The Pleasure Toy Ch. 08

Lewis looked at the message on his phone and sniggered with egotistical satisfaction at the thought of Mrs P (as he'd called her in his contact listing) wanting him so badly she couldn't wait until 5:30 that evening. He read and re-read "Forget 5:30. Be at the office rear door 12:35," until the bulge in his trousers got so uncomfortable that he decided to try to calm down.

Emma Payton had spent all of the previous evening thinking about what Lewis had told her, and how he hadn't sounded at all upset by the way two of her friends had turned him into some sort of compliant plaything. She hadn't been able to work out if he'd actually liked being used, took it as a compliment that two middle-aged women would find him so desirable, or was now conditioned to it, but it hadn't taken her long to realise that she could probably do absolutely anything she wanted with him.

She'd taken an hour or two thinking about the pictures he'd confessed to posing for and decided that both her friends had different reasons. Claire had made Lewis wear three lots of underwear, so she'd probably enjoyed humiliating him, and the blackmail possibly an afterthought. Rachel had only made him pose briefly, so it probably hadn't turned her on, but that she'd felt the need to do it at all meant Lewis was wrong about Claire sharing her pictures. Emma laughed out loud at the realisation Lewis must have talked himself into being used by a second woman, just as he had with her, and then wondered if he was really that stupid or actually wanted older women to use him. It took her about a minute to decide that it didn't matter what he wanted. She wanted his pretty face between her legs, just like it had been three months earlier, only this time it was going to be down there for much, much longer.

He left a note for his mother who'd gone out to help a friend for the day not to expect him home, left her to assume that he would be working in the cafe which casually employed him during busy periods as a short order cook, ran all the way to Emma Payton's single storey office building, and sat on a wall to the rear wondering why Mrs P had given him such a precise time until exactly 12:34.

Lewis Carter then walked across the car park, knocked gently on the red door he'd seen the evening before, and stared open-mouthed at the stunning 43-year-old womwn who answered. He'd never seen Emman Payton in her full make-up, with her hair tied back and wearing such an obviously expensive all-black outfit of pencil skirt, silk blouse and high-heeled calf-length leather boots with bright gold zips up the sides.

"Come in," she grinned, "We're all alone and the front blinds are down so nobody can see in."

He instinctively reached towards her, but she patted his hands away, "No, I wanted you to come round because of a fantasy I've had for years, and thought you might help me to make it real." Lewis shrugged, half expecting a suggestion that he put on some of her underwear so she could take embarassing pictures of him in the office to use as unnecessary blackmail in the future, but she just smirked, "I've always wanted a man to go down on me at work. Under my desk if you know what I mean? Would you? I'll make it up to you later."

Lewis Carter didn't mind in the slightest. He'd spent 18 hours thinking about putting his head between her lithe, toned thighs, showing her how much better he'd gotten since the last time, and dreaming about what she'd do in return. He immediately knelt down at her feet, and shuffled backwards into the small space under her desk. "Are you comfortable?" she asked rhetorically, as Lewis shook his head and grinned in reply, "Not really, but I don't mind."

"Just one thing," she said emotionlessly, "If anybody comes, you'll need to stay there and be very quiet until we're alone again."

He mouthed a silent "ok" and stared transfixed up the darkness between her knees as she reached up the inside of her skirt, pulled a pair of shiny white panties down and off, and dropped them into one of the desk's bottom drawers. Then she sat on a large leather swivel seat with castors, shuffled it forwards, lifted his head slightly until her clitoris was almost touching his nose, let go, and smoothed her skirt back down over his head so that he couldn't see anything.

She'd spent most of the previous evening imagining his pretty face between her thighs and knowing that it was now going be there for the rest of the day didn't want his mouth doing any more than the bare minimum of exploration. There was plenty of time to get excited later, but for now, just sitting there while his twenty-three-year-old tongue tried to taste her was more than enough.

