Lesson Learned | By : LadySephiroth Category: Final Fantasy VII > Het - Male/Female Views: 1128 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Good Girls Do
Lesson
Learned: Part 1 of 4
Pairing:
Rufus/Elena
the.reunion.is@gmail.com
It was
maroon, a dry, dark shade, almost like blood, and looked vaguely familiar. The skirt
was typical, plaid, pleated and short, but not in a sluttish way. Fitted around
the waist a little too well, and sloping off of an ass that her uniform had
hidden quite successfully up until now. She felt incredibly ridiculous in it,
and it showed clearly, with the constant shifting back and forth, and the
nervous way her eyes glanced about every once in a while, before fixing back on
the floor.
Rufus sat
back in his chair, his gorgeous pale eyes fixed on her casually. He asked her
to wear it for an assignment. He wanted to flush someone out, and that someone
just happened to have a fetish for underage schoolgirls. His blood was
spattered on her nice white shirt, just across her abdomen in a fine spray of
color. It matched her skirt almost perfectly. He smiled at that. He’d fallen
for it, obviously. And who wouldn’t? With her hair pinned back, and her socks
slouching around her cute little calves, didn’t she just look the part?
“She was all
right boss,” Reno reported over the phone in his lazy drawl. “He was
just easy to fool – the rookie’s a bad actor.”
“Actress,”
she corrected under her breath, her cheeks coloring slightly.
“She had
this whole innocent thing going,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Standing on the corner with her school books, looking lost and
scared.”
Because I
was, she thought to herself. She wasn’t sure if she was on the right street,
and kept having thoughts about fucking up her first solo assignment. She kept
pacing, kept looking at the street sign, then down at her watch. Apprehensive. Like she was now. Waiting for Rufus to say something to her, instead of searching her
over with that piercing gaze.
“She did it
right though,” Reno was saying. “Two to the head, just
like I told her.”
Elena’s eyes
swept up from the floor and glared hard at that. Just like he told her? He didn’t tell her anything, except “If you fuck up,
you’re fired.” That certainly didn’t help; if anything it just made everything
worse.
“Did you
clean up the mess?” Rufus asked, smirking at Elena’s look of righteous
indignation. She could be gutsy, when she wanted to be.
“We’re not
all rookies, you know,” the redhead answered lightly. She wanted to throttle
him.
“On that
note, no mistakes Reno,” Rufus warned without changing his tone. The redhead
didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to; the conversation was officially over.
The way Rufus pressed the button on the speaker told her so.
“Good job
Elena,” he complimented, forcing her skin to flare up again. She clasped her
hands together behind her back and gave a submissive little nod of acceptance.
She looked too much the part, in his opinion. He could just picture her
standing there on the corner, biting her lower lip and glancing around
nervously, trying to figure out which way was up. It actually suited her quite
well. The girl had a good head on her shoulders, but she was so naďve and submissive. He could see where that
would be annoying to some people, but it fit her so perfectly. It was a natural
air she gave off, with that shy demeanor, balanced with that underlying tone of
eagerness, wanting to please. That wasn’t annoying. That was flat out sexy. And
he probably wouldn’t have even thought about it, if it weren’t for that damn
uniform.
“You’re
unusually quiet, dear.” She was startled by the observation, by the pet name
that accompanied it. She stared at him with unsure brown eyes, pleading for an
explanation. Rufus opened up a drawer, and began searching through it, in no
hurry to answer to her request. The world was his, and he’d tend to it when he
wanted to, and not before. “Cat got your tongue?”
“N-no sir,”
she faltered, watching his actions nervously. Rufus ShinRa
did not talk to anyone casually. He didn’t have conversations. He asked
questions, and got answers. He gave orders, and received confirmations. He
demanded something, and got results. Conversations were not a part of his
routine. At least, not to her knowledge.
“I have
something for you,” he announced, pulling a slender file out of the desk. He
placed it on the desk neatly, just at the edge, and sat there, waiting for her
to come and get it.
It took her
a few seconds to catch on, but she finally did, venturing over to his desk ever
so slowly. She looked like the little girl who was given permission to do
something important for the first time: awed by the privilege but unsure as to
whether she really should or not. He smirked at that. He really needed to stop
letting these images run through his mind. He was finding it hard to stay
focused, and that stupid uniform she was wearing wasn’t helping.
She opened
it, and began reading its contents. Every once in a while she would fiddle with
her tie, running her fingers over it as if caressing something cherished and
sacred. With each page she turned, Rufus found himself embellishing other
little habits of hers. Like the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was
concentrating. If she had a pencil, and were sitting down, she’d look like she
was doing homework. Hard at work reading something, getting a report together
before the deadline tomorrow morning. Or the way she pushed back stray strands
of blonde that were not pinned or clipped away from her face. Trying to concentrate, but still self-conscious. And then
she leaned over on one of her ankles, looking ever so darling, and he knew he’d
lost his mind.
