The Contractor and the Chairman

She wanted to touch herself but he'd told her to keep her hands down. Just feel him, he'd said. Just experience his penis inside of her. Focus on it. Focus. Focus.

"Ohhh," she groaned, and her entire body started to quake. He was fucking her in long steady strokes, giving her the time to catch his rhythm with her own. The orgasm that hit her was strong and powerful, forcing her eyes up and into the back of her head.

"More... more," she said, only semi-aware of what she was saying. He continued on. It became a blur. His dick. Her pussy. Orgasm. Repeat.

Time became malleable. She had no idea how long he had been fucking her, or how many times she had come. She looked up at the painting on the wall, some print of a lighthouse on the cliffs of some island somewhere. Then it looked like the sun was going down over those cliffs. It was growing dark.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognized the tunnel vision. She was going to black out. It was going to happen. She didn't even feel her head fall.

When she came to, she found her face pressed onto the mattress, her ass still in the air, and her pussy still being fucked. She must have only been out for a second or two. She didn't even know if Jerome knew what happened.

She did notice, however, that her pussy was getting raw. She didn't want him to stop, but after months of disuse she was no longer habituated to long, drawn out sessions of sex. Besides, she desperately wanted to feel him explode inside her.

There was no way for him to know this, though. She had to tell him. She had to give him the clue that was what she wanted. But her mouth wouldn't work. Breathing was difficult from the exertion, even though he had been doing almost all of the work.

"Please," she croaked. "Come inside me."

"What?" Jerome asked. He'd heard her, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

"I said," she gasped, "I want to feel you shoot inside me. Please."

She felt him pick up the pace. He'd been keeping himself steady for her sake, she realized. Now, though, he was taking her for his own purpose. His own pleasure. Now she was learning what he wanted, how he liked it.

Jerome let go of her hips and stopped moving. For a crazy moment she wondered if she had offended him, somehow. Then she felt his hands in her hair and bunch them up in his left fist. He pressed himself all the way into her so that his thighs were tightly pressed up against hers once more, pulled her hair until she felt trapped and sandwiched between the pressure on her head and his muscular legs. She had almost no room for movement.

Then he started to fuck her.

She wasn't sure what she would have called what he was doing before, but by comparison it was but a mere appetizer. He was guiding her back onto his cock harder and faster than he'd done before. He wanted it rough, and she was okay with that. She wanted to be taken, and he was possessing her. Wanted to feel his cock rise with arousal until he couldn't take it any more, until she thought she might pass out again.

She wanted to feel Jerome - the Chairman of the organization and one of the most stoic people she'd ever met - to lose control. And she wanted to be the one who made that happen. He was going to lose it, and it was all because of her. Her mind flashed to Leslie and Ellen. Did they want to make him lose control? They had a lot of respect for him. Did they want him too?

Well, too bad.

She gripped the bedspread in her fingers, curling them tightly. She wanted to touch her clit but she was afraid that if she did she would lose her balance. The pulling of her hair helped keep in place, but her arms were the only thing keeping her from collapsing into a jellied heap.

So that's why he wanted me to keep my hands on the bed, she thought crazily.

She tried to focus, but there were too many sensations. He was pounding into her, a madman of desperate need and desire. His cock felt so good and she wanted to remember it. Her dildo wouldn't come close to giving her the excitement that she was feeling now, but her imagination would definitely help when she masturbated tomorrow.

Besides she was feeling his balls slap against her clit with every thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

She clenched and squeezed involuntarily. "I'm gonna come, Brie!" he announced.

"Yes!" she replied, and braced herself.

She felt him grow inside her and his pace increased. He gripped her hips tighter. She imagined her pussy naturally get prepared to accept his offering. This was it. She was going to make him lose control. She felt the tension in his fist through her hair as he couldn't help himself and pulled her back onto him more forcefully.

He practically shouted when he came, a roar that most certainly had been heard through the hotel walls. A split second later she felt a rush of liquid inside her. It triggered something, a powerful feel of emotion. It made her feel... feminine. Even more than that, she felt a powerful feeling of triumph.

He buried himself as far as he could go. The head pressed against her cervix and pulsed. The front of his thighs pressed hard against the back of hers, and he kept her hips pulled back against him. His cock jumped and bounced inside her with a mind of its own. She adored the feeling. It was so alive, so vibrant. She had missed that feeling of a man's penis emptying into her. It gave her a different feeling of longing.

