New! Discovering the Office Loyalty List

lesbian erotica / 18+ / adults only

A new one, courtesy of reader ‘plainguy’ who wished to read about dom/sub and betrayal in the office. Inspired by last year’s “Friends, Enemies, Office Sex”

This is an interesting story I think. The setup is based on an article I read years ago about a woman who founded a clothing company from scratch. Using social media and giving free stuff to celebrities in hopes of going viral. Once a celebrity promoted her line, her clothing brand exploded. This takes that theme, but puts a sexual twist on it.

hope you enjoy,

heyall

Because real estate prices had dropped I was able to afford the entire floor of a commercial building. My office has a view of downtown San Diego and this conference room has a view of the ocean. I’m 29 years old. I’m with my lawyer and business advisor and we’re having a conversation with reps from a retail company.

One of my best assets is charm and I put on a real offensive. I’m really going all out, jokes, stories, impressing them with my knowledge of industry data, you name it. They praise my personal designs and company growth and margins. Most of all, they praise our customer demographics, the thing they want more than anything else -- young female shoppers.

When they mention Blake my mood dampens a bit. The focus should be on me and the potential for my products to be in their stores, not the celebrity who’s been promoting us online.

The man in the suit leans forward. “Is it safe to assume that Blake will be involved longterm? Will she sign as the face of this brand?”

My hands clasp under the table. My toes even curl. My face doesn’t change though. My smile remains in place, perfect as ever.

“Oh, you know, Blake is a friend. I’m sure we’ll get something on paper.”

“Good,” he says. “We’d like to see that. It always helps to put a face on a brand.”

I get the distinct impression that getting a deal done is contingent on Blake’s signature and public role. The only problem is, Blake is a pain to work with, intentionally, like she’s actively trying to take control of my company.

My company thrives with online sales. After graduating from college with a marketing degree -- and not being able to find a substantive job -- I put my sketches to good use and got a big loan from my parents to pursue my dreams. Everything on a shoe-string budget. I’m photogenic, media savvy, and had friends eventually working for me as things grew.

The goal was to go viral. To become trendy online. We spent tens of thousands of dollars sending free hoodies and tshirts (among other things) to influencers and celebrities. Most of this went nowhere for a year, but investing is investing.

It wasn’t until Blake got a hold of our apparel that business went through the stratosphere. Blake, the blonde hair, blue eyed, All-American celebrity. She starred in a hit tv show in her younger days, now she’s mostly a socialite with a soccer player husband.

Sounds like a dream, right? It was at first. The problem was, once the allure of celebrity wore off, and once sales became respectable, Blake didn’t step back, she went further. At first it was small things, like suggesting color palettes and wanting a say on digital marketing. Then came the impromptu visits, joining creative meetings, even if done over the phone. Working with a team of mostly young women, they fawned over her.

Eventually it became obvious.

Why start her own company when she can take mine?

A week after the meeting, I’m attending a “30 Under 30” gala for young entrepreneurs in the area. I barely made the age requirement at 29 years old, but nonetheless, I get to rub shoulders with people in different industries.

I don’t drink, so I leave early. And unlike most of my peers, I still live at home with my parents. Being the CEO doesn’t make me rich. In fact I barely draw a salary with all the debt we have.

Needing some time alone, I swing by the office at 10 pm, which means it’s totally empty and the downtown view is spectacular. I leave the lights off in my office just so I can absorb the street lighting. I do this sometimes to clear my head.

Listening to my intuition has always served me well. The situation with Blake still bothers me. Not just with her, but my employees as well. I’ve had this nagging feeling that a certain number of my employees are more loyal to Blake than me. The nuances are so small that it’s hard to articulate, but I know it’s there.

People who work in an office have no idea how much of their digital fingerprints can be accessed. We host everything internally: chat logs, design drafts, HR reports, emails. I have access to everything. The volume is massive, even for a small business like ours.

My intuition, my gut feeling…

I’m not proud of this, but I put in the passwords on my computer where I can access the company database. There are thousands of different messages and files, but I’m not interested in everything. I’m only interested in Blake so I use the appropriate word filters.

