Chapter 12: The Business Lunch
The midday sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining room, setting the crystal facets of the chandelier ablaze and painting the mahogany table with pools of liquid light. Cassie had set the scene perfectly: elegant place settings, a low arrangement of white orchids, and a silver ice bucket cradling a bottle of sweet Riesling.
“Elena, darling, so glad you could make it,” Cassie trilled, air-kissing the sleek, dark-haired woman who had just arrived. Elena was in her fifties, sharp-eyed and clad in a tailored pantsuit, a venture capitalist Cassie sometimes played tennis with. “I’ve been dying for you to meet my new project.”
“Project?” Elena asked, her voice smooth with amusement as she took a seat.
“Oh, just a little living art piece. Sasha! Sweetie, we’re ready for the aperitif.”
The door to the butler’s pantry swung open. Sasha entered, her bare feet silent on the polished marble. She was naked except for a wide leather collar, polished to a high shine, and a frilly white apron so small it covered virtually nothing. Her face was a mask of strained neutrality, her eyes fixed on the middle distance as she carried a tray with two chilled glasses. The powerful lines of her body, the dense muscle of her shoulders and thighs, were rendered absurdly, painfully vulnerable by the forced display.
Elena’s eyebrow arched. “Well. You weren’t kidding.”
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Cassie sighed, as if admiring a sculpture. “A former champion, you know. All that strength… just waiting to be given a purpose.”
Sasha set the tray down carefully. Cassie, reclining in her high-backed leather booth, casually extended a bare foot as Sasha leaned forward to pour the wine. The manicured toes, painted shell pink, found their way between Sasha’s thighs, pressing insistently against her.
Sasha’s hand trembled. A single drop of wine splashed onto the linen tablecloth.
“Oopsie,” Cassie sang, her foot moving in a slow, deliberate circle. “Clumsy puppy. It’s okay. Elena doesn’t mind a little spill, do you?”
“Not at all,” Elena murmured, her gaze traveling over Sasha with clinical interest. “She’s remarkably compliant.”
“Oh, she’s a quick learner. Aren’t you?” Cassie’s foot pressed harder. A faint, choked noise escaped Sasha’s throat. “Now, be a good girl and get under the table. We’d like our first course.”
The world narrowed to the dark, perfumed space beneath the table. The scent of Cassandra’s jasmine perfume mixed with the richer, spicier aroma of Elena. Silk stockings brushed Sasha’s cheeks. Cassie guided her head with a firm pressure on her collar.
“You know what to do, puppy. Make our guest feel welcome.”
The dialogue above was light, casual, a world away from the humid intensity below.
“So the merger is all but finalized?” Elena asked, her voice only slightly tighter.
“Mhmm. Just the paperwork. Ooh, that’s nice. She’s very attentive,” Cassie replied, then directed her voice downward. “Don’t be selfish, sweetie. Share.”
A hand—Elena’s—guided Sasha’s head to the side. The rhythms swapped, back and forth, a transaction conducted over her. The women’s voices wove above her.
“She’s so strong. You can feel it in her jaw,” Elena observed, breathing a little harder.
“I know. Like a beautiful engine. All that power, and it just… purrs for me.” Cassie’s tone was one of supreme satisfaction. “Lick her properly now. Make her happy.”
Time lost meaning. It was measured in gasps, in the slick sounds of her own mouth, in the creak of leather as bodies shifted. Finally, Cassie tapped her collar.
“Up you come. You must be starving, working so hard.”
Sasha emerged, face flushed, lips swollen. Cassie patted the silk cushion beside her in the booth. “Sit. It’s your turn to be fed.”
Elena watched, fascinated, as Cassie picked up a ripe strawberry from a porcelain dish. She held it just out of reach. “Open wide.”
Sasha obeyed. Cassie placed the strawberry on her tongue, then gently closed her jaw with a finger under her chin. “Chew.” It was a command, infantilizing and dominant. Elena selected a piece of cheese, feeding it to Sasha with the same detached precision.
“Such a good mouth,” Elena said, almost to herself.
“It has many uses,” Cassie giggled. She traced Sasha’s lower lip with a thumb. “But my favorite thing to feed her isn’t on the menu. It’s what she makes for me herself. After a big meal. You should have seen her yesterday. A masterpiece.”
Elena’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm. My big, nasty bitch. Aren’t you?” Cassie’s hand slid down Sasha’s abdomen, pressing. The familiar, deep cramp answered immediately. Sasha’s eyes widened. “See? She’s ready to perform. Turn around, puppy. Present for us.”
Shaking, Sasha turned on the cushion, kneeling with her back to the women, her head down. The exposure was total. Cassie’s hands parted her.
“Look at that, Elena. Isn’t it honest? No pretense.”
What happened next was slow, deliberate, and devouring. The women leaned in, their conversation dissolving into wet, open-mouthed sounds of enjoyment. They talked about her, to each other, their words muffled.
“--so perfectly base--”
“--the control, Cassie, it’s exquisite--”
“--tastes like victory, doesn’t it?”
For Sasha, the world fractured. The intense, taboo stimulation, the utter degradation, the two powerful women feasting on her most private act—it short-circuited her mind. The pleasure-pain coil in her gut snapped. An orgasm ripped through her, silent and devastating, leaving her limbs loose and useless.
She slumped forward, forehead against the cool leather. A low, continuous sound hummed in her chest, not a word, just a vowel of utter surrender.
“Aw, she’s gone dumb again,” Cassie said, her voice fond. She kissed Sasha’s shoulder blade. “It’s okay. You don’t need words. We know.”
Elena leaned back, dabbing her mouth with a linen napkin, her composure mostly restored. “That was… an education.”
“Told you she was special.” Cassie ran a possessive hand down Sasha’s spine. “We should do brunch more often.”
A discreet chime echoed from the intercom. Cassie sighed. “That’ll be the contractor for the new sauna. Always something.” She stood, stretching. “María will see you out, Elena. And Sasha, sweetie, nap time. You’re all done.”
Sasha didn’t move. She floated in a warm, hollowed-out void, the echoes of her own wordless babbling still ringing in her ears. The smell of their shared feast, of wine and fruit and sex and her own body, hung heavily in the sunlit room. As footsteps receded, she remained there, presented and owned, a testament to Cassie’s perfect, ruinous design.