My Secretary, Her Fantasy

My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

My Secretary, Her Fantasy By Eve Langlais

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. My Secretary, Her Fantasy Copyright© 2010 Eve Langlais ISBN: 978-1-60088-601-0 Cover Artist: Sable Grey Editor: Jeff Curry All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone-press.com

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Chapter One The blindfold didn’t allow even the barest scrap of light through. He strained, listening, the only apparent sound the erratic pounding of his heart and harsh breathing. Yet, he could sense her standing nearby. Her unique fragrance teased his senses, a sensual aroma comprised of musky arousal and a sweet vanilla perfume. A feather-light caress dragged across his chest, and he shivered. The whispery touch returned lower this time. The sharp edge of her nail slid across his abdomen, which tensed while his cock ached, all the blood in his body having converged in it. It seemed like ages ago when she had smiled at him mischievously and said, “I want to tie you up and play.” He didn’t know a man alive who could have refused that seductive request. Eagerly, he’d complied, first locking his office door, then stripping. Isabelle, the most efficient and erotic of secretaries, had divested herself of clothing as well, taking off her blouse to reveal a lacy bra through which her sensitive nipples already poked. She let her pencil skirt drop to the floor and revealed the garters that held up her stockings. But the prize that had made his mouth go dry and his shaft jump like a puppet on a string was the view of her clean-shaven cunt gleaming already with moisture. Trusting in her, he had let her bind him to the chair, tethering his wrists to the armrests. He had only shuddered a little when she’d kicked his legs apart and bound them to the castors. But he’d let out an unmanly

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

whimper when she’d bound his tie over his eyes, the forced darkness amplifying every sound and touch. It was an erotic gesture that he feared would make him blow his load before he’d managed to please her. And he really wanted to please his mistress. She spoke not a word aloud, just randomly stroked his body, the unexpected caresses making him moan in need. She teased him with light strokes, sensitizing his skin, building his urgency until he found himself on the edge of begging. I don’t know if I can take anymore. A sudden weight on his lap as she straddled his legs startled him. His cock, like a pussy-seeking missile, twitched and strained towards the molten core it could sense. Bound and helpless, Grant held his breath as he waited for her to make her next move. Sharp pain made him cry out as she tweaked both his nipples with sharp nails. The pain hadn’t even faded when her hot mouth latched on first one then the other offended body part. The flicks of her tongue on his nubs made him tremble and moan. “Please.” He finally caved in to his desire and begged. The tweaking pain returned and didn’t leave as she hissed in his ear, “Please, what?” “Please, Mistress, let me pleasure you.” Soft hair tickled the skin of his neck, and her wet tongue licked the curve of his ear. Grant gritted his teeth and had to hold on tight not to come. She knew his weak spots so well. Her sweet weight moved off his lap, and he cried out with loss. Silence reigned, and he cocked his head, listening for her. Stockinged feet planted themselves on his thighs, and the chair he sat upon moved on its castors. Grant’s mouth went dry with anticipation, a thirst she quenched when she grabbed him by the hair and shoved his face into her sex. Grant eagerly sucked her, her juiciness always a source of bliss for him. He loved the feel of her pelvic muscles twitching as he delved his tongue into her moist channel. He loved flicking his tongue against her clit and hearing her cries. He even loved how tightly she held and pulled his hair, for it meant he brought her rapture. And rapture for his mistress meant wonderful things for him.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

He devoured her sweet pussy, wishing for a free hand so he could pump her with his fingers as he orally tortured her clit. Expertly, he brought her to the brink; he could feel it—her body taut with the tension that came before her orgasm. Faster, he worked her with only his mouth, imagining her face, even though he remained sightless behind his blindfold. She’d have her head tilted back at this point, her gorgeous hair tumbling about her shoulders and breasts. Her eyes would be closed and her lips wet from licking them. She might even nibble one as she tried to delay her pleasure. A shudder went through her body, and he stabbed his tongue deep inside her as she tumbled into ecstasy. Around his tongue, her muscles quivered, and her sweet cream coated him, filling his mouth. Grant almost came. He wanted to. But if he did, she would punish him. Such a hard choice—blissful punishment or rapturous pleasure. He didn’t know which he preferred more. Isabelle basked in her oral orgasm, her whole body shuddering. She’d needed a quick release for the activities she had planned for later, and Grant, as usual, knew his way around her pussy, delightfully so. Opening her eyes, she looked down at her slave—her boss, Grant. Such a powerful businessman in public, behind closed doors, he turned into her willing sub. She had introduced him to so many new delights—bondage, spanking, a bit of pain soothed with pleasure and more recently, minor anal play. She loved having him at her mercy, but even with all he’d capitulated to, she still hadn’t fulfilled two of her major fantasies. But one of them was close, real close, and she shivered as she slid off his desk to kneel between his legs. Time to return the oral favor. She blew softly, and his cock jerked, the swollen head glistening with pre-cum. One manicured nail traced an invisible line from the base of his cock to the tip, where she rubbed the clear drop that pearled. Grant sucked in a breath, and his muscles bulged as he strained at his bonds to no avail. Isabelle had learned the art of ropes from a master, and struggle as he might, Grant would remain her prisoner. The blindfold added an extra level to the experience; she knew that from experience. Blind, every touch and caress seemed multiplied a hundred times. Oh

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

how she loved that helpless feeling of anticipation. Dipping her head, she lapped at the head of his cock, tasting the salt of his pre-cum. She dug her nails into his thighs, knowing how the slight pain would amplify his bliss. She braced herself as she inhaled him into her mouth, nice and deep. He pulsed like a living thing on her tongue. How exciting. She slid back up the length of his cock and gave a hard suck at his bulb. He gave a strangled moan as she swirled her tongue around the tip. She took her mouth off his cock, knowing the cooler air on his wet skin would drive him wild. She licked two of her fingers and took his rod back between her lips. With his cheeks spread, she slid her fingers along the sensitive skin below his sac and probed at the hole that belonged solely to her. He tightened for a moment as she poked her fingers at his anus, but as she took him deep into her throat, he sighed and relaxed. Her digits penetrated his tight ring, and she worked them in far enough to stroke him. He groaned, and she looked up. The cords in his neck stood out, and his head leaned back. Close, so close. Increasing her pace, she sucked hard and fast at his cock while her fingers worked in and out of his ass, fucking him. She loved the tight feel of him squeezing around her, hearing his short pants as he drew closer and closer to his orgasm, even though he fought to hold on. She felt him come before he even yelled, the pulsing of his cock on her tongue preceding the release of his semen. Feeling benevolent tonight, she swallowed his juices and drained him until he cried out, “Enough. Please, Mistress.” Smiling, Isabelle unfastened his ankles then his wrists. She left the blindfold for last and pulled it off with a flourish, his dazed look making her horny all over again. They didn’t speak as they dressed, but when Grant helped her into her overcoat, Isabelle knew she could wait no longer. “You can’t come over tonight,” she said, peering into her compact instead of at him. She had other plans tonight, decadent ones that Grant just wasn’t ready for—yet.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Chapter Two Her words took him aback. He always came over on Fridays. It was the start to their weekend of debauchery, and he didn’t like or understand the sudden change in the routine they’d fallen into over the past month since they had begun their office affair. “Why not?” He didn’t like the plaintive tone in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. His whole world now revolved around his lush secretary and her desires—even the perverted ones she’d introduced him to and that he, to his shame, loved. “I have plans. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” She finally looked at him, and he could read nothing in her expression. He didn’t like it one bit. “Plans with who?” Jealousy gripped him. Is she meeting another man? I’ll fucking kill him. She’s mine. “Are you questioning me?” she asked, her gaze burning with ire. “Remember who’s in charge of this relationship.” She stood up to him, and while short in stature, she made up for it in presence. He cringed before her look and the crushing grip she had on his cock and balls, one that to his disbelief made him flush in desire. “Sorry, Mistress,” he gasped as she tightened her hold. “I will see you tomorrow at dinnertime.” Where she was sure to make him pay for this transgression. “That’s better,” she said with a wicked smile as she released her hold on him. “Until that time, I want you to think about how I’m going to punish you for your temerity. And tonight, while you think about me

