The Suit and His Switch Claim Their Sub
Chapter One
“On your knees, boy.” Dietrich gripped his riding crop tightly in his fist as Stellan sank to his knees. His sub had shed his clothes as soon as he ordered it, and the light and shadows mixed well with the contracting of his muscles. “Who owns you, boy?” He ran the crop up the hard ridges of Stellan’s abdomen and felt his dick twitch when Stellan’s muscles clenched, showcasing a prominent six-pack.
“You do, Master.”
Dietrich lifted the boy’s head with the tip of his crop under his chin. His submissive’s light blue eyes locked with his, and his dick hardened further. A glance down showed Stellan’s cock was at full attention.
“Are you hungry for me, boy?”
His reply was instant. “Yes, Master.”
Dietrich grinned and said, “Then take out my shaft and suck the cum from me like a good sub.” Stellan undid the laces of Dietrich’s leathers and pulled out his erection. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to take the head of his cock into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Dietrich let himself get lost in the feel of his sub’s tongue lapping at his slit, drawing his seed from him with so much expertise it rivaled an artist fine-tuning his instrument. “Take it deep, boy. Swallow me whole.”
Like an obedient sub, Stellan did as he was told. Dietrich ran the crop along his shoulder, down his side, and over the hard, muscular curve of Stellan’s ass. With a flick of his wrist he brought the crop down upon the tanned flesh. He loved how his sub tensed then groaned in his own pleasure. With pain brought pleasure, and Dietrich would bring forth an ocean of both this evening.
****
Blythe Winters adjusted her skirt as the elevator ascended to the twenty-fifth floor of the Cosmopolitan Building. The doors in front of her were a brushed copper color, and her reflection was fairly clear. She had twisted her dark blonde hair in a stylish, yet simple chignon. Taking a step closer to the mirrored panel she ran her finger under her eye to make sure she didn’t have any residual mascara. Blythe hardly wore make-up, and when she did it was only for special occasions. Today was definitely a special occasion. Her light green eyes seemed brighter today, but it was probably from the lack of sleep she had gotten the past week. The rain had caused the air to become damp, which in turn caused her two year old ankle injury to ache something fierce. She bent and absently rubbed it, willing her anger and despair over everything she had lost to become buried deep inside of her. Now was not the time to reflect on what she lost, not when she was about to meet one of the wealthiest men in America.
Smoothing a hand down her outfit only caused her to feel the bumps and dips of her oversized body. Maybe a size sixteen wasn’t all that bad, but after her accident she had ballooned out. Her once size two frame now seemed like a distant memory. Food had become her friend, her calorie-filling, weight-gaining friend. She couldn’t even stand to look at herself in the mirror, let alone get together with anyone she used to know before the accident.
Being a temp had its ups and down, this particular job being one of the ups. When she got the call last night about a position that needed to be filled immediately, she had jumped on it. Not only was she going to be working for Dietrich “The Bear” Moore, CEO of Moore Industries, she was also going to spend one month in Europe with him as his PA. The downside to it all was she was working as “The Bear’s” personal assistant. It was no secret that Mr. Moore was a real hard-ass and control freak, but Blythe could overlook all of that because despite this being only a temporary position, it would pay her bills and she’d get a trip out of it.
The elevator dinged when it reached its destination, and she took a deep breath. She was usually nervous on her first day on the job, as was normal, but today brought on a whole set of new hesitation. The doors opened, and she stepped into the lobby. A sophisticatedly decorated lounge stood in front of her. Dark leather furniture and masculine décor was no doubt professionally placed. A glass and chrome reception desk sat directly in front of the elevator, and Blythe moved toward it. The young man behind the desk spoke rapidly on the phone. He held up one perfectly manicured finger as he finished his conversation. After the phone was set back in the cradle he looked at her expectantly.
“May I help you?”
“I’m Blythe Winters.” At his blank look she continued. “I’m Mr. Moore’s temporary personal assistant.”