My gut instinct proves correct. There are messages like:

-- Any idea when Blake’s coming back to town?

-- [she] prefers a lighter shade of green on that particular dress

-- yesss! blake invited me and eva next week!

-- Our boss *wink, wink* expects a tighter dress code in the office. Appearance has to be on point whenever she’s around. Clean shaven, too

The last comment is biting because I’ve never issued a dress code, much less about grooming habits, so that employee must be referencing Blake as the ‘boss.’ In a group chat of all places. No one pushes back. Everyone seems cool with that joke or whatever you want to call it.

I’ve already accepted that being the boss puts me in an adversarial position to everyone else. Having been an employee for different retail jobs, I totally get that. And I can accept that Blake is a celebrity who’s gorgeous and rich, which naturally puts her on a pedestal.

But this? Maybe it’s the late hour and long day, but the comments are unmistakably sexual in nature. There’s no other way to frame it.

x

The next morning I call Jacqueline into my office when she arrives. A black woman, mid 50’s, head of our HR department. Before working here, she was laid off from a large tech company and the thought of working for a majority-female business like this excited her. If anyone would know what’s going on, it’s her.

Our conversation is so impromptu that she’s still holding her purse and steaming mug of coffee. I don’t give her a chance to get comfortable. I explain everything the way I’d been thinking about all morning. I don’t even care if I sound crazy. I even mention the sexual innuendos.

Jacqueline doesn’t blink. Not even a little bit.

“There’s always chatter,” she says. “Especially when people work long hours. They vent, they speculate, they build alliances. It’s how they process stress.”

“Can I show you the messages? They’re talking about dress codes and grooming.”

“Young people get excited when someone like Blake gives them attention. She’s a superstar. I also think it boosts morale in a way. Keeps them sharp.”

“By shaving their pussies?”

Jacqueline takes a slow sip of coffee. “Whatever keeps them going.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

She laughs. “Let me worry about it. I’ll do some digging around.”

“You’re the best.”

“Just doing my job.”

Her smile is like she knows something.

The next morning I finish a design meeting where all the new concepts are being finalized before production. It’s actually my favorite part of the job, the creativity, the passion, making something new. Afterward I head back to my office to check emails and possibly to scroll through social media as a break.

In my office, Jacqueline is sitting behind my desk typing on my keyboard, something she’s never done before. She doesn’t even acknowledge me while she’s typing, which again, is quite odd.

“Did you need something?” I ask.

“Close the door. I’m about to give you a lesson in business.”

I close the door to my office. “Seems like I’m doing well.”

“Not at your age, honey.”

Her brazenness is really something. When I approach my desk, I get a better look at her outfit which I hadn’t noticed earlier today. A white blouse with a cream colored knee-length office skirt. I’ve never seen this much of her thighs before. And her cleavage. Her dark skin is the color of chocolate. Her fitness puts me to shame.

She leaves the seat, and when I sit down and look at the screen, there’s security camera footage from the conference room. No sound. Just video of my two employees meeting with the retail lawyer. At the moment, they’re going over fine details of a potential deal we might sign.

“What’s this?”

“An education. Just watch.”

My key finance person is Preva Patel, a longtime best friend. We went to the same university. Where I studied marketing, she studied accounting and economics. When I was growing this business in my parent’s house, she got real world experience working for a tech company for a number of years.

Preva and Michelle speak with Ms. Donovan from the retail company. I wish I could hear what they’re saying, but I get the impression that it doesn’t matter. I’m only made to watch.

Ms. Donovan is in her late 40’s from what I can tell, and when the meeting appears to be done, she stands and pushes the papers aside and moves the laptops away. My financial team sits there like school students with their hands down, awaiting orders.

It’s when Ms. Donovan sits on the conference table beside them that I realize what’s happening. The corporate woman lifts her office skirt. From the perspective of the security camera, I can’t tell if she’s wearing panties or not, but Preva’s facial expression gives me the answer. Preva smiles then gets down on her knees.

