Degradation

by Stylo Fantome

  “Alright. What do you want to know first?” he asked. She laid back down.

  “How it all started, start there. What were you wearing. What were they wearing,” she suggested.

  “Awfully detailed.”

  “I’m a very visual person.”

  “Let’s see. I met them for dinner. I was wearing clothing. One of them was wearing a ridiculous dress, you would have loved it – short, slutty, only covered one shoulder. The other one was more demure, some fancy shirt, and tight pants,” he described. Tate laughed.

  “You were ‘wearing clothing’, huh? You’re a horrible story teller. Do these girls have names?” she asked, propping her foot up on the island top.

  “Probably,” was all he said, and she laughed.

  “Terrible. So okay, we’ll say Thing One is Slutty One - right up your alley. Thing Two, Demure Temptress. How long did it take you to talk them in to coming home with you?” she asked. He snorted.

  “I didn’t talk them in to shit, Tate. We had appetizers, I told them I was going home, they asked to join me. Demure Temptress sucked my dick during the cab ride to my hotel,” Jameson stated.

  “Oh my. Lucky cab driver,” Tate whispered.

  “Once we got in to my room, I sat on the balcony while they took turns blowing me. Slutty One couldn’t wait any longer, and climbed on top of me right out there,” he continued.

  “What was Demure Temptress doing?” Tate asked, staring up at the ceiling.

  “She went back in to the room, got naked. Stretched out on the bed. Played with herself,” his voice was soft. Tate could feel her breathing pick up.

  “Did you like that?”

  “Very much so.”

  “What else?”

  “I carried the slutty sister in to the room, laid down on the bed between them. You can touch yourself, Tate, it’s okay,” Jameson said when her finger began to trace lines above her bikini. She laughed.

  “I don’t need your permission,” she pointed out.

  “Wrong.”

  Her hand dived underneath the bathing suit material and she closed her eyes. She brought her other leg up so both knees were in the air, the balls of her feet balanced on the edge of the island. Sometimes she wondered who was better at touching her – herself, or Jameson. Her fingers could thread her like a needle; precise, knew exactly how to touch. Jameson was more like silk; smooth, finessing everything. She began to pant.

  “What else?” she moaned.

  “Fuck, Tate, what did I do to deserve you?” his voice sounded strained. She chuckled.

  “Nothing, yet. Keep talking, please,” she begged, her other hand joining the first as she gently eased a finger in to her opening.

  “The demure sister rode my cock for a while, while slutty girl let me see how many fingers I could fit inside of her. Then they traded places,” he continued. Tate moaned, pushing her hips in to the air. She dragged one hand away, brought it to her hair and pulled a little.

  “Get to the part with the ropes,” she gasped.

  “Tatum, naughty girl, you want me to tie you up, don’t you?” Jameson asked.

  “I want you to do whatever you fucking want,” she said, and then cried out, pushing two fingers inside.

  “Good answer. I didn’t have any rope, I had to use the slutty one’s tights. I tied her down flat to the mattress, to the legs of the bed. Bent the demure one in half right beside the other girl and fucked her as hard as I could.”

  “Oh my god, did you talk? Did you talk to them the way you talk to me?” the words rushed out of Tate, her voice sounding like she was almost whining. His story, the picture he was painting, was getting her so hot, she almost didn’t need her hand to help her get off.

  “Oh no. No, I reserve that for people that I think can actually handle it. That’s why sex has always been better with you – I can always be myself,” he told her in a whisper. She moaned again, long and low, her fingers thrusting in and out of herself.

  “I’m glad,” she whispered, the hand in her hair going behind her head, gripping onto edge of the island.

  “Not to say that boring, old, regular sex doesn’t help pass the time. After demure one came apart all around me, I moved onto slutty one. Left her tied up, so I could do anything I wanted to her,” Jameson’s voice was almost menacing sounding.

  “What did you do?” Tate’s voice was starting to shake. She didn’t want to come, not without him inside her, but she couldn’t stop her fingers.

  “What do you think I did?” he asked.

  “Did you go down on her?” she asked, and then held her breath.

  “No. I don’t do that for just anybody,” he informed her. It made her happy to hear it, he hadn’t done that for her yet.

  “I noticed.”

  “You want me to go down on you, Tate?” he asked.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I consider that a very big favor. It’s quite a treat for me to give. You would owe me, big time,” he told her. She shook her head.

  “Obviously, I don’t need your favors,” she managed to chuckle, but it turned in to a gasp as a tremor ripped through her body, forcing her hips in to the air again. She was so close …,

  “What the the fuck did you just say to me?” Jameson snapped. She smiled, pressing her knees together.

