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Shorting the Heart Ch. 02

Warning: Contains themes of coerced sex and racially insensitive language. And probably some typos. silkcita

*****

Standing at his office window, Manny Tisdale stared out at the vehicles parked in front of the adjacent buildings beneath the bright morning sun. The sky was blue and the Arizona air was dry, and yet the stockbroker's jaws were clenched murderously tight as he seethed beneath darkening shadows.

He'd been played. Again.

"Those little Latinas played me like a goddamn sucka," he muttered as their imagined, sexy voices mocked him. That gringo so stupid! He'll do anything for a phat culo.

Having spent most of his formative years preparing for his chosen career, these fictitious utterances held some truth, as the thirty-year-old's internship in romance didn't begin until his twenties, where savvy, unscrupulous women made easy acquisitions of both his heart and wallet. It was only in the past couple of years that the young professional restructured his approach to the fairer sex, implementing safeguards to protect his emotional and financial health against conniving, no-good, cheating bitches, vowing to be goddamned before being played again like a sucka.

But over the past weekend, Rosa's mother, using her phat Spanish culo as a distraction, gave a persuasive oral argument on behalf of her daughter. She a good woman, Mr. Tisdale. She young, pretty. She perfect for handsome businessman like you. Slack-jawed, Manny gave an incoherent reply to the back of the milf's bobbing head. (Her normally adroit hands had spilled beer onto his crouch, rendering his shorts and everything underneath in need of cleaning.) Manny agreed to see Rosa that following Monday morning, while his Latina maid licked the Bud Light from his balls.

It was now Monday morning, 8:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before Rosa's scheduled arrival. Whereupon, according to her mother, she would be ready to work for him... very hard.

"Oh, she gonna work," the finance specialist declared, returning to his desk. He glanced out of the window on his right, where sunlight lanced the blinds with bright bars across his desk. "Taking my money and laughing behind my back," he fumed, biting his lip. "Just like those females on food stamps—gaming the system."

The realization that he'd been duped hardened the stockbroker's heart. Despite his inappropriate motives, he had been up front and fair—better even—paying the illegal immigrant the going rate of a qualified secretary, plus a $200 dollar signing bonus—all tax free.

And still she lied to him, played him, made him look like a goddamn sucka.

No more, and never again.

Sitting behind his desk, Manny fired up his laptop, his face set with firm resolve. No more being polite, no more 'sucka' shit. If those two Latinas wanted his money, then he would make sure they earned it, bending them over his desk and sink, respectively. And if they didn't like it, then, they could kick rocks. Because he'd be goddamned before he got played again.

Taking a deep breath, he distracted himself with work, and began perusing the tickers on MSN Money. Textiles and steel were flat, while gold crept northward on a slow, wiggly line. Housing, however, was still booming. These subprime loans are selling like pop icicles in the dead of June.

Then came a knock at the front door, and the proud finance broker shoot up from his chair, his heart booming beneath his business shirt and tie. He hurried out of his office and glanced at his watch, his expensive Italian shoes clacking across the lobby floor in quick strides. It was 8:51 a.m. She was early. He reached the door then smoothed down his tie and his hair before twisting the faded gold knob, pulling the door open...

He stared longer than he wanted. There she was, standing in front of him, bathed in the bright, golden light of the sun. Her obsidian hair glowed with an iridescent shine, absorbing the sunlight like a simmering black hole. Thick, space-black locks fell long and full down her back, while two swirly bangs framed her oval face. Her makeup, though light in presence, exploited every indigenous feature on her exotic face—mascara, thick lashes, berry-colored lips. Dressed in a blouse/skirt combo that clung to every curve of her voluptuous physique, she could've doubled as a Mexican politician's secretary... and/or his mistress.

Seeing this, Manny hardened his jaw. This was the first time she'd put this kind of effort in her appearance. "Can I help you?" His icy tone making her hugged herself, despite the eighty-degree weather.

Holding a well-loved purse in hand, the young Latina appeared expectant of the frosty reception and looked at him contritely while gathering her nerve. "Mr. Tisdale, I'm ready to... work," she said softly, the South American accent adding deference to her humble words.

Pleased by the young woman's suppliant demeanor, but not yet mollified, the well-dressed stockbroker gave her a pointed look. "And why should I believe you, Ms. Martinez, after I spent a week watching you do the opposite. A week's worth of my time and money—wasted," he snapped, suddenly incensed, recalling how she played him.

"You knew full damn well what I wanted when I hired you," he gritted viciously through his teeth. "But your lying ass didn't want a job—just a goddamn hand-out."

He gave a wry chuckle and slowly shook his head with insight. "In finance, there's a thing called the sunk-loss fallacy, where a person would rather keep dumping money into a dead investment rather than cutting it loose." Manny folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. "Why should I spend another dollar on you when I could ride down to your apartment complex and hire someone else? I'd bet your paycheck that it wouldn't be hard to find a replacement."

