Why I Love My Job Ch. 04

I stirred everything together, and we sat down to eat, still dressed for work.

"It's like... too much flavor," she said. "I can taste all the individual things. And it's spicy. What are the crunchy things?"

"Water chestnuts."

"I've never heard of them. There's not a lot of flavor in them."

"They are there for the texture, plus some fiber and some minerals. Mostly just to bite into, though."

She sank into the experience of food that didn't taste like badly flavored cardboard. After a bit she looked up. "We cooked too much."

"Leftovers," I said. "You'll have them for lunch tomorrow."

"I couldn't. The other secretaries... they'd... well, be jealous."

"Good."

"Sir, I-"

She cut off. Eighteen, I reminded myself. Not a lot of life experience.

"You're welcome," I said.

"I... don't like having to thank you. You're ruthless."

"I've heard that," I said. "Unfortunately, it's true."

"I can't sleep in your bed tonight, sir," she said suddenly.

"You will, and it's not negotiable."

"I know what Miss Suzie did, sir."

"You watched."

"Not very long. But I heard everything, sir."

"Hot, wasn't it ...And in the apartment I think you can drop the sir."

"She wants you very much, si- um... how do I address you if isn't sir?"

"My friends call my Scott."

"That's of no use to me."

"It might be. You never know."

"Whatever. She wants you, very much."

"And she makes it very obvious."

"Why did you get rid of her?"

"Boredom. So you see, there's hope," I said, a little grimly. "Bore me and eventually I'll let you go."

"So where will I sleep tonight?"

"In my bed. Never ask that again."

"I- I can't. She wore that collar and just... and I'm next. It's... degrading."

"If I can give you the benefit of my advanced age and greater wisdom... the real problem is, it's hot. You'll respond sexually when you put on that collar and lie in my bed. You don't want to. You hate the idea. But we both know it will happen. Smelling her perfume on the sheets will make it worse."

"Why do you want me around if you could have her. She's willing. She wants you. She's pretty."

"She's not pretty. She's hot, but pretty isn't the same and it's something she can't reach."

"Am I- damn it," she said. "I can't believe I almost asked that."

"Yes, you are."

"And that's why I'm here."

I looked at her. She got very interested in the last remaining piece of carrot on her plate.

"Eat that," I said.

"Why?"

"Because you want to and because I want you to have the experience of being obedient to me, right now."

"It's not an experience I want to get used to fee-"

"Now."

She ate it, shivering.

"You liked the way it tasted. The feel of it in your mouth. The flavors, the complexity of it. And that fact that I insisted made you more aware of everything, the taste and feel."

"Please stop this. Everything is a trick with you. Conversation, nice food, a woman in your bed, that awful collar, it's all some kind of trick."

I got up and walked over to her chair, and tilted her head back. The cool, expressionless demeanor suddenly collapsed. There was the fear again.

I kissed her, slowly and insistently. She was frozen, unable to push me away, unable to kiss back. My lips moved over hers, invitingly. Suddenly her head went down and she shivered.

"You're the one that wants to know what a kiss means," I said.

"Not curious now," she said in a very small voice.

I draw her to her feet. She didn't resist. I walked her to the couch, set her down in it, and sat next to her. She sat there, not looking at me.

I kissed her mouth, over and over, my fingers toying with her hair, not quite gripping. She remained frozen, breathing slow and steady, not moving, not doing anything at all – but she couldn't stop the relentless hardening of her nipples, or the little shivers when my fingers shifted in my hair.

"I won't tell you you have to," I said softly. "That makes it too easy for you. That makes it my fault. I'll just kiss you until you kiss back because you can't fight it any more."

"Won't happen," she said in a very soft voice. She was looking down, drawing in on herself, trying to hide. But I wasn't going to allow her that.

I kissed her mouth again, passionately, softly, roughly, gently and mockingly, while massaging the back of her neck and scalp. My hands didn't go lower; I didn't what this to be about her boobs and legs and pussy. I was going after her feelings, and she knew it. Her eyes closed tight, and then she shook her head, but I held it tightly. Kiss after kiss after lingering kiss, and then she moaned.

"Trick. Bad. Stop!"

I pressed my tongue against her lips, and stroked, slowly. They parted, closed again; she moaned, and tried to turn her head, but I would not let her. I licked her mouth again, and then nibbled her lower lip, making them part again. The next kiss found her still frozen, but with her lips parted... she shivered to every kiss now, and whimpered as I licked her mouth open, wider and wider. She started to close them, but I growled...

