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Larue walked through the dark hallway of the club, pensive and uncomfortable as he always was when he showed up here. But anxious to find his relief.
He’s been coming here for a few years now, but for the last six months, he’s been an exclusive customer of Katrina (not her real name). She’s stunning: Tall, creamy skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. And she absolutely wrecks him.
As he approaches the door to her room, he knocks three times, as she always requests.
“Come in,” he hears her voice say. Like Pavlov’s dogs, the blood immediately rushes to his groin.
“Hello, darling,” she coos to him. Her face flashes sternly in a second. “Get on the fucking floor.”
Larue tosses his jacket on a chair and kneels. Katrina stands in front of him, her thigh-high boots, fishnet stockings, and tight black dress meeting his eyeline.
“You’re here for relief. It’s good to see you again,” she says, running her long fingernails through his neatly combed salt and pepper hair. Larue nods, knowing not to speak. Once he’s in the room, he says nothing unless he’s commanded.
“So darling, let’s see what we can do tonight...” she coos into his ear, causing his body to shudder.
“Take off your clothes. Leave your underwear,” Katrina demands, standing with her arms crossed while she watches him. “Lose your glasses, too.”
Larue sighs. He can’t see well without them, and he wants to see her most of all. But he’s a rule-follower. That’s why he works for the IRS. He does as he’s told, but he’s uncomfortable – truly naked – without his spectacles.
She joins him on her knees, kneeling to meet him face to face, grabbing his cheeks in one hand.
“You’re a naughty little boy, and you’re here for punishment. I’m going to punish you.” He nearly sighs in eagerness.
“I’m going to sit here, and you’re going to be my footstool. Understood?” Larue nods quickly. This is a new activity but he’s eager to try. He can feel himself throbbing at her demands.
As he kneels on all fours, Katrina puts her feet on his back, one of her heels slightly digging into his lean, muscular back. He winces but doesn’t complain. The feeling of her body touching his, even in this way, is making it hard not to touch himself. He grazes his cock beneath his boxer briefs. But she sees him do it.
She moves a leg to lightly kick him in his ass. “Stop it. I didn’t say you could do that, did I?” He shakes his head in agreement. “Don’t do it again.”
He gulps down his arousal and tries to not think about how hard his cock is and how desperately it needs friction. The pressure of the carpet and the cement floor underneath are hard on his wrists and knees. He can feel the ache in his bones. He moans slightly as he struggles.
“Hey! No talking, no noises,” Katrina scolds, whipping his ass with her ruler. Larue only finds this more of a turn-on. Every whip, every syllable she speaks, he finds himself growing harder. The sting creeps through his nerves with a delicious trail of heat.
Katrina takes out a magazine and begins to read aloud. It’s a New Yorker article – he knows this much about her, she’s intelligent, which is why he’s so attached to her specifically. Listening to her voice read an article about political turmoil is making him ache.
He shifts slightly, again brushing his hand against his cock for even a moment of relief. He hopes she doesn’t see, but he kind of wants her to, too.
“What did I fuckin’ say?” Katrina says softly but sternly through gritted teeth, which is an indicator of punishment to come. She slaps him harder on the ass with her ruler and moves to the back of his thighs to hit the soft skin there. He whimpers slightly, making her smile.
“Your whining only makes me want to do this more, you know,” she snarls at him, raising the ruler back for another slap. She can see the red stripe of discomfort on his thighs. In his head, Larue is savoring every moment of this. The sting on his thighs brings him a pressure in his gut he can’t describe.
As she finishes the article, she removes her feet gingerly so as not to hurt him and moves to a chair in the corner of the room. He doesn’t move, following her strict instructions.
“Crawl to me, and bring your tie,” she says to him, and he obliges. His cock is nearly leaking in anticipation.
Katrina watches him crawl to her, his hair a mess from her hands, his thick, hard length bobbing as he makes his way across the plush carpeting to her. He’s her favorite customer, she thinks. She can’t tell him that; it breaks the bonds of what this relationship is. But she loves his kind eyes, his soft, velvety voice. She knows he’s smart. She knows he’s an accountant of some kind. She’s seen the magazines and newspapers under his arm when he comes by after a day at the office. He carries a briefcase. He speaks with advanced vocabulary when he’s allowed to talk, that is. Her heart blossoms as he gets closer.
And with all of these charms, she also knows he’s hung like a fucking horse and could absolutely demolish her if she asked. But she doesn’t ask.
