The Secretary Pt. 02

After falling under the charms of her enchanting boss, Mr Marston, Summer Chase's life has rapidly changed - for the better.

Her wardrobe was the first difference. Gone were the frumpy trousersuits. Instead, she wore almost-sheer blouses with black bras, or sometimes no bra at all. The feel of silk fabric against her bare flesh and nipples left her damp all day.

Her skirts were new, trimmed with lace and short. Very short. So short she'd be pulled in if she weren't fucking the boss. The boss who had specifically requested it.

When she'd confided in a friend about her situation, she'd been horrified. Distressed that a man held so much power over Summer. But that made it even better. Knowing that at any moment Marston could drop her, that he could have any woman he want, at any time...it pushed her to perform, to improve, to please.

Besides, her friend didn't understand. Maybe because she didn't have the full picture. She didn't know about Marston's most imperative request: that at all times, unless specified otherwise, Summer must wear a buttplug.

It was orgasmic. Being filled, always knowing, feeling his presence. And the size grew. Gradually, but it was always just big enough to keep her on her toes. Keep her distracted, and her pussy wet.

That was the best part. At all times, Summer was ready. If Marston wanted to touch what belonged to him, it was all geared up and ready to go.

Tonight, though, was a special night. Work clothes were off-limits, today's outfit neatly folded. Instead, when Summer emerged, steaming, from the shower, she turned to the three packages laid over the bed.

Summer picked up the one in the middle. It felt light, lighter than water as if even the bag it came in was weightless. Tenderly, she brushed her hand down the surface, wishing to see inside. Then she put it down, stepping back.

Mr Marston had told her to choose only one. The rest would remain a surprise for the future. Summer trusted his judgement more than her own, so it wasn't a question of there being a 'wrong' dress. It was just...

No. She was thinking too much. Marston did her thinking for her. He'd provided dresses, and she just had to fucking pick one, wear it, and (if he decided to reward her) get her brains fucked out.

So she went for the one in the middle. Opening the bag eagerly, she gasped. It was beautiful.

The dress was entirely black, with dotted, puffy lace sleeves. The waist cinched dramatically, then spread out into a wide pleated skirt.

Summer took one look at it and immediately began to get dressed. Ignoring how horny she already was, seeing the dress, imaging how hot she'd look, and all the greedy glances she'd get in the restaurant...

It was too much to think about. Hiking up her skirt, she began to rub around her lips, softly. She frowned, noticing a note and a small package.

It read:

I'm looking forward to seeing what dress you chose. You will find another gift. It's bigger than anything you've had before, but I expect you to wear it tonight. Also, I want you ready for me tonight. I know you understand.

She absolutely did. As she fingered more of her pussy, brushing her clit lightly, she used her other hand to open the box. In it sat a gold jewelled buttplug roughly the size of her fist.

Summer smiled. She'd always loved a challenge, and nothing made her wetter than knowing she was pleasing Marston.

From her dresser, she grabbed a tube of lube and slathered it generously across her asshole and the plug.

With how turned on she was, it didn't take much effort at all to slide the plug up inside her. And when it filled her out, she almost came then and there. It was enormous, and the feeling of it pressing against the walls of her asshole dominated her thoughts.

It was difficult to think. But she didn't need to think. Just obey, like a good little slut.

So, when a breath on her clit would make her cum, she slipped a remote vibrator inside of herself and struggled out the door with a brain like mush.

Outside her hotel, a white estate car idled. The tinted window rolled down, and Marston's chiselled face met her own.

'Hello, Summer.'

'Hello, sir.'

She closed the door behind her, crossing her legs as she clicked the seatbelt. Marston's imperative hand came to rest on her thigh and she inhaled sharply.

'You look beautiful tonight,' he said, smiling. 'Open your legs.'

Without a word, Summer obeyed. Her mouth was slightly parted, her breathing ragged from arousal.

'Would you like me to blow you, sir?'

'No, not yet. I have other plans for this evening.'

Summer frowned, almost whimpering. She just wanted to serve, to be a good slut. Why wouldn't he let her?

Thoughts of servitude filled her head the entire way to the restaurant. At the door, Marston held it open for her, walking her into the cavernous entry hall like a trophy wife.

'Oh my God, sir.'

'Be quiet,' he said sternly, but not unkindly.

A pretty blonde server with sharp eyeliner approached, wearing her best customer service smile.

'Hello, sir, madam. Do you have a reservation for tonight?'

Summer had to stop herself from punching the girl out of jealousy. He was HER sir. The girl was too pretty for her own good, with her tight blouse and shiny heels. God, Summer would fuck her if she had the chance. She'd fuck everyone in the restaurant, she was so horny.

But Marston had her heart, and she obeyed him, in the end.

