PAY ME IN ORGASMS 💦🥵

Elaine Carter's strongest memory was of the first time she had seen the ocean. It was during a summer vacation she had taken with her ex-husband, years ago. The horizon had stretched infinitely, a canvas of unbroken blue, kissing the sky. She remembered the sound of the waves—the rhythmic crescendo that seemed to whisper secrets to the shore. It was a stark contrast to the steel and glass jungle of downtown Chicago where she now made her living, but it was a memory that filled her with a serene power she often drew upon.

Now, at 42, she sat behind the gleaming desk of Jonathan Blackwell, CEO of the most powerful real estate development firm in the city. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, a silent ballet of efficiency and skill. She had learned the art of subtlety and control, a skill that served her well in both her professional and personal life. As she typed, she felt the weight of his gaze on her—his eyes lingering on the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts beneath the tailored blouse.

Mr. Blackwell, a man who ruled his empire with an iron fist, had a secret craving for her that no boardroom deal could ever satisfy. The whispers of their clandestine arrangement fluttered through the office halls, a scandalous symphony of power and desire. His commands were rarely spoken aloud, but she felt them in the air—a silent symphony of need that she knew all too well how to conduct.

He called her into his office after hours, the tension thick as the leather of his chair. "Elaine," he began, his voice a velvet growl that sent shivers down her spine. She knew what he wanted—what he always wanted. "Take off your glasses." The way he said it was a command, but his tone held a hint of plea, a desperation that was as thrilling as it was humiliating. She complied, her heart racing as she felt the heat of his gaze on her, stripping her down to the lacy lingerie she had so carefully chosen that morning.

Without a word, she walked around the desk, her hips swaying with a practiced allure. He stood up, his suit jacket hanging open to reveal the broad expanse of his chest, and she couldn't help but lick her lips at the thought of what lay beneath. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him with a force that left her breathless. "You know what I fucking want," he murmured into her ear, his breath hot and demanding. She nodded, her pulse pounding in her throat.

He pushed her down onto her knees, his zipper already open, his cock springing free. "Look at me when you do it," he ordered, and she did, her eyes locking onto his as she took him into her mouth. He swore under his breath, his hand fisting in her hair as she began to suck with a hunger that surprised even her. His grip tightened, guiding her movements, and she felt a thrill of submission that made her wet. This was her domain—this was where she ruled him, even if it was on his terms.

Mr. Blackwell's curses grew louder, his hips jerking as she worked her mouth over his shaft. She felt the power in every groan, every twitch of his muscles. It was a dance they had performed countless times—a dance of dominance and submission that fueled the fires of their secret rendezvous. "You fucking tease," he growled, and she knew he was close. The thought of him coming undone at her command was intoxicating.

The taste of him was a blend of musk and desire that she had come to crave. She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing with each eager suck, her eyes never leaving his. His grip tightened, pulling her hair harder, and she knew he was losing control. The filthy words that spilled from his lips were a symphony of lust, a testament to her power. She could make him say anything, do anything, and it was a thrill that sent bolts of arousal through her body.

Elaine felt the wetness spread between her thighs, her own need building as she worked his cock. She loved the way he talked to her—the way he lost his corporate cool when it was just the two of them. The way he called her dirty names that made her feel like a million dollars. His fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as if she wasn't the one in charge, but she knew better. It was all part of the game they played, the dance of power and pleasure that only they understood.

He swore again, his breathing ragged, his cock swelling in her mouth. "Take it all," he panted, and she did, eager to feel him come apart. The salty taste of him filled her mouth as he climaxed, his body trembling with the force of his release. She swallowed every drop, savoring the moment of victory, the knowledge that she had brought him to his knees. It was a heady feeling, one that she never grew tired of.

As she pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she felt his gaze on her—hot and possessive. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and dominance. "No one else can make me feel like this." She knew it was a lie—his ex-wife had probably heard those same words—but she didn't care. In that moment, she was the one who held the power, the one who could make him beg for more.

"Bullshit," she said with a smirk, her eyes flashing with challenge. "I'm sure you say that to all your little playthings." His grip on her hair tightened, his expression darkening. "Don't push your luck, sweetheart." But she could see the desire in his eyes, the need for her to push just a little further, to remind him that she wasn't just some mindless fucktoy for his amusement.

"Is that all you've got, Mr. Big Shot?" she taunted, her voice low and sultry. She knew the words would get under his skin—she'd seen it happen before. The power play was as much a part of their arrangement as the sex itself. She felt his hand move down to cup her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You want me to prove it?"

He sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You're a greedy little whore, aren't you?" His words were as rough as sandpaper, but she felt a thrill at the way he said it. It was a role they played, a script they had written together, and she knew her lines by heart. "You want me to show you just how much I own you?"

"Yes," she whispered, the word slipping from her lips like a secret. "I want to feel it."

He leaned in, his face a mask of pure, unfiltered lust. "You want me to fuck that greedy cunt of yours?" The words were a knife, cutting through the tension and sending a shiver of pure desire down her spine. "You want me to show you who's in charge?"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea. "I want it all."

Without another word, Mr. Blackwell yanked her to her feet, spinning her around so that she faced the desk. He bent her over the cold, unforgiving surface, her skirt hiked up around her waist. He slapped her ass—once, twice, three times—each strike a symphony of pain and pleasure that made her gasp. The sound echoed through the empty office, a declaration of his ownership.

He didn't bother with foreplay—there was no need. They both knew what they wanted. He shoved into her, his thick cock filling her in one brutal stroke. She cried out, her nails digging into the leather as he claimed her with an animalistic ferocity that made her wetter. His hips slammed into her, a relentless rhythm that made her breasts jiggle and her eyes water. He was a storm, a force of nature that she could never hope to control.

Elaine's own need grew with every thrust, her body begging for more. She pushed back against him, meeting his brutal rhythm with her own, desperate to feel him deeper. She could feel the wetness seeping through her panties, pooling on the leather, and she knew he could feel it too. It was a silent admission of her desire—a declaration of her wantonness.

"You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice a mix of triumph and contempt. "You like it when I treat you like a fucking whore?"

"Yes," she moaned, the word torn from her throat as he hammered into her. The filthy conversation was part of the thrill—his words painting a vivid picture of her submission, her own need egging him on.

"Tell me," he demanded, his breath hot on the back of her neck. "Tell me what a slut you are for me."

Elaine bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt his fingers dig into her hips. "I'm a slut for you," she whispered, the words a sweet surrender to his dominance. "Your dirty little whore."

With a grin, Mr. Blackwell reached into his pocket, pulling out a pen—his signature silver Cross—and flicked it open. He traced the cool, metal tip along the cleft of her ass, watching her shiver with anticipation. She felt his gaze on her, his eyes lingering on her most intimate part, and she knew what he was thinking. He liked to push boundaries, to test her limits. It was part of their dance—his way of reminding her who was in charge.

He leaned in, his breath hot on her skin as he whispered, "You're going to take this, aren't you?" She felt the pen press against her anus, the smooth metal a stark contrast to his rough, demanding hands. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. She knew the thrill of letting him invade her in such a way—his control over her body, her submission to his desires. Slowly, she pushed back, taking the tip of the pen inside her.

The sensation was strange, a mix of discomfort and a dark excitement that she had grown to crave. He watched her intently, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed the pen deeper. The pressure built, stretching her tight hole, sending waves of arousal through her body. She could feel her pussy clench around nothing, desperate for the fullness of his cock.

"Fuck," she gasped, her voice a strangled moan. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Such a good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. He pushed the pen deeper, the intrusion making her whine. "But you're not just taking my words, are you?"

Elaine bit her lip harder, her eyes watering. "No, Mr. Blackwell," she panted, "I'm taking all of you."

He chuckled, the sound sending a fresh wave of desire through her. "That's what I like to hear," he murmured, his hand moving to the base of the pen, still buried deep in her ass. "Now tell me, how does it feel?"

"It feels...so wrong," she whimpered, her voice thick with lust. "But so right."

He laughed again, the sound sending another shiver through her. "Wrong is good, baby," he said, his voice a low growl. "Wrong is what we do best." He began to fuck her harder, his cock pounding into her pussy as he worked the pen in and out of her ass. The sensation was overwhelming—the feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly claimed.

"You're such a good slut," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "My little office whore." She could feel the tension in his voice, his need for her climbing higher with every filthy word. "You love this, don't you?"

"Yes," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love it." The words were a confession, a declaration of her need for his dominance. His hand was a vice on her hip, his cock driving into her like a piston. "I love being your whore."

He groaned in approval, his strokes becoming more erratic. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice a dark promise. "Say it like you mean it."

"I love being your whore," Elaine moaned, her body on fire. She felt the pressure building, her orgasm just out of reach. "I love it when you fill me up—when you make me take it all."

"That's it," Mr. Blackwell hissed, his voice tight with his own need. "You're such a fucking slut for me." He pulled the pen out of her ass with a wet pop, the sudden emptiness making her gasp. He slapped her ass with the flat of his hand, the sound echoing in the quiet office. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a command. "Beg for my cock in your ass."

