26. FARROW
twenty-six
I observed my secretary with two of his hivelings from behind my office door, open just a crack to allow me to remain undetected while I watched them.
“The fuck’re you doing, Farrow?” the cretin of a manservant asked from one of my armchairs. He’d propped his booted feet on my coffee table as he lounged there like the scoundrel he was.
“Shush. I’m watching the secretary and the hive.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Language,” I said automatically, not meaning to. I had no issue with blasphemy, but my parentage had drilled the avoidance into me, something Conrad loved to exploit in order to annoy me.
“It’s language all right. What, are those two fucking in the corridor?”
I made the most dismissive sound I could muster. “Of course not. I hired a human who knows how to behave. He’s mild-mannered and does whatever task I set him to, unlike other people I could name.”
A dark chuckle filled the room, and Conrad stood. I hardly needed to turn to know how he looked, moving toward me, all swagger and long legs, the scar on his lip stretched to paleness as he watched me like a tiger might a fawn.
“You want to call me out on misbehaving when it’s you who has the stick up his ass?” he whispered, his lips close to my ear though never touching. “Wait. I’m taking that back. You don’t have anything up there, which is entirely the problem, isn’t it? Is that why you’re watching those two vanilla idiots?”
“There are two hivelings out there with him. Your arithmetic is failing you. We have classes for that.”
He exhaled, his face still so close to my ear that I heard the whooshing of his breath.
“If you’re so good at counting, Farrow, how about I bend you over my leg and slap that little ass of yours while you count the hits, hmm?”
I carefully closed the door though I didn’t flip the lock. “You are the most base creature I have known in all my years. My blood in your veins is wasted, you little—”
His big hand came down on my butt, hitting right in the center so that I clenched.
“Right. You keep yapping, Farr. You can run your mouth all while I’m slapping this beautiful ass of yours raw, and then you can keep on drooling your vitriol while I plug that hole and spill inside you. How’s that sound, you highborn piece of trash?”
“How dare you? How dare you insult me like that, after everything I’ve done for you and—”
Conrad had excellent hands. They were strong, dexterous, and he’d taken much care to keep them clean and smooth, though when we had still been human, they had been rougher than my own.
Using those strong hands, he squeezed my behind, forcing me to clamp my mouth shut lest I scream out and alert the newest member of staff to Conrad’s escapades.
“That’s right. Someone hints you might be getting it good, you shut right up and stretch out your tight little ass. Lean against the door. I don’t want to have to look at your face during this.”
“You insolent fool. Or no, are you afraid to see my superior breeding when you look upon my countenance? You may bow, Conrad, and kiss the ground I walk on. Take your paw off me.”
He snickered. “Fuck no. Your ass is mine now. I’ll cum so deep in there that your belly will bulge with it.”
“Hah! As if you had the skill! People like you are nothing more than handsome stallions in rut. You don’t know what to do with that cock of yours unless you find a master who can show you the way.”
“Right.”
He pushed me against the door and kicked my legs apart with his sodden boots. Those really were ugly, though not as bad as those flip-flops he had taken to wearing at home to extinguish the last fiber of patience and rational thought his constant disrespect had left me with. It had made me be late several times already this summer, and I regretted none of the tardiness whatsoever.
“Unhand me,” I said when he worked open my belt and trousers, those hands of his too quick and smart.
“Don’t wanna.” He pulled down my trousers just far enough that he could rub against me—which he didn’t do. His palm came down hard and fast, the slap of skin on skin loud in my otherwise quiet office.
“Ow!”
“This is what you get for being a potty mouth wrapped in a silk tie, sweetie.” He slapped me once more, and then a third time. “Quiet. Your secretary might hear. That hive could break down this door, so keep your mouth shut.”
“Remove your hand!”
“Nah. Not yet.”
I endured for the next few minutes as Conrad punished me, apparently enjoying this unfair treatment when it was he who deserved the reprimand, so much more forceful than this. My teeth, too sharp for this kind of thing, broke the skin of my lips as I clamped them shut, and when Conrad inevitably smelled the blood, he stopped his ministrations, pulled my head back by my hair.
“Remove your ruffian hands from my hair!”
“Don’t tell me what to do and open wide.”
