Restraining the Receptionist: ... the Receptionist, Book 2


For everyone whose bosses don’t properly appreciate them.

Chapter One

It was just another day at the offices of Cowell & Dirk. My two bosses and I were conducting a conference call. That is to say, Ethan Cowell and Simon Dirk were talking into the speaker phone at the head of the conference table, while I stretched out beneath them like an X-rated, all-you-can-eat Dana buffet. Technically, I was supposed to be taking notes. But my green-eyed lover, Simon, had relieved me of that duty by pressing play on a digital tape recorder.

Now he was pressing play on me. With his tongue.

My naughty boss had been feasting on my pussy for much of the afternoon, taking a break only when he had something to add to the business being discussed on the call. It had something to do with a new performance review system my bosses had recommended to a potential client. But the details were a little fuzzy. Probably because I’d been panting under Simon’s tongue for what seemed like forever.

I’d better rewind so you can see how I ended up on that conference table. Here’s how it all started. My job, as you may or may not know, was that of a typical entry-level receptionist. If by “entry” you’re referring to when a man, or men, if you’re lucky like me, penetrates your body. And if by “receptionist” you mean someone whose job is to receive—orders or pleasure, same difference.

That was me, Cowell & Dirk’s receptionist. I’d landed the job by sheer luck, along with a major case of the hots for Simon Dirk, who’d trained me in my duties. I’m proud to say I was a fast learner and adapted quickly to my new position. (Make that “positions”, since it would be a challenge to list them all.) Maybe I caught on so quickly because serving my two bosses brought me more pleasure than I’d ever imagined. Or maybe because with them, I forgot the crappy, dead-end life I’d led before I’d found Cowell & Dirk.

Of course I’d fallen hard for Simon, my black-haired, scar-faced, piratical sex god. But Simon’s loyalty to his mentor, Ethan Cowell, the top boss, meant that a nice, normal boy-girl relationship was not to be ours. Ethan, the senior partner, naturally demanded his share of the attentions of the firm’s receptionist. So we’d made a deal. Ethan could ask whatever he wanted of me, as long as Simon was present.

This worked in theory, but the day-to-day posed some problems. The more time I spent with Ethan, the more I found myself drawn to him. The man was an enigma. I never knew what he’d do next. And more and more, I couldn’t wait to find out.

That particular afternoon I’d started with a laptop, ready to take notes, and quickly found myself in Ethan’s lap. His eyes, a peculiar shade of blue that veered between ice and the hottest part of a flame, didn’t let me look away while he stripped my clothes off. Simon watched silently. Simon and I were both in awe of the power of Ethan.

When I was naked, Ethan had lashed me to the conference table with a long red ribbon that criss-crossed my body, leaving every interesting part exposed. Then he’d motioned for Simon to put his mouth to my pussy, while he sat at the head of the table, one leg crossed over the other, frowning intently at the phone and absent-mindedly playing with my nipples.

“It helps me focus,” he’d deigned to explain to me once.

Ethan, after all, was all about business. Yeah, right.

Have I put you in the picture now? There’s me, my black hair spilling off the conference table, legs spread wide, arms pinned to my side, a red ribbon turning me into a human candy cane. There are my nipples, so engorged they hurt, except it’s the kind of pain I love. The kind that turns me into a shivery mess, the kind that makes my bones melt and my mind float to my happy place.

There’s Simon’s black head busy at my sex. Oh, and don’t forget my hips, bucking helplessly against his mouth. His relentless nibbling was driving me insane. I wanted him deeper, I wanted something inside me. I moaned out loud, which earned me a scowl and a brusque tweak of my nipples from Ethan.

“Shhhh.” He put his finger to his lips in the universal symbol for “don’t come while you’re on a conference call”.

I wanted to tell him if he was so concerned about proper business protocol, perhaps he shouldn’t get me so turned on, but I was too busy biting my tongue at Simon’s newest trick. He had my clit pinched between a thumb and his tongue. Hard pressure on one side, fluttery little teasings on the other.

