“Take his cock out,” Master growls.
Jane's thin fingers fly to John's pants, tugging at the button to loose it from the hole. The zipper of his faded blue jeans slides down easily. His boxers are purple, and tight. She pulls his jeans down slightly, just so that she can see the top of his legs. His thighs are strong, powerful, manly.
His bulge grows even larger having this beautiful woman admire him. She pulls down his boxers to reveal the meat hidden within them. It smells like soap. The pubic hair is trimmed, but not overly so. Just enough that she won't gag on any hairs.
Jane takes his penis in her hand. It's heavier than she expected. It's not as big as Master's cock, but still larger than average. Her hand runs up and down the silky skin. Precum dribbles from the hole onto the head of his cock. She uses it to make her rubbing easier.
She opens her mouth and moves closer to him. John clenches his ass in anticipation, biting his lower lip and holding back a groan. Just having this sex slave's mouth so close to his cock has him on edge. Her hot breath is enough to make him twitch. She takes the tip of his dick into her mouth, and he revels in the hot stickiness of her tongue.
Slowly, Jane takes more and more of his prick into her mouth until she's deep-throating him. This is where John realizes she has no gag reflex. She stays there, breathing slowly through her nose. She looks up at him, with innocence and devotion. “Fuuuuck. I'm gonna need to get a girl like this,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her back before shoving his prick down her throat again.
Master has his cock out now. He's masturbating while he watches his whore be used by John. His eyes are trained intently on Jane's pretty mouth as it moves up and down John's thick shaft, faster and then slower. She sucks John's cock back down her throat, lightly grazing the skin with her teeth.
John pulls away urgently. “I don't want to cum yet,” he says, panting. He holds his cock until it goes soft again. Jane watches with amusement as this man frustrates himself for a chance to experience her pussy. She's never had that sort of power over Master. It feels nice, though she was enjoying his cock in her mouth. It was salty and soft.
“Jane, bend over the counter. Show your guest your pretty pussy.” Master's voice is rough and full of lust. His fist is wrapped around his cock still, though it's moving slower now.
Jane stands up quickly, moving to the counter and presenting her ass to John. It's dripping with her juices. Unable to help himself, John falls to his knees and breathes in her scent, nearly touching her quim with his nose.
His tongue slips into her folds, tasting her, probing her. It lingers on her clit, wiggling back and forth over it. Jane gasps and wiggles her ass in approval. John laps up every last bit of her juices, licking her inner thighs and everything.
Then he stands up, and his cock is harder than ever. Her positions it against her slit, rubbing it up and down to get it slick. “Oh, I just know I'm going to like this.” She's so hot, so wet, and when he sticks his prick into her depths, her insides pulsate and move. Her body reacts to him as each inch slides into her, slowly, ever so slowly.
“Please, give me it all.” Jane asks. Hoping Master won't punish her for that. She glances at him, but he's watching John slowly sink his cock into Jane's pussy. His hand isn't even moving against his cock.
John pushes hard for the last few inches. The tip hits Jane's cervix, and his balls slap against her slit. “Aaah,” she moans, gripping the counter tight. John's hands slide down her sides and onto her hips. He grabs them tight, digging his fingers into her skin as he slowly pulls his cock back out.
He slams his pulsating prick back into her, harder this time. Jane squeals with delight as she feels it slide against the sensitive spot inside of her. He answers her cries of pleasure with more strokes, shorter ones that move fast. Each stroke feels better than the last. His hands against her hips guide her back and forth, so that she's fucking him almost as much as he's fucking her. He's panting and breathing hard now.
Master stands up. John stops moving, watching him as he moves toward them. He takes Jane's hand and pulls her away from the counter, but John's cock stays firmly planted within her. Master presses his cock against her lips. She opens them, and Master stuffs her mouth with his big dick. It's slick and salty with his precum. He fucks her mouth, slowly, letting the tip of his cock slide down her throat with each stroke.
