Perfectly Content

My long legs curl beneath me as I sit beneath your desk, the very image of subservience. My long swath of hair is swept over one shoulder, leaving my neck and breasts exposed, begging for your touch. I am naked, except for the butterfly clips that bite at my nipples. I look up at you from under the curtain of my lashes, biting my lip.

You are far too busy to notice me. Your work is very important and I am a mere distraction. As you speak, your voice washes over me, your accent so distinct to my own. Your vowels are deliciously soft, your consonants crisp. Even as I listen to you talk of business, of market saturation and distribution, I find myself getting wet. 

Your hand reaches towards me and begins to idly stroke my hair. You have fallen silent, listening intently to the meeting broadcast on your laptop. As the webinar progresses, I can feel your frustration build. You are unhappy with whomever is presenting and your muscles tense as you prepare your rebuttal. Your fingers find the rose gold chain connected to my nipple clamps and tug sharply. The icy pain floods my body and I struggle to stifle my gasp, knowing that any noise will cause future punishment. You allow me a moment of respite and, as the pain has subsided, you yank the chain again.

I cannot smother the moan that escapes my lips, as molten as my cunt, which drips luxuriantly down my legs. The desperation to touch myself is overwhelming and I strongly consider disobeying your orders in a bid to quell the aching, burning fire that rages between my legs. The chain clinks as I pull against your hand, seeking to increase the agonizing pleasure.

I can practically hear the smile that flashes across your face as you drop the chain with a delicate clink. My bottom lip protrudes in a brattish show of despondency. The laptop pings as you mute your microphone.

“If you cannot be quiet.” you say, careful to keep your face neutral, a performance for your colleagues on the video call, “I will have to gag you.”

Your hand grips the back of my head and presses me towards your crotch. Eagerly, I undo your pants, releasing your magnificent cock from the confines of your boxers. Already aroused, your cock rises before me, a beacon of hedonistic pleasure. I greedily lap at you, licking you from base to tip.

The dynamic shifts. Although I am the one chained beneath you, I possess the power. As you suppress your moans, taking you into my mouth. You slide past the resistance, lodging deep in my throat. Then, teasingly, cruelly, I pull away, leaving only the tip in the warm, wet chamber of my mouth. You shift beneath me, craving a deeper touch.

After a few more excruciating seconds, I take pity on you and resume deepthroating you. Your body relaxes against me, your warm hand placed on the back of my neck - a benediction.

I love worshiping your cock; love the sensation of being filled with you. I can smell you; taste you; touch you. Surrounded by pure bliss, I am grateful for the opportunity to pleasure you.

Although your eyes are firmly fixated upon your laptop screen, your face a perfect picture of professionalism, your closed fists and white knuckles betray the inferno raging within you. I lick your cock, stoke the fires of passion, feel your muscles tense beneath me.

I want to drive you wild; to have you as desperate to touch me as I am to touch you. You are a distant, radiant being and I, a mere mortal in comparison, am obsessed with you. If I could, I would spend each day in your arms. I exist in a perpetual state of arousal, overwhelmed by my need for you. And you are impervious to my charms.

Previous boyfriends fell at my feet, fell over themselves as they promised me the world, fell deeply and irrevocably in love. You offer no such pandering. It is only in the depths of the night when the world is asleep and we are covered by a shroud of darkness that you even dare to hint at the gravity of your emotions.

Eventually, after what seems like a lifetime, your meeting ends. My jaw aches from the exertion as you pull me off of your prick and wipe the spit from my face.

“Good girl,” you breathe.

I grin stupidly at the compliment, which sends a delicious wave of pleasure through my body. You offer me your hand. My palm slips into yours. Pulling me to my feet, you straighten my long limbs, assess my body. You run your fingers across my tender limbs, smoothing over the sites of soreness caused by my confinement.

You lift me onto the desk, lay me back and kneel before me. Your eyes locked on mine; you slowly lowered your mouth to my pussy. Your tongue soothes the blaze emitting from my needy, sensual center. You draw circles around my clit. I wrap my legs round your head and writhe against your lips. As your tongue dances a tarantella across my skin, you build into a crescendo, lashing my tender clit with intense kisses.

My back arches, every tendon in my body tightens and releases. Galaxies flash behind my closed eyes; cosmoses forming and expanding as your tongue continues its relentless assault. I scream daddy into the void, the orgasm overtaking my body.

When my pleasurable spasms have subsided, you climb beside me on the desk and wrap your arms around me. You taste like me and I kiss you deeply, drinking you in. I reach for you and stroke your hardness, feeling as you harden beneath my touch.

Your strong arms lift me from the desk and bend me over it. Your cock slips into my wet pussy with ease and you pin me to the desk as you start to fuck me. Your thrusts are slow and strong. Pushed against the rigid mass of your desk, the clamps on my tits bite further into my soft skin, a delightful assault. You kiss my neck as you move inside of me - the cool dominance of your touch giving way to sweet affection. The contrasting pressures soothe the twin needs that storm inside me. I need you to love me. I need you to control me. You straddle the opposition, fighting my desires into submission and fulfilling all my desires.

A sudden smack across my ass jolts me from my orgasmic haze. The electric shock emitted from your hand causes me to squeal in delight. Twisting my body, I raise my hips, invite you deeper inside of me. You slam into me, grasping my hair and forcing my head back. Entranced, I repeat "daddy"... like a mantra, clinging to you as the waves of my orgasms threaten to sweep the legs from under me.

Your pace increases, your cock swelling inside of me, and hitting the sweet spot at the base of my pussy that drives me wild. I clench around you as the orgasm takes hold of me. Unconsciously, you moan my name - an unanticipated sweetness; a glimpse behind the curtain of your feigned detachment. You freeze inside of me, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

We are still as your cum floods my pussy. As you pull out, you plant small kisses along my spine. I turn round, throw my arms around your neck. My smile is a blinding supernova. You pull the clamps from my nipples, kissing them to subside the pain as the blood rushes back into my bruised breasts.

“I think I should work remotely more often,” you muse, resuming your seat at your desk and pulling me onto your lap. You kiss my neck as you load your laptop and open a spreadsheet. I curl into you, perfectly content.