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

giving you what a bad boy deserves, you may stroke yourself, but…” Isabelle stepped back up to him and leaned up, her lips poised a hairsbreadth from his. “Do. Not. Come.” She said the last word against his lips before she kissed him. Grant embraced her back with fervor, the hot swirl of her tongue driving him wild. But, too quickly, she pushed him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” A swing of her hips as she walked out the door, and Grant found himself alone, well not entirely—he had a hard-on and naughty thoughts to keep him company. ***** Isabelle took a cab home and hurriedly showered. She didn’t want to be late or her master would punish her, and while usually she enjoyed his punishments, it had been a while since she’d served him. Andrew’s business had kept him out of town for almost a month, and she’d missed his commanding presence. The short tryst at the office earlier had done little to quell her excitement. Grant had taken some of the edge off with his mouth, but the wetness between her thighs testified to her anticipation of the main event still to come. A lukewarm shower did little to calm her down. Of course it didn’t help that her hand, under the guise of soaping, languorously trailed over her voluptuous body. But, she daren’t dally; Andrew waited for her at the club. She toweled herself briskly and blow-dried her hair. She then slipped into his favorite ensemble, that of a belly dancer, the outfit consisting of diaphanous harem pants with a matching top that left her midriff bare and which clearly displayed her prominent, dark nipples. She pasted a jewel in her navel and around one ankle placed a bracelet of tiny silver bells. When he brought her to the trembling point, the tinkling sound drove him nuts in a good way. Her hair, she tied in a high pony tail. Heavy eyeliner around her eyes, blood-red lipstick, and she looked good enough to eat—or spank. Actually, with Andrew, her master, she never knew what he’d do next. Although, she knew what he wanted and

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

longed to give it to him. At least she would as soon as she had Grant ready. Her gift to her master? A threesome—a fully interactive one with her and another male, one where Andrew would top them both. Isabelle shuddered. She wished she could hurry Grant’s training along, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He was the one they both wanted to join them in their erotic ménage. Andrew wanted a virgin to the scene, but one who imbued power in the real world. Not to mention, he had to be attractive and virile. Grant fit the bill on all accounts. Oh the fun that awaited. Thinking about her training with Grant made her recall how she’d become a slave herself, but only for one man—Andrew, her father’s right-hand man and head of the company accounting department. They’d first met when she’d come to work for her father the previous year after her marriage of ten years ended in divorce. She’d been assigned to Andrew as his personal secretary. She still remembered her first day and her reaction when she’d walked into his office to meet him. She’d creamed her panties at first sight. Powerful, charismatic and handsome, Andrew with his muscular build and chiseled face embodied her ideal male. She liked the fact he was older, a man of experience who with one look had made her pussy clench with need while his knowing smile had made her legs almost give out from under her. That first week, Andrew didn’t lay a hand on her. He didn’t need to. His sexual deviousness ran to other ploys. Things kept falling off his desk, and he’d ask her to pick them up, his look almost daring her to refuse. Isabelle, however, did as she was told, plus some. Like a practiced tart, she pushed her ass up in the air every time she bent over. By the third day, her skirt got shorter, and she stopped wearing panties; they kept getting too wet. Besides, she enjoyed the erotic thrill, knowing he watched. His hooded eyes and half smile relayed how much he enjoyed their office games. Her second week as his secretary, she bent over to pick up yet another fallen pen when she felt him come up behind her. His strong, sure

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

hands gripped her hips, and with a single thrust, he sheathed himself inside her. Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, but all that emerged was a moan as he pumped her with his thick, long cock. When his fingers found her clit and stroked it, Isabelle came hard, and her quick orgasm resulted in her first punishment. “Naughty girl,” he admonished. “Don’t you know you aren’t allowed to come until I’ve found my pleasure? Now get on your knees and fix this.” Shocked at his words, she opened her mouth to protest, but he growled at her. “I did not give you permission to speak. Get on your knees now before I decide to really punish you for your behavior.” Isabelle, to her mortification, flushed with arousal. He ordered her, and she wanted to obey. She dropped to her knees, even though a part of her breathlessly wondered what he meant by punishment. Face to face with his cock, covered in her juices, she hesitated, though. His hands in her hair quickly convinced her otherwise, the sharp pain in her scalp making her hiss. She licked his shaft, cleaning her juices off of him and, to her surprise, not minding it. Taking him into her mouth, she sucked him hard, her enthusiasm evident. She found a rhythm and bobbed her head with vigor. Several minutes later, with a low groan, he shot his cream into her mouth. Unable to move away, she ended up swallowing her first load of cum. Done, he calmly zipped up and wished her a good evening. Isabelle went home that night shocked but more aroused than she’d ever been. Her arousal and reaction to his dominant, sexual mastery of her didn’t stop her from mentally cursing him for treating her like some office slut. An office slut who couldn’t help touching herself and rubbing her swollen clit as she remembered what they’d done. Flushed and wanting, Isabelle inserted two fingers into her aching pussy while her other hand stroked her sensitive nub. Panting with need, she pleasured herself and came, a minor orgasm that still left her aching for something more. The next day, she wore an ankle-length skirt and cotton panties to work. She’d decided, while she tossed and turned unable to sleep, that she wouldn’t allow him to treat her like his personal whore. Giving me orders, just who the fuck does he think he is?

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

When she walked into Andrew’s office, he cocked a brow, but said nothing. Disappointment made her sullen. She’d expected something, anything, from him. But, no, he ignored her all day, and Isabelle sat miserably at her desk until quitting time arrived. At five o’clock, she prepared to leave. Andrew stuck his head out of his door. “Isabelle, would you mind staying a few more minutes to help me with something?” Nodding, she grabbed her pen and notepad before walking into his office. The door shut behind her, and she heard the click of the lock as it engaged. Her heart sped up, and her nipples hardened inside her brassiere. “Are you upset with me?” Andrew asked, his body brushing up against her back. “N-no, sir,” she stuttered, distracted by his closeness. “Why would you say that?” He chuckled against her ear, his warm breath shooting tingles throughout her body. “Liar.” His hands came to rest on her waist, and his lips nuzzled her neck. “I don’t like it when you hide your body from me. Strip.” Andrew moved away from her and went to sit in his chair behind the desk. He watched her with a gleam of amusement. “I am not getting undressed,” she said in a breathy voice. Her body, though, seemed to like the idea, for the crotch of her panties grew damp. He quirked a brow at her and smiled, a devastating, masculine smile that made her knees weak. “Are you defying me?” “I’m your secretary, not your slut.” She was determined not to let him dictate to her even as every inch of her trembled with arousal. “You are mine.” He rose with a purposeful look. “You now belong to me, Isabelle, and if I say strip, I mean strip.” “No.” Isabelle held her breath, waiting. Why she fought him, she didn’t know, for in truth, she wanted to get naked and wild with him. “Bad girl.” He shook his head. “You’ve earned yourself a punishment.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Isabelle feigned pulling away, but they both knew she only played. She wanted him; her short breaths and hooded eyes gave it away. But when instead of kissing her, he bent her over his lap, she struggled in earnest. “What are you doing?” She bucked on his lap, but he held her easily down and even managed to pull down the zipper to her skirt. He pulled at her loose skirt until it pooled in a fabric puddle at her feet. He ran a finger around the elastic waist of her white cotton panties and chuckled. “From now on, you will only wear thongs or nothing at all under your short skirts.” “Or else what?” she said snarkily, not liking the fact that her body betrayed her. Since when did she enjoy being manhandled? Cool air met the bare skin of her buttocks as her panties followed the path of her skirt to the floor. “Or this,” he replied. Crack! The sound of his big hand hitting the tender flesh of her ass made her yelp. “Let go of me. What do you think you’re doing?” Smack! The sharp pain was followed up with a light caress between her thighs that sent a jolt of desire right through her. “Bad girls need to be punished,” Andrew said very matter-of-factly as he slapped her ass, alternating cheeks and randomly delving between them to stroke her wet cunt. And, oh, it felt good. It made a girl want to think up ways of being bad just to enjoy that type of punishment. Isabelle had heard of spanking before as foreplay, but she’d never imagined she’d like it. Yet, as his hand continued to sting her cheeks and slide across her nether lips, her excitement mounted, and when he finally stopped, she whimpered. “Do you like that, my sweet angel?” Isabelle moaned and waggled her bottom in reply. But the spanking and stroking did not resume. Instead, he pulled her upright and, with his hands on her waist, lifted her to sit on his desk, the cool surface making her hiss as it made contact with her warm and stinging bottom. She quickly forgot her discomfort, though, when his thick cock probed at the opening of her sex.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