John doesn't move for a second, and then he starts to fuck her again. The men find a rhythm, moving in time so that when John pushes into her, Master does too. She moans and cries into his cock, the vibrations shooting to his balls. He grabs her hair again, using it to control her head movements.
They keep fucking her, harder and harder until John starts to feel his dick twitching. He pulls out, and Master pulls away from Jane, pushing her to the ground. Her face is only a few inches away from the guest's dick. She watches with interest as he pumps his cock, masturbating himself closer and closer to orgasm. His mouth is wide open to let out little grunts of pleasure.
His cum shoots out, thick ropes hitting Jane in the face. Some gets in her hair, some on her tits, and one thick rope gets right into her open mouth. She swallows it immediately before scooping the cum on her face onto her fingers and sucking that down too.
Master grabs her and forces her against the counter again. He enters her from behind, fucking her fast and hard. His cock is bigger than John's, and it takes a second for Jane to get used to his size. His nails bite into her skin as he growls with each thrust.
“Oh, oh! Master, I am so close to cumming! Please let me cum!” Jane begs.
“Cum on my dick, whore!” Master bellows, before finally his cum spills deep into her womb. It's so much cum that it runs out of her hole and down her leg, leaving her pussy sloppy. Her pussy pulsates and convulses on his cock as she cums, screaming loud enough for someone outside to hear. Her Master pulls out of her with a 'pop'.
Master and John leave Jane there to collect herself. She slides to the floor, still twitching from orgasm. She hears the front door open again, and then John says goodbye to Master.
Cum is still dribbling out of her when Master walks back into the room. He helps her to her feet and grabs the small of her back and her chin. He tips her face up and kisses her softly, tenderly.
“You did so well, my love. I'm proud of you.”
“Really?” Jane asks, elated.
“Absolutely. Now, come on. Let's go get you cleaned up, and then we can go get dinner. Your choice.”
Jane takes Master's hand and lets him lead her up the stairs to the shower, smiling the whole way. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.
I Gave It All
My Body for Money
Dalia Daudelin
I put the phone down. I could feel my lip quivering, the feeling of disappointment mixing with the excitement I'd felt when she'd said the word right away:
Paris
I had wanted to go since I was twelve. We'd had a trip planned, but then my dad got into a car accident. He was in the hospital, and then we didn't have the money. My parents fought, then. The money was too tight--not just for a trip, but when one expense showed up after the other, the money to go out, to go to the movies, it all seemed to dry up, like the Colorado river when it hits Mexico.
My parents realized that the fighting was going to hurt me more than splitting. I guess they were right, I can't ever be sure. It's gone now, mostly, but I used to spend at least one night a week--every night for a while--wondering, what if?
What if they'd stayed together, maybe they'd get past it? What if my dad hadn't gone out for a pack of cigarettes, or he'd been in the rightmost lane, and when the guy drifted over he'd swiped through open air? Maybe we'd be okay. Maybe my dad wouldn't have left. I don't know where he is any more.
I don't know what the details were exactly, but there's a new family friend, Mark. My mom wasn't really dating him, since they never slept together. They seemed more like close friends. He was independently wealthy.
I guess my mom didn't want to see my dad any more, not even one more day, so she didn't pursue child support and spent most of her time with Mark. I was almost eighteen anyways, so it would have run out pretty fast.
Mark was a pretty cool guy. He took my mom out on the town almost every night. I'd come sometimes, when it wasn't too fancy. I always worried on my parents' anniversary when I was a girl, eating fifty dollar plates, the strain of trying to keep my manners up and what if the money was so much that if I didn't like it, I was wasting the money. My anxiety would make my stomach sick, and then I'd dislike the meal, and it was an ugly cycle. I was glad when they decided I could keep track of myself for a night and Mark decided that almost right away.
At first it wasn't even a big deal. I don't mind eating alone, I can just watch the television. Only, eventually the same shows I'd been watching for a year, two years, they got tiring. I found new ones but it never lasted. I realized, then. I was just lonely. I wanted to be with my family, even if it was Mark and my mom was sucking up to him the whole time. And then nothing changed. It just got worse. Maybe it was my own fault but I blamed Mark.