I closed my eyes and clenched my body to keep from coming. I couldn’t possibly control myself enough to make it a silent orgasm. The executives of the Woodfield Group would get an earful. But I couldn’t help letting out a sound somewhere between a groan and a “fuck me now”.

I cautiously opened one eye. Sure enough, Ethan’s ice blue eyes were bright with outrage. He put the phone on mute with a vicious poke of his finger.

“Must I gag you? Have you so little control then?” When he was pissed, his British accent got even more clipped, and his gravel-road voice even deeper.

“It’s not my fault,” I told him through gritted teeth. “Simon started it. He did that thing with his thumb. You know what that does to me.”

Ethan fixed me with that look of his, the one I like to call “Blue Fury” in honor of Zoolander’s “Blue Steel”. Except Ethan’s Blue Fury makes your knees turn to Crisco and forget their job in life is to hold you up. Fortunately, I was already flat on my back.

In all my months at Cowell & Dirk, my cheekiness had never left me. At first Ethan didn’t like it—maybe it wasn’t how they did things in his homeland of England. But what the hell did I know about international etiquette? I’m a Long Island girl all the way.

His icy look relaxed into the tiniest of smiles, more like a dent in his lips. “Simon? Dana makes a valid point. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Simon lifted his head from my pussy, which instantly got lonely and clutched at the empty air. I whimpered sadly and, I admit, loudly.

“That’s it,” growled Ethan. “Simon, stay where you are.” He whipped out a length of red ribbon. Around and around my head it went until my mouth was filled with it.

I moaned as loudly as I could, but the sound that came out could have been that of a squeaky chew-toy. My smart-aleck tongue has always been my most powerful tool, and Ethan knew very well what it did to me to have it silenced. I wriggled in protest, but he put a heavy hand on my chest, right between my breasts. The heat of it penetrated through me and filled me with a sense of drowsy limbo. Who knew what would happen next?

Whatever it was, I wasn’t in charge. He was.

“Trust me,” murmured Ethan. I looked at him with wild eyes. Might as well trust a Bengal tiger. Ethan was unpredictable, magnetic, a law unto himself. But still, what choice did I have?

“Ethan? Did we lose you?” The voice on the phone spoke up.

Ethan took the phone off mute. “I’m here. I’m afraid I had a small crisis to tend to. An unruly employee.”

I glared at him over the gag, my eyes doing the work my tongue couldn’t.

“Good help and all that, eh?” The man on the phone chuckled.

“Precisely. Which is why we believe so strongly in our performance review system.” Ethan ran his hand across my bound breasts, checking the tightness of the ribbon. He’d wound it so cleverly, in a way that plumped my breasts together and created a feeling of pressure deep inside me. He brushed the palm of his hand across my straining nipples. He plucked at them like an archer testing his bow.
Oh god
. I arched in response.

“Employees need structure,” Ethan continued, his rumble-strip voice weaving a web around my senses. “They need to know where they stand.”

Even though I wasn’t standing, my nipples were. They saluted like little soldiers obeying their commander. It occurred to me that I’d forgotten what Simon was up to since his tongue had left my clit. That tended to happen when Ethan took charge.

“You need to reward your workers when they deserve it.” His hand spanned my waist, fingers pointed toward the area that throbbed for his attention. “And punish them appropriately when it’s called for.” With a sharp move, he slapped the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Hot tingles shot from the imprint of his hand straight to my groin. Yet my body twisted for more.

“Are you offering a demonstration?” The Woodfield guy sounded either amused or confused, I wasn’t sure which.

“Merely emphasizing the point,” said Ethan, caressing the reddened skin of my thigh. “Of course, it’s important to get to the bottom of the problem before you assign blame.” He pinned Blue Fury on the man waiting somewhere at my feet, the man I’d almost forgotten about. “The best employees will come forward with their mistakes and offer restitution.”

“Take it like a man, eh?”

“That’s right. Just like a man.” The air between Ethan and Simon hummed with some kind of strange energy. I lifted my head. Green eyes and blue battled like light sabers. Electricity seemed to arc between them. Everything in the room got quiet and still while my two bosses fought their silent struggle. Clearly their battle involved me, though I wasn’t exactly sure how I fit into it.