“Pull your legs up so your feet are on the desk, and keep them apart.” Isabelle did as ordered, the end result exposing her moist pussy. “Watch me fuck you,” he ordered. Eyelids heavy with desire, Isabelle looked down as he thrust into her. What an erotic sight. His thick shaft slid into her sex without resistance, her slick lips parting and welcoming him in. And the way he filled her up… Isabelle wanted to close her eyes, but his order had been clear. She stayed focused on his pumping of her cunt, long, slow strokes that made the pleasure build in her nice and slow. “Rub your clit.” Isabelle licked a finger and did as told, rubbing her moist digit against her swollen nub. He kept pumping into her wet sheath, grunting when she squeezed her pelvic muscles around him. She stroked herself faster, close to coming, but afraid—and not—of being punished again. “Do you want to come?” he asked, driving deep, increasing his pace. “Yes.” “Say ‘Let me come, Master.’” Isabelle didn’t hesitate. “Let me come, Master.” “Good girl. Scream for me.” She did, orgasming with a keening cry, her pussy convulsing in waves of bliss around his cock. A moment later, he came, spurting hot inside her. That idyllic moment had been nothing compared to what had come later. Looking back upon their relationship, she recognized how he’d eased her into the games he wanted to play—the spanking and pleasuring, the expected obedience when he ordered her around. But all of that hadn’t prepared her for the first time he took her to The Club. Not an imaginative name by any means, but inside, oh the fantasies and fetishes played within its walls…

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Chapter Three The first time Andrew took her to The Club, a true den of debauchery, she’d initially found herself shocked but ended up falling in bliss. Andrew had arrived at her place with a garment bag. “Strip,” he ordered, reclining in a low-slung chair. Isabelle untied the sash to her silken robe and let it fall to the floor, standing before him naked, her body trembling in anticipation. He stood and tweaked one of her nipples before grabbing the hanging garment bag. He unzipped it to show her what it held. “A maid’s outfit?” Isabelle giggled, but the look in Andrew’s eyes was anything but humorous. Under his smoldering gaze, she donned the black leather dress with its lace-up bodice and puff sleeves. She tied the white frilly apron around her waist and donned the white cap over pinned hair. He hadn’t provided panties, and conscious of this fact, she blushed when they entered the dark club, the booming music thrumming through her body. Then she saw what the other patrons wore—or didn’t—and realized she was dressed quite tame in comparison. Everywhere she looked, she saw skin—the wardrobes ranged from full leather suits to lingerie to nothing at all. Her pussy moistened, titillated by this visual tableaux. Andrew gripped her by the hand and guided her through the room set up as a lounge area with couches and tables where some people sat. Others knelt on the floor, heads bowed. Isabelle craned and stared wide-eyed and blushing at some of the things these people did out in the

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

open. At the shocking and yet highly titillating sight, Isabelle’s thighs grew sticky with her juices. Andrew, though, did not stop nor did he partake in the fun and games going on around them; he had another destination in mind. He led her through a curtained archway and into a torture chamber. Or at least that was her first impression. Later, she renamed it “the pleasure den,” but that first time, she balked. The screams and cries, both of pain and pleasure, hadn’t helped. “I want to leave.” She tried to pull her hand free. Andrew, however, tightened his grip. “Give me fifteen minutes.” He turned and wrapped his arms around her. “If you still want to go after fifteen minutes, then we shall.” Isabelle bit her lip. A part of her wanted to stay and experiment, her body wet and willing. But the proper girl in her that had been raised with vanilla sex notions hesitated. Surely, this type of sexual play was perverted—and painful. How could anybody enjoy it? She eyed the apparatus around her. A large X held a young man, spread-eagle, his face soft in pleasure as someone clad in leather dripped hot wax down his torso. She averted her gaze and found her attention caught by a woman, struggling over a large, almost naked, man’s knee. He held her down with one hand and, with his other, spanked her. And the odd part was when his hand connected, the woman stopped struggling and moaned, even arching her buttocks. Isabelle blushed, this being a scene she’d played many times with her own master. Her gaze flitted away to see more toys, some of which had people strapped to them. Then her gaze found the wall of tools, and her knees almost gave out. Andrew whispered in her ear, “See anything you like?” Isabelle shivered, for while some of the hanging implements confused her, others were only too obvious like the large dildos, a gift waiting to be unwrapped in their sterile bags of plastic. Leaving her standing still as a statue, Andrew walked over to that wall of toys, and stopping in front of the dildos, he paused before reaching to grab a midsized one. Instead of walking back to her, he

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walked over to a section of the room that was currently unoccupied. He didn’t look at her, didn’t call for her, and yet she found herself walking to him as if in a trance, fascinated despite her misgivings. She saw him strap the dildo to the back of what reminded her of a mechanical bull. The large blue phallus bobbed atop the wide back, and Isabelle swallowed hard. No, surely he doesn’t expect me to… “Get on.” Isabelle wanted to protest—there were people around, she wasn’t prepared, she…wanted to so bad. She slipped a foot into the stirrup, steadying herself with her hands on the cold back of the apparatus, and hesitated. “Get on there now, angel, or instead of pleasure, we’ll be visiting a section that’s more inclined towards pain.” Quickly, she scrambled up, her panty-less crotch sitting wetly on the bull, its smooth, wooden surface feeling odd against her nether lips. The phallus bobbed just in front of her groin. She knew what Andrew would order her to do next, and truthfully, the idea excited her, but she couldn’t help being conscious that they were in full view of others. Would they watch her? Would they find pleasure in seeing her? Oh god, she hoped so. “Sit on it.” Isabelle was already moving, lifting the short skirt of her maid’s uniform, and with her feet in the stirrup, she stood and moved forward, poising herself over the wide head of the dildo. Then she sat down and gasped. She hadn’t noticed the phallus’ add-on, but she felt it, a nub at the front that rubbed up directly against her clit. The rubber cock inside her stretched and filled her, bigger than she was used to, and to her pink-cheeked shame, she liked it. Startled, she looked up when the broad back of the mechanical bull began to move under her. Its slow gyration made the cock saddle she sat on move inside her and against her clit with erotically pleasurable results. “Oh,” she gasped, splaying her hands in front of her to stop herself from falling off, a move that drove the dildo in at a different angle and made her moan. She closed her eyes, the sensations coursing through her

