The Partner - Chapter 3 Beta (Patreon)

“What do you mean Thomas is gone,” Sarah asked. 

“It’s very simple, honey,” Erik answered. “Your husband was very enthusiastic about validating the agreement and departed to visit his company lawyer. After all, what’s the harm leaving his wife alone with his new business partner, right?”

Sarah would have liked to say Thomas wouldn’t leave without even bothering to send a message, but it would be a lie. With the recent threat of bankruptcy, the company had started to take more and more of his attention. The fact that he had decided to leave her with Erik without a warning was eerily believable. But just because he left her there didn’t mean she had to stay there, she decided. She stood up. 

“Sit down,” Erik ordered. It wasn’t that his voice was loud. It was barely above a whisper, yet under his sharp gaze and slight frown, Sarah found her legs following the command without consulting her brain first. “Good,” he continued. “You still haven’t had your dessert.” 

She stood frozen, wordless, a state of affairs that started to become disturbingly common. She tried to come up with something to say, but before she could construct one, the waiter came, carrying a tray of dessert. “Panna cotta for the lady,” Erik said, and the waiter turned to her and lowered the plate. His hand was a bit shaky, and it made contact with the table harder than necessary. Not surprising, Sarah thought as her arms rose reflexively, trying to cover up the cleavage the waiter was so busy looking into. But she saw Erik shaking his head subtly, and her arms fell onto the table once more, leaving a clear display for the waiter to enjoy despite the burning feeling on her skin. 

The waiter went away, though only after spending several seconds more than necessary loitering around the table, filling himself with the view she was providing. But his absence did little to calm Sarah. Erik continued to loom over at the other side of the table. His gaze fell on her dessert, and she found herself raising the spoon, the sugary smell filling her nose. “How is the dessert,” he asked casually a few seconds later like everything was completely normal. 

“It’s okay,” Sarah found herself saying. 

He looked like he was about to answer, but his hand brushed his fork, and it fell on the ground. “How clumsy of me,” Erik said. “Sarah, be a dear and pick it up, would you.” 

Sarah was about to tell him just to call a waiter to bring a new one when his smile twisted wider, and she heard the sound of a fork dragging on the floor. She looked at him incredulously, realizing it was not an accident but a deliberate move to make her go under the table. What awaited her under the table, she had no trouble imagining. She opened her mouth, about to reject his ridiculous proposition when he locked her into his gaze, with steel behind. 

Her words aborted, she sneaked under the table after a glance making sure no one was around to observe it, thanking the gods for the relatively isolated location of the table, and even more importantly, the tablecloth was long enough to touch the floor. Concealed under the thick white fabric, there was barely enough light to see the silhouettes of the objects. But that was a nascent comfort when his shaft stood tall and intimidating, wrapped in a hulking darkness. Sooner she started, sooner she could finish the ridiculous suffering she was under. 

She reached, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, her fingers failing to touch as she did her best to envelop his girth. Her hand started to move up and down as his shaft throbbed against her skin. “Good start,” she heard him saying. “But don’t dally too much before starting to eat your dessert.” She didn’t want his taste in her mouth once more, not after she spent most of the night trying to forget it. And more importantly, she found it was much easier to defy him when she wasn’t overwhelmed under his sharp gaze. She continued pumping him for a while, hoping that he would climax, but minutes passed with no result. 

Not willing to take him into her mouth, she decided it was enough, and sneaked out of the table, though her earlier determination took a fatal damage as soon as she met his iron gaze, capturing her as soon as she pushed her head above the table. She froze for a moment, waiting for a command she felt she was about to receive. She knew that, at that point, she lacked the willpower to reject any command, no matter how degrading. A command that failed to arrive, much to her shock. With trembling legs, she managed to push herself back to her seat, remembering to check her surroundings only after her ass made a contact with the seat. 

“Are you enjoying your dessert,” he asked with a casual tone, contrasting with the fire that burned in his eyes. Unable to find the willpower to actually form the words, she refrained from answering, just nodding instead. “Good,” he added. “At least you can enjoy a nice moment before we move to your punishment.” 