A shadow of fear passed over Rosa's face. With the job market already flooded with unskilled labor, competition among young immigrant women was fierce—a cold, hard fact that wasn't limited to the workplace and one the young single mother was intimately aware, as her dark eyes glistened with unspent tears. "You're right," she softly admitted, averting her gaze downward. "... Most work six days a week for less than what you were paying me. Working for you would be like a vacation."

Manny nodded. That had been his guess. "Looks like I hired the wrong one."

Rosa sighed, clenching her jaw. "I was stupid," she said, admonishing herself. "But I need this job, Mr. Tisdale." She looked up to him earnestly, meeting his eyes briefly before turning her eyes down again. Standing small and desperate at his door, the young immigrant woman looked to be at the edge of her rope. "... Please. I'll do whatever you want..."

Looking down at her slumped and defeated shoulders, Manny heard the sincerity in her voice, it was clear she'd meant every word, but it was her vulnerability that affected him most. She was in dire straits, willing to do anything to get her job back.

Grabbing her elbow, he pulled her inside and closed the door, pressing her back against it, while his tall, athletic frame towered over her. He grabbed her by the chin and she breathed sharply but didn't resist, staring up at him despairingly.

The depressing look of resignation on the Latina's face softened the stockbroker, and released her jaw, slipping his hand into his pocket. "Rosa, I want you to really think this through," he urged her gently. "If I take you back, you'd be like my personal whore, sucking and fucking my whenever I told you. Understand?"

Manny leaned closer, his expression severe. "And if you pull any of that shit from last week—I promise, on everything I love—I'll make you regret it," he said with grim resolve. "So if you want to turn around and walk out my door, now's the time. But if you stay, and if you quit without my say so, or be anything other than my obedient slut, I strongly suggest you have your green card handy. Understand?" He watched the Latina's face fall. Manny nodded, leaning back straight and sliding his hands into his pocket. "So you still wanna a job?" Checking his watch, the stockbroker clucked his tongue, not caring either way.

Blinking once, then twice, Rosa dabbed the corners of her eye and was incapable of meeting his gaze, as she held her purse tightly at her waist. Their Arrangement had become an all of nothing proposition: she would do whatever he said or risk being reported to immigration. Looking down at her purse, she looked to be in shock, and with a weak and quivering voice, she asked, "... I only have to be with you?"

Manny understood her trepidation, but she desperately needed his help, while he didn't owe her anything. She could either agree or fend for herself. It was that simple. He huffed. "Yep, just me."

She dabbed the corner of her eyes again and sniffled, then opened her mouth to speak only to hesitate.

Manny's patience ran out. He glanced down at his watch with a huff. "Female, you need to hurry up and make a decision. I've already wasted money on you, and I'll be goddamned if I waste anymore of my time."

The Latina hugged herself to keep from shaking. It was obvious something was on the edge of her lips, something she desperately wanted to say but afraid to speak aloud, as if it would shred the last thread of her dignity. And just as Manny was about to tell her to go, she gave in, drooping her neck and shoulders with a desolate sigh. "... Before... last week... you said I could call you, if I needed," she said with a soft, weak voice.

"You burnt that shit," Manny said immediately. "You can have your baby daddy, or whoever you were fucking instead of me, fix your flat tires and water leaks or whatever."

The Latina's body shrunk at the mention of her child's father. She wiped her eyes. "He left us four months ago. He... went to California with some girl." Rosa paused, lifting her dark, teary eyes to his. "It's just the three of us," she pleaded, her accent soft. "We're barely getting by..." She swallowed, looking down at her worn purse. The corner of her eye was darkened with smudged mascara and she couldn't hold his gaze, the humiliation of whoring herself at war with the overwhelming concern for her family.

She was a tough chick, with more burdens than options. Manny saw it in the dark features of her face as he lifted it. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to hold his gaze. He saw the insecurities and worries she hid from her family—from her dismal job prospects to being abandoned by her first love. He saw a resilient twenty-eight-year-old single mother approaching the edge of her breaking point.

But she was beautiful—a Latina with a big soft ass—and she'd played him, something he swore he would never allow again. And seeing her so desperate and vulnerable incited a primal instinct to capitalize on the situation. To own her.

Manny folded his arms, refusing to let her big dark eyes sway him. "Your personal business ain't my business, Ms. Martinez," he said with a stern but not unkind tone. "You forfeited that little perk last week when you played me." But he could appreciate the single mother's need for someone to call in an emergency—along with the fact that she'd thrown that away.

Rosa cast her sad gaze downward in regret. Fidgeting with her purse, the Latina looked up from under her lashes with pleading, glossy, onyx-colored eyes.

Manny bit his lip, forcing himself to remain firm. "I'll consider it," he said finally, his voice little softer. Then quickly added, "But after I get my money's worth for those two weeks." His tone left little doubt of his seriousness. "We'll call it your Probationary Period. Now, are you going to be my little Spanish slut?" he mocked, recalling her outburst from last week, "Or not."

