With Interest Ch. 2

"Shit, that was good!" I muttered. And if I felt a little like a shit for having put her in such a difficult position, something in me wouldn't let me admit it. Yes, our sex was getting beyond better and better; it was incredible, very often with simultaneous climaxes. Still, it continued to be under the auspices of our 'arrangement' – completely at my call, and I wasn't willing to change that just yet.

"Yeah," she breathed, leaning on the cabinet, still beneath me – still threaded. I wasn't quite sure if I detected a question mark at the end of that. I didn't pursue it.

–– o ––

Some time later, while on the phone, long-distance, with Jock MacAllistair images of their previous congress – including Penelope's first client-fuck – flitted across my mind's eye as we discussed our business. My prick was rapidly coming to attention just from the lascivious memories. So I contrived to catch her eye and with a subtle head movement summoned her as I unzipped and rolled back from my desk. Thank goodness for cordless phones! Penelope dropped to a crouch and, without the slightest hesitation, engulfed me completely. Her succulent lips wetting my length as her sucking cheeks caressed me with their velvet warmth. Pulling back, she swirled her tongue around my glans, poking its tip into my pee-hole before sliding gently back down to the base with a seductive grace.

I tried, with measured success, to keep my arousal out of my voice, and we eventually finished our business. "How's that superb assistant of yours?" Jock asked, his voice a conspiratorial smarm.

"Well, Jock, my boy," I told him, mimicking his drawl, "She's goin' down on me as we speak. And it's marvelous! Listen to this." I held the receiver down so he could hear her slurping and sucking.

Yet, while I was luxuriating in her ministrations, teasing Jock, all those miles away, the thought came to me, "Why do I treat her this way? Humiliation and degradation offend me, yet isn't that exactly what I'm doing to her?" The slight wilt of my rod, as consequent of my bizarre musing, prompted Penelope to redouble her attentions. Bathing in the blissful application of her talents, my untimely musing carried on.

I continually mortified her, yet she seemed unfazed by it all. So why'd I do it? The sad answer was, I had to admit, simply because I could. And, I realized, I might just continue for as long as I was able. Was it some sort of macho thing? I didn't think so. I mean, I really wasn't into that macho stuff. And, while much of what I required of Penelope was subtly, or not so subtly, designed to demonstrate her subservience – her place in the arrangement – she didn't seem to mind. Certainly, she had never, ever complained. I pondered our relationship – our agreement – and decided that, although it was definitely something to do with dominance and submission, my demands were, perhaps, not so much for 'humiliation and degradation' as 'spice and novelty'.

Spice and novelty; I liked that. Suddenly, the spice and novelty of the situation became paramount once again. "Nice talkin' to you, Jock," I said, returning the receiver to my ear. My breath was suddenly ragged, huffing and blowing in time to the convulsive jerkings of my straining prick. "I gotta go, now. I hope you understand." He guffawed his good-bye and hung up, just in time for me to seize Penelope's head, holding her impaled as I blasted my seed deep into her gullet. Swallowing and sucking and snorting, she waited after my last spurt before withdraw slowly.

Grabbing a tissue and offering her one, I wheeled my chair back a bit. "Lovely, my dear," I said with forced nonchalance. "Jock MacAllistair sends his regards. He hopes to be out this way soon, and looks forward to seeing you again." I punctuated the remark with a leering wink. Penelope simple nodded and returned to her desk.

Continued in part three.