Before there’s any pussy licking, I close the feed.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jacqueline reaches over and re-activates the security feed, showing my longtime friend eating pussy while my other employee sits there watching like an idiot.

“This is how deals get done,” Jacqueline says. “Not always, but sometimes. Sorry you had to learn this way, but that’s how it goes. I should have briefed you sooner.”

“You’re fucking fired. Get out.”

“Then half of your company is leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m on your side, truly, and Blake has more influence than you. She’s promised jobs to people who are loyal. That’s why this is happening.”

Back to the screen Ms. Donovan’s top is open and both of my employees are sucking her nipples. The betrayal. How could I have been so ignorant to all this? But then again how could I have even seen this coming in the first place?

Jacqueline puts her hands on my shoulder like she’s trying to soothe me.

“Sweetheart, look closer,” she says. “Watch how submissive they are.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was protecting you. Maybe that was a mistake. You were busy with other things. Someone has to handle the parts you aren’t ready for.”

My stomach is in knots and my eyes are glued to the screen. My best friend gets back on her knees and returns to eating Donovan’s pussy. I didn’t even know she was a lesbian, or whatever this is. Preva Patel always used to confide in me about guys she was interested in dating. She never mentioned anything like this.

“So it’s official, Blake has stolen my company.”

“That’s how you see it?”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

“Blake is close to stealing your company, but she hasn’t won yet.”

Jacqueline ends the security feed which spares me the misery. But it seems she’s giving me something else to be miserable about when she clicks on a browser tab which she’d opened earlier. Google Docs. A spreadsheet. There’s a ‘J’ on the top corner so I’m assuming it’s her gmail account.

The headline: “Loyalty List”

“Read this,” she says. “Then calm down. Think about it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

When she leaves I get back to work. And I very much consider this work.

The “Loyalty List.” Based on the title alone I have a pretty good idea what I’m in for. I have 52 employees and there’s a list of 17 names, all women in key positions, and I can only assume they’re the ones who’ve flipped to Blake’s side.

On the left column are the list of names, which are ranked by alphabetical order. I consider everyone here to be a friend, so each name is crushing, especially the girls who’ve been with me from the start, before there was any money, when we were hustling on social media to grow this brand.

The next column shows their job title. In the center column are heart emojis, ranging from 1 to 5, which are presumably their ranking. On the right side are notes and descriptions, and when I read them, my stomach churns even further because it’s a list of sex acts.

Phrases like:

“a stereotypical *mid* but she ate me on the table while others watched”

“very beautiful, we scissored until I came twice. she has the best labia and clit”

“begged to swallow my cum, i like that, otherwise average”

“so eager to please, dresses like me now, not much personality”

“perfect tongue and lips”

“average. nothing special. consider cutting”

“a solid *mid* but she knows how to suck and please”

“top tier, she’s hot, great fashion sense, eats pussy like a champ”

Now let me tell you this. My full name is at the bottom. Including my middle name. No ranking yet because I hadn’t done anything. In the comment section Blake wrote, “Founder -- still resisting. Make her watch first. Then pussy eating (giving or receiving). After that she’ll be eager to serve. She’ll become an addict.”

x

How do you fight fire with fire? Or is the world condemned to lawsuits and backstabbing? It’s been three days since learning about the “Loyalty List” and I’ve become numb to the humiliation that my employees have unleashed. I think about them often, in every room of this floor, if they’re kissing, getting on their knees for each other. I wonder if they’ve always been like this or if Blake brought something out of them.

My mood is in such disarray that I approach Jacqueline’s open workplace when she’s sitting behind her computer and other employees are scattered in other areas. She looks at me and smiles, being able to tell what emotional state I’m in.

“How do I beat the bitch?” I ask.

“Certainly not with money. You can’t outspend Blake and you can’t compete with fame.”

“Then how?”

“I’ve actually contemplated this,” she says. “Blake rules with a sexual hierarchy. You rule with creative leadership. You’re the artist. So give them incentives besides money. Let them into your process.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing all along.”

