Penthouse

It was an upscale restaurant with three Michelin stars - of course it was. Why would he take her anywhere less than that? It's an intimate space in the middle of downtown, somehow managing to give off a homey vibe in spite of the gilded cutlery and fine china.

There are no other diners in the restaurant, only she and him. Their waiter says the kitchen is fully staffed, though for safety purposes it would just be him and a sommelier serving the two. She wanted to tell him she could pour wine herself and the sommelier should spare his own life, but instead she followed his lead and simply smiled and thanked their two servers.

The food was delicious, though she's barely aware of it. She's been on many dates with sugar daddies from various seven-figure income brackets; she knew the drill.

Smile, bite her lip once in a while, blow her eyes open in adoration, bat her lashes, execute perfectly timed "coincidental" brushes against their hands or their feet, under the table.

In no time, his business-like formality has melted into warm smiles and hand holding, his fingers caressing hers upon the pristine white tablecloth of the restaurant.

She let him ramble about the latest addition to his luxury watch collection: a special edition Patek Philippe with a little painting of Berlin's cityscape at its center, his grandparents' hometown. She dutifully leaned over his wrist to listen to its ticking, cooing oohs and aahs at the technical tidbits he rambles out, apparently this thing was a marvel of craftsmanship.

Seeing his open smile as he narrates its technical history, she felt her resentment fade away a little, her corresponding smile turning more sincere and less effortful.

He really could be quite adorable, when he got into the things he's passionate about. In anyone else, his generosity and depth of knowledge and the excitement with which he talks about them, would immediately classify him as a nerd, but with that handsome chiseled face and his luscious hair, he just looked like an insanely intelligent and fiery hottie.

She leaned into that thought. Fucking him would be easier, after all, if you don't completely hate him.

He owned a penthouse in one of the luxury apartment buildings making up the city's skyline. This was one of his bases, he owned properties in every corner of the country, of course, though these days he mostly used it for his dates with her.

One time he did offer her to stay here when he's away, but she politely declined. As tempting as living in the penthouse was, she needed her freedom.

Can't risk his household staff sniffing out her vibrators and dildos, and where was she supposed to record the videos for her OnlyFans, with them around? Luckily he responded by renting her current apartment for her, so honestly it all turned out perfectly.

"I have some business matters to take care of," he says. "Would you like to freshen up as you wait?"

He smirked. "If you go to the guest bedroom, I have a surprise waiting for you."

She smiled and snaked an arm around his, then stood on her tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You really don't have to spoil me, you know? I like you nonetheless."

"I know. But I want to. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

She let him go to his office, then went to the guest bedroom.

On the bed lay a pink Agent Provocateur box, tied with a black satin ribbon. Her heart starts pounding, curiosity tingling at the pit of her stomach. She closed the door and walked toward the box.

The ribbon slipped undone in a simple tug. She lifted the lid of the box and peeked inside.

Oh.

It was a black corset, all satin and tulle and lace, with skin-colored paneling on the breasts and down the center of the torso, giving the illusion of partial nudity, of black floral lace swirling around her nipples.

But what truly got her curious was the panties that came with it: a matching black, a thong, and barely that, because the bit that was supposed to cover her pussy was actually just a soft transparent tulle.

It was topped with more lace and a tiny black ribbon, and held together with three strings that merged at her hip before wrapping around her.

Very flimsy. Very revealing. And definitely screamed sex.

She'd known for a while that he had a lingerie fetish, but he wasn't always this open about it. He had started out subtle: an elegant Carine Gilson floor-length kimono, befitting a queen, then a matching silk dress that was luxurious but sensible, something she imagined a rich and respectable wife would wear.

And then it had gotten progressively flirtier since then: silk floaty shorts and a camisole, an ankle-length slip dress, a thigh-length kimono paired with lace-and-satin bra and shorts, then a slip dress that barely covered her ass.

But this was the first Agent Provocateur that he's got. The first that was unmistakably lingerie-for-fucking.

She felt her heart beating in her throat. The space between her legs clenches. It's gonna be quite a night.

