Every man marks the milestones of his sexual life. The first kiss. The first time the fingers wander far enough to slide inside. The first blowjob. The first time having actual, penetrative sex. These are lines of demarcation that separate boys from men; the formative experiences that send their echo forward in life and serve as points of comparison for all future intimacy.
For Mark and many other men as well, these served as baselines to be improved upon. His first kiss had been sweet but fumbling, his first fingering little more than the impetus his younger self needed to buy himself a nail clipper. His first blowjob was his first encounter with being larger than most men - he looked back on that element fondly now, even if the blowjob itself had been awkward and toothy and he hadn't been able to cum without jerking himself off. (She had still swallowed his load, though, almost out of apology for not being able to handle his size - an act for which he remained grateful.)
Likewise, his first time having sex hadn't been worth the hype. Less than one minute of penetration that stopped not because anyone had cum too quickly… but because it was clear neither party was enjoying it. Combine that awkwardness with an extremely squeaky living room couch and two rattling end tables, and the act had been cut short by mutual agreement, with sheepish apologies on both sides.
Since those early days, Mark's maturity and the graduation to equally mature sexual partners had steadily improved things, such that nearly every year, he had a new 'favorite' sexual encounter to replace the previous champion. Sex really was like most other things - to improve, one only needed to practice.
This is all a preamble to saying that, on the morning after his sexual encounter with Erin, his smoking hot boss and secret submissive, Mark found that records were still being broken. He wasn't quite sure when they drifted off to sleep in the hotel room. They'd had sex for nearly two hours in a variety of positions, taking breaks to bask in afterglow when needed. They would fuck, then lay down on the bed next to each other, worldlessly staring, touching each other not quite tenderly but reassuringly, with 'I'm still interested' squeezes and interactions every few minutes. And then, after enough time had passed since the last orgasm, one of them would make a more over move - Erin's hand wrapping around his cock, of kneading his heavy scrotum, for example - and fucking would begin anew.
Eventually, she folded her body into his and they dozed. She didn't repeat the deep kiss that had surprised him so much - that only happened once - but there were many other signals between them that showed their level of comfort with what was happening, one of which was sleeping together like spoons under the sweaty covers. Her body was giving, and soft, and warm, and when she took his arm and wrapped it around her waist, he completed it by turning onto his hip and pulling her close. They spoke little. Questions about their sexual encounter and the effect it might have on them as boss and employee were simply deposited in a can and kicked far, far down the road.
Indeed, Mark thought about it little. He allowed himself not to think about it and simply enjoy the moment. He did not know if he would wake to an empty hotel room, or to find Erin grimly dressing, and with the instruction: "You better get out of there - and leave like ten minutes before I do, so nobody sees us together." Neither would have surprised him… though he thought the most likely scenario would be a bit of semi-awkward conversation about how to proceed, and the mutual understanding that the way they interacted at the office would not change.
Little did Mark know that he would wake up to the greatest blowjob of his life.
Morning head. The holy grail for any man who hopes an attractive woman might still have use for him after he's humped her brains out the previous evening. That gesture of acceptance and perhaps even thanks that says wordlessly: "I don't regret last night." At first, Mark didn't realize what was going on as he came awake by degrees and felt a pleasurable pressure coming from below the belt; though it wasn't his custom he had slept in the nude. His eyes opened slowly and he could tell immediately from the quality of the light in the room it was morning. More importantly, he saw an expanse of pale flesh and a great swathe of auburn hair, and the memory of the previous night's encounter rushed back to him in all its glorious detail - the hot tongue exploring his mouth in unexpected but unwelcome intimacy, the feeling of those enormous, freckle-dusted breasts in his hands, the raised nipples with their fat pores rubbing his palms. The sight of Erin's unparalleled body in front of him on all fours, begging and ready, the weight of one of her big, round buttocks as he gripped it, opening it, revealing the slick crescent within. He could almost feel the buoyant quality of her flesh as the memory washed over him in all lucidity.
And now, something else. His vision sharpened and he saw an image to match the feeling on his erect penis - Erin, sucking his long cockshaft with an expression that was equal parts dutiful care and lust, her body pressing down on his upper thighs and unfolding behind her. He was partially sprawled over him; her breasts bulged against him deliciously, her flesh dovetailing with his own. He could feel the heat and weight of tits, how big they were.
The way her freckle-bedazzled upper chest turned into a swan-like neck and pretty face was intoxicating, her skin was absolutely flawless, unless one considered freckles a flaw, which he most certainly did not. Again he was struck by the aesthetic contrast of his dark skin and her pale skin; there was beauty in it that transcended the tawdriness of racial novelty. Her lips were full and her blowjob had shaped them into a lewd tube shape around his meat, and as she lifted and lowered her head, not looking at him but rather at the task at hand, the dark-skinned part of the equation would diminish until it nearly disappeared into her mouth and he could feel the breath from her nostrils on his pubis. Then, after a moment of tongue action, she would lift and it would gradually reappear, inch after inch, until almost the entire thing was revealed, throbbing tip and all.
The sound that came with it made it even better. Breathy, cute, and dutiful - as if the act was both a pleasure and a struggle. His size being what it was, it was hypnotic to watch her make his entire shaft disappear into her throat, again and again, accompanied at the culmination by a soft but audible glrk noise. The pressure on his cock was greater during this noise, as his cocktip and the final few inches of his length pushed into her throat, experiencing the pressure there. Looking down the muscled length of his own body and closely examining Erin, Mark saw that the glrk noise was accompanied by an actual bulge in her throat… and the sight of it appearing and retreating was arousing in the extreme.
He allowed himself to simply close his eyes and enjoy that unspeakable, milking pressure as the noises came softly. Glrk. Glrk. Glrk. Glrk. Glrk. Glrk. Erin was giving him serious throat, and her submissiveness combined with the rhythmic sucking was enough to drive him wild. After another minute, a change in the sensation caused him to open his eyes again. She'd allowed his shaft to pop out of her mouth and, trailing her tongue down the length, started to kiss and suck his balls. As she did so, Mark's jutting erection was framed to the side of her face, and one could see just how gifted he was. The size difference was positively pornographic.
She looked up from her ball-worship and their eyes met for the first time since the prior night. Hers were the same bottomless light blue.
"Good morning, sir," she said, and her half-whisper was slightly thick with the recent presence of his cock in her mouth. Some of her hair fell over her eyes and she threw her head back and used one hand to brush it away. Her warm, bulging breasts slid against his thighs, and as he propped himself up with his elbows, he could see her shapely shoulders and collarbone, and the way her back trailed down to those adorable twin dimples that preceded the voluptuous explosion of her hips and buttocks. She shifted one leg and he could see the wobble of all that ass .