When he’s at her feet, he’s kneeling back on his heels, looking at her adoringly and waiting for the next demand.
Katrina stands and circles him, running her fingers through his hair again.
“You come here for relief, but whatever could you have done to want such punishment,” she coos to him. His mouth hangs open for a second, unsure if she’s requesting he speak. He closes his mouth.
“You can speak,” she says.
“I... I lead a humdrum life. I find no excitement in my career. I have little leisure to explore,” he says, eyes casting down to his thighs and the carpet in front of him. Everything is blurry without his glasses. “This fills me with adrenaline. I need it.”
Katrina bends down to tilt his chin up, her piercing blue eyes looking into his deep chocolate pools. She wants to melt into the floor with him; he’s so handsome, so sweet. But this is a business transaction. She has an idea.
“Stand up. Remove your underwear and sit on the chair,” she commands. He does as he’s told, silently. His cock is still noticeable in his boxer briefs, and she salivates as she watches him remove it from the cotton.
She licks her lips instinctively. He catches her and smiles slightly. She doesn’t punish him. She lets him enjoy her reaction.
As she crosses the room, she removes a box of condoms from a chest of drawers. Larue knows that sex can be part of this plan, but he’s not done it with her. His breath hitches when he sees her remove it from the package, bending down to roll it onto him.
He says nothing. He’s following the rules. The contract states what he is and isn’t comfortable with. He said he was comfortable with this, but it’s never come up. Some things don’t, even if you tick them on your contract.
She’s not done this with a client. Not ever. Usually, they finish themselves, or she helps them with her hand. But she’s never done... this. And she wants to with him.
He’s going to spear me in half, she thinks lustfully. I can’t wait.
“You’re going to sit there. Still. Don’t move. Don’t buck or thrust. Give me your hands,” Katrina commands. He holds his hands up to her, his cock still hard and wanting what’s next. She uses his tie to bind his hands. “No touching.”
She removes her underwear and her dress, left in nothing but a lacy black bra and her thigh-high fishnets and boots. Her body is more exquisite than Larue could ever have imagined. He knew she had beautiful breasts under there, but seeing them here makes him nearly unravel. The dip of her waist and her fleshy hips make his fingers hungry for touch.
But no touching, she said. He swallows his fantasies down.
Katrina moves to straddle his hips, lining him up and sinking herself onto him. Despite what she does for a living, she’s not advanced at sex. In fact, her sexual experience – actual intercourse – is limited. And he can tell based on how tight she is as she sinks lower and lower.
Her breath hitches at the feeling of fullness his length gives her. She knew it would be delicious, but she didn’t know it would be delirious. She throws her head back and gasps in pleasure. Larue smiles, happy to see her respond so positively to his body.
His hands are bound by the ties, but he could still reach out and touch her – grab her breast, touch that beautiful waist – but he’s following instructions. He keeps his wrists close to his chest, not touching her or even grazing her beautiful skin.
Katrina struggles to not bounce on his cock and bring herself relief. So for now, she sits still.
“I’m going to be your cockwarmer,” Katrina whispers in his ear. “You’re not going to move, touch or buck. And you’re going to recite a tax code.”
Larue’s eyes go wide. His mind is almost blank with arousal. He can’t think of anything except the soft folds of her flesh around his cock, how it’s probably leaking under the condom. How badly he wants to hold her and fuck her until she sees stars.
“Ah, um...” he studders. Katrina lightly slaps his face, holding his chin in her right hand.
“No stalling. Start.”
He combs his mind for things he can recite from memory, especially while he’s distracted by this beautiful creature on his cock.
“U.S. Tax Code Chapter 95 – Presidential election campaign...” he starts, his voice hitching. But thinking about this one, one he had to learn a lot about with the last administration, he feels more confident. He takes a breath.
“Chapter 95, Code 9003 – condition for eligibility for payments,” he starts. “Ah – In order to be eligible to receive any payments under section 9006, the candidates of a political party in a presidential election should, in writing, agree to obtain and furnish to the Commission such evidence as it may request the qualified campaign expenses of such candidates...”
Katrina moans slightly. Despite how boring it sounds she’s turned on by intelligence. And the hard, throbbing cock inside of her.
“They shall agree to keep and furnish to the Commission such records, books, and other information as it may request,” Larue continues, trying to focus on the task and not her breathy moans on his cheek. His hands are twisting in the binds of his tie, desperate to break free...
