The Businessman's Tie (The Power to Please, Book 1) (8 page)

He pulled my nipples out farther and farther, my breasts
stretching into conical shapes. He pinched until I was gasping. Then he let go
and my breasts snapped back into their normal shape, until he attacked again.

He pinched and squeezed my pussy lips, too, when he wasn’t
fucking me with his fingers. I writhed my ass around on the bench and couldn’t
have spread my legs wider had I tried.

His harsh breathing sounded in my ears, and blew hot and
humid on my shoulders and neck, where he nibbled and kissed me. His excitement
fueled my own.

All the while, Hoyte beat that poor woman’s breasts, slowly
and deliberately, not saying a word to her, no longer intermittently soothing
her burning flesh. He would strike. She would scream. Then maybe a ten count
would pass. Then another blow fell on her poor breasts. Tears drenched her
cheeks and dripped onto her red striped breasts.

Then came the final blow. It was beyond brutal.

Hoyte struck, aiming at the center of her breasts, cutting
across her areolae and nipples. The woman shrieked like never before. I moaned
for her.

Then Hoyte went into motion, unshackling the woman from the
rack. In a few quick movements he released the clips from her leather manacles.
She slumped in his arms, and he easily picked her up and carried her limp form
under one of his beefy arms.

Hoyte took her to a nearby table where she lay her on her
back, her legs draping over the side. She continued to keen, tears flowing, and
wrapped her arms around her chest, cradling her poor, red-striped breasts.

Hoyte unzipped his pants, and pulled out his cock, leaving
his pants buttoned at the top. He was uncircumcised and all-around large like
the rest of him. He barked at the woman to spread her legs, the first words
he’d said to her as long as I’d been watching. She obeyed and he grabbed her
hips and drove his dick into her with one mighty thrust.

I gasped for air while the woman cried out. Hoyte called his
wife over and told her to restrain the woman’s arms to the table legs. Elaine
scrambled to obey. The beaten woman didn’t resist, probably couldn’t resist, I thought.

Hoyte seized her poor swollen breasts with both of his meaty
paws, using them as something like purchase for his thrusting. His hands were
vises. He pumped into her and she cried out, in pain or in what may have been
the beginnings of pleasure. I couldn’t know which.

Michael sighed behind me, an odd sound at this moment.
“Hoyte never was a master of timing. Oh, she’ll come, but she would have come
harder if he had just waited a few minutes longer, just a few more strokes.”

He sighed again. “Oh well. So be it.”

He gave my nipples a hard pinch, and then he got up. The air
felt cold against my back when he left.

He stood in front of me and told me to look at him. His blue
eyes were lit with a cold flame. Whether his passion was for me, or for the
beaten woman, didn’t much matter. It was my turn, now, I knew it, and I was
beyond ready for him. He had brought me close to orgasm multiple times, then
backed away. So yes, beyond ready didn’t quite cover it. I was on the verge of
pleading for release.

He unzipped his jeans, and like Hoyte, pulled out his cock
without actually removing his pants. Michael’s dick was circumcised, and hard
and you could practically see the blood pulsing through the veins running just
under the smooth skin. I wanted to reach out and touch it.

He seemed to read my mind. “Don’t let go of the bar.”

I held on.

“Open wide,” he said, and he held his cock out, directing it
toward my mouth.

I opened and leaned forward. He guided his dick between my
lips. I sucked him in farther.

He tasted clean and musky, the same way he smelled. He
wrapped his hands around the back of my head, and it soon became clear that I
was not, technically speaking, giving him a blow job. It was more like he was
fucking my mouth.

He held my head firm and tight, while he pushed his dick
deeper into my mouth, eventually bumping up against the back of my throat. I
tried not to gag, and he pulled back. In a slow rhythm, he pushed himself back
inside me.

He told me when he wanted me to suck, and when to suck
harder, then softer. Sometimes he stopped and pulled out, then had me lick and
kiss the length of his cock. Then he pushed it past my lips again, and thrust
back inside me.

