Plump~4

All worked up and nowhere to put it, she mused. Sitting in her car in the parking lot, key in the ignition, she pondered the last few minutes at the club, trying to see how he’d managed to not only totally turn her thinking around, but to totally turn her on as well, then send her on her way with all but a pat on the bum and a see-you-around-soon.

“Might as well have been ‘don’t let the screen door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!” she said aloud. Why had he shown her the door? It hadn’t been a total bum rush, but he’d not encouraged her to stay and hang out, either. Which was odd. He was attracted, he’d said so.

Hadn’t he?

Turning the key, she started her car, still trying to work her mind around the convoluted conversation. He had to have said he was attracted to her…or at the very least alluded to it. He had spoken of them becoming an item, of that she was sure.

She wasn’t sure if that pissed her off or excited her, but judging by the squirmy feeling in her pants, the scale weighed heavier on the excited way of things.

Then there was the encounter with that woman. Wow. If she was ever to swing even a little bit into the homo side of the equation? She’d likely be on her knees, begging that Domme’s  attention. Of course, she was likely used to the adoration of many, and just as likely, only chose a few. She’d met other Dommes when she was back home- she paused that thought, mentally redirecting herself. This was home now. Before was just another part of the past. Anyway, she thought, she’d rarely been so affected by someone of her own gender before. But Madame Fornea had that rarest of gifts, a true magnetism.

Turning onto the street that lead her home, she knew she’d never met anyone as immediately fascinating as Madame F. It was more than just sexual. There was that indefinable something that drew one in, made one want to be close, closer than close, to her. She listened with her whole self, and that was a gift in this day and age. She realized that Sir….Michael had that trait as well. Shifting in her seat, she noticed the wafting scent of arousal. Geeze. She couldn’t even think of him without being aroused.

“Stop. Just stop. Park the car, and go take a cold shower.”

************************************************

She shook herself out of the daydream, and refocused on her computer monitor. She had to run the figures one last time, and she’d be done. Trying to not think about Sir Michael made him seem to float into her mind even more frequently.

He needed to stop doing that.

“Addison?”

The call through her intercom startled her. She picked up the phone, listening a moment before issuing a soft “I’ll be right there.”

Taking the folder from the corner of her desk, moving hastily she went out her door, and down the long corridor to her boss’ office. A quick knock was followed by an equally quick reply to enter.

Going over the folder contents with Ms. Silverstein, they were interrupted by her private secretary.

“A Mr. Millett is here to see you, Ms. Silverstein.”

“Yes, I was expecting him. I forgot to tell you. We squeezed this in between his meeting schedule and mine. Do send him in please Natalie,” she replied, before turning to Addison. “We’ll have to finish this later, dear. I’ll ring you when my meeting is done.”

Dismissed, Addy slipped out of the office, and bumped into the man waiting outside the door. Hands grabbed her, then ran down her arms to capture her wrists for a moment.

“Well, well, look at you, crashing into me like this. It must be fate.”

She blinked up into the smiling face of the asshat from the club. The one who’d looked at her like she was a slab of tenderloin. She pulled her hands from his, or attempted to. She knew her right wrist would be bruised from his grip.

Her eyes flashed hot.

“I’m sorry to have bumped into you. Ms. Silverstein is ready for you now.”

She tried to move past him, but he retained his grip on her wrist.

“I’ll stop by your office on my way out…to discuss things with you.”

With another hard squeeze on her wrist, he smiled at her, a predator with prey between his claws, before sliding into her boss’ office. She hurried down the hall, not wanting Natalie to ask about the little scene. Thoughts of what the hell she was going to do now bounced around her head, but she was no closer to a solution when she heard his footfalls in the corridor.

“Here she is,” she heard Natalie say, then a murmured reply. In a moment, Natalie’s heels tap-a-tapped down the hall back to her office.

Her door opened, without even the pretense of a knock. He stepped inside, his grin feral as ever.

“We seem to have a situation here,” he said, his eyes roaming her body. “You work here and I know something that I’m sure you don’t want made public.”

“I know the same thing about you–”

His head began to shake ‘no’ even as she spoke.

“Isn’t the same for men as women. You skirts have to work twice as hard in being discreet, at being a model persona. Your boss won’t want pictures of you in a corset, your tits all but bare, gracing the cover of the morning news.”

“The news doesn’t show that sort of thing…”

“Of course they don’t. They’ll put a filter over it or something, but there will be talk, and speculation and who needs that for their company profile. But I can protect you from all that. Come here.”

Her back straightened.

“No.”

“Are you so certain then, my dear, that your career can withstand this sort of humiliation and embarrassment?”

He stepped up to her desk, then reached out, snake-quick, and grabbed her left breast, pinching firmly.

“You have lovely tits. I want to hurt them. I want them. I want you. And I get what I want. I’ll wait for your answer by tomorrow noon.”

Shock had kept her immobile, though she decided not fighting would be better, like taming a bad puppy, don’t give it attention when it does a poor job. She swallowed hard, refused to look at him. The fingers slipped away from her breast, his feet moved to the door.

“I have your card. I’ll call you at noon.”

The door shut with a quiet snick behind him.

 

 

About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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13 Responses to Plump~4

  1. Isabel says:

    Oooooooo – blackmail!!!

    Isabel

  2. monkey says:

    Time for the white hats, Uh, I mean black leathers, to ride in to the rescue!

  3. How strange it is that you write this chapter just after posting your lovely left breast just a day before. Love it. Tip

  4. olivia says:

    Love love love this!! Don’t stop now. Please.

    • vanillamom says:

      What happened to all that free time I used to have when my kids were little? Nowadays I’m lucky to have time twice a week…but I’m feeling good about this one…more installments to come…hopefully sooner than later!

      nilla

  5. Cara Thereon says:

    Oh no. I don’t like this at all. What a douchenozzle

  6. Pingback: Plump~5 | Vanillamom's Blog

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