The Internship: Week 02

Thank you to everyone for your feedback and encouragement!! The categories that these stories go in will likely change, as her internship progresses (and also because I don't really know what I am doing??) so I am sorry for any confusion! The themes will probably change a little each week as Rachel becomes a little more adventurous ;)

That being said, this week is very different than her first week, I really hope you like it! :)

*****

When I came into the office the next morning, I was disappointed to find out that Vivienne was gone for the rest of the week. While some of the displeasure was due to the missed opportunities for filming (I had grossed almost two thousand from the night before), I found myself increasingly upset by the fact Vivienne hadn't told me. She had simply kissed me goodbye and left without mentioning her trip.

I reminded myself constantly that she was under no obligation to inform me of her travel plans, but my emotional response was a little concerning. Was I developing feelings for my boss?

I had to do my best to ignore the feelings during work hours. Monday I would begin my first week at my second magazine internship, Gent, giving me some much-needed space from the office that served to remind me of the skillfulness of Vivienne and her ability to bring to a climax. Instead, I focused on daily tasks at hand, ignoring the clenching feeling between my legs I felt whenever Vivienne's name was mentioned.

I had also refused to log on and broadcast myself. It felt different now. While I was financially set for the rest of the month, thanks to the past two filming nights with Vivienne and my modest internship paycheck, something about filming with Vivienne made any other attempt to make money that way seem fake and forced. She had made being a cam girl genuinely pleasurable. I couldn't go back online without her.

Plus, I was sure my viewers wouldn't be okay with me just dancing around anymore. I had upped the game. I spent my weekend off-line, worried about where my mind would take me and how much stalking I would do of my boss.

By Monday, the time apart had done me some good. I was excited about being at Gent for my second week of the internship and I picked up the new tasks quickly. The office definitely had a different vibe. While Flair was hip and chic, Gent took a more masculine approach to decorating. The offices were darker, the desks and chairs metallic in theme. I enjoyed seeing the differences between the magazines, but occasionally I would be hit with what felt like homesickness whenever I thought of Flair, and Vivienne.

A difference between the internships I hadn't expected, though, was that each intern was assigned to an executive assistant to assist them in their duties. I was assigned to a bookish, mousy girl named Chrissy. She was efficient but lacked personality. She was easy to get along with, though. Her boss, impressively, was John McAlister.

John was the CEO of the magazine. His management approach was different than Vivienne's. He seemed kinder, but there was something a little off about him that I couldn't quite place. While his gaze occasionally lingered to long on my breasts or legs, he never did anything that made me feel concerned. He was just the average slightly lecherous man, as far as I could tell.

By Wednesday, I felt relatively proficient in most of my intern duties. This came in handy, as Chrissy was diagnosed with pneumonia and was ordered on bed rest, resulting in me getting a mock-promotion to fulfill all of her duties as well as my own.

I took the opportunity as a chance to really prove myself, so show how I was a quick learner and a capable intern. All day on Thursday I ran errands, answered the phones, and brought coffee whenever asked.

At the end of the day on Thursday, John called in from his office and asked me to meet him inside. I did as I was told, entering his massive corner office. He ignored me at first, reading something on his computer..

What is with bosses and ignoring their insubordinates? It must be some kind of power play.

If so, it works.

As I waited, I looked out the windows at the other building surrounding us. I wondered what those people were doing, and if they ever looked in to see what was happening in here.

"Tomorrow I have meetings all day, so I won't be around much." He finally spoke. I snapped to attention. "Please make sure everything gets mailed on time." He said, still not looking at me. I stared at his profile. He was attractive, his graying hair and five-o-clock shadow made him mature, wise.

I fidgeted.

"I expect you to be here should I need anything from the office." He said sternly.

"Yes, of course sir." I said. He glanced over to me for a moment, assessing me, before he looked back at his computer.

"You did well today. Your name?"

"Rachel."

"Good night Rachel."

"Good night Mr. McAlister."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Friday was chaotic. John was in and out all day, like he had said. I spent most of my time taking messages and trying to keep up with his changing schedule. Much to my dismay, urgent meetings kept getting scheduled later and later.

At least the next day was Saturday, so I could recover. That thought kept me going. I ordered in dinner for John and delivered it to him, then left him alone, sitting at my desk. The phone had quieted now that it was past five. Most normal people were enjoying their weekends already.

I sighed, leaning my elbow on my desk, and knocking over my drink.

"Shit!" I whispered, the iced coffee creeping across the desk. I quickly moved the electronics and grabbed towels, but realized my cardigan was a casualty of the accident. I took it off and went to the sink, scrambling to find something for the stain.

The phone rang. I hurried back over and picked it up, breathless.

"I am heading out." John said, immediately hanging up.

Shit.

I stood, adjusting my dress and cursing myself for not wearing something sleeved. I was certain my nipples were poking through my thin, lace bra thanks to the high-powered air conditioning. I walked over to the coat closet and reached for his jacket.

"That's a nice tattoo."

I jumped at John's voice.

"Oh, uh," I stuttered. Hardly anyone ever saw it, but the way John looked at me had suddenly changed. He was hungry, even though he just ate dinner. "Thanks." I said, my eyes casting downward.

He was silent for a moment.

"Since Chrissy is home sick, I need you to stay late tonight. Go get yourself dinner now and be back by 7." He ordered, walking out of the office before I could respond.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

I did as I was told, but my dinner consisted of vending machine snacks. I worked on removing the stain from my cardigan, and then just sat and waited for him, wondering what on Earth he could still be doing at work at 7 PM on a Friday.

