Page 4 of Office Match

Calvin

Nervousness is not something I’m accustomed to, but it’s the only way to describe how I feel standing outside of the club. I take another glance around at the variations of masks to adorn guests faces while I try to figure out if one of them is her.

Of course, I won’t be able to tell. That’s the whole point.

So, with that in mind, I take a deep breath and pull my shoulders back and stride toward the VIP entrance, then stroke my finger over the scanner to gain access.

The door opens and a woman with long blonde hair in loose waves greets me wearing a mask, and I scan her body for a sign of my cock becoming interested yet find none. “This way, Blade.” Her blood-red lips curve and she tilts her head toward a corridor. “Your guest requested a private room tonight. I trust that’s okay with you?”

My body screams hell yes, but I choose to fake calmness.

I gift her a tilt of my head. “Of course.”

“Your submissive has been blindfolded, gagged, and prepared at your mercy.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I almost choke on my tongue.

“Gagged?”

She spins to face me, then glances down at her iPad. “You ticked yes to every box, sir. So your date was matched accordingly.”

My mouth becomes dry at the prospect of me screwing this up so early on, so I force the words out. “Of course. Thank you.”

She pauses before speaking again, and my heart thuds, waiting for her to respond. I can’t lose this fucking date; I can practically taste it.

Eventually, she sighs. “Very well. Would you like me to run you through the safety protocols?”

She stops outside a door, and my body vibrates with desperation to gain entry, to unleash on her body like never before. To not just pump and dump but give her my entirety.

I clear my throat. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

She nods, then moves aside to allow me to open the door, and the moment I do, my lungs tighten, making it difficult for me to breathe, the air trapped inside at the sight before me.

She’s completely at my mercy.

My submissive.

4

Emily

I’ve been preened within an inch of my life. Every hair removable has been waxed, then my body moisturized after creating the perfect canvas for my date to mark as he sees fit. Wetness gathers between my thighs, but the position I’m in makes it difficult for me to move. My blindfold in place, my hands have been tied behind my back, and I’m gagged.

I have my hair down in long luscious waves, and my nipples are pebbled, begging for attention, and only a tiny red G-string barely concealing my pussy.

Soft sensual music filters through the speakers, but when the door opens, my head darts up toward the sound.

Being blindfolded is new to me, and I’m happy to try anything, but I wonder who has entered the room. I can only hope he’s tall, dark, and handsome, and when my boss’s face flashes before my eyes, I whimper, annoyed with myself that my mind went there.

“What a perfect little submissive.” His voice comes out gravelly and choked, causing a rush of arousal to flood me.

Jesus, his voice sounds hot, full of desire and need.

His footsteps circle me, and when his fingers comb through my hair, I can’t help but moan. A thousand goose bumps spread over my body, and when he yanks my head back, I relish the bite against my scalp.

“You like rough.” It’s not a question, a statement, one I’m only too pleased to acknowledge with a tight nod.

“Then rough is what you’re going to get.”

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