She slipped out of her Versace dress and went to the en suite bathroom for some body lotion. Her hand stopped as she's reaching out for the bottle, she had an idea, and it painted a big grin onto her face.

She grabbed her phone out of her purse instead, propped it against the bathroom mirror, and fired up the camera.

Getting ready for sex with you could be the video title.

It should get her some hundreds, maybe thousands, of dollars. After all, this was also a job, not just a date, right? The more she could milk out of it, the better.

She let the lotion drop into her palm and then began massaging her tits, moaning as she teased her nipples. She made sure to get a close up shot of her tits, glistening with the lotion.

Her audience loved that sort of stuff. Then, when her whole body was thoroughly moisturized, she put one foot onto the counter, exposing her pussy to the camera, and started rubbing.

She closed her eyes and imagined the reason she needed to do this at all: His cock. That sexy, massive thing required her to be as wet as possible, and the more of a headstart she had, the better.

With her pussy damp, she put on the Agent Provocateur lingerie, layering it with the fit-for-a-queen kimono he gave her a while ago. Then she walked out of the room and into his office.

"Are you done?" she asked, her floor-length kimono swirling around her feet.

She'd left it open and untied, so that he could see the corset and her bare legs and her almost bare pussy.

He looked up and smiled. "I suppose I am, now."

The dark velvety charm of his voice teased goosebumps out of her skin. It was hard to not be sucked into the magnetic power of his handsomeness and what he stood for.

He wasn't merely a king; he was an emperor, and when he fucked her, it felt simultaneously like ruling an empire and being the emperor's slave. Every note in his voice reminded her of what this felt like. She's got work to do. Pleasure had a high price to pay, when she was around this guy.

She glided to a stop a few steps away from his desk, standing with her hands behind her back and chin tilted down, waiting for him to tell her his wishes.

"How do you like my gifts?" He murmured.

"How do you like them?" She returned his question gently, teasingly.

"I asked first."

"I love them."

"In what way?"

She bit her lip, dropped the pitch of her voice down into a soft huskiness, and the volume into a whisper.

"I love the feel of the silk against my naked skin. So soft, so luxurious. I love its airiness and the way it swirls around my feet. It makes me feel like a... goddess riding the wind, though I know I'm not that. And...," she paused, then raised her gaze and stared into his eyes.

"I love how it makes me feel exposed, for you."

His eyes darkened, a smile tugged one corner of his lips, so slightly; he was still the haughty emperor apart from it.

"Show me!" he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

She undid the sash of her kimono with one smooth tug, and it fell open, dropping to the floor with a whispered swish.

His eyes roamed all over her body, their icy touch making her shiver. If she weren't wet before, she definitely was now.

"Come closer."

She sauntered around the desk and stopped right by his chair. He swiveled around to face her.

"How do you like your gifts?" she asked.

"I love them," he whispered. "I wish I could see you like this every night."

"I'd dress like this every night for you."

"Good girl."

For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, him in his executive chair and she in her Agent Provocateur, trying not to drown in his intensity.

And then she said softly, "Would you like me to kiss you?"

He nodded. "Yes, of course."

She took a step forward, flashed him a shy smile. He smiled back. She put her hands on his armrests and slowly, bent down and lay her lips over his.

It was a gentle kiss at first, barely there, then more firm yet slow, his lips dragging against hers sensually. But then he pulled back, fixed her with his gaze and she knew the next time he leaned in for another taste, it would be different.

His tongue pried her lips open and found hers, taking it for a dance, gliding against hers sweetly. She let out a soft moan and he deepened the kiss, sending searing fire to her cunt.

She lets him kiss her until she's breathless, and then she just had to pull away.

His fingers reached down between her legs.

"Always ready," he whispered huskily. "How are you always wet for me?"

"Because you are an intoxicant incarnate," she said.

Then she brings her mouth to his ears, lips brushing his earlobe as she whispered, "And because I know what's in your pants."

One corner of his lips curled up.

"Not yet," he said. "The night is still young."

He stood up and put aside the papers he was working with, then with a smirk he wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her up, putting her on the desk facing him.

