Falling into Black (2 page)

"Me?" I asked, my voice
breathless.

"Good. And do you know why you're
getting this punishment, Ms. Jones?" he asked and stepped close to me- so
close his minty breath blew across my cheek.

"Because -- because I bumped into
Mr. Black," I said, lowering my head. Just looking at him made this whole
situation almost unbearable.

How could I have been so clumsy? So
stupid?

Shame burned across my entire body –
shame and lust.

He nodded. "Now bend over the desk,
and put your hands behind your back."

I did what I was told, my whole body on
fire.

Would this get me the job? God, I hoped
so.

Suddenly, his body pressed against mine.
The thick bulge in his pants nudging against my full ass cheek. Then he grabbed
the rope and wound it around my hands, tightening it so I couldn't move, but
not tight enough that it cut off any circulation. Each wrap sent jolts of
electric excitement through my veins.

"Mmm," he moaned in my ear and
grabbed the paddle from the desktop. "Should I leave your skirt down or
pull it up, Ms. Jones?"

My pussy flooded with juices.

"Pull it up, Mr. Black," I
panted and pressed my cheek to the warm wood of the desk.

His hands gripped my round thighs,
yanking the gray material until it was bunched around my waist. Then his long
fingered hand ran across my white lace panties, plucking at them and rubbing
the scratchy material against my skin.

"You always wear panties like this,
Ms. Jones?"

"Sometimes, sir," I said.

When was he going to get on with it?

"Look at you. You're so impatient. I
think you need an extra punishment for that kind of insolence."

"Yes, Mr. Black."

Without a word he swung the paddle, and
it connected sharply with my tender cheek. The hot sting seared my flesh --
turned my blood into lust-hot lava. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and
he swung again -- the second swing landing on the same bruised cheek.

The paddle whooshed through the air and
landed again.

Whoosh.

Smack.

Whoosh.

Smack.

Each blow harder and sharper than the
last. My whole body trembled -- writhing on the smooth wooden desk. My fingers
clenching and unclenching in their tight binds. But there was no escape. None
whatsoever from Mr. Black, the paddle, or my body's passionate embrace of the
situation.

Another smack, and I moaned -- my voice
foreign to my own ears.

"That’s twenty, Ms. Jones," Mr.
Black huffed.

I panted too, though I don't know why.
But I felt breathless and eager for more.

"Please," I moaned wiggling my
ass. "Please, punish me some more, Mr. Black."

He chuckled. "Oh, are you a little
slut, Ms. Jones?"

How was I supposed answer that? Did he
want me to say yes or no?

"I just need to be punished."

His fingers plucked at my panties again.
"Yes. Yes, I think you do. You really like this," he said and rubbed
his hands over the wet mound of my sex. "You like this a lot."

Suddenly, he pulled my panties down
around my knees, rubbing his slender fingers over my bruised bottom. Pinching
at the tender flesh, twisting it until I cried out in agonized delight.

"Turn around, Ms. Jones," he
ordered, and I obeyed without a thought.

He looked me over and pushed me back on
the desk. I fell with a slight oomph and stared at him.

His bright blue eyes burned into my hazel
ones, and he reached forward and ripped down the front of my bra. My breasts
bounced free, the pink nipples already hard and at attention. He plucked at
one, turning it painfully to the side.

It burned -- blossoming bright red under
his cruel fingers. I spread my legs wide, hoping he'd stick something inside
me. Something like his aching cock.

Yeah. That's what I wanted!

Then he grabbed the other nipple and
squeezed it mercilessly, watching my face the whole time. I open my mouth and
moaned, twitching on the desk for his next attack. The next glorious rush of
pleasure pain.

"You are an extra naughty girl, Ms.
Jones. Your body is just filthy and in need of discipline."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
What was he going to do to me next? Fuck me?

Please fuck me!

He grabbed the paddle and turned it
around to its blunt rounded handle. The thing was thick, about the same girth
as a good-sized cock, and at least six inches long. He smirked when he looked
at my spread legs. The dripping ache of my sex. Ready and waiting just for him.
Then he rubbed the end over my moist clit, the baby soft touches exciting every
nerve in my groin. I moved my hips, trying to get a harder touch, but he pulled
it back and wagged his finger at me.

"You need to learn patience, Ms.
Jones."

I forced myself to sit still and held my
breath. After a moment, he smiled and rubbed the handle over my needy hole. The
wood had been carved smooth, the rounded head nudging inside me easily,
although my pussy gripped it tight.

"Look at how hungry you are,"
he said.

My only reply was a moan as he moved the
handle slowly in and out, each thrust an eternity of agony. It took all my
concentrated effort to sit still, my hands gripped tightly behind my back, my
legs spread as wide as possible. My breasts heaved, sweat trickling over my
skin. And Dorian Black -- Dorian Black fucking me with a paddle handle.

Slowly he removed the handle and brought
it to his lips, lapping my juices from the smooth wood. Without a word he ran a
finger over my slit, slipping it inside my aching entrance.

Then he slipped in a second finger,
moving them in and out more ferociously. His thumb tickled my clit and a third
finger join the fray. Slamming into me with an intensity that made me scream.

It was impossible to sit still. I rolled
my hips into each thrust, and stared into his intense blue eyes.

Why was he doing this? Did he really want
me? Chubby Alicia Jones?

He grabbed a handful of my breasts,
squeezing and slapping them in turn with the finger fucking. My whole world
blurred, lost in the passion of the moment. The building pleasure tightening in
my cunt with each ruthless thrust.