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

making her forget where she was. A heavy weight settled behind her against her back and familiar hands cupped her breasts through the material of her dress. Andrew’s breath whispered against her ear. “Do you like that, my angel? The feel of that rubber cock fucking you?” Isabelle could only moan. “You know what I like? The audience.” Isabelle’s cheeks burned, and she kept her eyes closed, but his words ramped her pleasure up a notch. Cool air met her backside as he lifted her skirt. A wet fingertip probed at her anus, and Isabelle clenched her buttocks. The speed of the rocking bull increased, sending a myriad of sensations through her, and she relaxed. Andrew used that moment to slide his finger into her ass. She tightened up again, not sure she liked the odd sensation. Cold liquid dribbled down the crack of her butt, oily fluid that he used to pop a second finger inside her virgin hole. “No,” she murmured, his anal invasion distracting her from the bliss. But he ignored her, his fingers instead pulling and stretching her, and after a while, she forgot about protesting, the strange sensation of his fingers up her ass fading and giving way to the building pressure in her cunt. The peak of her orgasm built, the bucking motions of the bull driving the rubber cock deep into her while rubbing her clit. She barely noticed when his fingers slipped out of her anus, but she yelled when he replaced it with the head of his cock. He popped it in, and she went rigid. Kind of painful and definitely invasive, she tried to move forward, away from the alien presence in her ass, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept her anchored. “Push out against it,” he grunted even as he slid in a little farther. Isabelle shook her head, and the pressure built as he went deeper. “Push back.” He tightened his grip on her. Isabelle finally did as he said, and the discomfort eased. He stopped pushing into her, but she was very aware of his thick cock inside her—both cocks, real and rubber, penetrating her. The rapture built inside

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

her again, sudden and fierce. Of her own volition, she began moving with the bucking bull, gyrating against both cocks, driving them deep inside of her. The anal penetration that had felt so odd before turned pleasurable, and she rocked faster. Andrew grunted behind her as he drove in and out of her ass now with ease, his rhythm matching that of the dildo. When she came, she did so with a scream, her cunt muscles squeezing tight and spasming, wave after wave of bliss that left her limp, and still the bliss made her convulse. She dimly felt the hot spurt of liquid as Andrew found his release inside her. But way past cloud nine, all she could think of was, Oh my god, that was fucking great. That ended up being just one of the many great things Andrew introduced her to at the club and at home. She now looked forward to a ride on the bull, but ever since Andrew had planted the seed of using a second man instead of a toy to fill her cunt, she’d been wetly dreaming. She got an erotic thrill whenever she thought of being pressed between two male bodies, their thick cocks pounding her and pulsing within her orifices. Oh my…. She snapped out of her pleasant memories of the past to realize she’d arrived at the club. Anticipation coiled in her lower tummy. Stepping out, she could feel the moistness between her thighs as her body, recognizing the approaching rapture, prepared itself. Oh, Master, I can’t wait to deliver my willing body into your capable hands.

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Chapter Four Grant knew he risked Isabelle’s wrath, but he needed to know where she went tonight, who she deemed more important than him. He followed her home while chastising himself for being an insecure bastard. He parked just up the street and slouched in his seat, watching her front door. Words like stalker, control freak and psycho came to mind, but irrational or not, he didn’t budge from his post. When the cab arrived in front of her place, he ducked down further and lifted his head just enough to peek through the side window. Isabelle came out of the door dressed in a long trench coat, her hair bobbing in a high ponytail. Even in the evening gloom, he could tell she wore glam makeup, her cock-sucking lips beautifully red and her eyes a dark mystery. And that look said it all. She’s meeting a man. A lover. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and even though common sense dictated he should go home and look for answers on the morrow when he met up with her, that didn’t stop him from trailing the cab. Their path meandered through city streets, and his brow creased when the taxi finally came to a halt in the warehouse district, the brick building that was their destination no different than the others with blacked-out windows. Isabelle got out of the cab, which sped off, leaving her alone on the sidewalk. In impossible high-heels, she strutted to a riveted steel door and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, and even in his car, Grant could hear the thumping of music with a heavy beat. The door closed

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behind Isabelle, and the night went quiet again. Grant drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What should I do? Could she simply be meeting some girls for a night of clubbing, albeit in an obvious underground establishment? But if that were the case, then why wouldn’t she tell him? Grant put his hand on the key, his brain telling him to go home, but his hand had other ideas and pulled the key from the ignition. The next thing he knew, he found himself in front of the blank metal door. He knocked briskly. A moment later, the door opened, and he faced a surprise. “Who’s your sponsor?” Grant didn’t immediately reply, trying instead to come to grips with the apparition that acted as the doorman. A six-foot-plus giant, he was dressed in latex briefs that barely covered his groin while thick-studded leather straps crisscrossed his massive hairy chest. What the fuck is this place? Drawing on the commanding airs he used in the office and at business meetings, he eyed the doorman with a haughty air. “I’m looking for Isabelle.” “Never heard of her.” The gorilla went to close the door, but Grant inserted his foot and halted him. “She came through here just a minute ago. Listen, if you go get her, she can vouch for me.” But there was no need for the doorman to do anything, for dressed like a harem girl from Arabian Nights, Isabelle appeared, and even crazed with jealousy that she’d worn this for someone else, his cock attempted to burst through his pants. “Grant, what are you doing here?” Hands on her hips, his mistress looked pissed, and Grant wondered not for the first time if he should’ve let things be and stayed home. “I think a better question is, why are you here?” He attempted to sound domineering but failed miserably, too aware of her and the things he wanted to do to her. Isabelle pursed her lips, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “I can’t

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believe you followed me. I told you I’d see you tomorrow.” “I think I have a right to know if you’re fucking around on me.” Brave words, but honestly, he didn’t want to know, because if she was fucking around, he’d have to give her up. His pride wouldn’t let him share. Isabelle’s eyes flashed with mirth, and she laughed. “I didn’t realize we were exclusive.” The blasé comment hit him like a slap in the face. It had never occurred to him that they weren’t. “So you admit you’re here to see someone else?” “You aren’t ready to give me everything I need.” Her answer surprised him. “What do you need that I haven’t given you?” He’d complied with all her wishes, albeit reluctantly at times, but in the end, she always got her way. Isabelle eyed him speculatively, a high-heeled foot tapping. “You want to see what I want? What I’d like to do to you? Are you sure you’re ready?” Grant’s balls tightened, surely not in fear? But he couldn’t help noticing the gorilla in his state of undress making no pretense that he didn’t find their conversation interesting. And given Isabelle’s attire, just where were they, and what should he expect? “Well?” she asked, impatience making her words sound curt. “Are you staying or going? I warn you, if you stay, you will obey me no matter what, or you can consider our relationship over.” Grant’s head screamed at him to leave; he wasn’t ready to see what hid behind the velvet curtains that concealed the interior of the club from his view, but his cock, as usual, spoke for him. “I’m staying.” Isabelle smiled. “Very well then, pet, follow me. First we must dress you in something more appropriate.” Turning on her heel, she pushed through a smaller curtained doorway he hadn’t noticed, and he found himself in a locker room of sorts. Isabelle went to a compartment and, spinning the dial, unlocked and opened it. A moment later, she flung something at him, and he caught a small scrap of material.