Her back literally against the wall, the Latina swallowed uncomfortably, and with a determined face, she looked into his eyes and nodded meekly.

"Say it," Manny demanded, grasping her by her chin. He pressed her against the door. "Just so we're clear on what I'm paying you for—our Arrangement."

Looking up into his eyes with a mixture of desperation and surrender, the dark-haired immigrant said, "I'll be your little Spanish slut, Mr. Tisdale."

Manny studied the Latina's face as she looked up to him with a defeated and resigned expression that said whatever sexual desires he demanded, whatever he wanted, she would comply.

"From nine to four you're mine," he declared definitively, angling her face up to his. "You do what I say, when I say, without any hesitation."

She nodded and Manny looked down at her breasts beneath the thin blouse. He took her purse from her and tossed it onto the couch then squeezed her breasts, the soft caramel globes more than filling his hands. She gave not the slightest show of resistance, leaving her hands impotently at her sides while he groped her roughly.

When Manny tilted her head up and looked down into her dark eyes, her beauty and vulnerability did wicked things to his already immoral desires. "You ready to work, slut?"

With a look of fatalistic acceptance, the immigrant woman nodded. "Yes sir."

"Strip to your panties." He stepped to her side as she began unclasping her blouse with shaky hands.

Watching her fidgeting with a button, he grabbed her waist and delivered a biting slap to her curvy backside. The young Latina gave a startled yelp.

"Hurry up," he spat, giving her another smack for good measure. "You're on the clock."

With trembling hands she pulled her blouse from her shoulders, revealing soft caramel skin, before hastily tossing the red top across her purse. Her bra followed soon after. Manny stood behind her, admiring the young woman's toned back as she stepped out of her skirt and sat it with her other clothes.

Manny bent her over the arm of the couch, laying a solid smack on her red, panty-clad ass. "From nine to four, this big Spanish ass is mine," he declared, punctuating it with another slap then squeezing the firm mound. "You understand that, Ms. Martinez?"

"Yes sir," the she answered, her elbows planted on the couch's stiff arm. "I understand."

"Good." Grabbing her by the hips, Manny pressed his erection in the cleft of her butt, fisting her panties until it sat between the peanut-colored cheeks like a tong. Then he pulled them down to her ankles, where she awkwardly stepped clear of them, her supple, heart-shaped ass jiggling pleasingly in his face.

Barely able to contain his excitement, Manny turned her around to face him. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath her downcast, docile eyes while she shyly covered her furry mound.

For a moment he just stared at her naked body, taking in her nubile form, squeezing himself. With her womanly, hourglass figure—not to mention her beautiful exotic face, jet-black hair, and light, caramel brown complexion—she could probably have any man she wanted; but instead, this sexy Latina was standing in his office, naked, ready to do whatever he wanted.

His traced the side of her body with his fingertips—the wide flare of her hips, her narrow waist, the soft supple skin over her ribcage. He cupped her left breast, noting a chocolate mole just right of her light-brown areola. He leaned down and took it into his mouth. Grasping his forearms, the young Latina stifled a whimper at the stimulation, and leaned back against the door.

He suckled her tit until the nipple was stiff and rubbery between his teeth. Then he stood upright. "Time for your orientation," he said, looking down into her flushed face. "Make sure you understand your secretarial duties."

Manny hastily lead the naked Latina into his office, and after taking a seat behind his desk, had her kneel down on the carpet between his legs. A moment later her mouth was securely around his erection, her head bobbing in his lap.

"Fuck, you can suck a dick," he breathed, guiding her head as he leaned over and slapped her booty, eliciting a startled hmpf from the kneeling Latina. "You better get used to that," he advised, slapping her ass again. "And being on your knees." He sat straight, watching as she suckled his head with earnest while her latte-toned hands stroked his chocolate shaft. "You hear me, slut?"

The Latina raised her lips just high enough to answer. "Yes sir." Then took him back into her mouth, never opening her eyes.

Taking his dick from her, Manny fisted the back of Rosa head then rubbed the glistening tip across her lips and cheek. "Look at me, slut," he hissed, his chocolate-colored manhood smearing slimy globs across the Latina's peanut butter-colored face.

Dutifully opening her round black eyes, she looked up to him submissively.

Manny's dick throbbed as he held it to her lips and commanded her to open her mouth. Rosa complied, holding out her tongue as he slapped it with his dick. The sight aroused him to no end and his breath quickened. "You pretty bitch. You see how hard I am? This is your job," he panted, slapping her mouth. "Taking care of my dick."

Then he forced the Latina to suckle his dick, effectively jerking himself with her mouth. For several seconds he bobbed her head on his manhood in sheer bliss, the warmth and slickness of her mouth making him tingle with pleasure as she yielded her neck to his slow and steady control, looking up to him obediently.

