Take All of It September 2019

by Scarlett Skyes

  I coughed a little. There was something in the iced tea I wasn’t used to, something a little… spicy for want of a better word. Not bad, but, I simply couldn’t place the flavour.

  “I went to college with Hugh Jones, you know,” said Mr. Rawlings.

  “Hugh Jones, as in the President of The Family Values Foundation?” I beamed.

  This was almost too good to be true. If I did a good job here, feedback would go straight up to the one person who could probably single-handedly grant or deny my scholarship.

  “The very same. We’ve always looked out for each other, so when Laura told me you were up for one of their scholarships, I had a look through their guidelines.”

  I took another gulp of my drink. Even though it was ice-cold and so refreshing, it brought a flush to my cheeks.

  “They’re pretty… extensive, huh?” I asked, feeling like the coolness of the drink was making my tongue a little numb.

  “Yes, it looks like they leave no stone unturned. They only want the most untouchable perfect little princes and princesses to get all that money. Top up?”

  “Yes please.” This iced tea was addictive.

  Mr. Rawlings topped me up from the jug and then settled into his half-his/half-mine spot, draping his arm over the back of the couch where my shoulders would be if I wasn’t sitting on the front fringe. I sipped my drink nervously, but there was something about this tea that was quickly taking the edge off the awkwardness. I shook my head a little as if to clear the cobwebs out.

  “They don’t simply want their little princesses to be perfect, do they?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “They want them to come from the perfect families, have the right upbringing, all that. They want your immediate family to be almost as perfect as you, don’t they? The last thing they want, in the entire world, is the possibility that they award the scholarship to somebody and end up having to deal with some kind of scandal.”

  “Ummm… yes, I suppose that’s right.” The application information for the scholarship had gone into great lengths about the expectations of their recipients and close family. I was having trouble remembering the exact wording right now though, so took a big gulp of my drink to try and give myself a moment to recall everything.

  It didn’t work though, after finishing my second glass, I felt more lightheaded than ever.

  “You’ve worked so hard, haven’t you, Valencia?”

  “Yeah…” my voice sounded like it was coming from another room.

  “You grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak, but always kept your nose clean.”

  Mr Rawlings tapped my nose with one of his fingers, and my skin tingled strangely where he touched my skin so I was left twitching it like a genie for a few seconds afterwards. I put my glass down on the coffee table and brought my hand to my forehead as if checking my own temperature.

  “I feel a little funny,” I said.

  “Sit back, Valencia.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, I did what he suggested. He didn’t move his arm, so I ended up resting my head on his shoulder. It should have felt weird, but all I could feel was relief to have his steady body to lean against. The heat of him was comforting and I only startled a little when his hand casually dropped on to my shoulder as if he was my boyfriend.

  “Such a pretty name, Valencia,” he said softly.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, confused by how happy-squirmy his praise made me feel.

  “Not a common name around these parts, how did your parents decide on it?”

  “Ummmm… I think they saw it on a travel brochure for Spain… they never went, but they brought Valencia to them!”

  “That’s nice. They must love you a lot, must really want you to get that scholarship and go be the first in your family to make it to college, huh?”

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Well, I think there’s something you need to see.”

  Mr. Rawlings reached to the other side of him with his free hand and picked up a remote I hadn’t noticed before, pointing it at the TV, which lit up to show an image of my sister. Mr. Rawlings pressed another button and the video started playing.

  On the screen I saw Laura give a big thumbs up and then bring a cigarette to her mouth, flick a lighter and start puffing away. I didn’t know she smoked.

  Laura’s friend, Shelly, was there too and they seemed to be finding everything totally hilarious, even though they were only saying really dumb things. The scene changed to what looked like security footage of Laura at Mr. Rawlings’ door handing over a little plastic bag of something to some guy and taking some money in exchange.

  “What’s happening here?” I asked.

  “That’s your sister, possessing, using and distributing a controlled substance.”

  “Huh?”

