Morzhay Cosmetics

So there I was, sitting naked on my boss’ desk at seven o’clock on a Friday evening in March, having just emptied my balls into the glorious body of my boss, Lilah Morxay, president and CEO of Morxay Cosmetics (that ‘x’ is, of course, pronounced as an “szh”-- but everyone knows that) while her stunning secretary-slash-lesbian-lover screwed her ass with a strap-on. The same secretary who now sat not twelve feet away from me, regarding me coldly, naked except for the tight, black leather boots that clung to her legs and the black vinyl S&M teddy outfit.

The vinyl teddy stopped just below Jennifer's magnificent breasts, which appeared to be supported somewhat by a small, shelf-type built-in bra. Leather straps from this bra ran around and between her breasts and attached to a black slave collar that circled her long, model’s neck. Her breasts were large and perfect, erect and proud, showing a shadowy and inviting cleavage between their swollen fullness. The effect of the teddy was to make it appear as though she were serving her tits up to me on a platter, the brown nipples begging for my lips, the ripe and engorged flesh waiting for my fingers.

Jennifer was a classic statuesque blonde of intimidating beauty, perfect in every detail, from her magazine-cover face to her long, deliciously curved legs. Her hands were smooth, aristocratic, her nails just the right length. Even the beauty mark above her lip was placed perfectly. The only jarring note was the loud and garish makeup she wore, but the contrast between her perfection and the exaggerated, silver-blue eye shadow and bright crimson and wet-looking lipstick was arousing, as it showed how willing she was to betray her own classic beauty for cheap, whorish sexual pleasure.

The only bad thing about Jennifer was that, well, she was gay. She was Lilah Morxay’s toy, and as Lilah herself had told me earlier, I was not to so much as look at Jennifer without Lilah’s permission. But Lilah, temporarily fucked out, had just given me that permission. Had, in fact, ordered Jennifer to “clean me up”, and both Jennifer and I knew that Lilah hadn’t meant a sponge bath..

Now Lilah was either in the shower next door, or already in bed. And Jennifer and I were sitting alone in Lilah’s office, the remnants of our recent sex session scattered around us, checking each other out, and not, it was obvious, with mutual admiration.

“Well,” I said, a bit too brightly, “you heard Lilah’s orders.” I tried to make it sound like I wasn't for it either, but that an order was an order, so what could I do? Acvtually I was dying to feel Jenn's long, lexxy tongue curl around my rod, still dripping with Lilah's love-juice.

Jennifer’s blue-green eyes were icy. Without answering she bent over and picked up her trench coat off the floor, where she’d dropped it in the heat of our sex with Lilah. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a package of cigarettes and a lighter. She took one of these fashionably long and slim smokes from the pack, placed it between her lips and casually lit it, then exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke right at me.

I was surprised. She didn’t seem like the smoking type. As she took the cigarette from her lips, I noticed the bright red blot of lipstick on the filter. It turned me on. I’m weird that way.

“Is that what she said?” she asked coolly, cocking an eyebrow at me.

You’ve got to understand that my relationship with Jennifer was a little more complicated than my relationship with Lilah. Lilah was my boss, and up till then had been way up the ladder and remote from me. I knew next to nothing about her before she’d had climbed on top of me. But Jen I saw most every day. I was one of a long line of male employees who’d tried to talk her up or get some response from her; men were always finding an excuse to go over and talk to Jen and she always shot them down with no more than one of her stony glances or a frosty silence. But still they came back. She was the kind of woman you just liked to look at, just wanted to be around, in case some miracle occurred.

As I say, I’d made my share of clumsy advances towards Jennifer, and had held my share of one-way conversations, all without making a dent. But all that had changed now. I’d had my cock up Lilah’s pussy while Jennifer was screwing her ass. We’d all come together. I’d seen Jennifer lose it in orgasmic ecstasy. That had changed everything. She couldn’t hide behind her intimidating beauty any more. She could sit there in her boots and teddy, tits hanging out, smoking and looking down her nose at me, but now I knew her as she really was. Everything had changed.

“You don’t like me much, do you Jennifer?” I asked her.

She took a drag, exhaled another plume of smoke. “It’s nothing personal.” she said. “I just don’t care much for men.”