He took a hold of her knees and gently pushed her legs apart. Her breath hitched in excitement.

"Lean back and enjoy this. Don't be shy.""

But she was, somehow, feeling shy. His gaze in normal situations was already such an undressing one, but this one... on his desk with only a flimsy lingerie covering her nudity... legs spread open for him to see and she knew he could see even more than usual, because the crotch of her panties was transparent, and she was wet.

He took one of her legs and lifted it, hand running down her calf and grasping her ankles and, with eyes fixed on hers, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on the sole of her foot.

She gasped. "That tickles," she said giggling.

"Yeah?"

She watched transfixed as he brought her big toe into his mouth and gently sucked on it. Then with a smile he traced soft kisses down her leg, closer, closer, until he reached her thigh.

"Oh, don't stop."

"I'm just trying to decide whether to use my fingers or mouth."

"Both!"

"Greedy, aren't you?"

"No, just desperate."

He chuckled and put both feet at the edge of the desk, eyes watching her crotch as her pussy lips spread further apart for him.

"If only I could preserve this sight," he breathed.

"You could, you know. Cameras exist for a reason."

She's had some very rich clients, and she's gotten a lot of money from them for letting them record her. But somehow, the thought of letting this one man, the richest, most powerful of them all, own a recording of her for free, for his own pleasure, was more tempting than any paycheck in the world.

"It sucks terribly, that we're long distance," she said, voice velvety and dragging with lustful agony. "I think you deserve a little reminder of me, right?"

She reached for his phone, which he laid on the desk next to her, flicked the camera app open to video and handed the device to him.

"So preserve this sight, then."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered. "Especially if you promise to send me a picture of that cock every time you play the video."

He chuckled, eyes glinting dangerously. His thumb pressed on the recording button, and he pointed the camera at her. She smiled, a sexy but shy smile, his favorite, and spread her legs wider for him. He brought the camera closer to her cunt.

"Tell me why you're wet," he ordered.

"Because I can't wait for your monster cock to fill me up," she whispered, ending the sentence with a lip bite and a flush crawling up her neck and cheeks.

"Can't wait, huh?" he said. "I think you can get a little wetter, though."

He's right, of course. She needed as much lubricant as she could get, for him to even fit into her. The first time she saw his cock, she almost choked, and that was before he even got to put it down her throat.

She just knew he could've been an ultra famous porn star, with that dick, if only he ever decided to be in the profession.

She instantly wanted to throw herself at him. His size intimidated her, yes, but at the same time, the thought of him rending her... mhm.

Leaning back on one elbow, she brought her other hand between her legs and slipped a finger under the crotch of her panties, massaging her clit. She threw her head back and let out a soft moan.

"There you go," he whispered. "Good girl."

He does a close-up shot of her flicking her bud, then brings the camera along the length of her body, up her deep cleavage, and to her face.

"What are you thinking of, you goddess?"

"You, of course."

"And what am I doing, in your head?"

"You're inside me," she whispered.

"And then, inside my mouth. I'd love to devour you, if you'd let me have you."

"That's quite a violent thought."

"You know very well you're gonna be the one destroying me."

"And would you like that?"

"Yes," she moaned, the word almost a plea.

He puts the phone down and brings his lips to her chest, where her nipples are standing erect against the flimsy lace of her bra. He took one nipple between his lips and sucked hard, flicking his tongue against it as his fingers teased the other nipple.

With a scream of pleasure, she arched her back and thrust her chest at him, finger desperately rubbing her clit.

And his hand suddenly joined hers, pushing the fabric of her panties aside as he hooked two fingers into her cunt, plunging in and out, in and out, rough and quick, until screams teared at her throat and her whole body quivered.

He pulled away from her nipple and grabbed his phone again, just in time to film the squirt gushing from her cunt, accompanied with her racy moan.

"Good girl, good girl," he praised as she collapsed on the desk, panting.

"Oh my, I'm not sure I can ever work at this desk again. How could I? Now it smells like you and sex? And your panties...,"he tsked--"I think it's ruined."

