His Every Desire: The Billionaire's Assistant (Billionaire BDSM Domination Erotica) (2 page)

Hours after enjoying breakfast at
Taylor Greene's desk, I prepared to enter the room again. I wasn't
too worried. If the events of the past were any indication, it
would be a long time before Taylor came to the office. He was no
doubt off at an important meeting, buying, selling, wheeling,
dealing or making sweet love on a conference table somewhere. I
laughed to myself. From what I had heard, Taylor Greene was
probably not the lovemaking type. He wouldn't make love. He would
fuck, and he would fuck hard. He probably liked his sex the way he
liked his business deals; ruthless and powerful.

I waltzed into his office like I belonged there.
Instead of making a beeline to the desk that held my cellphone, I
walked around the circumference of the big room. I had never been
in the Oval Office, but I felt certain it was shabby compared to
this grand setting.

As I admired the juxtaposition of glass and mahogany,
I closed the blinds that ran along the glass wall separating
Taylor's office from his employees. No one would dare enter his
office uninvited, so the closed blinds would prevent busybodies
from watching me while I poked around.

With the blinds closed, I approached
the desk to fetch my cell and those important boring documents.
Something in the corner of the room caught my eye. I diverted my
attention to a large wooden wardrobe that stood by itself against
the place where the glass window met the mahogany paneled wall. It
was smooth and polished. I wondered if it was a huge humidor
stuffed with Cuban cigars or just a climate-controlled place where
Taylor Greene could store his spare $10,000 William Fioravanti
suits.

I ran my hand over the smooth, polished wood. Without
thinking, I placed my hand on the doorknob and pulled. It was
locked. I felt wildly disappointed that a door that I shouldn't be
opening in a room where I shouldn't be standing refused to open to
me.

I returned to the desk and began trying the drawers.
The first and second drawers were locked. The third slid open
beneath my hand. I was pleasantly surprised. Before my eyes even
had a chance to drink in the drawer's contents, I heard the
unmistakable sound of a hand turning the latch on the door. It
could only be Taylor.

There was no place to hide. I already knew the door
to the wardrobe was locked, and kneeling beneath the desk could
place me in a very compromising position if Taylor sat in his big
leather office chair. My eyes were still scanning the room, looking
for options, when he walked inside.

Taylor Greene was everything the office gossips
claimed and more. I had never gotten a close look at him before. He
was usually just a disembodied suit disappearing though an office
door. Today, he was entering through that same door, but I was on
the wrong side. The first thing he saw upon entry was my face. I
tried to look tough.

"And you are?" he asked curtly. His voice was steady
and calm.

"Hi," I nearly shouted. "My name is Sandra
McDermott." I emerged from behind his desk and stuck out my hand.
"I work for you."

Taylor didn't bother to shake my hand or even
acknowledge that I was waiting with my hand outstretched. He closed
the distance between us with long strides that matched his long
legs.

"People who work for me stay out of
my office," he said. I saw the exact moment he realized that I had
opened his desk drawer. It was the third one from the top. I hadn't
had a chance to close it.

"I was only here because I lost my cellphone, and
Harry Smith said he saw it on your desk. Then there were these
important papers, and they were on your desk, too," I tried to stop
babbling, but my tongue had its own ideas. Caffeine and panic
always make me talk too much.

"How do you suppose your cellphone landed on my
desk?" he asked. He didn't look amused. There was not a modicum of
mirth in his dark brown eyes. He slid the partially open drawer
back on its tracks. It clicked shut.

"Okay, I'm just going to level with you," I said. In
my mind, I was already packing my belongings from my desk into a
cardboard box. "I haven't been working here very long, but I
noticed that you don't use your office very often." I took a deep
breath. "Sometimes, when I'm bored, I let myself into your office
for just a little bit. I like to look out the window while I eat my
breakfast."

"If I understand you correctly, not
only do you find being my employee boring, but you sneak into my
office first thing in the morning to eat muffins and stare out the
window when you should be working?"

"I never said I ate muffins," I replied.

I was afraid to move. Beneath my short skirt, my
pussy was betraying me by tingling every time he opened his mouth.
His voice was thick like honey, and my pussy was definitely wet. I
wasn't sure whether my skirt had shifted to reveal that I wasn't
wearing any panties. I tried to figure it out without looking down
or checking with my hands.

The traitor skirt that I had chosen that morning had
a penchant for hitching up around my hips every time I bent down.
Usually, a quick tug was enough to bring it back into position.
When Taylor had entered the room, I had just stood up from opening
his desk drawer. I hadn't performed the obligatory tug on my skirt.
How high had it ridden on my hips? I had no idea.

I pressed my legs together and tried to determine
whether my pussy was exposed. Could I feel a draft down there? I
couldn't tell, but I pledged right then to make sure I had clean
panties from now on. Was he talking to me?

"What?" I asked. I felt so stupid.

"I said, 'Pull your skirt down. I can see your
pussy.'"

That certainly answered my question. I straightened
my skirt in a hurry.

"If that will be all, I'll go ahead and clear out my
desk now," I said. There were tears welling up in my eyes. Daddy
would be so disappointed when I told him I'd been fired. With a
last tug on my tight skirt, I minced toward the door.

"You don't have to clean out your desk."

"You're not going to fire me?" I asked hopefully.

"For what?" he asked. "For showing
me your pussy?" He grinned, and his entire face lit up.

"I like pussy," he murmured. "How
would you like an important new job, something a little less boring
than what you're currently doing? It's a position I need filled. In
exchange, I would be willing to forget how you invaded my privacy
and looked through my desk drawers."

"Does it pay more money?" I couldn't believe I had
the nerve to ask.

"That can be arranged," he said.