"Good morning," Mark said. He realized she had called him 'Sir'; that meant the game had not been limited to the prior evening, so to speak, but was still going . A quick glance at the clock told him that it was nearly 8 AM. Even if they both stopped right that moment, the commute back to each of their houses, the shower, the change of clothes, and the commute to the office would barely be doable in time. And Erin was showing no indication that she was in a hurry.
"Did I do something wrong, sir?" she asked. He tried to read her face and saw only honest concern, as if the part of Erin that fueled her 'bitch on wheels boss' persona was somehow dormant.
"No," Mark replied. "You're doing a good job." He saw her blush and smile a bit, and then he added. "Don't stop."
Erin extended her long, wet tongue and and trailed it back up his shaft, and then slid her mouth back onto his cock, this time with occasional eye contact as she sucked him. The glottal sounds returned and punctuated each time she nearly swallowed his entire length. Occasionally her hair would fall down over her face and she would push it away like a porn star to make sure he could see clearly.
"Oh, fuck," Mark breathed. She was picking up a bit of speed. Sometimes she would stuff the tip of his cock into the hollow of her cheek, making it bulge out as she moaned with pleasure. Drool slid down his pipe in foamy rivulets before she stuffed the whole length into her mouth again. "That's good," he told her. "That's… really good." It was instinctive to reach his right hand down and take a fistful of that coppery, perfumed hair, using it to control her head slightly, to guide her more forcefully on her intended path up and down his penis. A hot breath slid from her mouth and all over his cock as soon as she felt his touch.
She met his gaze and leaned her head into his palm. She said nothing, but her body language and those blazing indigo eyes told Mark all he needed to know. Look at what I'm willing to do for you, Sir , her expression seemed to say. I'll do whatever you want.
The pace was increasing, and as such, any dignity in the act was dissipating, replaced by an easter sloppiness that was even hotter. The sounds from Erin's mouth and throat were louder, and as Mark put more pressure on the back of her head and even started to tense his hips a little, her eager responses seemed to cry out not for him to slow down, but to speed up.
"That's it," he seethed. "That's it… who owns your throat?"
No answer - except that her eagerly shoving her mouth down on his cock constituted, really, the only answer that mattered. He kept watching the way her slender throat bulged with the shape of his cocktip each time it went as deep as it could; the lewd visual never got any less appealing. When she would go really deep, taking him to the balls, her head would be forced to look straight down, and all that gorgeous auburn hair would fall forward and drag across his pubis. It was the perfect sexual storm, the best feeling in the world. Erin's round, thick ass in the background, her massive, warm tits mounded on his thighs, her alabaster complexion in a sexual yin-yang with his melanated one. Not to mention the obedient, servile way she was tending to him, in steep contrast to her demanding attitude at the office.
No man could have lasted long under such conditions, and Mark was no exception. He could feel his orgasm rising like an approaching freight train, and he let it come. Erin had picked up speed, steadily, and the noises coming from her throat were louder and more urgent. "Fuck," Mark gasped, through clenched teeth. "Fuck, fuck…"
Her reaction to this universal warning noise sent him over the edge. She buried his big, ebony cock in her throat as deep as she could, her puffy lips making a suckface around his dick that pressed into his base. Her tongue slid out to slide into the furrow of his balls. The faster, rougher sucking had made her mouth fill with saliva, providing amazing lubrication. Wetness from her throat leaked onto his balls in a hot stream.
Spurred on, Mark turned his loose, guiding palm into a fist and held her in place. It was like something out of a porno movie - his smoking hot, bitch-on-wheels boss was about to take his whole load! His balls tightened and semen shot out of his penis so forcefully and suddenly that he actually felt his urethra burn from the volume of it. "Nnnnngh!" she grunted, adding to the lewd sensation of emptying himself, of depositing himself into the new and unexpected pet that had crawled to his dick like a hungry kitten and started sucking before he was even awake. Hard as he'd cum the prior evening, he felt like he was cumming even harder now.
And Erin was loving it. Her hands scrambled upward and clutched at his midsection and hips as he busted straight into her throat, attaching to him desperately and then holding them both in place as his body performed all of the standard coital hitches - muscles clenching, hips bucking upward slightly, hot bursts of breath sliding from his mouth with each thick rope of sperm. And each time he erupted into her throat, that graceful, swanlike neck now distended by the presence of his cock, Erin made a desperate, cum-thirsty noise of pleasure, as if swallowing his thick sperm was her greatest joy in life.
Not wanting to disappoint her, Mark managed to dump ten thick ropes of semen into her gurgling, flexing throat. Of course he couldn't hear himself spurting - but the gurgling, swallowing noises she made with each burst let him imagine he could. When it was done, his sensitive prick was throbbing, and he took hold of Erin's hair and lifted face off of his dick with the suddenness of removing a bandaid, both of them instantly breathing hard in a sort of 'did that really just happen?' afterglow.
The first time she opened her mouth to breath, a thick bubble of cum formed between her lips, popped, and started to slide down her chin. She was red-faced from lack of oxygen. As Mark watched, she ran her agile, pink tongue around her mouth and licked up his sperm, pulling it inside… and swallowing again, making sure he could see that she had really swallowed every drop.
Mark felt both intensely satisfied… and slightly ambushed. Morning head from Erin had been one of the hottest experiences of his life… but his mind was scrambling. He had been sound asleep five minutes before, and had expected a quick discussion about how to proceed, and a farewell. Not mind-blowing oral sex. Not to mention, technically, his time as a 'dom for hire' had expired the previous night.
Erin rose up to her knees and brushed her hair from her face again. She was wearing nothing but a pair of black panties that showed her pubic mound and the outline of her slit. The waistband was digging into her hips, they were so wide and her ass was so big.
I should ask what she wants to do.
I should remind her that we need to get to the office.
I should tell her that this was a really fun time… and I'd like to do it again, if she wants.
I should reassure her that what happened in the hotel room will never affect work.
Mark considered all these things, and part of him wanted to do them. There was something insubstantial about the way they were interacting, like the illusion of his control and her submission could shatter at any moment. He wanted to put it away in a box, inside a boundary, to keep it safe. They could, he reasoned, unlock that box again if they wanted to.
