Page 93 of Praise


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When he pulls out the small black remote I remember from last time, I smile. With one little click, the toy begins humming against my clit and G-spot, and I try to slam my legs together, but he won’t let me.

“Let’s see how long you can take it before you come.”

I want to protest, but I can’t. He’s Sir today, a little different than last time. The vibration is low, but it’s almost worse that way, building me slowly toward a climax. And the fact that I can’t react much makes it worse.

Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I clench my eyes closed and force myself to breathe. Then he begins stroking my thighs, running his hands up to my breasts, pinching each nipple between his fingers.

“You’re getting close, I can tell,” he says, and he’s right. My body writhes on his desk, and my breathing turns into stunted gasps. “Right…there.”

Suddenly, the vibration is gone. Just as I was about to crest the peak of my orgasm, he made it stop. I feel a bead of sweat across my forehead as I take in a long, heavy breath. When I look back at him, he’s grinning, pleased with himself.

“Was I right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

“You’re not being punished, but I’m going to do that to you all day. If you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded at the end of the day. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to a soft spot on the inside of my thighs. “I’m going to keep your panties in my desk. Try not to make a mess on your chair.”

Then he gently pats my ass and sends me to work. He spends the next couple of hours teasing me with steady vibrations, taking me to the edge and bringing me back down. I wish I could say I hated it, but so far, it’s not so bad. I like the buildup, anyway. And I love his attention most of all, which is what I’m getting today.

“It’s beautiful out,” he says, while I’m in the middle of an email to Maggie. “Let’s walk to the deli together.”Oh, Emerson, I think to myself.Of course you want to get me out in public with this thing inside me.

But do I argue? Nope. I simply smile, nod my head, and answer him accordingly, “Yes, Sir.”

* * *

“I’ll give you a foot rub tonight,” he says on the one-mile walk back, glancing down at my heels. These are a little more comfortable than the last ones, but I’m not going to turn down a foot rub. In the deli, he had me almost crying as he tortured me. It was packed in there, people milling around in all the open spaces as he flipped the toy on, making me cling to his arm for support, afraid I would crumble to the floor at any second.

He found so much humor in it, but I could also tell he was aroused too. So much so that he had to hold me in front of him the whole time to block people from seeing his hard length as we ordered our sandwiches. There I was ordering a turkey sub with Emerson Grant’s hard cock pressed into my back while a vibrator nearly made me orgasm in the middle of the wordmayonnaise.

If people didn’t notice how strange we were behaving, it was a miracle, or they were blind. But we didn’t care. We ate our lunch in a small booth in the back with smiles plastered on our faces. This could work, I thought to myself the whole time. I could be his secretary as a front, and his girlfriend in secret, and no one would need to know. It would be enough.

But as we reach his house, and I see a familiar figure standing on Emerson’s front porch, all of that idiotic hope comes crashing down around me.

“Beau?” Emerson calls out, spotting his son. When he spins around to answer his father’s call, I freeze. I don’t know if Emerson feels the same wave of guilt as I do, but seeing Beau now feels like a punch to the gut. And he looks…good. Better than last time. He’s cut his hair, has a smile on his face, and doesn’t look like he wants to murder his own father.

“Is everything okay?” Emerson asks, rushing over.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

There is a look of skeptical surprise on Emerson’s face, his attention laser-focused on his son, and I can’t believe the rising jealousy that courses through me when I notice.It’s his son, Charlie. Of course he’s going to give him his attention. Over you.

“I was working in the area. I saw Charlie’s car here, so I thought I’d come hang out for a bit.”

Come hang out? Glancing toward the road, I notice his white truck parked on the curb. How did I not notice that before? He must have used the money his dad gave him last time to get it fixed.

None of this feels right, but I don’t say anything as Emerson opens the door to let him in. He looks so elated to see his son again, I can’t be the one who takes that away. So I act casual as we walk inside together. Emerson empties his pockets at the front entryway table, dropping his keys into the bowl.

“Are you hungry?” he asks Beau.

Beau shakes his head before turning toward me.

“So where were you guys at?” he asks. My eyes dance between the two men for a moment, trying to get a second of Emerson’s attention, but he’s too guarded, too scared.

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