Fetish

Keywords: Ch., I, 04, Pay, Price, the,

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*Author's Note:* "I've received some requests to continue this storyline, even though I thought it had come to a natural conclusion with Ch. 3. Being a man and therefore completely unable to resist most female requests (especially if they're reasonable), I've tried to oblige. I'm not sure if it will be as well-received, but I did enjoy writing it and it's another ultimate male fantasy! Any feedback you may have, positive or negative, is always welcome."

I was here again, just outside Mr. K.'s door. But this time, I was here of my own choosing, not because I was being blackmailed. The realization I had come to after three 'sessions' with Mr. K. was undeniable. I was ruined for regular sex. He'd changed something fundamentally in me. It had been over a month since I'd been given 'parole' by my boss – and a more tortured, confused and miserable month I can't remember.

I spent a week recovering from his third sexually focused punishment. I spent another week in a mental fog, analyzing hopelessly my situation, but knowing deep down that I was trapped in my new paradigm. I'd spent the following two weeks discreetly trying to convince my boss to 'punish' me again – without success – the guy was OBTUSE.

I'd smiled shyly at him. I'd tried to make myself as 'available' as possible by often going by his office for trivial things. I'd tried dressing properly, but provocatively at the same time. He never so much as asked me how my weekend was – just like he'd always been, before ruining me for normal sexual relations – all business, never giving me an opening to introduce my desires naturally.

It looked like in this respect, Mr. K. was like every other man (that I'd known, at least) – he didn't have a FUCKING CLUE. Did I have to spell it out on a highway billboard for him? How could a successful businessman (and someone so sexually dominant as well) have NO intuition in this regard? Unbelievable.

I considered briefly finding another man to carry this through with (wouldn't that serve him right!). But I knew he had the goods in the bedroom – and I didn't have enough experience in this new realm to know whether any guy could do it for me, or if it was something inherent in Mr. K. that drove me over the edge. Plus, who knew how many psychos were out there – my boss was psycho enough, but at least I hand confidence in the fact that he wouldn't permanently damage me.

So finally, frustrated to the extreme, I went to his office and, embarrassedly, laid it out in front of him. Again, the conversation didn't really go as planned.

"What do you need?"

"I want you to treat me the same way you did...before"

He was nonplussed. Evidently, he STILL didn't know what I was talking about.

"I want to come over to your house again...like when I did before...and I want you to use me like you did...before."

A light came into his eyes and he looked thoughtfully at me (FUCKING GENIUS – I only had to spell out 99% of it to him).

"Have you stolen from me again!"

"No - nothing like that. I just want to come over to your house again. I want you to use me like you did before," said shyly, uncertain – I had no idea what his reaction would be – he was so unreadable.

"You mean that you want me to treat you like my own personal sex-toy...do whatever I want."

Exactly. Eureka. Wow – was this guy dumb.

"Yes, Mr. K." was all that I said.

Now the business persona that Mr. K. always had on at the office dropped. He looked at me frankly...and very sexually, appraising me now as an 'object', rather than as a person. I immediately felt warm.

"Say it, Miss X," he spoke in a measured tone, "Say – 'I want you to make me into your own personal sex-toy.'"

His tone brooked no refusal. I didn't want to refuse anyway. This was my new paradigm. This is what I needed. "Mr. K., I want you to make me into your own personal sex-toy. Please, do anything you want with me."

"Be at my house at 1:00 pm on Sunday," he said with a note of dismissal and turned back to his work.

Sunday! That was three more days away! I'd have to get through all of tomorrow at work and then Saturday as well. I didn't say anything, though. I had what I wanted. I gave him another shy smile and I got out while the getting was good.

I knocked on his door. He opened it and led me into his house.

The TV was on and blathering some sports nonsense. Mr. K. was dressed in his usual garb - a pair of slacks and a collared shirt. Of course, I was dressed in my 'Mr. K. special' – a short skirt, blouse, panties and bra and a pair of fuck-me heels.

"Good, you're on time. The game's about to begin."

The game? What was he talking about? Here I was, ready to go, ready to get spanked and fucked and whatever else he wanted to do to me...and he was talking about a game? But Mr. K. had already sat down on his couch, looking at me expectantly.

Sensing my confusion and uncertainty, he offered a longer explanation. "It's Sunday. The Raiders are playing and I plan on enjoying the game with my new sex-toy," he said – and smiled.