But, Mark also had a sense that Erin didn't want him to. Not yet. She had given no indication that she wanted to return to her 'real life' role as his boss, and chief executive of the Sunflower Realty brokerage, which had offices in four cities. She was looking at him, nibbling her bottom lip, her eyes slightly red and wet from choking on his cock. She smiled shyly, and her hand slid down to her flawless, porcelain-pale belly suggestively, as if to say: Your cum is in here. I have a huge load in my stomach thanks to you. And I love it.
Mark said nothing. He wasn't sure how to proceed, but he knew his cock was going to get hard again pretty fast if Erin kept lounging around naked on the bed with her huge, freckled tits and mega-ass on display. Luckily, she broke the silence.
"May I take a shower, sir?"
Mark kept his expression neutral. May I take a shower, sir . Not "I'm going to take a shower." Not "that was fun, but I guess we better go home and get changed."
The game wasn't over, it was still going, deep into overtime. And he was on the clock. Mark said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Do you think you deserve one?"
Instantly she blushed and dropped her eyes, tightening up her thighs and placing her hands on them. When she spoke, it was quieter than before: "How may I earn a shower, sir?"
Mark, now more awake, forced himself back into a dominant mode. If she wanted to keep playing the game, he would play it as best he could. "Kiss my cock. Thank it for fucking you," he told her. "Show me your true appreciation." Was it too much? Too fetishistic for 8:30 in the fucking morning?
No. Erin didn't even hesitate. She leaned down (watching her breasts hang down all the way to the bedsheets and pile up on them like huge water-filled balloons was an amazing sight to behind) and took hold of his softening cock, which was still big, black and beautiful even when not at full mast, and planted a wet, passionate kiss on his apple-sized cockhead.
"Thank you," she moaned, then extended her tongue and licked around under his glans before poking the tip into his pisshole, wiggling it around and pulling back with a strand of semen attached. "Thank you for feeding me such a thick load. It's going to be in my stomach all day."
Mark's cock twitched at the sucking, slurping kiss she placed directly on his pisshole, as well as the unspoken implication that she would be carrying his semen with her a good long while… even at the office. She rose up, the semen strand broke and she swallowed it, still keeping her eyes down.
"Go," he told her, firmly. "Take your shower."
"Thank you, sir." Erin slid off of the bed and stopped to pull her panties off over one leg, tossing them onto the corner of the bedspread. As she moved toward the large bathroom in the suit, which contained a glass-doored shower with all manner of fancy amenities including a black marble shower bench and sterling silver taps, Mark was once again struck by what a crazy stack of tits and ass Erin was. Her butt bounced with every step of her tiny feet on the carpet, and her breasts were so huge, he could literally see nearly half of them even though she was walking directly away from him. It was hot as hell… but he also respected her hustle a little more as he watched her turn, open the door and enter the bathroom.
It must have been hell, he realized, to get men to take her seriously in the world of real estate. The stuff she must have had to put up with. He'd heard she started out as a broker, and worked her way up to an executive position in the company in less than ten years. Now, anyone who made a comment about her ass or tits was unceremoniously sanctioned, reassigned and buried.
And now I get to clap her cheeks , Mark thought. Crazy world .
Erin had left the door to the bathroom open. Mark could hear the sound of the tabs being turned and the rushing water as she began her shower. Sliding off of the bed and stepping into his boxers, he saw steam catch the light from the morning sun as it drifted out of the door. Needing suddenly to piss (as with most mornings), Mark half-wished he'd taken the bathroom first. Certainly, he could have demanded it and she wouldn't have complained.
He approached the door, not able to resist taking a peek. The open door had been yet another signal of her availability to him. It was his luxury to be able to lean against the door frame and look in, the king of this castle for the moment, and observe Erin in motion. As she, no doubt, wanted him to.
Even so, what Mark saw took his breath away and made his cock jump all over again. Erin was turned directly away from him, standing in the large shower, holding one of the shining attachments with its silver cable trailing back up to the wall. The shower really was huge - obviously meant to accommodate two people if necessary. No doubt, it had been used by many couples in the afterglow of a sexual rendezvous. The glass door was open - hence the amount of steam drifting out already - and so no condensation could get in the way of Mark seeing what he was seeing… Erin soaping up her fat tits and thick ass!
Because she was holding the shower attachment, she had only one hand to do it with… and it was likely watching a woman who had dropped a basket of oranges, trying to collect them all with one arm. There was simply too much flesh for her dainty wrist and digits to cover. She smeared her huge breasts around her chest, and the bulbous, spherical, soap-sudded boobs were sliding everywhere as she tried to wash every nook and cranny. Over her wrist, under her wrist, bulging to the side, pressing toward the center. Mark could sense this happening even from his rear vantage.
And when she reached behind herself to lather up her rear? It was a thing of beauty. It actually seemed to take Erin real effort to lift one half of her monster ass and apply a layer of bubbly soap to the pale, flawless flesh - as she was doing it, she exposed the hot furrow of her asscrack, through which a stream of water was running from her pink, inviting anus to the crescent of her fat pussy, her thick labia stretching open as she soaped up first one cheek, then the other.
She looked back over her shoulder and their eyes met. For a moment, she was still, and there was no movement but the water on her glistening, pale body. Then, she nibbled her bottom lip cutely and arched her back, accentuating the explosive curve of her hips and the roundness of her ass, while also letting her huge, soaped-up tits hang down. She slid one arm behind herself again and pulled one thick, heavy ass-cheek to the side, not glancing away for even a second.
Opening herself for business. Presenting her holes to him. Wet hair clung to her back in jagged tendrils as she gave her unspoken invitation to fuck.
Something was galvanized inside Mark. In his mind's eye, he saw himself driving down a winding desert road with Erin, canyon walls on either side, with warning signs every fifty feet about falling rocks, and danger. The rev of the engine screaming, Erin leaning over to jerk his cock as he drove, faster and faster, propelling them both toward a cliff, Thelma and Louise style.
Don't slow down , she said to him. Keep going . There was an intoxicating social danger intermingled with their actions now, and far from worrying about it, she seemed to be pushing it. Part of him felt exhilarated and glad to be having such a crazy sexual experience - a certified all-timer that he would remember forever. But another part of him realized that Erin was pushing him toward that precipice.
She was his boss… and now, supposedly, his submissive. Who, indeed, was in charge of who?
He stepped out of his boxers. His legs began to scissor forward in an aggressive walk, closing the distance between them in seconds. Her eyes went wider, seeing him approach with such aggression, and he entered the large shower stall, feeling the sauna-like heat and steam. She turned. He grabbed her wrist.
"You think you can tease me?" he growled. "Huh? You think you can play games?" He pulled her close and her tits bulged against his chest with wet, soft heat.