"That's it," Manny hissed, feeling the Latina's tongue massage his glands, "suck it like you wanna keep your job."

The Latina nodded mutely, suckling him, her soft-slick hands taking over when he let go, working the length of his veiny shaft with excruciatingly slow jerks, causing him to shutter in erotic ecstasy. She seemed to sense the sweet torture, and his throbbing was so intense Manny felt himself pulsing within grasp.

With half lidded eyes, he grasped her face between his hands. "I own this mouth. Say it."

The immigrant meekly obeyed, slipping her lips free. "You own my mouth."

Manny swallowed thickly with a slow blink, reveling in this open submission. Having the dark-haired beauty surrender to him made his dick throb with sensitivity, as the miniscule winkles on the Latina's fleshy lips tickled the veins on the underside of his manhood.

"Fuck," he whispered, as he gratified himself with the immigrant's beautiful face, "I love watching you suck my dick." Manny bobbed her face on his dick, mesmerized by the sight of her luscious lips traveling up and down his head while she squeezed and massaged his tender glands.

She stared up at him, her dark eyes burnished with submissiveness as his breathing grew heavier. He'd never been so aroused and felt a tightening his groin like a spring.

But not wanting to go another hour without sampling the Latina's sex, he withdrew from her mouth. "Bend over the desk."

Rosa rose to her feet, sluggishly, slight apprehension showing on her face as Manny rolled his chair back and stood. He watched the Latina moved slowly in position, her heels shuffling to the center of the darken space beneath the desk. She bent forward, sweeping her hair over her right shoulder.

"I'm liking you bent over my desk, Ms. Martinez," Manny said leering at the Latina's sculpted round ass. "It's a good position for your job title." Then he walked up behind her and spanked her. "But move that slow again and I'll dock your pay. You understand?"

Her head hanging dolefully between slumped shoulder blades, she answered softly, "Yes sir."

Taking a moment to enjoy the view, Manny swept back the starched tails of his shirt, noting amusingly how his erection leaned over the Latina's booty like a chocolate Tower of Pisa. She was lying down the center of his desk, between his monitors and laptop, when he grasped her hips and rubbed himself against her slit.
She tensed, her back rising and falling with her quickened breath. Still holding a grudge against her past dishonesty, Manny entered her with little concern, and her hand muffled the resulting cry.

"Goddam your pussy's tight," he groaned, pushing slowly, the pleasure of her sex weighing his eyes as he forced her sex to accommodate his size.

Through hooded eyes he watched the back of her dark-haired head tense then hang to the desk. He didn't know if it was due to pleasure or pain or both. But she was impossibly tight around him, a drip-thin tunnel of heat and wetness.

Gripping the ample sides of her ass, he began to gratify himself with her body. "Fuck, you feel good around my dick," he hissed with a deep thrust, forcing the Latina's young body to yield to him. "It's just as proficient as your mouth," he jeered, slapping her harshly across the ass.

Beneath him, Rosa was biting down on her bottom lip, holding on to the other side of the desk while he pumped frantically behind her.

Then he leaned down over her back, cupping her breast in his left hand and fisting her silky South American hair in the other. He gripped both firmly, arcing her head to the ceiling. Whimpering, the dark-haired beauty's face was rife with discomfort, her eyes clenched shut.

Rolling her nipple between his fingers, Manny said, "Show me see those sexy Spanish eyes." The dark-haired beauty forced her eyes open to slits, the top row of her teeth pinching her plush bottom lip. Manny grinded himself against her tender walls, eliciting a silent gasp from the Latina as her big ass cushioned his pelvis. "You still want to be my Spanish slut?"

Staring into his eyes, Rosa nodded, answering with a strained, quiet voice, "Yes sir."

Manny rolled his pelvis before delivering a deep thrust that took the Latina's breath away, making her wince. Now seeing her discomfort, Manny quickly withdrew halfway. "See, if this was two weeks ago, I would've stopped and just let you suck my dick. But your lying-ass had to go and play me like a goddamn sucka," he bit out, his erection pulsing with rage.

Rosa, her bottom lip now untucked, swallowed, her dark eyes holding his gaze. She said softly, "I'm sorry."

Manny began thrusting again—though not as deep—firmly fisting her hair. "Wasn't too sorry to take my money," he snapped, and rolled her nipple between his fingers, eliciting an unbridled mewl from the Latina—the look on her face sending a wave of pleasure through his loins, and in a moment of overwhelming lust, he thrust deep inside her body.

Rosa grimaced in silence as Manny lost himself within her sex. He stood upright, continuing the onslaught, watching with amusement as backside bounce and jiggle.

"I'm glad you played me," he said, slapping her ass. "It'll keep things professional between us," he said delivering a deep stroke with a twist of his hips. Seeing the Latina lay her head on the desk and cover her mouth, he said, "And what's your job again, Ms. Martinez?"