  “God, yes, talk to me like that,” she moaned, her fingers moving fast, running a race against him.

  “Shut the fuck up and stop moving,” he ordered. She shook her head.

  “Can’t. Sorry,” she whispered, her breathing beginning to hitch.

  She hadn’t heard him move, but suddenly she felt his hand on her knee. She turned her head forward and opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. He slid his hand between her thighs, moving them apart. She finally pulled her hand free of her bottoms, but he grabbed her by the wrist and raised her hand to his face, wrapping his lips around two of her fingers. She moaned again, scratching the nails of her free hand down her thigh. His tongue swirled around her sticky sweet fingers, and then he slowly pulled them free.

  “You always need my favors, Tatum,” he informed her, dropping her hand and then grabbing her by the hips, pushing her back along the counter. Her legs stretched out, till her calves were resting against the edge.

  “Yes, yes, I do,” she groaned.

  “Beg me,” he ordered.

  “Anything. Do anything. Just please, touch me, something, anything,” she begged.

  He hooked his hands under knees and yanked them up. She planted her feet flat while he wrenched her thighs wide apart. A shudder ran down her body while his fingers dug in to her flesh. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she felt his teeth against her inner thigh. Biting his way down, his tongue softening the blows. His breath was hot against her damp bikini bottoms and she wiggled her hips in anticipation.

  “A very big favor,” he reminded her, his fingers creeping across her skin. She laughed.

  “I didn’t ask for any favors,” she told him.

  “You’re about to get one.”

  He roughly pulled the crotch of her bottoms to the side and then his mouth was on her. She cried out, her hands instantly going to his hair. His tongue made one long sweep up her center, cutting her like a knife. Her thighs shook, and she felt like her holding onto him was the only thing keeping her from flying off the island top.

  The man wasn’t all talk; his tongue moved expertly around her – she may have met her match in the oral sex department. Her breathing cranked back up and she started making harsh sounds in the back of her throat. Whining. Moaning. Panting. All of the above.

  “God, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a pussy as sweet as yours,” he groaned against her, running his hands over her breasts and then clawing them back down her body. “I didn’t think there could be anything better than fucking it, but this is pretty close.”

  “I aim to please,” Tate whispered, pulling at his hair.

  His tongue was back at it, this time joined by two of his finge
rs. Tracing up and down, swimming in and out. She shrieked and moaned, writhed around underneath him. His other arm came down across her hips, his fingers digging in to her skin. Her cries got louder, her hips undulating against his face. In the back of her mind, she knew that the door was open, that anyone could walk in on them – Sanders, a guest coming back for something, anyone – but she didn’t care. It just excited her more.

  “You’re very close, Tate,” Jameson lifted his head enough to whisper, biting on her thigh while his fingers still moved inside of her.

  “Yes, please, please, so close, please,” she whined, her hips lifting off the island, straining towards his mouth.

  “Do you want to come on my tongue, or my dick?”

  “Can’t I do both?”

  “Maybe another time. My generosity has run out for right now,” he told her.

  She sat up abruptly, forcing him to lean away. She grabbed his neck and pulled herself forward, sliding across the island in to him. She locked her lips onto his warm, damp ones, tasting herself against his tongue. Her legs went around his waist and she hooked her ankles together.

  “Now, it has to be now,” she groaned, her hands back in his hair and pulling.

  “So greedy,” he laughed, picking her up off the island and carrying her out of the room. She clawed and writhed against him, all the way up the stairs. He carried her in to his bedroom and then laid them down on his bed, stretching out on top of her.

  “So what am I going to owe you, for that huge favor?” Tate breathed, stretching while he peeled her clothing off of her.

  “Something big,” he warned. She smiled, working a hand in to his pants.

  “Oh, I know it is,” she replied. He laughed.

  “All you think about is sex.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. It’s your fault, anyway.”

  “I aim to please.”

  She had made it pretty clear that she wanted to come on his dick, and she did – but before he could come, he slid down her body and latched his lips back onto her pussy. For having gone on and on about doing her such a big favor by eating her out, how it wasn’t something he “ever really did”, he couldn’t seem to stop. He was like a man possessed. It wasn’t until she was so oversensitized that even the idea of another orgasm was uncomfortable, that he finally stopped. She laid on her back, trembling and shaking, her hands above her head.

  “Please, too much, no more,” she gasped for air, rubbing her thighs together. He worked his way up her body, pausing at her breasts, his fingers circling a nipple, pinching it. Her back arched up and she whimpered.

  “I could do this all night,” Jameson breathed, his teeth going to the nipple.