"Please," she moaned, the word a desperate plea. "I need it. I need your cock in my ass." It was a heady feeling, begging for such a depraved act, but she knew he loved it. And she loved the way it made her feel—so dirty, so used, so utterly owned.

Mr. Blackwell smirked, his eyes gleaming with lust as he leaned in closer. "Say it like you mean it," he rasped, his hand sliding down to tease her swollen clit. She gasped as he rubbed circles around it, the pressure building with each stroke. "Say it like you're begging for it."

"Please," she whined, her voice a desperate whisper. "Please, Mr. Blackwell, I need your cock in my ass." The words sent a thrill through her body, the sound of her own voice saying something so obscene making her pussy clench around his shaft.

"That's better," he said with a smug grin. "But I think you can do better than that." He twisted her clit between his thumb and forefinger, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain through her. "Beg for it like the whore you are."

Elaine felt the words bubble up from her chest, the need to please him overwhelming. "Please, Mr. Blackwell," she whined, her voice a desperate plea. "I'll do anything for you. I need your big, hard cock in my ass." She pushed back against him, her movements frantic. "Fuck me there. Make me your slut."

His hand stilled on her clit, his grip tightening. "That's it," he said, his voice low and predatory. "Ask for it like you mean it."

"Oh, God," she whimpered, her body trembling with need. "I need it. I need your cock in my ass."

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "So eager," he murmured, his hand sliding down to the base of his cock, still buried in her pussy. "But what if I don't want to give it to you?"

"Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" he echoed, his voice a dark purr that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me, slut, what would you do for it?"

Elaine's mind raced with the possibilities—the things she had already done, the things she knew he craved. "I'd lick your shoes clean," she offered, her voice a whisper. "I'd take any of your colleagues you want to watch, right here on this desk."

Mr. Blackwell's grip on her hip tightened, his breath hitching. "Keep going," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what else you'd do."

"I'd let you fuck me in front of a mirror," Elaine gasped, her cheeks flushing at the thought. "I'd watch us together, watch you own me like this." She knew it was what he wanted to hear—his desire to see her humiliation reflected in her own eyes. It was a heady power play that never failed to excite them both.

Mr. Blackwell's grip on her hip tightened, his cock pulsing within her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, his voice a dark whisper. "You'd like watching yourself be a whore for me."

"Yes," she gasped, her voice a breathless admission of her own depraved desires. "I want to see it all."

Mr. Blackwell chuckled, the sound low and dark. "That's what I like about you," he murmured, his hand sliding around to grip her throat. "You're always up for a good show." He pulled out of her, his cock slick with her juices. She watched in the mirror as he coated it with lubricant, her own arousal reflected back at her. "But first," he said, his eyes gleaming, "you need to warm up for me."

He slammed back into her pussy, making her gasp. "You're going to take it all," he said, his voice a demand. "Every fucking inch." She nodded, her eyes wide with excitement and a hint of trepidation. The thrill of the unknown, the edge of fear that came with it—it was a potent cocktail that made her blood race.

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "What do you think of when you take my cock in your ass?"

Elaine moaned, her cheek pressed against the cool desk as his cock slammed into her pussy. She could feel his gaze on her, his eyes devouring her every reaction. "I think of how much I love it," she gasped, her voice a desperate confession. "How much I love feeling your control, your power."

Mr. Blackwell chuckled, the sound sending a shiver through her. "You love being my little office slut, don't you?" His hand tightened on her throat, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her pulse point. "Tell me, what's your favorite part?"

Elaine's eyes rolled back in her head, her voice a strangled moan. "The way you talk to me," she confessed, her voice a whispered plea. "The filthy things you say—it makes me so wet."

Mr. Blackwell leaned in closer, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You like being talked dirty to, don't you?" he murmured, his breath a warm caress. "You like knowing you're a dirty little slut for me."

Elaine's cheeks flushed, the truth of his words igniting a fire in her core. She nodded, her voice a strangled whisper. "Yes, I do. It makes me so wet."

Mr. Blackwell's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. "Good girl," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Now tell me, what do you want me to do to you?"

"I want you to fuck me hard," Elaine whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. "I want you to fill me up—every hole."

Mr. Blackwell's grip tightened on her hip, his eyes burning with a fierce desire. "As you wish," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. He pulled out of her pussy, the wet sound of his cock leaving her filled her with a moment of emptiness. But it was quickly replaced with a thrill of anticipation as she felt the head of his cock nudge at her ass.

With one hand on her throat, keeping her in place, he used the other to guide himself in. She felt the tip of his cock push against her tight ring, stretching her open. "Relax," he ordered, his voice a gruff command. "I'm going to feel every inch of you, every tight little hole."