Through tight, disjointed breaths, she answered, "Manny Tisdale's... little... Spanish... slut."

"In training," he added, pumping her still. "You got two weeks to convince me that you can do the job. If not, I'll do exactly what I said. You remember?"

The back of her silk head nodded. "Yes sir, Mr. Tisdale."

"Good." Feeling his release approaching, Manny squeezed the Latina's big ass and raced it to his finish, each furious thrust sending shock waves through her caramel flesh.

"You on the pill?"

Without moving her head, Rosa said, "No sir."

"Then I'm coming in your mouth, so be ready."

"Yes sir."

After several frantic thrusts he withdrew. Rosa quickly turned and dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth. Manny held her head, stroking his slick dick as waves of pleasure ripped through his groin. With a grunt, he spurted hotly into the immigrant's mouth while she looked up in quiet submission.

Jerking the final load into her mouth, Manny bobbed her mouth back and forth over his swollen head. "There's the sexy Latina slut I wanted," he panted as she milked him try. "Keep that up and maybe you'll keep your job this time." He rubbed himself across her plump lips. "Understand?" Looking up as he smeared her lips and cheeks, the Latina nodded meekly. Manny said, "We'll see," then speared her lips with his dick again.

Four days later...

It was a little after four when Manny closed shop, heading towards the carbon grey AMG Mercedes Benz coupe gleaming beneath the bright Arizona sun. North of the parking lot, homebound commuters began to clog the Ajo Highway, infusing the Arizona dry air with fumes of exhaust and burnt oil. He could almost make out the shadowy heads of the nameless people inside the passing vehicles. The median income of the area was around forty to fifty thousand—about twenty to twenty-five richer than his hometown—yet the sedans and SUVs were terribly bland to the banana yellow Caprices and blueberry Cadillacs that populated the Tennessean streets of his youth. Rolling on big chrome rims, these vehicles would cruise the block while infecting the air with gansta rap and weed smoke, the occupants displaying their machismo with blinged-out scowls and aggressive hand signals—all on less than a quarter tank of gas.

Leaning against the trunk of his Mercedes, arms and ankle crossed, Manny begged the universe to materialize at least one "hood-rich" vehicle onto the highway. Bonus points if the rims value exceeded that of the vehicle's. And, oh, double if it was pumping profanity-laden lyrics through a trunk rattling sound system.

With the sun angling down at his eyes, Manny slipped on his designer shades then turned to his left, to the dark stain in the parking spot one over from him. That girl's leaking hella oil.

Rosa Martinez, his Spanish secretary... in training. She'd left exactly one second after 3:59.59 p.m.

He sympathized with single mother's urgency—it had been a long week for her—but as far as he was concerned, it was her own fault. That Monday, standing to her feet with a mouthful of cum, she'd looked up to him with her big round eyes, vulnerable and docile, and fragile, with her arms folded nervously below her breasts. Manny quickly turned away, reminding himself how she cried during her interview then played him a week later. Not again.

He'd told her that she could dress and go to her desk. After replying with a whisper-quiet "Yes sir," the Latina made her way around his desk on ponderous legs, undoubtedly sore from the in-depth reorientation. But when she reached the door he called her name, "Ms. Martinez," and she turned immediately to face him. "... Sir?" He straightened the knot of his tie. "Lunch is 11:30 to one—that's your time. The rest is mine. Understood?" She did. "... Yes sir," and exited his office into the lobby. An hour later he was heading towards her desk in the lobby with a purposeful stride, Bluetooth clipped to his ear, hands mostly free. She was reading a book when she turned to him... and saw his erection lancing the open slit of his zipper. He was standing on the right side of her chair, the swollen head of his dick a breath away from her left cheek. Neither said a word, just stared at each other before she swiveled her chair and took him into her mouth. Five minutes later he was bringing himself to finish, gazing down in her eyes as he fucked her impassive face.

He hadn't kept count, but she'd sucked him off numerous times, sometimes twice in one hour, and he'd taken her over his desk daily. He'd been vocal and demeaning through it all, having her repeat her job title "I'm Manny's Tisdale's Spanish slut." After swallowing his cum she would stand to her feet, taking his offered hand, "... Gracias," before looking up to him with those vulnerable dark eyes, causing him to look away and check an urgent notification on his smartphone. "That'll be all for now, Ms. Martinez." Silence, then, "... Yes sir."

He told himself that it was part of her two-week probation for playing him. But a part of him was feeling increasingly uneasy about the situation. He turned away from the watermelon-sized oil spot on the pavement and got into his Benz. His work week was over. It was time for the weekend...

That weekend, Catalina was an eager, spicy tamale. She dropped her cleaning supplies the moment she stepped inside his door, wrapping her arms around him. Manny reached over her and pushed the door shut. He hugged her to him, feeling her heavy breasts smash against his chest as he bent down and kissed her neck. The aroma of her obsidian ponytail was like a sweet tray of fruit and he rubbed the Spanish maid's big ass with both hands. "Did my Catalina miss her Papi?"