"I accept your offer," I said. "I think my luck is
finally beginning to change."

"Mine, too," he agreed. Before I
could take a breath, he was standing close to me. His hands were on
my shoulders. I braced myself for his kiss. My knees felt like they
had turned to mush, and my heart was pounding crazily.

Instead of kissing me, he dropped
his hands to my wrists and dragged me to the locked wardrobe in the
corner. Swiftly, he unlocked the door and pushed me inside. With a
deftness that took my breath away, Taylor fastened my hands to a
rack above my head. He stepped back to admire the
results.

I was standing with my hands above my head. The
position simultaneously caused my breasts to press against the thin
fabric of my blouse and dislodge my skirt so that I was certain the
lips of my pussy were exposed beneath the hem.

"This is just one of the many new positions that come
along with your new job," Taylor said. "You will obey my every
command and allow me to do whatever I want with your hot young
body. Do you understand me?"

I just nodded my head.

"I need to hear you say it." Taylor removed the
jacket of his expensive suit and placed it on a hanger. He
unbuttoned his shirt at the wrists and collar. "I need to hear you
say it," he repeated.

"Yes," I said.

"We need to get one thing out of the way first."

"What?" It was hard to talk. My mouth had gone
dry.

"How old are you, Sandra McDermott?"

"Twenty-two."

"That will do," he said.

Taylor unbuttoned the row of pearly white buttons
down the front of his designer shirt, exposing the most beautiful
torso I had ever seen. My panties would have been soaking wet if I
had been wearing any.

His strong hands removed the shirt from his sculpted
body. He looked like Michelangelo's statue of David in cashmere
pants. I didn't bother trying to hide my interest as he knelt at my
feet and spread my legs with his big hands.

"I have just one rule," he said. "No talking."

My skirt was not in the way as he parted my pussy
lips with his fingers and drove his tongue directly under the hood
of my clitoris. With exquisite skill, he found the place where the
most nerve endings joined to create the most sensitive place on my
body. I gasped and moaned. My hands were firmly attached to the bar
above me, and I was helpless against his warm wet mouth.

"Your pussy tastes so good," he murmured into my
thigh. His fingers shifted to probe my cunt. Two fingers, maybe
three, entered inside me. He fucked me with his fingers in time
with the firm, rhythmic pace of his tongue against my clitoris. I
knew I was going to cum, but I couldn't tell him. I wasn't allowed
to speak.

I groaned as his tongue and fingers coaxed an
unimaginably intense orgasm from my body. My wrists pulled and
strained against their restraints as my body convulsed. If I hadn't
been fastened in an upright position, I believe I would have
collapsed to the floor.

"Oh! My God!" The words escaped my lips without my
bidding. He instantly stopped moving his fingers and tongue inside
my pussy.

"I said, 'No talking,'" he
admonished. He stalked to the giant desk and opened a drawer. I
couldn't see from my vantage point, but I was willing to bet it was
the third drawer from the top. He retrieved a couple of objects
from the drawer and returned to the place where I was being held
captive with my body still twitching from my orgasm.

"Here," he said soothingly. "This will help." He
placed a hard rubber ball in my mouth, pushing it gently past my
teeth. He fastened the ball gag behind my head. I couldn't utter a
word of protest as he followed the gag with a soft silk blindfold
over my eyes.

I couldn't see the other objects he had retrieved
from the drawer, and I couldn't see what he was doing. I could tell
that he was unbuttoning my blouse now. His big hands were hot on my
shivering skin. He shoved my bra upward, letting my full breasts
spill out the bottoms of the lacy cups.

His hot breath caressed my nipples.
He sucked one of them into his mouth. I could feel the warm wetness
of his tongue, and I could sense his teeth. He was gently nipping
and biting at my breasts and nipples. It was exciting and
terrifying. My pussy was so wet that I could feel the moisture
creep along the insides of my thighs. I rocked forward on the balls
of my feet, pressing my nipple deeper into his mouth.

"I'm the one in charge here, not you" he ordered. His
lovely hot mouth left my breast. I heard an unfamiliar sound. It
was almost like the jingling of coins. Taylor pinched each one of
my nipples hard. When the pinching sensation didn't dissipate, I
realized that he had fastened nipple clamps to my soft flesh. I
couldn't protest from behind my ball gag, but I could feel a runner
of drool slide down my face. My saliva was leaking from my open
mouth.

Taylor put his hands on my waist and
twisted me so that I was facing in the opposite direction. At least
I think I was facing the opposite direction; I still couldn't see a
thing. He pushed my skirt up further toward my waist, and I
wondered if he was getting ready to fuck me from behind. Suddenly
and without warning, he began to paddle my ass with what I could
only presume was a wooden paddle.

I cried out against the gag in my mouth as the paddle
hit my firm ass. I had no doubt that Taylor's hard work was raising
the color red from my pale skin. As he continued to slap my ass
with the hard object, my bouncing breasts fought against the nipple
clamps. The exquisite combination of sensations was turning me on.
I felt like I was ready to explode.

The paddling stopped as suddenly as it began. I
almost missed it. I wiggled my ass and spread my legs, hoping it
would give Taylor an idea of what to do next. I wanted him inside
me so badly, and there was no way to let him know.

Just then, I heard a buzzing sound. It wasn't a
vibrator. It was the intercom. I heard a soft click as Taylor
pushed the button.

"Yes?" he said.

"Mr. Greene, I'm sorry to trouble you, but it seems
those important documents you signed never made it to their
destination." The voice from the intercom belonged to none other
than Harry Smith.

"I will take care of it, Harry. They are right here
on my desk," Taylor said.

"It's that new employee, Sandra McDermott. She
dropped the ball, and now I can't even find her. She hasn't been at
her desk in an hour."