Do What You Want Page 2
The soft tread of footsteps on carpet had Preston’s eyes lifting from the bed, and he sighed softly as he gazed upon the pressed, black, pinstriped slacks of his Sir. Preston barely resisted the urge to sink to his knees and lower his head. They weren’t doing a scene, and he hadn’t been told to do so, and yet the dominance that flowed from the man in front of him, especially on Monday mornings, always made Preston a little weak.
Then again, it could just be DD. Dick Deprivation. Or Dom Deprivation. Either/or.
“You look good and tasty all wet and clean, boy,” that deep voice drifted over Preston’s skin, and he bit his lower lip.
“Thank you, Sir. I wanted to be clean before work this morning.”
“Good. I do not want my boy to make a bad impression upon his coworkers or his boss, now do I? Because that would reflect badly upon me.”
“No, Sir.”
Preston kept his eyes lowered, focused on the edge of the bed, even when his Sir moved like he intended to pick up the thick, silicone butt plug he’d obviously brought over with him, because Preston absolutely did not have one that large in his house. Preston trembled when his Sir ran a hand down over his naked back to the edge of his towel. He groaned when the larger man ripped the fabric away from his body and crossed his arm around Preston’s torso in a firm grip, resting his hand on Preston’s shoulder. In anyone else’s arms, Preston would have felt trapped, contained, as if his life were in danger, but held this way by his Sir, he felt safe, cared for.
“Word,” came the deep rumble from behind him. Preston’s eyes slid closed, just the growl from his Sir and the unrestrained embrace causing his mind to enter subspace, that floaty feeling taking over. A warmth filled his limbs, even as an arousing zing shot through him.
“Daffodils,” he responded with his safeword immediately. Though he knew they would not have time to do a full scene, he also knew that his Sir would make him fly and send him to work with a blissful smile on his face.
“Grab your ankles and count, beautiful,” his Sir said before releasing him.
Preston did so without hesitation, anticipation rushing through him. He felt the light, almost nonexistent stroke of his Sir’s hand on his back and his ass before he received the first whack on the opposite butt cheek. Preston moaned, the force of the blow causing him to rock forward into the side of the bed slightly. Another soft stroke, and Preston anticipated receiving one hard slap to the opposite ass cheek, but he was startled when multiple smacks rained down on his upturned bottom, on different sides, spots, and strengths, each one designed to send him to the edge of his pleasure, the edge of his control. Preston’s cock was rock hard. Leaking precum like a sieve beneath him, the head of his dick was an angry purple color, demanding release, but Preston did not plead for release, he only continued to count as he had been ordered, though his body trembled.
Yet when he did not think he could take any more, his body trembling, sweating— the shower he had taken now a complete waste— the spanking ceased, and the globes of his ass were gripped in his Sir’s hands and pulled apart. Preston’s eyes squeezed closed when he felt the first swipe of the man’s tongue. His entire body trembled, his hands clenching his ankles, and Preston wondered if one could pass out from pleasure.
He heard a dark chuckle from behind him.
“Stand up and go lean over the arm of the chair so I can put in your plug. I will not rim you today. You have not earned it yet.”
Preston sighed and rose to his full height. He hesitated for only a moment, unsure if he wanted to pout or say thank you. No one could eat an ass like his Sir, and yet… no one could eat an ass like his Sir. Preston was sure to shoot his load if the man so much as stuck the tip of his tongue into Preston’s hole, which would get him punished— ice bath, dear God, not that again— but at the same time, sometimes a punishment was worth it. Gritting his teeth, Preston lowered his eyes again and barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at his indecisiveness.
“Yes Sir.”
Walking over to the golden armchair, which his children had more than once asked him about, Preston leaned over the outer arm that was much higher than the arm that sat against the wall. It was a uniquely made spanking/fucking chair. Something he had no plans to ever explain to his children or anyone else. How would he explain that anyway? I had this made so that I could have it in my home, and it blended in without sticking out too much, but also so I could have something for me and my Sir. Yeah, that would go over well.
Preston leaned over the arm of the chair and held on to the other arm. Preston waited in breathless anticipation for his Sir’s wide hand to settle upon his naked ass. He wanted to squirm. To shuffle his feet, but he didn’t. He had to hold still while he waited. This was all part of it.
The waiting.
The patience.
The anticipation.
The longing.
Preston’s fingers clenched the fabric of the chair as his toes curled into the thick, plush, green carpet beneath his feet. The muscles and tendons in his legs trembled, and Preston bit his lower lip to hold back his whimper as he listened to Sir’s footsteps slowly make their way toward him.
Oh God. Yes. Finally.
Manicured fingernails trailed down Preston’s back, from the base of his neck to the top of his ass, and Preston hissed at the sensation. His Sir didn’t indulge in what most would call “fluffy” or “frivolous” pursuits. He didn’t spend his free time shopping, only traveled if it was for work, and rarely went to the beach. Preston’s Sir was a businessman when he wasn’t wearing his Dom hat, and he looked the part— from his perfectly styled hair, to his nails and toes and tanned skin— he made Preston drool every time he came over. And when Sir used those fingernails on Preston’s skin or his nipples, it always served to drive Preston wild.
