A wicked grin curves your lips as you crook a finger, beckoning me towards you. “More fun this way.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter as I shake my head and move to straddle you, leaning back against you. You’re already rock hard and the call is five minutes away now. I’m allowed a moment to clear my head and get the headset on before your hands slowly begin to slide up my thighs. I’m wearing easy-access clothing, a habit I’ve picked up in the last few months of being with you. Easier this way. Less clothing to replace, although from time to time, I do like the tearing sounds different kinds of fabric make when you rip them off me.
Soft lips brush my shoulder, then nails run along my thighs as you growl, “Like you had a choice.” Such soft, menacing laughter.
God, I love what you do to me. You’re right. I never really did. But then I never do with you. With a groan, I look over at the clock.
“I’ll tell you when it’s time. Get your eyes off the clock.”
Shivering, I look down instead, watching as your fingers begin sliding against my inner thighs, your hands squeezing — first gently, then tighter. Just as I think you’re about to leave marks, I feel teeth on my skin as the first finger dips in, finding me more than ready for the sequence of events to follow. With what can only be described as growling laughter, your teeth dig in as your finger brushes my clit. The combination of sensations has my breath catching in my throat. My head rocks back as sensation flares through my body, pulling a groan from my lips. I can feel another hand sliding up my torso to cup my tit beneath the fabric of my shirt, squeezing it as your fingers pinch the nipple.
Your lips replace your teeth, gently rubbing your lips along my skin before growling, “The top. Take it off. Now.”
I quickly comply, shivering. For a moment, I realize that it’s not entirely fair that you’re the only one wearing a full set of clothes in this particular scenario, but the thought is obliterated as I lean back and you bite down again, your fingers dancing against me. My cries echo out in the small room and the sound of your own groans behind me are damn near doing me in already.
I shudder against you, a wave of numbing heat rolling through me as I crash over, knowing that I’ll have bite marks when I go to look in the mirror afterwards. You know how much I love looking at them afterward. As I come back to myself, you’re chuckling softly, kissing the marks that you’ve made on my body.
“Should be… just about…” you murmur, and the phone rings.
“SHIT,” I hiss, trying to collect myself. My breath hitching, I make sure that the mic is muted before I bring the call online. I’m greeted and take the mic off mute long enough to respond.
“You OK? You sound a little tired,” someone asks.
I nod, then smack myself on the forehead mentally, realizing that the person on the other side of the line can’t see me. I feel your hands on my hips as I reply, “Ah, yeah. Long weekend.”
I carry on an inane call and response conversation while your hands slide back up my torso, cupping my breasts and squeezing. I’m struggling to remain focused on keeping my breathing straight, slow and smooth, in and out. The social chatter stops and I click the mute on the mic again as you squeeze HARD this time, growling in my ear. Whimpering, I grip the edges of the desk, my breathing coming hard and fast as you release me, then nip at my neck.
“Good girl,” you murmur softly, kissing my shoulder. “Stand up.”
I comply, waiting for everybody on the call to arrive so that the meeting itself can begin. I feel you shift beneath me and hear the sound of a zipper as you adjust yourself in the chair. Pressing my hands on the desk, I feel the head of your cock as you grip my hips and pull me back down against you.
“Now, a level of difficulty, I think,” you murmur.
Ah, shit, I think to myself, pretty sure that it’s awfully fucking difficult at the moment.
“You are now going to grind this fucking cock for all you’re worth. Am I understood?”
Shaking, I nod quickly as I feel a hot flush race across my skin. “Yes, Sir.”
The last person on the call is ready, and important pieces of information are now being shared. Fortunately, it’s information that I don’t really need to be paying attention to yet. I wince as I feel the sting of a slap on my ass. “Speak the fuck up, slut.”
“YES, Sir.” I reply crisply, finding myself having an issue with breathing again.
“Now.” Amused impatience colors your tone, but it’s quickly replaced with a groan as I slide myself down over your cock, slowly bouncing, once — twice, then pushing you all the way in to the hilt.
For a moment, we both simply revel in the moment — me completely filled and you surrounded with my moist heat. Once I’m able to breathe again, I begin moving against you, grinding my hips in time with your groans of pleasure. An issue that I’ve been waiting for an update on comes up, and I snap my fingers — my ‘safeword,’ as it were, in this particular instance. I slide you all the way in, struggling to keep from breathing too hard before unmuting the phone. Your hand finds its way to my breast, cupping it as your other hand snakes into my hair, pulling it gently. I battle with controlling my voice as I feel your teeth scrape against my skin, nipping, then biting. Thankfully, the update is quick and the phone goes back on mute. Immediately, I feel your hand bending me forward. My hands slap on the desk and you grab my hips, slamming up into me. My entire body trembles and your name spills from my lips as you growl, “MINE.”
The very word is enough to send me over again and I clamp a hand over my mouth, capturing my own scream. Nobody on the call needs to hear a muted scream. It’d only bring up questions that would be entirely too embarrassing to answer. Pulling me back against you, still sheathed deep within me, you chuckle darkly, nuzzling my neck.
“Such a good pet,” you murmur softly, your fingers tugging gently at the soft nap of fur between my legs. With a contented, rumbling sound, you tug harder, knowing what it does to me.
“Ah, fuck…” I cry out, body bowing away from you.
“Hmm…” you murmur. “I suppose I should leave you to your call.”
“God, no… please, please.”
Begging. I’m here fucking begging you to keep going.
“Only if you’re sure…”
Now, I know you’re being a dick. Teasing me. Pushing me. I love it and hate it at the same time.
I turn to look back at you, seeing that shit-eating grin on your face and not knowing whether to kiss you or sock you in the jaw.
“God, I love that ‘just been fucked’ look of yours. Makes me wanna fuck your throat.”
I groan as your lips meet mine, turning towards you entirely as our tongues tangle. Somebody’s calling my name — oh, shit, the call! I snap again and quickly spin to unmute the mic, “Sorry. Had it on mute.”
I quickly mute it again so that I can get a handle on my breathing as I’m asked a question. I flip through the data in my head and on the screen and come up with a response, and then it’s on to the next person on the call and it goes back on mute.
“You’re a little too good at that,” you rumble, eying me suspiciously as I look back at you. “Makes me think you’re not entirely into it.”
My eyes narrow and I know you can see the irritation on my face. You look back at me with a mild expression, then raise an eyebrow.
Oops. Outstared. “Ah… is there anything that I can do to convince you of my continued… interest?” I ask tentatively.
“Get your lips around my dick. Might do the trick.”
I slide off your lap and look back at you. “It’s always something.”
Your expression closes down and you ask, “You sassin’ me? You sure you wanna go there — during a conference call?”
Oh shit. That look always chills me — but it excites the hell out of me as well. Although I like misbehaving, I’m never big on receiving actual punishment. You’re not like other doms that reward bad behavior. If I fuck up, payback’s a bitch, so I shake my head and quietly answer, “No, Sir.”