That night I returned home, and Jennifer was waiting for me. She was already in my bed, wearing only her panties. I was not expecting her, as she was a free spirited girl who came and went as she pleased, and now she was pleased to be in my bed. It was a pleasant surprise.
“Oh, I see you are back. How was the West coast?”
“It was wonderful!” She lay back on the bed, looking up at me. The way her breasts rested on her chest, soft and full with small, lightly pink nipples, her long blonde hair flowing around the pillow, her blue panties accentuating her stomach and hips, was a lovely sight. She seemed like an anachronism from the late 60’s. A California surfer chick, or a groupie from Woodstock. In the high intensity world of my business, her carefree attitude was refreshing.
“That’s good.” Seeing her in the bed was a bit too much, and I could feel my passions stirring. And once my passions start to stir, something needs to be done about that. I had enjoyed Gael in the morning, and now at night there was Jennifer. My degeneracy knew no bounds. I began to undress.
“Yes, I had sooo much fun!”
Even though she was a Harvard graduate, and came from a wealthy family, she had this aura of an airhead about her, but that was fine. I enjoyed someone like that. The fact that I was bankrolling her life did not bother me. I had more money than I could ever use. Her family also spoiled her, gave her whatever she wanted, and this contributed to her utterly carefree attitude.
“And were you a good girl or a bad girl?” I removed my tie, and undid my cuffs. She got up out of the bed and came towards me, twirling her hair with a finger.
“I think I was a bad girl?”
“Oh really.” I removed my shirt. “You think? Or you were?”
“Yes, yes sir, I was a very bad girl.” She put her arms around me and kissed me.
“Well then,” I pushed her back onto the bed. She giggled. “We are going to have to do something about that.”
“Oh, please don’t spank me too hard, sir.” I walked over to the bed and stood before her, and she began to unbuckle my pants. “Please sir, you know how bad I can be. You know I am a little nymphomaniac with no self control. I crave cock.” When my member popped out she wrapped her hands around its girth and kissed the head. “And I crave this cock especially!”
“I won’t punish you, but only if you tell me all you did, and tell me everything in detail.”
And she did tell me, and she told me everything in detail while we fucked, and this only increased the intensity of her own orgasms. I enjoyed hearing her stories. It was one of our kinks, and we had many.
Afterwards we were lying in bed, and she asked: “So, before I left, you mentioned this new girl, Gael. You said you were going to break her. Have you yet?”
“Progress is being made. But there is an important step that still needs to be taken. And you know what that is going to be.”
Jennifer sat up in the bed and clapped her hands. “Oh goodie!! I can’t wait!”
Gael and I continued on our path for some time. Day after day, and week after way, and month after month, we had developed a nice routine. The mornings always started with a nice, wet kiss. She liked this. Often she would bring me something she made the night before, a nice pastry, some bread, or even something more elaborate. She also enjoyed bringing me lunch, and sometimes we would have a late business meeting with a catered meal. It was one of our delights that at the end of the day, after the office was empty, and we were alone, we would fuck. We particularly enjoyed doing it on my desk, with either her bent over, or on her back, her legs over my shoulders.
She always made sure she wore her pearl pendant, and new bracelet, and her submission to my will was easy and without contention. I enjoyed telling her what kind of clothes to wear, and she enjoyed picking out the dresses, tight, form fitting dresses, and asking for my approval. Even though her salary was now more than sufficient to provide for such dresses, even the most elaborate and expensive possible, I bought them for her. Every girl, no matter how much money she may have, enjoys it when a man buys her something. This was my way of rewarding her, and letting her know that what we had was important. In response, Gael revealed a pampering, nurturing side to her, a side she keep hidden and reserved only for a man who had touched her, and I enjoyed being pampered by a beautiful woman in that way. We had a good thing.
Still, we had much actual business to conduct, so our relationship was not purely carnal, sexual and forbidden, but of course that was an essential part of our relationship. This was not to be an affair of unbridled passion; rather, it was to be an affair of controlled submission and domination. And this takes time. Gael was advancing in both her professional and sexual life; but I knew this could change, at least the sexual and emotional part, and such matters were always subject to unpredictable circumstances.
A few months after she had signed the contract and had become my personal assistant, there was an important document that needed to be discussed, so one morning I called Gael into the office. I had been out of town for a week, so we had not seen each other in a while. She was dressed, not in her normally somewhat sexy form fitting dress, a dress that only highlighted her lovely, hourglass body, but rather in a pair of grey pants and brown, baggy sweater. It was quite the frumpy look. I looked at her coldly when she came in.
