Dirtiest Lie Read Online Free PDF

me by motioning me over with a condescending gesture.
    “Crawl,” he says before I take two steps.
    “Excuse me?”
    He picks up a pen and clicks the top, then reaches for a stack of documents with yellow “sign here” notes sticking out.
    The office falls silent except for the scrape of pen across paper.
    From the time he’s taking, I guess he’s carefully writing out his full name. Hawthorne Tarraget. I suppose it’s a lot of letters.
    The more he ignores me, the hornier I get.
    It occurs to me that this morning of training is, so far, an unmitigated disaster. Slade or Romeo should have gone first. Probably Romeo. Slade is too… easygoing. He’s dominant, but he doesn’t push me emotionally. Sexually, sure, he likes identifying my limits and then breaking through them. All my bosses do.
    But Slade would never have expected me to beg. Slade wouldn’t be making me crawl across his office just so I can suck his dick.
    Romeo might make me do something humiliating, but he wouldn’t let things get so that both our egos were wrapped up in the outcome.
    Anyway, I’m horny, and while sucking him isn’t exactly what I want to be doing with my time, not sucking him is an obstacle to getting the fucking that I asked for.
    So I lower myself to my knees. I drop my head down and see my inner thighs are damp. I glance up to confirm that Hawthorne isn’t looking at me, but in the end I decide not to explore just how wet I am.
    Sighing, I crawl across the office and around his desk. It’s like going around a mountain.
    He shoves back his chair. “Bend over,” he says, picking up the ruler. He pats his lap.
    Eyeing the ruler, which is twelve inches of rigid wood that nonetheless looks like it could easily break, I stand, then delicately position myself across Hawthorne’s lap.
    His cock is harder than ever, and it jabs into my ribs as he pulls me down, getting me into the uncomfortable position he wants.
    “Put both your index fingers into your pussy,” he commands. His voice is low, deep and even.
    But he can’t fool me.
    I recognize the tension in his body as mirroring my own, and his breathing is shallow with arousal.
    And then, yeah, there’s that cock. It’s hot and sticky under my body.
    I start to slide my hands back, over my buttocks, but Hawthorne uses the ruler to flick my fingers away.
    “No,” he says. “From underneath.”
    It’s not exactly comfortable, but I lie on my hands and slowly shove my index fingers into my clutching heat.
    I’m wet. And horny. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning.
    “Leave your hands there,” he says hoarsely. “The rest of your fingers will remain curled.”
    Before I can ask why, he slaps the ruler hard across my buttocks, and I gasp. Because of where my fingers are, I get to appreciate the tight clenching of my pussy.
    Slowly, I move one of my hands so that my thumb is across my clit, and I tease the engorged nub.
    Hawthorne’s voice is right in my ear as he whispers, “Did I give you permission to play with yourself?”
    “You told me to put my fingers into my pussy,” I snap, trying to twist my head in an attempt to glare at him. “I didn’t realize I needed a lawyer to break down what that does and doesn’t mean.”
    His response is nonverbal: a hard strike across my ass.
    “Ow!” It’s a narrow but intense band of pain.
    “Make as much noise as you want,” he murmurs huskily. “It turns me on, and this room is soundproof. But even if it weren’t, I don’t care if the entire office knows I’ve got your gorgeous, naked body across my lap. I don’t care if the entire world knows I’m punishing you.”
    Why does that make me even wetter?
    “If you want to play with your pussy, ask,” he says.
    I tilt my head up far enough to meet his dominating stare. “If it pleases your kingship, I’d like to play with myself.”
    “Would you also like to orgasm?”
    “Yes,” I say. “If that’s not too inconvenient for you.”
    “Request