Paid For(7)By: Alexa Riley
“Right, let’s go over some rules. You’ll eat three times a day, at minimum. I want to make sure you’re getting enough, so I will need to monitor your food intake. You’ll eat in front of me at each meal.”
She nods nervously and twists her fingers together.
“Next, your job includes a wardrobe allowance, so today, after I watch you eat lunch, I’ll take you to pick some things out.”
Again her cheeks color, but she agrees. “Yes, Mr. Foster.”
“You can call me Mason when the office door is closed. Or Sir.”
Her dark eyes come to mine, and I feel the heat flow between us. She’s thinking about yesterday, and I am, too. I’m ready to bend her over and get my dick wet, but she needs to eat first.
“Your things will be moved to my building today. After yesterday, I decided I will need you throughout the night.”
I watch as her feet move a centimeter and her thighs press together. I know she’s wet; I can almost smell her cunt from here.
“Kennedy?” I ask, wanting her agreement.
My name sounds like caramel on her tongue, and I want her to lick my balls as she says it. The thought has me tenting the front of my slacks obscenely, and I don’t bother to adjust it. Her eyes roam down my suit to where my arousal is showing, and for a second her eyes widen. She looks away quickly, as if to hide that she noticed, and the shy act both irritates and turns me on. It makes me mad because I think about her doing this with other men. Has she done it before? Pretended to be innocent and played a part? But then it also turns me on, because as much as she may be pretending to be innocent, I know she’s mine. And she’s been hired to fulfill all my needs.
Before I can say another word, there’s a knock on the door. “That will be breakfast. Get the door, Kennedy.”
I make my way around my desk and sit down to hide my cock. No sense in letting the staff know I’m about to explode in my pants.
A young guy wheels in the large tray stacked high with covered dishes. He pushes it over to the table I have in my office and starts to move the dishes over.
“Leave it,” I say, holding up a hand. He pauses and sets the plate back down on the tray and nods at me.
“Yes, Mr. Foster.”
He glances over at Kennedy, and for a second I want to rip his eyes out. But he only gives her a polite smile before exiting my office and closing the door behind him.
“Okay, Kennedy,” I begin as I lean back in my chair. “I want you to hike that skirt up, then sit down. Spread your thighs and show me your pussy while you eat.”
Her mouth falls open a little, but she composes herself quickly. The pink staining her face, however, can’t be hidden. God, she’s fucking good at innocence. I didn’t know one could fake a blush.
Her hands tremble a little as she pulls the way-too-tight skirt over her thighs and hips. She wiggles as she does it, and her tits shake. It gives me more ideas.
“Unbutton the blouse, too. I want to see your nipples.”
I watch her every move as she steps over to the chair and sits down.
“Spread them,” I growl, hating the anticipation.
She spreads her legs, and I see her panties. Irritation hits me.
“I said I wanted to see your cunt. Don’t you hide it from me.”
Quickly, Kennedy stands up and removes the white cotton. I notice her breathing picks up.
“Bring them to me,” I say, holding my hand out. She steps slowly in front of me, gently placing the soft material in my hand. “Good girl.”
I reach over and pat her on the bottom as she turns and walks back to the chair. She sits the same way as before, her legs spread wide and her wet pussy on display. She likes this. Being told what to do is turning her on. Her pussy can’t hide that. Even if she is being paid to be here, she still wants this. Her fingers go to the buttons of her shirt, but she fumbles with them.
Standing up, I let out a sigh and step in front of her. “Do I have to do everything, Kennedy? You should be getting the easy tasks on the first try. Don’t make me regret hiring you,” I lie. I’d die before I ever regretted this.
“Yes, Mason. I’ll do better. The buttons are too tight.”
I grip the material with both hands and rip it open. She gasps in shock. “That’s called problem-solving, sweetie. Now unhook your bra.”
She reaches down, her little hands shaking a little, and unclasps the hook easily enough. I sit down at the table with her, but still keep a perfect view of her body. She pulls the material away and her fat tits fall out, revealing pretty, pink nipples.
“So hard,” I muse as I reach out and run my thumb across one hard peak.