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“Dammit!” Mr. Peak yells.
My boss grabs me and throws me down on the sofa. He pulls my legs over one of the sofa’s armrests so my as**s is propped up in the air. He pulls down my thong and pulls my dress up. Then Mr. Peak starts to spank my as**s with his belt.
“You don’t f**k around with me! Do you understand that?!” Mr. Peak yells. Every slap is a punishment and a reward. It is a punishment because I have displeased my boss. It is a reward because he cares enough to hurt me in a way that brings sexual pleasure to him.
I feel the hard leather slap against my as**s cheeks. Yes, it hurts but I love the attention I am getting from Mr. Peak. I grab the other sofa armrest and begin to bite down on the leather in the sofa.
When Mr. Peak is done. He turns me over and rips apart my dress. I watch my boss’s eyes gaze over my nak**ed body. “Dammit. You look so tasty,” Mr. Peak growls as he removes his clothing.
Damn, I never get sick of seeing my boss’s strong arms and chest. He removes his pants, revealing his powerful thighs. The bulge in his underwear is nice and thick. This man is ready to f**king destroy me.
Mr. Peak pulls down my thong. He runs his tongue up to my bre**asts as he rubs his right hand between my legs. I claw at his back and run my fingers through my boss’s hair. We fall off of the sofa. And for the first time, I am on top!
I sit up and straddle my boss’s hi**ps. I can feel him grinding his hard co**ck against me. He takes my fingernails and slowly slides them across his chest. Mr. Peak doesn’t allow me complete control for long. He reaches up and slowly chokes me. His grip is strong and sure. I nearly black out.
My boss turns the tables and gets on top of me. He pulls down his underwear and slowly pushes himself inside of my young body. He feels nice and big. My face is blushing. I can feel the heat exploding all over my body.
Mr. Peak begins to f**k me nice and hard. My back rubs against the hardwood floor. My boss pulls on my hair. He kisses my neck. Then he gets right down to the business of f**king my young body.
As my boss puts his full concentration and effort into getting himself off, I get a nice view of his huge chest. I could stare at it all day. I run my hands up to his massive and broad shoulders. Then I hold his face in my hands. Then something strange happens. He looks me in my eyes.
Oh my God. He has never done that before. For the first time, we are f**king on a more personal level. I move in to kiss him. He pushes my face down and continues to f**k me. Oh well, I’ll take a few seconds of eye contact over nothing at all.
My boss turns me over and forces me to get on my hands and knees. Mr. Peak enters me from behind. He pulls on my hair and spanks my as**s. Dammit. He is really drilling the hell out of me!
We moan. We scream. We both cum at the same time. Our bodies collapse on top of each other as the cool air from the broken window brushes across our bodies. We can hear the police sirens below. This morning has been a hell of a ride.
***
Mr. Peak’s New York office is not an office. It’s a freaking luxury apartment. After we had sex, he picked me up and walked me to this door. He kicked open the door and there in front of me is an eight hundred square foot bathroom suite complete with a jacuzzi tub.
My boss turns on the water and hugs me from behind as he looks out of the windows. We watch as the police try to control the melee forty-two floors below. Apparently, when you toss over fifty million dollars of gold, silver and cash out of a window, New Yorkers tend to over-react.
We watch as people kick, punch and fight each other while police use mace, batons and illegal choke holds to stop the chaos. Mr. Peak looks at the action for a minute and then he says, “That, right there, is the story of our modern world.”
The water from the jacuzzi fills up and we get inside. Mr. Peak grabs his iPhone and makes a call while he looks at me. “Jonas. There is a short black dress along with a pair of black high heel shoes, which belongs to Miss Sulamari. Have it brought up to my office immediately,” Mr. Peak orders.
My boss tosses away the phone and turns on the 60 inch TV in the bathroom. He switches over to CNN. I lean over and hug him as we watch the latest updates from Odostan. The once crisp white Presidential Palace at Kuva is a pockmarked mess spewing black smoke. An alert blazes across the screen: CONFIRMED: PRESIDENT MOLIDAK KILLED.
Mr. Peak smiles and puts the remote down. We watch as the citizens of Odostan dance in the streets. Three tanks pull down the statue to the late dictator. People take turns kicking the large marble head of the dead dictator.
“Odostan exports over 200 billion dollars of oil per year which is now in the control of General Zhukov and myself,” Mr. Peak brags as he strokes my hair. I look up at my boss and he educates his faithful student on the art of managing the spoils of war.
