Sisterhood of the Iron Mind

Meetings were my least favorite part of the job. I stood over the shoulder of the young man sitting at the head of the table in the conference room, turning to face whomever was speaking and making sure I didn't let how mind-numbingly bored I was show on my face.

Today's was an all-hands meeting of DM Transit's executives. They were a cadre of five older men and two older women, all in pressed suits, and all so deferent and obsequious to the young man I was standing behind. Their reports were boilerplate and exaggerated, highlighting their merits and downplaying their shortcomings.

The CEO, Gray Black (his parents had an awful sense of humor, even making his middle name 'White', a play on his mother's maiden name of Weiß) was unmoved by his subordinates' pretenses. He was not condescending or rude, simply asking insightful questions which tore away at the wool the assembled executives were trying to put over his eyes. Anyone witnessing the scene would be easily convinced that his immaculate appearance came from gene regeneration treatment, rather than being any indication of his actual age. But while his dark curls, piercing blue eyes, and high cheekbones were all signs of his genetic engineering, his youthful countenance was a result of his genuine age of twenty-one.

Meanwhile, I was an ornament. A curvy redhead looking pretty in her navy blue blazer and matching knee-length pencil skirt. I'd prepared a cup of coffee for Mr. Black before the meeting had started, but he'd only taken a single sip. I did not expect him to ask for a refill, and his subordinates knew better than to ask me anything. I was not permitted to serve anyone but Mr. Black. Their assistants, meanwhile, were made to wait outside as a show of Mr. Black's status.

Not simply his status as the head of the company, though. Mr. Black's father (who was, of course, also Mr. Black) was the owner of DM Transit's parent company, Dark Matter Inc., which was also one of the largest Corporate Authorities in existence. It directly or indirectly controlled about 1% of the Milky Way. Mr. Black had been put in charge of DM Transit as part of his training as Dark Matter's heir.

Once the assembled executives' self-aggrandizing pretentions had at last been exhausted, the meeting approached a conclusion. Mr. Black addressed an upcoming conference he would be attending in another system. "I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'll be back..." he looked at the screen on the far wall, which was showing the resting animation (a swirling spiral galaxy). He addressed the construct: "Stella, what is the date of my return?"

[You are scheduled to return ten local days from today, in the evening.]

"And there you have it. As planned, Mrs. Watson will be in charge in my absence. Are there any questions?" Mr. Black asked. When no one had any, he stood. "Then I'll see you all in ten days." With that, he headed to the elevator with me behind him. We headed up to the top floor.

Once we were safely alone, he leaned into me, resting his head in the crook of my neck and putting an arm around my waist to pull me closer. He took a deep breath through his nose and said, "I like today's perfume. Keep it in the rotation."

"Yes, Mr. Black," I replied, patting his back. The posture was a bit awkward thanks to him being a full head taller than me, but we didn't have to keep it up for long. The elevator soon reached its destination, and we arrived at a large vestibule furnished with chairs and couches for visitors, currently empty.

Mr. Black kept his arm around me as he led me through the double-doors into his office proper. It was a spacious room, taking up the rest of the top floor. The walls on our right and the one across from us had floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooked the sprawling metropolis around the building. We were at least a thousand feet up, more than two-hundred feet higher than the next highest building.

The office held a sitting area, a conference table, and two desks. The closer one was technically mine, though it had been half a year since I'd last used it. The farther one, which formed a near semicircle where it sat against the far window, was Mr. Black's. It was made of solid, dark wood, with a modesty panel hiding the area beneath it.

Mr. Black got behind it, moving through the opening between the window and the side of the desk which didn't quite reach it. Once he was situated in the black leather chair, he nodded at the shadows beneath the desk and said, "Mouth first today."

Thanks to the wide arc formed by the desk, I didn't have trouble getting behind and under it. I got down on my knees, crawling between his spread legs so that my armpits neatly rested on his lower thighs.

