A very Corporate Affair Book 1 (The Corporate Series) (18 page)

                 I felt strangely bereft, and very desperate for some relief, as my clit was actually starting to hurt from it's extreme arousal. "Stand upright, and come over here," he breathed, in his seductive baritone. I sashayed over, standing beside him with my legs slightly parted, and my clit throbbing wildly. He jumped off the bed, and pulled back the covers, before standing behind me. I could feel his breath on my shoulder, as his lips hovered before planting an oh-so-soft kiss, which ignited my entire skin. His fingers traced down my spine, down the crease of my buttocks, and dipped into my soaking sex.

                 "Lay on the bed, on your back," he whispered. I did as he asked, and watched at he opened his bedside cupboard and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and some condoms. I expected him to cuff my wrists, but he surprised me by clipping one cuff around my left

ankle, and the other to the bedpost.

                "No escaping for the next seven hours," he said, smiling sexily. I smiled back, relieved to see the condoms. He climbed onto the bed, and straddled my hips, sitting back to look down at me. His cock was resting on my tummy, still thick and heavy, even in it's semi flaccid state.

                 He traced featherlight circles around each of my nipples in turn, before leaning forward to kiss me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth, before pressing tiny kisses down my neck to suckle my nipple hard. I arched off the bed, and pressed my thighs together, trying to calm my aroused clitoris. Oscar moved off me and pulled my legs apart. With his fingers, he held my labia apart, causing my clit to be exposed.

                "Oh baby, I could tease you for hours," he taunted as he slid a finger inside me, carefully avoiding my exposed clitoris he slowly pumped his finger in and out, curling it slightly to massage my g spot. Before I had a chance to come, his finger stopped, and he moved back to straddle me again.

                "Keep your legs open," he ordered, "I want your mouth round my cock first. He slid forward to ease his hardening cock into my open mouth, teasing me with just the tip. I swirled my tongue over it, licking and sucking it, willing him to give me more.

                He began by just thrusting the very end of his cock into my welcoming mouth, the thrusts getting deeper and deeper, until it was a struggle to get my lips around the thick shaft, and I could taste his pre-come. He pulled away, making me whimper, and turned his attention back to my pussy, teasing it, lightly tapping my desperate clit, until I was practically convulsing with need.

                "Please Oscar, I really need you to fuck me, please," I begged shamelessly, writhing and tugging on the handcuff round my ankle. I even tried to slip my hand down to bring myself off, but he caught my wrists and pinned them above my head, kissing me deeply, as I writhed with need.

                He held my wrists as he continued his sensual torment, tracing his tongue down to my breast, and nibbling at my nipple gently with his teeth.  

                "I'm going to fuck you now, but you're not allowed to come. Understand?"
Fat chance of that!

                "I'll try," I panted. He rolled on a condom, and positioned himself between my legs.

                He nudged into me slowly, and in my sensitised state, I felt every ridge of his cock as he stretched me inside, filling me, easing the aching his teasing caused. He stopped.

                "Don't come," he reminded me. If he'd have taken a deep breath at that moment, I would have lost control. He stayed still for a few more moments, then began to pound me at a primal, aggressively fast pace, pinning my hips to the bed with his hands.

                I came with a scream, my orgasm so intense that I saw stars. He ignored me as I lay pulsing and convulsing around him as he continued to fuck me into next week.

                As my orgasm began to subside, he swivelled his hips and changed angles to allow his cock to rub repeatedly over my g spot. Another orgasm began brewing, and I barely had time to take a breath before it overwhelmed me, and I came again, arching my back off the bed.

                 "Dirty little slut, coming all over my cock. Your filthy cunt is dripping all over me. That hungry little cunt is milking my big cock, it's so greedy for big cock. You want all the boys to come and look at your cunt? Queue up to service it? All of them to fuck you hard, rub their cocks inside you till all you can do is drip cunt juice over them and come over and over. Is that what you like? Them all wanting to look at your dirty little clit?"

                 Then I came again, so hard it hurt. My insides clenching with such force that I cried out. Oscar came with a shout, pressing into me, as we both shuddered and tensed. He rested his forehead on mine as we both recovered from our explosive orgasms, then gave me a chaste kiss before gently pulling out of me, and flopping down on the bed beside me.

                "I do believe you came, naughty girl," he said as he nuzzled my neck.

                "It wasn't my fault," I said, "it was that big cock of yours did it." He seemed pleased, and I felt him smile against my neck.

                 "Well, this big cock needs a few minutes to recover, then we're going to see if he can make you scream again. We have all night, remember."

                "I've never come three times before, I'm not sure if I can again." I said, wondering if he was going to unclip my ankle. I felt sleepy, sated, and a bit drunk.

                 "We'll just have to find out. I have a vibrator to help," he replied.

                 "Can I ask you something?"

                 "Of course."

                 "Why haven't you ever gone down on me?"

                 Oscar shifted back to look at me. "I just don't like it. Does that bother you?"

                 "It's a little strange."

                 "Don't take it personally. I've never liked it. Just a quirk of mine."

                 "Like the shoe fetish?" I kissed the tip of his nose.

                 "The shoe fetish is a big quirk of mine," he smiled, "can I take you shoe shopping? I'd love to buy you some Laboutins or Jimmy Choos, then fuck you when you're wearing them."

                 "Hmm, I think I'd like that," I said, more excited at the prospect of the shopping than the sex. I stretched lazily, and turned to face Oscar, running my hand over his lean ribs. " I'm still horny for you, ready for round two yet?"

                "I thought you were meant to be the sex slave, you demanding little girl," murmured Oscar, tweaking my nipple before reaching over for another condom.