Brie also felt a profound feeling of accomplishment. She had gotten to observe something that no one else had. Jerome had shown a part of himself that he deliberately kept hidden from the other members or staff. Suddenly she realized that no one else could see this part of him. He would lose control of the organization, possibly lose his position. There were people who counted on him. Who was going to take his place, that wretched Vice-Chair? That would be disastrous. The entire organization would be defunct within six months.

No, she was in a unique position - literally - for helping Jerome just like he had helped her. It gave her a small sense of pride. None of it overcame the physical feeling of relief and exhaustion, but it did float in the back of her mind as a loose thought. What they had done was taboo, yes, but also very good. For both of them.

She didn't want him to let her go. She wanted to feel him like that, pulsing spastically in the aftermath, for hours. He kept himself buried as deep as possible, but she felt the inevitable shrinking as his cock began to lose its turgidity. Reluctantly he let her hair go completely. He stayed buried as much as he could, but her pussy muscles naturally began to expel him even as she tried to use them to hold him there.

He had stayed hard after his first orgasm, but the second was apparently his limit. Finally he slipped out and the sensitive head brushed across her pussy lips and forced him to jerk backwards. He caressed her ass a little with his hands, before moving away from her.

"Why don't you use the bathroom first," he suggested. His voice was low and husky, but calm.

She nodded, shocked to find that she didn't have much of a voice. "Mm hmm," she agreed.

She swung her legs around, and stretched her arms. She had no idea how long she had been in that position. It was only now that she realized that they had locked up. Getting off the bed was no better, as she found that her legs were too wobbly. She collapsed back onto the bed with a small yelp, and then giggled. He laughed, and then made a move to help her back onto her feet. She accepted the assistance, and managed to stumble her way into the restroom.

He watched her go with some amusement, and grabbed a handtowel from the sink so that he could dry himself off. He'd jump in the shower after she'd left. He took the time to reflect on the past several minutes. She'd made a lot of noises, but he wasn't sure if she even knew that she was doing it.

In any case, she definitely seemed to enjoy herself. This was good. He had sensed frustration from her all week. He hoped that he had been able to relieve some of her stress the way she had relieved his.

When she came out of the bathroom, she had a huge grin on her face. That gave him his answer. Her dress had shifted down so that you'd never have known she had just been fucked within an inch of her life. That is, if she hadn't had the massive post-coital flush on her face giving everything away.

"I think those are mine," she said, indicating her shredded underwear still lying lifeless on the bed.

He laughed, and then picked them up to hand to her. She took them, and tried to twirl them around her finger, forgetting that they had been ripped completely apart. They flung across the room and hit the wall.

"Ooops," she said, giggling.

"So much for that," Jerome said, smiling.

It was simply shredded string at that point. "Oh well," she said. She bent over and picked them up. "You have a trash bin?"

He held out his hand. "Sure, I'll do it."

She held out the tattered underwear but then stopped and changed her mind. "On second thought," she said, "I'll keep it."

He shrugged. "As you like."

She took a look in the mirror and realized that she was about to partake in an age-old tradition. "Walk of shame," she said, but she smiled as she said it.

He grinned and looked at his watch. "I don't think you'll have to worry about much of an audience," he said.

She returned the grin and turned towards the door.

"Brie," he called. She turned back to look at him. "Good luck." He was being friendly, but she knew what he meant. She thanked him, and left his room. The door clicked softly behind her.

Once again she was reminded about how insightful he was, how intelligent. He'd read her like a book, and she seriously considered what he'd said. How had he known that about her when she didn't even know?

In turn, that reminded her of who she had just fucked. It was amazing how he could just turn it on and off. One moment he could be a casual, friendly guy, and in another he was one of the most powerful men in the industry. It made her head spin.

She could still feel his warmth inside her. It was a ghostly sensation, but very real. She was tempted to turn around and get him to fuck her again. She could stand up to the wall and press her hands against it and he could ravish her pussy again. He could lie her on the bed and sick his prick down her throat. He could have her stand in the room and she could bend over and place her palms flat on the floor while he fucked her silly. She was raw as hell, but she would happily do it if he was up for it.

Instead, she made her way back to her room. Her flight was still early in the morning, and she hadn't packed. Still, she felt better than she had earlier in the night. She had gone to his room to apologize and try to save her contract, and left feeling more comfortable in her own skin than she had in ages.

Oh, and thoroughly fucked. She couldn't help but press her hand against her pelvis and imagined she could still feel his hot wax deep in her box.