He was wearing silk pants, held up by a leather belt. I could already see his bulge through the thin material, and I gave it a quick squeeze which elicited a pleased grunt before working on the belt buckle. With that undone, the button and zipper followed, and a quick tug on the elastic band of his underwear unleashed his considerable member. I stopped it from springing up into the bottom of his desk with my free hand, angling it down so that the cockhead was eye-level with me. I greeted it with a kiss.

It was more salty and musty than usual today. It seemed Mr. Black had been more nervous in that meeting than he'd appeared. I started with my lips and tongue, the former applying light pressure to the tip while the latter tickled it. I could feel it expanding further into my mouth as my technique got him even harder, and once he'd grown to his full length of seven inches (he'd asked me to measure it), I switched things up.

I delicately steadied the tip with two fingers, allowing it to point slightly upward as I ran my tongue from the neck of his glans to the base of his shaft, then back up. He couldn't help but shiver at this part, his legs trembling under me as I interspersed more kisses with the repeated movements. At one particularly fierce tremor, I put my mouth back around the tip and gave it the lightest, gentlest nibble with my teeth. I opened wide a moment later, knowing what was coming next.

He involuntarily flexed his calf muscles. The heels of his feet shot up, which in turn raised his knees. Since I was resting on them, I was forced to bend forward to keep my head from hitting the bottom of the desk. The move pushed me further onto his dick, sending it right to the back of my mouth.

I didn't move my head yet, starting with light suction and working the bottom with my tongue. I gave a deep moan from the back of my throat to vibrate him, and was rewarded with a light twitch. My right hand found the waistband of his underwear. I reached under it to free his balls, massaging them.

They were even sweatier than his dick had been, slick and slightly sticky as I moved them up and down with my fingers, gradually upping the intensity. The thumb and index finger of my left hand formed an 'O', which I used to work the couple inches of his shaft that were still outside my mouth.

The contrast between the minimal stimulation inside my mouth and the near-overstimulation outside was getting him worked up. His breathing grew heavier. He began tightening his glutes and rocking forward with his hips, trying to create some of the motion I was denying him.

Eyes still wide open viewing his thighs and waist, I could see every move he was about to make by reading the tension in his muscles and the slight shifts in his posture. I expertly brought my head back with each attempt to push further into my mouth, keeping his position between my lips steady despite his efforts.

This went on for a couple of minutes. I built up speed with my left hand, and my right's fondling grew more aggressive. His thrusting grew more aggressive in turn, forcing me further and further back each time to maintain my hold. All the while, I'd been lapping up his salty precum. But he grew tired of my teasing more quickly today than usual.

I saw his hands reaching under the desk over my head, and I took in a deep breath through my nose and relaxed the muscles in my throat. I moved my hands to the bottom of the arms of his chair as I readied myself.

He grabbed the back of my head. His grip around my waist in the elevator had been gentle, if a bit firm. But his hands now were fueled by primal need as he roughly pushed me onto him. His balls slapped my chin as my lips met his crotch. The head of his cock was pointed straight down my throat now, his precum leaking into my stomach.

He held me there for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of complete immersion. He shifted his weight a bit, the movement stimulating both of us as he rubbed against the inside of my mouth and my throat. Then he removed his hands and went back to work.

Despite his sudden intensity, I didn't match it immediately. I slowly withdrew from him, puckering my lips to apply just the right amount of force on the exit. I took in another breath as the inside of my lips met his glans. Then with the same leisurely pace, I welcomed him back down my gullet with a slurp.

I paused again when I kissed his crotch. I worked my tongue some more, licking the length of his shaft from the inside this time. I moaned as I did, my throat vibrating around the head which gave another twitch. He loved it when I moaned for him.

I took a leisurely pace as I ramped up the intensity. Moving in and out faster, sucking harder, moaning deeper. As I picked up speed, my arms got involved, pushing me away and pulling me back for added vigor. It was at least ten minutes before I'd reached my full speed, pumping my head on his dick as he read reports and responded to messages a foot above me.

But as I felt him begin to twitch, felt him pressing against the top of my mouth as he couldn't help but flex the muscles in his groin, I slowed. I didn't stop, but I returned to a more measured pace, waiting until he calmed down.