The Spanish milf purred wantonly while her domestic, caramel hands roamed his lean and muscled torso then down to his loose shorts, one hand pulling back the waist band while the other reached inside... Sucking his earlobe, she stroked his manhood to hardness, cooing, "Si Papi," before whispering a string of salacious Latin murmurs that Manny translated, roughly: And this big black dick, too, Daddy.

Monday

Disgruntled Employee

It was a sullen Rosa Martinez who returned to work that following Monday. She walked past Manny without so much a glance. He closed and locked the door. "How was your weekend?"

She was already pulling her blouse over her head when he turned around. "Fine," she responded, tossing her top onto the couch. With the austere expression of an obligated spouse, she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. "By the couch or in your office."

Manny was about to address her tone but bit his lip when she, with the coyness of a swimsuit model, tossed her bra to the couch, letting her nubile breasts fall pleasingly against her chest. She then reached to unzip her skirt, meeting Manny's lecherous gaze with the jaded air of a stripper. "Sir?"

Swallowing the spit that pooled at the bottom of his jaw, Manny pointed down to his right. "The couch."

Rosa unzipped her skirt, its metallic zip ringing through the silent lobby. Glaring down at the couch she clenched her jaw as she grabbed the sides of her skirt. She looked to Manny again. "Skirt?" A pause, then, "Sir?"

"... That's okay," he said. Seeing the skirt poised around the immigrant's curvy hips had momentarily mesmerized the young professional. Still, her sullen disposition annoyed him. While her question was valid (typically, she was unclothed only in his office, where he would fondle and spank her booty while she kneeled between his legs), she was skirting dangerously close to insubordination.

The dour secretary was now moving towards the arm of the couch, her worn, three-inch heels clopping against the speckled vinyl tile. She was about to kneel into position when Manny grasped her arm. She looked up to him, her steely expression reminding him of their disastrous first week. He pulled her upright against him. "You know how much I like my morning hug."

She stood impassively, resting her limp hands on his shoulders while he groped her shapely ass. When he nuzzled and kissed her neck, she tilted her head, looking off at the stack of books on her desk while he breathed deeply at her neck. When he moved to her mouth she offered no resistance as he penetrated her lips and sucked her soft tongue.

Then he grasped her shoulders and the Latina went to her knees and immediately reached for his belt. A moment later the back of her head was pressed firmly against the couch, thudding solidly against its arm, while the sluicing sound of a rigid dick stroking a wet mouth filled the lobby. Every couple of thrusts a lewd utterance would join the lewd chorus: "Fuck, I love your mouth; Yeah, work that Spanish tongue; Goddamn your face is sexy." while listless eyes gazed disinteretingly and wiped her chin.

With unblinking, listless eyes, Rosa was little more than a face and a hole, her head thudding to the rhythmic pistoning of her mouth. Were it not for the occasional wiping of her chin, Manny would not have known if she conscious. He didn't mind. The robotic, lifeless gaze on her dark features aroused him—it was as if he owned a Spanish sex doll.

At the first ball-tightening tingle of release, he began thrusting to the back of the Latina's throat, and she gagged with a grimace. "Then use your hands," he snapped, not stopping the relentless battering the inside of her mouth. "Look at me, slut. Show me those sexy eyes."

The young immigrant woman did as she was told, looking up into her employer's eyes while his veined shaft rubbed the soft inside of her palms.

"Oh... FUCK!"

Afterwards, she tilted her head spilling the slimy contents of her mouth into a wad of tissue. Ignoring the offered hand, she rose to her feet. Her face was emotionless. "... Do you need anything else, sir?"

Manny grabbed some tissue from the table in front the couch and dabbed his dick. He turned back to the Latina. "That'll be all, for now, Ms. Martinez."

The young woman retrieved her belongings and headed directly towards the restroom, with heels clopping against the tile. She disappeared inside, locking the door with an echoing metallic clack.

Staring at the closed door, Manny tucked in his business shirt and fixed his pants. A part of him wanted to knock on the door and ask if she was okay, perhaps help her find a real job. Then another wanted to remind the unskilled immigrant how easily she could be replaced. It was harsh, but life wasn't fair. And as an old, retired pimp once told him: No shame in a woman selling pussy. Hell, we're all whorin' for something, for somebody..

Checking his watch, Manny strolled past the restroom door and went into his office. He refused to be soft. He had money and nice things because he did what he had to do to get them. Why shouldn't she have to do the same?

Why indeed.

Thursday

A Quiet Storm

By Thursday an undeniable shadow had fallen over the office. It dulled the sunlight streaking through the windows; overpriced coffee lost its superficial twang; and the A/C never rose above Bitter Chill.

