Chapter Fifteen
It’s alongfucking week. Tuesday afternoon’s post-lunch date with George ended up not happening because of a mass shooting at a warehouse distribution center in Chattanooga. Casey and I flew out with him so he could attend the press conference local official gave.
This wasn’t grandstanding or a photo op on his part—it was George wanting to be a hands-on governor, wanting to talk to the survivors and console the families of the victims, as well as talk to the first responders and thank them for their dedication.
Wednesday is spent dealing with the fallout of the shooting. If it was up to George, and he thought it’d stand, he’d sign an EO immediately banning certain types of guns from our state, and banning high-capacity magazines.
Unfortunately, it’d be the fastest way to get him turfed, and even if it withstood a court challenge, the General Assembly would likely overturn it.
So he keeps doing what he’s been doing for two years and calls in both the Speaker of the Senate and the House to give them a loud and emotional ass-reaming in his office, for both of them being spineless assholes who won’t twist arms to get pending bills out of committee and moving forward in either branch.
When that meeting ends, he’s angry and frustrated, and I wasn’t expecting it when I stopped by to give him the latest draft of a speech I’m working on for him and he orders me to lock the door.
I do, and when I turn back he’s already crossed the office and reaches for my tie, grabbing it and dragging me back to his desk. There, he sits in his chair and puts me on my knees and silently skull-fucks me within an inch of my life while he has me hump his leg. An agonizingly desperate air surrounds him and if you think I hesitated or resisted him in the slightest then you haven’t been paying attention.
After, he sits there gently stroking my hair with his softening cock in my mouth and stares down at me, his demon temporarily sated.
When I see glimpses of George like this, it leaves me wondering if he acted like this with Ellen. If she also helped calm and steady him in a similar way. If so?
Then it’s a miracle we didn’t lose him before now.
Thursday night, George is speaking at a small, private fundraiser at a residence not far from his house, some old college friends of his. Casey’s not going and tells me I don’t have to, either, because it’s more like a dinner than an event.
But she doesn’t ask me to come over to her place, and neither does George.
Before I leave work I stop by his office to say good-night, and he’s on the phone and has the TEMA director and TDOT commissioner sitting at his desk, so I give him a wave and he nods to me.
He looks…drained. Fucking exhausted.
Like the George of January and before. Like he hasn’t been sleeping.
My heart aches for him. Especially when his gaze catches mine and I can see my own longing mirrored there.
Fortunately, this Friday evening, we don’t have to be anywhere. Casey had already cleared George’s schedule for this weekend, other than a charity fundraiser late Sunday afternoon that all three of us will attend. Her orders to me are, when George will let me, to work on budget review stuff with him. I’m glad we don’t have to go anywhere until Sunday, because it’s been raining like crazy and supposed to be wet and dreary all weekend long.
I’m sure I’ll be spending most of the weekend naked and collared and, hopefully, kneeling at his feet in the living room while we actually work.
For now, I’m on my back on George’s bed, in his favorite position for me—tied with my knees bent so my heels touch my ass, legs spread wide, back rounded, and additional ropes running up to the headboard in conjunction with a pillow shoved under my hips to help keep me that way. George has just spent the better part of an hour beating and edging me before putting me in this position. I’ve got a ball gag in my mouth because Sir discovered he likes to make me drool and repeat myself with gagspeak.
Fucking sadist.
Please note the smile on my face as I say that.
Since he’s spent all day at work teasing me in anticipation of this moment, we’re both eager to get to the fucking. I desperately need this weekend with him and I know George damn sure needs it.
Except Sir always makes me pay the price first.
I thought I heard something, and it was obvious Sir either didn’t hear it, or was expecting it. So I figured maybe it was Casey and didn’t bother to signal to Sir.
Except we both freeze when we hear a female voice call out that’s definitelynotCasey.
“Hey, Dad? You up here?”
Aussie raps on the bedroom door and George literally dives off the bed, slamming it shut as she tries to open it.
His eyes widen, and I’d be laughing my ass off right now if it wasn’t stuffed full with a vibrating butt plug.
That’s still vibrating.
