The Mistress Pt. 05

Her eyes flew open.

"No! No, Frank!" she begged. "Do not fire Lynda! She's wonderful. She helps us... she's my friend."

"I'm your friend, baby doll. But OK. OK. If you don't want me to fire Lynda, I won't. Just for you. But if she fucks with you, let me know? If she gets mad about why you can't eat Chinese food today let me know, because I know you need this internship to graduate, right? Otherwise your parents will find out that you didn't graduate on time, and that you didn't get a job, and all that other shit. I know how important this is to you. Right?"

She just looked at him, rubbing her cheek where he had slapped her.

"Right?"

"Where do I pick your suit up from?"

***

"OK, baby," he said. "OK. That's enough. I don't know what's going on. I don't think it's going to happen."

Morgan slid his half erect penis from her mouth. She looked up at Frank.

"You OK?"

He tucked his cock away into his new dress pants, zipping them up.

"Yeah, baby doll, I'm OK," he sighed. "I guess I just had a harder day than I thought. I threw up on the elevator today, and didn't get any lunch, you know? Maybe I just need to go home and sleep the flu off tonight."

She rose from where she knelt in between his legs, wiping her mouth with the side of her arm.

"Uh, so, should I stick around, or..."

He smiled, standing up, pulling the young woman towards him for a rough kiss.

"No, baby doll. It's Friday. You should go out tonight and have fun with your friends."

Frank pulled his wallet out and counted out some twenties. He handed them to Morgan, who accepted them numbly, reaching out with a hand that felt somehow disconnected from the rest of her body.

"Go on," he pointed towards the door of his office. "You go have fun. You can tell me about it tomorrow when I come by with that wine bottle opener, OK? You can suck my dick and make me feel all better while we drink our wine."

How I'm supposed to drink wine and suck dick at the same time I'd like to know, she thought.

But she didn't say that.

"So," she said, her hand on the doorknob.

He wasn't looking at her. He stood there with his eyes on his new shoes, his hands in tight balled fists.

"I got a bitch I got to settle up with," he muttered to himself.

She closed the door behind herself.

***

He found her in her office, sitting on the top of her desk, drinking what looked like wine from a wine glass, otherwise completely alone. Most of the overhead fluorescent lights were turned off at this point after office hours.

Jack's idea, Frank remembered. The CEO was a sap and a weakling, in Frank's opinion. Talked all the time about work-life balance, that employees were supposed to put in their forty hours a week and that was it. No staying after to get caught up. No overtime. No answering emails on the weekends.

So, Jack made most of the lights get turned off right at five, so everyone knew work was over.

"You're drinking wine at work?" Frank barked at the woman.

Lynda raised her glass to her lips and took a deep swallow.

"Shut up, Frank," was all she said.

He stood there in her gaze, his hands still balled into fists, now shaking.

"You don't know who you are fucking with, woman," he hissed quietly. "You'll be gone by Monday morning, you fucking bitch. I'm head of fucking security around here. I'm positioning this company to face the threats of the future. What the fuck are you? An accountant? Big fucking deal. Accountants are a dime a dozen. We'll make the next dumb secretary do your job."

She took another sip of her wine.

"Getting it out of your system?" she asked him, as if bored.

"And that's not even to mention your little 'performance' in the stairway the other day."

"Oh?" she asked, shifting over to face him directly, swinging her legs around wide on her desk.

Very wide, he thought. You can almost see right up her-

"Are you looking up my skirt, Franklin?"

He shook his head.

"Anyway, I hope you liked working here. This shit doesn't fly! You should probably pack your shit up now, less to carry when security escorts you- "

"It's fine if you look up my skirt, Franklin," she said, spreading her legs even wider, pulling her knees up slightly to afford him a more direct view.

He looked.

"I mean, it's only OK because I'm letting you," she went on. "You'd be a disgusting little pig if I wasn't letting you, right, Franklin?"

"I go by Frank," he mumbled.

"Whatever," she said, sliding her skirt up towards her hips.

She wasn't wearing any underwear, he could see. He could make out some dark curls back there, under the shadow of her skirt.

"It's just my pussy, Franklin," she cooed. "Most people have one. Mine is a very good one, though. Young, tight. I have a very young and tight and strong pussy, Franklin. Would you like to see it?"