“In order to be eligible to receive payments under section 9006, candidates of a new party in a presidential election must certified to the Commission, under penalty of perjury, that they will not incur qualified campaign expenses in excess of the aggregate payment to which candidates of a major party are entitled under section 9004...”
Katrina moves her hands to his hair, raking her long nails through it, making his groan slightly behind his throat. She doesn’t punish him. She knows he’s loving this, and she wants him to enjoy it. She’s enjoying it, too.
“In any case in which an individual ceases to be a candidate as a result of the operation... the candidate shall no longer be... eligible to receive any payments under section 9006...” Larue is struggling to complete the sentence, as Katrina shifts slightly, moving up and down on his cock – giving the little bit of tight friction he’s been craving.
“Keep going... baby...” Katrina says, moaning. She’s never called him that before. He nearly unravels. He wants to break through the binds on his wrist, grab her, and bounce her on his cock until they both shatter.
“Section 9004... the eligible candidates of each major party shall be entitled to equal payments...” he says, gasping slightly. “If the candidate of one or more political parties for the office of President was a candidate for such office in a preceding election and received 5 percent or more but less than 25 percent of the total number of votes received by all candidates for such office...”
Katrina puts her hands on his shoulder, moves her lips to his ear, and licks. She can’t take it anymore. The fullness inside her needs movement, it needs friction. She’s going to break her own rule.
“Fuck me.”
She removes the tie from his wrists, and he immediately grabs her fleshy hips and groans at the sensation of her skin in his hands.
He doesn’t speak another word, waiting for another command.
“Let it go, you can talk, talk to me baby,” Katrina says breathlessly, eager to get a move on.
His hands roam her lacy bra and brush her nipples. She throws her head back in pleasure as he bucks up once into her heat. “Oh, fuck!” she gasps, nearly leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Does... does that feel good?” he whispers to her with that voice that makes her legs weak.
“Oh, baby, it feels so fucking good,” she whispers to him, leaning close to his lips and kissing him ever-so-gently. She licks his bottom lip and he groans.
“Good,” he answers, meeting her tongue with his. He grabs onto her hips and begins to buck in earnest. She’s colliding down as he’s pushing up, and the friction and anticipation is almost too much. Her body is firing off sparks through every nerve ending she has.
Her mouth hangs open in pleasure, eyes clenched as she feels the pressure inside her build. She’s never been fucked like this, and she’s glad she chose him.
“Oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” she moans, nearly crying. She leans forward and squeaks into his ear. He ropes his long, lean arms around her back to keep the pressure close to their hips as he continues pushing into her.
Larue groans loudly. “Ah, fuck, you’re so sexy... so beautiful, baby...” he’s cooing praises to her, making her heart swell. She leans in to kiss him again as the pressure reaches a boiling point.
“Ah, ah!” she shouts, her walls fluttering erratically around him. “I’m f-fucking c-coming,” she stutters. He can feel her warmth pooling around him, driving him to push harder.
He leans forward to kiss her shoulder, collarbone, her neck. His plush lips feel just as good on her body as they do on her lips. His hands travel the curves of her body, leaving a wake of heat in their path. She uses her knees on the chair to push herself up and down on him faster, feeling the friction building pressure again.
Their shared panting and deep breaths are that can be heard. He’s fucking into her at a similar pace, hard and fast. As she starts to come undone again, she arches her back and sighs to the ceiling. Watching her like this, pooling around him, is too much.
His cock stiffens again, twitching familiarly as he reaches his own peak of ecstasy. She can feel it and returns to him. “Do it baby, let go,” she whispers in his ear.
“F-fuck, baby. Fuck,” he’s panting. It’s so uncharacteristic to hear such a tidy, professional man like him curse. It drives her passion. He grunts as he lets his orgasm ripple through his body, filling the condom to the brim. As his hips studder to a stop, their bodies sticky with sweat, she smiles at him.
“Whe-where did that come from,” he asks gently, still amazed and utterly spent from their escapade.
“I... just really wanted you. I like you,” she says to him, her eyes full of kindness. He smiles at her. “I like you, too.”
She swings her legs off his lap, removing his cock from her dripping sex, now totally satisfied. He quietly gathers his clothes and dresses himself. She watches his muscles flex in his arms, back, and shoulder as he puts his crisp, white business shirt back on. She resists the urge to embrace him. Something’s shifted in this relationship, but she also needs to be professional.
“Thank you, Katrina. Until next time,” he says, heading for the door.
In a split second, she almost asks him to stay. To go out for dinner. To have a real date. Almost.
“Have a good night,” she answers, as he closes the door behind him.