“Well, that puts you in an awkward position, doesn’t it. “ I said. “I mean, Lilah told you…”

“I know what Lilah said.” Jennifer looked at me sharply, then she smiled. “Really, I have nothing against men in general. They can be useful. If they know their place.”

“And what is their place?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer me immediately. Instead she crossed her legs, placing knee over knee, and sat up straighter in the chair, regaining her imperious attitude. Her nipples were pale brown and the size of half-dollars, and I wondered if they’d ever felt a man’s lips on them.

“Lilah and I are a lot alike.” she said. “On the same wavelength. That’s why we work so well together. We have the same attitude towards life, towards men, towards sex.”

It took me a moment to understand what she meant. When I did, I had to smile.

“Even when it comes to whips?” I asked.

Jennifer took another drag and dropped the cigarette casually into the drink Lilah had poured me, it seemed like ages ago.

“It’s not about whips, Mr. Narr.” she said. Strange. around the office she called me Rob, like everyone else. Now I was Mr. Narr.

“It’s not the whips. It’s the control.” she said.

“I don’t get you.”

“The whips, that’s just Lilah. She likes that…that symbolism. But me, I just like the control.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at me from beneath the fall of golden hair. I recognized the look. It was the one Jen used when important clients came to visit. Important male clients.

“I like a man I can control. A man who’ll do what I tell him to.”

Before I could reply, Jennifer brushed her hair back and leaned forward. Her breasts hardly changed shape. She seemed remarkably at ease for a woman dressed in nothing but boots and a breast-exposing teddy, talking to a man whose privates she was expected to lick clean.

“See” she said, “Lilah’s right about men. Men don’t know how to make love. They’re slobs. They’re selfish. All they want is to get their rocks off on you. They’re like those little dogs that grab your leg and start humping you, ridiculous and disgusting. Apes. They think because they have a pole hanging between their legs that their God’s gift. They don’t have a clue!”

I found myself nodding along to her litany of grievances. I was half hypnotized by her, and half in sympathy of what she was saying. My dick was telling me now that he was fully recovered from the previous session and ready for more, and it was all I could do to try and keep him down as I listened to Jennifer and thought about what was about to transpire between us. I had no doubt that I was about to fuck this gorgeous piece of ass, was going to have the privilege of being the first man to touch her in what I guessed was a long, long time.

But I had to be careful, had to be patient. For some reason, this woman-loving woman was giving me a chance with her, a chance to give her pleasure. Maybe it was Lilah’s orders, maybe Jen just wanted to boss someone around for a change and didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. I had no qualms about letting her do that. I knew now that by just giving a lady what she wanted, you’d get paid back ten times over. And if that was the price for seeing Jennifer come with my dick crammed up between those gorgeous legs, I was perfectly willing to pay it.

My pride? Hey, forget it. I had more important things in mind.

But I wasn’t about to let Jennifer treat me as Lilah had done. I mean, it’s one thing if your boss ties you up and whips your ass for her amusement. I mean, she’s your boss. But I’d be damned if I was going to let my boss’ secretary treat me that way. It was a status thing. I outranked Jennifer. If anything, I should tie her ass up and pay her back for what Lilah’d done to me.

Still, I didn’t want to lose this fuck. I was aware that Jennifer hadn’t experienced the same mind-melting release that Lilah and I had. Her orgasm had been kind of second-hand, so I figured that she was still horny and hot for relief. And the way she looked, and looked at me, told me that the flames were still eating at her. My problem was how to give her what she wanted (control) while getting what I wanted (a good dickful of Jennifer) and at the same time not coming off looking like her puppy.

“Okay, Jennifer.” I said. “So you want control. Nice. I appreciate that. But I’m not going to let you make a toy out of me. You’re not Lilah. You’re Lilah’s secretary.”

A look of disgust crossed her face, and I could see the fury building in her eyes.

“But I can see where you’re coming from.” I added hastily. “And I think we can work this out.”

She sneered. “Is that right?” she asked. “How?”

“You can be the boss." I said. "I’ll let you tell me what to do, you call all the shots. All you have to do is wear the cuffs.”

I expected her to protest, or sneer again, but instead she looked at me. Her leg, encased in the tight leather boot, began to swing slightly as she thought this over, the slightest smile on her full lips.

“The cuffs?” she sniffed. “I don’t think so. How do I know you’d keep your word?”

“Are you afraid of the cuffs?” I asked her.

