A Grim Mistake

by Marc J. Riley

  Breath came in wracking pants leaving her voiceless and raw. Every nerve enlivened and enervated in sensuous pleasure as the arousal continued unabated.

  Denny Brice watched captivated. The sight of the slender blonde woman writhing in erotic agony on deck before him aroused him immediately. His cock swelled with a rush in painful response.

  Grimm had warned him the reaction might be severely strengthened due to his lack of skill and experience; that only with practice would his control gain subtlety and finesse, but he hadn’t imagined anything like this. Emilie was clearly out of control. Her shoulders twitched in spasmodic jerks and drool slid from her open mouth. Her face had become flushed and splotchy as the orgasm receded leaving her hair a tangled mess from her thrashing.

  A brief sense of regret flittered through Denny Brice’s dark soul; an unfamiliar pang of remorse at the severity of the beautiful girl’s reaction. Angrily he stamped it down as he remembered Grimm’s admonition that this control would only last for six-months. His plans had to proceed if he were to win this delectable prize for good.

  “Especially now,” he thought wryly, “that she is certain to hate me for doing this to her.”

  Brice knelt next to the girl as her breathing returned to normal. A sheen of sweat coated her face and dampened the sheer material of her blouse. A scent of powerful sexual arousal rose from the recumbent woman filling Brice’s nostrils and infusing him with desire.

  Emilie struggled to open her eyes. Looking up through slitted lashes she gazed in confusion at the man’s face. From far away she recalled his name and the circumstances and sat up in panic, gasping, “What did you do to me?”

  Brice looked at the sated woman still slick from her sexual ecstasy, “I gave you what you wanted.”

  “How?”

  “Like I said, Grimm is more than a mere magician. He is capable of true magic. He bewitched you. Laid a spell upon you…whatever its’ called, I don’t know. I only know it works, or at least I hoped it would work. And it does!” Brice finished with a laugh. “I’ve never seen such passion unleashed.”

  “You’re a bastard! I don’t believe any of this,” Emilie denied angrily.

  “Oh, would you like to have another go, you know, just to convince you?” Brice said lightly, playfully. “I know I wouldn’t mind. Watching you stroke yourself and seeing you cum as you twisted and fought it, God! It makes me so hard.”

  “Don’t you dare touch me!”

  “My dear, dear Emilie,” Brice cooed pleasantly, “I only had to touch you once to set the charm. From now on, all I have to do is concentrate on what I wish you to feel, and you will feel it.” Brice stared at her hard, his dark eyes boring into her skin.

  Suddenly the skin beneath her tight jeans erupted with a rush as if countless spiders were crawling all over her. “Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed thrashing her legs in fright her eyes growing wide with fear.

  “It doesn’t have to be pleasure I make you feel,” Brice advised, “but it can be.” As he finished speaking the dry rasp of the spider legs disappeared. Emilie sighed in relief, briefly, until she felt her nipples being caressed as if with a feather. Slowly stroking her engorging buds as feathery light brushes tickled and teased sending shivers of delight coursing across her silky skin. Her nipples had always been sensitive and this constant arousal threatened to send her back into orgasmic torture.

  “Stop,” she moaned, “Please, stop,” her head hung back exposing the soft tender lines of her neck.

  Brice rose to his feet before her, “I’ll stop,” he bargained, “if you’ll do something for me?”

  Fire raced across Emilie’s stomach as the delicate brushstrokes inched agonizingly downward tightening her loins with growing arousal as new moistness seeped from her blazing pussy. “Anything,” she conceded, her lips parting as the ephemeral contact neared her swollen and sore clit.

  Smiling, Brice lowered the zipper on his dark slacks. Hearing the rasp of the zipper, Emilie opened her eyes as Brice’s cock emerged.

  For a moment, she could only stare wordlessly at the sight. This bastard of a man, this prick of a human being, stood before her dressed in a designer suit, sporting a hundred-dollar haircut, with a body made muscular by hours in the gym, had merely an average size penis.

  It was almost funny, except it was beautiful. His cock stood entirely erect. The head was plump and round, sloped back into a shaft that appeared carved from living marble. Hot red veins stood out against his flesh throbbing as blood pumped through them.

  On the very tip, a drop of golden liquid stood poised in the dim light.

  Emilie’s mouth grew wet just looking at it. Part of her, the part that still saw him as a bastard who was manipulating her, wanted to strike him in the balls, make him writhe in pain on the floor.

  Another part of her, a part growing stronger as she stared at the most beautiful penis she’d ever see, wanted to take it in her mouth. Wanted to lick the length of it, suck the head, run her tongue along the soft ridge of flesh mushrooming around its’ circumference.

  She didn’t know if it was the astonishing orgasm she just had, or some effect of Grimm’s magic on her, or the birth of some wonton desire of her own, but she suddenly found herself kneeling in front of the tall man.

  His large hands came down to grasp her hair lightly, caressing her head as he guided her forward.

  Tentatively her pink lips parted, moist and plump. She kissed just the tip, the sweet drop of pre-cum coating her bottom lip. Her tongue darted forward, licking the sticky fluid, tasting the sugary juice, savoring it.