"N-no, sir!" He searched her eyes and saw the blushing, needy lie. Not knowing if he was going too far, only knowing that he didn't like to be manipulated, Mark slid his hand up to her wet hair and gripped it, bending her over so her palms were flat on the shower bench and her thick ass was protruding behind her.
He took aim. WHAP!
Water flew off of her jiggling, glistening cheek like blood splatter in a samurai film.
"Ah! Fuck-" she choked out.
WHAP! There are some things of such aesthetic and tactile perfection that they almost defy description - and the look and feel of spanking Erin's huge ass and watching that bubble of flesh recoil and bounce back into position? It was one of those things. The sound was loud, and each time his hand came down, she moaned with pleasure. Her ass, perfect and pale and thick, was already turning a beautiful red.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
She was squealing, but not resisting - she was letting him do as he wanted. They were still traveling down that dangerous road together, but Mark felt he now had at least one hand on the wheel. He gave her ten hard sparks on her right ass cheek, bring right-handed, and then took a handful of her flesh. The lather made her thickness pour through his fingers and slide under his palm.
"Who owns this ass?" Mark seethed.
"You do!" she instantly replied.
"Who?"
"You do, sir!"
He spread her and pressed his long, hard black penis against her pussy, inserting it in one rough motion. He needn't have worried about Wrin's insides being as lubricated as her soap-slathered outsides - she was absolutely soaked and he could feel her pussy spasming and gripping his cock even as he inserted it. She moaned out as he took hold of her hips and began to fuck her for the first time that morning, banging his pelvis against her bouncing, clapping ass as he penetrated her in long strokes, occasionally adding another spanking.
"You don't play games with me," Mark told her. "I'll fuck you when I want to fuck you." He realized his frustration with her was real.
"Yes sir! I'm sorry, sir!" she moaned, and then cried out in pleasure as his cock angled and pressed against her deepest erogenous zones. "Please… punish me for… being such a slut!"
He slapped her ass again and began to fuck her faster. His body was partly in the shower stream - Erin had mounted the shower attachment in an eye-level cradle on the wall before spreading herself for him - and the movement of his hips caused the raining water to splatter. His buttocks, chiseled from jogging and gym, clenched powerfully as he began to glide his wet, glistening cockpipe out of her pussy. Her petite bombshell body was taking every inch, her small hands were clutching at the marble bench. Her breasts were pancaked against it, the bottoms squished flat.
Looking down and seeing himself framed above his own abdominals, a black battering ram sliding in and out, dragging an inch of the hot, pink, clinging membrane of her pussy walls out with him, a mist of water spraying up into the steamy glass enclosure each time his pubis banged against her ass with a loud WHOP , Mark knew he wouldn't last long, and neither would she. She was already as hot as a firecracker and the foreplay of sucking his cock hadn't yet died down. As for him, despite busting a nut fewer than ten minutes ago, his cock was a glistening pillar of ebony. Disciplining Erin, spanking her ass, and manhandling her had him ready to blow again.
"Fuck," he breathed, choking the words off as his breath grew more ragged, picking up speed. "Who fucking owns your ass and pussy?" His voice louder now, overcoming the sound of the water.
"You-u-u-u! D-o-o-o-o!" Erin cried out. A reply extended and chopped up by the impact of his cock, deep in her pussy, one syllable per slapping, cheek-clapping stroke. Then one stroke turned into a bury-and-hold, not withdrawing but sinking as deep as he could go, pressing her face and cheek against the marble with his forearm, as hard as he could and be safe, putting his weight on her, squashing her upper body down into the bench while they came together once again.
So that was how it was with them as Mark came inside Erin for the third or fourth time since the prior evening. For about thirty seconds, they were a hitching, gasping conjoinment of two very different shades of flesh. And when it was over, he pulled out and banged his long, heavy dick on her cheeks of her ass a few times, adding a final spanking, before sitting down on the bench next to her to catch his breath.
She slowly turned over and leaned against his arm, her wet hair tickling his shoulder. They were both out of the shower stream now, just sitting in the steam, the droplets on their skin growing slowly colder as their breathing slowed; two beautiful people in afterglow.
"Thank you for using my pussy, sir," Erin whispered, her breath dusting his shoulder as she lay her chin on it.
Mark didn't want to hear her, didn't want to talk to her. Not then. The job wasn't done, his point wasn't made. As a man he might have a problem cumming again just one minute later, but he knew that Erin would have no such problem. He did not answer with words, but with his hands. One in her hair, one reaching down to her crotch, spreading his legs, and sliding two powerful fingers into her wet, slippery cunt. She was so warm and so ready . Her face twisted with surprise for a moment… but when he slid his middle and index fingers inside and angled them up, searching for the textured thickening of flesh up top that he knew coincided with her G-spot. As he began to apply pressure in a circular motion, and rub her clit with his thumb, her face instantly changed to one of overwhelmed pleasure. She was ready to pop again, in the same way a car, thoroughly warmed up, would start without trouble on a cold winter morning.
He saw her taut belly flex and saw the hint of her own abdominal definition beneath that pale, smooth skin. His finger fucking shortly turned into finger banging , and sound of slick, lewd wetness accompanied his frenzied movements, the oscillations of a biological machine revving up and working very hard.
"Ah!" Erin gasped, her eyes widened. "Ahhhhh!" Her expression was half pleasure and half surprise, as if she didn't expect to get fucked again so soon.
"Listen," Mark growled as he fingered her and her wetness was splattering all over his hand and wrist. "Are you listening, slut?"
"Yes!" Desperate. Overwhelmed.
"You don't tell me when to fuck you. You don't tell me when to punish you. You don't tell me anything." He gritted his teeth and seethed the final word into her ear. " Ever. "
"Yes sir!"
"I'll fuck you if I want. I'll tell you to go kneel quietly in a corner and stare at the wall if I want. I'll leave you here to finger yourself if I want. You are not in control here, Eevie ."
"Ouuuuagaggh!" Erin's groaning gasp tumbled loosely out of her mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head and Mark felt her pussy absolutely try to clamp down on his fingers. At the same time, her pelvis rose up and she posted on the bench, ankles and elbows lifting, legs spread wide, pussy popping upward. As before he pulled his fingers from her pussy just as she was climaxing, and watched as, amazingly, a finger-thick eruption of squirt sprayed from her crotch and actually arced across the entire shower enclosure, splattering against the glass.
Then another. Then another.
"Ahh… oughh…" she said. The squirting faded to a smaller, glistening arc… and Mark realized that his sharp-tongued, bitch-on-wheels boss was pissing helplessly, right in front of him, her blue eyes looking fatigued and overwhelmed as they watched her own stream. "I'm… s-sorry, s-sir!"