It was the
uniform. It was making his imagination overactive. It was hating
him, and loving him all at once. The way the edges of that skirt caressed her
firm thighs when she moved was driving him nuts. And she kept messing with her
tie, stroking it, like she was giving it a hand job. And he’d bet anything her
little business shirt only glorified her breasts. She had a very nice chest;
he’d noticed on other occasions. Not the nicest he’d seen, not even in the top
ten, but nice nonetheless.
“And what
did you want me to do with this information, sir,” she questioned, closing the
file neatly and placing it back on his desk. He was right about the blouse –
too right. She was either wearing the world’s greatest push-up bra or he had
officially cracked.
“Cold?” he
questioned, his eyes fixed shamelessly on her nipples. He found that he
couldn’t help himself. There they were, just pointing at him, like a sign from
the gods. Not that he needed one.
She was
clearly confused, at his behavior and his comment. It was a little frigid in
his office, but she wasn’t the type to complain. She liked her job. She wanted
to keep it. “Sir?” She took a deep breath, and waited
for him to bring his eyes back up to hers. “What did you want me to do?”
“Actually
Elena, I’d very much like it if you would agree to have sex with me,” he
announced rather shamelessly, his eyes and voice equally direct. “Now. On my desk.”
There were
no words for the amount of shock she was in.
Rufus just
smiled, the way he did when he knew he had someone cornered. “You can say no of
course,” he assured her, but he knew she wouldn’t. If it was one thing Elena
was, she was always ready to please. And it would please him ever so much to
fuck her senseless.
“Come here,”
he beckoned, gesturing for her to walk around the desk.
She did as
asked, her heart pounding in her ears. Her boss just expressed a desire to
sleep with her. She didn’t exactly think that was quite normal, but ShinRa wasn’t exactly your typical workplace. She was clued
in on that a long time ago, and the gossip among the employees only confirmed
it. And now she was about to be one of those rumors, the kind whispered in
hallways and the lunch room as she walked past. She couldn’t even swallow.
“Nervous?”
Of course she was. She may as well have written it on her forehead in
florescent lettering. “I don’t bite,” he assured her, opening up another drawer
in his desk. “Hard.”
Oh God.
He didn’t
search this time, because he knew exactly what he wanted. There was a silk
handkerchief inside, a roll of tape and a nice, old fashioned wooden ruler,
along with some other office accessories. He pulled out each one and placed
them neatly on his desk, as if they were on display, and then closed the
drawer. He handed her the tape, casually, as if handing her a paycheck. “I need
a nice sized piece,” he informed her. “Not too long, but not too short either.”
She nodded, and went about measuring and tearing off the tape, then handed it
back to him.
The young
president then set himself about the tedious task of preparing for this game.
He gathered her wrists together in his hands – delicate things – and fastened
them together with the handkerchief. Not too tight, but enough to cause
bruising from the friction, should she try to move them. And he hoped she
would. Because that’s what the ruler was for.
And the tape? The tape was the best part. The tape kept her quiet. He kissed her lips
before smoothing the adhesive over them, making her eyes widen to the size of
planets. Oh yes, my dear, his eyes said to her. This is going to be a nice,
sound fucking, with no strings attached.
“On the
desk,” he directed. He thought it would be awkward, and just a little clumsy,
but to his surprise, she was rather smooth about it. She came out of her shoes
and sat on his desk, then scooted herself back and brought her legs around,
ankles resting against her hips. He quirked an eyebrow, watching her thighs
spread just a little, to allow room for a spot for her hands to rest. She
seemed to have read his mind. And she was flexible. That was such a bonus.
“Now then, Elena.” He liked her name suddenly. It was so easy to say. “If you misbehave,
I’ll have to punish you. And you don’t want that, do you?” She shook her head
no. Maybe it was the tape, or the handkerchief, or the welcome relief that came
along with the assurance, but he thought she looked rather cute forcibly
silenced.
The fingers
of his free hand started to travel, the tips roaming over the soft skin of one
of her thighs. Now those he liked. They weren’t fleshy, but they weren’t thin
either. Not muscular, but firm, yet still feminine. They were lovely. It was
amazing what a skirt could do for a woman’s figure, and what the right skirt
could do to a man in her presence. They crept up further, underneath the cloth,
falling between them in a light sweep upward, dipping across the fabric of her
panties. She gasped, earning a look from him, but his fingers continued their
exploring. Not that they needed to do much; even outside the cloth, Rufus knew
what he wanted. They slipped over the cotton with a hint of a tease, stroking
her through the barrier they afforded. She swallowed a groan, but when he
pressed against her clit, he was rewarded with a nice, high pitched yelp.
He didn’t
even bother with the look this time. With a flick of the wrist, the ruler
harshly whipped the skin of her thigh, causing another yelp, this time in pain.