  Raising her left hand, she grasped the shaft gently, lifting it. Leaning forward her tongue emerged fully and she stroked from the base of his cock to the glans causing Brice to groan.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged.

  His hands ran through her hair as she started slowly stroke the velvet skin of his prick as her tongue slathered him with her juices. Up and down the shaft her tongue worked, circling the head as she laved that glorious rod.

  Her right hand dipped into his slacks and cupped his hairy balls, drawing them forth. Emilie sucked first one testicle into her mouth, bathing it in sweet spit, and then moved to the other. Brice’s groans grew stronger as her teeth grazed lightly on the satiny skin of his sac.

  Emilie worked her way back up his aching prick dragging her lips along the sensitive underside.

  Sliding her hand down to the base, she lowered her hot mouth over his cock engulfing a third of it.

  “God,” she thought, crazily, “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I can’t believe I’m sucking this bastard’s dick.”

  Brice’s hips pushed forward, urging more of his cock into her mouth as his hands drew her head to him.

  Emilie welcomed his stiff shaft deeper. Her head bobbing in rhythm with his thrusts as her right hand cupped his balls gently massaging their hairy weight.

  Brice’s groans turned to grunts as he hips began to buck faster. Emilie could feel his shaft thicken as he approached the point of no return.

  Disbelievingly, she found herself wanting nothing more than to take his creamy load down her throat. She released her hands from his balls and grabbed him around the hips. Using only her mouth, she pulled him forward until her nose sank into the tender skin above his cock.

  The growing girth of his head thrust at the opening of her esophagus. She swallowed, sucking him down, his glans lodging in the tightness of her throat.

  She moved back until just the tip was resting on her tongue, then plunged down taking him completely inside, sucking him deep into her.

  Again, she pulled back and dove, ramming his cock deep and hard. Brice’s hands grasped both side of her head as he guided her in a pounding rhythm.

  Emilie could feel her throat groan and protest each time his dick entered her throat, his cock pulsing. Wet, slurping sounds echoed in time to Brice’s harsh grunting.

  Suddenly his cock swelled hotly, as, with a solid shove, Brice drove his cock i
nto the back of her throat. Emilie felt his prick bulge as cum shot up his shaft.

  Brice held her head tightly against his belly as a thick wad of cum erupted down her throat. The fiery liquid burned as she swallowed around his prick. Again, another bolt of liquid poured into her mouth.

  Emilie’s hands pulled on his hips, drawing him as hard against her mouth as she could stand, wanting every inch, every drop of his juices.

  Brice came for what seemed like minutes as he emptied his aching cock in the gorgeous woman’s mouth. Cum ran down her lips and chin as it overflowed, oozing out around his shaft where her lips pressed tightly to his flesh. Sticky fluids dripped onto her blouse leaving wet stains marking her breasts.

  Emilie sucked and licked his cock clean as Brice came down, his cock starting to deflate in exhaustion. With a final lick around the reddened glans, Emilie stuffed his sated prick back into his slacks, zipping him up.

  “Holy shit!,” Brice exclaimed, breathing hard, “that was incredible.” His hands caressed her hair absently as she looked up from her knees.

  Rising, Emilie slid her hands up his chest under his coat and circled around his back, drawing him into an embrace. Looking up, her lips hesitated, nearly touching his as his eyes focused on her dreamy eyes.

  She pulled him closer. Her lips parted as they kissed, letting him enter her mouth, taste his own juice against the sweet velvet of her tongue.

  “Aagghh!” Brice grunted as Emilie brought her knee up in sharp quick jab, wracking his balls. The big man fell to the floor, cupping his hands over the pain.

  “Fuck!” Brice groaned, rocking back and forth, “why’d you do that?” Emilie straddled him and looked down, “Now we’re even.”

  Brice laughed around his groaning, “I guess I had that coming.” Brice tried to rise but found Emilie’s tennis shoe resting on his chest, pressing him back. “Hey, let me up.”

  “I’m leaving, buster,” Emilie warned, leaning over him, letting more of her slight weight rest on his chest, “and I better never hear of this again. Despite you, I like my job. I’m not going to let your testosterone-fueled lust drive me away. This is too good of an opportunity for me, you hear me.”

  “I hear you, I hear you,” Brice agreed quickly as his ribs began to creak under the strain, “mum’s the word.”

  “Good!” Emilie lifted her foot and stepped away toward the stairs as Brice rose to a sitting position. Nearing the steps, Emilie felt a hand slap her ass just as her foot hit the first riser, twirling around, expecting to see Brice behind her. Brice sat twenty feet away, flipping her brief salute as a devilish smile played across his face.

  Emilie’s eyes narrowed with a final glare as she turned and left refusing to rub the stinging pain until she was out of his sight. “Bastard,” she muttered, allowing a slow smile to escape.

  She found Kaori and Stephanie walking toward her, hand in hand like teenage lovers, as she exited the stairwell.

  “Where have you been?” Stephanie questioned.

