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His little slut ached for his touch. Life had just gotten in the way, and they'd only been able to steal a few chaste moments together. On the most part, they were limited to online communication. Through the e-mails, the instant messages, he kept her arousal simmering. A week had passed, and still he'd not given her permission to cum. Her phone rang with that song she reserved for him. Despite the late hour of evening, she answered the call with her standard professionalism. Just the sound of his voice in her ear increased the dampness between her thighs. They chatted for a few minutes, talking about work and politics and so on. He turned the conversation by asking her what she was wearing. "Shirt, underwear, and socks, Sir."

She'd been begging all week for permission to do something, anything, to address her desire. Even if he still denied her release. Even if he denied any sort of penetration. But even those compromises were denied. Despite her need, her discomfort, she obeyed his command. Now, his command was to touch his pussy without removing her panties. He could hear the change in her breathing, the change in her voice when he made her answer his questions. He finally instructed her to pull her panties aside, and slip a finger inside, then amended his instruction. "You know my dick's bigger than a finger. Put two in there."

She whimpered, feeling very much the slut she was for him. She complied with his command, his pussy gripping her fingers painfully. He coaxed her so deliciously to climax. "Thank you, Sir," she said breathlessly. He chuckled; before bidding her good night, he gave her more to envision as she drifted off to slumber. She licked her fingers clean before falling asleep.

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