even as my cheeks
heat with embarrassment. He wants me to kneel down in front of him
and suck his cock while he talks on a video call to the President
of the United States. Even if I can’t be seen on the video feed,
how does he think he’ll hide what he’s doing—or more accurately,
having done to him—for the entire time?
But…don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate.
I get onto my knees first, then crawl until
I’m in front of him. When I raise myself back up in front of him, I
give him a questioning look.
Is my head out of the picture?
He gives me an almost imperceptible nod that
undoubtedly appears to the President as respectful attention to
what he’s saying.
Sliding my hand over his length, I lower my
head and lick the silky head. I close my eyes and savor the taste
of him, so intimate and well-known. How lucky I am that it’s me he
wants, that we are so suited to one another’s needs and desires.
When he’s fully hard, I take him into my mouth and down to my
throat. I’ve learned over the course of the last six weeks to
accommodate his entire length in my mouth, all the way to the
hilt.
His hand comes to rest at the back of my head
as he continues to speak to the President in perfectly even tones,
but I can tell from the way he’s pushing my head up and down that
he’s not going to hold out much longer. My clit throbs painfully
now, the idea of what we’re doing so erotic and who we’re doing it
in front of so arousing, I feel as though I might come without any
direct stimulation at all.
I hear a hitch in his breathing, and I
massage his balls through the fabric of his jeans.
“Have I answered all your questions, Mr.
President?” he asks, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.
I wonder distantly if the President has talked to my master often
enough to recognize the tone.
“Yes, I believe you have. I appreciate your
time, Ben. You’ll be compensated for the consultation, of
course.”
“Oh yes, sir, I know I will,” my master
replies, and I know he’s not talking about being paid.
He leans forward and disconnects the video
call.
“Jesus, you really are the world’s dirtiest
and sweetest little slave,” he groans. “I really didn’t think you’d
do that with the President on the video feed, but you did.”
Without warning, he pulls himself free of my
mouth with a pop and helps me to my feet.
“I need to fuck you. Now. Turn around and
bend over the desk.”
I spin away from him and prop myself on my
elbows on the flat surface in front of me, taking care not to knock
any of the computer equipment to the floor. He lifts my skirt—I’m
wearing my maid costume—pushes aside the thong, and plunges into my
cunt. It takes only mere seconds of our bodies crashing together in
heated desperation for us both to come.
When it’s over, he pulls out and tucks his
slackening cock back into his jeans. Fresh, warm semen trickles
down my leg, a wet, sticky reminder of our joining. I don’t bother
to try to find something to wipe it away. I’m too stunned by what
just happened to worry about it.
He gives my bare ass a playful swat before
tugging my skirt back into place. “I’m reconsidering that bonus to
Daniels. I might just have to double it.”
It’s the height of summer, and even this
close to the beach, the days are hot and gorgeously sunny. My
master and I are outside on the terrace beside the swimming pool.
Although we’re above the level of the beach, passersby can still
look up and see us—or at least, our heads and shoulders. We
undoubtedly look like a couple cuddling innocently together, me
sitting on his lap, my head resting against his shoulder, his arms
wrapped around my waist.
What they can’t see is that his swim trunks
are pulled down, my thong bikini is pushed to one side, and his
cock is in my ass, his fingers stroking my clit as he rocks slowly
in and out of me.
Ever since I gave him that blow job in front
of the President, he’s found more and more
heat with embarrassment. He wants me to kneel down in front of him
and suck his cock while he talks on a video call to the President
of the United States. Even if I can’t be seen on the video feed,
how does he think he’ll hide what he’s doing—or more accurately,
having done to him—for the entire time?
But…don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate.
I get onto my knees first, then crawl until
I’m in front of him. When I raise myself back up in front of him, I
give him a questioning look.
Is my head out of the picture?
He gives me an almost imperceptible nod that
undoubtedly appears to the President as respectful attention to
what he’s saying.
Sliding my hand over his length, I lower my
head and lick the silky head. I close my eyes and savor the taste
of him, so intimate and well-known. How lucky I am that it’s me he
wants, that we are so suited to one another’s needs and desires.
When he’s fully hard, I take him into my mouth and down to my
throat. I’ve learned over the course of the last six weeks to
accommodate his entire length in my mouth, all the way to the
hilt.
His hand comes to rest at the back of my head
as he continues to speak to the President in perfectly even tones,
but I can tell from the way he’s pushing my head up and down that
he’s not going to hold out much longer. My clit throbs painfully
now, the idea of what we’re doing so erotic and who we’re doing it
in front of so arousing, I feel as though I might come without any
direct stimulation at all.
I hear a hitch in his breathing, and I
massage his balls through the fabric of his jeans.
“Have I answered all your questions, Mr.
President?” he asks, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.
I wonder distantly if the President has talked to my master often
enough to recognize the tone.
“Yes, I believe you have. I appreciate your
time, Ben. You’ll be compensated for the consultation, of
course.”
“Oh yes, sir, I know I will,” my master
replies, and I know he’s not talking about being paid.
He leans forward and disconnects the video
call.
“Jesus, you really are the world’s dirtiest
and sweetest little slave,” he groans. “I really didn’t think you’d
do that with the President on the video feed, but you did.”
Without warning, he pulls himself free of my
mouth with a pop and helps me to my feet.
“I need to fuck you. Now. Turn around and
bend over the desk.”
I spin away from him and prop myself on my
elbows on the flat surface in front of me, taking care not to knock
any of the computer equipment to the floor. He lifts my skirt—I’m
wearing my maid costume—pushes aside the thong, and plunges into my
cunt. It takes only mere seconds of our bodies crashing together in
heated desperation for us both to come.
When it’s over, he pulls out and tucks his
slackening cock back into his jeans. Fresh, warm semen trickles
down my leg, a wet, sticky reminder of our joining. I don’t bother
to try to find something to wipe it away. I’m too stunned by what
just happened to worry about it.
He gives my bare ass a playful swat before
tugging my skirt back into place. “I’m reconsidering that bonus to
Daniels. I might just have to double it.”
It’s the height of summer, and even this
close to the beach, the days are hot and gorgeously sunny. My
master and I are outside on the terrace beside the swimming pool.
Although we’re above the level of the beach, passersby can still
look up and see us—or at least, our heads and shoulders. We
undoubtedly look like a couple cuddling innocently together, me
sitting on his lap, my head resting against his shoulder, his arms
wrapped around my waist.
What they can’t see is that his swim trunks
are pulled down, my thong bikini is pushed to one side, and his
cock is in my ass, his fingers stroking my clit as he rocks slowly
in and out of me.
Ever since I gave him that blow job in front
of the President, he’s found more and more
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