Mark was taken slightly aback at first. This wasn't something he was used to dealing with… and if it had happened while they were in bed, he might have felt a bit embarrassed. But they were in the shower, and truth be told, he was a 'pee-in-the-shower' enjoyer from a long line of them. He reached out to place a hand on Erin's belly, pressing down on it slightly, and she cried out again… but there was no denying that she enjoyed what he was doing, either because she liked the feeling, or enjoyed being made to do it. Her piss stream grew in strength, and they watched it together, her astonished face and his stern one, until her bladder empty.
There was a certain intimacy in the act itself, but that wasn't all. Mark had to admit it pleased him to see Erin, who was always yelling at the office staff for being unclearly and leaving garbage in the break room, piss herself like some sort of helpless little spraying insect. From that moment on, when she would call team-wide meetings and complain and berate the staff, he'd think about this moment, when she got finger-blasted and loved it so much that she sprayed everywhere .
It also pleased him to feel in charge of the situation again. Something had changed in Erin. She was not coquettishly posing and spreading her ass, leading him on. No, clinging to his arm in the aftermath of pissing out of her puffy, spread-open slit, she was submissive as a kitten.
Mark took hold of Erin's hair and pulled her head back, looking down into her face. Her water-dappled skin made her freckles stand out even more. In that moment, he felt a strange sort of freedom come over him. Erin was obviously in no rush to get to the office. In fact, she appeared to be up for absolutely anything. He still didn't like the uncertainty that came from being AWOL from work with his boss… but he was smart enough to realize that worrying too much would only add stress to what should be a once-in-a-lifetime sexual experience.
No, he would go in after lunch. He wouldn't sweat it. Instead…
"I'm taking a shower," he told her. "And you're going to help."
"Yes sir." She nuzzled her wet face against his shoulder and he felt strands of her hair, beginning to chill from being out of the shower spray, pressing against his skin.
What followed was better than anything Mark could have imagined. As submissive acts go, cleaning another human being is among the most ceremonial, the most symbolic. So there was something special about the way that, as he stood, took the shower attachment and angled it toward himself, Erin dutifully took part. They spoke little and luxuriated together in the hot water and steam. The shower enclosure was large, big enough to move around in, and there was plenty of soap and washcloths in alcoves that were carved into the tile of the back wall. Erin lathered him dutifully, almost ritualistically. Mark was thankful for every day he pushed himself hard at the gym; he became aware of every part of his body as she moved her hands over it.
Shoulders first, then his pectoral muscles, then his hips and abdomen. The furrows and gulleys between each ebony muscle coursed with white, foamy soap. But Erin didn't scrub him with the washcloth. No, it was her huge tits that got used for that task, without him even commanding it. There was a knowing look between them as she pressed against him; and in that moment Mark knew she wanted it and knew that he wanted it. There really was no feeling quite like it. Her breasts were large enough that she really could move them somewhat independently of her petite body; it was like being caress by two big, warm, squishy water bottles. And where her nipples scraped against his skin, he could feel the textured, oddly large bumps of her pores and the soft hill-shape of her large nipples… but not their points, which did not protrude because of that gorgeous inverted shape.
Erin used herself as a scrubbing brush while making smoldering, submissive eye contact. Occasionally she bit her lip or reacted to his stern expression. She even wrapped her breasts around his biceps and wrists to wash those - moving them up and down, pressing them together around him. Mark felt his cock throbbing, half-hard… it was impossible not to get a hardon, feeling those tits squishing against him.
"That's good," Mark told her. "Keep going."
"I want to be a good slave for you, sir," she breathed. "I'll clean you anytime you ask."
Still in it, then. No sign of the demanding and unreasonable boss.
"Yeah? You love being told what to do, don't you?"
She bit her lip, blushed, and nodded.
"Do my back." He turned, angled the showerhead up, and started to let it splash down on his face, neck and chest. Erin's breasts immediately pressed against his back and her tiny arms slid around to clutch her palms to his chest. He felt her body start to rub against his, lubricated by soap and filled with unspeakable, sexual buoyancy that seemed exclusive to really large, natural breasts.
Mark imagined that this is the way movie stars and moguls must wake up and start their day - in a well-appointed shower, with a pair of huge breasts rubbing against them. Huge breasts attached to a bombshell-gorgeous woman who would obey their every command. Not for the first time in that 24-hour period, he felt unspeakably lucky. The two minutes of back-washing was absolute heaven. Erin's hands were small but insistent, and the cleaning turned into more of an affectionate massage that both soothed his aching muscles.... and seemed to sneakily be priming them for more fucking. The intimacy only grew when he started to feel her tits rubbing his lower back, and then his buttocks, a sensation that made his pulse quicken and his mind race a little.
Needless to say, even with the smattering of post-coital tandem showers he'd had in his bachelor and dom-for-hire life, the task of washing his ass was one Mark usually undertook himself. Not that he wasn't clean and well-groomed in the area - he was. But the level of intimacy required to make it a joint activity was considerable… and much as Erin had shown of her 'secret side' so far, it was still difficult to imagine her straight-laced and no-nonsense businesswoman demeanor would jibe with letting the freak flag fly that high.
Probably not , he reasoned. Probably just going to give the simple once-over .
That was what he thought before he sensed her kneel… and felt her lips kissing him reverently on one asscheek. He swiveled his neck and looked down at her. She was kissing one of his well-toned buttocks, rubbing her lips against it, running her tongue along the firm muscle there, as if she knew that part of his body - the product of deadlifts, squats and leg presses at the gym - was what had supplied the necessary thrusting energy to blow her back out.
She looked up and they locked eyes for a moment. She reached between his legs and rubbed her soapy hands over his hanging shaft and balls, letting his maleness fill her palm and dangle over her wrist. Mark waited to see what she would do. Was it a tease? Or something more? He didn't have to wait long. Seconds later, Erin's tongue began to make its way to where, as his mother would say, the 'good lord had split him'. He felt a surge of embarrassed excitement.
He dropped his hand. Found her hair. Controlled her head.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" he breathed, as the shower misted down on both of them. His hand was firm.
"I'm sorry, sir!"
"Did I ask you to do that?"
"No, sir! I thought-"
He gave her a cupping, limp-fingered brush on the jawline and chin. Not a slap, but enough to interrupt her.
"Did I say you could think?"
"No, sir!" Her voice was rising in intensity.
