Upward Ambition Ch. 10

"You're right," he says, mastering himself with visible effort. "By the way, you have a little something here." He taps his neck with an unbearably smug smile. I touch my own neck in reflex and immediately feel the burn of the hickey Derek had left. Fuck. I clamp my hand over it uselessly while Kevin chortles and makes his way into the office.

Jesus fucking Christ, had Penny noticed it? She must have. My cheeks burn with shame at what she must think of me, even though logically I know it doesn't matter. Our relationship was doomed from the start. Besides, my mortification is exactly what Derek wants.

With effort, I lower my hand and hunch back over my keyboard. I make a mental note to stay far away from the guys in sales.

The minutes tick by without any sounds from Derek's office. I wish I'd thought to ask him if he would turn on his phone's intercom so that I could bear witness to Kevin's defeat. But maybe this is a victory that Derek wants to savor for himself.

I strain my ears, waiting for Kevin's raised voice, angry or pleading. Maybe he'll throw something. I have no doubt Derek will pass the entire meeting at ease in his chair, fingers steepled, voice calm and controlled. He's too classy to gloat.

It's nearly an hour before the door opens. I hastily open a random email and pretend to be engrossed in my screen, though I am desperate for a glimpse of Kevin as he storms by. To my surprise, he doesn't storm but rather saunters right up to my cubicle, entirely at his leisure. Okay, fine, maybe he's too proud to cause a scene. Or maybe he managed to wheedle a decent severance package out of Derek after all, though I can't imagine Derek showing the man any mercy.

"Jackie boy," Kevin says, all smiles. "Why don't you come and join me in my office for a chat?"

"Um," is all I can manage. He doesn't wait for my reply and just passes on by, calling out a cheerful greeting to some colleagues as he goes.

I lean around the edge of the cubicle to see that Derek's door is closed. Apprehension settles in my stomach like a lead weight. I opt to pick up the phone rather than knock.

"What?" he snaps, after barely one ring. Something is definitely wrong. This is not the tone of a man who has just achieved long-awaited vengeance.

"Um." I swallow hard, forcing myself to articulate. "Kevin asked me to meet him in his office."

"Go." His voice somehow grows even more waspish. "Do whatever he wants."

Wait, what?

"But--" I start, then stop. I'm talking to a dial tone.

My heart is pounding so hard my head is starting to hurt. What the fuck just happened? Does Kevin have something else besides the tax fraud to hold over Derek's head? I find it hard to believe that Derek would be sloppy enough to miss something in his investigations.

Part of me wants to yank open his office door and demand answers, but the very idea is ludicrous. I'm the fucktoy. I don't get to demand anything of Derek Harrow.

And apparently I don't get to tell Kevin Grant to go fuck himself either.

Numbly I lock my computer, send my phone to voicemail, and trudge across the building to Kevin's office. I can't shake the sensation of being a fly caught in the webs of spiders.

Kevin's door is open, and he's sitting behind his desk when I enter.

"Ah Jackie boy, glad you could join me." He beams. Like I had a choice. I'm not a fan of this new nickname either. It's not spoken with endearment but rather a faint hint of mockery. "Why don't you lock the door and come over here? We have a lot to discuss."

I swallow hard. I don't know what else to do but obey. My hand is shaking as I pull the door shut and engage the lock. I shove my hands in my pockets in an attempt to hide the trembling as I cross the room. First I head for one of the chairs across from his desk but he tsks me and gestures to the floor beside him. Right. Silly me.

He tsks me again when I'm standing at his side. "Hasn't Derek taught you it's rude to stand over your betters?"

He grabs my tie and yanks down, nearly wrenching my neck until I obligingly fall to my knees. I think I'm going to be sick.

"There, that's better," he says, with no little satisfaction. He pats my cheek, and I shudder at his clammy touch. If he notices, he doesn't let on. "I have something important I want to show you."

I'm half expecting him to take out his cock--the mere thought causes bile to rise in my throat--but instead he lifts a sleek tablet from his desk and taps on the screen for a few seconds. He flips it around to show me the screen. I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking at. Financial accounts of some sort. Financial accounts with a rather hefty balance. Kevin waits patiently as I study the screen, until I finally realize a crucial detail I've missed. The account holder's name is mine.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Well, you should know, it has your name on it."