  “In other words, she’s a drug dealer in the eyes of the law.”

  My heart seized up and I tried to stand but Mr. Rawlings’ hand on my shoulder held me down.

  “I’m afraid I have no choice but to tell Hugh about this. Unfortunately, it looks like that scholarship is going to be given to somebody else. This alone is enough for that, but it’s not even the worst of it.”

  “Oh no… please don’t, Mr. Rrrrr…”

  The scene on the TV switched again and my jaw dropped. My sister was naked, spread wider than I thought she had the flexibility for, filmed from the perspective of whoever was hammering his erect penis in and out of her.

  I looked away but Mr. Rawlings grabbed me by the chin, his fingers mashing my face into a fish-lips pose, and made me watch my sister have sex on screen.

  “I’m such a good slut for you, Daddy!” my sister screamed, her voice shaking with every impact.

  “Can you imagine sitting in that room while Hugh and his board review this evidence,” asked Mr. Rawlings.

  “Oh no… oh no, oh no…”

  My world was falling apart, one stroke at a time, on screen.

  “Everybody will be so… disappointed, to say the least. Your sister in jail, you stuck here instead of going to college. What will your parents do?”

  Mr. Rawlings shifted closer so his thigh touched mine, and my mind was swimming so much that without his hand roughly holding my head still, I suddenly felt like I might have slumped over. Even so, the sighs and sounds of my sister’s sex tape were swirling in front of me.

  “I’ve got some good news, though. There is one way out of this.”

  My vision cleared a little as I grasped at straws. “Hmm? How?” I mumbled.

  “It’s so simple. Isn’t that good?”

  “Yeah… what is it?”

  “All I need you to do to make all this go away is… for you to be very nice to me.”

  My brow furrowed. “But… I’m nice to everybody?”

  “But I need you to be especially nice to me.”

  On screen what seemed like endless spurts of semen were jetting out on my sister’s face, her tongue lapped all around her mouth greedily seeking as much of it as she could get. My mind couldn’t even let me picture what it would be like, as Mr. Rawlings said, to sit in that room with Hugh and the FVF board as this video was played.

  “But… how?”

  “Well, I think we should start with a kiss.”

  An embarrassed blush forced its way through my haze of emotions and flared on my cheeks. I’d always fallen back on the excuse that I had to concentrate on my studies and the strict criteria of the scholarship I was gunning for, but my friends said I was simply painfully shy about this kind of thing. They were right.

  Now, I didn’t have the excuse of the studies or the scholarship. Indeed, the scholarship apparently depended on “this kind of thing” so all I was left with was my shyness, and this intense fog in my head. It was too difficult to think!

  “I don’t know…”

  “Don’t you want all this to be better?” Mr. Rawlings nodded at the television.

  “Yes…”

  “Then be a good girl.�
�

  Mr. Rawlings slowly leaned in, pulling my face away from the TV so I was turned towards him. I instinctively resisted a little, but it only re-fish-lipped my mouth as if I’d learned about kissing from a cartoon set in an aquarium.

  The closer he came, the harder my heart beat and the more I hyperventilated. This wasn’t supposed to be how my first kiss went. A fraction of a second before his lips touched mine, I started to protest.

  “W-”

  It was too late, he was kissing me. My first kiss would be in the record books forever as with a guy maybe triple my age who I was supposed to be babysitting for, while a video of my sister covered in sperm played in the background.

  Our lips finally parted, but my heart sank when I saw Mr. Rawlings’ stone-faced expression. He didn’t look satisfied. Not even close.

  “Maybe you should go. I think I need to bring this to Hugh’s attention straight away. Tonight. You’re clearly not interested in making this right so you can get that money.”

  I blinked rapidly, my vision further blurred by tears welling up. “No! Please, I’m sorry! I was… just… I was surprised, I’ve never done that before, I can do it!”