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“What is this?” He held up the fabric that seemed to consist mostly of elastic. “Your outfit for the night.” She grinned, crossing her arms under her tits and drawing attention to the fact her nipples appeared prominently through the thin material of her top. “It’s called a thong.” Grant opened his mouth to say No fucking way, but Isabelle’s arched brow and stance let him know she’d enforce her words of earlier. I won’t let her leave me. I can’t. He’d asked for this, and ready or not, he’d see it through. I am not a coward. Keeping his gaze on hers, he stripped out of his suit, conscious that someone could walk in at any moment, a fact that aroused him instead of making him balk. Nude, he fumbled with the unfamiliar garment, and he cringed when the string slipped between his buttocks. How do women wear this? He found it exceedingly uncomfortable. His cock barely restrained in the cup, he shuffled his feet uncertainly, the air on his nude ass making him all too aware of his state of undress. Surely, she had more for him to wear. “Where’s the rest of the costume?” he asked, almost sighing in relief when she turned to the locker and pulled two more items out—a half mask, one that would cover his upper face, and a leather collar with a short chain leash. Grant looked at her incredulously. “Don’t you have more clothes for me? I can’t go out like this.” “Why not? With the mask on, no one will know who you are. And the collar and leash are to identify your slave status.” She approached him and trailed a nail across his chest down to his groin. She cupped him and squeezed, his cock instantly growing harder at her touch. “I want everyone to see how well-endowed you are. And besides, the games we’ll play inside the club call for a bare minimum of clothing.” Grant shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this.” A lie, actually, for his sexual excitement grew at her words. What games? Is this one of those fetish clubs? He’d seen pictures and watched videos on the Net, decadent scenarios that shocked and aroused him, things he never even dared think of trying. Isabelle made a moue of disappointment. “Too bad. I guess I’ll

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have to find myself another pet then. One who will play my games and satisfy my desires.” “No!” Isabelle was his. “What do you want me to do?” He was fearful of her answer, scared she’d finally ask him to do something that he just couldn’t agree to. But he also salivated at the thought of dipping his toe—or should he say his cock—into a new sexual realm. “Let me show you, pet. I promise no one will touch you. Unless you ask them to.” She laughed huskily, and his trepidation at her words enhanced his erection instead of diminishing it. I am a masochist. Before he could change his mind, he took a deep breath and placed the mask over his face. Isabelle smiled and squeezed his package. “Come, my pet, so that I might show you what I desire.” Grant, his cheeks red at his state of undress, followed her into the club. Oh, fuck, what am I getting into?

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Chapter Five Isabelle found herself torn. Torn between arousal that her sub had shown up and seemed willing to explore and extend his boundaries. And fighting annoyance, for this change in plans meant her pleasurable activities with her master would have to wait. She craned, looking for Andrew, hoping to warn him before Grant caught sight of him. But Andy, who manned the door this eve, must have warned him, for Andrew had also donned a mask similar to that worn by the actor in The Phantom of the Opera. She dragged a wide-eyed Grant through the lounge, stopping at the couch where Andrew sprawled. She sat down, but when Grant made to sit beside her, she snapped, “A pet does not sit on the furniture. He sits at his mistress’ feet, as is proper.” Grant’s body went taut, and she could see a muscle working in his jaw as she for the first time in public treated him like her submissive. His willingness to please won over his need to be in control—for now, at least. He knelt at her feet, his head turning from side to side, taking in the sights. She allowed him this privilege, for she wanted him to realize he was not the only one being forced to obey and take up position on the floor. She also wanted him to see some of the delights that could be enjoyed. Andrew leaned over and whispered in her ear, “What the fuck happened?” “He followed me. What could I do?”

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Andrew chuckled and slid a hand behind her back out of sight, but not out of mind; he made sure of that, sliding his hand inside the waistband of her harem pants. His fingers slid down the crack of her ass and toyed with her anus. Isabelle squirmed. Usually, she would have been on the floor, where Grant knelt. It seemed odd to be sitting on the couch instead. As a switch, she played two roles—mistress with her own sub and sub to Andrew, her master. Honestly, she couldn’t tell which she enjoyed more. Grant finally turned to face her again. “What is this place?” Isabelle yanked on his leash, and Grant fell forward. “Remember your manners,” she hissed. Grant’s face tightened, but he said the words, “Sorry, Mistress.” She loosened her grip and leaned back on the couch. “This, my pet, is a place for those that enjoy the kinkier delights to congregate and indulge in their pleasures. Do you like what you see?” She already knew the answer to that, the evidence visible as his cock bulged out from the thong she’d dressed him in. Grant didn’t answer, just ducked his head, his cheeks blushing bright under the edge of his mask. “I’m going to show you what I want to do to you now, Grant. Are you ready to see what I desire?” Grant just nodded. Isabelle stood, pulling Grant up behind her. Andrew lounged on the couch with a half smile. “Come back when you’re done, mistress.” Isabelle had to control a shudder. The promise in Andrew’s tone… Oh my, this evening should be interesting. She led her pet to a private room, one frequented by a domina she was familiar with and whom she’d seen just before Grant’s arrival leading her slave to. Mistress Victoria enjoyed an audience, so Isabelle had no fear when she slipped inside the curtain that shielded the room. Actually, she wasn’t the only one who’d come to watch. Several other master and slave pairs were already in place. Isabelle tugged at Grant until she had him in a spot with a clear view. He gasped. She sat in the chair set up for viewing and pushed at

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Grant, forcing him to kneel, facing the decadent action. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “That is what I want to do to you, Grant. I want to fuck you.” Grant almost went cross-eyed at her words, for she meant them literally, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. In front of him, a petite woman dressed in a red latex cat suit ass-fucked a man bent over and tied over an item that most closely resembled a sawhorse but with a wide-padded back. The man’s legs were spread, a bar between them forcing them open and keeping him exposed. His arms dangled down around the sides of the contraption and were tied together underneath. Vulnerable, completely at his mistress’ mercy, the idea, not to mention the view, both aroused and terrified Grant. Isabelle whispered in his ear again. “For your first time, I’d tie you spread-eagle to my bed, missionary style.” Grant swallowed, his cock throbbing hard. “I’d rub oil all over your cock and balls and slide my fingers into your ass, preparing it. Then, wearing a strap-on like Mistress Victoria’s—” Grant looked at the thick rubber cock that the domina in question wore strapped around her waist and shuddered. “I’d fuck you. And while I fucked you, I’d stroke your cock with my oil-slicked hands. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my pet?” Grant trembled and shook his head. No. It’s what he wanted to say, but the word wouldn’t leave his lips, just like his eyes couldn’t move away from the hypnotic motion of the dildo being thrust in and out, this perverted sight exciting him to his shame. He could tell the other sub enjoyed this claiming; it was clearly written on his pleasure-filled face. And Grant, to his disgust, found the idea arousing. He wanted to let Isabelle do this unmanly thing. But how could he? A small dildo in his private hole was one thing, but he couldn’t let his secretary fuck him as if he was her personal slut. Could he? As if sensing his inner turmoil, she murmured, “Think about it. This is my fantasy, Grant. And I promise, you will enjoy it.” Exactly what he feared.

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Chapter Six Isabelle pulled him away as the domina still pistoned away. Grant followed along meekly, his cock throbbing and his cheeks red. His eyes refused to meet hers, and she wondered what he thought. The idea hadn’t disgusted him, and yet she could tell it shocked him. And his very reluctance was what made the fact he would eventually let her do it so much more exciting. The thought of fucking this powerful man, one who didn’t want to but who would because she said so… The wetness between her thighs said it all. Isabelle returned them to the sofa where Andrew still sat. She sat down, and Grant knelt without being told at her feet. “I see it went well,” said Andrew with a pointed look at Grant’s swollen groin. Grant gritted his teeth and spat a low growl. “Don’t look at me like that.” Isabelle arched a brow. Oh-oh. Andrew leaned forward in a menacing way. “Your slave is impertinent, Isabelle. I find myself offended.” Isabelle’s breath hitched—in excitement. “I’m sorry, Master. My pet is very new to this. Please let us make amends for his gaffe.” When Grant would have retorted, she grabbed him by the hair and hissed, “Silence, my pet. Because of your rudeness, we must now apologize to the master. You will be quiet and do as you are told, or things will go badly for you.” Isabelle turned to Andrew before Grant could see