Preston gasped when the sting from a hard slap ricocheted through his left ass cheek. The sharp sting quickly morphed into pleasure, and Preston wiggled, seeking more from his Sir. The deep, husky chuckle from behind him only served to make Preston seek more of his Sir’s approval. Three rapid-fire smacks followed, alternating spots and cheeks, before Sir rubbed his hand over Preston’s rear for a long moment.
Even though Preston knew his feet were firmly planted on the floor, could feel his toes curling into the carpet with each smack on his upturned ass, the rest of his body felt weightless, disjointed. He felt as if he were flying, soaring above it all.
This. This was one of the main reasons he always answered when Sir texted and called him. Preston did not trust anyone else to make him fly this way. There were not many other Doms with whom Preston could relax enough, could let down his guard enough with, in order to sink into subspace. And he knew it was the same for Sir. He had watched his Sir and knew the man did not trust easily either. Preston knew him in a way that others did not. It was another reason Preston was able to fly so quickly; their relationship was equally give and take between them both.
When the spanking stopped, Preston wanted to protest, longing for it to continue, but he knew how things went. He wasn’t allowed to talk. Not yet. So he remained silent. He was rewarded for it when mere moments later, the tip of a lubed plug was pressed gently against his puckered entrance.
“Push out,” Sir demanded, and Preston nodded.
“Yes, Sir,” he replied and hissed when the plug was pushed inside of him. The burn was intense, the bite of pain causing him to bite down on his lower lip, and yet Preston could feel his erection dripping precum. God above, it felt amazing. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold back. Especially as he felt the plug being pulled out and pushed back in. Out then in. It was wiggled within his hole, causing his eyelids to tighten closed further. Preston shivered at the delicious sensation as his Sir fucked him with the plug, feeling his balls draw close to his body on the verge of blowing his load. He released a shuddering breath as Sir finally settled the plug within him.
“Tsk-tsk,” Sir admonished him. “Are you going to come?”
“Turn around.”
Preston did so with no hesitation, keeping his arms folded behind his back and his head lowered. He shivered when one finger of his Sir’s hand trailed up the side of his hard length, the manicured nail flicking underneath the head of Preston’s shaft. He grunted and clenched his fingers around his arms, exhilarating in the blissful agony of his Dom’s touch.
“So beautifully responsive.” Those were the only words spoken before Preston watched the tops of his Sir’s black wingtip shoes move away, only to return seconds later, his Sir’s large hands holding the chastity device. Preston’s ass clenched around the plug inside of it, and he kept his gaze rooted on the floor as his Sir grabbed hold of his erection to place his cage upon it. He waited with bated breath as his Sir opened the stainless steel device that, to Preston, had always looked like a mask.
There was a circle that closed around the base of his shaft, and his balls connected to a series of smaller circles that led their way up his cock to the tip that had a circle which pressed to the tip. All of this was fastened and held together by a small padlock… that his Sir held the key to. While Preston would be teased and on edge all day by his Sir, unable to come, he knew it would all be worth it when he was finally given permission. He felt floaty and weightless as he thought about that moment when he was given the command, and a small smile came to his face.
Preston blinked when he felt a sharp tug on his nipples. Hearing his Sir chuckle, Preston realized that being placed in his cage had caused him to sink into subspace. Well, that’s new.
“Time to get dressed,” Sir said.
Preston nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Walking slowly and gingerly over to his bed, Preston picked up the boyshorts and bent over to push one foot and then the other through the legs of the undergarment. He let out a soft moan as the soft, lacy, cotton material caressed the skin of his legs before he settled his manties, his male panties, upon his waist. He glanced over at his Sir, sitting in a chair, watching him silently, and continued to get dressed. He then pulled on the black garter belt before sliding on the sheer black stockings and affixed the two together. Grabbing the corset next, Preston wrapped it around his bare torso and snapped each eyehook into place from the bottom to the top, swallowing back the lustful moan that threatened when he saw the desire darkening his Sir’s gaze.
He had to put on his suit for work, which was always a disappointment, having to cover up what his Dom had so beautifully picked out for him, but he had to look presentable for work, so Preston walked over to his closet and pulled down his own black-and-gray pinstripe suit with its light-gray button-down shirt, slim white tie, and diamond cufflinks, and walked back to the bed. With quick efficiency, he pulled on each item, acutely aware of Sir’s watchful eye. When he finished, Preston bent over and slipped the black, patent leather high-heeled pumps onto his feet, knowing that there was a pair of black wingtips in the trunk of his car.
Preston stood up and turned to face his Sir, who rose gracefully from his chair. He looked up at the man who watched him with an almost predatory gaze. Preston shivered when his hair was gripped in his Sir’s large hand and his head yanked back.
“Open.”
Preston opened his mouth and accepted the bruising kiss, closing his eyes as he reveled in the feeling of Sir’s tongue mapping the inside of his mouth, his teeth, and dueling with his own slick muscle. He kept his mouth open even after his Sir lifted his head and stared down at him, a long trail of saliva flowing from the bigger man’s lips into his own.