That was fine by Manny. He was born in the South—in the Projects. He didn't give a damn about the weather or how well Starbucks sweetened the taste of burnt beans. Just as long as his sexy Spanish secretary fulfilled her office duties, his day was peachy.

But the Latina's brooding disposition was difficult to completely ignore. He couldn't understand it. Why wasn't she like her mother? He and Catalina could fuck like irresponsible teenagers then spend the rest of the day in domestic comfortability; and she never made him feel guilty afterwards (which he refused to acknowledge). Hell, I didn't go out looking for these pretty, big butt Latinas, he thought indignantly. They brought their long hair and soft asses to me!

Then the doorbell rang and Manny hustled out of his office.

When he opened the door Rosa strolled inside like a returning coal miner headed back into the hole. Manny closed and locked the door. "Morning," he said. He was turning around when she finally returned his greeting. She'd already sat her purse on the couch and was now unbuttoning her shirt, a short-sleeve button-down. Before her usual, Where do you want me? Manny said, "In my office," and strolled passed her without a glance. "And take everything off," he said without turning around. "Shoes, too."

He was standing behind his desk, shirtless, draping his shirt over the back of his chair. He froze when he saw her walk in. She'd stopped just inside the door, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her caramel toes small and cute atop the faded green carpet. A tamed forest of black silky hair covered her mound, the shape of a pinecone. But it was the way she looked at him that gave him pause. Like a spoiled child seeing their toys being mishandled. Damn, she's sexy even when she's mad.

Manny looked away, unclipping his phone from his belt. He'd already resolved to ignore her dispirited attitude. Her personal business was her own. But if she was going to act salty, the least he could do was to make it justified.

"Come here," he said, setting his phone aside on the desk. Silently, the Latina padded across the carpet and around his desk, stopping at his side. He turned and faced her, uncrossing her arms to look her over. Her toes weren't painted or professionally groomed, but she had pretty her feet and toes—which suddenly turned shy.

Despite her surly expression he admired her curvy, nubile body and hugged her against him, pressing his mouth over hers as her breasts flattened against his bare chest. For several moments he fucked her mouth with his tongue, pressing his erection against her stomach while she stood placidly in his arms.

Manny pulled back, his face stern. "You can work that mouth better than that," he chided. "And don't forget what I said about calling immigration if you don't act right. Is that what you want?"

The threat seemed to fulfil its purpose, as the Latina's hardened gaze softened immediately with timid, dark eyes. Rosa swallowed nervously. "... No sir."

"Good. Now give me a real kiss," he said, flexing his erection against her belly. "Like how you'd kiss your baby daddy if he came back."

The effect of his words was immediate, Rosa's dark brows frowned with a mixture of hurt and displeasure. Unmoved, Manny waited. Finally, the Latina sighed in defeat, her eyes displaying the hopelessness of a drowning woman caught out in the rain. Her jaw clenched as she closed her eyes, exhaling slow before opening them slowly, staring deeply into his eyes.

"Yes sir."

Manny gave a sound of surprise as she grasped the back of his head with naked desperation. Her mouth was on his, devouring and needy. She pressed herself firmly against his body, a silent plea to touch and hold her. A plea he heard, gripping her thick big butt possessively, to which she moaned into his mouth with unadulterated passion.

He was already holding her tight but she squeezed harder still, until her arms were trembling around him. Giving her the closeness that she wanted, Manny's arms flexed around the Latina's body as he turned penning her against his desk. With savage hands and kisses, he seized her soft caramel skin, mauling her neck and shoulders while she whimpered helplessly in his arms. Lust and longing found eager participants between boss and secretary, and the intimate sounds of breath and flesh filled the office, as the two held each other with the anguish of wounded lovers.

Like a gentle breeze the impassioned kiss ended naturally. Lingering lips, flushed and bruised, limped to cheeks and throats, a momentary truce.

The office air cooling wetness on his face, Manny cracked open an eye, and felt his stomach constrict in shame at the dark watery trail at the corner of the Latina's closed eye. He realized then that he had to stop this. Regardless of how she'd played him, he had absolutely no right to prey on her loneliness.

Then pillowy lips were leapfrogging down to his neck, his chest, his stomach, and he realized she was about to suck his dick, just as she shrunk to the floor. With his dick throbbing in anticipation he looked down and saw his hand reaching for her hair, the liquid-black locks disappearing the tips of his long brown fingers as she settled herself against the end of his desk.

Sniffing lightly, she pulled down his underwear, flinching as the steely erection sprung free. Wetting her lips, she grasped him with both hands.

The office air was a coat of frost on the taut, thin skin but only intensified the sensual warmth of her palms. With dove-soft hands she began stroking his shaft. She looked up into his eyes, jerking his manhood at her luscious mouth, a trail of mascara on each side of her face. The sight of her beautiful sad face so close to his dick almost took him over, and he stopped her hands before they undid him prematurely.
Instead of sneering or rolling her eyes (as she'd done before), she looked up to him submissively and loosened her grip, before swaddling the swollen crown with the tip of her pink tongue, taking it upon herself to lick off the excess prenut.