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the mirth in her eyes. “Master, how might we please you?” “I believe that seeing you punish your slave on the chair might go a long way toward appeasing me.” “As you wish.” Isabelle withheld the smile that threatened. It looked like the evening would not be a complete loss after all. Grant’s eyes were wide and questioning, but he said not a word when she got up and pulled on his leash, forcing him to follow her. Andrew led the way, and Isabelle enjoyed the view of his muscular ass in tight leather pants. He led the way into the pleasure den, and Isabelle flushed with arousal at Grant’s gasp of shock. Oh, wait until I introduce you to the pleasures that can be found here. What a shame she hadn’t progressed enough in his training to make him ride the bull, her favorite toy, but Andrew had chosen well. The chair was the object least likely to frighten him while giving him the perfect introduction to public pleasure—and seeing her interacting with another man. She made her way to the specially made throne and seated herself. She patted her lap, and Grant hesitated, looking about, caught by the cries of pain and rapture that echoed all around. She wondered if Grant found this more or less decadent than the strap-on show she’d subjected him to. “Perhaps your slave would prefer I conduct the spanking.” Andrew’s words released Grant from his fascinated stasis, and he folded himself over her lap, his erection pressing against her leg. “You won’t touch me like you usually do, right?” Grant whispered against her leg, trepidation in his tone. Isabelle smiled. Poor Grant, still ashamed that he enjoyed it when she played with his ass. Didn’t he realize that was the least of his worries? She didn’t answer with words, instead letting her hand speak for her. Smack! Grant, now used to spankings, didn’t grunt or squirm. She rained several blows on the fleshy part of his ass before letting her fingers spread his cheeks in search of his puckered ring. He tried to rear up on her lap. “No, I thought—” Andrew placed a firm hand on Grant’s back and pushed him back down. “Behave yourself,” he roared. “Or I will take over.”

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Grant stilled, and Isabelle held her breath, wondering if they’d gone too far too quick. “Yes, sir. Sorry, Mistress,” he said in a chastened tone, but his body betrayed his tenseness. Isabelle smiled triumphantly and resumed her spanking, delving her fingers into his anus, electing to not punish him when he clenched. She could only imagine how hard this was for him letting her have complete control over his entire body and in public as well; yet she also knew it excited him, for his cock throbbed against her thigh. Andrew watched her every move out of Grant’s sight. Just as well, for Grant would have freaked had he seen what he did. Andrew stood just behind Grant’s bared ass and stroked his own cock. Isabelle grew wet, for she knew Andrew’s fantasy was twofold. Yes he wanted a ménage, where both of her holes were fucked at once. But the second part of his ménage fantasy was to see her on her back, legs spread, with Grant plowing her cunt while Andrew plowed Grant from behind in a sexual orgy that he nicknamed “the train.” Her body flushed from head to toe, and she trembled with arousal. Andrew could read her thoughts, and unbeknownst to Grant, he mimed fucking him. Isabelle whimpered with need. She grabbed Grant by the hair and pulled him up. He stared at her with passion-glazed eyes. She spoke not a word, just spread her thighs, revealing the strategically placed hole in her harem pants. Grant dove on her cunt like a man dying of thirst. Isabelle would have moaned from the pleasure, but using the stepping stool beside the throne, Andrew shoved his cock into her mouth, gagging her with his thick, hard length. Isabelle sucked him eagerly, glad she’d pleased her master. Grant licked at Isabelle’s velvety folds, her sweet juices coating his tongue. She tasted so damned good. He’d almost forgotten they were in a public-type setting. Actually, he was aware of it, but it aroused him, even as he flushed remembering how everyone could see Isabelle playing with his private hole. Thank god for the mask. At least no one knew who he was.

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Flicking his tongue against Isabelle’s clit, he opened his eyes and looked up at his mistress. “What the—” His exclamation was cut off as a firm hand smashed his mouth back against her cunt. But he couldn’t stop looking. Isabelle—his mistress—was sucking that other master’s dick. And liking it. Grant, however, didn’t like it one bit, even though the sight was strangely erotic. He’d never seen her giving a blow job from this angle before, and damn did she look good while she did it. Her perfect full lips stretched over the guy’s thick shaft, her cheeks hollowed as she inhaled with vigor. Grant licked her faster. “Use your fingers, too, slave,” said the other man in a hoarse voice. Grant found himself obeying this dominant male, his fingers sliding into Isabelle’s wet sex and pumping her while his tongue kept flicking her clit. His gaze remained on her face, though, and what she did. When the other guy grabbed her hair and really fucked her mouth, Grant almost came, his own cock so throbbing hard that the slightest touch would make him blow. Faster, he pumped her with his fingers, but it wasn’t until the other master went rigid, his cock deep down her throat, that she finally came, and Grant latched his mouth onto her convulsing cunt, lapping at her juices as she orgasmed in wild abandon. She pushed at his head. “Enough.” She was panting. Grant sat back on his haunches and stared at her, the urge to stroke himself strong, for she looked so goddamned beautiful, even given the fact she’d been blowing another man. Her eyes shone brightly, and her cheeks were flushed. She licked her red lips, and he shuddered when he looked at her nether lips and saw her still quivering. The masked stranger bent behind the throne, and when he leaned back up, he handed her a wet serviette. She inclined her head in thanks. “Do you find yourself appeased, Master?” She daintily cleaned the hands she’d dirtied playing with him. “Quite. Feel free to offend me anytime,” he said to Grant. “Mistress Isabelle, I’ll see you later.” Inclining his head, the other guy left, returning to the lounge.

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Grant finally gave voice to his jealousy. “Why were you sucking him?” Isabelle turned languorous eyes to him. “It was that or you would have had to suck him off. You can’t be disrespectful of a master here and not expect to pay the price. From now on, I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut while we’re here, or you might find yourself earning a punishment you might not like.” Grant, remembering what he’d seen—flogging, spanking, decadent types of fucking and not always between just a man and woman—shuddered. “Yes, Mistress.” “Now it seems to me that while I’ve been well pleasured, you have been a good boy and have not yet come.” Grant’s cock throbbed. “Please, Mistress.” “Stroke it, my pet.” Grant shook his head. “Not here.” “Now.” She slid her fingers down to rest against her cleft. Grant’s breath came harshly, and his hand moved, hesitatingly, down to his hard cock. “Stroke it,” she ordered, sliding a finger into her own moistness. Finally, his hand clenched around his cock, and he stroked, his hand pumping faster and faster. “That’s it, my pet,” she whispered, coming off the throne and moving behind him. She crouched down and slid her hand down the crack of his ass, the thong of his elastic no impediment for her roaming fingers. She easily found his anus, and with fingers wet from her own juices, she slid one in. Too far gone in pleasure, he didn’t protest, just groaned, as she pushed one, then two fingers into his ass. She bit down and sucked on the soft skin of his neck as she finger-fucked him, only pumping him a few times before his body went still and he came with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his face ducked low as if hiding. “Good boy,” she murmured into his ear. “Now, it’s time for you to go home and think about what I showed you. If you still want to be my slave, then show up at my place tomorrow night, seven o’clock. And be

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prepared for me to fuck you. Hard.”

