Savaged

Same Time Tomorrow

Your twelve o’clock is here, Mr. Reddick.

Escort her up, please.

Escort.

I laugh out loud, but the sound isn’t completely jocular.  I can’t recall the last time I felt so nervous.  I have made about a half million dollars worth of deals this morning, but the woman who is about to walk through my door has had my head spinning since I spoke with her on the phone an hour ago.

In a little over an hour and a half, I have to give a presentation to the board, including the new chair, and if they don’t buy my projections, they aren’t going to invest in my latest venture.  If they don’t invest, I stand to lose a good chunk of change.  I look out the window of my high-rise office building where Reddick Multinational—my recently-gone-public six-billion-dollar-net-per-year conglomerate—houses its executive offices.  I can see the tiny cars below as they go about their lunchtime business and wonder if there are any other men on New York’s wealthiest bachelors list who are about to embark on the same business deal as I.

I am about to pay for sex.

It will be the first time sex didn’t involve my hand and a bottle of lotion in nearly two years.

If I were to describe my life as seriously fucking busy, the gross understatement of the phrase would make any other conversation related to the topic pointless.  Whether there is a point or not, I don’t have time to engage in the discussion long enough to make someone understand everything I accomplish on any given day.  I work from six in the morning until ten at night, eat in my office, work out in the company gym, and often sleep in the room off the side of my office, which has been equipped with a full bathroom and a bed.  If I do make it home, I usually pass out.  If I’m unable to sleep, I choose from a selection of porn-without-plot DVDs from the cabinet, get out a bottle of Alpine Suede scented lotion from Bath and Body Works, and relieve myself into unconsciousness.

My brother harassed me into considering this venture on New Year’s Eve after I gave him a brief, drunken description of my sex life.  He claimed it didn’t count when no one else was involved.  Just having him say that had me thinking about it way too much, and last night I had pulled the little card he had given me out of the trash can and dialed the number.  An hour ago the phone rang, and a Ms. Valerie Woods told me who she was, asked if I was free for lunch, and made it very clear that while she was available, she was far from free.  Just her voice and knowing she was coming here to fuck me were enough to give me an erection that mimicked the Chrysler Building.

I jacked off in my executive bathroom a half hour later to make sure I didn’t come as soon as she walked through the door.  I’m not completely sure it helped because I’m already starting to feel a little discomfort in my pants, and she hasn’t even reached my office yet.  Yeah…but when she does, I’m going to have her on her knees and sucking me within the first five minutes.

Definitely getting a little uncomfortable in the boxer briefs.

The slight knock on the door is familiar, and when Grace opens it and announces Ms. Woods’ arrival, I have to swallow hard before I can get a sound out of my mouth.

Please come in, Ms. Woods.  I blink rapidly a few times as she comes around the door and into view.

Fucking gorgeous.

I knew she would be attractive.  I mean, that’s part of the hiring requirements, right?  I’m annoyed with myself when my business-focused mind starts wondering exactly what the hiring process may be and what might constitute a second interview.  Maintaining my practiced outward demeanor of cool and calm, I reach out and grip her fingers in a brief handshake.

Valerie Woods, she says smoothly.  It’s a pleasure, Mr. Reddick.

Oh, it will be, baby.

I had told her to look professional because I certainly don’t need any rumors getting started, and she has the attire down to a tee.  She’s dressed in a black, just-above-the-knee-length skirt, a button up white blouse, and an unbuttoned black blazer.  Her hair is up in a little bun on top of her head, but I can tell her hair is long and deep brown, which is what I had requested.  I want to see it all splayed out over her shoulders.  Fuck that—I want to see it all splayed out over my desk.  Maybe on the floor, too.  And in my chair.  And on my couch…

Focus, Reddick.

The boots, though…Well, I don’t know much about women’s fashion, but they are way too fucking hot to be normal corporate attire.  With four-fucking-inch heels, they go up to the bottom of her knees, and they have this kind of gathered look about them—almost like they’re supposed to be pulled up farther, but she’s got them shoved down.  I can see just the very top of her calf, and I’m torn between wanting those boots ripped off so I can see her calves and wanting them up over my shoulders while I dive face first into her pussy.

All right, that definitely counts as focus, but not exactly what I need at the moment.