So now I'm nineteen, and Mark noticed. My mom noticed. I don't like him. He's never there for me, not even sort of. And I am tired of it.
Back to Paris, though.
I knew the minute my friends asked me that I would have to turn them down. I don't have $2000, not for anything. I don't work, I don't really have any source of cash other than Mark. And he's not paying, I know he won't. My stomach churned. If I just asked him, he'd say no. I could ask and feel like I could say I'd tried in good conscience. Or I could ask my mother, and maybe she'd be able to come up with a good excuse?
I resolved to try to get my mother to help me. She was smoking a cigarette when I got to her room, a nasty habit to say the least. I tried to bat my eyelashes and play the cute princess but she was having none of it.
"Mommy?"
"Candice, what do you want?"
I laughed out loud. "Why do you say that?"
"I'm not a sucker, Candy."
"Ok, then. Dana and Carly are going to Paris. You know I've always wanted to go, and just, please?" I always found that the easiest way with my mother was not to oversell--just tell her what you want, and let her convince herself. It works wonders. I've seen Mark do it, too. At least I can't say that he doesn't know how to push a woman's buttons just the right way.
"I can't just agree to that, Candy. I have no money. Have you talked to Mark for help?"
"No. I don't want to bother him."
"Well, it's his money and I think he'd be happy to help. I'll talk to you about it tonight."
The time passed slowly, then. I tried to watch the television, but nothing seemed to be interesting. Everything led back around to the question, if maybe I'd finally get to go on my dream vacation. My mother came into my room, wearing one of her many fine dresses. They'd be going out, then, I supposed.
The dress was silk, framed her ample breasts with a deep, wide neckline that left just enough to the imagination. She had the cross that Mark had given her on their third date around her neck, a gaudy bejeweled thing. It fell between her breasts. She looked, honestly, incredible.
She sat down on the bed next to me and didn't say anything for a long time. I knew already what she was going to say.
"I'm sorry, babe."
I pushed myself back onto the bed and laid my head down on my pillow. I didn't say anything. My mother touched my leg and told me she loved me. Then she left.
I heard the car drive off, in the distance, until it was gone and I knew I was alone in the house. I could feel the tears falling down my cheeks, but I didn't want to cry so I pretended I wasn't. I had known from the moment Mark had the decision to make that I wouldn't go, I told myself. I had been only fooling myself to think otherwise. But even still, even with all those claims, it hurt.
I heard the door open, in a distant part of my mind. I didn't want to talk to anyone so I ignored it. Pretended I was asleep. Mark wasn't fooled. He spoke softly, tenderly.
"Hey, Candy."
I didn't answer him.
"Your mother told me how much Paris would mean to you. I know you're upset, I know you don't like me."
I still didn't answer him. He didn't know the half of it.
"But, honestly, we don't have much extra room in the budget for these sorts of things."
"You have plenty of money for my mother." He made a humming sound.
"I suppose I have more money than some, it's true. But..." He paused. I looked at him, and he had a look on his face that was weighing his next words carefully. "She makes it worth my while, Candice. Are you going to make it worth my while to give you the money for this trip?"
He put his hand on my stomach, rubbing just below my breasts. It hit me like a ton of bricks, what he meant. What it meant for me. I felt sick to my stomach. I shoved his hand off me and sat up, wide eyed.
"Get out of my room! You creep!"
It took all my willpower not to hit him as he walked out. He turned and gave me a look and a shrug.
"Well, Candice. I don't know what to say. There's no money for it, and I think you understand what I want you to give me to find money outside the budget."
And then he closed the door, soft and gentle like always. He always put up a proper face, to the world. Only I knew who he really was, only now--a scummy little pervert. I could feel bile and anger rising in my throat, and a silent rage. I wanted to take a baseball bat to the fucker's nuts. But instead, I went to sleep.