She mewled, and then her lips responded to mine, slowly, but softly.

"Good girl," I whispered. "Kiss. I like the way it feels when you kiss."

I kissed her deeper, and she mewled again. "No... bad... bad... you're... bad..."

I draw her into my lap, and then she was kissing back, groan for groan and tongue for tongue. Only then did I stroke her sides, and then her breasts and legs. In the end her hands went to my chest, stroking lightly, and we made out – there's no other word for it – as I slowly removed her blouse and skirt, and then kissed her throat. My thumbs stroked over her bared nipples, and her eyes sent sightless. My cock was huge under her, and she couldn't stop herself from shifting and rocking on it.

I kissed her mouth again, deeply. Shaking, her hands went around my neck, and she clung. My hand traced down her belly, and she kissed me back more frantically, trying not to think about what happened next.

I slid my hand over her panties, and massaged, and my kisses got rougher, and then gently and alluring, then rougher again. Suddenly her legs slid apart, and her panties were soaked. I slid my hand in.

"Please... don't make me wear that collar..."

I speared a finger in, slowly. "Yes. You'll always be in my collar when I fuck you." She clenched down on my finger, and I curled it, over and over, deeper each time, feeling out the spots that made her whimper. "I'll put it on you the first time. After that... you will put it on for me, each night."

"No... " she whispered, but I kissed her mouth again, thrusting into it with my tongue in time with the movement of my finger. Her shudders became continuous, and then she was grinding on my cock, slowly but deliberately.

I stood her up, undressed her completely, and walked her into the bedroom. Suzie had left the collar on my bed, and I took it up in my hand and ran it lightly over Julianne's lips. "Kiss it."

"You're... bad..." she whispered, dazedly, kissing it once, and then over and over. "Now... I'm... bad..."

I put it on her, and lay her back on the bed. Her legs opened and her hips tilted up. I undressed, got over her, gripped the collar, and made her kiss me as I pushed firmly into her. Her frightened but increasingly animalistic moans turned me to fire, and I took what I wanted, groaning in need as she squeezed down and rocked for me, sucking my tongue and running her hands in my hair. She was no expert at being pleasing, but her willingness counted for a lot, and then she stroked those long, pretty legs along the backs of mine, and I was rigid and growling, and her breasts pressed up against me, hard nipples sliding, and I thrust into her, uncontrollable now, I needed this from her; she sobbed, and I came inside her, spurt after hot spurt...

She didn't come, but she gasped and shook with each thrust, until I lie still on top of her.

"Nice," I said, softly. "Tell me what you feel."

"No. Can't," she whispered.

"Tell me."

She shook her head no.

"You're needy, and don't want to admit it, among other things." I drew her against me, and gripped her collar again. "I'm going to use my finger. You'll come for me."

She shook her head no again. I choked back a chuckle. Even she knew she was beaten.

I kissed her, working a finger inside her, until her legs shook and she arched, gasping. Then I lowered my mouth to her nipple and sucked it in roughly, pushing another finger inside her, spreading them wide, clawing at the spots that got to her.

She thrashed through her orgasm; then I curled her tight against me and kissed her face, lightly, over and over.

"You're... evil," she said in a soft shattered voice.

"I've been told that," I murmured.

"You can have Suzie," she said. "She wants you."

"You're more interesting. And you kiss better."

"She... must really suck at it then."

"She kind of does."

"I don't lo- like you."

"That's ok," I said. "I think you might, someday."

She just shivered, and I wrapped us in Suzie-scented blankets. She drifted towards sleep.

+++

When I woke up, she was very lightly stroking my cock.

"Baby..." I murmured.

"Oh shit," she whispered, freezing.

"What have I told you about language."

"Don't spank me. I'm still sore from before."

"You got me hard in my sleep, slut."

"I'm sorry!"

"Keep touching me. You start something with me, you find out how it ends."

Her hand stroked, trembling a little. I was already fully hard, and a little sore.

"Why did you touch me."

"I... don't know."

"Try to explain. Now."

"I... I've never woken up with anyone after sex. You were right there and hot and... my hand just bumbled into it. It was heavy and warm but so soft... it was just... interesting. I... please let me stop," she said, miserably.

"I'm not even sure I'd come again," I told her. "I've had a lot recently, not that I'm complaining. But you... you're curious and insatiable and turned on again."

"No I'm not."

"Really. Put a finger against your slit and tell me what you find."

"...No."

"Do it!"

She did. "I'm... wet."

I put my hand over hers, and pushed her finger in, with one of mine. "Have you ever masturbated with someone next to you?"