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Chapter Seven Grant stumbled through the fetish club in a daze. Embarrassment clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake. What the fuck just happened? Am I a pervert, letting her do those things to me in public? What would my clients think? Grant hurriedly dressed in his clothes, disposing of the mask and thong in a garbage receptacle. The same gorilla manned the door and let him out with a knowing smirk that made Grant blush then grow angry. He stalked out into the night and drove home with his hands tightly clenched around the steering wheel. If Isabelle thinks I’m going to let her do depraved things to me, she’s got another thing coming. Fuck me missionary style, indeed. The car swerved as a mental image of Isabelle, flushed and naked, pumping him appeared in his mind, her skillful hands wrapped around his cock. Would it be so bad? That question plagued him as he drove home. It pestered him as he showered, his hand around his prick, which refused to stay down. It ran through his mind as he lay in bed, stroking himself. What exactly do I object to? It’s gay! But was it really? He had no problem fucking a girl in the ass. He loved it when Isabelle licked his puckered hole, and he came hardest when she put the mini dildo up there. So, the act itself wasn’t the issue; he even had a very strong feeling he’d enjoy it. She was definitely not a guy, and he’d seen how aroused she’d become watching the other couple at the club. Which made him think in turn of what he’d allowed to happen

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there. He’d allowed his secretary, his secret mistress, to spank him and order him about in public. He’d even masturbated and let her play with his ass in full view of others. And it was fucking awesome. His embarrassment had enhanced the whole experience, his token protests part of the game. And having seen the decadence firsthand, he wanted more. He wasn’t ready to be tied up and taken in full view of everyone, but other items like the cross he’d seen another man being tortured on had piqued his interest. He also wouldn’t mind another spanking. Thank god that other master left before Isabelle ordered him to stroke himself and come. He wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to in front of his commanding stare. It chagrined him to realize that even though it made him jealous, he’d enjoyed watching Isabelle pleasure that other guy as he pleasured her. It made him think of movies he’d watched where one man would fuck a girl’s mouth while the other plowed her pussy. I wonder if Isabelle has ever done something like that. The hand around his cock tightened, and he stroked faster. So many new things she’d shown him and left him to ponder. The biggest question now was, would he let her fuck him? Could he allow himself to let go of his need to be in control, to be the one pumping, and let her do something that obviously meant a lot to her sexually? Who would know? Alone, he did something he’d never done before. He brought his leg up and, licking a finger first, probed his anus. His puckered hole tightened, and he almost tore his hand away, but his cock thickened in expectation in the hand that stroked it. I can do this. Pushing out like Isabelle had taught him, he popped his finger in. Damn, he was tight. He slid his finger in farther and found the spot Isabelle stroked. Like a primed bomb, he went off, his shaft shooting his load clear across the bed. Holy fuck.

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Chapter Eight Isabelle paced, wondering if Grant would show up. She’d dressed in an eye-popping ensemble in case he did. Similar to Mistress Victoria’s cat suit, it was a one-piece black latex suit with cutouts for her nipples, ass cheeks, as well as her cunt and navel. She hadn’t strapped on her brand new dildo yet. If he did show up, she didn’t want him running right back out the door. Which led back to the question of, would he come? She’d pushed his limits pretty far the previous night. But he brought it on himself when he followed me. What else could she do? Had she sent him home, he would have imagined all kinds of things and worked himself into a jealous fit. However, by bringing him in so soon and shocking his sexual psyche so to speak, she might have scared him off. It would come down to whether pleasing her meant more to him than his inhibitions. They both knew he’d enjoy it. His erection in the club had been constant. He’d balked, especially when she’d sucked Andrew off, but again, he’d surprised her by not protesting overly much, even if his eyes had betrayed his ire at sharing her. How would he react when he found out she wanted to share herself in an even more carnal sense with him and Andrew? Small steps. First, she needed to see if he was willing to take the next step and fulfill her fantasy. She heard the click of the front door as Grant let himself in, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. He strode up the hall dressed in a suit that stretched across his broad shoulders, looking every inch the

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powerful businessman. My man, my pet. Isabelle stood, legs slightly spread in the middle of the hall. She placed one hand on her hip and gave him a haughty smile that hid her inner excitement. “About time you got here, pet. Are you ready to fulfill my fantasy?” His dark gaze bored into hers, and she saw his hands clench at his sides. With a sigh, he said the words, almost reluctantly, “I am yours to do with as you please, Mistress.” Isabelle wanted to jump up and down and clap. Instead, she ordered him. “Strip, then place yourself on your back on my bed.” He tugged off the tie and dropped it to the floor. His shirt and pants soon followed. His tight briefs did little to hide his massive erection, and wetness flooded her cunt. Oh god, I could almost come thinking of what I’m going to do to him. Naked finally, he strode past her, his tight buttocks too tempting. She pinched one, and he grinned at her insolently over his shoulder. He kept up his relaxed smile and pose as he lay spread-eagle on the bed. She straddled his chest, her wet nether lips brushing the taut skin of his muscled stomach. His eyes burned with lust as she tied his arms to the silk scarves already in place around her bedposts. It wasn’t until she went to tie the second leg that he tensed up a bit, but he didn’t struggle or pull away. Seeing him tied made her think of the rope class she and Andrew signed up for that started next week. She wondered how Grant would feel about being hog tied, a restrictive pose that required a lot of trust. But that would be for another day. Other fun awaited first. Trailing a manicured nail up his leg, she scratched his balls lightly and poked at his ring. His breathing came faster, but the playing had just begun. The toys for this evening’s erotic pleasures sat beside the bed, and straddling his stomach again, she pulled out two nipple clamps. His eyes widened, and he hissed when she put the first one on. She could tell he wanted to speak, but he held his tongue, even if his gaze spoke volumes. She attached the second one and flicked them both. He cried out. Those were her controls if he started to go too quick.

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As it was, she figured, he’d need a quick blow before she could really enjoy what she planned to do. Turning around, she wiggled her cunt into place over his face and reached into the box to grab her bottle of oil. She lowered herself onto his face while pouring the oil on him, her bed already protected with a plastic sheet under the throwaway comforter. This first time, she wanted him well lubed. The oil ran down the length of his jutting cock and over his balls to the crevice hidden beneath. As his tongue worked her pussy, she worked his cock, her hands stroking him up and down, the slickness of the oil feeling wickedly good. She squeezed his greasy balls, sliding them between her fingers, then moved lower and rubbed her oily fingers against his puckered hole. Anticipation made his mouth devour her frantically, and she paused in her objective to enjoy the pleasure he wrung in her sex. His tongue truly was gifted, flicking her clit with expert strokes that made her want to gyrate against his face. But she couldn’t lose track of her purpose. Make him come so he’d last for the real fun. Her hand grasped his cock firmly, and she masturbated him while she plunged two fingers from her other hand into his anus. He bucked a little, his mouth hot and fervent against her muffling his groans as she worked him. With a moan that trembled against her sex, he came, his cock spurting and pumping. She reached for a nearby wet facecloth and wiped him clean. Isabelle got off of him, her cunt throbbing and aching for release. She washed her hands and came back. Tied to the bed, panting, he was the picture of spent pleasure. Thankfully, she knew from experience that he had stamina, and it only needed a little coaxing to bring him to life again. Delving in the box of treasures beside the bed, she pulled out the strap-on. All black from the straps and buckles to the jutting rubber cock, a long, thick bobbing thing, she wrapped it around her waist and secured it. She looked up to see Grant’s eyes wide. He shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this, Isabelle. I didn’t

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expect it to be that big.” Isabelle poured some oil into her palm and, instead of responding, stroked the greasy substance up and down the new phallus she’d bought for just this occasion. Grant watched her, hypnotized, it seemed. However, while his body lay still, his cock twitched, its oily, glistening length rising from the curls at his groin. Isabelle straddled him, her pussy, aching and damp, poised over his growing rod. “I promise,” she said, lowering herself onto his shaft, making him sigh, “that it will feel good.” She swirled her hips, and a moan escaped her at the feel of him inside her. She kept her hand on the rubber dildo, stroking it and coating it with oil. She bounced a few more times on his cock, holding back from her orgasm. A battle she lost. Her muscles squeezed around his cock, and with a cry, she came, ripples of pleasure shooting throughout her whole body. But her excitement did not ebb. She pulled herself off his still-erect cock, aftershocks throbbing in her channel. He tensed as she positioned herself between his legs. She leaned over and grabbed the spare pillow she’d brought. “Lift your ass,” she ordered, staring at him, his face a mask of indecision and trepidation. He hesitated. “Trust me, pet.” Famous last words, thought Grant. He trembled with fear—and anticipation. Part of him wanted to tell her to untie him so he could run from this place and escape the sexual limits she kept pushing on him. But damn it, wrong as this seemed to let her be in charge, to let her own and use him, it excited him. I want this. He clenched his ass and thigh muscles, lifting his lower body so she could place the firm pillow under his butt, raising his pelvis. A shiver ran through him when the head of the dildo poked at his anus. He felt so exposed and vulnerable. The scarves she’d bound him with held him securely, and even though he strained, unable to stop

