FemDom Fantasies

Boss Lady by Mich MasochBoss Lady

Catlin finds her new job has sexy perks.

At only twenty-seven, Cait has landed her dream job, managing contracting and design at the high-end Windswept development. There’s just one problem: Lorenzo, her lead man. For months, he’s given her nothing but cold indifference, while she’s spent every night fantasizing about him. But Cait discovers his chilly façade hides an intense desire. Though she’s never really tried BDSM or dominated a man in bed, Lorenzo offers her a proposition she can’t resist.

Anything you want.

“Boss Lady” (approx. 11,000 words) is the first of Mich Masoch’s Quick & Dirty BDSM FemDom Fantasies, a continuing series of feminine domination short stories written for maximum erotic and emotional impact in a compact, easy-to-read length.

Please note: This story contains strong language, intense sexual situations, sex in semi-public places, sex in the workplace, and depictions of BDSM practices including dominance and submission, power exchange, light bondage, and mild interrogation. It is intended for adult audiences only.

Available now: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords, Scribd

excerpt:

A bead of sweat tickled Cait’s neck in an unhurried descent. If she closed her eyes and focused hard enough on the sensation, she could almost confuse it with the tease of a lover’s tongue. She leaned back in her chair, trying to stretch out the pleasure for as long as possible.

Damn, she needed to get laid.

Had it really been almost a year? After Peter, she’d buried herself in work and sworn off dating until she remembered how to like herself again. But even she recognized her dry spell as bullshit rationalization at this point. While she’d never taken on a project as large as Windswept, her around-the-clock obsession with keeping the development on track had nothing to do with proving herself anymore.

Well, maybe a little bit.

She’d won over contracting crews certain a “little girl” couldn’t handle running a site, but not her lead man. No matter what she did, Lorenzo gave her nothing but cold shoulder. She’d been warned he was a traditional old-timer, but had expected the usual breed of decrepit geezer. Then he’d thrown her off-kilter from day one, roaring up on a Fat Bob with his lean muscles clad in well-worn leather and denim, like a candy coating for her hard-case sweet tooth. The bastard called her Boss Lady, his voice ratcheting tighter with each passing day. So she never let him forget who was in charge, staying onsite to keep a constant watch on his setters, which meant slogging through paperwork all night while trying in vain to push the tantalizing image of him out of her mind.

Glare burned her eyes as the setting sun peeked through the models across the cul de sac. She didn’t want to fire up the generator, so had less than an hour left before the natural light was gone. Building in the unincorporated boonies had its advantages, but not when it came to restoring power after an outage. At least, with the crews sent home, she’d finish her work before bedtime for a change.

Maybe she’d go out to see that band, after all. She held her phone for a moment, head searching for a reason not to call, but resistance was futile. What was not to love about a night of kick-ass rock-n-roll and an after-party full of hot, sweaty guys in leather? Before she could attempt to answer the question, she poked the connect button. The tone hardly beeped when Bonnie picked up, her manic voice even more chirpy than usual. “Why Ms. Caitlin Gaines, calling on a Friday night. Did you hear the thud? That’s me, dropping dead of a heart attack.” Subtlety was not Bonnie’s strong suit.

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m a laugh riot. But, enough about me. I’m much more interested in talking about you, Rapunzel. Tell me you’re going to climb down from the tower and have a good time. You deserve it, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Bonnie had held her hand and supported her through the ugly fallout of the break-up. It’s what kept Cait from punching her in the mouth when she started to get pushy about the self-imposed isolation. “I’m thinking about it. A blackout shut us down, so I caught up on paperwork early. Viper Room tonight?”

“Hell yeah. Glasgow Kiss, baby, guaranteed Next Big Thing as soon as the album drops. The agency gave us carte blanche, so we’re throwing an epic rager after hours. I’ll hook you up with the singer. You’ll dig him.” Her exaggerated moan fuzzed through the speaker. “What he can do with his tongue should be declared illegal in at least thirty states.”

“You’ve been with him?” She refrained from adding an ew, but just barely. Her tone said it, anyway.

“Sharing is caring. Besides, it’s not like you’re looking for a relationship. The boy is surface of the sun level hot. And, trust me, you’re right in his sweet spot. He has a thing for girl-next-door types. I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. I had my mind somewhere far more amusing at the time.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” With Bonnie, that was frequently the best policy. “I should be done here soon. I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, no. That’s where you get yourself in trouble. Don’t think, just do.”

“What are you, my fucking Yoda?”

“Hey, I like that. But, seriously, you need to dial back. I’ve got to recruit outside talent to even give you a shot. Do yourself and your goodies a favor, huh?” Cait tried to find a suitable response, but was too busy telling herself Bonnie hadn’t said what she thought she’d heard. “And, one teensy suggestion: if you go back to your place, maybe you could tell him you’re a trustafarian.”

Nope, that’s exactly what she meant. Whenever dating came up, Bonnie never failed to remind her why she took pains to avoid the subject. “Gee, it’s a shame I won’t have time to squeeze in a lobotomy on such short notice.”

“Oh, for chrissakes, Cait. I don’t like it any more than you do, but the MBA isn’t about to hop off my wall, pull my hair, and spank my ass any time soon. You’re only twenty-seven; lighten up and let yourself have some fun.”

“You mean dumb down.”

“We’re not exactly swimming in the deep end of the dating pool. I’m not saying you won’t find a genius with a penchant for accomplished women in a mosh pit, but you might consider keeping a few laurels on the shelf until your unicorn shows up.”

“Maybe I should just skip it.” She was already exhausted and completely over the whole idea.

“Come on. If the boys in the band don’t work out, your power tools will still be there later. You need a night out.”

“I need a man.”

“Don’t we all,” Bonnie sighed. “Think about it?”