  Mr. Rawlings looked skeptical. “Well… OK. Let’s give this another try, but you promise you’ll be my good little girl?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Promise what? Say it, Valencia.” A smouldering hunger burned in his eyes as he watched me struggle.

  “I… p-promise I’ll be your good little girl.”

  Mr. Rawlings smiled like a Caesar of Rome watching his soldiers parade the confiscated treasures of war for him. He leaned in, tilted my face towards him again with a finger on my chin and kissed me slowly, savouring my submission.

  I had no idea what I was doing, but I tried to offer no resistance at all, just let him kiss me as much as he wanted. Without ever breaking the kiss, he worked his lips harder against mine, pulling me deeper and almost stealing my breath away.

  My brain was so foggy already, with this added breathlessness, I was barely aware of what was happening, other than this treacherous voice from deep inside that seemed to be saying ‘wooooooooow!’ with a strange enthusiasm. Every part of my body felt heavy, and when I opened my eyes, I realized that weight wasn’t just my own limbs, somehow Mr. Rawlings had pushed me until I was lying down on the couch and he was lying on top of me, legs on either side of mine, one arm around my shoulders, pinning me underneath him as he kissed me like he owned me.

  A strange tingling sensation was traversing my skin, making my heartrate soar. It felt so incredibly good that I whimpered into Mr. Rawlings’ kiss.

  It was like an angel’s feather was brushing against me, kind of tickling me, but mostly making me feel a subtle kind of pleasure I never knew existed before. My legs shook when it touched my thighs, I squirmed when it explored my navel, circling my bellybutton a few times.

  My world came crashing down when I realized it was no angel comforting me in my moment of trial, it was Mr. Rawlings doing that to me with the tips of his fingers. He wasn’t only stealing this never-ending kiss, he was touching me too. That wasn’t part of the agreement was it? My brain wouldn’t work properly… did I agree to that?

  It didn’t seem like something I would do. None of this did… but touching me like that? Even if it did feel mind-alteringly good, if he was touching me on my navel and that high on my thighs, it meant he was pushing up my skirt, pushing up or unbuttoning my shirt.

  This was too far! It was all happening so fast… or so fast for me, with my mind strangely mired in quicksand at the moment.

  Somehow, I managed to turn my head to the side, gasping my first breath of air through my mouth in who-knew-how-long. Mr. Rawlings didn’t seem to think that was the end of the kiss though. Instead, I felt his lips, his rough stubble, on my tender neck, and the tingling sensation was stronger there than my legs or belly.

  I tried to tell him to stop, but all that game out was a wordless squeal of pleasure. It wasn’t fair! I couldn’t make my body or my mind do what I wanted through this haze of bliss. If I had been hiding in the room somewhere, behind the curtains for example, and I heard another girl make that noise, I would have thought she had never been happier.

  Those lips! The feel of them on my skin was making me writhe as if I was simultaneously trying to get away and drive myself closer to him. One of his knees pushed between my legs, then the other, and I felt his hips on the inside of my thighs a moment before something big and hard in his pants was pushing right at the crotch of my panties.

  My eyes flew open, only to see a room that was spinning around me, I quickly shut them again and gasped. Mr. Rawlings moved his mouth back to mine as if I had invited him, cutting off any protest I might have been able to muster.

  There was no way I had agreed to this… I definitely couldn’t remember agreeing to this. This was more than a kiss by any definition. The older man’s hard cock was grinding against my panties, and they were sliding against my pussy in a way they never had before.

  It was hard to tell… but I would have sworn that underneath the cloak of heat, tingling and pure perfect pleasure, my pussy was undeniably… wet. I could barely even think it. I was supposed to meet my first boyfriend in college, to save everything for him, tell him he was the first to make me feel this way. Yet… here I was with a sopping wet pussy and a man old enough to be my father, whom I had just met, was responsible.

  Mr. Rawlings’ hand grasped the hair at the back of my head, squeezing his fistful hard enough that it should have hurt but it barely registered on the pain index for me. Using his grip, he detached from our kiss and bit my earlobe lightly for a second before whispering. “You’re such a fucking sexy little bitch, Valencia.”