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

himself when she poked at his tight ring, he could not escape. And that added a level of pleasure. Grant’s cock throbbed, and he twitched when she poured some more oil onto it, the fluid running down its length onto his balls and under into the crack of his ass. Her hands stroked him, slippery and feeling so fucking good. “Are you ready?” she asked. He looked up into her flushed and excited face and nodded. He wanted to give his mistress her fantasy. He needed to please her and, in turn, please himself. A seductive smile spread over her face. One of her hands gripped his cock tightly, stroking it up and down. The other guided the thick phallus against his tight ring. He tightened up as it probed him; he couldn’t help himself. “Relax for me, Grant,” she coaxed, using his name for once instead of her nickname for him. He tried, ordering his muscles to loosen up, and they did slightly. Then she pushed into him, and he yelled. “Oh fuck!” The pressure was incredible, and he panted in harsh breaths, the foreign feeling in his ass making him thrash. His frantic motions, though, seemed to slide it in deeper. Realizing this, he went still. Isabelle stilled as well, the only motion that of her hand stroking his cock. That soothing motion was what made him relax enough to open his eyes. Her concerned eyes stared back at him. He saw the question in them, and he knew, if he asked, she’d stop right then and there. And that gave him the confidence he needed. He also realized it didn’t hurt now that he’d gotten over his initial shock, and he could appreciate how the rubber cock in his ass rubbed him in a pleasurable way. “Fuck me, Mistress.” Isabelle sighed, and he watched her as she began to move between his legs, her fingers gripping his cock tight and matching the thrusting pace she set. The rapture built quickly, the solid pumping of her hips driving the strap-on deep into him and bringing to life new sensations. “Holy fuck,” he groaned. His orgasm hung just a thrust away. Sensing this, she leaned forward and tweaked the clamps on his nipples.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

The sharp pain brought him back from the brink for a second only, but her pumping action didn’t stop, and he lost control. With a loud bellow, he arched up and came—and came some more. And still she fucked him, her rapid friction making his cock turn solid again. Grant couldn’t believe how horny he was again, so quickly, too, and he let out a moan of protest when she pulled out of him. “My turn,” she panted, her eyes bright. She quickly freed him from his bonds and shucked the strap-on. From her toy box, she pulled out her familiar dildo, thicker even than the one she’d used on him. She handed it to him then got on all fours and presented her ass. “Double fuck me, Grant.” Grant almost stopped breathing. But that didn’t stop him from doing as she asked. First, though, he grabbed the bottle of oil she’d used on him. He dribbled it down her exposed ass crack and with clumsy fingers rubbed it into her puckered hole. Isabelle moaned, and even with two orgasms of his own, he became impatient. He gripped her large dildo and rammed it into her soaking wet cunt. Isabelle twitched and cried out. Not in pain, no. His mistress liked it hard, and Grant intended to give it to her. He worked the phallus in and out of her a few times before pushing it in deep and leaving it there with only the very bottom of it visible out of the bottom of her cunt. He toyed with her asshole, rubbing his swollen cock-head against it. She wiggled her ass at him. “Please,” she whimpered. Gripping her ass cheeks, he penetrated her. Isabelle screamed when his cock pushed past her tight ring. The dildo in her sex made the rod in her other hole feel so much bigger and tighter. Grant eased himself in, but she wanted it hard. “Fuck me,” she ordered. He needed no second prompting. He slammed himself in to the hilt, and Isabelle dug her fingers into the sheets. Like a piston, he pumped her, his slapping, hard motions against her backside driving the dildo in

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

her cunt deep with each stroke. Overcome with pleasure, she didn’t last long. Keening, she orgasmed, the quivering of all her muscles too much for Grant who, buried to the hilt, spent himself as well in a hot gush. They collapsed side by side, and she snuggled into his embrace, the submissive in her loving the closeness that came after great sex. She also felt closer than ever to her boss and pet, Grant. He’d fulfilled one of her fantasies, his reluctant submission and ultimate pleasure a memory she would forever treasure. The trust he’d shown, heart-melting. It gave her hope that when she broached her next fantasy, he’d be just as open. If not, she could always fuck him and pleasure him into submission. What fun!

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Epilogue Grant walked into Isabelle’s townhouse, eager and horny. She had mentioned on the phone that she had a surprise for him. And I love her surprises, even if the last one left me sore for a few days, pleasantly so. But just thinking about the way he’d allowed her to claim him, the vulnerable sensation as she plowed him deeply, making him come harder than he’d thought possible… Damn, sore ass or not, he hoped she planned to fuck him again tonight. Or maybe, like the video he’d seen on the Internet, she’d plug his ass so he could fuck her while being penetrated. Grant shuddered, his cock swelling with anticipation. She had introduced him to so many new erotic delights, many that had pushed his limits and that he’d never tell another soul about. But, in the privacy of her bedroom or his, he’d reached the point where he’d let her do just about anything. Her voice drifted from the bedroom. “Strip in the hall and enter naked.” His cock already hard, Grant shucked his clothes in record time. Naked, he let his shaft lead the way and walked into her bedroom—a boudoir of pleasure. What he saw inside, though, made him stop dead. Isabelle lounged on her bed, naked and spread-eagle, but that wasn’t what made his jealous beast rear its ugly head. It was the man on one side of her, also naked, sucking on one of her luscious tits as his hand delved between her thighs, stroking her velvety folds, that made Grant want to punch something or someone. This wasn’t the club and anonymous patrons; this was their love nest, their secret place where only

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

they indulged in their perverted desires. “Hello, my pet.” She smiled at him with heavy lids. “Aren’t you going to join us?” “What the fuck is this, Isabelle?” he asked in a tight voice, unable to hide his erection at this erotic visual, but not so far gone that he’d willingly let another man come near him while naked. Isabelle got up from the bed while her male companion lay on his back with his hands folded behind his head. Grant stared at him, trying to place his familiar presence, but a domino mask hid his face. Isabelle walked towards him, her voluptuous figure undulating in distracting ways. “Remember how I said I had two fantasies I’ve always wanted to indulge in? Fucking you with a strap-on was one of them.” Grant flinched when she said that out loud for the stranger to hear. He wanted to walk out, leave now that she’d exposed his secret, unmanned him in front of another, but he hesitated, waiting and curious. “My second fantasy,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss the bottom of his jaw, “is to be claimed by two men at once. To feel two hard bodies sandwiching me between them, two cocks plowing me at the same time.” She grabbed his hand and slid it between her legs, making him feel how wet she was. “Will you make my fantasy come true?” Grant looked at her expectant face, and his mind swirled as he struggled with an answer. I’ve already given up so much control. Can I allow myself to do this? Do I even want to? His gaze flicked to the other man on the bed, a man she expected him to get intimately close to while naked. “Well, pet, will you be the third in my ménage?” Grant closed his eyes and looked within for the answer.

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My Secretary, Her Fantasy by Eve Langlais

Author Bio Eve Langlais is a Canadian in her mid-thirties who’s married with three children. She resides in a small town in Ontario where she works from home as a webmistress and customer service rep. She enjoys spending time with her family, playing Wii (Mario Galaxy II being the game of the moment), reading tawdry romance novels, and writing even naughtier ones. She claims her stories come from the voices clamoring inside her head. Discover what else her twisted mind has devised at http://www.evelanglais.com.

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