"I've never seen this before in my life."

"Very convincing," he says. "You might convince a jury with that face. Or you might not. Hard to tell these days."

"What are you talking about?" My confusion is tipping into irritation, but he doesn't seem bothered in the least.

"This is the secret bank account where you've been siphoning company money for the past couple years," he says calmly. "Or at least, that's what it will look like to the forensic accountants."

I gape at him, trying to shape another what, but I can't quite vocalize it.

"A thousand from petty cash here, a fraudulent reimbursement request there, it adds up over time." Kevin taps on the screen to zoom into the total. Nearly a million dollars. "You're well into felony territory, Jackie boy."

I shake my head mutely as panic claws at the back of my throat.

"Let me guess," he goes on, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. "Derek has been holding you hostage with the threat of that big client lawsuit?"

I just stare up at him. It's obviously not a real question.

"It's clever enough." Kevin rubs the edge of his shoe along my forearm, and I jerk away from him. He just chuckles. "But it's too short term. That's always been Derek's problem. Too impulsive. He doesn't see the big picture."

"Impulsive" is not a term I would ever use to describe Derek Harrow. Maybe my skepticism shows in my face, because Kevin chuckles again.

"I know, I know, he has you eating out of the palm of his hand. The man knows how to get what he wants, I'll give him that much. But that's another problem, you see. He's too used to getting what he wants. Too shortsighted to think twice about things he really ought to have seen coming."

I have no idea what Kevin is blathering on about. If I was able to concentrate, I might be able to glean some clues as to what exactly Kevin is holding over Derek's head now, but my mind keeps circling around the number on that screen. Felony territory.

"Now, Jack, please pay attention." Kevin snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I blink up at him. "I'm showing you this because I want you to be quite clear on where you stand. There's no point in going to the police or anyone else for help. I'm very good at what I do, and you wouldn't accomplish anything but bringing the axe down on your own neck. And Derek can't help you either, even if he was so inclined. He has his own axe to worry about. Do you understand?"

I blink again. Kevin slaps me across the face, hard enough that tears spring to my eyes.

"Well?" he demands.

"I understand." My voice is gravelly and weak. I really do think I'm going to be sick.

"Good." He settles more deeply into his chair, uncrossing his legs. My gaze is drawn inexorably to his crotch, though I immediately look away. His smug expression is absolutely disgusting. "We're going to have a lot of fun, Jackie boy--or I am, at least."

He navigates on the tablet for a few seconds, then shows me the screen again. Now it's a high angle video, like from a security camera. The room it shows has tile floors and several tables in a row against the wall. The tables are covered with objects that I can't discern on the small screen. The walls are lined too with what I mistake as artwork at first and then realize with a shiver are various implements of torture. Whips and crops and paddles galore. Nothing I haven't seen before, but at least Derek doesn't display his collection so ghoulishly. I'm suddenly glad I can't make out what's on the tables.

I've been purposefully ignoring the main focus of the camera, which is no easy feat considering how prominently he hangs in the center of the room. It's a young man--possibly the same one at Kevin's heel at the charity event, though it's impossible to tell. He's naked and trussed up in a leather harness, dangling about four feet from the floor, rotating slowly. His arms are twisted behind his back at an uncomfortable angle, and his ankles are bound up in almost a hogtie but spread wide so that his plump ass is on clear display. His hole is stretched obscenely wide with a plug. As he makes another full rotation, I can see that he's in a full leather hood with no eye holes. Two tubes extend from his nostrils--presumably the only way he can breathe, since there's also a thick plug distending his mouth. Maybe the same phallus gag from the night before.

He's not struggling at all. The only movement about him are his slow rotation and the slight rise and fall of his chest. The scene would be almost serene, if it weren't so disturbing.

"Why are you showing me this?" I ask, dragging my gaze away from the screen.

"I just thought we might get to know each other a little better." Kevin strokes a finger almost fondly across the image of his dangling captive. "This is my latest pet. As you can see, he's very well trained, which isn't my usual preference, but I do enjoy pushing him past his limits. It's so much more satisfying to break a seasoned boy than one who's still wet behind the ears. Not that the latter isn't its own special reward." He casts me a meaningful glance that I force myself to ignore.

