Chapter 34 – Mal gets Paris off

While we wait for the delivery, I clear space at the table and Mal finishes his notes. I know that since he now has a plan of how to work, he has to take it to his bosses. The deal is just too big to let it lay entirely on Mal’s shoulders. But unless the McGregor family is stupid, this is an easy deal. Mal has all but won.

When security buzzes up, asking about our late evening dinner delivery, I take the elevator down to see why they didn’t just let him up like they would any other food delivery. As soon as I exit the elevator though, I can see why it was a problem. Normally the food delivery is a guy carrying a bag. Maybe a thermal tote to keep the food warm. This isn’t that.

The ‘food delivery’ from Alinea is evidently the sous chef along with a hostess and an entire portable kitchen. He doesn’t’ seem perturbed or bothered at all and once I get him past security he gets all of his equipment up to Mal’s office where he just starts cooking.

Mal and I take our seats as the hostess sets the table with candles and place settings. She explains each dish as the chef delivers them and lets Mal and I enjoy it before the next course comes up. To say the food was good is a disservice to it. It’s beyond good and I can easily see why they wouldn’t just send it in take-out containers as the food literally changes as it sits before us. It would never make the trip from the restaurant, let alone be as good without the amazing presentation.

All in all, our tasting menu consists of nine courses, each better than the last and was topped off by a desert presentation called ‘Paint’ where the chef and hostess literally lay out a silicon tablecloth and ‘paint’ our desert onto it. The presentation combines light, smoke, music, and even aromas to make it a truly once a lifetime experience.

After we finished our breathtaking meal and the chef and hostess have everything packed back up, I see Mal go to his little safe and pull out stacks of bills. Cash. I can’t see the total amount, but by the number of one-hundred-dollar bills in the first pass, Mal paid at least five thousand dollars for our meal. And then tipped another one thousand on top of that.

Once they’re gone, I turn to Mal and smile. I know it’s unlikely I’ll ever experience a meal like that again. Even though I’ll have the memory as Paris, the perky secretary for a power-hungry sexist man, it’s still something special that I’ll never forget. Walking up to Mal I place a hand on his chest and say earnestly, “Thank you Mal. That was, that was very special. I’m not sure why you’d celebrate like that with me, but I know that it’s not something you do regularly and want you to know that I really appreciate it.”

Mal reaches up and holds my shoulder, pulling me in close as he to, genuinely, smiles down at me, “You’re very welcome Paris. And don’t sell yourself short, this deal is ours together. I’ll get all the credit and accolades from the company but you and I both know that I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you. So, thank YOU!”

I stiffen up as I watch Mal coming in closer for an obvious kiss. Everything about the moment is perfect and romantic except for the fact that I’m NOT the perky sexy secretary he’s making me out to be. That he wants me to be. I feel relieved as I see that realization wash over Mal and he changes direction at the last moment, turning so that he can place a soft kiss on my cheek.

When Mal releases my shoulder, he reaches down and gives me a soft pat the my tush and chuckles, “Now don’t let this get to your head. We still have work to do. Organize the files on my desk for me while I write out an email to the CEO, the CFO, and Mr. Zeller.”

I get to work as Mal sits down and starts typing. It’s a little funny watching him type as he’s clearly not good at it. Even with these ridiculously long nails, I could type circles around him. But at this point my time is best spent organizing the files, removing the ones that are no longer needed, separating the ones that directly relate to the deal and the ones that are simply background information, and finally laying them all out in sorted piles.

At some point while I’m getting my piles neat and tidy Mal gets up and exits his office. While he’s gone, I move the files I’ll be taking back to central storage to one of the side table so they’re out of the way before returning to Mal’s desk. It may only be a small thing, but I can see the files aren’t quite right. Not neat enough. Bending forward I start moving the piles and shoring them up so that they’re all even and on the same imaginary lines. The last two piles are closest to where Mal sits and I’m almost fully stretched over his desk, my body bent over the edge, my feet up off my heels and onto my toes.

I don’t hear Mal come in, so I don’t know how long he stood there admiring the view of me bent over his desk, but he clearly enjoyed it. I only notice his presence when I feel his hand land on my tush and hear his voice above me and to my rear, “My God Paris, it’s hard to believe this isn’t all really you under these clothes.”

I immediately stop fiddling with the files and start to stand up straight. My rise, however, stops as Mal’s other hand lands on the back of my neck. His voice is quite husky with obvious arousal, likely remembering that very ass sitting in his lap while I gave him his handjob, “I know it’s not real, but you’ve done a magnificent job in prosthetics. It looks, moves, and even feels real. I forget it’s not real when you’re sitting on my lap, and I’ve had plenty of real asses on my lap over the years.”

I try again to stand up, but Mal’s hand grips around my neck and he adds more strength to the hold. He’s making it very clear that this isn’t accidental or happenstance. He’s now knowingly keeping me bent over his desk. I try to keep my voice strong, but it still quivers as I try to talk him down from whatever he’s doing, “Mal, Mr. Orpheus, you shouldn’t do this. You need to EEEP!”

I’m cut off with a hard curt slap to my ass. Mal’s voice remains quiet but husky and aroused, “Kitten, don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I know what I need to do. After what you did for me, you’re owed, and I like my girls to feel respected and properly repaid. Just hush and enjoy.”

I have my head turned to my right, away from Mal standing on my left, so I can’t see the look in his eyes. But a part of me is sure he’s assessing my body as it’s laid out on his desktop. While his hand returns to my ass, I immediately regret wearing the looser skirt as it allows Mal to work his fingers between the cheeks of the faja. Between my own ass cheeks. I can’t help but grunt and shift on my toes as his fingers press my panties in and brush over my rear pucker.

