The Device

Later, deeper into the evening, he seduced Erin with the medallion. He took her to the hot tub where she demonstrated her obedience: bubbly blowjob foreplay and a submerged-to-the-waist cowgirl fuck. His thoughts looked forward to autumn rendezvouses, maybe even bedroom trios. He released Erin to dress and return to the crowd. As the party wound down, Peter thanked his hosts and took his leave.

The next day, he went early to his sometimes office, a small suite in a downtown office tower. He prepped Karen, his part-time secretary, about what might be a raucous meeting. She should stay out of the conference room and let him handle the rough-mannered visitors.

The rival mobsters arrived mid-morning. They wanted to appear respectable and put on a legitimate show of a business-style negotiation, a tilt to the American customs, not the bloody dark cellar interrogations that were their usual style with the lesser gangsters back in Russia.

They even brought along Natasha, their attorney: a strict-looking female legal eagle, clad in a short-skirted, tight-waisted wool business suit. Her black hair was slicked back in a professional-style back bun. Her deep black eyes peered through erudite librarian glasses, adding to her assertive appearance. Her makeup and jewelry were muted but quietly announced an underlying opulence that she didn't need to overtly flaunt. She was successful, confident, and knew it. And so did everyone else who saw her and wisely offered her the earned respect she demanded.

The conference room was mid-sized, enough for five or six people to fit comfortably in high-backed leather chairs around a central table. It fit the serious tone of the negotiations. Peter made his offer: payments over time as a percentage of his street revenues until the debt was satisfied. The opposites countered at a higher value, which Peter complained would crimp his cash flow and ultimately fail his operations, thereby falling short of the total amount owed. There was doubt about his purported limits and the discussions became heated.

The lady lawyer was especially stern in her remarks and Peter wasn't accustomed to being the target of such harsh feminine vehemence. His verve was up, some from the testy arguments, some from his macho fantasies of subverting this bitch's dominance to his own. His soft cock strangely buzzed from the edgy turmoil.

Lunchtime approached and Peter suggested a break. Maybe some good food at a local restaurant would cool and calm the tensions, when everyone was less hungry, maybe less angry. It sounded like a good idea and the bulky Russians rose to file out, expecting their fierce lawyer to trail along. Peter lingered behind and caught the lawyer's attention just as the others disappeared towards the elevators.

"Could you wait a moment? There's something I need to tell you."

She turned back his way as her clients continued onward, using her habitual humorless tone.

"What?!"

He fingered the medallion as he spoke to her, his hand patting the tabletop.

"I want to fuck you. Right here, right now."

Her strict expression evaporated and her eyes dulled. She seemed in a mild daze, one hand wiping her brow as the other gently removed and lowered her glasses, folding them and placing them in a jacket pocket.

Peter moved around her to close and lock the conference room door. He returned to her side where she simply awaited his instructions. He patted the tabletop again and pointed at the far end.

"Up here, bitch, on your back. I want your skirt pulled up, ass pushed to that edge and your legs spread."

Natasha obeyed silently. She stepped one swanky high heel on a chair's cushion and mounted the table, slumping onto her hands and knees. She slinked sexily to the far end, to the spot where Peter had moved and awaited her capitulation. She laid over on her back, rucked up her skirt and crab waddled her ass cheeks the remaining distance forward, spreading her dark nylon-hosed thighs. Her calves dangled over the edge and Peter moved between her knees. Clutching her stiletto heels, he placed the narrow rear struts on the table edge, forcing her to raise and bend her knees.

"Hold them there. Don't let them go."

She whimpered a resistant sound but grasped the long spikes, one in each hand, and splayed her knees wider.

Peter reached for her chest and unfastened the jacket's two big buttons, flicking the panels aside. He contemplated her blouse, an expensive starched pleated affair, entirely suitable for a serious business meeting. He plucked the neck button and meant to continue nice and gentle with the rest. But he remembered her tone during the discussions and his resentment boiled up. Nice and gentle wasn't her nature so he responded in kind.

He gripped the neck collars and ripped them wide apart. The line of buttons popped and button holes tore at the violent act, opening the ripped fabric to her waist. It exposed her fully packed lacy bra cups, their corpulent packages rising up and down as her chest expanded and contracted with her anxious deep breathing.

Obviously, she hadn't anticipated this turn of events; the sturdy bra she chose for today had back-strap clasps. Resourceful Peter reached into the side credenza and found a pair of shears. He cut through the bra's cleavage juncture and then both elastic shoulder straps. He yanked off the cut-up contraption, reading the label before tossing the broken thing aside. 36-D: he would have guessed as much. Her bared torus-slumped breasts continued to rise and fall, the umber areolae attracting his notice.

He leaned in and sucked hard on one nipple, actually chewing lightly on the broad brown disk. She whimpered at the dread of a harder bite but he left off and moved across to the treat its pair to a similar oral stimulation.

Her submission to his will was gaining his erection. He stood and unzipped, extracting his cock. It wasn't fully hard but getting there fast. He looked between her open thighs and saw her tight thong panties. Those would have to go; he wasn't a fan of slipped-aside panty sex. He wanted full unrestricted pussy access.