“Which is why you have to go deeper.”

“How?”

“First you have to let go,” she says. “Unbutton your pants and touch yourself. Quickly. Before anyone sees.”

“Have you lost your mind? I’m trying to stop Blake from stealing my company, not becoming her in the process.”

“This is how you beat her. Trust me, it’s part of the plan.”

I look her in the eyes and once again I marvel at Jacqueline’s ability to not blink. Her stare is powerful. My heart races. I can hear the work place thrive behind me, someone laughing about twenty feet away, sewing machines, fabric rustling, people collaborating. We might have enough privacy here. Who bothers looking at the HR area?

Walking away now means losing everything, so I unbuckle my belt, undoing the button, pulling the zipper down. I hold my pants up with one hand.

Jacqueline types on her laptop then spins the screen around to show me the infamous “Loyalty List” which has already been etched into my brain. At a glance, I notice a few updates on the notes section along with two names added since the list is longer. I don’t even want to know who the new people are.

“Read it while you cum,” she says. “I’m serious. Prove you can handle this plan. And don’t worry about anyone catching you, I’ll be on the lookout.”

I take a deep breath and slip my hand below my undergarment, while my other hand holds my pants up. I’m embarrassingly aroused from three days of obsessive thoughts about sex in the workplace and all things related to pussy.

This would ruin my reputation and I’m relying on Jacqueline to look behind me, while I read the updated contents of the “Loyalty List” and what my employees have been doing. My best friend Preva has apparently been honing her pussy licking skills. Sandra Smith in finance has eaten ass for the first time. Tina, the youngest of the group who works as an assistant, is finding other ways to give support. Mallory in design apparently has a fetish for using a strap-on to her colleagues.

I cum reading about Blake’s plan to use a six-inch strap on my asshole. So that’s how she plans to conquer me. By stretching me in all the wrong areas.

After my orgasm I look away from the list. With wet fingers I fix my pants, staining everything I touch, and then fixing my clothes so I look presentable again. I’m buzzing between my legs and I’m certain my face is red.

Jacqueline approaches me.

“Now you’re ready,” she says. “The way to beat Blake is by winning your employees back. Offer them a better outcome. First, you’ll let them into your creative process. I’ll arrange private sessions. Second, you’ll be the model for new prototypes. Strip down, all the way. Let them pin, drape and measure you. They’ll touch you, adjust you, see every inch while they work.”

“You want me… naked?”

“How else can you win them back?”

I want to retort but I’ve never won an argument against Jacqueline before.

“Maybe I’ll think about it,” I say.

“You’ve already made up your mind. You’re doing this.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You’re not ready for my truth.”

“At this point I’m immune.”

Jacqueline brings her lips to my ear. “I’ve tasted Blake’s pussy and it’s basic. I think she’s a basic white girl. I’m betting you taste better. We’ll see if my gamble pays off.”

It’s several days later when it finally happens. Jacqueline needed time to arrange everything, from privacy to individual schedules to strategies on who should be ‘targeted’ first. It’s called a ‘team bonding’ workshop for employees who have become loyalists to Blake and this is our way of getting them back.

At 6 pm the sun goes down and most employees have left.

Chloe, Anna, Cynthia, and Jeanette. All part of the creative/design team and I considered them friends at some point. Maybe we can still be friends. We talk about plans and designs for next year and they listen to every word. I give a brief overview of the new designs. I tell them it’s ‘company and creative secrets.’ That’s why we’re doing it after-hours.

After explaining my creative process and what I expect, Cynthia, the shy one who apparently eats loads of pussy, purses her lips. She’s wearing thick framed glasses and has a youthful appearance. She struggles to speak up.

“Are we using the dummies today?” Cynthia asked. “Just curious. I was told we’d be using live bodies. I don’t see a model here.”

“I’ll be the model today. It’ll give me a firsthand look at the group technique.”

This surprises them but they hide their excitement. Keep in mind that nudity is a cornerstone of a fashion workplace. We have young models here all the time, usually those trying to break into the industry, and these designers are casual about it. Nothing shocks them. But I see something in their eyes, anticipation, they want to see me.