“Yeah. I’ll try.”

“Two words: magic tongue.”

“Thanks Bonbon. You’re a good sport.”

“Love you too, doll.”

Cait knew before she hit the drop button what’d happen tonight. If she deigned to go, she’d wind up bored out of her mind in an over-crowded room full of howling drunks, wondering what the hell she’d been thinking. Instead, she’d spare herself the drama and jump directly to her usual hot date with her imagination and Mr. Hitachi. Bonnie would somehow find a way to survive the disappointment of having the magic tongue all to herself.

With the juice on her laptop flagging, she’d never finish plotting the courtyard design. She should work on the builder scrapbook, anyway. Drew had gotten so impatient, he’d sorted through the stack of months’ worth of photos himself, and that was already a few weeks ago. If she blew off his pet project any longer, he’d never let her hear the end of it. He’d been even more of a prick than usual, and she didn’t need any more of his shit. Much as it grated, she could suck it up and play pseudo-secretary until his support staff came on board. At least, it’d give him nothing to bitch about–nothing legitimate, anyway.

If she laid the photos out on the conference table, she could view them all in one fell swoop. Dealing them like cards, she set them up in columns to keep the time frames blocked together. She had to admit, they were the most compelling project photos she’d ever seen, a real slice of the busy life of a construction site. To have a true record of the build, mounted cameras on timers took candid snaps of the work in progress. At first, everyone’d felt self-conscious. But, in no time, the random hums and clicks blended into the workplace buzz, capturing the site in its unguarded state of organized chaos.

Right off the bat, she spotted a few nose picks and nut and ass scratches Drew had missed, and they joined the scrap heap of history. Next, unflattering shots of her had to go. She hated job photos of herself enough already. They always looked like some jerkoff cut their kid loose onsite. Adding a face frozen in some bizarre mid-word expression pushed too far outside her tolerance level. To be fair, she scanned the rejects, ensuring nothing important got eliminated for her ego. As she reviewed the pile, just over a dozen, a pattern emerged. A tingling knot formed in her belly. It seemed too crazy, so she examined them again more carefully, to be sure. But there was no doubt; in every photo, Lorenzo discreetly ogled her. The stuffy office felt even hotter. His persistent attention had to be a coincidence. The rest of the photos would bear that out.

Or not.

Column by column, she looked again, systematically working her way across the table. The idea seemed ludicrous, but the proof sat right under her nose. Her breaths wheezed in shallow gasps. In every photo Lorenzo wasn’t engaged with his work, he watched her. As she moved to the right and forward in time, his gaze grew hungrier and, lately, tinged with melancholy. The knot in her belly tightened. How could she not have noticed?

Her damp t-shirt and shorts clung to her skin, the feeling too close to naked. The photo slipped from her shaking hand, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need a photo to remember the rich topaz of his eyes or the captivating smile he gave to everyone but her. And she certainly needed no help picturing every contour of his body, always clearly visible through the tight black tank he paired with low-slung jeans that rode under his taut belly. Working its way downward, her mind’s eye served up another always: Lorenzo went commando. The worn-thin denim hugged him with every movement, and left little mystery about where he carried his most impressive tool. Unbearable heat from within joined forces with the humid air from without, sparking fire that consumed any possibility of cooling down.

What would he do if she called him out? She’d have to work up the balls to do it first. Who was she kidding? She had a brass set that rivaled the biggest hardass on any site she’d ever run. The real trick was managing to spit it out before she drooled all over herself. Lorenzo wasn’t the trifling boys she was used to dealing with, but an honest-to-goodness man. She couldn’t keep from sweating and creaming her panties at his picture. How did she hope to keep it together with those hungry eyes clapped on her and his musk hanging in the air?

Oh god, his scent. There was no other way to describe it except that he smelled like fucking, or more specifically, like the most sweetly sticky, vigorous fuck she’d ever have. Just the memory of it made her want to forget every idea of professional propriety she’d ever had, saddle up, and ride him to glory. Pulse throbbed between her legs with frantic urgency, her muscles clamping, aching for the relief of being filled. She could almost smell him, feel his rough hands grabbing her ass.

How would he fuck her? Would his touch be as exquisite and delicate as the mosaic women he crafted with graceful hands, slowly building her pleasure with a deft touch? Or would he ravage her, grab her by the hips, and bury that amazing cock balls deep with wild abandon? She wanted it all, every last delectable possibility.

A pained groan crossed her lips. Cait was alone, and had been for hours. No one would ever know.

Her fingers slid under the leg of her shorts, teasing her clit while she imagined the press of his wide mouth, the heat of his breath, and the paradise of his tongue on her needy flesh. Her hand was already slick when it slipped beneath the delicate lace of her panties, the feel of skin on skin too hot to wait any longer.

Even three fingers wouldn’t compare to him, but they’d have to do. Ass perched on the edge of her chair, she arched back, propping her feet on the edge of the table. Fingers plunged inside her, curling to slowly massage her g-spot, and she immediately quivered with bliss. She traced lazy circles over her clit, giving it a sharp squeeze as she imagined Lorenzo’s cock filling her, stretching her. His eyes appeared in her thoughts, studying her rapture as the first orgasm took hold, and she rocked into each deep thrust.

Waves of pleasure washed through her, one after the other, as the strokes grew faster, harder, deeper. She could hear the clap of their bodies slapping together and the low growl of his moans echoing in her mind. She wanted to rake her nails down his back, sink her teeth into hard muscle. Her body shook with mounting desire, mouth open and muttering in garbled wails. She was almost there.

Then she heard the music.

One Response to FemDom Fantasies

  1. Pingback: Warm & Fuzzy BDSM! Yippee! “Boss Lady” is Available NOW! | Mich Masoch

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