Now it was my turn to be nonplussed. I continued to stare at him stupidly.

"Miss X, I didn't ask you to come here. You asked to come here. You're free to go, but if you'd like to stay, then you need to be over here and on your knees before kick-off."

"This wasn't what I had in mind," I said.

"That's unfortunate for me, although not necessarily unexpected. I'll see you back at the office then...Oh, and please refrain from saying that you want to be my 'personal sex-toy' in the future when you don't really mean it."

There it was, in black and white. He'd taken me at my word, when I didn't fully realize what my word had meant. It was just like Mr. K. to turn the tables on me like this. He had kept me jumping in my first three encounters with him, never knowing what to expect next – why should it be different now.

Of course, faced with that statement, no further words were necessary. I immediately assumed my now-familiar position, on my knees, between his legs and unzipped his fly. As my mouth sank down around his semi-rigid shaft, a welter of emotions and thoughts ran through me. Of course, it was terrible that I'd be sucking my boss's cock as he watched a football game! I should have his undivided attention. On the other hand, I had to give him credit for original thought. He'd made me repeat back to him at his office that I wanted him to make into his "own personal sex-toy." I think I'd even added a phrase to the effect that I wanted him to do anything he wanted with me...and here he was, doing whatever HE wanted with me, not whatever I wanted him to do to me.

The familiar taste and feel of his bigger-than-average fuck-muscle growing inside my mouth served to transport my thoughts even further into a submissive frame of mind. It was kind of hot, after all, to suck the cock of a man while he was watching football. It made me feel kind of wanton and sluttish to know that I was servicing a guy clever enough to maneuver to the point where he could watch football, consume beer 'n pretzels (today he'd switched from his usual gin 'n tonic) and have a young, nubile woman on her knees with her mouth on his cock all at the same time! Sure, the lamest of male fantasies, but I had to give him credit – he was living it out!

As the game started behind me on the television, I settled in for a long session of cock-sucking. I knew from experience that Mr. K. had unusual control and, with the game as a distraction, I had no illusions that my lips would be numb by the time I felt my boss's cum erupt from his cock on its short journey from his balls to my digestive system (and I had no illusions about where his jism would end up – he was pretty predictable about that, at least – if not predictable in the way I'd like him to be – cum-tasting, not to mention, cum-swallowing was not my favorite activity).

The steady rhythm of my head bobbing up and down on his member put me into a semi-trance like state. I found my concentration zero in on a very small number of things – the feel of his shaft sliding remorselessly, tirelessly, in and out of my mouth; the bumps and ridges along his member, now rock-hard, now a little bit softer and how they felt sliding along and across my lips and tongue; the movement of my head back and forth; the placement of my hands – one at the base of his shaft – the other cupping and fondling his balls.

I got into a cock-sucking zone, so to speak. It was like Mr. K. was disembodied from his cock. He was watching the game and I was sucking his cock. I gauged my progress by monitoring both my nemesis and my best friend – his cock became my whole world. When it was semi-hard, I knew that his cock was distracted. When it was hard, I knew I had his cock's attention. When it was rock-hard (a condition only slightly different, but nevertheless noticeable), I knew that his cock, at least, wasn't distracted at all.

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer on the television. Mr. K. grunted in disgust. A bunch of excited, meaningless sports chatter and after 30 seconds or so, I heard "...and the extra point is good. We'll break now and come back for the kickoff."

At that, Mr. K. grabbed my hair roughly and pulled me up and over his lap. The first swat of his hand against my panty and skirt-covered ass was HARD. I oommphed in surprise. The next several spanks were just as hard, and not accompanied by any soothing massage between spanks.

"Get your clothes off and get back on my cock," was all he said as he ended my spanking after just a very few strokes. Hopefully for you, they won't be scoring any more touchdowns.

As I disrobed, prior to resuming my oral chores, I glanced quickly at the television as the game came back on. It was Raiders-0, Some team with a bird on its helmet-7. Naked now, except for my heels and panties (which he told me to keep on), I again took his cock into my mouth. I was pleased to see it still standing stiffly at attention. I pushed my mouth deeply down onto his prick, taking as much as I could, short of actually stuffing it into my throat (we'd get to that soon enough, I was sure).

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Keywords: Ch., I, 04, Pay, Price, the,