I start undressing without ceremony. Everything off, tossed on a nearby table. I’ve resigned myself to using my body to pull these women back onto my side. But I refuse to give them a show by stripping or dancing for them. I’m not that kind of person. I’m naked now, barefoot on the floor, standing for their gazes.

The only time I’ve ever been nude like this in front of this many people is in the locker room and I struggle to maintain a confident composure. I act like my confidence is bulletproof.

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, this bias-cut slip needs to hug without pulling. Drape it across my shoulders.”

Chloe steps in first, one of my best friends since college. In our younger days we used to talk about dating and sex. She became a mini-influencer and helped me promote this company and then I brought her onboard. Apparently her tongue has been well-trained by Blake and even does work around the asshole.

She lifts the material over my chest, her fingers brush against my nipple as she adjusts. I’d seen her tits casually around the pool before, but she’d never seen anything of mine. I’m sure this must be a treat for her. Anna works on the other side. I can feel both of them breathing on my skin. Jeanette, the strap-on enthusiast, kneels to pin the hem, her breath warming my thighs, fingers grazing the curves of my ass ‘for tension.’ Cynthia measures my inseam and gets between my legs. She’s getting a view that bosses aren’t supposed to give their employees.

This is a professional crew despite their young age and they’re doing everything the way they’re supposed to. On the surface this looks like a legit operation. But there’s an energy here, little nuances with their eyes on my body, and they’re breathing heavier than when doing this with younger models who are far more attractive than I could ever be. Hands start to tremble. It’s got to be more than just my nude body. They most certainly have other plans.

By the end, the prototype is roughly fitted on my body, pinned and marked. They step back, admiring their work and me wearing it, nude under the piece, and they’re proud of what they see.

What is the price of their loyalty?

Something I can live with.

Chloe speaks up. “Should we remove it now?”

“Sure, do anything you want. We’re a team.”

They’re breathing harder and the act of stripping me naked is different than dressing me. Chloe’s fingers hook under the thin straps at my shoulders, sliding them down, undressing me like a present, letting the material fall to my bare feet. They work together as a team to get me naked again and shy Cynthia actually reaches out and brushes her finger against my right nipple and the others look to make sure it’s safe. That I won’t freak out for being touched this way on purpose.

I don’t stop them from doing this. I guess they’d expected it all along and waited for someone to break the ice. There’s a voice screaming inside me that I’m the boss who built this company from nothing and that I pay their salaries, and now I’m standing here letting them touch me, which is a different kind of humiliation that I’ve ever experienced. I stay motionless and let them do whatever they want.

This is what it feels like to drown in shame.

x

Jacqueline lived up to her title as Head of HR these last two weeks. I’ve got to hand it to her. She mapped out everyone on Blake’s Loyalty List and ranked them by influence and persuadability, then quietly arranged their schedules to meet with me for private sessions.

But anyway, you must be wondering how I flipped Blake’s list upside down. It involved getting naked and kneeling in my work station after going over new designs. Jacqueline taught me the do’s and don’t of eating pussy like a champ. The way these particular girls have grown used to under Blake’s tutelage. It was fighting fire with fire. My pussy licking with theirs.

Sessions are different depending on availability and persons involved. But it always involved them lifting their skirts or dropping their pants and me eating them out. Slow and thorough the way they like. Tongue tracing, circling, going deep, pressing inside their asses while they grip my hair or the edge of a table for balance. So far I’ve tasted 7 of them, women who are too vital to this company to lose. Hopefully it’ll end with them.

There were things with strap-ons and dildos. Me using it on them. Pumping with my hand or wearing it. One case, with Chloe, she wanted me to wear the strap around my face and pump it that way. Or she sat on my face and rode me. It’s often the quiet ones with the freakiest imaginations.

And of course there’s Jacqueline, the woman who’s done the most for me. Nothing is free, not even her loyalty and services in the matter. She wanted something special and she probably deserved that. Even with the generous salary I already pay her.

