Jim's internal clock knew the hour was up, so he began waiting rather impatiently for his Mistress's return. Part of him always feared she'd forget him... get distracted by one of her old companions out on the club floor, get caught up talking to Zac or dancing with some friends. Claire was the life of the party around here, and Jim was still so new and awkward. He knew he was forgettable... the quiet guy who sometimes quite literally didn't have a seat at the table. That was always annoyingly the case when he used to go meet with Harvey Dent. The man never had chairs in front of his desk like most normal offices. Jim always had to make a point of dragging his own over. It was a power play, Jim knew. Most relationships were, and his time at The Asylum brought that to the forefront.

Finally he heard the sound of shoes on polished concrete. But his keen ears soon realized a difference in the sound. It was not Mistress's heels— instead a more flat thunk of a sound. His sensation-deprived brain immediately went back to Harvey Dent... Gucci horsebit leather loafers. Not that Jim ever would know how to identify such... Barb had commented on them one time at a daytime event, and the words had stuck. Jim wasn't even sure his own shoes had a brand. Well, of course they did, but hell if he knew what it was.

His nerves were building as the sound crept closer. The mattress beneath his naked form fell away as someone's weight was applied to the foot. Their body was soon on his, fully clothed. He could feel the smooth, tightly woven fabric of a suit jacket and the cool silk of a tie against his chest, and he tensed immediately. He was about to sharply inquire as to this person's identity when his mouth was silenced by another, a prominent mustache tickling his upper lip.

Jim's arms fought to push the person away, but he remembered he was tied tightly to the metal bed frame. His legs began bucking instead, and he was terrified to realize there was a stiff cock against his thigh. His sense of smell kicked in next, a strong men's cologne that was peppery in his throat. He tried to break his mouth free to yell, but hands came up firmly to either side of his face, holding his own mustached mouth to that of his new companion.

Was it new? No... Jim knew those hands, even if it had only been a couple of months. Their softness, their specific weight, their transmission of feeling. Relief washed over him. It was her, though he had no idea what the woman... err, man... was doing. But their (his?) mouth tasted familiar and pleasant, and Jim found his hips arching into the hard cock of their own accord.

Strap-on, he assessed. But it feels so real. Nice length... girth too. What the hell are they going to do with it?

Jim's asshole quivered, and his body started resisting again.

"Shhh," he heard. The voice that spoke next was deep and commanding. "Don't be afraid. You'll still be a virgin by the end of the night. Just feel me and enjoy. I'm going to release your hands."

Jim forced himself to relax as his restraints fell away. His hands did shake a little as they came to rest on the brushed fabric of a suit jacket. It was a nice texture, and he found his fingers roving enthusiastically, trailing down to cup the ass of this "mystery" lover. Their cock gyrated against his, causing his own to respond with a flood of arousal.

"Touch it," they commanded.

Jim obeyed, reaching between their bodies to squeeze the generous silicone. Even through the fine suit, he could tell it was well crafted. He felt defined ridges and a ring separating the shaft from the head. He molested it as if it were his own, trying to imagine it that way versus it belonging to someone else. That allowed his own arousal to mount without too much doubt getting in the way. But as his own hardness reached a fever pitch, some back part of his brain kicked in and started getting off on the idea of it being someone else. His bucking was wild now, his breath coming in pants as he desperately sought friction against his own ache.

"Mmm, yes, pet," they encouraged in a rasp. "I love that you love this. Should I reward you with my mouth?"

"Yes... please," Jim whispered, grateful when he felt the metal belt buckle and silk tie begin descending his body. His hand came to their head to guide them in place, strands pressed tightly to their head and secured in tight knot. Their mustache grazed his sensitive head, and he jumped before giving into the new sensation. They manhandled his balls next, causing Jim to suck on a breath while his mind tried to work out whether this was pleasure or pain.

"I own you, commissioner..." a voice reminded him from below. "Don't forget that."

One long, tight suction on his cock... he could feel his cream being sucked through his package like it was attached to some kind of inhuman, mechanical pump...

Yes, Claire Greene, he thought. You do.

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