"Don't you ever stop trying to fuck, you slut?" he scolded her. The question might as well have been hey, do you ever want to actually leave this hotel and get back to our normal lives? By the way, I'm paid by the hour and I don't see you opening your purse.
She had no answer to his loaded question. He pawed her face again and she made a mewling noise in spite of herself - she loved his (so far) playful jostles to her face.
"You ask permission," Mark growled, tightening his grip on her hair, and feeling a burst of inspiration. "I don't care if you're used to ordering everyone around. When you're in a room with me, you ask permission."
"Yes sir! I'm sorry, sir!" she cried desperately. He gave her a brush to the jaw again, this time it was almost sharp enough to make a noise. She moaned. Tapping into some of his real life frustrations with her management style was a risky bit of cross-pollination, but it felt right… and more importantly, was immensely satisfying. In a way, Erin's behavior wasn't that different from how she acted at the office. She tended to behave as if her time was more important than anyone else's, and would sometimes take action without informing anyone if it meant getting what she wanted more quickly. At the office, any objections to this would have resulted in a tongue-lashing.
Now… he had the chance to subject himself to a tongue-lashing of an entirely different and more pleasurable kind.
"Ask my permission," Mark ordered. His eyes were steely. "The way you should have."
Erin swallowed thickly. "May I clean you, sir?"
A tighter grip. A pull on her head. "You call that asking permission? You can do better than that."
Erin's face grew desperate. "May I… may I clean your body with my tongue?"
Mark felt a surge of power and rolled with it. "Hands and knees. Face down. Ass up. I want to see your tits on the floor." She whimpered… and obeyed. He watched her assume the position, as she had early on in their visit the previous day - a worshipful pose of pure submission. And yes, it was glorious to watch her huge breasts bulged against the shower tile and her thick, bubbly ass form a water-dappled heart shape.
He kept pushing. In the same way he would tell her that a task could be completed by 3 PM and she would insist on having it be done by lunch instead. The same way she made his job harder with glee that seemed borderline, when her Type A personality would show up to wreak havoc on the entire IT department.
"Kiss my feet," he ordered her. "And beg me."
She did, crawling forward to lick the top of his foot, pressed her lips against it desperately as she whimpered out need declarations: "Please sir… let me clean you… let me take care of you!"
"Say it. Tell me exactly what you want to do. I want to hear you say it." And, he didn't add, I want you to hear yourself say it .
Eye contact again. Erin was crawling on the floor like a dog, huge tits and bulbous act making her look like a crude joke by an adult cartoonist. Her face was blushing and desperate. But the eyes were the most striking part. Blazing. Hungry. The blue of water in a travel brochure from some Caribbean beach.
"Please… sir… may I lick your ass?" she begged. And she must have seen in his face that he liked it and wanted to hear more, because she went on. "Please let me clean your ass, and your balls, and your dick, and suck you from the back-"
Seeing her lose control and grow more and more vulgar in her words was just as sexy as the content of the message itself. And she wasn't the only one who could barely contain themselves. Mark was ready to let her do what she wanted to do. He removed himself from the shower stream (it was too hot to be comfortable when pulses were racing) and moved to stand facing the glass-paneled wall that looked out to the floor-to-ceiling wall mirror and towel racks, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart.
"Alright," he said. "Get that nasty tongue up my ass then, you fucking slut."
Erin rose to her knees again and did not hesitate. She positioned herself behind him, and this time there was no need to be coy. Her hand snaked through his legs and took hold of his penis, which in a half-erect state was swollen with blood but still hanging mostly downward, making it look enormous, drooping nearly to his knee. She lovingly stroked his shaft and massaged his balls as he face pressed between his buttocks. He felt the flat of her agile tongue taking luxurious licks at his balls, his shaft, and the space between his balls and asshole.
She was obscenely worshipful of his body in a way that drove him wild. There was no hesitation, no acknowledgement that what she was doing could ever be considered obscene. She seemed to revel in the connection between the most regal and dignified part of her body - her face - and the lowest and most base part of his. She kissed him everywhere she could, and soon, he felt his downward pointing cock wrapped in the unspeakable, slippery warmth of her soaped-up tits, as she made hungry, satisfied noises and poked her tongue against his anus… and then inside.
This was not completely new to Mark, but his previous experiences with it had been highly experimental - a 'let's see if we like it' sort of arrangement with one of his kinkier girlfriends. His experience had been that it definitely felt good, but he'd found it a bit embarrassing to present his rear end to a woman in that way.
This time, with the act wrapped in a cloak of dominance and submission, he felt no such embarrassment. It wasn't a science project, it was a ritual . In this setting, Erin was his slave. And as his slave, she would anoint his body, wash his cock, tongue his ass, kiss his feet, and absorb the impacts of his melanated hand on her flawless white face any time he wished. And after all the grief she'd given him and the other employees… she would deserve it.
"Fuck," he groaned, mostly to himself, feeling her bulging tits fucking up and down his shaft while she tucked her tongue into his anus and started to obediently wiggle it around, punctuating her lewd tunneling with occasional sucking, slurping kisses. He leaned his forearms on the glass, wiping away condensation with a squeak, revealing the large mirror outside. He could see his face reflected through the small 'window' of unfogged glass his arm had made; and lower down, blurred out, the rough blurred shapes of Erin's pale body moving between his dark legs.
Receiving a soapy, ass-licking titfuck from behind was a new notch in Mark's headboard - he hadn't experienced it before mostly because none of his partners had had breasts large enough to even attempt it. Obviously, with Erin, this wasn't a problem. She pillowed her breasts upward with her hands and smothered his downward pointing penis with them; even as large as he was, her bountiful chest was able to swallow up every inch. Then, she began to move her breasts up and down, sealing him in that milking, massaging, cock-draining prison of boobs.
I better remember this , Mark thought, because it's not going to last long.
He was only being honest with his limitations. No man could have held out for more than a few minutes under the exquisite, soft, warm squeeze of Erin's massive tits. She knew it just as well as he did, and started to pick up speed with her ministrations at just the right time, matching the pace of his quickening breath.
Mark didn't look out at the mirror as Erin's tongue burrowed deep into his asshole and her sucking, worshipful kisses on his asshole reached critical mass - he didn't want to see the ridiculous face he was no doubt making. his orgasm, strengthened by the stimulation of his asshole, seemed to have an extra layer to it; he growled out his pleasure as he felt a heavy burst of sperm explode from his cock and spray between her breasts, an emission that was repeated again, and again, and again. After the third or fourth shot she released him, letting his penis strong up perpendicular to his body, then masturbated him with long, milking strokes that sent four or five more ropes of virile goo onto the shower glass.