While Michael was fucking my mouth, the sounds of fucking
continued in the room beyond the glass wall. Hoyte’s baritone grunting and
harsh breathing, the woman’s higher-pitched moans and gasps of delight. More
than once I heard what could have only been the smack of a hand on flesh. Good
God, I thought, he still hasn’t had done with her. I couldn’t imagine how she
could bear it.

In our own room, Michael’s pace increased with the pace of
the grunting in the other room. He pumped into me more ferociously than ever,
his rapid breathing a quieter version of Hoyte’s.

Michael’s hands tightened around my head and his hips
bucked, and I felt a rising alarm when it seemed I couldn’t escape his thrusts
even if I tried my hardest. His dick kept pushing deeper into my mouth, coming
closer and closer to triggering my gag reflex.

He commanded that I suck harder, and so I did, and he pumped
into me, over and over. Then at last, the woman beyond the glass wall orgasmed;
the cries were unmistakable. Hoyte slapped and grunted, then he too cried out
his release.

And Michael shoved into my mouth, hard, hitting the back of
my throat, and I gagged violently, my body heaving. He pulled out, leaving me
choking and coughing and holding back vomit. Some saliva spilled out of the
sides of my mouth, dripped down to my breasts.

Michael rapidly stroked his dick up and down, his breath a
pulsing beat in the air. Faster he went, and faster, until at last, he came,
his climax marked by spurts of semen splatting on my breasts.

His eyes were hooded and half closed while he rubbed the tip
of his deflating penis over my semen- and saliva-covered breasts. He blended
the semen and saliva into a goo across my nipples and areolae.

The moans in the other room slowed and grew ever softer. I
finally controlled my gagging, and my panic.

Then Michael leaned down behind me and picked up the remote
control. With a few pushes, the sounds of breath and moans abruptly ceased, and
the big white curtain rolled closed. The world suddenly became a much smaller
place.

Michael tucked his cock back into his pants. He walked
behind me. I simply sat there, my heart still beating hard from the combination
of desire and panic. I waited, wondering what was coming next. In spite of what
he’d done, how he had scared me, I still wanted him.

“You can let go. Come here,” he said.

I gratefully released the accursed bar and wiped my sweaty
palms on my thighs.

Michael pulled a towel out of a drawer that was hidden in
the wall. He wetted it down with some bottled water he pulled from the
mini-bar. With a firm hand, he cleaned the mess off my breasts.

He wiped his hands on a clean corner of the towel, then
dropped it on the floor. He walked about picking up his clothes, sorting out
his shirt and pulling it over his head. He gathered my things together, too,
and brought them to me.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said. “It’s pretty wrinkled.
Guess we should have hung it up or something.” Then he grinned, showing he
wasn’t actually all that sorry.

I didn’t care about the stupid shirt. I had a larger issue
at hand. I stared, practically open-mouthed, at the clothes he held out to me.
Was I supposed to get dressed now? Was it over? Impossible. I was in need. It
wasn’t time to get dressed. What the hell?

Misreading my confusion, Michael said, “It’s okay. Go ahead.
Get dressed. We’re done.”

And I thought, “We’re done?”

Since I wasn’t taking the clothes, Michael shrugged and
dropped them onto the seat of the recliner. He strolled over to the mini bar,
where he rummaged around then pulled out a can of soda. He popped the top and
took a long, and apparently, satisfying drink.

It was the smug satisfaction on his face that finally helped
me find my voice.

What I said next sounded more a statement than a question.
“What the hell do you mean by that? We’re done? I’m not done.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean we’re done forever. I just
meant we’re done for the night.”

“But I’m not done. I feel ... I need ...” I didn’t want to
have to ask for it, but I decided it wouldn’t kill me to set my pride aside for
the moment, not if it got me what I wanted. And maybe he wanted me to ask for
it.

“I need you,” I told him. “Don’t leave me hanging.” There,
I’d said it.

Michael laughed. He laughed at me. Not a big laugh, but big
enough and long enough to tell me that leaving me hanging was exactly what he
planned to do.

I gaped at him. It’s not that I consider myself to be some
irresistible specimen of womanhood. Far from it, in fact. I have insecurities,
same as anyone else. But really, his response had gone too far. I knew the man
wanted me. For God’s sake. A moron would know he wanted me.

