It is the Oval Office, after all.
“I’ll let you know if I learn anything,” Casey-Marie says.
“Thanks. Leave the door open, please.”
She heads out but before Jordan can move I reach out and clamp my right hand around the nape of his neck and squeeze with what I know is an uncomfortably firm grip. I don’t say anything, and neither does he.
I watch as Casey-Marie disappears into her office at the end of the hallway and closes the door behind her. Then, steering Jordan with the grip I have on him, I propel him ahead of me toward my private study.
One of the things Jordan’s become an expert at over the years is quieting my noisy brain, clearing the emotional and mental chaff that swirls inside my skull so I can focus on my job. Or so I can, at the very least, relax for a little while. That emotional noise is due in no small part to my anxiety and I know this. The lovely soup of brain chemicals dumped into my skull when Jordan takes full control of me helps dampen those noises.
Except sometimes, taking charge of Jordan can also give me a mini mental vacation. Because he becomes the center of my universe and my entire focus for a while. Doesn’t give me as strong or long of an effect but it’s still quite lovely.
When we step into my study I don’t release my grip as I reach behind me with my other hand, shut the door, and lock it. My cock’s already hardened in my slacks.
I step in close so I can whisper into his left ear. “I gave you an order last night, did I not?”
“Yes, Mister President,” he whispers back.
“Then you know what I want.” I gently shove him toward my desk and without hesitation he steps over to it. After pulling something from his pocket and dropping it onto the desk, he plants his hands on the desktop and leans over, spreading his legs.
I chuckle and grab the hem of his blazer, flipping it up and over his back before I look at what he dropped on the desk. He remembered lube and a condom.
“Glad you brought those because I’d be fucking you regardless.” I tug the hems of his shirt and undershirt out of his slacks and pull them up.
I reach around him, unfasten his belt and slacks, and shove them and his briefs down past his ass. His pale cheeks are two perfect pale globes and I grab them, digging my fingers in hard and deep enough I know he’ll later bear matching bruises. His head droops and he grinds his ass against me, no doubt feeling my erection through my slacks.
This time of day I don’t dare give him a few hard smacks because while the detail might ignore those noises I have a feeling staffers wouldn’t, and I won’t risk the sound carrying. Instead, I slide my middle finger along the seam of his ass and find his well-lubed pucker, pressing, easily breaching and loving the soft moan he tries to choke back.
“Good boy,” I say as I slowly finger-fuck his hole. “You showed up ready to be fucked and you’re already acting like a bitch in heat. You can’t lie and say you don’t enjoy this, can you?”
“No, Mister President.”
I press a second finger inside him and now he’s actively rocking his hips in time with my motions, fucking himself onto my hand. I reach around him and grab his tie, taking a few turns of it with my fist and using it as a leash.
“What if everyone could see you now, Mr. Walsh,hmm? That slutty ass grinding against me.” He gasps as my fingers sweep across his prostate. “And you can’t even stroke your poor cock to get off. That must mean youenjoybeing the presidential fucktoy just for the sake of it, right?”
Another soft, moaning gasp. “Yes, Mister President. I do.”
I nibble the shell of his left ear. “You dowhat, Mr. Walsh?” I add a third finger to his ass and I’m not sure his knees don’t almost give out.
“I enjoy being the presidential fucktoy.”
Yeah, at some point Jordan and I will need to sit down with Leo and discuss this side of our play in detail with him. Once I’m out of office and the three of us are together most of the time, Jordan and I won’t have frequent or easy opportunities for us to engage in this without either asking Leo to clear the area, or for him to be okay with it.
And I’m not entirely convinced the sadist would be okay with it, or that Jordan and I would be comfortable engaging in it with him present.
Emotionally, Leo treats his boy as sweet, innocent. Not fragile but beloved and cherished. Don’t get me wrong, Jordan loves that side of their play, too, and I have fun watching them in that mode.
The president’s slutty little fucktoy however loves when I mine this deeply dark vein of depravity inside Jordan’s soul. Not all the time, but it adds a delicious spice to our dynamic, gives Jordan a chance to dive headfirst into this headspace and allows me a guilt-free way to purge some of my own darkest urges.
Jordan’smine. In my head and heart he’s been mine since the first night I met him in person.
And asmineI want to run him through the entire emotional spectrum.
AsmineI want to drag him through the crushing pressure of those mental trenches because it means my own soul is assured when we’re playing in the bright and sunny light that he’s not only with me for the fun times, or because Leo wants it this way.
Embracing his darkness means Jordan’s my willing partner in this. In everything we do.
