I, Sara Kramer, was very good at my job. A mere 22 years-old, I had just graduated from college four months ago as a Pre-Law Major. I had become a temp with an agency here in town as I took some time off from school, and had been assigned to Sutter Law. Four months ago, I started working as an office manager with dreams of becoming a lawyer one day. Now... now, all I dreamed of was Steve Sutter.
Steve was my boss, and while still young, only 35, had become successful enough, and wealthy enough, to break out and start his own law firm. He snapped me up from the agency right away, hiring me full-time within the first month of me working with him. The office was small, but incredibly luxurious, as Steve catered to a more upper class clientele. And it was just the two of us working together, which was perfect. Which allowed for more... personal time between the two of us.
I found out rather quickly that Steve was dedicated to his career, working long hours every day. I didn't mind; this was all useful, working experience for me. I also found out almost immediately that Steve wanted me -- and Steve got what he wanted.
He was tall, 6'2'' to my 5'2'', with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was fiercely handsome, with a lithe body. He was used to giving orders, and was used to being obeyed. I did, eagerly.
I rose from my desk and walked the short distance to Steve's office. The door was open and Steve was on the phone. As he lifted a finger to tell me to wait, I leaned against the door, trying not to squirm.
Remember how I mentioned that Steve was used to giving orders? Well, this didn't just go for the bedroom and the boardroom; Steve had infiltrated every aspect of my life. From my living arrangements (I had given up my studio apartment and moved into his condo a month ago) to my clothing, Steve took charge and I let him. I don't know how to explain it; it was freeing to give up control and I found comfort in being so tenderly cared for.
Every morning, Steve would wake and make breakfast. While he could have restricted my diet, he didn't; he enjoyed watching me eat the food he prepared and I loved whatever he made. He was more a chef than a cook, and since I never bothered to learn more than the basics in the kitchen, it was a joy to give that up to him.
After breakfast, we would dress. Or, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that Steve dressed me. It was a fantastic and sensual ritual we both enjoyed. The clothes he bought were always soft, silky, and often times, sheer or extremely thin. Though I considered my body more average than anything else, he liked to see the curves of it, liked to see the fabric clinging or skimming over my skin. Today, he had chosen linen; the pale pink skirt wrapped my body, exposing a good deal of my right thigh. The matching button down blouse was tucked into the skirt, and through the material, a pale pink push-up lace bra could be seen. A matching pair of bikini panties was under the skirt and the source of my squirming was located there.
As he slipped the clothes on my body, his wide hands would skim over the exposed flesh. Fingertips brushing my nipples, the back of his hands roaming over my stomach. Quick, light touches that set me on fire. Enough to light a fire low in my belly, but never enough to satisfy the heat he caused. Sometimes, Steve would tease me even more, loving to see me shift and whimper throughout the day. After pressing a kiss to my mound, and before sliding those lacy panties up my thighs and onto my hips, he would take a vibrator, one of many we enjoyed, turn it on high, and slip it into my wet pussy. He did that this morning, choosing a thick powerful vibrator for me, and I was slowly, torturously, sweetly going mad with the vibrations. Steve had placed it so it hit my g-spot with the tip, and every time I sat down, the vibrator, which had slipped out a little when I stood up thanks to my juices, was pushed deep back into my pussy.
Ever try to have a decent phone conversation with a vibrator going full-blast in you? I have, and it's maddening and deliciously naughty, knowing what's the real cause of my breathy voice, feeling the moisture drip out, dampening my folds and the crotch of my panties. And, of course, Steve had given me many phone calls to return this morning. He did it on purpose.
Steve ended his phone call and I snapped back to the present as he crooked that finger at me, a wicked smile on his lips.
"And how are you doing, darling? Need a bathroom break?" He smirked at me as I stepped up beside his desk, leaning against it rather than sitting on it. I was trying to be nonchalant with my actions, since I felt like I was about to explode, but Steve was quicker. "Oh, no, no. That won't do. You need to sit and rest those feet. I know the shoes are still new, so they must be hurting you."