I took a more varied approach now, changing speed and technique with each raise and lower of my head. I returned my right hand to his balls while my left hand reached up his dress shirt and stroked his stomach. I provided enough stimulation to keep him at his peak, but never enough to bring him release.

This final phase lasted as long as he willed it to. And today it seemed he was in the mood to be edged for a good while. As I bobbed up and down, felt him up beneath his shirt, and kneaded his balls, I was vaguely aware of the passage of time. The window behind him faced west, and the sun had descended into view as I worked.

In the first year I'd spent working for Mr. Black, honing my technique had been my primary duty. I would focus on him and his needs for hours at a time. He would provide feedback on what was and wasn't working, and in the early months he'd even hired an experienced courtesan to serve as an instructor.

Now nearly two years on, pleasuring him had become second-nature. I knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it; I had been trained into his perfect sexual partner. My technique was so advanced that I could perform any number of variations to perfectly control his arousal without even thinking about it.

In my zen state of flawless execution, my mind began to wander. I wondered what the bright, twenty-year old woman so excited to hear that she had the talent to become a Level 5 Metacog would think if she'd known her first assignment would be as a sex pet to a corporate heir. That she'd go through four years of grueling training all to end up here.

I'd been ecstatic to learn of my aptitude. While other disciplines had more application at the lower levels, Level 5 Metacognition was by far the most valuable ability a psion could have. Including me, there were only twelve Level 5 Metacogs in the entire galaxy, each employed by the largest Corporate Authorities or retained by the Sisterhood. The ability to not only see the future, but to gain preternatural knowledge of the inner-workings of the competition... It was no exaggeration to say that we were indispensable.

While power and prestige were attractive, most of my excitement had come from how lucrative my powers would be. I remembered telling the Omni that I wanted to sell my services to whomever would offer the most for them. I'd told her I would do anything I was asked as long as I was being paid a premium for it.

She'd fixed me with her austere gaze, considering my request. She'd spoken cautionary words: "Anything means anything. Are you sure there's nothing you wouldn't do?"

I hadn't understood. She'd literally trained me to kill. What more could be asked of me? Perhaps to lay down my life, but I knew no company would be willing to waste a Level 5 Metacog, and that my own survival would always be the highest priority of any employer. And so I told her I was sure.

Maybe she'd thought I'd understood, or perhaps she'd wanted me to be in for a rude awakening. She'd shown me the three highest offers, and not only was Dark Matter's twice that of the next best, it also seemed the simplest. "Attend to the needs of the Corporate Authority's heir, Gray Black." It was a two-year contract which would automatically renew if neither party opted out. Naturally, I accepted.

Still, perhaps I'd had the last laugh. Even if I'd known what the Omni and the contract had been implying, I still would have agreed. Besides the corporate nobility, everyone sold their body in one way or another. And I was undoubtedly the best-paid prostitute in the galaxy.

The sun had progressed a good ways down the window toward the horizon before my ruminations were interrupted. It was less a pat on my head than a tap, a signal that Mr. Black wanted to finish.

I obliged him, returning to my highest intensity and devoting all of my effort on creating the ideal speed, with the perfect amount of suction and vibration in my throat. Nearly an hour of edging had done its work, and within moments his length was throbbing in my mouth. As he reached his release, I threw my hands around his waist and went as deep as I could, fully relaxing my throat.

Thick, hot semen shot directly into me. I couldn't even taste it thanks to how deep he was unloading it. I worked him with my mouth and throat, milking him for every last drop. I felt his chest resting against my head as he leaned forward over his desk, heard him softly panting.

I stopped draining him once his twitching had subsided and he began to soften. Next came the clean-up, which was a practical concern. I started by swallowing around him, getting all of the excess saliva in my mouth down my throat so that I wouldn't dribble more on either of us. Even so, drool was running down my chin and onto his chair, but that was solved with a handkerchief which I produced from an inside pocket of my blazer.

My mouth went up and down his length a few times for good measure, leaving it glistening clean once I popped it out. I held it steady with the handkerchief, keeping it up off of his chair instead of down away from his desk now that he wasn't fully erect. I awaited further instructions.