“Don’t be silly.” she huffed. “With Lilah, I live in them. I just don’t know if I can trust you is all.”

I scootched down the desk until I could get my feet on the floor and stand up. I kept the desk between myself and Jennifer so she wouldn’t see how hard I was.

“Look, Jennifer,” I said, “I’m going to be working with you and Lilah for a long time. At least I hope so. I want us all to get along. I want to get along with you. I want to give you what you want. What Lilah said, about your cleaning me off, hell, forget it. But if I’m any judge I’d say you’re still dying to get off, and I am too. So why don’t we just cut the crap and give each other what we want? There’s no reason we can’t both get off. And isn’t that what matters?”

“I don’t know.” she said. “Is it?” She thought about this. I was getting impatient. Those big jugs were staring at me like two eyes as she thought.

“Okay.” I said. “Tell me what you want to do.”

”What?”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.” I said. “I’ll give you a demonstration in good faith. What do you want me to do? Kiss you? Eat you out? Lick your ass? Just tell me. Try me out.”

For the first time Jennifer smiled, an amused and slightly embarrassed smile. “No.” she said.

“Come on. Control me, tell me what to do. Your wish is my fucking command. Just say what you want. I’m your dog.” I asked. “Should I crawl over there and lick your boots?”

“Don’t be sick.” she said.

“Then what? What? Just tell me.”

She looked at me to see if I was serious. Then she said with only the slightest sneer, “Okay. Yeah. Crawl over here and lick my boots. Let me see you lick my boots. On your knees.”

Without hesitating I got down on the carpet on my hands and knees and crawled over to Jennifer like a dog. She giggled self-consciously as I did, but she stopped when I actually began to lick the toe of her shiny black leather boot, running my tongue from the toe up over her instep to her ankle.

She got very quiet as I continued to kiss and lick the black leather boot, and on the occasions I flicked my eyes up to see how she was talking it I saw her staring at me intently with more than curiosity in her blue-gray eyes.

I licked my way up to the top of the boot, just below her knee, then back down. I crawled around so I could get to the back of her leg, and felt her jump as I softly bit at her calf. She sucked her breath in with a sharp hiss. Something was getting to her.

The boot tasted like leather and polish; it was very clean. I’m sure Jennifer wore them only for sex. They were too tight and the heels were too high for them to be worn on the street. They weren’t patent leather, but they were highly polished, and the one boot was soon gleaming with the trail of my saliva. Knowing that Jennifer’s sensitive flesh was a fraction on an inch from my tongue kept me going, and the little twitches I felt when I bit at her in a sensitive spot were getting me very hard.

After awhile I stopped, but remained on my hands and knees. I looked up at her face and was happy with what I saw. Her eyes were half closed, nostrils flared somewhat. Without a word she uncrossed her legs and presented me with the other boot.

“Now this one.” she whispered.

I sat back on my heels. “Wait a minute.” I said. “That was a free sample. A try out. You know what I said.”

She sighed impatiently, reluctant to break the sensual spell. “Do you really have to?”

“That was the deal, Jennifer.”

She didn’t say anything.

I got up and got the cuffs off the floor, where Jen had dropped them after taking them off me earlier. The key was still in them.

It was impossible to hide my stiff cock, so I didn’t try. I liked the look on her face when she stared at it. Women always take a certain pride in the size of the erection they cause, and Jen was looking proud.

I walked over to her and she offered her hands to me, wrists together.

“Un-unh.” I said. “Behind the back.”

She looked like she was going to protest, and her eyes searched mine in a sudden seizure of doubt. But then she slid forward in the chair and half-turning, put her hands behind her back, crossing her wrists. I saw by the way she presented her hands that she was familiar with the routine. No doubt Lilah had used them on her many times before.

I slid the cuffs around her wrists and locked them in place.

“So help me God, if you fuck around with me…”

I smiled. Having locked her wrists behind her back, I immediately got down on all fours again, lay my face against the carpet and began licking at her other boot, kissing it, sweeping it with broad licks of my tongue, showing her she had nothing to fear.

Jennifer slumped back in the chair, her imprisoned wrists forcing her tits out invitingly. She slid down until her ass was at the very edge of the chair. She lifted her boot higher, holding it straight out in front of her, offering it to me.