“Not for the likes of y—”
Conrad, ever faster than I gave him credit for, pushed his first two fingers in my mouth to prop it open after which he licked the tiny cuts I’d made, my tormented behind exposed to the cool air and forgotten like the mummies in Egypt’s desert.
He tasted exquisite as ever, a treat I readily enjoyed, a treat I knew how to improve.
“Ah! Fuck, you biting me now?” he asked. I’d dug my teeth into his fingers, just fair, the minimum of what he deserved. It gave me a stronger taste of him, filling my mouth and overwhelming my senses for moments.
“Aah…”
“Fine. Lap it up, Farr. Don’t you dare spill my blood.”
He let me have my way, although I really wasn’t interested in biting and drinking. It was when he pulled his fingers free and pushed his knee between my legs that I realized my slight miscalculation.
Conrad shoved his spit-slick fingers that were streaked with his own blood between my cheeks and pushed right into me with those mangled digits that had surely healed by now.
“No, do not continue this. This is your final warning, Conrad. Unhand me, and I might yet forgive this misbehavior.”
I shivered, my fingertips pressing against the door. Conrad knew my hole too well, could find all the places inside that brought too much pleasure to the senses. He had not taken very long at all to map these hidden parts of me, and more often than not, I felt at a disadvantage in the face of his navigator skills. It was something I enjoyed.
“I know you prefer lube over spit, and this really isn’t all that much to get you slick, but I’ve been thinking about making you take me dry, sweetie. Let’s call this a compromise, okay?”
“You jest. There is no part of this that I-I agree to, that I allow. Withdraw and beg for my mercy.”
My voice petered out into a low keening. Conrad wouldn’t keep his fingers still.
“Mercy? That so? You know what I think? I think you’re a rich little vampire with a filthy mind, and in your filthy mind, you imagine this kind of thing all day long, and when you get bored, you remember how to use your phone and call me over to fuck you so hard you forget your station in life for the duration of the orgasm. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Of course you’re wrong, you bag of cow piss!”
“Oh? Why’d anyone want to put cow’s piss in a bag, huh?”
“Shut your mouth and do what you are here to do.”
He chuckled. “What, calling me your booty call now?”
“A proper booty call would be a thousand times better than this. I detest you.”
“Sounds like you’re about ready to take cock.”
He pulled his fingers free, my hole and channel barely slick, but his mind was set on taking me in this manner, and short of ending the encounter prematurely and without satisfaction, there was nothing I could do about it. My spine tingled with anticipation.
“I’m warning you, you gutter scum! Step back right this moment.”
Like a shiver running over my mind, Conrad’s zipper opened, and I heard the rustling of fabric momentarily before I felt his member rigid and ready to fill me.
“Time for a lesson in humility, you little highborn prick.”
He pushed inside, the burn of it forcing my concentration to the extreme. The intrusion filled me nearly to the brim within moments, and Conrad, ever greedy, didn’t care to wait before he started to pound in and out of me, the rhythm he set punishing. This vigor, this devotion, it was a corner piece of the picture of my love for him.
The foresight I’d had in making sure there was nothing on my afternoon schedule before calling him here was a relief. The thought of sitting through a staff meeting after being penetrated was so not appealing.
“You insolent little prick,” I managed, my fingers aching to grab myself, an impossibility with the way Conrad was taking me, something he allowed only rarely anyways.
“Call me sweet nothings, Farr. Do you have any idea how good your hole looks, stretched around my cock?”
“You lie!”
He stopped his obscene pace, pushing deep into me so that our hips were snug, so that he could lick my ear before whispering, “I’m not lying. You’re all pink around me. Kind of loose though, like a rubber band that’s been stretched a little too much. Makes me wonder what you’re doing in this office of yours all day.”
An unbefitting whimper escaped me, my control faltering. “No…”
“Hmm? That good, huh? Tell me you love me, Farr.”
“I loathe you,” I managed, but my voice was a wafer in a priest’s maw, breaking under the weight of sinner’s breath.
He reached around me, squeezed my own cock in those hands of his, too tight to allow for immediate release, so tight it hurt in the best of ways.
“You’re my master, so if you loathe me, I’ll take it as command to do loathsome things.”
I clamped my mouth shut when he resumed moving in and out of me, the sounds our bodies made lewd and luscious. My struggles for composure were in vain, and soon my legs trembled with the sole effort of standing.