“Punishment,” she repeated in shock. She should have felt pure outrage at the suggestion that she was responsible for following his orders to the extent that failure required restitution, but the shock seemed the limit she was able to gather. 

“Yes, punishment,” he repeated in a confident smirk. “But since you were timorous enough to talk back, I should start now. Give me your panties.” 

She couldn’t do anything but look at him in a total shock, or at least her conscious mind did. Only after she felt a sudden drift under her skirt that she realized her hands already capitulated to his demands before her mental approval, pulling down her panties. Helpless, she rose in her seat a bit, enough to allow her panties to slide down her legs. The distinct click of a phone taking a photo didn’t exactly make things better, especially when one of his hands were under the table, leaving no doubt about the scene he just immortalized. Still, she was already helpless, and a couple of photos weren’t likely to ruin her life any worse than the material he already possessed. 

Her fingers were trembling badly as she pushed her fist forward, a bunched up underwear hidden in her fist. At least, she escaped the humiliation of being caught as she passed her underwear to a man in a public setting. He smiled as she dropped the bundle in his hands, but she was happy to note that he put it in his pocket instead of unfolding to check, advertising the circumstances of their lunch to other visitors. “Good,” he murmured in good humor, causing her annoyance to rise, but it was targeted more to her sudden satisfaction rather than his words. 

Their lunch fell into a silent flow, broken by the occasional visit by the waiter to check whether they had any other request, far too often than they should. Sarah would’ve assumed it was because of Erik’s relative standing in the restaurant, but the waiter’s gaze that stayed stuck at her cleavage at each visit told a different tale. Even worse, the waiter ignored the obvious signs of her discomfort after receiving a subtle nod from Erik. His chuckle at her begging gaze after the waiter left for the first time told her in no uncertain terms that it was a part of her punishment. 

She couldn’t help but feel elated when she saw Erik gesturing the waiter to bring the check. The sign that her public torture was about to come to an end brought a smile to her face, one even the waiter’s hungry gaze unable to erase. She said nothing as he paid the check, though her eyes grew a bit when she saw the size of the tip he left, another sign of his wealth. “Shall we,” he said as he stood up, presenting his arm to her. She would’ve liked to ignore his arm, but there was a tightness in his smile, telling her that she wouldn’t enjoy the consequences. 

She placed her arm on his arm, ready to go. “Ups, I almost forgot to leave the tip,” he said, reaching for the check. She was about to remind him that he already handled it, when she realized he wasn’t holding cash in his hand. She felt a burning sensation of shame invading her body as he left her panties on top of the check, and the smirk of the waiter didn’t help any. He started walking without uttering another word, and she followed, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she did her best to ignore what the waiter was going to do with her panties later on. 

She felt naked as they traversed the restaurant, each step carefully to keep her skirt from flaring. Her skin crawled as every eye tracked her movement. She would like to discount the feeling as paranoia, but with the absence of her bra, her blouse failed the task of covering her breasts, a generous silhouette on display for every wandering eye, not made better by the strong afternoon sun shining behind her. The only detail that could be construed as positive was the lack of familiar faces. The last thing she needed was to explain why she was dining with a man other than her husband, in a dress that would fit perfectly for a sorority party. 

“Here are your keys,” the valet came to them the instant they stepped outside the restaurant. She understood the reason for his excitement in the form of a hundred-dollar bill, hidden in Erik’s palm which transferred to the valet in a firm handshake. Still, she felt sympathetic to him, as he wasn’t doing his best trying to memorize every detail of her cleavage like the earlier waiter. 

They took a few steps forward, her eyes looking for the car he used for yesterday’s visit, but she was unable to find it. Instead, he led her towards another car, this one a high-end sports car with a distinctive green paint. “How many cars do you have?” she asked before her brain could fully engage. 

“Enough,” he answered as he continued towards the car. Focused on the car, and the extent of his wealth if he had multiple cars of that level, she failed to notice the movement of his hand until too late. Only after she felt a distinct sense of chill on her bottom, she realized the absence of the comforting feeling of the fabric rubbing against her skin. With a panicked yelp, her hand found her skirt and pushed down, covering her bottom once more, though the errant glance she sent backward showed her that valet was observing her steps with a dazed interest. 