Moaning and twitching, I came. My pussy
squeezing his fingers, my juices dripping over his hand as he urged them deeper
and deeper inside.

Sweat ran down his temple, his hair
somehow ruffled. Panting, he pulled his hand free and stared at me, naked and
satisfied on his desk. Without a word he untied my hands, then he walked in the
bathroom, and I heard the water come on.

Suddenly embarrassed at my state of undress,
I pulled up my panties and bra and fixed my skirt.

What the hell just happened? And why
couldn’t I control myself?

Mr. Black walked out drying his hands,
and he glanced at me coolly. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but his eyes
were as distant as before.

"I expect my things dry cleaned by
tomorrow morning, Ms. Jones," he said and picked up his phone. "Yes,
Ms. Anderson. I found my assistant. It's Alicia Jones. Send the rest of the
young ladies home, please."

I stared at him -- Dorian Black -- my new
boss.

"I got the job?"

"Yes, Ms. Jones," he said.
"I expect you here by eight a.m. sharp. Got that?"

"Yes, Mr. Black. But what about--"

He held up a hand to silence me. "We
won't be discussing that, Ms. Jones. You're my personal assistant. You'll do whatever
I ask or you won't last very long. Have you got that?"

My cheeks burned in shame.

How could I've been so stupid? Of course
it wouldn't mean anything.

But I still needed the job.

"Yes, Mr. Black."

"You can take a clean shirt out of
that closet, but bring it back laundered by tomorrow," he said and
pointed.

I followed his directions and moved
towards his office doors after I’d pulled on a white man’s shirt.

"And Ms. Jones," he said as I
was about to leave. "Remember to behave or I'll have to punish you
again."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my
skin itching for something I never knew I wanted. "Yes, Mr. Black."

 What kind of punishment would he
give me next time? I’d have to find out.

* * *

I threw the dress shirt
on my bed and frowned. It wouldn't do! Not for today and the big meeting with
the shareholders. I had to look sexy and smart -- something fitting the CEO’s
personal assistant.

If not, I had no idea
what Mr. Black might do to me.

I'd been working for
Dorian Black -- the handsome CEO billionaire of Black Inc. -- for a little over
two weeks, but I still didn't understand his mercurial moods. Sometimes he
seemed perfectly pleasant, although that could change in a matter of seconds.
His expectations were high for himself and others, and it was almost impossible
to keep up.

I knew he was sick of
seeing the same five dress suits over and over again, but my wardrobe wasn't as
big as some of the other girls at the company. I couldn't afford designer everything,
after all.

Digging deep into the
back of my closet I pulled out a red dress. I usually used it as date dress –
an A-line number with a plunging V-neck to show off my full breasts while
hiding my full-sized hips and thighs.

It was strapless but not
too slinky- perfect for work the environment, especially if I put the black
blazer over it. My new black pumps and a swipe of red lipstick completed the look.

Now I only had to
contend with my wild brown curls. I always wore my hair back in a bun, but what
else looked professional?

I wanted to be a good
assistant. Scratch that -- I needed to be a good assistant and represent my
boss well, but I wasn't sure if I was doing that.

Ever since the first day
Mr. Black hired me, and that strange but alluring interview, I hadn't been able
to keep my mind off of the gorgeous billionaire. I mean, how could I?

The man bent me over his
desk and spanked me. The way he made my body feel was better than any other
man's touch.

No. I'm an idiot.

I don't know why he did
that to me, but he hadn't tried to touch me since. He probably had plenty of
other women -- classy, rich women to choose from. He wouldn't want a chubby and
broke assistant.

I frowned and bundled my
hair into a ponytail. It'd have to do. With one last quick look in the mirror,
I headed out the door and hoped I didn't make a fool out of myself at the
meeting.

Like usual, I grabbed a
coffee for Mr. Black and myself at the kiosk downstairs. He took his black no
sugar and one cream.

I wondered if you could
tell anything about a person by how they took their coffee? Would his be
unattainable? Or just unattainable for me?

 Oh well, it
doesn't really matter anyway, Alicia, it's not like you have a chance with him.

For once, the secretary
at the desk in the lobby didn't sneer at me when I walked by -- instead she
raised her eyebrows. Hopefully, that was a good sign.

Then I hopped into the
elevator and road it all the way up to the fiftieth floor. The CEO’s office and
some meeting rooms were the only things on that floor. I heard a rumor the rest
of the floor was dedicated to a secret penthouse suite, but that probably
wasn't true. Who would use it? Mr. Black? Then it occurred to me. Maybe he kept
it as a secret kinky sex dungeon?

The thought sent a rush
of heat to my panties, and I frowned.

I shouldn't get off at
work -- how unprofessional!

Stepping out the
elevator, I still glanced around. Where would the hidden penthouse suite be? I
didn't have very long to think about it. Mr. Black's office door stood open, and
he leaned against his desk -- the phone held to his ear and a frown on his gorgeous
face. I approached slowly, like an animal scared of getting caught in a
predator's gaze.

Too late
.

His bright blue eyes
fell on me, looking at me with keen calculation. His wavy black hair was brushed
back slick and his cheeks smoothly shaven. His immaculate Italian suit and finely
crafted leather shoes were perfectly clean. Like always, he looked like some
kind of Adonis – a god among men.

I carefully set the
coffee on his desk and moved to leave the room.

"Just get them to
me," he said and hung up the phone. "Alicia?"

"Yes, Mr.
Black?" I asked and turned around to face him.

His eyes traveled over
my red dress and black shoes, finally settling on my face. In the back of my
mind I hoped he liked my lipstick.