“Swallow.”
Preston did, without hesitation, and smiled and groaned when he received a smack on his well-spanked ass as a reward.
“I’ll see you at the office. Don’t forget my coffee and cinnamon bagel,” Sir said.
Preston nodded. “Yes Sir, Mr. Moreno.” He watched as his Sir, his boss, walked out of the bedroom, and then set about cleaning up. He didn’t have time to waste.
****
Chapter Three
Reginald Van-Moreno walked to the elevator with a determined stride and a scowl on his face. What had begun as a very pleasurable morning with his boy was quickly turning into a shitstorm of epic proportions. He wasn’t sure why he had so many incompetent asswipes working for him, but he was quite sure that by the time he had concluded the afternoon conference with everyone— department heads, team leaders, and partners— there would be enough people fired that he would have either found the culprit of this latest debacle, or he would at least feel better.
Shaking out his arms, Reginald closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as the elevator doors opened in front of him. Stepping inside, Reginald wasn’t surprised to see Preston step in after him, coffee and bagels in one hand, briefcase in the other. His assistant was nothing if not efficient. It was one of the reasons Reginald had employed him.
It was also one of the reasons why he loved to accept and receive Preston’s tightly held control, order, and power. There was nothing more exciting to him. A tremor, scintillating and thrilling, like the beginning of an orgasm… his Domgasm always worked its way up Reginald’s spine when Preston called him “Sir.” There was something very humbling in that word. It was different than being called the word out in “Corporate America,” where it was tossed around with little meaning and, oftentimes, with no respect behind it. But in a scene, or in a D/s relationship?
Reginald shivered as he recalled his morning with Preston and shifted slightly in the elevator, trying to regain control. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Losing focus was quite unlike him. What was wrong with him? What had changed?
Glancing at Preston out of the corner of his eye, he took in the way Preston’s suit hung on his slender frame and felt himself grow even more aroused as he pictured what lay beneath. He saw the slight smile on Preston’s face, and Reginald dropped one hand to his side, holding one finger straight down with the rest curled under. To anyone watching the feed, it would seem as if Reginald was telling Preston about something on the floor or reprimanding him for some infraction, but Reginald and Preston had danced this particular teasing game before, and Reginald knew that Preston understood that when they got upstairs, Preston would be on his knees under Reginald’s desk, servicing Reginald’s cock until Reginald said stop.
And he didn’t plan to say stop for quite a while.
****
Reginald pressed his clenched fists onto the top of the conference table and glared at everyone present, looking each one of them in the eye.
“I want results, not excuses. I have no problem telling you that each and every last one of your jobs are on the line. There are only two people in this room who are in no danger of losing their employment: Preston, because he is my assistant and as such does not handle accounts, therefore he did not fuck up like any of you did. Although, he is so meticulous about making sure I have exactly what I need when I need it, I’m sure I could give him one of your accounts, and he would get it done correctly. And myself, because I own the goddamn company, and I’m certainly not going to fire me. I will tell you this, though: by the end of the day, at least two of you, if not more, are going to be packing up your pathetic excuses for an office and getting the hell out of here.
“Now, I want you to explain to me, in detail, why you should stay. Tell me about your account, how you’re going to fix it, and why I should keep you,” Reginald gritted out before sitting down in his chair and leaning back. He pointed to the team leader on his right. He would let them talk and plead their case, but it made no difference to him; he’d already made up his mind. He’d known who was staying and who was leaving before he’d set foot into the room.
Reaching under the table with his left hand, Reginald pressed a finger against the small remote button that controlled the plug inside of Preston. As he heard the small hitch of breath coming from behind and to the right of him, where Preston sat, Reginald wanted to smile, but he controlled himself, instead shifting in hi
s seat to make room for his thick erection. He kept a disinterested mask on his face as each team leader made their case for their job, while his finger played with the button under the table. Reginald knew Preston would be able to keep his focus no matter how often he pressed the button, which was why he was such an excellent submissive. Though Reginald knew what Preston’s breaking point was as well, which was what made him such a good Dom.
Thinking about the first time he and Preston had fallen into each other’s arms— literally— had Reginald holding back a nostalgic sigh. It had been a late night, and they had been stuck in the office going over files and accounts as they often did, when Preston had tripped over a box of files of past clients whom they were trying to win back. Reginald had jumped up to catch the smaller man before he could face-plant onto the floor, and when Preston had looked into his eyes, Reginald found himself unable to fight the attraction any longer. He’d been trying so hard for months, going to clubs and slaking his lust in any willing body, male or female, who offered themselves, and still it wasn’t enough.
But standing there, holding the object of his obsession, Reginald had done the only thing he could do— he’d lowered his head and taken Preston’s lips with his own. When Preston gasped, Reginald had pressed his tongue inside, knowing it was wrong, knowing he could be sued for sexual harassment, and not caring in the least. When Preston moaned and wrapped his arms around Reginald’s neck, Reginald had wanted to pump his arm in the air in victory. Instead, he’d growled and lifted Preston onto the desk.