Alpha-Male
 

This woman has given me power over the flesh and bone. Over the spirit.

I stare into those blue eyes (the eyes that cry for me, the eyes that beg for pardon) and feel a wave of love and compassion. I feel an intense need to cradle her, to sooth the bruises, and be a lover. To love her as an equal would scare her away. Sadness. Sadness brings confusion. Confusion fuels anger. Rage.

She was my Assistant. Secretary. Subordinate.

Just another day of pointless work, as she scribbled my pointless dictation.

It was a tiny string of fabric hanging from the hem of her skirt that brought Paradise and Hell. It bothered me; it distracted me. I asked her around my desk, still lost in the endless pursuit of money and power. I pulled the string almost absently. I was not absent for the result.

Her skirt split and fell to the floor. Her pussy bulged beneath white silk panties. Decorum never crossed my mind: I could see the outline of those lips captured in silk. She did not miss a beat. There was no schoolgirl shame. (I think this is the cause of my desire) She never flinched. She gave me the view, then dared me to be the Alpha-Male.

“Can you set aside your money long enough to fuck this pussy?”

Oh yes. I was excited and the first slap was rather rough. She gave me a bloody smile and begged for more.

(Part One)

Jesus
 

This story is a disaster

I’ll never finish it. It's pulp.

All Apologies..