He nodded. His mouth was dry.

She slid her skirt up even higher.

And he could see her. He could see her red lips peeking out from the tight black curls, he could see the glisten from the wetness all the way across the room.

"Men have always gone mad for pussies like this one, Frank. Always. They can't help it; they lose their minds. Do crazy things. It's the way of the world."

She slid a couple of fingers over herself, rubbing over her clitoris, spreading herself open just slightly, showing him more of her wetness.

"Yeah," he said, for no real reason.

Fuck, he thought. He thought he could smell her all the way across the room, sweet and heavy. Filling his nostrils.

"Us women never understand it, you know," she said, taking another drink of her wine. "To us, it's just another pussy in a world filled with pussies. But to men, it's... well, fucking everything, it seems."

He looked at her face, finally. Not comprehending what he was seeing.

She slid her fingers over herself some more.

"Come lick my pussy, Franklin," she cooed. "Right now. I want you to come lick me."

And he found himself getting down on his knees, in between her widespread legs, looking at her pussy, looking at how it shined, glistened. Smelling her.

"Right now, Franklin," she whispered, applying gentle pressure to the back of his head.

He leaned in, opening his mouth, licking up and down the length of her pussy. She tasted sweet, and delicious, like an ocean, getting wetter as he licked. He shoved his tongue inside her, tasting her deeper, and deeper.

She moaned, and drank more of her wine, looking down at him, small in between her legs. She began to wind her fingers into his hair.

"Fuck, you're awful," she stated. "Fucking terrible. I wonder if you've ever licked a pussy in your whole life before this."

He started to speed up with his tongue, slurping and pushing with it.

"Pathetic," she said. "Do you even know where my clitoris fucking is? How can a man your age be so fucking bad at such a simple thing as licking a beautiful woman's pussy, Franklin?"

He tried to speak, tried to say that he loved pussy, loved eating it, tried to let her know that he loved her pussy and wanted to please it.

But she put her wine glass down on her desk with an audible clink. She stood up, pushing his head back, forcing him backwards in an uncomfortable way.

"Lucky for me, I don't need you to be any fucking good at this," she hissed.

She slid her pussy up his face, roughly, dragging her swollen clit up him, then forcing herself back down the same way. She gripped his head tightly, holding him there, grinding herself up and down his face.

He continued to pathetically lick at whatever was there, her pussy, her asshole, still imagining that he was pleasing her with his tongue in some way.

She loved hearing him down there, slurping away uselessly while she fucked his face with her drenched pussy.

"God, you're pathetic," she said. "What a sad excuse for a man you are. You've probably never made a woman cum in your whole life, but you are going to make me cum, Franklin. You are going to make me cum, and the way you are going to make me cum is by letting me use you like the piece of shit you are."

She grabbed his head tighter with her hands, controlling him completely now, grinding her clit up and down his face as if she hated him, hated every bit of him.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," she whispered.

And she did, grabbing him tighter still, her hips losing their strong rhythm as she orgasmed, rubbing his face even harder with her clit and her pussy.

"You fucking worm," she gasped. "I hate you so much. You piece of shit. You fucking loser. I'll make you beg. I'll make you crawl."

Frank's cock seemed to burst open in his new underwear, squirting jets of cum as she fucked his face. He couldn't think of a single coherent thought, only waves of pleasure so powerful they almost hurt, groveling in between Lynda's legs and helplessly cumming.

Finally, she pushed his head away. He rocked back on his ankles, stunned, his expression slack on his drenched face.

She pulled her skirt down, smoothed it out, and sat back on her desk. She reached for her glass of wine.

He looked up at her.

"What," he said.

She drank her wine, looking down at him, her face filled with hate and scorn.

"What was that?"

"Fuck you."

He stood up. He straightened out his sport coat, looked down at his new pants. He could see the cum soaking through.

He was glad the lights were turned down low.

"What do you want from me?" he croaked.

She drank more wine.

"What I want from you, Franklin," she said, looking at her phone. "Is the next time you are sexually intimate with someone? I expect you to spend a great deal of time licking her pussy."

She put the phone down and looked him in the eyes coldly.

"Lick her pussy very good. Do a good fucking job. Make her fucking cum with your mouth, you stupid asshole."

She pointed to the door.

"Now, go."

He went.