I went to Jacqueline’s apartment on the outskirts of the city where she answered the door naked. A muscular goddess. Chocolate skin, black nipples, and she answered the door with such ease that it suggested she’s done that kind of thing before. She got straight to the point. No small talk like in the work place, no pleasantries. I ate her pussy and asshole on the balcony while she sipped a martini. She was my boss that day.

The humiliation is constant and unforgettable. Every time I work alongside them, there are twinkles in their eyes, little nods or winks, knowing what I’ve done for them. Knowing they’ve came in my mouth and that I lapped it up. That’s especially true for the five women whose assholes I’ve licked.

Arguably the worst part, or certainly the most confusing, is how unbearably horny I’ve become. My throbbing from touching them and them looking at me while I perform. It’s embarrassing when they notice my state of being. The degradation itself is a kind of foreplay. The moment someone pushes my head down or spreads for me, my body responds like hypnosis. Maybe I’m a secret sub and didn’t know it. Maybe it’s been me all along and I should be thanking Blake for this humiliating experience.

Speaking of Blake, she’s back in California after doing weeks of promotion for a streaming movie in which she’s the lead. She plays a thief in this semi-erotic drama. The kind of movie that female audiences eat right up. The irony is striking, at least to me.

I drive to the hotel where she’s staying. Her celebrity status guarantees VIP treatment, including top-tier spa services and a private lounge. I wave ‘hello’ to the front desk, but I don’t need their help, I’ve already done my research for where the spa area is located.

Per her instructions, I go to the locker room and get naked, slipping on a thick white robe and slippers. An attendant helps keep my belongings secure.

The same attendant points me down the hall to Blake’s area and I can feel the steam on my skin. Along the way there are a few women, mostly middle-aged, lounging in hot tubs or getting massages, just relaxing with their extra time. Having no idea what may happen down the hallway.

In the private area, Blake is nude laying on her stomach on a massage table while a woman presses oil onto her skin. There’s a lawyer sitting nearby, comically overdressed in the moment in a pantsuit and briefcase on the table. The lawyer is about late 50’s with reading glasses and she’s reading on her phone. Is she involved sexually with Blake, too? No way. But then again, I’m no longer someone to assume.

Blake speaks to the masseuse. “Thanks, you’re an absolute doll. Can you leave us?”

The masseuse wipes her hands with a towel and leaves, smiling at me on the way out. Is she involved in this as well? Blake lays there, looking at me with cat-like eyes, frontside down, her glistening backside and ass showing. Her long blonde hair is wavy and her skin is bronzed from sun bathing.

I’ve spent the last two weeks systematically humiliating myself to reclaim my employees and the strategy has worked. Blake’s List is in shambles, at least for the moment, and Blake is now going to sign an official brand ambassador deal on my terms. Her face will appear in department stores, but I retain full creative control.

Blake is looking at me, eyeing me up and down from where she lays, thinking about what I must have done. Does she think I was able to muster the money to pay them more? Does she know what I did with my body and mouth? I’m sure a few employees must have told her. Women talk, always will, especially about sex and drama. I wonder if Blake admires my tenacity or if she thinks it’s hilarious that I’m forced to play her game.

She smiles at me, that Hollywood smile with the brightened teeth and the towel covering her breasts, but her bare backside is showing. We make small talk while she lays there, not even offering a handshake.

Her passive-aggressive nature must be studied:

“Oh… you know…”

“So how’s business? I hear you’ve been busy.”

“Anything interesting going on?”

The sexual power games never end with her. It escalates when she slowly sits upright. Although her back doesn’t have any tanlines, the front part of her chest, her tits, have square triangle shapes of white around her tanned skin. Her nipples are so pink they’re like jewelry. For the last decade, millions of people around the world would kill to see this view of her. She’s never done a nude scene before and she’s never shown anything like this in magazines or beaches. Nothing even by accident.

“I’ll sign the contract,” she says. “Being a brand ambassador is a great title for me. One more detail before we make it official. Shall we get into the hot tub?”

