Oral Queen

Okay, this might be selfish, but there weren't any non-selfish options here. She didn't really need rehab, so giving her more pleasure was the nicest option, right? I was a good guy, right? Even my slowly coming together plan about use of the orgasm lock was obviously in her interest, right? She couldn't really be satisfied with Andre, given what I knew about his performance with Asa...

I was really helping her and rescuing her from a life of mediocre sex.

I was.

I closed the phone. "Lead the way."

The dining room was excessive, pure white and large enough for dinner parties. A single place setting was at the end. I took my seat and tried the reheated pizza and chips she'd managed to get on the plate.

It was fine. Clearly not Pizza Hut, it was homemade, presumably by the housekeeper she'd mentioned before she went on leave. I sneered. "Unimpressive."

"Sorry, sir. My housekeeper only made enough meals for me, and they're all vegan, I didn't think you'd like them."

"Not exactly a good cook, or cleaner, are you?" I asked, in-between bites.

"No, sir," she admitted.

"Then what are you good at? Besides sucking cock?" I asked.

"I'm a senior executive at Gotham Insurance, and very good at it." I gave her a calm look, and she belatedly added, "Sir.'

Inwardly, my mind was racing. Gotham Insurance had screwed me pretty good a couple of years ago, when Batman and the Joker fighting had burned down the apartment I was living in. I'd lost a lot of my stuff and they'd basically only reimbursed me for about a tenth of it...maybe it wasn't the teasing that meant she'd 'wronged' me? No way to know, yet.

"Then you don't deserve that outfit."

She took the implied order and began to strip, instantly.

She tried to head down under the table, but I snapped my fingers towards my side and after a moment, she knelt there.

I ate very deliberately slowly. "Sir, don't you want me to suck your cock while you eat?"

"No. I want you to kneel where you are. When I'm done with dinner, you will pleasure me while I watch the news. Perhaps you'll even manage to cum this time?" I suggested with a smirk. "Then I expect you to clean the house, figure out how you will feed me rather better than this, for the rest of this weekend, and write me an essay, no less than five hundred words, on what worked for you and what didn’t of this session, before you come to bed. If I'm still awake when you get there, and you can get me hard, then I'll use you again. If not, then don't wake me, or sleep in the same bed. Oh, and either way, I expect your lips around my cock to be my alarm clock."

"When do you wake up, sir?"

"Six in the morning."

"Sir, I don't think I can learn to cook in one day. Can I order food for you?"

I gave her a flat look. "It's not as good as homemade, but I suppose your money is part of you and you can use it to please me."

"What do you like, sir?"

"Your lips around my cock. Your throat surrendering its purpose to my pleasure. You obediently kneeling there, trying to serve me properly. Your cunt squeezing down on me as you edge yourself for me. The look on your face when you cum..."

She whimpered at that, but managed to rephrase the question. The rest of the meal was spent like that, with me teasing her and her attempting, moderately successfully, to figure out what food she should order for me for tomorrow, though I doubted she’d have any success matching my mother’s chili.