Lewis Carter could see absolutely nothing, and couldn't move any part of his body below the shoulders, but within seconds of streching out his neck and sticking out his tongue in a painful effort to please her, he heard the front office door open, footsteps on the wooden floor, and then the sound of his mother's voice: "I've brought you back a tuna salad on rye, just like you asked for."

Emma Payton squeezed her thighs around his ears, and then released the pressure so that he could hear her laughed reply: "Thanks Maggie, you're every bit as efficient as my usual assistant. Can you sort the mail after lunch while I carry on with my e-mails?"

Lewis's heart almost stopped as he realised that the friend his mother was helping for the day was the woman whose legs his head was squashed between, and that he'd been invited round precisely five minutes after her lunch break had started. He was hot, unable to see, unable to move and barely able to breathe as Emma shuffled very slightly forwards so that he could feel her excitement oozing onto his face. It had taken more self-control than she'd have ever thought possible not to climax when Maggie Carter had passed over the sandwich oblivious to her son's head being under the desk, and Emma wanted to Lewis to know.

He instinctively licked just a little harder and caused a slight wet tremor, but she wriggled just a little further away so that he couldn't do any more than touch with her with just the tip of his tongue: she wanted his head between her legs for the next five hours, and that meant staying very calm.

Emma Payton used her work as a distraction, but it wasn't easy. She could feel him straining to lick, suck, kiss, chew and nibble with as much effort as his limited movement would allow, briefly wondered why he didn't give up, and then decided that she'd been right about him: he was simply desperate to please her.

Lewis didn't hear Emma's early goodbye conversation with his mother as his ears were tightly squashed between a pair of forty-three year old thighs when it took place, and he didn't know that there was nobody else in the office when his face got pressed into a Emma's lush crevice with such force that he felt like he was getting waterboarded while she climaxed so violently that Lewis's head was battered against the underside of the desk.

Neither of them moved for what to Lewis felt like an age as Emma slowly controlled her breathing, rolled her seat back and grinned down at the sodden, sweaty exhausted mess she'd made of her 23-year-old plaything, "Your mother left ages ago, but I was enjoying myself."

He crawled very slowly out from under the desk as Emma handed took the top from a water bottle, held it to his lips, and watched him drink the full contents before she spoke. "This has been the best day at work I've ever had," she sniggered, "I'm going to have to close early."

Lewis Carter was unable to move. He had no feeling in his arms or legs, and his entire body hurt from being queezed in to a confined space for hours, so he just lay curled painfully on the floor as Emma staggered to the front door, locked it, put some sort of sign in the window, and closed the blinds.

Emma then sat back on the seat, slid it towards him and positioned herself so that he was looking up her skirt at a gash so red and so wet that it looked like sliced watermelon with the seeds removed. "Want to fuck?" she grinned knowing that he couldn't, "Or aren't you up for it?" Lewis couldn't speak, and didn't even want to try as Emma Payton stood over him: "Well you can't say I didn't offer. Maybe next time?"

And then she stood up, lifted her skirt so that she could wipe herself with the contents of a box she took from her desk, pulled her shiny white panties from the lower draw, put them back on, and reapplied her make-up.

Emma Payton then leaned over him and said with a snigger, "I lied about always having wanted a man do that under my desk, what I really wanted was to have that pretty face of yours between my legs for as long as it's spent between Claire's and Rachel's. Can't have those two having one over on me, and there might still be a bit of catching up to do. What do you think?"

He still couldn't speak, so just shrugged slightly as any more movement would have hurt, as Emma Payton's snigger turned to laughter, and then hysterics as she thought about his sensory deprivation of everything but her excitement for a whole afternoon.

It took Emma a few minutes to regain her composure as she looked down with satisfaction at what she'd done to him. And then she opened the back door, guided him outside, locked it and drove home leaving Lewis in the car park a dishevelled, exhausted mess, unable to stand, but feeling a strange sense of pride at how well he'd coped with such difficult circumstances.