He clenched his teeth and hissed his way through it. His long, heavy cock stopped twitching and subsided to a pleasurable ache. And when he turned, Erin was on her knees, looking like the submissive kitten that had caught the canary. Their eyes met and then they glanced at the mess he'd made between her tits - fat smears of cum were dripping down the insides of each huge breast - and on the shower wall.
"Clean it up," Mark ordered. The order was now almost second nature.
"Yes sir," she replied. Still obedient. Still eager. She raised her breasts to her mouth and started to suck and lick the cum off of them, first one and then the other. No mean feat, and something a lesser-endowed woman couldn't have managed. The eagerness with which she guided the wads of cum into her mouth, chasing them with her tongue, using her fingers, left no doubt that pleasing him with a submissive display was still among her top priorities.
"Mmmm," she mewled, lifting one fat strand with a finger and dangling it over her mouth before slurping it up with pursed lips. "You taste so good, sir. Thank you for feeding me." She crawled on her hands and knees toward him and he deflected her approach with a foot on the shoulder.
"Hold on. You missed a spot." He gestured with his head toward the thick cum ropes that he'd shot on the shower glass, which were so thick they were only just beginning to slide down, leaving wet snail trails behind.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll take care of it, right away." She knee walked over to the glass and leaned in.
WHUMP-squeak .
There was no mistaking that noise - and the resulting visual was so compelling, Mark actually had to step out of the shower and walk around the side to see it. From this new vantage, he could see Erin with her breasts and mouth pressed flat against the glass. Her lips, flush against the surface of the shower wall, looked twice as large as normal, and formed a lewd blowjob shape, within which her tongue was swirling and licking up all of his cum as she left a foam of spit behind.
The squeaking noise came from her huge boobs bulging against the glass and presenting an unparalleled visual of two spheres pressed flat. Even his cock, which was feeling a bit the worse for wear after being jerked, sucked and fucked literally since the moment he'd woken up, managed another twitch at the sight. And Erin must have known he was liking it, because she made a big show of rubbing her squeaking, soapy, cum-smeared tits all over the glass.
Then, he saw her shift… and there was another WHUMP-squeak. A bigger one.
Erin had just turned around to mop up his load with the big, white, round cheeks of her thick bubble butt. Squeeeeeeeeaaaak . Hips to one side. Squeeeeeaaaak . And over to the other.
Nobody would believe this even if I bragged about it to the whole office, Mark realized, watching Erin lick the last of the cum off of the steamy window. Not that telling the office was among his possible options. No, he was now in possession of one of the greatest sexual bragging opportunities ever… and he could never breathe a word of it. He was like a man who had found a huge stash of money, only to discover the bills were in non-negotiable denominations. The whole thing was like a dream.
He rubbed his fingers together and felt that the pads on his digits were pruned. How long had they been in the shower? Too long - and he still hadn't washed his hair or, really, done anything besides fool around with Erin. The cool air outside of the shower seemed to lower the temperature in his loins, as well, and return the question of 'what next?' to his mind.
He stepped back inside. Erin rose to greet him, and presented herself. She had cleaned up every drop of his cum using her mouth, tits, and ass. "Good," he assessed. "You did a good job." He held out his hand.
She kissed it, nuzzled her jawline against it… as if begging his palm to return there soon… and then sucked gently on his thumb. "Thank you, sir."
"Finish your shower, and get dressed," Mark said. He sat down on the shower bench and watched her obey him; the businesslike scrubbing that followed was just as hot as her previous seductive movements, though in a different way. He was against struck by just how outrageous her body was - the way she actually had to gather her breasts in order to wash them, like an amusement park worker gathering stray basketballs that had spilled out of the Pop-A-Shot machine. The way her flesh seemed to pile up in pleasing, round drifts against the motion of her hand. Her smooth, almost supernaturally white belly, the beauty mark on her chin, her underarms as she washed her hair. The candid moments you might share with a girlfriend instead of a pay-by-the-hour submissive.
Mark sent her out and finished his shower alone, not surprised to note the ache in his dick as he washed the shaft. He had cum so hard, multiple times, that his urethra was probably sore from the sheer force of it. Not to mention his balls, which were sliding against his thigh with a sort of 'please, no more' inertness. Work Erin and Bedroom Erin were, in some ways, quite similar. Both seemed well-equipped to push him right to the edge.
He took as refreshing a shower as he could. Truth be told, he had been in there too long, and felt a bit overheated, but the cool air and the warm towel were rejuvenating. He dried himself and wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist, but hesitated when it came time to emerge back into the main room through the open door.
What would he do if Erin was on the bed, legs spread, beckoning him in? He would have to tell her that he was done… and be the first to give up on the fiction of their endless fuckfest inside the hotel room, which had been, thus far, an entirely different world from real life. Mark found he didn't like the idea of doing that - it felt, somehow, like losing in a sexual game of chicken.
Maybe he would deal with it differently. Maybe he would tell the horny bitch to wait. Maybe he would tell her to order up breakfast so he could rebuild his strength. All these thoughts and more were in his head when he strode out of the room and found, to his relief, that signs of a return to reality were present.
Erin was leaning on the back of the couch, halfway sitting on it, as she looked down at her phone and scrolled through messages. She was dressed in a big, fluffy white bathrobe, and her hair was tied up in a towel, with a few copper strands hanging free to frame her forehead.
Jesus Christ, her tits really are huge , Mark again marveled to himself, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. The bathrobe was oversized for her petite frame and the belt loosely tied; the terrycloth only halfway covered each breast, and was open slightly down the middle so that a line of flawless skin could be followed from her neck all the way down to her pubic area.
She said nothing, and made no eye contact. She didn't call him 'sir', didn't kneel or otherwise pay him any mind. He played along with this and retrieved his boxers from where they had been thrown, then his wine-colored shirt, then his slacks and socks, moving with purpose. He sat down on the bed and undid his towel. Though this exposed his penis, Erin didn't turn her head.
Mark wondered what would happen if he told her to stop what she was doing, referred to her as a 'slut' or a 'cunt', and ordered her to start sucking his cock immediately. Would the magic still be there? Or had it finally dissipated along with the steam in the shower?
He dressed, and picked his own phone up off of the bedside table. Reality returned a little more as he saw nearly fifteen unread emails just from that morning. Their ivory tower, their land of Oz, was fading back to reality. Outside her could hear the car honks and noise of the city, intruding a little more than they had seemed to in the prior twelve hours.