When I don't say anything--and keep my eyes stubbornly averted from the screen--he lets out a longsuffering sigh.

"Here," he shoves the tablet further under my nose. "Press that red button."

I stare at the image of a red button in the corner of the screen. There's no caption suggesting its purpose.

"Why?" I ask warily.

Quicker than I can flinch, he slaps me again. I bring a hand to my burning cheek and glare at him.

"You're very badly behaved, considering how long Derek's been using you," Kevin says. "To be honest, I would have expected better from him."

The prickling of indignation I feel on Derek's behalf is utterly ridiculous, and also precisely Kevin's aim, but I can't help myself. I jab at the screen with one finger. For a couple of seconds, nothing happens, and then the boy convulses, swinging wildly in his restraints. Kevin slides a finger along the sound bar, and his pet's garbled wails emanate from the tiny speakers.

I recoil. I'm only just now noticing the wires protruding from the plug in the boy's anus, as well as from his nipples and from the cage imprisoning his penis and balls. Kevin taps the button again and emits a happy little sigh as his captive convulses again from the electric current being zapped directly into his most tender parts. I try not to notice the tenting in Kevin's pants, but it's impossible to miss. Is this what Fultech's CFO is doing all day? Getting his rocks off torturing his sex slave from afar? At least Derek gets work done when he isn't fucking me--and sometimes while he's fucking me.

"You're sick," I say and immediately wince in anticipation of another slap, but Kevin just grins. I almost prefer the slap.

"Maybe so." He sets the tablet aside and starts undoing his belt and trousers. I guess I can't pretend to be surprised. There was never any chance of this little "chat" ending any other way.

The inevitability does not make it any easier when his cock springs into view. I'm weirdly gratified that it's less impressive than Derek's, but it's not pathetic either. I have a feeling it's going to feel much bigger down my throat or wherever else he decides to shove it.

"I've been waiting a long time for this." His fingers caress the back of my head as he pulls me closer. "Sometimes when I was fucking the flavor of the month, I'd imagine it was you instead, moaning under me, begging me to stop, even as you thrust that slutty ass up at me, desperate for more."

He's stroking himself while he talks, his voice breathy and low. My skin is crawling, and I find myself pushing back against his grip, even though I know it's useless. I want to clamp my lips shut. I want to punch him in the dick and flee. But where can I run to escape a felony conviction? I have no doubt that Kevin would pull the trigger on his threat before I'd even made it out of the building.

With no other choice in sight, I let Kevin Grant feed his cock into my mouth. He goes slowly--to savor his triumph, not to spare me any discomfort. The maddening pace is actually much worse, because I can taste every centimeter of him as he slides along my tongue. He tastes...wrong. Too pungent. Too sweaty. And with a faint aftertaste of piss.

He's just not Derek, I realize. He could have a dick made of ambrosia, and I'd still hate it.

I gag before he even makes it to the back of my throat. He lets me pull back for a few seconds, probably not eager to have a lap full of vomit, but it's not long before he's back at it. I close my eyes and try to pretend I'm somewhere else. He uses me like a fleshlight for maybe thirty seconds before he makes a frustrated sound and pulls out. I guess reality isn't living up to his twisted little fantasy. Maybe he'll let me go.

Instead he hits the speed dial on his phone and puts the call on speaker.

"What do you want?" Derek's tone is all kinds of dangerous, but Kevin isn't fazed. If anything, he seems pleased.

"Manners, Derek," he says, twining his fingers through my hair and pulling me closer to the receiver. "Your protégé is a disappointing cocksucker. Maybe you should give him a few pointers before I get bored and start making some other phone calls."

There's a long beat of silence. I try not to imagine Derek in his office, holding the receiver in a death grip. The impotent fury he must be feeling is too painful to even contemplate. Whatever Kevin is using to blackmail him must be big, to prevent Derek from leaping through the phone and stabbing him in the eye with a letter opener.

"Jack," Derek spits out finally. I hate the way he says it. Like my name is a bad taste in his mouth. Like he was done with me the moment Kevin put a hand on me. "I don't have time for this. Do as you're told."

