“Stay,” he says.
He walks away, vanishing into the bathroom. I dimly register the sound of the faucet, but I’m mostly focused on myself. Waves of arousal roll through my body. My hard cock aches for touch. I need movement. I need to be fucked.
But that’s not going to happen. He’s punishing me.
Andre emerges from the bathroom with a towel. He uses it to clean up the cum that spilled from my mouth onto the floor. He doesn’t touch me.
He takes the towel back to the bathroom then emerges again, this time going to his desk. He sits. He jogs his mouse to wake up his computer.
I whine as I realize that he’s really going to leave me here. This isn’t the kind of punishment that I want. I huddle down, settling back onto my heels with my forehead on the floor. It shifts the toy inside me. It presses my stiff dick between my thighs and abdomen.
“I can’t see you like that,” he says. “Sit up.”
I do what he says. Maybe if I’m good, he’ll reward me.
But the minutes drag.
“Please,” I whisper.
“It’s way too early for you to start begging. Don’t you dare,” he warns as my hand goes to my cock.
I don’t know how long I can sit here. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Something bad, maybe.
But then Andre says, “The inbox is crammed with emails. Deal with it.”
The bizarre command hijacks my brain, freezing the impulses that were about to seize it.
I stare at him, uncomprehending. Emails are not part of this reality.
Andre’s sharp blue eyes flick up to mine.
“Get up,” he orders. “Get to work.”
There’s no disobeying him when he’s looking at me like that, so I get to my feet. I’m disoriented as I walk to my desk. I thump down in my chair, whining as the beads press deeper. Shakily, I turn on my computer.
As I start going through the inbox, I become aware of myself in a way that I don’t like. This work is part of a different reality, and I don’t like it intruding on me right now.
That’s why he’s doing it, of course. I see those cruel, electric blue eyes flicking to me. I see his satisfaction in my torment, and I realize that this isn’t new. He’s been my tormentor from the beginning, arousing me, threatening me with exposure when heknew all along. Even when I came on the floor of his penthouse bathroom, he knew. He’s the one who made it happen.
I cry out when the toy starts vibrating. My hand jerks, hitting the mouse and sending it skidding across the desk.
I glare at him, suddenly angry, but then I see how dilated his pupils are. I see that he’s affected too. So I decide to play along. I can’t hope to hide now, and it helps me to remember that I don’t want to. I won’t go back inside the cage of myself.
So I stand up to retrieve my mouse. I let Andre see how swollen and hard I am. I let myself pant and moan. I couldn’t have stopped it anyway, so I stop myself from being ashamed of it. If he doesn’t want me to be this way, he can stop.
I get back to work as best I can. But as I sort of read through the emails, flagging a few as important, I rock and moan and shudder—and Andre watches me. He goes very still.
Then he gets up from his chair. I pretend to ignore him, even when he grabs the bottle of lube.
He walks around the work station and pulls my chair back from the desk. He pulls me out of the chair entirely and bends me down over the desk.
I hear his zipper. I hear the lube. Then I feel the vibrating beaded toy being drawn from me. I close my eyes in relief. I moan when I feel the press of his cockhead. He pushes into me, opening me wider than the toy. He feels a thousand times better. He’s real and human, and he needs this like I do.
He’s already come once, so he’s unhurried as he fucks me against the desk. I, however, need release. I need it now.
I chase the rhythm. I push back against him. I tighten on his cock. I’m so close, but he’s not hitting me right.
I start squirming under him. He knows how to make me come. He’s doing this on purpose.