I held her boot in front of my face as if it were a rare and delicate piece of art, I licked along the length, tasting it, kissing it, dragging my lips along it, doing the best I could to be her obedient puppy, giving her what she wanted.

I suppose there might be a some thrill to seeing someone lick your boot, but I’ll be the first to admit I don’t quite get it. I mean, I don’t think I’d be so aroused if the boot were on the other foot, so to speak, and if it was Jennifer kneeling at my feet and licking my footwear. I could think of a lot better things she could do with her tongue than give me a spit shine. But it was having some effect on her. She was just hypnotized watching me, eyes half closed, lips slack, her breath coming hot and deepand making her heavy tits rise and fall faster and faster.

“Do the heel” she said. Her voice was low and thick.

I was playing my part by instinct, groveling at Jennifer’s feet, licking her boots, but all the time I was dying to get my mouth on her honey pot and drive my tongue into her where she’d feel it most. I wanted to hear her moan as her sweet love juice ran over my cheeks and down my throat. I wanted her to beg when I fucked my tongue up into her and softly sucked that slick clit between my hungry lips. I wanted to hear her gasp as I held those trembling ass cheeks apart with my hands while I wormed my honey dipper up into her butt hole as far as I could, I wanted to eat her up and swallow her down, pure peaches and cream, butter and honey.

She especially seemed to like it when I had to contort my body to reach the back of her boots, or bridge under her legs to reach the inside, where the black zipper was. As I lifted her boot to my mouth, I slid my fingers up her leg till I touched the bare flesh behind her knee. Involved as she was in watching me, she didn’t seem to notice. She ceded control of her legs to me, allowing me to push and pull them this way and that as I tongue-washed her boots, until, under the pretext of trying to reach the sole of her boot, I pushed her knee back against her chest. Looking down I could see the trimmed shock of blonde pubic hair, the puffy lips of her labia, the dark, blood-engorged and gleaming lips of her sex just visible between them. I was aware of the hot smell wafting off her aroused pussy, at the same time fresh and funky, her secret, hungry smell.

I’d had about enough of this game. I was hard as a rock now and ready to feel something soft and tight around my dick, and Jennifer looked like she was ready too. She wasn’t watching me anymore. She’d slid all the way down in the chair so that her hips were suspended over the edge, and they were humping instinctively in the air, looking for a cock that wasn’t there. Her eyes were closed, her lips apart, and her chin was tucked into her shoulder which rolled as she worked her hands behind her, trying unconsciously to free herself from the cuffs. If I hadn’t cuffed her hands behind her, she might now be fingering herself right in front of me, she was that hot. I would have loved to see those long fingers and elegantly manicured nails dipping into her snatch, emerging trailing strings of her lubricious oils, but I wasn’t going to unlock her now.

“That’s enough!” she breathed suddenly. “That’s enough! Stop!”

I looked up to see her eyes gazing hotly at me. They had lost their grayness, and were an intense blue

With the slightest sneer she said. “Kiss my tits now. Come up here and kiss my tits. Suck my nipples. Not hard. But suck them! Suck them! Now!”

I suppressed a grin. She was in no shape to be calling the shots now, not with her hands cuffed behind her back. I could grab those legs and spread them and be inside her before she even knew what was happening, and there’s not a thing she could do about it. But that’s not what I wanted to do. Not yet.

I was already on my knees between her legs. It was natural to just lean over to take her tits into my mouth. She must have known this,. She spread her legs to give me access.

Taking care not to so much as touch her with my cock, I leaned over her body. I gathered up the two hot and heavy globes of meat and filled my hands with them, so soft and turgid, almost swollen. I often think that hands were made especially for appreciating a woman’s tits, their heft, their warmth, their heavy resilience. It just drives me fucking wild.

I closed my hands on her flesh, squeezed tenderly, rubbed my thumbs over the sensitive aureoles, making her gasp, then held her jugs together and lowered my head to them, licking gentle circles around the nipples as my thumbs continued to rub over the margins of the sensitive brown circles.

She groaned raggedly and her face reddened. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Not to brag, but I pride myself on my titwork, knowing just when to attack, just when to back off, taking my cues from a woman’s face and her body language. Some women are very sensitive, some ticklish, some need strong stimulation, even to the point of pain. You pay attention, and she’ll let you know where and how hard to kiss, suck, when to drag a rough tongue across an aroused and turgid nipple, when to pinch, even when to bite.