Jan. Week 4: Tuesday morning--Leah gives Mr. Howard a blowjob during her planning...

Leah dropped to her knees with the smooth precision of rehearsed moves—her body learned its choreographed flames: steady breath, empty mind. She felt the cold shine of his shoes, the deliberate click of his belt, the raw heat of inevitability. When he freed himself, she fixed her focus on the patterns of the ceiling tiles—an explosion of geometric shapes—while her mouth did as it had been trained.

Leah hesitated only a second, then moved to kneel in front of him as she sat behind his desk. She saw his shoes first—polished to a mirror shine—then the deliberate way he shifted back and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the clasp opening was impossibly loud in the small room. The zipper followed.

She braced herself for disgust, for the bone-deep sense of humiliation, but it was never as simple as that. She’d spent so much time, it seemed, on her knees in this office that her body had learned the routine: breathe through her nose, ignore the urge to gag, don’t think, don’t feel. She pulled his cock out—already half-hard, throbbing with anticipation—and ran her tongue lightly up the shaft, as he liked. He let out a small gasp, then gripped the edge of the desk, watching her with cool, merciless intensity.

“Eyes up,” he commanded.

She looked him in the face—his steely gray eyes, the lines at his mouth deepening with satisfaction. She put spit on her hand and stroked him as she looked up at him.

Leah took him into her mouth, letting him slide over her tongue, then bobbed her head in short, practiced strokes. Her lipstick threatened to leave marks along his shaft but she didn't care--he certainly didn't. Her mouth danced up and down pleasuring him with practiced ease.

“God... definitely the best way to start the week back...” he murmured, caressing the top of her head like she was a favorite pet.