, figuring he could stand some roughness too. God I felt so dirty! And that feeling made me want his spunk so badly, wherever he cared to put it.

He parted my pussy lips, exposing the tender area inside, and told me to stop sucking. When I'd complied he tapped my throbbing clitty, and said he had some questions for me, and I'd better pray that he believed the answers. He moved off me, and went around the desk, till once again he was stood between my thighs.

Then he made me tell him in graphic detail about the men I had been with since him, and how I had come to be in such a good position at my age, if not through using my physical charms.

It was less humiliating having to confess to the men, all two of them, than it was to have him thinking I would sleep with someone to gain promotion. So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and answered him.

His questions were blunt.

Why only 2? When were they? How long had they lasted? Had I enjoyed them? Had I let them come in my mouth? (Something I'd always refused to do with him, and which seemed to be a pet niggle...)

There had only been two, because after the second I had felt so disillusioned by men that I decided I'd be better off concentrating on my career. At least I got some satisfaction from that, and I was the one in control.

The first was soon after he had left me, and I saw him for a month. The second was 6 months later, and he lasted for 3 whole days.

No, I hadn't particularly enjoyed them; in fact I had felt nothing much at all, despite one of them fucking me in all sorts of positions for nearly an hour, till I had to fake an orgasm to get him off of me.

No, neither of them had come in my mouth. Not anywhere in me in fact, as I had insisted upon the use of condoms, even for oral sex, partly due to the terrible prevalence of Aids in the news at the time.

And, I burst out furiously, for his information, I had got this far in the company because I was bloody good at what I did, and I was prepared to work hard and learn quickly, not because I laid back and fucked my way ahead!

I struggled vainly in a fit of violent rage to free myself from my jacket sleeves, suddenly overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. I thrashed around, kicking out, feeling my heart pounding as the anger in me welled up and I screamed at him, venting my feelings in language I wouldn't have cared for my superiors to hear.

He stared down at me for a few moments, and then he grabbed my ankles, pulled them up to his shoulders, and leaning forward onto my legs he thrust himself forward into me in one hard long stroke.

In spite of being wet I was unprepared for him, and I cried out in pain, as he pushed deep inside me. He withdrew slightly then leant on me again, going further in this time, lubricating his shaft with my juices, pulling back and then easing his way into me again, taking his time and being gentle with me, gentle but insistent.

He dropped my legs and slid my bottom forward to the edge of the desk, taking care to still keep me impaled on his cock. He pushed the jacket off me, finally freeing my arms, and taking my face in his hands he kissed it, dropping little feathery touches of his lips all over my flushed skin.

I melted into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close whilst kissing me deeply and softly. As my arms tingled back into life I reached out to him, running my hands over his chest and back, feeling the warmth and strength that I had been denied for so long.