Page 46 of Longing for Liberty
He took a prewrapped sandwich from the fridge and left me to go back to the table. I stood there leaning against the counter, feeling like a spoiled rotten, horrible person as I enjoyed every single sip. It became immediately clear that I had zero tolerance for alcohol or caffeine anymore because I felt lightheaded, which would have never happened before.
When I finished and was putting the bottles away, I glanced at the labels and saw the dates. Three years ago. Son of a bitch. Secret commerce for our governing officials. How nice for them. I stood on my toes and shoved the bottles back onto the shelf as far as I could get them. Then I washed out my mug and ate the rest of my breakfast as lunch, washing my hands afterward and rinsing my mouth at the sink.
It was time to sweep. I moved out of the kitchen toward the hall, but the Secretary stopped me with two words from where he sat.
“Come here.”
Immediately, all of the anticipation and nervousness rose to the surface like the thick part of the cream as I slowly moved to stand beside where he sat. At first, he didn’t look up at me, so I glanced at his screen long enough to see a couple of headings in the charts: State Force Names and Numbers. My mind swam with a ridiculous mild buzz.
His head turned, and mine swung toward him. He held my eyes as his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out something small, silver, and bulbous.
“I have something for you.”
He held it up, and I inhaled sharply. A butt plug? My abdomen clenched with nervous surprise. I’d never seen one in real life. Wait, he wanted to…oh my God.
I quickly shook my head, my whole body buzzing with nerves and something uniquely spicy that made me feel like I couldn’t stand still. “I can’t,” I stuttered. “I’ve never…”
He cocked his head. “We’re starting small. You enjoyed what I did to you.”
My body wiggled as I shuffled my feet, not meeting his eye. “It’s not allowed.” Sodomy and all that.
He wasn’t having my excuses. “Face the table with your palms down.”
I met his eyes with mild defiance, which quickly fizzled at the sight of his very serious face.
I slowly turned and placed my hands flat on the cool glass, my senses heightened, my chest rising and falling quickly.
Fitzhugh’s hands were hot against my legs as he slid my skirt up around my waist and tugged my panties down, having me step out of them before tossing them onto the table. I felt his hands grasp my buttocks, squeezing both, and then suddenly the heat of his mouth was there, his tongue running from between my legs all the way up my middle.
I surged forward and cried out, not expecting such a sensation. He gripped my hips harder and pulled me to him, his tongue moving against me. I was torn between wanting to pull away from him and wanting to push my hips back. Another moan escaped me, and I was shocked by how good it felt.
When I was sufficiently wet, he stood at my side and pulled my hair down, pushing it off my shoulder to kiss my neck as he rubbed the silver plug against my hole, pushing it in the tiniest bit and then letting it slide back out. Back and forth, back and forth, he rocked the tip of the bulb into me, but I was tight and resistant.
With his free hand, Fitzhugh took my face firmly and made me look at him. “Relax your body.”
I nodded and tried to. He kept my face in his hand, our eyes locked as he pushed the plug further, making me cry out as it popped in and my body adjusted around it. My mouth was open, breathing hard.
“Good girl.” He pulled me upright and tugged my skirt back down, then took my chin again to stare down into my eyes. “Now, finish what you were doing and come back to me.”
Finish what I was doing? WhatwasI doing? He let go of my face and sat back down at his computer to work. I looked around, my body on fire as I tried to think clearly. Um…oh, yes! The stupid floors. I reached for my panties, but he stopped my hands.
“Not those.”
Okay, then.
I started toward the utility closet, but dear God, the plug inside me made each step feel like an erotic dance. My arms shook as I took out the broom and swept.Damn this man!Without any panties on, my inner thighs were getting slick.
Focus, focus, focus.
It felt like it took a decade to finish the floors. Next, I took the fresh, warm sheets from the dryer and made his bed, looking over my shoulder every few seconds as if he might come in and ravage me where I stood. Every time I started to imagine it, I shook the images away. I’d never felt so edgy. It was impossible to figure out what he’d do next.
When I finished all of my work except making his dinner, I quietly and nervously made my way to his side, waiting for him to acknowledge me. He closed his laptop and leaned back in the chair, looking up at me. A full-body shiver raced over me, making his mouth quirk again. He slowly stood and loomed over me.
“Lift your skirt.”
I gave him a small nod before bending enough to grasp the bottom of the fabric and wiggle it up over my hips. The Secretary reached behind me with both hands, cupping my ass and lifting me to sit on the cool edge of the glass table. The plug hit with aclinksound. I sucked in a gasp as our eyes met, and he didn’t look away. His face was so serious. Then he took the back of my head in one hand, and my upper back in the other, leaning me back until I was lying fully on the table. I shuddered with the small breaths I was taking in and out. Fitzhugh grasped my thighs and opened them, staring down between my legs. I was absolutely trembling now as his eyes slowly raked up to mine, a feral hunger there.
“Unbutton your top.”