“Are you not feeling well today?”
She was quiet, and seemed distracted.
“Gael, I asked you a question.”
“Last night my husband, well, he asked me about my increased salary.”
“And?”
“Well, at first when I told him a few months ago, he seemed pleased. Then, recently in the past few weeks, when the reality of how much I was making, when my first paycheck was deposited and then the second, he became a bit more….well I am really not sure how to describe it. He just seemed a bit upset.”
“I see. Well, I hope this does not affect your job. What you do here is important.”
“Yes, but this seems to bother him. I tried to have sex with him, to try to make him forget, but he had a hard time….”
“A hard time what?”
“A hard time performing…”
I laughed. “Oh you mean he had a hard time getting it up? Perhaps he needs some sort of ED medicine.”
She shot me that look of irritation I knew so well. “No, this is not funny. We are talking about my fucking marriage here.”
The old bitchiness was emerging once again, the defiance, the attitude. This was to be expected, as Gael was naturally a bitch. Her submission was real, but not complete. More work needed to be done.
“And what is more important?” I swiveled around in my plush, green chair and looked out the window. “Your marriage, or your job here?”
“What sort of dumb question is that. Do you not even understand what marriage is? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I swiveled back to look at her. “So, your husband is worried about your job?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Classic Gael. “And he has been asking about you. He is wondering who this boss is who would give me this sort of salary.”
“Mmmm…mmmmm…” I just stared at her as I picked up a white, letter size envelope lying on my desk. There were a few there, important items that needed to be read.
“He thinks…” She trailed off, clearly trying to avoid saying too much.
“He thinks what?”
She took a deep breath. “He thinks there must be something shady about all this money. He wonders how you could possibly make so much, and give me such a big salary, and that there must be something…”
“Something what?” I was concentrating on the envelope, turning it around in my hand, reading the return address.
“Something criminal, illegal in what you do, something that I do not know about.”
“Now Gael,” I chuckled while sliding a shiny and sharp steel letter opener along the top of the envelope, “do you really think there is something illegal, something criminal, going on here? You do know about this little organization known as the IRS, don’t you? They are usually pretty good about discovering things like that when it comes to money.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I looked up at her and raised my eyebrows.
Gael straightened her body, put her arms by her sides, and spoke clearly. “No, I know that, but I also think he is upset because our anniversary is coming up, and after three years of marriage I am now doing so much better than him. This has to bother him.”
“When is the anniversary?”
“In two days.”
“In two days, really? Do you have big plans?”
“Yes, yes we do. We have planned a trip to Cancun. Three years is an important date in a marriage.”
“I see.” I tossed the envelop aside and began casually reading the enclosed letter, a note about some art work that needed to be sold in Florence. I put the paper down and looked up at her. “Well, that is unfortunate because you and I will be taking a business trip. Tell your husband you will be away and that you will need to go to Cancun another time.”
“What? A business trip? What the hell is that all about?” She stomped the floor with her left foot. The sound echoed through my office. “Did you not hear what I said? We have already made plans for Cancun? Tickets bought. Room reserved. Do you not understand that?”
“Yes, Gael, I heard you perfectly well. Now, you know how this works. You are now my personal assistant. You are bound, in the contract you signed, to be present, at short notice, when I need you to be present. You should have let your husband know about this, and that anything, whether it be an anniversary, a birthday, a death in the family, or even if your fucking house burns down and your husband is burned to a crisp, that you are required to be ready for business. And if you are not present, well, there will be consequences, and you know what those consequences will be. I don’t need to spell this out for you.” I laughed, “Besides, you make so much money now you can take a trip anywhere you want. You can buy property in Cancun if you want. I’m sure your husband would just love that.”
Gael let out a deep sigh, rolled her eyes, and looked out the window. “You are such a fucking asshole. And where is this business trip?”
“Florence, Italy. Have you ever been to Florence before?”
“No. How long are we going to be gone?”
“At least a week. Maybe longer. It all depends on my clients in Italy.”
Gael stood there, staring at me, and I could see she was trying to say something, but did not know quite what to say, as she was clearly weighing in her mind where her true loyalties lay, with her marriage, or with her new job, and therefore me. I picked up another piece of mail, again placing the letter opener on the edge of the envelope, and waited for her response, a response that would be the most consequential of her life.
“Alright, ok…fine…” Her eyes watered up and her voice became shaky. Her emotions were now beyond her control. “I will go with you.”