The lawyer opens her briefcase, and with no expression on her face, she puts the contract that my team sent her on the table, along with a thick pen.

I look at the no-nonsense lawyer, then I look at Blake and her nipples, then I drop my robe to the floor and step out of the slippers. I’m naked from head to toe, with my feet on the floor. The lawyer doesn’t flinch but Blake does this thing where she bites her lower lip. A sexy move that can seduce anyone. Now we’re seeing each other naked and it feels like a turning point in our relationship. We can’t really judge each other anymore, can we?

She steps to the small hot tub on the ground level, but she doesn’t get inside all the way. Just her feet and legs. She sits on the edge of the tub with her legs spread. Her pussy is waxed and her labia is a shade of light brown with pink insides that’s already wet.

At this point why fight it? The deal with the department store is life changing to me. I’ll finally be able to reimburse my parents for their big investments and that means a lot to me. I’ll also be able to draw a salary for myself, after paying all my employees in full. I step into the hot tub, getting closer to Blake’s pussy, and I take a moment to stare at it. I’m so transfixed that I barely register the hot water against my skin.

She doesn’t have to ask and this was never negotiated between us. With how she’s raising her eyebrow, and knowing her sexual history and kinks, it’s so obvious what she wants. We both knew it would come to this for the contract to be signed. A contract, keep in mind, that’s favorable to me.

I’ve done this a bunch of times before, eating pussy, but this is like confronting the final boss. My sexual debasement only happened because of her and now we’ve come full circle. I put my hands on her hips, take a deep look, Blake doesn’t pressure me, perhaps she likes savoring my freefall. The contract is favorable to me, but sex is favorable to her. I know she’s watching me but I refuse to look her in the eyes.

Blake’s pussy tastes sweet and for a moment I realize why my employees had flocked to her. The fluid isn’t too thick, not too thin, but an interesting consistency with a peach-like taste. Her thighs feel like silk, a product of constant spa treatments and the best diet a woman can afford. I tongue-fuck her pussy to get this over with. Blake rocks her hips into my mouth to get it deeper.

Humiliation burns so hot I can barely breathe. We’ll be working together for years, same with Blake’s lawyer, and they’ll have this image of me etched in their minds forever. The image of me being sexually subservient in a hotel hot tub. Did I really win this war? I took her list apart with my own mouth, and yet here I am, doing it again for the mastermind. Eating her pussy in front of a white collar professional turns this into a tribunal. Shame grabs a strong hold of me, tells me that Blake won. But the angel in my head says that we both won, a draw, a compromise.

But god, the arousal. I’m pulsing, listening to the bitch moan and whisper my name. Perhaps that’s my victory. She cums in silence while holding my head, perhaps not wanting to acknowledge the immense pleasure I’ve given her. But she floods my mouth, coats my tongue, squeezes my head so hard it hurts. Then she relaxes and breathes deep like it’s a yoga session. She pets my head like a kitty.

“Let’s sign that now. I’m meeting friends later.”

I wipe my mouth. “A simple ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

She looks at me, pauses, then smiles. Passive-aggressive as ever.

“Thank you,” she says. “For everything.”

I wipe my mouth again. “You’re welcome.”

“Tell me something, did you get better at pussy-licking after practicing on my girls? Or were you always this eager with your tongue?”

“I’m playing the game. Same as you.”

We’re both doing this dance where we try to assert dominance, but the fact is, we’re naked and buzzing, so it’s a losing proposition. I step out of the tub with hot water dripping down my body. I meant what I said, I can play the game, and I stand naked and proud so she doesn’t get to see my searing shame.

This entire time the prim lawyer had been fingering herself with a hand down her pants and she’s made herself cum from watching me. She licks the wetness on her two fingers, still looking at me, and then she buttons her pants and sits upright.

Blake steps out of the tub and sits by the table. Me and her are still naked, a game of who’ll blink first, but neither of us do. She signs the paper and hands it to me, then she makes me say, ‘thank you.’ After getting the signed contract, I grab my bathrobe and leave the spa area.

The End

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