Ashamed, confused, and helpless, she put no resistance as he opened the door and led her towards the passenger seat before taking the driver’s seat himself. He pressed the gas, and the distinctive rumble of a sports car reverberated across her body as they sped away. Despite everything, she felt excitement spreading through her body under the sudden acceleration. 

Her attention divided between the sudden thrill of the ride and the utter humiliation she had experienced moments ago, it took a while for her to gather herself to speak. “What the hell was-” she exclaimed, only to cut like a knife as he turned towards her, holding her under the sharp gaze that was starting to get disturbingly familiar. 

“We can keep your mouth better occupied if you have enough energy to speak,” he spoke as his fingers found his zipper, and released his shaft. 

She would have liked to claim that she had resisted his ridiculous proposal, or at least resisted until he had brought up the blackmail video that was in his possession. Unfortunately, both would be inaccurate. The delay between his order and her lips wrapping around his erection was negligible, and only after she bobbed her head several times she even remembered the existence of the blackmail video. But before she could think on the implication of her sudden obedience, she felt a hand over her head, and the sudden pressure pushed his shaft deeper into her throat in a scene that was disturbingly similar. 

There was a silver lining, a part of her mind recorded morbidly. At least she wasn’t trying to keep her voice low as he mercilessly invaded her throat, afraid of alerting her husband. A sudden wave of guilt welled up inside her as she realized that she was recording her ability to cheat her husband with no risk of getting caught, the reasons for it suddenly paling in consequence. She would’ve liked to pull away, but the pressure of his hand didn’t allow it, and she lacked the confidence to push for it. 

Then, she felt the pressure that locked her to the position disappear, and she heard the glove compartment opening and closing. Instead of trying to guess what he removed from there, however, she was busy assessing relative advantages of pulling back versus continuing her horrible task. On the one hand, she would be escaping the humiliating position she was suffering, and on the other hand, she would be inviting an even worse punishment for her resistance. 

However, a realization pushed both options to the background. She was aroused. A fresh wave of guilt was ready to accompany the realization, tainting her heart. It was ridiculous, she would have shouted if her mouth wasn’t busy with another task. She couldn’t feel aroused under the hands of her blackmailer, regardless of the eroticism of the situation, or the impressive ravings of the engine she felt across her body. It was simply impossible. 

Confused, she almost welcomed the weird noise that reached her ears. A familiar one that she managed to identify as scissors, but in her dazed state, she failed to consider why exactly he was using it for until she felt the distinct chill of air condition on her back, unbroken by the fabric of her blouse. But before she could react, his fingers grabbed her blouse and pulled away, leaving her breasts fully naked as well. 

This time, she felt an outrage spreading through her chest, annoyed that he was playing her like a toy. That would be enough to cause her to pull away, but once again, he proved the superiority of his reflexes, preventing her escape by pressing his hand on her head, pushing her even deeper. The higher level thoughts escaped her mouth as she focused on more primal needs such as breathing, a simple task impeded by his shaft invading her throat. 

She gagged, she wheezed, she begged… Also, she occasionally breathed when he was generous enough to reduce the pressure, allowing her to get enough air to keep her conscious, but not enough to dispel the drunk sensation that filled her mind. He pushed into her throat countless time until she felt a sudden shot of liquid filling her mouth. “Don’t you dare to spit,” a familiar voice ordered. In a haze, she did her best to follow the order, swallowing the load to the best of her ability, her hands rising to her chin to catch the excess. 

A few seconds passed until she noticed the overwhelming sound of the engine was absent for a while. “Welcome home,” he said with a drawling voice, and suddenly, she realized she was in front of her house, naked other than a skimpy skirt, her chin covered with cum. And to make things even worse, her arousal was sliding down her legs, the remainder of two orgasms she experienced during the drive. She would’ve liked to slap him for putting her in such a horrible situation, but she had much more important concerns, such as whether she was seen by a neighbor. The driveway was relatively obscured by the trees and hedges, but that wasn’t enough to give a total cover. She said nothing, just opened the door and dashed out to the door, praying that her husband wasn’t at home yet. 

Explaining her current state was an impossible task.