"I don't--" My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the room and its resident pervert. For a second, it's just me and Derek. "I don't want to."

It's a stupid thing to say. I know that. Of course I know that. But I can't stop myself. There's some small, naïve, stupid part of me that thinks Derek will stop this somehow. That he'll hear the desperation in my voice, and he'll...save me.

Another heavy pause.

"It doesn't matter what you want," Derek says darkly. "Fucktoys get fucked. That's all they're good for."

I would probably be more hurt if I didn't recognize the acute frustration in his voice, not at me but at the words coming out of his own mouth. He's just saying what Kevin wants to hear. Irritation quickly overshadows the hurt blooming in my chest.

"I thought you didn't like sharing your toys," I say, with no little scorn. "I guess you're all talk."

Kevin emits a small sound that is a mixture of shock and delight. I'm surprised at myself. My body quavers instinctually. For a long while, Derek is silent, but I can sense his rage radiating through the phone. I'm not sure my imagination is big enough to grasp the pain I would be in, if he were in the room right now. But he's not here. Kevin fucking Grant is here, and there's nothing Derek can do about it.

And the very thought makes me miserable.

"I have work to do, Grant," Derek says. "If you can't keep him in line, then maybe you should find yourself a different cocksucker."

Kevin laughs, even as his grip on my hair tightens painfully.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," he says. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or Derek. "How about this? You can wait patiently while Jackie here proves how much he's learned under your instruction, and if I'm satisfied with his progress, I won't make you come over here and get on your knees beside him."

"You wouldn't dare," Derek says, but there's a distinct lack of conviction in his voice that makes my mouth go dry. Whatever trump card Kevin has, he's clearly not shy about using it. I guess he was content with his role as happy-go-lucky CFO until Derek tried to oust him, and now the claws are out.

"You're not my type--anymore." Kevin's smile is venomous, and I try not to think about him alone in the conference room with a young Derek, fresh out of college, while Mike Harrow waited outside the door for his debt to be paid. "But a warm mouth is a warm mouth."

The silence on the other end of the line is deafening. Now that Kevin has threatened him outright, I know Derek won't order me again to suck his dick. He's too proud for that. Which means that either Kevin has overplayed his hand or he has judged the situation perfectly and knows exactly what's going to happen next.

I slide my hands onto his thighs. Revulsion rises in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. I'm not doing this for Derek, I tell myself. The sooner I get this fucker off, the sooner I can get out of here. It's just self-preservation.

But even to myself, I'm not very convincing.

"Mr. Grant," I say, in a tone that I hope is suitably subservient. "May I please suck your cock?"

I think I hear a sound from the phone, but when I strain my ears to listen, there is only silence. Kevin relaxes back in his chair, though he keeps the hand on the back of my head.

"That's more like it." He nudges me forward.

I try to tunnel vision on the penis in front of my face. If I can forget who it's attached to, then this whole enterprise is going to be much more bearable. I start with my tongue, light flicks at first on the purplish mushroom head, and then I lick a stripe down the underside that makes Kevin catch his breath. I lean in to mouth his scrotum, fondling the balls with my lips until he's gripping my hair so tightly it feels like he's going to rip a chunk out of my head.

I try not to feel guilty that I'm using the same methods I learned at Derek's feet. It's not like I have any other cocksucking experiences to draw from. No doubt that's half the pleasure for Kevin, knowing that he's reaping the benefits of Derek's tutelage. Knowing that Derek knows it too.

Stop thinking about Derek.

I close my lips around the head and suck hard. My nose wrinkles at the taste of precum, but fortunately my gag reflex stays under control as I force myself further down. My throat is sore and bruised from all the blow jobs I've been giving recently, and I wonder briefly if I'm going to end up with tonsillitis. Is that a thing you can get from too much cocksucking?

Perhaps aware that my mind has begun to wander, Kevin slides his foot between my legs and grinds his toe against my balls. I groan in a way that probably vibrates pleasingly along his shaft, and when my eyes flutter open briefly I see that he's holding the phone receiver right next to my mouth. I try not to think about Derek on the other end of the line, listening to me giving head to his archnemesis. It's not like any of this is my fault. I never wanted anything to do with either of these men. They're the ones who dragged me into their sick power games.