  “Please… I can’t do this…” I panted.

  Mr. Rawlings snickered a little and yanked on my hair, making me look up and away from him as if I was exposing my neck for a vampire. Instead of biting me, I felt the pressure of his hard cock lessen against my sex, but my relief was only momentary, as his hand cupped me down there and I felt his fingers at the edges of my panties at either side of my crotch.

  I tried to close my legs, but he was still between them, so I got nowhere other than giving him a playful little squeeze. I moaned at the feel of a man’s fingers so close to my most carefully guarded treasure, then blushed furiously with embarrassment at the moan.

  A second later, Mr. Rawlings’ fingers were in my open mouth, wet with my own juices. I tried to force them out with my tongue, but only succeeded in sampling the flavour of my own body’s aroused betrayal.

  “Taste that? That tells me you can and will do this.”

  Mr. Rawlings smeared my own saliva and pussy juices around my lips and cheeks, then slapped me lightly a few times as if I was a woman from a 1950s movie who had fainted. Suddenly his weight was off me, and a moment later I, too, was weightless.

  My eyes fluttered open but the world was even more swirly than before. I felt like maybe I was being carried to a different room, or a different universe, it was hard to tell. Next, I was being lowered somewhere soft, but there were cameras all around. Had I finally realised my secret dream of becoming the president? Was I at a press conference?

  “You want that money, right Valencia?” Mr. Rawlings said.

  David. His name was David. If I was the president, then I guess he was my Camp David. I giggled in an extremely unpresidential way.

  “Yes, I want the money!”

  “And you want to make me very happy, don’t you?”

  What kind of question was that? I wanted everybody to be happy. “Of course!”

  “Good girl.”

  His praise washed over me like a warm blanket. I smiled the smile of the truly satisfied and closed my eyes contentedly as the ground under me seemed to shift with Mr. Rawlings weight.

  With gentle grips on my ankles, my feet were pulled up until they almost touched my butt and when he let go, my knees flopped to each side, leaving my legs s
pread wide. I tried to close them, for modesty, but Mr. Rawlings easily overpowered my feeble efforts by gently pressing down on my knees with the palms of his hands until I gave up.

  Once I was still again I felt him move to my side and lay the palms of his hands on my flat stomach. He gently stroked from side to side as if he was moving his hands over a keyboard, playing me like a master pianist.

  When one hand crossed over my bunched-up skirt and touched the waistband of my panties, the other cupped my breast. That was another line crossed, and was a gentle reminder of what was happening. I wasn’t the president, he wasn’t my boyfriend or husband… he was way too old to be groping my breast.

  I forced my eyes open again and saw that Mr. Rawlings was kneeling next to me, we were on a bed surrounded by cameras. He was… he was naked, and his cock was absolutely rock hard, standing up stiff and straight as if this pianist had an unhealthy relationship with his piano.

  My limbs moved so slowly, but I tried to push his hands off my small breasts. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, he had moved on, only to move back when the coast was clear, completely unhindered by my efforts to protect my modesty.

  “I can’t believe you’re all mine, Valencia. I knew I had to have you, but I didn’t know you’d be so easy.”

  “No…” I mumbled.

  “Yes, you are. And you need to stop squirming so much, pet, let everybody get a good look at how perfect you are.”

  Mr. Rawlings rolled me until I was on my side facing away from him, then folded one of my arms behind my back, then rolled me the other way and did the same on the other side. Now I was lying on my own arms and I couldn’t figure out how to untangle myself.

  With free reign over me, Mr. Rawlings took his time undoing the buttons of my shirt, then peeling each side away to reveal my petite body. I owned a single bra that clasped at the front, and today was the day I happened to be wearing it.

  After gently stroking the upper swells of my breasts that my bra left exposed, he spotted the clasp and unhooked it. I felt the relief of the underwire releasing and then the cool air on my skin.