Peter just wants to be useful at his new job, and his beautiful boss won’t have trouble thinking up ways to push him to his limits …
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only. It features intensely erotic situations, multiple dominant women and a submissive man, humiliation, role reversal, exhibitionism and cfnm dynamics, orgasm denial, femdom dominance, and degrading backdoor sex. All characters are 18 or older.
Sandra Lancet is any man’s dream and any competitor’s nightmare. She’s got the body of a model and the mind of a shark. When Peter tries to make a good impression on his ambitious boss, she quickly sees a use for him beyond his original job description. Before he knows it, he’s not just pleasuring her, he’s become her toy: on display for her, for her friends, in any clothes she puts him in or takes him out of, being used any way these women see fit …
Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from the works of Jessica Whitethread with full consent of the original author.
Excerpt:
“Good,” she purred. “I love a man just quivering there on the edge.” She leaned forward and gave the shape in his underwear a little stroke. He groaned helplessly, his cock throbbing intensely in response. He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to erupt right there in his underwear. It was torture.
“Do you think you’d come if I did that again?” she asked curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone quite so wound up.”
“Please,” he begged.
“Don’t be so impatient,” she instructed. “I want to enjoy this. Take off the underwear.”
In a moment he was naked, standing there in the middle of the office. Her eyes never left him. That same triumphant, predatory look had come back.
“Good. Let’s have a turn, then,” she ordered. “Nice and slowly. Cock out. Good.”
He turned obediently, moving his feet in small increments. Forcing himself to be slow and to breathe. The feeling of being on display was incredibly arousing. It seemed like his cock threatened to explode with every hot pulse of blood that rushed into it.
“Give it one nice slow stroke,” she ordered. “But don’t you dare come yet.”
He did it as slowly as she’d asked, his fist wrapped around himself, his eyes closing briefly again. His gasping breath made it painfully clear how close he was.
“You’re about to make a mess,” she observed thoughtfully. “Go get some paper towels from the bathroom.”
He bent to retrieve his underwear fromin front of her but she kicked lightly at his arm. “Go.”
“Like this?” he asked.
“I didn’t say to get dressed, did I?”