He tapped the underside of his desk twice over my head.

I held back a sigh, knowing exactly what that signal meant. Mr. Black was a rare pervert, with a 'fetish' (if that was even what it was) I'd never heard of. Even the courtesan who'd mentored me had been surprised when he'd described it to her. It wasn't anything extreme like bondage or sadism, but it was... odd.

I didn't do anything with him yet, only holding him in place while he recharged after his climax. With my other hand I unbuttoned the top of my blouse, then hiked up my pencil skirt so that it was more like a belt, revealing the lacy tops of my black stockings and their matching garter belt. For almost the past three months, Mr. Black had been going through something of a phase, instructing me not to wear any underwear.

This had been a double-edged sword. The convenient access made many aspects of my duties easier, but now there was the concern of slick or semen running down my thighs and into view. Especially given his penchant for having me sit on his lap during our rides to and from the office.

In this moment, my bare nethers were a convenience. I stuck two fingers into my unobstructed slit with my free hand. I was a bit wet thanks to his sweaty scent, but sucking him off hadn't really done much for me. So I needed to get myself ready.

I thought back to the highlights of my career here as I stroked myself. His shyness the first time I'd been on top of him. The longing way he called my name whenever he was the one on top of me. How he would run his hands through my hair when we were lying together after a long day. My heart began to race, and the sensation of my fingers grew sweeter and sweeter.

Once I could feel the juices flowing down my fingers, I stuck more in, sighing softly as I soaked them with my own arousal. Then I used that hand to grab Mr. Black, spreading my wetness all over his dick. It responded immediately, and I could feel each beat of his heart as it grew firmer and firmer. I collected more natural lubricant, and after a few trips between my legs and his cock, he was fully erect again.

The preparations complete, I brought my legs in and carefully turned around so that my back was to him. I put my left arm on the ground with my elbow bent under my forehead, which I rested on it. I moved my legs out to the sides, rising from my kneel into a wide-legged stance. Still with my skirt hiked up, I lifted my ass up and over his thighs while I reached behind my back for his dick with my other hand.

Once I'd found it, I angled it right toward my dripping pussy. I began spreading my legs wider, lowering myself slightly until I felt his tip come into contact with my lower lips. Then, when the angle was right, I let my hips drop onto his lap.

His dick naturally curved downward, and in this position he was immediately balls deep. I gasped as the sudden pressure drove the wind out of me, and brought my right arm under my head as I found a comfortable posture.

I did not begin bouncing on his lap. He did not begin thrusting his hips. I rested in that awkward stance, his girth filling me even as it sat motionless in the deepest part of me. I gasped again as he shifted in his seat slightly, adjusting the way my weight rested on him. But he didn't move beyond that.

Mr. Black's favorite way to work was while using me as a literal cock sleeve. I would hold this position under his desk for hours, taking breaks only for meetings. It had taken a great deal of physical conditioning to reach the point where I was capable of this, but now that I was, he had no qualms about keeping me down here every working moment.

He didn't completely ignore me. He would occasionally fondle my bare ass, or squeeze it like I was a living stress ball. Every so often, he'd rub my clit until I started convulsing around him. Part of my training had included teaching him how to work me, and he took great pleasure in his ability to bring me to climax whenever it suited him.

But for the most part, it was this. Constant, almost uncomfortable fullness. And a sharp spank any time I moved too much. He wasn't much of a sadist, and I wasn't much of a masochist, so the strikes were purely punitive.

I wasn't put off by it, though. Being full of cock got me going, even if I'd have preferred to be riding it. In an agonizingly-slow process, I felt myself beginning to heat at the point of connection, and it gradually spread out to the rest of my body. Before long, I was wet from more than the residue of my preparations.

Thanks to the my ass's elevation, there was only one place for my slick to go. It reached my garter belt first. As the minutes stretched on, it became soaked. The flow increased, and the garment was saturated. The stream moved past it down to my blouse, which was pressed up against my stomach by my hiked-up skirt. It started with the bottom hem, but the fabric began to grow transparent as it stuck to my skin.