“Oh, yes.” He grabbed a manila envelope and stood. “This file contains Mr. Moore’s personal and business schedule. You’ll need to have it down pat.” He walked around the desk and handed her the folder. “Laura had a family emergency, so she won’t be here to get you up to date on Mr. Moore’s schedule, so it’s of the utmost importance that you know this file from front to back.” He made his way down a long hallway, and Blythe had no other option but to follow. She was struck by the blatant sway of his hips, the tightness of his black slacks, and the flailing of his arms as he rattled off the different departments within Moore Industries.
Several doors lined either side of her, and Blythe snuck a peek inside the ones that were open. A copy room, lounge, and conference room were just few she had been able to make out as the flamboyant receptionist took her farther down the long, never-ending hallway.
“Mr. Moore is in a meeting right now but will be finished shortly. He’s instructed me to have you wait in his office.” He pushed open the double doors that were located at the end of the hall.
“Okay, thank you. I didn’t catch your name.” Blythe turned around, but the receptionist was shutting the door. Alrighty then. The office was massive, probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers could be seen from as far as the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the glass. The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as the rest of the place, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet in length. She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood being sprayed. She brought her cardigan more tightly around her chest. The rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were enough to give any one nightmares, and now she had agreed to work directly for him.
Blythe went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment. Shifting on the leather she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three she shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk. The standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of files, and a phone. It was bare for all intents and purposes, given the fact this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.
A Newton’s Cradle caught her eyes, and she stood. When she was in front of his desk she reached forward and grabbed the small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped into her back, and the sense of being no longer alone invaded her. Blythe spun around and came face-to-face with a very wide suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room. He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing moan. The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark blue eyes regarded her silently. In person he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching to brush the strands away.
“Do you know what Newton’s Cradle demonstrates?” His voice was deep and sexy, and she could imagine he sounded like that in the bedroom. Blythe found herself shaking her head in response. “It demonstrates conservation or momentum and energy by the series of swinging spheres.” Blythe didn’t respond because honestly she didn’t know how to. He took several steps back, and she finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath that whole time.
For several long moments he watched her, and Blythe felt like an insect under a microscope. The awkwardness grew inside of her until she started to shift on her feet.
“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that you shouldn’t touch others’ belongings, especially if they are your boss’s possessions?”
“On your knees, boy.” Dietrich gripped his riding crop tightly in his fist as Stellan sank to his knees. His sub had shed his clothes as soon as he ordered it, and the light and shadows mixed well with the contracting of his muscles. “Who owns you, boy?” He ran the crop up the hard ridges of Stellan’s abdomen and felt his dick twitch when Stellan’s muscles clenched, showcasing a prominent six-pack.
“You do, Master.”
Dietrich lifted the boy’s head with the tip of his crop under his chin. His submissive’s light blue eyes locked with his, and his dick hardened further. A glance down showed Stellan’s cock was at full attention.
“Are you hungry for me, boy?”
His reply was instant. “Yes, Master.”
Dietrich grinned and said, “Then take out my shaft and suck the cum from me like a good sub.” Stellan undid the laces of Dietrich’s leathers and pulled out his erection. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to take the head of his cock into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Dietrich let himself get lost in the feel of his sub’s tongue lapping at his slit, drawing his seed from him with so much expertise it rivaled an artist fine-tuning his instrument. “Take it deep, boy. Swallow me whole.”
Like an obedient sub, Stellan did as he was told. Dietrich ran the crop along his shoulder, down his side, and over the hard, muscular curve of Stellan’s ass. With a flick of his wrist he brought the crop down upon the tanned flesh. He loved how his sub tensed then groaned in his own pleasure. With pain brought pleasure, and Dietrich would bring forth an ocean of both this evening.
****
Blythe Winters adjusted her skirt as the elevator ascended to the twenty-fifth floor of the Cosmopolitan Building. The doors in front of her were a brushed copper color, and her reflection was fairly clear. She had twisted her dark blonde hair in a stylish, yet simple chignon. Taking a step closer to the mirrored panel she ran her finger under her eye to make sure she didn’t have any residual mascara. Blythe hardly wore make-up, and when she did it was only for special occasions. Today was definitely a special occasion. Her light green eyes seemed brighter today, but it was probably from the lack of sleep she had gotten the past week. The rain had caused the air to become damp, which in turn caused her two year old ankle injury to ache something fierce. She bent and absently rubbed it, willing her anger and despair over everything she had lost to become buried deep inside of her. Now was not the time to reflect on what she lost, not when she was about to meet one of the wealthiest men in America.