Rufus smirked, his cold eyes fixed on her fearful brown ones. “I asked you to
behave,” he reminded her evenly. It was not his imagination. Bondage really did
make her gorgeous. He hit her again in the exact same spot, just to further
prove this theory. She tried to gasp, but it came out like a moan, sending
chills through him. The third time she cried out, but it was muffled by the
tape.
“Every time
you make a sound, I’m only going to hit you harder,” he informed her. “Learn to
be quiet Elena. Silence is golden.”
She nodded, and
was struck again. Another gasp, another strike, but after a couple of more, all
he got was a flinch. He smiled and rubbed the welts developing on her otherwise
flawless skin, smoothing them over with his palm as if it would make them
disappear. “Good girl.”
His hand
slid under her skirt once more, into her panties and directly between her legs.
She was nice and warm, but not wet enough. Patience was a virtue though, and he
had plenty of it, especially if he got what he wanted in the end. His fingers began
walking their own path along and inside her sex, retracing their steps
repeatedly, though never quite in the same way. It was so casual, effortless,
like he was sending out an email. And interesting, he mused, watching her try
her hardest not to make one sound, but knowing that she was going absolutely
insane.
And she was.
She was traveling to the edge of something so great, and his skillful touch and
thorough exploration was taking her there very quickly. She bit down on her
tongue, swallowing an urgent cry. He just sat there, smirking, watching her
inner conflict, knowing he was the master over her fate.
”Moan for
me,” he commanded. It was sweet, soulful, almost
musical. He found that he rather liked his overactive imagination today. Her
eyes begged for him not to stop, pleaded with him to drag it out until the very
end. She wanted to fuck, but she couldn’t say it. Yet her body language spoke
for her. The way she spread her thighs further apart, giving him much more room
to explore. Her breathing, her facial expressions, her
shivers. They were all signs. It made him unbelievably hard. No woman
should take to bondage like that. She was so naturally obeisant, so easy to
exploit. It was a beautiful thing.
Suddenly it
ended. He pulled away from her completely, leaving her hanging on the edge of
nothing. She whimpered piteously, eyes swimming with disappointment. It was
absolutely cruel to do that to her, but it didn’t last long. He pulled himself
out of the chair and up onto the desk, sliding between her open thighs easily.
She moaned faintly, pushing her hips against him to tell him that she wanted
it. He returned the thrust promisingly with a smirk, rolling his hips against
her, pressing his erection to her core. “Did you learn your lesson?” he questioned,
leaning in as if to kiss her.
She nodded.
Yes, she would be quiet. Very quiet. It would be just
between them.
“Good girl,”
he commended quietly, a hint of a purr in his voice. He loosened her bonds,
slowly, letting them fall wherever they would land. Then his mouth was on hers,
taking her breath away, and he was inside of her, sliding along her walls,
satisfying every inch of both of them.
She was so
tight, but that wasn’t surprising. Not very many lovers, as he figured; almost
untouched, but not quite. And gods bless her; she didn’t scream. Not one time.
No matter how difficult it got for her. Just little whimpers and helpless
mewls, and she always seemed to know just how to move underneath him, so that
he could experience more of her. Her actions were so forcibly controlled, so
focused that it was conflicting harshly with what was natural for her. So she
bit down on her tongue, her bottom lip, bit down on him, scratched, pulled, kissed – anything to keep her from losing it. He wanted her
quiet, so she would stay quiet. She was good at following orders. All Turks
were. It was a constant Rufus knew he could rely on, a subtle flaw in all of
them he often enjoyed exploiting. Like now.
There would
be tiny half moons indented into his shoulder from her nails, little scratches
on his back from her constrained affection, but he hardly dwelled on it. Their
sex was too intense, a shrine of short-lived passion and fervent dedication. It
was driving, relentless, a true fucking, bruising and raw, walking that thin
line of pain and pleasure perfectly. She was so slick with him, her pulse
throbbing just as hard as her insides, and he could literally feel her heart
pounding beneath her skin. A few moments of prolonged agony disguised as
ecstasy, a broken sob, and when she came with the hoarse whisper of his name,
he wasn’t too far behind.
He lingered
inside of her for a moment, watching her try to calm her breathing. She was
flustered, panting so heavily, resplendent in the aftermath of their friction.
He kissed her clavicle, smoothed his hands down her thighs to warn away her
shivers. Ah yes, that was quite satisfying.
He let her
up, gave her a little time to straighten herself out, before he helped her off
the desk. Poor thing had been crying – was it that good? He smiled and graced
her with a kiss. He was quite pleased with that knowledge. “Thank you Elena.”
She just nodded, eyes lowered to the floor. Submissive, as
usual. He picked up the file he instructed her to read, and handed it to
her. “Take this to Tseng’s office,” he ordered.
She took the
folder, heading to the door without a word. Her footsteps were neither quick
nor slow, but paced. As if nothing happened. She came in to report after a job
as usual, accepted what he gave her, and took her leave. She was such a good
girl.
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