With a sudden flourish, obviously getting into what he’s doing more and more, Mal uses a foot to kick my legs further apart and starts more aggressively moving his hand up and down the crack of my ass. I silently hope he’ll flip my skirt up, knowing that if he sees the faja that’s making my ass round and jiggly, and my hips and thighs so curvy it might turn him off. If I’d worn one of my tight skirts, he likely would have had to pull it up and out of the way as he couldn’t work his fingers this deep in between my cheeks otherwise, but the looser skirt allows him the access he needs.

For a few minutes I think I’ve sunk as low as I can get as Mal plays my rear like a fiddle, alternating between tickling my anus with his fingers and giving me spanks to both ass cheeks. Again, I’m left wondering if he’s just enjoying how it looks or if he knows that the feeling is being transmitted right to my real ass. That my cries and whimpers aren’t acting, they’re real responses to being manhandled and spanked.

And then Mal finds a way to make me sink lower. He keeps wandering with his hand, feeling more and more intimately. When I feel him turn his hand so that he can palm my ass, his fingers stretching further between my legs, I think he’s just lining up for another spank when I feel it. I immediately stiffen up and let out a low moan. As little as I want any of this to feel good, there is just no denying that Mal rubbing his fingertips over my pulled back penis is an exquisite shock of pleasure.

And like a teenager that’s finally found a girl’s clit, Mal seems to be overjoyed. His fingers at first freeze, probably not understanding what he’s feeling but recognizing my response. When he does get it though, his fingers start to maniacally tickle and tease over my trapped penis, drawing muffled muted noises out of me that I thought I’d never make. High pitched, hitched gasping whimpers of struggling delight and pleasure. Even in the moment I couldn’t deny just how sexy I sounded as he played me like a musical instrument.

Mal’s fingers never stop strumming me down there as he leans forward and lets go of my neck just long enough to brush my hair away from my ear. I try to take advantage of my freedom but his hand returns to my neck and pushes me back onto the desk while whispering from just an inch away, “Nah ah ah Kitten. I’ve found your magic button and I’m not going to let you go until I’ve made you feel as good as you made me feel!”

For five minutes I try to stay still and just let this happen. As little as I’m mentally aroused, there’s just no denying the physical effects of Mal’s actions. He stays hovering near my face, just out of my view, but I can smell his scent, his cologne, and feel his breathing on my cheek. I try to remain silent, but I can’t stop the little mewling moans slipping from between my plump, painted, glossy, lips. They sound just like the ones I make for Trixie.

After minutes of this, I know that Mal’s not going to stop until he makes me cum. As horrible and devastating as that will be to what little remains of my masculine self-image, it’s not as bad as being laid out on his desk and being finger fucked like any girl. The truly cruel reality sets in though when I accept my fate and not only try to let it happen but attempt to encourage it. Try to get off on Mal’s teasing fingers.

It turns out it wasn’t my will that was keeping me from getting off those first few minutes. It was everything combined working against me. My penis, though now hard, is still held uncomfortably back unnaturally by my gaff and panties. Yes, Mal’s fingers keep rubbing and strumming over the head of my cock, but he’s using far to gentle of a touch and is just barely brushing over it. He’s using the gentle touches you’d use on a woman’s over sensitized clit. This position is allowing absolutely no sensation to the shaft of my cock, leaving the feathered little touches of his fingers be my only stimulation.

It's not going to be a matter of me letting Mal get me off. I’m going to have to help. I’m going to have to actively get off on his fingers or be cursed to lie here for… hours? How long exactly would Mal do this?

Closing my eyes I try to focus on Trixie and Grace and even the models that I’ve played with before. Anything feminine and sexy and arousing, even if it enforces that I’m in that role right now with the same high pitched sexy moans. I start by using what leverage I have to rub my chest on Mal’s desk. It forces the breast forms to press their little plastic fingers onto my nipples, exciting me there. Next, hating myself for giving Mal this direct message, I start pressing back into his hand. I have barely any leverage with almost all my weight off my legs, but I still rock my hips into his hand, frantically rubbing myself up and down on his fingers when he holds them momentarily still.

I can feel the arousal beating down the humiliation and pride-crushing feelings, starting to win over but when Mal seems to notice the same, he changes his motions. He moves from frantically pleasing to teasing and denying. My moans change to frustrated cries into vocalized begging as I feel that I’m going to go mad. Mal has me ninety percent of the way to cumming but is purposefully keeping me there.

When I feel that I can’t take any more, Mal makes his last moves. Using the grip on my neck as a handle, he lifts my torso up just enough to turn me so that we’re face to face before planting my cheek back onto his desk. I immediately recognize the maniacal glee in his eyes as I’ve seen it in my own reflection when I’ve played at a woman’s pleasure before. That rush is enough to make you feel like a God, and now I know what it feels like on the other side… where I’ll worship at that God if he’ll just let me cum.

Letting go of my neck Mal simply mouths the word ‘Stay’ which locks my cheek onto his desk. Anything. At this point I’d do anything if he’d just finish me off. When Mal presses his index and middle finger to my lips, I eagerly open them and let him slide in. He doesn’t have to ask as I know what he wants to see, so I just wrap my plumped pink glossy lips around his fingers and start sucking. My mouth being full of his fingers, sliding in and out lewdly, does nothing to stop my moans. Instead, it just muffles them, adding another layer to their erotic sexiness.

Finally, proving that he could have gotten me off whenever he wanted, Mal works his magic. His fingers move to rub more of me. He rubs more forcefully and more gracefully. More magically. As he whispers, “Go ahead Kitten. You can cum now.” I’m honestly not sure if my body was waiting for his permission or if he just timed his command to when I naturally popped off.

Regardless, I orgasmed by my boss’s hand. My screams and cries and shouts of ecstasy barely muted by his fingers still deep in my mouth.