Manny's breath hitched with imminence, and Rosa wetted her lips in preparation, inviting him to hold her head while dark eyes full of erotic obedience gazed submissively into his.

Slowly, Manny shoved his dick between her fisted hands, breathing heavily as the wide crest of his manhood tunneled deliciously to her face. He held her gaze as he pushed further, her berry-colored lips sealing around his girth as he breached her mouth.

He pushed deeper, panting excitedly as her tongue cradled his sensitive glands in heated slickness, crushing his bulbous head against the roof of her mouth. The stockbroker had barely caught his breath before he slowly withdrew until her lips were a puckered ring of flesh around his head. Shivering with naked arousal, he pushed back in...

Kneeling patiently, Rosa gazed into his eyes while he fucked her face with slow, deliberate thrusts. She could see the pleasure on his face and knew was he close, could feel him throbbing and leaking on her tongue as, for a several moments, he slid in and out of her mouth in a zombie-like haze of fevered lust.

One... Two... Three...

On the fourth thrust he came, explosively and hard, his mouth strained open in a soundless groan as he blasted the inside of her face with jets of cum.

They the other's head tenderly and she jerked him to finish, gulping down his thick seed as he buried his fingers in her silky hair, until she'd milked the last creamy bead.

Straightening on weakened legs, Manny looked on with masculine pride as the Latina cleaned him with her tongue then tucked away his dick and shirt. After buckling his belt, the topless Latina dabbed the corners of her eyes and rose to her feet, looking to him with an expression that somehow looked defiant in its submission.

"Do you need anything else, sir?"

Manny paused, searching her eyes for resentment. He saw none. Either she was the next Meryl Streep or she had rededicated herself to their Arrangement.

"... Not right now, Ms. Martinez. You can clean yourself up and get dressed. I'll call if I need you."

The Latina gave a submissive nod. "Yes sir." Then turned and padded away. Manny watched as she rounded the desk and headed for the door, inhaling the sweet, spicy cloud of her perfume.

As she walked away, the tantalizing jiggle of her shapely backside stirred a delicious warmth within his groin—even if his was disgusted with himself. He'd just coerced a young single mother into being his willing whore, performing essentially a hostile takeover of her body, using his money and her illegal status as leverage to seize her assets. There were few words in his vocabulary that could describe such trifling behavior. Diabolical seemed appropriate.

Her bare feet slapped against the tile floor as her beautiful ass disappeared into the lobby. A moment later she reappeared within his line of sight holding her clothes. She stopped at the bathroom door, awkwardly reaching for the doorknob, her hands full.

Manny hurried around his desk. Pangs of guilt and self-reproach churned his stomach. How could he exploit this brave single mother and look himself in the mirror?

She'd already stepped inside the bathroom door by the time he reached his office door; the back of a toned, caramel leg and the smooth sole of her left foot was all that remained in the lobby. She flipped the switch, blanketing the widening gap with yellow light. In a sudden burst of decency Manny opened his mouth to speak. He would release her from this illicit servitude; he would help her financially until she found good, honest work. He would do the right thing.

But when she turned around, facing him from that small gap in the door, he closed his mouth as she met his gaze with undisguised deference. Seeing such a submissive look on her beautiful Mayan face obliterated any thought of emancipation. He wouldn't let her go—he couldn't—and Diabolical was quietly replaced with Ingenious.

Rosa waited patiently in the doorway, staring into his eyes as if reading his thoughts, her expression passive with a slightly raised brow, as she pulled the door back to show him her breasts and hips and flawless, South American skin.

Manny licked his lips.

Suddenly his smartphone binged from inside his office. Time to work. Still, the Latina didn't close the door until he was walking back towards his desk. But as he rounded it, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she had reopened the door, just barely, as an ominous sense of being covertly observed washed over him.

Manny stopped and looked out of his door, briefly meeting a pair of dark eyes before they disappeared behind the bathroom door. The image of her face was superimposed over the cream-colored door as if the sun had seared it onto his retinas. And he swore he saw something, something simmering in the depths of those round, sultry orbs of liquid-black she called eyes. Whatever it was, it was enough to convince him that he'd pushed her too far. The moment she doesn't need my money, I'm fucked, he reasoned.

Still, the stockbroker found that acceptable, as the return more than justified the risk. He would handle her as he would any other volatile bundle of securities. The trick was to limit the additional influx of those triple B, shitty bonds—if left alone, it'd stabilize, usually.

Confident of his abilities, Manny grabbed his shirt off his chair and turned his attentions to Wall Street. I'm probably just paranoid.

Probably.

If you leave a comment and/or vote—thanks.

silkcita
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