The shears found usefulness again as he snipped the thong hip straps and yanked off the clipped undies, tossing them aside to join the discarded bra. He fingered her nether lips, finding them wet from her apparent arousal at the rude foreplay. A fingernail flick of her clitoris gained a loud deepthroated groan.

If that was her response to his small caresses, she might well be a noisy moaner that could signal his secretary to investigate. Peter had not yet introduced Karen to his new gismo but intended to invoke her acquaintance soon. But before that, it was better to be safe than sorry; he retrieved the tossed panties and stuffed them in his captive's mouth. She shook her head in despair at the muzzling but settled down to accept the uncommon gag.

He was ready as he hoped Natasha was also. But it didn't really matter her readiness; he was in charge. He placed his tip and pushed, gaining an inch of warm wet sanctuary for his bulbous knob. He paused to brace for another push but was interrupted when he felt a tremor in her pussy. Her vaginal channel was alive with internal muscular twitches.

He pushed gently and slid further in. The tremors continued on his knob and he peered at her closed dark tinted eyelids. They fluttered in time with the pulsations in her cunt. Natasha, the formidable lawyer, was experiencing autonomic mini-gasms from the unpredicted sexual assault.

Peter suddenly realized that the professional woman's stark exterior was belied by her innate feminine craving to be sexually subjugated. And he was just the man to fulfill her current desperate need.

Drawing back, he stroked hard, driving to her bottom, bumping her cervix, eliciting her muffled cries of impending rapture. Again, and again, and again he stroked, occasionally pausing halfway in or out to enjoy the vaginal contractions on his cock. Each powerful cycle of his fat cock brought forth her blubbers of delight.

And finally, he emitted his own cries of delight and injected thick creamy ball juice deep inside her spasming cunt. He emptied his reserves and collapsed on her heaving chest, nibbling her earlobes, her neck, and her nipples. He drew downward over her torso to lap and kiss her creamed pussy before he finally drew himself to a stand. His sticky cock fell out of her cum sullied cunt. He drew a deep breath as he watched her lay in gratuitous ecstasy. Then he tapped her wrists.

"You can let go now."

Her eyes opened and she loosened her death grip on the heels. He assisted her lower limbs to unravel and droop again from the table edge. She lay still, her heavy breathing ebbing slowly. Spitting out her panty gag, she asked his permission in a respectful tone of voice.

"Can I get up?"

He gave her a hand as she tilted up, her tits drooping in their fullness, giving a little bobble as her ass slipped over the edge and she landed her heels on the floor. Looking down, she gripped her short skirt, bringing the hem back over her ass, smoothing it down with both hands. She surveyed her upper clothes, picking at the pieces on her body and on the floor, trying to figure out a serviceable ensemble from the remnants. Her voice implied frustration as she looked at his face.

"Now what am I to wear?"

Peter wasn't sure of the time. Had an hour passed? Could he extend the effects with the same target into a second hour? Well, that would be a test he could try now. He fingered the device.

"Lose the blouse completely and forget the bra. Button the jacket over your naked boobs and let them hang free underneath."

She looked at him with renewed stoicism and moved to follow his suggestion. Peter saw the look and found joy in his heart; he had confirmed that he could extend the device's effects with sequential treatments.

Natasha shucked off her jacket and removed the ruined blouse. The rebuttoned jacket presented deep cleavage and even peeked out belly flashes above her skirt waistline if she moved too quickly. Peter got her seated at the table and took his own seat across from her as he heard the returning gangsters.

Natasha was sitting very still, hands clasped on the tabletop in front of her, grudgingly presenting her lush inner boob slopes between the jacket panels to Peter's comical gawk as her clients plopped heavily into their seats. The lunchtime liquor had them feeling pretty good and they failed to notice Natasha's altered lurid look.

The meeting started again and, with Natasha still hopefully under his spell, Peter reiterated his best proposal. Charging forward, it was now or never for another test of the device's power.

"Don't you agree, Miss Natasha?"

Her voice was steady and authoritative as she spoke straight ahead at Peter, addressing the room but more so her clients.

"Yes. During the lunch break, I was able to consider the deep solid feelings of the participants in this exploration for satisfaction. I believe a longer-term relationship with Peter and his organization would satisfy most, possibly all, of our needs. And I am offering to remain here in America as your special representative in this relationship until all the parties are completely satisfied, as long as that may take."

The Russians looked about and leaned in for a huddle, whispering and nodding, as they debated their position. They ended the private conflab and sat upright. The boss spoke.

"Miss Natasha has been our savior in many other difficult dealings. If she thinks this is the best path forward, we will take her advice and accept the arrangement. We only hope she will not become too unhappy staying away from the motherland for so long."

The worldly experienced lawyer's voice became firmer with her subsequent declaration.

"I assure you, gentlemen, I will be well satisfied with this arrangement."

The negotiations concluded, the men shook hands all around and thanked Natasha for her upcoming sacrifice. She assured them again that she would be okay. The room emptied and all went their own ways.