                Round two proved to be rather passionate lovemaking. With my ankle still shackled to the bed, we stuck to missionary, Oscar holding me tight, and wringing every last drop of pleasure from me. He even managed to squeeze the elusive fourth orgasm out of me, pressing the vibrator to my clit as his cock massaged me inside.

                Finally sated, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled the covers over us, and fell asleep. I lay there awhile in the dark, contemplating how far I'd come from the humble council flat. I'd spent many years worrying about not fitting in, or my accent and background holding me back, and yet here I was, laying next to my beautiful lover, in a castle on a hill. I held that thought as I drifted off with a smile on my face. 

Chapter 13

               
Damn the curse of the earlybird,
I thought, when I awoke at six. I looked around for the key to the cuff round my ankle, and found it on the bedside table. Oscar was out for the count, his sculptured lips slightly parted, and his beautiful face relaxed and serene. I undid the handcuff, and rubbed my ankle before sliding out of bed, and padding over to the bathroom. I clipped my hair up, and took a quick, perfunctory shower, before dressing in jeans and a fitted t shirt. I slipped out of the room, and went in search of the kitchen.

                 The castle was enormous, and it was difficult to get my bearings with the numerous corridors. I found my way back to the garden room, and carried on down that hallway, trying to remember Oscar's drunken directions from the night before. I tried the next door along from the garden room, which turned out to be a store cupboard. Carrying on, I found his study. It looked very similar to his office at work. A vast, mahogany desk dominated the room, flanked by three large bookcases which held a mixture of

biographies and books on business and investment theory.

                 I switched on the computer, and picked up the article that Lady Golding had left for me. The handwriting was pretty awful, but decipherable, and the rest of the newsletter had already been badly typed by Marion. I placed it back on the desk, and went in search of the kitchen.

                I pushed open a door, and found a large, rather old fashioned kitchen, with wooden cupboards, and a huge, wooden table in the centre. A middle aged woman, with her grey hair piled into a bun, stood at the sink.

                 "Good morning, I'm Elle, I hope you don't mind if I make myself a cup of tea," I said.

                 "Mrs Dunton, pleased to meet you. I'll make it for you, which tea do you prefer?" She dried her hands and filled the kettle, before placing it on a vast aga to boil. I asked for English breakfast.

                 "Are you the cook here?"

                 "Yes dear, I do breakfasts and lunches. There are three of us altogether, but I'm an early riser, so prefer to do the morning shift," she said pleasantly, "you're up early."

                 "Always am. I'm an early bird too. I promised Lady Golding I'd help with her newsletter, so I thought I'd get on with that. It was a late night last night, so I expect the others will be having a lay in."

                 "Shall I bring your tea along to the study?"

                 "That would be lovely, if you don't mind that is."

                 "Not at all. You go and get settled, and I'll bring it as soon as the kettles boiled."

                 I went back to the study, and pulled up the word program. Marion had been typing on normal A4, in portrait, so I started with that. Within five minutes, Mrs Dunton arrived with a tray holding a teapot, cup and saucer, and the other accompaniments. She placed it on the desk and watched me type.

                "Don't you type fast? Are you trained in secretarial?"

                "No, but I do it all day, every day, so I'm as fast as a good secretary. Have you worked here long?" I stopped typing, and poured my tea.

                "Goodness, almost 45 years. Don't know where the time goes. Started as a maid when I was sixteen, and the cook back then trained me up to work in the kitchen."

                "It's a beautiful place to work. I'm hoping Oscar will show me around the gardens today."

                "The gardens are very special. Make sure he shows you the white garden, it's at it's best right now." She smiled kindly, and left before I could pump her for information about Oscar.

                 I went back to the newsletter and finished the article, spellchecked it, and read through it. Some of the Latin names looked a bit wrong, so I pulled up the RHS website, and checked them, altering the spelling of two. I looked over Marion's sheets, which were littered with spelling mistakes and typos, and decided to re-type them so that the newsletter would all be in the same font. Another half hour later, I was prettying it all up with some nice heading fonts, and experimenting with different leaflet formats, before printing off three different options for Lady Golding.

                 I was just clipping the papers together when she swept into the room, "Mrs Dunton said you were in here. Did you manage to work Oscar's computer?" I handed her the finished newsletters.

                "I didn't know how you wanted it to look, so I gave you three different options," I said, smiling as she perused the papers.

                 "Oh these are superb," she declared, shocking me to the bone, "no spelling mistakes either, for a change, oh, hang on, the reverend spelt 'jonquil' differently."

                 "I checked that on the RHS website, and corrected it," I admitted, "I didn't know it meant daffodil, but my Latin is good enough to spot dodgy spelling."

                "Excellent. I'll have the driver take these into town tomorrow for printing. They'll be ready in a fortnight."

                 "I can email your chosen design to them to save a journey," I offered. She looked incredulous.

                 "Let me get more tea, and I'll sit and choose one." Lady Golding walked off in search of Mrs Dunton, and I marvelled at how different she was in daylight.

                 She returned after a few minutes, and sat at the desk, opposite me, looking through the three formats. "Which one do you think?"

                "The A4 portrait style," I said, reaching over to show her which one I meant, "what's the name of your printer?" I opened the web browser, and noting that she couldn't see the screen, clicked on the history. The usual BBC news, Facebook, and a few bouncy boobs porn sites were listed, but nothing of real interest, apart from a visit to narcotics anonymous two weeks ago. I quickly closed the history and typed the name of the printer into the search engine.

                 It took five minutes to order the newsletter, and attach the file, send it and pay using my PayPal account. Lady Golding was clearly delighted to have the problem solved by 8.30 am.

                 "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night," she said suddenly. I sipped my tea, and regarded her intently.

                "I understand your being suspicious of Oscar's girlfriends. There's a lot of wealth in your family, a lot to protect. I get that. In my defence, I didn't know about it when Oscar pursued me. I thought he worked in a bank."