'Yes, I do,' he said. 'Table for Marston.'

'Of course. If you'll just follow me.'

They did so, Summer trying her best not to stare at the server's butt. They reached a table with a fancy white cloth and sat down.

'Would you like some drinks?'

'Yes, we'll have the house special wine, please. The bottle.'

Summer's eyes widened. That wine cost as much as a small car.

'An excellent choice, sir. Please, check the menu whilst you wait, and we'll be back soon.'

Marston gave her a polite smile, then turned his penetrating gaze to Summer, who almost melted.

'How are the gifts I gave you?'

'Excellent, sir.'

'Good, I'm glad you enjoy them. I'm sure I don't need to explain what they do, but I will outline what will happen tonight.'

Summer sat straighter, rubbing her pussy with the inside of her crossed thighs. It wasn't enough to really do anything, but it still felt good.

'You will keep yourself pleased, to some extent, all night. I don't care how you do it, just that it is done.'

That wouldn't be hard. Summer edged herself brainless basically every minute of every day.

'When we've finished our meal, I'll elaborate further. Speaking of the meal...' He lifted up the menu and began to peruse it.

In the meantime, the servers returned with the wine and two crystal glasses. They poured the fine white, which Marston and Summer clinked together, drinking.

It was grapey, obviously, but surprisingly zesty and light. It was also strong, and Summer strongly suspected she'd be tipsy after a few mouthfuls.

Marston, sipping the wine, set down the menu.

'I'll have the lamb,' he said.

'Of course, sir. And the lady?' The server looked at Summer, but Marston spoke.

'She'll have the special.'

'Yes of course. We'll have them to you as soon as possible.'

'So, Summer. You seem to be fitting into your new role quite well, although I wonder how you are enjoying it?'

That left her stumped. She could hardly say what she truly felt. Yes sir, I love it sir, please fuck me sir, please, I beg, give me your cock sir I love it sir please please please me. (Or could she?)

She settled instead on something decidedly classier.

'I'm very happy in my new role,' she said. 'I find it challenging, obviously, but also intensely rewarding because of that. I look forward to working closely with you in the future.'

'As do I,' he said, squeezing her delicate hand. 'As do I.'

The meals came soon after, and Summer and Marston spent the entire time eating fucking one another with their eyes. They fed each other, kissed each other, touched one another with their feet under the table.

When they'd finished all three courses, Summer was quite drunk, quite full, and very horny.

'That was exquisite,' Marston said, wiping his mouth. Then, he set his phone on the table like a bargaining chip. 'Now, for some fun.'

Summer sat forward, her hazy mind desperate to see what she'd be doing next.

'I will wait here for the bill. In the meantime, you will go to the bathroom. There, you will touch yourself. But you must not cum. Do you understand?'

'Yes sir.'

'Good girl. One more thing: I want you to record yourself, both as proof and for my pleasure. Remember: you must not cum. Good girls don't cum. If you do, I'll know, and you will regret it. Am I understood?'

'Yes sir.' Summer nodded drunkenly. Some deep part of her wanted to disobey, to fuck herself so hard she came explosively. Just to see what Marston would do to her.

But then her reason came back, and as she walked, she convinced herself to obey. To be good. To serve.

Inside the stall, she quickly locked the door and hiked up her skirt. She hadn't worn panties, like the good slut she was, so she had immediate access to her pussy.

Midway through fingering herself silly, she remembered Marston's order. She had to film herself!

Scrambling to set up her phone, she forced her hands away from between her legs, licking her fingers, desperate to taste herself.

Freshly lubed (not that she needed it), she got back to work on her pussy, which promptly exploded.

Somehow, she'd forgotten about the remote vibe, and that Marston had control. Waves of pleasure began to ride up from between her legs, and Summer had to brace herself against the stall just to stay standing.

It was like she was under attack, a concentrated assault of pleasure directly on her body and brain. How was she supposed to keep herself from cumming like this?

And then it stopped. Seconds from erupting, Summer's pussy was left deliciously hungry, denied and aching for an orgasm.

Sensing her cue, she fumbled with pleasure-drunk fingers to ram her phone back in her bag and sort her dress.

Outside the stall, she quickly checked herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, but it was difficult to tell under her makeup. With a gentle shake of her head, her auburn pincurls righted themselves, and she grinned. She'd done as she was told.

At the table, Marston's face was a picture of joy. Summer sat down, doing her best to look dignified, and Marston smiled approvingly.

'Do you have proof?'

'Of course, sir.'

'Good girl. Well, if you'd like to follow me?' Marston tucked her chair under, and the pair walked quickly to the car, Summer's legs shaky under her.

Whatever was about to happen at the hotel, it was bound to be good. And God, she was ready.