Then, to my utter astonishment, Simon bowed his head and put his hands to his belt buckle, an elegant platinum clasp on a dark leather belt. He undid the buckle and pushed his pants down to his knees. He wore white-and-blue-striped boxers underneath. These went down to his knees too.

Hello, hard-on.

I sighed happily. I was about to get my wish. Simon was about to spear me senseless. No greater joy existed in my hard-knock life than to get impaled on his lovely cock.

But Ethan had something else in mind. “Another important point is to make sure the punishment fits the crime.” He motioned for Simon to put his mouth on my pussy again. Behind the gag, I moaned in frustration. I didn’t want any more teasing and tormenting. I needed satisfaction. But my needs were not first on Ethan’s mind, apparently.

Simon bent over to place his tongue in my pussy, a position that left his bare backside exposed. Ethan strolled behind him. What was he going to do? My heart pounded like a marching band on speed. I’d seen Simon get down on his knees and suck Ethan’s cock before. Hell, we’d done it together, side-by-side, our tongues slithering over that enormous pole, and sometimes even running into each other. But I’d never seen this before. I’d never seen Ethan settle himself between Simon’s widened thighs and push his shirt up his back. I’d never seen Simon’s eyes go hazy-green with dread—or was it excitement?

Ethan put a hand on the small of Simon’s back, kicked his legs apart and molded the globes of his ass. The movements of Simon’s tongue on my clit sped to a frantic pace that made me scream silently behind my gag.

“A proper punishment is a relief for the employee,” said Ethan in a tar-black voice only someone intimately acquainted with him would have known was rougher than normal. “It clears the decks, makes everything right again. A good employee will welcome the correction.”

My breath strangled in my throat as Ethan took a shank of Simon’s hair in his fist and pulled him away from my sex. With the other hand he dipped into my pussy and wetted his fingers with my juices. Then he shoved Simon’s head back down to my sex. Like a puppet master, he raised Simon’s right hand to my entrance. He inserted Simon’s fingers inside me, one, two, three, until my inner muscles pulsed and clung to the intruders. Finally, what I craved, hard flesh entering my body.

“Oh, fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, or at least that’s how it felt. A muted “uh” was all anyone else heard.

I arched back, ready to lose myself in sensation, but I didn’t want to miss what Ethan was doing to Simon. So I lifted my head again. Ethan unzipped his suit pants and pulled his aroused member through the opening. He slathered his damp hand around the rim of Simon’s rear hole. Those were my juices.

Anything to help the cause.

Ethan put one hand—how well I knew that heavy touch—on the small of Simon’s back, so his ass tilted up. Then he took his cock in his other hand and slowly, deliberately, breached Simon’s ass. A strangled groan came from the general direction of my pussy.

“The employee won’t complain when he knows the punishment is justified,” said Ethan reprovingly, with a sharp twist of Simon’s ass cheek. Simon buried his head in my crotch, perhaps to silence his reactions. A hum vibrated my clit and the lips of my pussy. It was all I could do to stay still the way Ethan wanted me to. Simon’s hair brushed my thighs as he rocked against me. How could he help it, with Ethan’s relentless rod pushing further up his ass, one engorged inch at a time? Each push meant a head-butt against my pussy, and a growl against my clit.

I was on a knife-edge of ecstasy and terror. What if Simon lost it? I couldn’t escape, couldn’t protest. My legs were immobilized, and so were my hands. Bound and gagged, I was completely at Simon’s mercy, as Simon was completely at Ethan’s. I raised my eyes and met Ethan’s hot, intent gaze. I tried to communicate my fear to him by rolling my eyeballs around. His answer—a smug smile and a slow wink.

For some reason, it worked, and I surrendered to the pleasure of Simon’s burrowing tongue and his fingers working their way into me. I watched Ethan’s mighty cock dig into Simon’s helpless ass, and that erotic sight burned into my brain. Even when I closed my eyes, I saw it still. The fierce lust on Ethan’s face, the heavy flush that crept from his strong throat to his hairline.

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