The door shuts, and Grace welcomingly removes herself from our presence while I make no pretenses about looking Valerie Woods up and down.  When my eyes finally drift off her boots, to her breasts and eventually back to her face, she has one eyebrow cocked at me.

Cocked.  Hehe.

Do you approve? she asks, her eyebrow still raised.

So far, I say quietly.  Shall we get down to business?

"We need to get the business portion of this transaction done first, if you don’t mind."

Of course, Ms. Woods.

Here’s the bank account information.  She hands me a small business card with all the pertinent information written on it.  Once I verify the transfer, we can get started, all right?

Of course.

I pull out my phone, open up the appropriate app, and transfer ten grand from my personal account to the account listed on the card.  She pulls out her own phone and taps at the screen a few times.  After a moment, she looks back up at me.

All right, Mr. Julian Reddick, Valerie Woods says as she closes her phone, "you have paid a significant amount of money to my company to be in my company for the next sixty minutes.  The amount you have paid entitles you to anything you want, provided there is no actual injury or permanent marks left on my body when our transaction is complete.  For either vaginal or anal intercourse, you are to use a condom.  Other than that, pretty much anything goes.  Though it’s never happened with me, we do practice using common safe words just in case something is getting out of hand.  I’ll say ‘yellow’ if you’re doing something I don’t want, and I expect you to deviate from your current course.  If I say the word ‘red,’ and you don’t stop what you are doing, you’ll end up floating in the Hudson before the end of the week."

You said that over the phone, I remind her.  I hope to God I sound more confident than I feel, but something about having my life threatened in my own office is a little nerve-racking.

Just want to make sure everything is in order, Mr. Reddick.

I think I have the rules down, Ms. Woods.

In that case, let’s begin, Valerie says as she tilts her head like she’s examining me.  Do you know what you are looking to experience today?

Yes, I do, I respond.  I know exactly what I want, which is rather the point.

What would that be, then?

I want you to do everything I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it.  Don’t hesitate.  Don’t second guess.  Just obey me.

The change in her demeanor is instantaneous.

Of course, Mr. Reddick.

Take your hair down.

Her slender arms reach up behind her head, and she pulls at a couple of pins.  Her hair cascades around her, and I immediately step forward and run my hands through it.  It’s soft and silky, and she manages to give me a sweet, shy glance through her lashes while I touch it.  I comb my fingers through it once more and then let it drop around her shoulders.

Open your blouse—the top buttons only, I instruct her, and she complies immediately.  I can see her creamy smooth skin as she exposes it, button by button, until just the top part of her breasts and a lacy, white bra are visible.  Stop right there.

She does.

Take that skirt off, I command.  Panties, too—if you are wearing any.

Again, she is completely compliant, and I’m getting so fucking hard, I’m not so sure the recent masturbation was worth the effort.  She reaches behind her back, and a moment later, her skirt is dropping off her hips and getting caught on the edge of her come-fuck-me boots.  She blushes—fucking blushes—and reaches down to release the fabric.  The skirt falls to the floor.  She is wearing panties but no stockings.  The panties are white like her bra with a little lace scattered here and there.  They are crotchless, but she starts taking them down as well—just as she is instructed.

I feel like I could come just watching her strip.

The panties get caught on the boots as well, and this time the fabric isn’t so cooperative.  The panties snag the decorative buckle on the side of the boots, and she is blushing again.  She almost loses her balance as she tries to dislodge them.

Stop, I tell her—and again, her obedience is instant.  I fucking love it, control freak that I am.  Take the boots off before you fall on your ass.

If you wish, she says softly.  She nearly falls again but manages to pull the damn things off before I give up and offer to help.  I do smirk a bit—I can’t help it—when she looks back up at me.  Again, she manages to blush and look completely shy and uneasy with herself.  I might call it cute, but in her current position, it just doesn’t fit.  The panties, boots, and skirt are now piled up on my office floor, and she stands upright again, her completely bare pussy exposed to my wandering eyes.

Fucking gorgeous.

Open your blouse some more.

Yes, sir.

Oh, yeah—I like the sound of that.

A lot of women just don’t buy into this kind of subservience, and I don’t care—I like it.  It’s just one more reason I don’t date.

She works a couple more buttons before I tell her to stop again.

Does that bra unclasp in the front?

Yes, sir—just as you asked.

Release it.

She does, and her breasts are now more exposed to me but still not completely.  It’s much like when one of the hot, young women execs has a low-cut blouse, and I find myself trying to peek around the edge to see what there is to see.  Part of each nipple is visible, and I find myself licking my lips.