The door swung open and he entered, striding into his office without any acknowledgement to my greeting. I sat, feeling slightly stung by the snub, and then my phone rang.

What in the hell?

"Come in my office." He hung up. I stood, a little nervous, and walked through the frosted glass doors. This time, when I entered, he watched me.

He was a predator, and I was his prey.

I had the instinct to flee, but I couldn't. His stony gaze froze me where I stood.

"I know you." He said simply.

"W-what?" I was baffled. My mind raced, trying to remember where in the world I had met him before.

"Don't play dumb. That tattoo, under your arm." He replied. "It's a unique spot. Not many people get tattoos there. At first I thought it was a coincidence. But your voice..." He sounded wistful.

My heart sank.

He'd seen me on camera.

"You've read the company manual. You know about the morality clause." He continued.

So, he can watch me be a cam girl, but I can't be a cam girl. That seemed so unfair! But I couldn't argue; I had signed a contract. And the lawyers he could afford were in a different league than anyone I could hire.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I was going to be fired. And if I was fired from this internship, I would never be able to return to Flair.

Vivienne.

Would she even care that I was gone? Or would she find someone else to fuck in the office? And what ever made me think that I was special? Perhaps she had countless interns that she randomly had sex with. I was naïve to think I was the only one.

"But since I can appreciate the... fine art of your second job," He said, his eyes on fire, "I think we can come to an arrangement."

"Because although you dance nude, you do not do overtly sexual acts on camera." He explained. "But if you do sexual acts with me, I think we can forget about your alternate income source."

My breath caught in my throat. He hadn't seen the recent broadcastings then. He didn't know about me and Vivienne.

But he was blackmailing me. Just like Vivienne had. I cursed myself again for my job choice. I considered walking away, being fired and shamed and never making it in my dream field.

Or I would stay. I would do what they asked of me and maybe I could make it. Maybe I could rise above.

My brain worked to rationalize it all.

My time with Vivienne hadn't been bad. Actually, it had been amazing. While I worried about Vivienne finding out that John and I had fooled around, there was no camera here. The chances of her knowing would be minimal.

I can do this. For her.

"Get on your knees." His voice was deep, threatening. I did as he said. So maybe this would be about him, and not about me. That made it even better. I could detach myself from it. My pleasure belonged to Vivienne.

He approached me, the hard outline of his sizeable erection visible beneath the fabric of his suit.

"Take it out."

My hands fumbled as I undid his belt and zipper. His pants fell to the floor, the buckle clinking softly. My fingers shook as I grabbed ahold of his compression boxers and tugged down.

His manhood sprung free, thick and veined.

I hadn't been this close to a cock before. I had seen them, sure. I watched enough porn to understand angles and movements to keep my customers interested in what I did, without actually masturbating. I played the innocence card well, mostly because I was innocent.

Was.

My mouth filled with saliva. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I leaned forward, my lips kissing the head of his cock. He gave a soft moan of approval and I ventured further, wetting my lips and licking the tip of his dick, swirling my tongue around the smooth skin and closing my mouth over it. I bobbed my head carefully, as I had seen other, more adventurous, cam girls do. He groaned loudly, his hand resting on the back of my hair, his fingers tensing against my scalp.

I got up the courage to take him deeper in my throat. My gag reflex kicked in and my body convulsed, pulling away. A thin string of sticky saliva connected my mouth with his thick member. When I looked back up at him, his face was contorted in a state of desire I had never seen before. He guided me back to his cock and I obediently opened my mouth again.

This time he wasn't gentle.

He pulled my head toward him and away, fucking my face relentlessly. I gagged again, spitting and sputtering I pulled free, desperate to breathe. I fell on the carpet, gasping for air and turning away from him.

"Get up." He commanded. I felt dirty, and humiliated. But as I rose to my knees again, the uncomfortable slickness between my thighs confused me.

I was turned on by this treatment? By this abuse?

"Open." He demanded.

"Please, not so rough." I whimpered. He forcefully grabbed my neck, his eyes wild. My pussy throbbed with arousal.

"You don't make bargains, slut. You do as your told, if you want to keep your job."

I obediently opened my mouth again. Roughly he grabbed my jaw with one hand and the back of my head with the other. I stretched my mouth wide, closing my eyes, tears streaming down my face from the gagging.

He thrust himself inside my mouth, over and over. The room was silent except for the sloppy sounds of his cock hitting the back of my throat, my mouth producing groans and gags, and chorus of faint honking and shouting from the streets of New York below us.

I ventured a quick look up at John, illuminated by the lights of buildings next to us. I wondered if people could see us, if they were watching this act and pleasuring themselves.

My fingers wandered down to my pussy, my pointer and middle finger dipping down and inside, coating themselves in my excessive arousal, before moving back to my clit. Pressing down around my sensitive nub I began pleasuring myself, moaning as his thick cock rammed into my throat over, and over.

"I knew you'd like this." John growled, his pace becoming more relentless. "I've always known. Watching you move your body, hearing you talk. You've always been a dirty slut."

His vile, cruel words pushed me closer and closer to the edge. It took all of my strength to keep my mouth open as my hips convulsed with my orgasm. I emitted a garbled scream around him as I came. With a few more thrusts I felt his hot cum hit the back of my throat. I swallowed, but he pulled out, still coming, and the white liquid landed on my face. I closed my eyes, letting his cum rain upon me, my body vibrating after my intense, and exhausting climax.

"You're a good little slut." John breathed. "You're going to do well here."