“C-C-Con—I…ah!”
He groaned into my ear as he cummed deep inside me, one hand digging fingers into my hip so hard I would be marked, the other still preventing my own release, the desperate need setting my every fiber on fire.
He brushed his head against mine, tenderness when I was still on fire in the metaphorical sense, twitching around his wilting cock that had wet my insides with his juices.
“You feel so good. You feel as good as the first time we did this,” he whispered, some of the edge gone from his voice, not enough, of course, that he would stop holding me back.
“Y-you never—I would never, with someone as base as you.”
His amused breath flooded the shell of my ear. “Right. Right, I forget about how stubborn you can be, sweetie. Do you want to cum, hmm?”
“How dare you?” I managed, just barely as my legs were threatening to collapse underneath me the moment he pulled out of me.
“You sound like a kitten dunked in cold water and dressed in silken finery. Admit you want to cum, or I won’t let you.”
I squirmed. This threat was not an empty one, I knew that well, having tested it before. He might prevent my release if the next words I said were the wrong ones, and since Conrad was a man who could hold a grudge, mayhap he would carry on this way later tonight when I got home, would torture me while taking his own pleasure and never admitting mine.
Whichever way I looked at it, the calculus wasn’t in my favor.
I let out a long, hitching breath. “I want to cum.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have to manage with your tight little ass all filled up, Farr, and you’re going to have to do it in your pants.”
“W-whatever…you dare?”
“I sure do.” He reached underneath my jacket, finding my kerchief, given he had put it there earlier this morning, and used it to wipe himself when he pulled out of me, excruciatingly slow. “Keep it in. I want to see your hole clench shut, or you’re not cumming today.”
I ground my teeth, swearing that I’d have vengeance, knowing vengeance would work out about as well as running away to eat pilgrims and clear my mind of wanting him had.
“You are my servant, and yet you demand,” I said, my voice a whisper and no more.
“It’s almost out, Farr. Get ready to do as you’re told.”
Oh, he was despicable. The worst. He was a fiend, and the scar on his lip, it marked him as such.
And yet, I did as he’d bid me, out of desperation and nothing more.
“What a good little lordling you are,” he said before finally letting go of my straining cock.
I breathed out, the relief not quite enough to give me release, but before my mind cleared of it, Conrad had pulled my breeches and trousers back up, had put me in order if not for how he had used me, if not for the outline of my arousal underneath the fabric.
“This—this—”
“This is how you’re going to cum. And no cleaning yourself up after.”
He remained standing behind me but pulled me back against him with a hand that snaked around my neck and steered me by my chin. Like that, he pinned me, and with his other hand, he started touching, first through the fabric, but soon after, he pushed into my trousers.
“Your hand is too rough, stop this,” I said, even as he rubbed a string of drool that had escaped me all over my lips.
“You can cum now, sweetie. You have my permission to cum, oh highborn master mine.”
It was a mark of sweetest shame to know I did as soon as the words left his mouth. My body was too used to him and his lovely ruffian ways, his simple, street-smart ways, and the ease with which he made use of my weakness should not have been permitted any man.
But Conrad, my Conrad, was not just any man.
“Shit,” he said, crude as ever. “Looks like you’re in the zone here.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t think I’ll carry you around like this whenever you fucking please. Hey, I’m sitting you down in your chair, and if anyone asks, tell them your ‘computer machine’ put a spell on you or whatever.”
“Computer machine, hah. My secretary made one of the evil clicky boxes go away.”
He snorted. “Bet that creepy IT thing was delighted it didn’t have to come out into the light.”
“Cretin. Don’t insult my staff.”
“They like being creepy, and they asked me if I was staff, student, or food.”
“Whatcha tell them?” I asked, the embarrassment of my slurring grand, but not grand enough to have much of an effect on my overall mood and the satisfaction that settled throughout my well-used body.
“Told them I wasn’t any of those things but the one eating the principal.”
“Headmaster.”
“You’re a fucking villain in Armani, sweetie. Now shut up and try to look like you work here.”
It was something of a task but made much easier when Conrad took a moment to retie my cravat and make sure my hair wasn’t in total disarray. Ah, I loved him fussing almost as much as him making love to me and rushing to my side whenever I called.