Elaine took a deep breath and did as she was told, focusing on the sensation of his cock pressing into her. She felt a flash of pain as he breached her, but she knew it was only the beginning. The pain quickly morphed into a burning pleasure, a feeling of fullness that she had grown to crave. He pushed deeper, his grip on her throat tightening slightly as she took all of him.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. "Look at what a whore you are for me." She forced her eyes open, staring at their reflection in the mirrored window. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a wild mess, and she was bent over his desk with his cock buried deep in her ass. It was the most erotic sight she had ever seen—the epitome of their twisted power play.

"You're so tight, baby," he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "So fucking tight." She bit her lip, the pain and pleasure melding together in a delicious symphony. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what a good girl you are."

"I'm a good girl," she whimpered, her voice tight with need. "I'm your good girl."

"That's right," he murmured, his hips starting to move. "My good little slut." He began to fuck her ass in earnest, his strokes deep and punishing. The pain was exquisite, a white-hot line of fire that seemed to connect her core to her soul. She felt her pussy clench around nothing, desperate for his cock.

"Tell me," he rasped, his hand tightening around her throat. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking," Elaine moaned, her voice a desperate whine, "about how wrong this is—how much I want to be your dirty little secret." She could feel the pressure building, her orgasm just out of reach.

But before she could say more, the door to Mr. Blackwell's office swung open with a bang, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. Both of them froze, their eyes locked on the reflection of the figure in the mirror. It was his ex-wife, Victoria, her face a mask of shock and disgust.

For a moment, the room was suspended in a tense silence, the only sound their harsh breathing. Then Victoria spoke, her voice cold as ice. "Jonathan," she said, her eyes flicking from his cock, still buried in Elaine's ass, to his face. "What the fuck is this?"

Elaine felt a jolt of panic, but Mr. Blackwell's grip on her throat was unyielding. He didn't stop fucking her—if anything, he went harder, as if daring his ex-wife to interrupt them. "It's what you always knew it was," he said, his voice a low growl. "I don't need your judgment, Victoria. This is none of your concern."

Victoria's eyes narrowed, and she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "You're a disgusting pig," she spat, her voice filled with venom. "How could you do this?"

Elaine's heart raced as she felt Mr. Blackwell's cock swell inside her, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Keep going," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper. "Keep begging for it."

Her eyes locked on Victoria's in the reflection, she felt a thrill of excitement mingle with the fear. "I want it," she gasped, the words a desperate plea. "I need it."

Mr. Blackwell chuckled, the sound dark and predatory. "Keep going," he urged, his strokes becoming more erratic. "Beg for it, baby."

Elaine moaned, the tension in the room thickening like a fog. "Please," she whined, her voice a desperate whine. "Fuck me harder—make me your slut."

Mr. Blackwell's eyes never left hers in the mirror, his strokes becoming more erratic as Victoria's eyes widened in shock. "Look at her," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Look at how much she wants it."

Victoria's face flushed with rage, but Elaine could see something else in her gaze—desire, curiosity, a hint of jealousy. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she had the power to evoke such a visceral reaction. She felt Mr. Blackwell's cock swell even further inside her, the pressure building with every thrust. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, Mr. Blackwell."

He grunted, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to come with my cock in your ass while my ex-wife watches."

Elaine felt a thrill of excitement at the thought—the ultimate power play. She pushed back against him, her body moving in rhythm with his, the tension in the room building to a crescendo. "Yes," she moaned, her voice a desperate whine. "Make me come."

Victoria's eyes were glued to their reflection, her hand moving to her own chest as if to still the rapid beating of her heart. "You're disgusting," she said again, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.

Mr. Blackwell's grip on Elaine's throat tightened slightly, his hips pistoning into her with an increased fervor. "You want this," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Victoria's in the mirror. "You want to watch me fuck her."

Victoria's hand hovered over her own chest, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "No," she said, but her voice was weak, her protest sounding forced.

"Don't lie to yourself," Mr. Blackwell said, his voice a dark purr. "You know you're wet, watching us." He slapped Elaine's ass, the sound echoing through the room. "Aren't you, Victoria?"

Elaine felt a shiver run through her, the thrill of the situation pushing her closer to the edge. She watched Victoria's hand move to the button of her blouse, her eyes never leaving their reflection in the mirror. The woman's cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated with desire. "I hate you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"But you want to be me," Elaine shot back, her voice filled with confidence. She pushed back against Mr. Blackwell, taking him deeper, her own orgasm building with every thrust. She could feel his cock swelling, his grip on her throat tightening as he approached his own climax. "You want to be the one taking it," she taunted, her voice a seductive whisper.

