A spiky black collar sits around the neck of a woman. A large silver chain links to the collar and continues out of frame.
The Boss: Part 3
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Digital creator and Instagram influencer Allyssa Leaton stands on a path in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is holding a large lesbian flag which obscures a view of her body. Her head is visible and she smiles into the camera.
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May 4, 2024

The Boss: Part 4

A couple engage in a room bathed in red light. One person sensually kisses the other's neck. The woman being kissed has her eyes closed in bliss.

🍑💦 This story is part of Tagg After Dark, an erotica collection exclusively for readers 18+. 🍑💦

This is Part 4. If you missed Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3, make sure you read them first.



“Boss comes first.” I climbed off Ollie. “Undress me.”

They stood obediently and slid the zipper down my spine. I could feel the restraint tensed in their body when they saw that underneath, I was completely naked. 

“Can I touch you, boss?” 

“Yes.” I pressed my ass into their hips. They reached their hands around from behind, palming my breasts and twisting my nipples. The current connecting my nipples to my clit flushed with heat. They ground into me, desperate to make contact with their own throbbing clit, craving the release I wouldn’t allow them. 

“Get in bed and lay on your back,” I ordered, pressing my body on top of theirs. Our skin crackled between us. “I’m trying to decide what I want you to do to me.” They scratched their short nails down my back. “I think I might sit on your face. Own you. Make you eat my pussy.”

They nodded vigorously. I climbed on top of them, pulling back the roll of my stomach and tilting my pelvis so I wouldn’t smother them, and then their tongue was wet and flat against my clit. I rocked my hips into their face, my tits bouncing, body burning.

“More pressure,” I directed. They pressed their tongue harder.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes. Good boy. You’re mine, you—” I gasped again, sharper this time, as their tongue grew more frenzied. I tipped my head back, hands pressed into the wall, heat collecting in my clit until it spilled through me.

“You gave your boss so much pleasure,” I said afterward, laying with my cheek on their chest. Their heart thrummed fast under my ear, and I felt them smile. “Now it’s your turn.”

I squirted lube onto my fingers. They moaned when I touched them, their junk warm and wet and needing under my hand. 

“I need you.” They searched for my lips, tasting me. Our kiss grew messier, wetter, as I touched them. Their labia first: slowly rubbing slick lips together, just how they liked. Eventually, I made my way to their clit. 

“You’re not allowed to come yet.” I scratched my nails down their stomach and teased their clit with my other hand. 

“I won’t,” they promised, trembling under me and pulling me closer. “Just touch me, please, boss.”  

I alternated rubbing their labia with touching their clit, pinching the insides of their thighs, tugging hard on the thicket of hair between their legs. Their pulse thudded everywhere: stomach, pussy, wrists.

“I want to come,” they begged, barely able to get the words out. I pressed my thigh between their legs, and they tilted their hips to meet me, relieved, grinding against my thigh in tight circles and then bigger, looser ones as their breath quickened.

I slid my thigh away. “Dammit, boss, please–” 

“You come when your boss says you come,” I articulated each word slowly, tasting the sharpness of each syllable.  

I returned my thigh, and Ollie grinded in sloppy, soaked circles, getting closer again to their edge. “Okay, baby,” I bit their neck right under the collar. “Come for your boss.”

“Thank you, boss!” They panted, the movement of their hips growing more frantic. “I love you, I love you!” They got louder as they finally shuddered and collapsed, their tight muscles slackening under mine.



Thank you for reading The Boss! Return next week for a fresh, new erotic offering! Sign up for our weekly newsletter to be reminded when each installment drops, OR become a Tagg Supporter to access each month’s story in its entirety when we drop Part 1.




Writer Eryn Sunnolia poses outside against a backdrop of lush green trees. Eryn wears their hair in a light brownish blonde bob. She wears glasses with clear frames and a yellow top with a brown corduroy button-up. She smiles as she looks into the camera.
Eryn Sunnolia
Eryn Sunnolia (she/they) is a queer writer living in Philadelphia, PA. Their writing has appeared in Electric Literature, HuffPost, Well+Good, Insider, and others. You can find her at erynsunnolia.com or @erynj_ on Instagram and @eryniswriting on Twitter.