Then Mark saw an email CC'd to all the department managers:
Attn: Staff
I'm a little under the weather with a cold, but I'll be in the office after lunch. All morning meetings will be rescheduled for the afternoon.
-E
It had been sent just thirty seconds ago. Well, at least now he knew the executive plan. He looked up at Erin, and this time time, they made brief eye contact. Then she looked back down at her phone and resumed texting.
Mark got to his feet, put on his undershirt, then his shirt, and picked up his tie before walking over to where Erin was leaning her big, round ass against the couch. It was unbelievably cute to see her busily trying to run her office while in a giant fluffy bathrobe, but that didn't concern him as much as how it would be between them in what he presumed to be the last few minutes of their session.
He approached and sat on the back of the couch, tying his tie. Erin looked up… and they locked eyes for what seemed like a very long time… but was probably only a few seconds.
"We good?" Mark ventured.
Erin was silent for a moment, which seemed to be a tipping point. He could read nothing on her face. "You should contact Zelda," she said, finally. "She's emailing me directly because she can't reach you. Something about the virtual tours not working."
Zelda Berryline was Sunflower Realty's highest-earning (and most demanding) realtor. The virtual tour feature on the Sunflower Realty website - which involved flying drones through every house, Google Maps style, had been Mark's last major project - and the various glitches that came with the rollout were still a headache, two months after launch.
The news that he would have to deal with Zelda was of less consequence than the key piece of information now in evidence - Erin's switch had been flipped back to 'boss'. Just minutes before, fresh out of the shower, he had considered what would happen if he grabbed a handful of her hair and bent her round, bubbly ass over the back of the couch. He was even fairly certain that if he'd done so, she would have enjoyed it. Ditto for calling her a slut, whore, or cunt, or something equally reductionist.
Now? He was certain it would be a disaster. They were no longer in the Shire, or Oz, or whatever half-disconnected sexual dream world they'd inhabited in the prior half day. Erin was no longer Eevie, she was Erin. Which meant it was time to grin big and cover up his balls with both hands.
"Alright," Mark said.
"She shouldn't be emailing me about IT, shit, Mark," Erin said. "You need to stay on top of that." The hectoring words came naturally, as if the shortfalls in communication hadn't been the result of the prior couple of hours she'd spent sucking his dick.
"Sorry. I'll call her on the way home."
"Make sure you get a handle on it after lunch," Erin went on. "I don't want to be dealing with this shit all week."
"Will do."
Oh, how he longed for just a few hours ago, when a spanking on her huge ass would have made her gentle as a kitten.
Nothing much more needed to be said - the message had been sent. He would not address the issue of payment, or the potential awkwardness of seeing her at the office - that was later. (And perhaps never.) No, it was time to dress, pick up his duffel of unused sex toys, and head home for a change of clothes that didn't smell like sweat, cum, and pussy.
That's exactly what he did, leaving the hotel room and not looking back, not bidding farewell to Erin any more than he'd say 'goodbye' after leaving her office, following some menial tech errand. As he drove home, Mark told himself that it would be fine. That he could handle it, chalk it up as a strange, but pleasurable, sexual situation, and move on with his life. Any change in the way he viewed Erin wouldn't affect his work.
He almost believed it, too. Except for a tiny part of him that felt slightly manipulated by the way Erin had acted.
She said she didn't want to be in charge… but she still was , this part of him sulked. She pushed it further when she wanted, she drew it back when she wanted. She was laying track for you to run on, opening the door for you to go as far as she liked.
There was another part of him, however, the professional dom part, the realist, that immediately spoke back:
That's how it works, Mark. You know that. If the women didn't top from the bottom a little, you wouldn't have any guideline about what to do. Tons of them email you exact instructions about how they want to be dommed… so how is what Erin did any different?
He was halfway home, turning down an offramp that led to his house. He felt a twinge in his cock as he again imagined knocking her phone out of her hand, bending her over, spreading her, and fucking her pussy, mid-email. Letting the office-wide email blast read something like "I'm a little under the weatherrrrrrrrrrzxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz " because he'd shoved her phone into her cleavage and her face into the cushions .
She bossed you around every day at work and she was still bossing you around, that nagging voice insisted. All you had was the illusion of control.
The traffic was backed up onto the offramp. Mark sat with his hands on the steering wheel, ten and two. "But… that's fine," he told himself, again. "That's how it works. That's how jobs work. That's having a boss."
She took a bunch of extra hours of time and didn't pay.
So? It's not like I didn't enjoy it.
She didn't even ask first.
Yeah, and I humped her brains out! Not exactly a hardship-
Just like she doesn't inform you before changing the scope on important IT projects. Then blames you when they're late, even though the deliverables are literally impossible. Just like-
"Take it easy," Mark muttered to himself, as traffic picked up again. He had a hardon and was feeling increasingly agitated. "It's over."
He was able to let it go. Erin gonna Erin. Even as a submissive she was demanding.
He got home, changed, and called Zelda Berryline,who was apoplectic that one of her sales pitches on a million dollar home had suffered technical difficulties. Mark told her he would fix the issue - the underling responsible for the drone footage had uploaded the files in the wrong format - and corrected it remotely while he ate lunch.
By the time he arrived at the office, Mark had put any regrets out of his mind. The first time interacting with Erin at the office, which he'd worried might be awkward, was a total nothing. She walked right past his office door while wearing leather boots, a pinstripe skirt, a white blouse, and a dark blazer - as well as black face mask which matched her outfit and covered her nose and mouth, selling the 'under the weather' angle. Mark secretly thought it made her look like the world's least stealthy, most caucasian ninja girl, but he of course didn't say so.
So that's it, then , he thought. Business as usual. He felt a bit of regret… but also relief. Being with Erin had been like bouncing around inside a sexual pinball machine; a mad scramble to keep their shared illusion alive, never knowing how far she'd want to push it. He'd had one unforgettable night, and from that moment on would be able to smirk to himself whenever he heard one of the lower-level guys fantasize about 'breaking his dick off' in Erin's ass or 'gluing her nostrils shut', knowing he'd done both of those things, and more.
Mark was good with it. So believe me when I tell you that he looked at his phone only to see if he had any new email notifications, or items to respond to in the IT Slack group.
He did not intend to see the unread item in his personal email - which was from Dream Doms, and had the message line:
Eevie has sent you a direct message!
All of a sudden, Mark's heartbeat picked up. He rose from his chair, closed the door to his office, and sat back down before opening the DM to find it contained a very simple message. Two sentences, in fact. One medium-sized, and one very short:
Please come to my office.
Sir.
Eevie
The game wasn't over, it seemed.
Business was about to pick up.