Victoria's hand hovered over her blouse, her eyes flicking to the side, watching as Mr. Blackwell's cock disappeared into Elaine's tight ass. "You always did have a taste for the filthy," she spat, but her voice was strained, her breath hitching as she watched them.

Mr. Blackwell's strokes grew more demanding, his hand tightening around Elaine's throat as he drove into her. "And you always knew you couldn't satisfy that taste," he said, his voice low and smug. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Victoria's hand hovered over her own blouse, her eyes flicking between the mirror and the desk. "I didn't come for this," she said, but the tremble in her voice belied her words.

"No," Mr. Blackwell murmured, his strokes growing more urgent. "You came to see if I've moved on. But here we are, fucking like animals, and all you can do is watch."

Victoria's hand trembled as she began to undo her blouse, her eyes never leaving the erotic tableau in the mirror. "You're a whore," she hissed, but there was a note of longing in her voice that didn't escape Elaine's notice.

"And you're a prude," Mr. Blackwell shot back, his voice thick with desire. "But you can't resist watching, can you?"

Victoria's eyes never left the mirror, her hand now working the zipper of her skirt with shaking fingers. "You always did love showing off," she murmured, her voice a mix of anger and arousal.

Elaine felt a thrill of victory as she watched Mr. Blackwell's face contort with pleasure, his strokes growing more erratic. "Look at her," she taunted, her voice a breathless whisper. "Look how much she wants to be me."

Victoria's skirt pooled around her ankles, her panties already soaked through. She stepped closer, her hand moving to her own pussy. "You're a slut," she murmured, her voice a mix of anger and desire. "Both of you."

Elaine's eyes never left Victoria's in the mirror, a smug smile playing on her lips. "We're just giving you what you want," she panted, her voice a taunt. "A good, hard fucking."

Mr. Blackwell chuckled, his strokes growing more aggressive. "You like watching, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a dark challenge. "You want to see what a real woman looks like when she's being used like a toy."

Victoria's hand slipped between her thighs, her fingers sliding over her slick folds. "You think you're so much better than me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "But you're just a whore for him."

Elaine's smile grew wicked as she watched Victoria's hand move more urgently, her own body responding to the woman's touch. "Maybe I am," she panted, "but at least I know how to please a man."

Mr. Blackwell's eyes lit up with a wicked spark, the challenge in Victoria's voice only fueling his desire. He leaned back, his cock still buried deep in Elaine's ass, and gestured to his ex-wife. "Why don't you come over here," he said, his voice a dark invitation. "Show us what you've got."

Victoria's hand stilled on her pussy, her eyes flicking from Elaine to Mr. Blackwell and back again. Then, with a defiant snarl, she stepped forward, her stockinged legs sliding over the plush carpet. She straddled the desk, her own thighs brushing against Elaine's, and leaned in to whisper in Mr. Blackwell's ear. "Fuck her," she demanded, her voice a desperate growl. "Fuck her until she can't take it anymore."

Mr. Blackwell's eyes lit up with a feral hunger, his grip on Elaine's hip tightening as he complied with Victoria's order. "You like watching, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a dark taunt. "You want to see what I do to her?"

Victoria's own hand moved faster, her eyes never leaving the mirror. "I want to hear it," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea. "Tell me how much you like it."

Elaine's cheeks flushed, the words sticking in her throat like a knot of pure, unbridled desire. "I love it," she gasped, her voice a needy whine. "I love being your slut, Mr. Blackwell."

Mr. Blackwell's strokes grew more demanding, his hand squeezing her hip as he pounded into her ass. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "Tell Victoria how much you love being my whore."

"I love it," Elaine gasped, the words torn from her as she felt his cock hit that sweet spot inside her. "I love being your dirty slut."

Victoria's hand stilled on her own pussy, and she leaned closer to the mirror, her eyes meeting Elaine's. There was something in the way Elaine said it, something raw and unfiltered, that made Victoria's breath catch in her throat. Without thinking, she leaned over and pressed her mouth to Elaine's, her hand coming up to cup her face. The kiss was unexpected, but the passion behind it was undeniable—a mix of anger, desire, and something else that neither of them could quite put a name to.

Elaine's eyes went wide with shock for a moment before she melted into it, her body responding to the sudden intimacy. She could taste Mr. Blackwell on Victoria's tongue, and the thought of being the center of their depraved attention only made her more desperate for release. She moaned into the kiss, her hips bucking back against Mr. Blackwell's thrusts.

"Tell her," Mr. Blackwell grunted, his voice strained with effort. "Tell her how much you love it."

To be continued…