"No. Yes. He didn't know. Or if he did he didn't say anything. He was inside the tent, I was outside, we were learning against each other, back to back, talking. I pretended to fall asleep, and... touched. I was very, very quiet, and... I pretended to be waking up as I came. Don't... make me."

"Keep touching yourself, and me. Kiss me as you do it."

"You never let me say no."

"It's not a word I like. Now kiss me."

She did, in that shy, scared way inexperienced girls do when they're afraid of turning you on, but just end up turning you on harder with their fear and uncertainty.

"Wait," I said. "My cock. You're not doing it right. It's not just grip and pump. Lay the heel of your palm across the head of my cock, your fingertips towards the balls."

She gave a deeply embarrassed, frightened giggle. "When I started this, my hand reached all the way. Now I don't. I... did that."

"You better keep doing it, too."

She adjusted her hand, and rubbed down, a little too gently. "More and a little faster. It's not made of glass. And the same advice to your other hand."

We kissed. She moaned, suddenly.

"The collar..."

"Yes?"

"It... does something to me. I... when you call me your property..."

"Faster."

She gasped. "It shouldn't be hot. Being someone's... plaything. You call me those names, slut, fucktoy, plaything. I'm not, I'm..."

"Faster, Julianne."

"No... don't! You're making me..."

"Making you come?"

"No," she said, miserably. "Making me... like this. You're just... I don't understand. I'm not a slut, I'm just... please. I have to hate you. I have to! The kisses don't mean what you think! Stop making me get... confused... It's just... You're so big. So thick, touching it is hypnotic..."

I reached above my head and tapped the light panel. The room lit, dimly, and I kicked the blanket aside. "Look at what you're doing."

She looked, and her mouth fell open, slowly, as she watched my precum coat her wrist. "Let me stop. Please. You're teaching me to..."

"Be pleasing," I whispered in her ear. "You want to watch me come. Making me come feels so good. The thickness, the hardness, the hotness, and the noises I make, the thick white cum dripping on your hand. Almost as good as coming yourself... isn't it."

Her finger moved inside her, faster. I took her by the collar and moved her face towards my cock, slowly. Her lips parted further.

"You like tasting yourself on me. Don't you, slut."

"No- no- yes-"

I forced her lips over the head of my cock, and felt her tongue slide over it, warm and heavy and eager. Suddenly she whimpered and her body arched, her finger moving frantically inside her-

I took her hand away from herself, and turned over. "You can't come and you can't touch me. Try to get some sleep."

She thrashed in frustration, and whimpered when she realized I meant it. I drifted back to sleep to her whispering over and over, "evil... you're evil... evil..."

+++

The next day on the way to work I stopped at a private antique shop. It took the ancient proprietor thirty minutes, but in the end he turned up three pencils and a strange, metal mechanical device for sharpening them, with of all things a crank. After warning me about lead poisoning, he explained that the sharpener needed to be oiled once a year and that diamond nanolub wouldn't work, and charged me an unbelievable fifty credits for it. I sharpened a pencil in his store, figuring if the dust was toxic I didn't want it in my office.

A sheet of printer paper from one of the ancient printers in the basement, and I clumsily hand-wrote a note for Cheryl, giving her an address and time, and mentioning the tap on her phone. Having never hand-written anything longer than my signature, and only with an electric stylus, I found the experience more than a little bizarre. But I looked at the pencil after I used it, and the tip was barely worn at all. It was probably good for hundreds of uses, no battery, lightweight, no moving parts... I was surprised they'd fallen out of fashion, poisonous and all.

Curious, I went to find Bill, a friend with uncanny knowledge of the times before I was born, and a historian for Company research.

"Tell me about pencils."

"What, seriously? Seditious devices. They aren't quite illegal but that's only because the government didn't want to start an underground trade."

"Huh?"

"I'm serious. It was convenient – for the Governments and in many ways the Company – for every form of communication to be digital and interceptable. Pencils and pens had to go. So the rumor got out that the damn things were poisonous, that they contained heavy metals and represented, get this, a terrorist hazard on aircraft. You can still get forty credits for turning in a pack of pencils. The funny part is, every year or so I get some bright young tech in here with a great new design for an electric-free 'stylus'. I've seen some pretty good designs, too. I have to kill it each and every time. The Government will never let it get to market." He smirked. "I do keep the prototypes the techs come up with. They're about perfect for leaving dirty letters for the secretaries to find."

"Thanks," I said.

"Whatever you're doing... don't get caught."

"Words to live by."