  “Nowhere,” Emilie answered gruffly, turning them around and casting a hurried glance back over her should. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What’s that on your blouse?” Kaori queried, skimming a finger across the wet stains spotting Emilie’s peach silk and bringing it to her nose, sniffing. Her thin pink tongue emerged and licked her finger. “Mmmm, sweet.”

  For the next week, Emilie went to work apprehensive every day; fearful of another run-in with that Denny Brice. So what if she dressed with a little more care than usual, she’d always dressed nice for work, she reasoned.

  “That doesn’t explain the new lingerie,” she reminded herself accusingly. “Oh, would you stop it. He had his fun. He’s done,” she argued back, hoping it wasn’t really true.

  It had been a frustrating week. Each night she would go to bed intent on overcoming the geas Grimm had placed on her. Each night she fell into a troubled sleep, growing frustrated at her inability to bring herself to orgasm.

  Even her trusty toy, the ten inch dildo she kept in her nightstand, couldn’t bring her more than the briefest sense of relief.

  She’d tried everything she could get her hands on, even the showerhead just left her sore and aching with need. “Damn that Denny Brice,” she cursed.

  Friday afternoon Emilie leant against the copier waiting for the recalcitrant machine to spit out the final copies of the MacMillan contract. Lost in thought it took her a moment to notice the tingling in her toes. It felt like ants crawling in her shoes and across her stocking covered toes.

  Just as she was about to kick her shoes off, it stopped. “Hmmm,” she thought, “curious.” Before she could give it any more consideration, something brushed against the back of her knees and flitted away like the gentlest electric pulse. Briefly, it came again, quick and away.

  Leaning heavily on her arms resting against the copier, she felt a soft hand grasp her around both ankles. The invisible hands began to slide upward, caressing the sensitive skin across her calves, cupping the backs of her knees, and tenderly stroking the inside of her thighs. Tickles of pleasure shot through her thighs and across her skin at the ephemeral touch causing her to moan behind her lips.

  The ghostly touch stopped short of her pussy, leaving her unfulfilled. As her breathing slowed, her breasts were cupped in two strong hands. Thumbs ticked across her nipples bring them to painful erection as they pressed against the lace of her demi-bra.

  “That’s enough!” She commanded silently as the hands continued to stroke her taut breasts leaving her wanting more.

  Trying to ignore the incessant manipulations assaulting her, she left the copy room and headed down the hall for the elevator lobby. Her four-inch heels clicking on the travertine tiles as her ass swayed in the light grey skirt covering her ass falling inches above her knees reveling sheer black stockings. A white linen blouse stretched tight across her breasts, barely containing them as she jounced into the elevator and hit the button for the sixteenth floor.

  The elevator rose slowly. Leaning back against the mirrored wall and closing her eyes, she trembled as the hands caressing her were replaced with apparently moist, warm lips. She could feel her nipples sucked and tongued as the bell marking the floors dinged. Warm fire grew in her groin as the spirit lips kissed the underside of her tits, snaking down to her belly.

  The elevator stopped on ten and two older men stepped on discussing some arcane legal matter. They completely ignored her, which was a good thing as the ghostly lips descended to her stomach and licked her navel causing her cunt to flare with heat. Gentle hands grasped the backs of her thighs and pulled her forward, tightening the pressure of the lips gliding down her stomach.

  She didn’t know she’d moaned aloud until the two men ceased their conversation. Opening her eyes, she saw them looking back at her. “Sorry,” she muttered, just as the mouth suckling her skin reached the crest of her mound, spreading tender kisses along the mons, “Oh!”

  The elevator’s bell rang as it stopped at sixteen, “My stop,” she advised uselessly. The two men watched her step shakily away, grasping the wall for support she made her way down the elegant hall leading to the Partner’s offices.

  Having been up here only once before Emilie had to stop at the receptionist to ask directions. Explaining herself to the elderly woman behind the massive oak desk was increasingly difficult. The invisible mouth had settled against her pussy. It felt as if giant wet lips completely enclosed her cunt from clit to anus and a thick soft tongue stroked from her pussy hole all the way up to her fat clit. Another tongue slid inside and licked the inner folds of her labia.

  Her knees wobbled dangerously as she stumbled away from the receptionist, certain the old bat was wondering if she were drunk. Emilie struggled against the arousal rushing through her. Focusing on her anger, she stuffed the delicious bliss away as she stormed toward Denny Brice’s office.

  She brushed past his secretary trying to block her way and threw open the office door. Denny Brice sat
in his overstuffed black leather chair, eyes closed as if her were sleeping, except for the mischievous grin spread across his boyish face.

  “There you are,” he calmly stated, as if he’d been expecting her, his eyes coming slowly open to stare back at her standing in the doorway.

  “Christ,” he thought, “she’s gorgeous.” His eyes played across her noticing her tits struggling to remain inside that tight white shirt. The fitted skirt shaped her slender hips into enticing curves. Her blue eyes blazed beneath a tangle of blond curls falling to her shoulders. The anger evident in her heaving shoulders, fists tucked on her hips, and feet widespread, only causing him to want her more.

  “You can leave us, Shirley,” he said as his matronly secretary appeared behind the angry young woman. With a nod, Shirley eyed the aggressive stance of the intruding Associate and closed the door, leaving them alone.