Finally after a few aborted sputters, I let my true feelings
be known. “Well, this is a big bunch of bullshit.”

He laughed again. An evil glint in his eyes told me he knew
I was frustrated and he didn’t care. “It’s not bullshit. It’s your punishment.
Don’t you remember? I think it happened when Hoyte laid his rod across that
woman’s breasts.”

He paused for a moment, watched my face. I had no idea what
he was talking about.

He clarified. “You let go of the bar.”

I said nothing. I remembered. That’s right. I had let go of
the bar. Only for a moment. It had been a natural response, my wanting to pull
away. It was nothing. An accident. I hadn’t thought of it again. Besides, later
I’d held onto that bar when I desperately wanted to let go. That should count
for something.

“I told you not to disobey me a third time,” he said. “I
warned you the repercussions would be severe.”

My desire for the man had been fading from the moment he
laughed at me, and now whatever remained of that desire was completely wiped
away, replaced with swelling anger.

My words were snappish, punctuated with reproach. “So, since
I let go of the bar for a few seconds, out of shock, I might add, not because I
was deliberately disobeying you, my punishment is that I don’t get fucked.”

“Well,” he said, “one could say that you did get fucked
tonight, just not the way you wanted. The actual punishment is that you don’t
get to orgasm. No coming for you.”

“And what’s to stop me from masturbating right now, until I
come?”

Without missing a beat he said, “I am.” And he said it so
softly and powerfully, that without a doubt, I knew he could and would stop me.

It was the change of tone in his voice that reminded me I
was standing there in front of him wearing only high heels and a pair of
panties. The realization only made me angrier.

I reached down and snatched up my clothes. In a rush, I
yanked on the rumpled items. I wanted out of that room and away from that man.
I was angrier than I’d been in a long time.

Michael leaned casually against the wall, looking again like
a bored playboy. He sipped his drink and watched me with that damnable smug
smile. He was between me and the door.

Where the hell was my purse? Oh, there it was, on the table
right in front of Michael. Of course it was.

I snatched it up and was sailing past him when he reached
out an arm and scooped me in next to him. I fought his grasp for only a moment.
There was no point fighting him. I gave up and stared at the door and seethed.

“Let me go,” I said.

“I will, in a moment. But first hear me out. Will you hear
me out?”

I didn’t want to, not really. I said yes, though, since to
do otherwise might have made me seem peevish. I’d be damned before I’d give him
an excuse to call me peevish.

“When you came in here,” he said, “you made an agreement
with me that you’d do what I asked of you. Whether accidentally or not, you
broke that agreement and you have to be punished for it. That’s just how it
is.”

He waited a few moments then continued, “Next time we meet,
you’ll be more careful, because you’ll remember this night and you’ll try
harder to obey me and to avoid any more accidents. In spite of your
disobedience, I was pleased with you tonight. I think anyone would have been.
So I have an offer for you.”

I looked up into his wolf eyes for the first time since he
grabbed me. “I’m not exactly feeling open to offers right now, especially not
from you.”

“That’s okay. Just hear me out. Some people would call it an
offer of training, but I don’t call it that. Training sounds formal and ropes
you in for the long haul. What I propose is that we commit to spending five
nights together, exploring your limits and finding out more of what you don’t
yet know about yourself.”

“Not a chance.”

“You’re angry. I’m okay with that. But think it over once
you’ve calmed down later tonight, or tomorrow. Whenever. Here’s my card.”

He let go of me, then pulled a white card from his shirt
pocket, opened my purse and dropped the card inside. “Call me if you decide to
accept my offer. Five nights of discovery ... and passion.”

“Unless I accidentally disobey,” I said.

He only smiled, then he opened the door for me and guided me
back down the hall. When we were in the main hall, he stopped outside a
different door, a ladies restroom, and told me he’d wait while I freshened
myself up. I told him not to bother, but after glancing at his face, I knew he
would wait, regardless of my wishes.

I marched into the bathroom and when the door swung closed
behind me, I took a long shaky breath. I didn’t know about freshening up, but I
damned well needed to get myself together.