laments-and-burlesque:

She had been wandering around the agency barefoot.

Now, this little quirk wasn’t really uncommon in certain business cultures, but this wasn’t the west coast or the tech sector. The older stuffier employees were complaining, and while I really could have cared less, I had no choice but to address it.

I called her into my office just to tell her to put her shoes back on. That was going to be the end of it, but for whatever reason, walking around this way at work was very important to her…

Now, the details of how we went from this simple exchange to her on her hands and knees under my desk with my cock between her lips have frankly gotten lost in my memory. However, I recall every luscious moment of her oral masterpiece.

Her eagerness, her religious-like devotion to the task, the way she challenged her gag reflex and took every inch of me… the real pleasure she seemed to experience when my cum flooded her throat…

I had interviewed her when she first applied, and while she was definitely a flirt, the thought of her being a cock-obsessed orally-fixated submissive was the farthest thing from my mind.

However, now that I knew, I would not be letting our connection end. So, even though I didn’t really give a damn if she wore footwear or not, there was going to be a penalty for her preference for bare feet… and it would be ongoing.

After she had finished with me, I kissed her passionately and tasted myself; an act that made
her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. As she started for the door, I delivered a hard spank to her
bottom. Just as she was about to exit, I added “you can
leave your shoes off… today.”

On my way home, I stopped at the local kink & porn establishment and procured a remote-operated vibrating ovule. After a fitful night’s sleep, the next morning I bought a tiny black gift-bag. Placing her half of the toy in the sack, I included a card that read:

• Put this inside you right now.
• When you feel it, come to my office.

When I arrived to open the agency, I tucked the present away under her desk. Once in my office, the sound of her cock-muffled elation from the day prior ran through my mind like a beloved song.

It was nice… but not quite enough. Reaching into the jacket of my suit, I fondled the ovule’s remote and
anticipated her second barefoot tariff. The sound she would make today would be even more ardent… it would make me cum again and again. There would be a chain reaction between us,

Hmmm…

Is it too early to start considering my
options for what tomorrow’s price should be?

laments-and-burlesque:

I have stolen your sight. Your green eyes,
those viridescent
jewels that seem to live in the back of my mind at all times, are sadly—just for one night—concealed from my gaze.  

You know you’re being observed by her; it has driven you to a point
of arousal I’ve not seen from you since the first time I kissed your
neck. I can literally smell your
vivication. And so can you.

The room is warm and freshly cleaned. Her perfume hangs in the air. Sensuously rich. “Is that pomegranate?” you inquire to yourself. Holding on to anything to compensate for your lack of vision, you anticipate the lyrics of
BØRNS‘ ‘American Money’ playing faintly in the background.

Your breathing is staggered as if you might hyperventilate. That
crimson flush that always tells me when you’ve entered sub-space… I
watch it spread from your cheeks to your neck and chest.

“Who is she? What does she look like?” you wonder. The desire
to know is consuming you. But those questions aren’t going to be
answered. Not yet. And maybe never. I haven’t decided if that blindfold
is coming off tonight.

As I look on, our guest uncrosses her legs. She stands and begins
inching slowly toward you. The sound of her chair settling followed by
the footfalls of her heels on the hardwood floor signal what’s coming.

I hear you audibly gasp… you could cum right now if I told you to