She felt the lace sticking to her skin, soaked through with the orgasm he coaxed out of her with just two fingers. She knew if she looked down, she would find a pool of squirt on the desk right under her ass.

"Happy to contribute to the company, sir," she said jokingly.

"But sorry for destroying company property."

"You deserve a bonus and a punishment," he smirked.

She smirked back, bringing her foot to trace the outline of his dick straining against his pants. Whatever was in there was at least as long as her foot and almost as wide.

"May I?" she whispered. He nodded.

She pushed herself up until she was sitting upright on the desk, then took the phone away from his hand and lay it on the table, switching to the front camera so that it still recorded a glimpse of the two, albeit at an awkward angle.

She pulled him closer, staring into his eyes as she worked his belt buckle open. She pushed his pants and briefs down until they fell to the floor. His cock sprang alive in its entire twenty five centimeters girthy glory.

She took it in her hands, gently. He gave a small gasp as her skin came in contact with his, and it made her lips curl up in a soft smile.

"Did you miss my touch?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

His eyes burned with lust, but there was a note of longing, something almost like vulnerability, in his voice.

She ran one finger along his length as her other hand cupped his balls. She marveled at the contrast between his velvet-soft skin and the hardness underneath, between his heavy balls and the sharp ridges of veins along his shaft.

He's glorious, an Adonis with a cock that god must've taken eons to sculpt.

She almost felt guilty for reducing him only to his dick, but hell, this perfection was worthy of a guilty verdict for objectification.

She ran her fingers through her pool of squirt on the desk, picking up the liquid and lathering it over his cock. He watched in disbelief as she continued coating him in her spilled orgasm, and the next time their eyes met, his gaze turned feral.

"Let me take care of you," she said as her hands began pumping up and down his length and around his tip.

He moaned and captured her lips, kissing her deeply. It was like he wanted to match with his tongue what she was doing with her hands, drawing moans from deep out her throat even as he groaned more, even as his cock grew throbbing hot in her hands.

She dipped two fingers into her pussy, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up between her legs as she picked up more of her juices to wet him.

"I think we're both ready now," she whispered against his lips.

"Yeah? Are you sure you want me?" he whispered back.

The words sound almost like a tease, except that they are accompanied with a quick glance down at his cock.

That tiny glimpse of self-awareness among his rock-hard confidence was what convinced her the first time she spent the night with him, the reason she allowed him to stretch her almost to ripping. How powerful did it make her feel, to take him whole, this god who was too much for most mortals; she almost came just from seeing his balls flush against her entrance, his whole shaft buried inside her.

"I want all of you. Do whatever you want to me, as long as you give me you."

He grunts and lays the whole weight of his lust on her with one look. He strips off his shirt, baring his well-sculpted abs, and that was how she knew the night has really started.

She leant back onto her back, closing her eyes as he slid her panties down and away.

She closed her eyes when she felt his tip pushing against her. This part was always best done in slow motion, every microsecond savored, and he knew that too.

His dick parted her slowly, entering her carefully, stretching her little by little. His thumb flicked against her clit, bidding her to relax and welcome him as he worked his whole length into her. The phone was back in his hand, recording his progress.

"Good girl," he whispered and gave her a deep slow kiss, her reward. One final thrust, and she felt his balls against her ass.

"No one fills me like you do," she told him, staring up at his smoldering eyes and lust-colored face, framed with his arms. His hands are on either side of her head, phone temporarily set down.

"And no one takes me like you do," he said.

He traced a finger along her lips, and she opened her mouth, obediently sucking on him.

"Such a good girl."

He straightened up and started pumping in and out, long slow strokes that made her moan. She was glad he's resumed his recording; the thought of his girth inside her and stretching her always gets her going, and maybe after tonight she wouldn't have to conjure the scene in her head again, she could just watch it.

And she's clearly not the only one turned on by that prospect. He picks up his pace, grunts leaving his lips more often, eyes transfixed by his phone screen.

"Take off your bra," he ordered.

She does as he says, freeing her tits.

"Beautiful," he whispered, "beautiful."