I pick up a metal ruler and crack it down on the desk. Errol jumps a little at the noise. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you right now!”
Errol pushes his lower lip out in a pout and my dick strains in my pants. “You can’t fire me, sir! I need this job so badly — I’ll do anything to keep it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Anything?” I ask, my tone challenging.
Errol runs his tongue lasciviously over his lips. “Anything, Mr. Knight.”
I part my legs and point between them. “Come over here and tell me that again.” Errol starts towards me. The slight unsteadiness that makes his hips sway as he tries to find his balance in patent leather stilettos has my cock leaking into my underwear.
“Stop!” I bark. Errol teeters a little. “Not very well practiced in those high heels, are you, Miss Francis?”
When he shakes his head, I sneer at him. “I assume that’s because you usually have your legs in the air and spread like a whore when they’re on your feet. Isn’t that right?” Errol bites his lip, and it’s so hot I have to fight not to break character.
“Never mind,” I say in the same sharp tone. I pick up the ruler and point to the floor. “Crawl to me.”
There’s nothing fake about the whimper Errol lets out. “I changed my mind. Stay there —on your knees,” I command. I keep him kneeling, blatantly ogling the bulge that swells obscenely underneath his tight little skirt, until he’s squirming and unable to hide how much this humiliation is turning him on.
“I’m going to guess that you’re such a dirty girl, you’re dripping into your panties for me. Am I right?”
The flush on Errol’s cheeks looks real, too. “Yes,” he whispers.
I smirk and point between my legs again. “Crawl. And keep your eyes on me.”
By the time Errol reaches me, his skirt has slid all the way up to his hips, exposing the sexy globes of his ass cheeks, barely contained by delicate lace that matches his bra. The way he looks up at me through his lashes is so submissive and needy I want to just grab his hair and choke him on my cock until I blow my load down his throat.
I unknot and take off my tie. “Turn around,” I order. Errol obeys, letting out a little gasp when I pull his hands together and bind his wrists.
When I order him to face me again, I have my pants undone and my boxer briefs pulled down. “Since you’re useless for taking messages and managing my calendar, let’s see if you’re good for anything else.” I glare at him. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”
“No,sir.”
Oh, holy shit. I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but that whisperedsirdoes things to me I really wasn’t expecting. I run my tongue over my upper lip, watching Errol’s eyes track the movement.
“What do you call me?” My voice drops to a growl. “And what are you going to call me from now on?”
“Sir,” Errol says again in that same breathy voice. “Yes, sir.”
Leaning forward, I grab ahold of his blouse and yank it open, sending buttons flying. I pick up the ruler and slap it hard into my open palm. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t spank your ass red until you’re crying, then make you crawl out of here with your makeup running down your face and your tits and ass hanging out.”
Errol’s pupils are blown wide with arousal. His swallow bobs in his throat a moment before he drapes his tongue over his lower lip. The piercing catches the light as a long string of spit drools from the tip.
“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing him by the hair and shoving my cock in his mouth before it can drip onto the ground. I use his mouth roughly, forcing my cock deep enough to choke him.
When I release him, his eyeliner is wrecked and he’s dripping tears and spit. He blinks up at me through watery eyes, mouth wide as he pants for breath. I pinch his chin between my thumb and forefinger, giving me a perfect angle to spit in his mouth. As I let go of him to grab my dick, his eyelids flutter and he lets out a soft, needy sound.
It calls to something feral inside me. I need more of those sounds out of him. I lean over Errol and spit right in his face. He shudders and rewards me with a plaintive whine. The sound becomes choppy when I slap his face a few times with my cock.
“You like that, slut?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispers. I lean forward and yank his skirt down to his thighs, trapping his legs together and giving me a hot-as-fuck view of his cock straining against the black lace of his panties.
“I bet those panties are soaked just from choking on my dick. Is that how you need to be used?”
“Yes sir — please, sir.”
“Like being my horny little bitch?” I ask in the same low tone. When Errol whispers another yes, I grin. “You like being degraded, Miss Francis? Tell me how badly.”
“Please, sir, degrade me however you want.”