“Good.” I got up from my desk and walked over to her. I knew a moment of gentleness was needed here more than a moment of harshness, although I always kept harshness in reserve in case it was needed. In fact, as I thought about it, yes, she would need to be punished for her present attitude. But first, some tenderness.
I took her by the hand. “I know this is difficult for you Gael, and I don’t want you to worry about anything, because it is all going to be alright.” She shuddered, and a few tears began trickling down her face, and when I kissed her, she burst out in a convulsive cry of agonized and conflicted emotions.
“Yes, I know…its just…oh god…I do love my husband…I had planned and wanted my future with him, I still want that, but now there is all this, and I just don’t know…it’s all so confusing…”
I kissed her again, softly and gently, and took her in my arms as she cried, pulling her closely to me, her body right against mine, and as she cried in my arms, her effect on me was a bit surprising: I had become quite aroused. Initially, after my gentle approach, I thought I was going to punish her for her attitude, but this display of softness on her part drew me towards her in a way that I was not anticipating. Our kisses became less soft and gentle and more passionate, deeper and loving, as our mouths melted into each other, and the warmth and sensuous delicacy of her tongue only inflamed my passions that much more.
As usual when dealing with Gael, the door of my office was closed, and while we kissed I led her to my desk and sat her on top, and pulled down her grey frumpy pants, and slid off her blue panties, and as I did she reached down and undid my pants and took my erect penis in her hands, gripping it firmly, stroking it and running her fingers all over the head, and then, as she slowly began guiding me inside of her, she bit my ear and then my lower lip and then kissed me with her full, lovely mouth, and while we kissed and as she guided my cock deep inside her, she moaned and said, “Please fuck me, sir, please, I need you right now….” and as I filled her she lifted her legs and wrapped them around my waist, and grabbed me by my back and shoulders and dug her fingers into me, her fingernails scratching the back of my neck, while kissing me with a violent passion, and, wanting to be as deep as possible inside her, I lifted her legs and put them over my shoulders and pressed myself into her, now totally and deeply inside her, and she screamed and cried and moaned and grabbed me and pulled me into her with a feral, vigorous force, pushing herself against my hips, kissing my face and cheeks and whispering into my ears, “Oh sir…please…I think…o god…I feel…no…no…I can’t say that right now…please….make love to me…” and when she said that I felt a deeper emotion for her than I had realized I had even possessed, and when I felt my own emotions flow out of me I came, instantly and intensely, inside her and when I did she moaned “Oh yes…yes….that is what I want…all of you…sir….”. I filled her with all my heated passion, and kissed her, and our kisses returned to softness and gentleness and touching, tender passion. As she caressed my broad back with the tips of her fingers, and then the palms of her hands, she whispered in my ear, “Oh god, sir, what are you doing to me….”
We dressed and Gael put her arms around me. “So, we will be gone for a week?”
“Yes, at least a week.”
“I look forward to this. I have never been to Italy.”
I straightened my tie out. “Yeah, I think you will enjoy this trip. You are going to learn a lot about the business.”
“I hear it is a beautiful country.”
“It is. And your husband?”
“I will handle it. Don’t worry.”
“Good. And one more thing, Gael. I want you to dye your hair blonde before we go. Italians love blonde haired women.”
Gael smiled and ran her hand through her hair. “OK!”
She left and I sat on my chair. My office was large, filled with sunlight and silence. Once again, I turned my chair and stared out the window. I did enjoy these occasional moments of almost monastic peace and quiet on what were normally busy and hectic days. So I just sat there and thought. What was happening to me? Gael, this woman who was to be broken, and whom I was breaking, was now having an effect on me that I did not want her to have. These types of feelings stirring within me, feelings of care and even love, were not part of the bargain. And yet this Gael, in her confusing mix of bitchiness, abrasive defiance, entitled attitude, along with kindness, pampering and nurturing care, and her raw emotions and deep sensuality and sexual passion, her beauty and intelligence, had somehow managed to work her way to a part of me that I never let anyone get close to.
And for me this was going to be a problem.
After Gael left, I received a written message from one of my secretaries. She informed me that there was a list of young, college age interns who wanted to spend the upcoming summer working for my company. As a part of my business I enjoyed cultivating, this was an extremely competitive position, and the finalists, ambitious students passing from their third to fourth and final years in college, and from every part of the country, would need to be interviewed by me personally in about a month. They usually went through an extensive interview process before reaching me, lasting several months, so the few who made it to my desk were usually exceptionally qualified. My secretary told me that there were three finalists, one of whom would be chosen. I looked at the names: there was a James, a Robert, and one promising young woman. Her name was Sophia.