Continental Breakfast
Chapter 1
    My name is Bella and I am the personal assistant to Mr. Pettifor. I am also his plaything and muse. Over the last two years, I have come to accept this role and cherish it. I take pride in my work and it shows. Mr. Pettifor is generous and for that, I am grateful. He lavishes me with gifts quite frequently and though they are not expected or wanted, they are a nice perk of the job. Working for Mr. Pettifor, I have been afforded a lifestyle that I never thought possible and I’ve seen and done things that other women can only dream about and traveled to places that others have only read about. I guess you could say I’m Mr. Pettifor’s go-to-gal. I attend all work functions with him and I am on his arm for various galas when needed, but our relationship otherwise is strictly from 9 to 5.
    This is the extent of my relationship with Mr. Pettifor and I’m completely okay with that. I’ve never needed or wanted more . I am monogamous to him even though he has never asked that of me because we never speak of such things. In fact, we don’t speak of much other than work. No, there are no deep and meaningful conversations, no late-night confessions, no meeting of the parents. There is simply mind-blowing and deeply satisfying sex. We share a symbiotic relationship that goes without saying. His needs are met and so are mine.
    My daily routine consists of attending and assisting Mr. Pettifor with meetings upon endless meetings regarding mergers and acquisitions, and all of the humdrum activities that are associated with Mr. Pettifor’s line of work. I keep a very close watch over his schedule and time, as well as seeing to his personal needs, in all matters. But the best parts of our routine are the mornings and they are what I treasure the most. When Mr. Pettifor comes over the intercom to tell he wants his continental breakfast, I know it’s not eggs and a bagel that he’s requesting. 
    I eagerly make my way into his office and lock the door behind me. I present myself in front of him as he peels my panties down and lifts me onto his desk.  This is when our fun and intimate interlude begins.
    “ Lay back, Ms. Darcy. I’m very hungry this morning,” he tells me, his voice hushed and needy.
    I spread myself out on his desk, open my legs and offer myself up to him.
    This morning he is in a particularly aggressive sort of mo od as he dives into my wet folds as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks, even though he had his continental breakfast just two days ago. His skilled tongue flicks at my hot clit while his fingers probe my depths.
    “ Give it to me, Ms. Darcy. I’m famished this morning,” he grunts as he pulls and tugs at my throbbing pussy.
    “Yes, Mr. Pettifor,” I squeak out.
    His hot mouth covers me just as I cum for him, spraying into his greedy mouth.
    “Yes, that’s it, beautiful, give it to me.”
    His words spoken so lustfully make my inner walls undulate with desire.
    “More,” he insists and I’m happy to oblige.
    He finishes off by filling me to maximum capacity with his perfectly sized dick and pounding into me slowly and methodically. He cums after several long and pleasurable minutes, and then peels his condom off, tying the end and tossing it in the trash while I put myself back together.
    “You’ll need to stop and purchase more Trojans this afternoon. Put that on your to-do-list,” he says without emotion.
    “Yes, Mr. Pettifor.”
    This morning has turned out to be a particularly good one. Three orgasms and a pussy stuffing that will leave me sore for at least 24 hours. I do cherish days like this.
    I’ve never been the jealous type nor has Mr. Pettifor given me reason to be jealous, that is, until the leggy blonde with an exotic name started showing up. At first, she would stop by once a month and I paid no mind to her infrequent visits. But lately, her visits are closer together. This week, she has presented herself three times.
    When I heard her impassioned orgasmic cries coming

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