My dream was... disconcerting. I've seen my Mark change once or twice; he's a very fit man, and attractive for a man in his 50s. And in my dream, that certainly played well towards what I wanted, which wasn't to go to Paris, or to get his money. In my dream, I wanted to fuck him. My conscious mind kept shouting, No! Not that bastard
I woke sweating and aroused. I tried to go back to sleep, but first the heat and the arousal held me back, and then a panicky feeling hit me. I would never go to Paris. Oh, in the future, the chance could arise. I could get a great job, I could get a rich husband, I could win the lottery. But I knew, I knew beyond a single shadow of a doubt, that I wouldn't. I knew that I would never go, if I didn't go now. And as sick as it made me, I knew I had to get Mark to let me.
I thought I would sleep on it, but I couldn't. I looked at the clock. 12:30, it read, in blaring red digits. He'd still be up, working or reading. I got up and got dressed.
"Hey, uhhh..." I suddenly wasn't so sure if I wanted to go through with it. "M-Mark?"
Mark looked up from his book. He had a picturesque quality sometimes, like he always knew he was being watched and he was trying to get the posing just right.
"Yes, Candy?" He wasn't going to make this easy for me, I saw. He was going to make me bring it up.
"I was just thinking, I guess?" I tried not to make a face like I was sucking a lemon. "About what you said, about the trip to France?"
"Yes, I remember. Did you change your mind?"
I nodded.
"I want to go."
"Well, Candice, we discussed that we don't have that in the budget right now. Now, I could perhaps cut the Vegas trip a day or two short, and keep your mother off the blackjack tables, and we could find the money. But I don't want to do that for someone who I have a bad relationship with, Candy, and you haven't always been very nice to me--or, for that matter, to your mother."
I didn't say anything, just let him say what he needed to say. I knew what he wanted, and he knew I knew.
"Now, if you were to make some kind of a..." He patted his thigh, and I came over to stand by him. I wouldn't sit in his lap, especially not when he patted his lap for me like I was a dog. "A show of good will, then I could believe that you were willing to put those things in the past. You might even find that I'm a good... friend, you could say, to have."
My stomach was doing flips. He looked up at me, his eyebrow raised. I knew he was unsure if I was going to go forward with i
t, or if I was going to tell my mother the whole thing. But I also knew that he already had all of his excuses prepared, how I was making things up and had always disliked him.
And at the same time, I knew he would dote on me if I gave in. He had doted on my mother for months, even still made token gestures, but when we'd moved in with him, his eyes had become firmly set on me.
I couldn't decide, so I just stood there still as a statue. He made the first move, then. He reached around me, grabbed my ass. It was a casual motion, almost practiced, as if he'd done it a hundred times with a hundred girls--and for all I know, he had. I know he wouldn't be the first man to use his wealth as an aphrodisiac. I melted, finally. I would give him what he wanted, and he would give me, in turn, what I wanted.
"Ok, Mark. I'll do it."
"Why, Candy, what ever do you mean?"
"I'll l-let you fuck me." My voice was barely over a whisper. He smiled.
"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that, Candy." I had an idea, but I kept my mouth shut.
"I just-- can we get this over with?" His smile got wider if it was possible. I thought that was a good thing, but I was wrong.
"Of course, Candy, of course. I need you to get on your knees now." I got on my knees. The floor was hard wood and cold. "Take it out."
I unzipped his pants and his cock seemed to spring to life, under his boxers. I pulled the band down and revealed his cock. It was thick and not short, and still only half-hard. I looked at it for a long moment before I looked up at my Mark's face. He was staring at me, and we looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity before he told me what to do next.
"Take it in your hand, and rub along the shaft--haven't you done this before?"
"No, sir." I did as I was told, wrapping my hand around it and pumping up and down, jerking him off like I'd seen in the videos on the web. As I kept going his cock got harder and bigger, thicker, longer. I was afraid it wouldn't fit in me when the time came. He sighed and sat back in his chair, letting me pump his big cock.
Billionaire Heir (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 26
