The Billionaire's Bimbo (Mind Control/Billionaire Erotica)
Cherise is a professional. At least, that's what she tells herself - but whenever she's in her boss's office, she can't think of herself as anything but a woman. The way that Clive Williams looks at her - his piercing gaze, the sheer masculinity of the man. Whenever Cherise is in his presence, she becomes suddenly hyper-aware of her femininity, the curves of her body, the fact that if she took off More
Cherise is a professional. At least, that's what she tells herself - but whenever she's in her boss's office, she can't think of herself as anything but a woman. The way that Clive Williams looks at her - his piercing gaze, the sheer masculinity of the man. Whenever Cherise is in his presence, she becomes suddenly hyper-aware of her femininity, the curves of her body, the fact that if she took off just a few clothes, she could be bringing pleasure to him...and every other man in the office. One day, it becomes too much for her, and she knows that she has to be taken, be treated like a woman...but how can she make sat her needs and ensure that she's still considered a professional?
EXPLCIIT: This sizzling 3600-word story contains oral sex, elements of exhibitionism, and a businesswoman fantasizing about being taken by every man in her office, especially her sexy boss, until she can't stand it any longer and allows herself to be taken on her desk, in the middle of the office, giving into her desires and cumming over and over again...
With my slender figure, I get buzzed pretty quickly, so even though I'd made sure not to let my glass be refilled, I was feeling slightly heady as the five men and myself walked through the door. My success gave me the bravado to walk straight up the sedate bartender, and ask for six "of his best".
As I turned back to triumphantly grin at my co-workers, I saw him.
He didn't say a word, and his gaze never left my face, but a flush started to rise through my body as I again became acutely aware that I was the only woman in a room full of men. The five men I'd just been drinking with, the bartender, New York's elite...all of them were undoubtedly checking me out.
And why shouldn't they? I knew exactly how hot I was.
I'd left my jacket in Branson's office, and the second Clive's eyes hit mine, I realized that New York's heat had caused my white shirt to stick to my body, showing off my perfectly toned stomach, the curve of my bust. What's more, my sweat had caused it to become slightly transparent.
If anyone were to notice that, it was Clive. His boyish good looks were almost as renowned as his savvy business sense. If he wasn't hitting the front pages for making another billion, he was hitting the gossip pages for rumours that he was dating another movie star or model.
Fortunately, that day I was wearing stockings - I'd had to, to justify the slightly shorter skirt I'd found at the back of my wardrobe, and been unable to resist wearing. It was my day to celebrate, after all, and I wanted to look good.
Defiantly, I stared back at Clive. Meeting his gaze, I tried to look haughty, proud, like I was a professional, not a...not a...bimbo.
I bit my lip. That was it, wasn't it? He thought I was just using my femininity to get ahead. He thought I had flirted my way through my successful deal, and was meeting with the top men in his company to try to seduce my way to promotion. He thought that I'd picked out my most revealing outfit, just to draw the men's attention to my body, to make sure that every time they looked at me, they thought of sex...
My face went red as I realized how he expected the rest of the night to go. As if I could read his mind, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he thought I was going to get up on one of the club's tables...not straight away of course, but after a few more drinks, enough to pretend that I wasn't responsible for my actions. He thought I was going to persuade my horny companions to "dare" me, and then take it as permission to get up, and dance for them...
I'd stand on the table, surrounded by the most powerful men in the city - hell, some of the most powerful men in the world. I'd dance, and with every move, every beat of the strong, sticky music, I'd know that all of their eyes on me. That men who could buy and sell the world ten times over were suddenly entranced by me, lusting after me, wanting to touch me, taste me, fuck me...
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