Bound by Delacroix

Slade

Slade Delacroix leaned back in his massive leather executive chair like a king on his throne, exuding raw power at the head of the polished conference table. The Delacroix Empire’s quarterly security division briefing hummed around him—threat assessments, budget forecasts, operational updates—but his expression remained carved from stone, sharp and unreadable. At forty, with his powerfully built frame perfectly tailored in a charcoal suit, thick brown hair silvered at the temples, and piercing green eyes that missed nothing, he dominated every room without raising his voice.

No one at the table had the slightest clue.

Beneath the heavy oak desk, concealed by the long tablecloth and the strategic angle of his chair, knelt Vanessa — one of the polished, ambitious socialites his family kept pushing on him. Her designer skirt was hiked up, knees spread on the carpet as she sucked his thick, veined cock with lazy, practiced devotion. Her full lips stretched obscenely around his girth, tongue sliding slowly along the underside while she bobbed with unhurried rhythm. The wet, muffled sounds of her mouth were barely audible beneath the murmur of conversation and the low hum of the air conditioning.

Slade didn’t miss a single beat. “Increase private aviation security by twelve percent,” he ordered, his deep, commanding voice steady as Vanessa hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper into her throat. One hand rested casually on the armrest; the other slipped beneath the desk to fist in her perfectly styled blonde hair, guiding her pace with subtle pressure. She moaned softly around his shaft, the vibration traveling straight to his heavy balls.

“Sir, the projected cost—” one executive began.

“Approved. Move on,” Slade cut in sharply, tightening his grip on Vanessa’s hair as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive head, licking up the steady leak of pre-cum. “I want results, not excuses.”

Vanessa was skilled—warm, eager mouth working him just enough to keep him rock-hard and throbbing—but she wasn’t what he truly craved. She wanted the Delacroix fortune and the prestige. Not the heavy leather collar. Not the complete, soul-deep submission he demanded. Still, her mouth served its purpose this afternoon: keeping his cock wet and satisfied while he ran an empire.

The meeting dragged on for another fifteen agonizing minutes. Slade issued directives with crisp authority, signing off on strategies while Vanessa’s tongue lazily circled his frenulum, sucking gently like the greedy little cocksucker she was. Her saliva coated his length, dripping down to his balls as she swallowed every drop of pre-cum.

Finally, still seated, Slade’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “That’s all. Implement everything by end of week. Dismissed. Get out.”

Chairs scraped back. The executives gathered their tablets and filed out, murmuring respectful goodbyes. The heavy door clicked shut behind the last one, sealing the room in silence.

The shift in Slade was immediate and brutal.

He shoved his chair back with a growl, both hands fisting hard in Vanessa’s hair. “You’ve been lazily teasing my cock for the last hour like a spoiled whore. Now open that fucking throat properly and take it all.”

Vanessa gasped, eyes watering, but her pussy clenched with arousal. Slade didn’t wait. He thrust upward, burying every thick inch of his massive cock straight down her throat in one savage stroke. She gagged violently, throat convulsing around him, but he held her pinned, nose pressed flush against his pelvis.

“That’s it. Choke on every inch, you desperate cumslut,” he snarled, voice low and filthy. “You love this, don’t you? Sucking the cock of the man your greedy family wants to trap into marriage while I couldn’t care less about making you my wife.”

He fucked her face with ruthless precision—long, deep strokes that made her throat bulge visibly. Saliva poured from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping messily onto her expensive blouse and the carpet. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing mascara, but she kept her hands obediently on his thighs, taking everything he gave.

“Deeper,” Slade commanded, yanking her head forward. “Swallow around my cock. Milk it like you’re trying to earn something you’ll never get.” Her throat fluttered and spasmed, the tight heat driving him wild. He held her down until her face turned red and her nails dug into his legs, then pulled back just enough for a gasping breath before slamming in again.

“Fuck yes. This is exactly what that pretty mouth is for—warming my cock under the table and swallowing my load. Keep dreaming about the Delacroix name, Vanessa. You’ll never get it from me.” His hips snapped faster, balls slapping wetly against her chin. “You’re nothing but a temporary hole. Now take every fucking drop.”

After several minutes of merciless throat-fucking, Slade’s balls drew up tight. He gripped her hair viciously, holding her impaled. “Swallow it all, you greedy bitch. Every last drop. Now.”

He came with a deep, guttural groan, flooding her throat with thick, powerful ropes of hot cum. Vanessa choked and swallowed frantically, struggling to take the sheer volume as he pumped every last drop straight into her stomach. Only when he was completely spent did he pull out, leaving her gasping, coughing, with strings of saliva and cum connecting her swollen, ruined lips to his still-hard cock.

Slade tucked himself back into his pants with calm efficiency and zipped up. He looked down at her wrecked face and trembling body with cool, detached satisfaction.

“Clean yourself up in the private bathroom,” he ordered, voice once again smooth and authoritative. “Fix your makeup, wipe my cum off your chin, and get the fuck out through the secret hallway. I don’t want to see you lingering around my office.”

Vanessa nodded shakily, climbing to her feet on unsteady legs. “Yes, Sir,” she rasped, voice hoarse from the brutal use.

She disappeared into the adjoining executive suite. Slade poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey, swirling it as he stared out over the glittering city skyline.

Another temporary distraction. Another willing mouth that still left him cold.

His family’s pressure was becoming unbearable. The latest scandal—a leaked video from an exclusive underground BDSM club showing him flogging and fucking two masked women in a very public display—had gone viral in elite circles. Tabloids and business blogs had picked it up, painting him as an out-of-control deviant rather than the brilliant, ruthless CEO he was. The board was furious about the reputational damage, and his relatives were circling like vultures, demanding he marry immediately to project stability and normalcy. They kept pushing Vanessa—the daughter of lifelong family friends—on him, blind to how repulsed he was by her transparent greed.

He needed a wife he could truly own. Break. Train. Claim completely.

Little did he know, the perfect candidate—desperate, resilient, and ripe for total surrender—was already working floors below in one of his subsidiaries.