I want you on your knees, I tell her and feel myself grow impossibly harder as she drops down in front of me, her eyes looking up and gazing at me with practiced adoration.  Her tongue sweeps over her bottom lip.  I take a step forward, and her head is perfectly aligned with my crotch.

Use your mouth, I tell her.  Over my pants—kiss it.

She slides closer on her knees, her eyes still on mine as she leans forward slightly and places her hands on the outsides of my thighs.  She licks her bottom lip and stares at me through her lashes.  She arches her back slightly, and I can see just the slightest edge of a nipple still tucked away at the edge of her partially open shirt.

She starts at the tip, glancing down only once before placing a closed-mouthed, lip-glossed peck right on the head.  She licks her lips again before she tilts her head and kisses my shaft—open-mouthed—all the way down to my balls.

Good girl, I murmur.  She kisses back up to the tip, emitting hot breath from her mouth along the way.  When she’s done, she stops and looks up at me.

May I see you? she asks, and her voice is quiet and demure.  I would really like to see you, Mr. Reddick…please?

Fuck, she is good.

Unfasten my belt, I command as I loosen my tie.  I’m not about to let her know she’s getting to me.  I never let anyone know when they manage to get under my skin—in any way.  She is not going to be an exception.  Use your mouth.

She bites down into the Italian leather, and I wonder if it’s going to leave a mark.  I rather hope it does because I could use a souvenir.  She tilts and twists her head to the side, deftly pulling at the buckle until it’s hanging haphazardly from the loops of my suit pants.

Now the rest.  I pull the tie from around my neck and toss it casually onto my coffee table.

Without being instructed, she uses her teeth to release the button and pull down my zipper.  Her chin runs along my length as she does, and I have to fight back the urge to groan as she slowly runs her nose back up my shaft when she’s done with the zip.  I reach down and push the pants and my boxers from my hips as her eyes grow discernibly wide.

Yeah, I’m not paying for this because my dick is small.

Do you want it? I ask her.

Yes…please, Mr. Reddick…Please let me suck your cock.

My breathing is becoming more difficult to control, and the feeling is a little concerning.  I lick my lips—already wondering what her pussy tastes like—and I want her enough that I’m feeling a little unnerved.  I don’t like feeling unnerved—not in the slightest.  I want to control the situation…control myself…control her.  Too many things in my life weren’t the results of my decisions, and I need to have power over this.  It has been so long since I was in the company of a woman that I’ve forgotten how easy it is to lose oneself to the moment.  I need to bring myself back on top, as it were.

No, I say definitively.  Lick it, whore.

Her eyes tighten at the corners—only a very small amount, but I notice it.  She doesn’t like the word, and I find that somewhat interesting.  Still, she doesn’t hesitate, and I watch her tongue run first over her lips and then reach out of her mouth as far as it will go.  She tilts her head slightly to one side, ducks a little lower, and runs her tongue from my balls all the way up to the tip.  Her eyes close slightly, and she moans softly.

Oh, fuck.

She curls her tongue over the head of my cock, raises herself up a little more on her knees, and licks all the way back to the base.  She places her tongue flat against the side of the shaft, licks back to the head, swirls her tongue around twice, and finally ends with a quick flick over the slit, capturing the pre-cum.  She moves to the other side, back to base…back to tip…swirl…flick.

Sweet Jesus.

Now you can suck it, I tell her as I mentally brace myself.

Her lips mold over it without hesitation, and the feeling of her warm mouth encompassing me is nearly my undoing.  Shit, I have totally forgotten what a woman’s mouth feels like.  It’s so warm and wet and fucking delectable, and I have to stop myself from just grabbing her by the hair and fucking her mouth until I come.  She keeps her gaze trained on mine, maintaining that same look of utter adoration in her eyes as she slides her lips half way down my dick and then back to the tip with light, teasing, and seductive suction.

I watch my cock move in her mouth, in and out, just a handful of times before she leans in, the angle no longer allowing the fabulous view of her partially exposed tits, but I barely notice because right as I feel the head of my cock against the back of her throat, I feel her throat constrict around me, and she’s swallowing my cock.

Holy fucking shit.

I had some damn fine blowjobs in college, but nothing—nothing was like this.  I can’t help myself, and I let out a