Smoothing a hand down her outfit only caused her to feel the bumps and dips of her oversized body. Maybe a size sixteen wasn’t all that bad, but after her accident she had ballooned out. Her once size two frame now seemed like a distant memory. Food had become her friend, her calorie-filling, weight-gaining friend. She couldn’t even stand to look at herself in the mirror, let alone get together with anyone she used to know before the accident.
Being a temp had its ups and down, this particular job being one of the ups. When she got the call last night about a position that needed to be filled immediately, she had jumped on it. Not only was she going to be working for Dietrich “The Bear” Moore, CEO of Moore Industries, she was also going to spend one month in Europe with him as his PA. The downside to it all was she was working as “The Bear’s” personal assistant. It was no secret that Mr. Moore was a real hard-ass and control freak, but Blythe could overlook all of that because despite this being only a temporary position, it would pay her bills and she’d get a trip out of it.
The elevator dinged when it reached its destination, and she took a deep breath. She was usually nervous on her first day on the job, as was normal, but today brought on a whole set of new hesitation. The doors opened, and she stepped into the lobby. A sophisticatedly decorated lounge stood in front of her. Dark leather furniture and masculine décor was no doubt professionally placed. A glass and chrome reception desk sat directly in front of the elevator, and Blythe moved toward it. The young man behind the desk spoke rapidly on the phone. He held up one perfectly manicured finger as he finished his conversation. After the phone was set back in the cradle he looked at her expectantly.
“May I help you?”
“I’m Blythe Winters.” At his blank look she continued. “I’m Mr. Moore’s temporary personal assistant.”
“Oh, yes.” He grabbed a manila envelope and stood. “This file contains Mr. Moore’s personal and business schedule. You’ll need to have it down pat.” He walked around the desk and handed her the folder. “Laura had a family emergency, so she won’t be here to get you up to date on Mr. Moore’s schedule, so it’s of the utmost importance that you know this file from front to back.” He made his way down a long hallway, and Blythe had no other option but to follow. She was struck by the blatant sway of his hips, the tightness of his black slacks, and the flailing of his arms as he rattled off the different departments within Moore Industries.
Several doors lined either side of her, and Blythe snuck a peek inside the ones that were open. A copy room, lounge, and conference room were just few she had been able to make out as the flamboyant receptionist took her farther down the long, never-ending hallway.
“Mr. Moore is in a meeting right now but will be finished shortly. He’s instructed me to have you wait in his office.” He pushed open the double doors that were located at the end of the hall.
“Okay, thank you. I didn’t catch your name.” Blythe turned around, but the receptionist was shutting the door. Alrighty then. The office was massive, probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers could be seen from as far as the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the glass. The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as the rest of the place, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet in length. She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood being sprayed. She brought her cardigan more tightly around her chest. The rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were enough to give any one nightmares, and now she had agreed to work directly for him.
Blythe went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment. Shifting on the leather she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three she shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk. The standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of files, and a phone. It was bare for all intents and purposes, given the fact this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.
A Newton’s Cradle caught her eyes, and she stood. When she was in front of his desk she reached forward and grabbed the small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped into her back, and the sense of being no longer alone invaded her. Blythe spun around and came face-to-face with a very wide suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room. He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing moan. The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark blue eyes regarded her silently. In person he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching to brush the strands away.
“Do you know what Newton’s Cradle demonstrates?” His voice was deep and sexy, and she could imagine he sounded like that in the bedroom. Blythe found herself shaking her head in response. “It demonstrates conservation or momentum and energy by the series of swinging spheres.” Blythe didn’t respond because honestly she didn’t know how to. He took several steps back, and she finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath that whole time.
For several long moments he watched her, and Blythe felt like an insect under a microscope. The awkwardness grew inside of her until she started to shift on her feet.
“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that you shouldn’t touch others’ belongings, especially if they are your boss’s possessions?”