After Peter made his farewells, he drove back to his lodgings. In the apartment house elevator, he was joined by his neighbor, a petite Oriental girl he had seen on his floor in passing but hadn't engaged in any conversation. She always wore baggy medical scrubs and he assumed she worked as a masseuse or nurse somewhere close by. Her long straight black hair was cut with bangs across her eyebrows that nearly hid her dark eyes. She rarely spoke, keeping a quiet continence.

The cab rose to their floor and he held the door for her as she stepped off, getting her perfunctory 'thank you'. He got an impish notion and he pressed the device, speaking to her from behind as she walked away.

"I live just down the hall. Why not stop by sometime and get acquainted."

She hesitated a step but didn't take up the conversation, continuing steadily towards her door.

'Oh, well, maybe I didn't do it right or the person needs to be facing me.'

He trod to his own apartment, punched in the keycode, and closed himself inside.

Minutes later there was a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole, being especially wary of unannounced visitors. He was a watched man and patience may not be the mob's best virtue. He saw the top half of the black-haired neighbor girl's head facing the door, eyes downward. He unclipped the chain latch and opened it slowly.

She stood there, barefooted, wearing a mindful expression. Otherwise, she wore only a spaghetti-strapped sheer slip. Her nubile nipples formed two translucent pokies and the hem hung a smidgen below her hardly hidden pussy. Peter presumed that 'sometime' had arrived; he opened the door wider and ushered her through.

She took his hand as she passed and pulled him towards the bedroom, knowing the way from the residences' similar layouts. Calmly disrobing him, she straddled his hips as he lay prone in the bed.

His guesses as to her occupation were soon substantiated, somewhat. She certainly knew her way around a human body's anatomy, and especially a man's genitals. Her hands were like magic as she stroked him to fullness, finding all the right nerves to kindle.

Then she slid forward and tented her pretty little pussy over his erect rod and slicked it up with her own plentiful vaginal dew. The hip slides were smooth and dexterous. A lift of her ass and a hand on his erection got alignment and then a slow penetration. She was able to stretch to his girth but could accommodate only about three-quarters of his length, halting when his tip bumped her cervix.

As she made the slow strokes, Peter picked at her nipples, flicking and pinching the pointy nubs. Then he took real command, rolling her under and mounting her from atop. He bore his own weight on knees and elbows. She swiveled her hips in the free space between their groins, revolving and thrusting her cunt on the masculine pinion. Peter held his pose and quietly concentrated on the stimulations. Whimpers escaped her wordless lips. Her lithe arms reached for his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Even then, her hips continued the penile manipulations.

And the copulating pair achieved their ultimate mutual pleasure. Peter gave her the last of his manly spunk and she cooed at the pride of being its latest receptacle.

Then she gently pushed his chest and he levered up and rolled aside. Released from his pegging of her feminine orifice, she slipped out of bed, clutched at her discarded slip, and padded barefoot and naked from the room. Peter watched her nice ass wiggle and prance as she stepped nimbly away. He heard the outer door open and close as she made her way back toward her own apartment.

All in all, his adorable neighbor had proved to be a most enjoyable little fuck. And he looked forward to many more.

Peter lay dog-tired in bed, his cock soft but satisfied. Anya was going to be very pleased when he reported on the effectiveness of her ingenious device and they moved it into profitable production.

----------

"Yes, yes... it really works."

Peter was more enthusiastic than he intended to be but found it hard to contain his excitement in the presence of his ingenious business-time and bedtime partner.

Anya was inspecting the returned device, checking if the internal energy source was holding up and reading out the number of times and GPS locations where it was used. He had not been aware that it tracked his movements and usage. He would have asked ahead of time if he had suspected. But Anya was very detail oriented and he should have guessed at her thoroughness.

He leaned over her shoulder, watching the readout on her computer screen. She smelled great: a flowery perfume in her blonde hair bunted up on her head during her laboratory shift.

"Do you think it will sell?"

"Of course, my darling; wouldn't you buy it if you didn't already own it?"

Peter wrapped his arms around her buxom body, cupped her breasts through the lab coat, and kissed her neck. She twisted back to get a real lip-locked kiss as his hands caressed her chest puppies.

"I would buy it and use it on you first."

She slowly swiveled around in her chair and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding the deep kiss. She left off and moved her lips to his ear.

"You don't need the device, my darling. I am yours whenever, wherever, however, you want me. Do you want me now?"

Peter didn't respond in words but rather drew her up and started pulling off her clothes. As she facilitated his task, she spoke mostly to herself.

"I think the answer is 'yes'."

She knew what he wanted.

Come with me."

She was now half naked: topless and pants belt undone. She took his hand and led him to the adjacent room. She had a bed, a bathroom, and a kitchenette, a very efficient little living space while she hid from the mob. They undressed each other completely and fell together on the sheeted mattress. It was a long, romantic, and energetic fuck, the kind that had brought them together in their motherland not so long ago and drove them to flee to America. It was a continued consummation of their special love, combining body, spirit, and fortune.