  “If only I had a twin,” she joked.

  “Jesus christ, I would die.”

  “But very happy. You would die a very happy man,” she pointed out. He lifted his face to hers, rubbed his nose against her cheek.

  “You’re better than any set of twins, any threesome, I’ve ever had. You better be careful, Tatum, or my claws will get in too deep for you to ever get away,” he warned her. His voice was soft, but his words carried weight. They settled on her chest, interfered with her heart beat. She opened her eyes and stared at his ceiling.

  “I like it better when you say mean things,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “They don’t hurt as much.”

  Jameson was silent for a while and then he rolled her over, slapped her on the ass. Called her a stupid slut for listening to anything that came out of his mouth in bed. Held her down by her shoulders and fucked her hard.

  That was her comfort zone. She felt like if he was nice to her, if he was sweet to her, she would forget what was really going on, forget her place in the grand scheme of things. And he was Satan, after all. He would make sure to put her back in her place. That would be real pain, and she couldn’t handle that, not from him. Not again.

  I’m losing this game.

  9

  “Wake up.”

  Something smacked hard against Tatum’s ass and she jumped a little, propping herself up. Jameson was leaning over the bed, a paddle brush in his hand. She yawned and raised an eyebrow at him.

  “A little early, but okay¸ at least we’re finally getting to the good stuff,” she joked. He laughed and spanked her again before pulling away.

  “Everything I give you is good stuff; you haven’t earned the right to play with toys yet,” he informed her. She snorted and rolled over in the bed.

  “Why are you so chipper? It’s too early,” she groaned.

  “We’re going somewhere. Get up and get showered!” he barked, disappearing in to his closet. She sat up.

  He was taking her somewhere? Jameson never took her anywhere, except for maybe out to eat, once in a while. Never in the mornings. They almost only ever did stuff at his house. Was this going to be like a date? Sanders’ words came back to her, as well as some of Jameson’s own words. She felt giddy. He had been very sweet to her the night before, said things she never would have thought he’d say. Maybe the tide was turning. Maybe Satan was growing a heart.

  Tate hustled in to the shower, hurried through her routine. When she got back out of the bathroom, Jameson was nowhere to be found, though there was a dress laid out on the bed. A tight black number, very prim and proper. Probably very expensive. While she fingered the material, her cell phone started going off, so she crawled across the bed to grab it. Rusty’s phone number flashed across the screen.

  “Hey, I meant to call -,” Tate answered, but a shrill scream stopped her.

  “OH MY GOD HOW COME YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!?!?” Rus was yelling. Tate yanked the phone away from her ear.

  “Jesus, I’m deaf now, thanks. Tell you what?” Tate asked.

  “The rent! It’s amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, this will totally help me with so many things!” Rus was gushing on and on.

  Rent? What about the rent? After Ang had crawled to her place, begging for forgiveness on his hands and knees, Tate had spent most of the week at his apartment, avoiding her landlord. She would sneak in her window at night, and then back out again in the morning. So she had no clue what Rus was talking about – as far as Tate knew, they were still two weeks late on their rent.

  “What’s amazing, Rusty!? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Tate snapped. There was a melodramatic sigh.

  “Oh my god, it was him, wasn’t it? I bet it was. I ran in to Mr. Malley in the hall, and I was all prepared to beg, and cry, and plead, or offer your body up for sacrifice, when he said to say thank you to you, for paying the next six months rent in advance,” Rus said in one quick breath.

  Six months!?

  Tate fell back against the pillows. She was blown away. Jameson must have done it, no one else she knew had that kind of money. Why would he do that? They joked about him paying her, but he never actually had. Was paying her rent considered payment? Or was he just being a nice guy? He’d gotten awfully upset when he’d found out that she owed money. Maybe he was just trying to rectify the problem.

  “I didn’t know that he’d done that, he didn’t tell me,” Tate mumbled in to the phone.

  “Aw, maybe it was a secret and I ruined it. I’m so sorry, I was just so excited! I can finally afford those vet tech classes! Tell him I said thank you? What a sweetheart,” Rus sighed in to the phone. Tate snorted and rolled onto her stomach, picking at the bedspread.

  “He didn’t do it to be nice, Rus. He’ll want something in return. I don’t call him ‘Satan’ for no reason,” she laughed.

  “Shut up and try not to ruin this one! For once, you found a guy who treats you the way you like and also does nice things for you. You better do whatever it takes to hold onto him, understand!? If you don’t, tell him to call me, and I will!” Rus snapped, and then the line went dead. Tate made a face and dropped the phone. Rusty sleeping with Jameson. There was a thought. He would eat her alive.

  “I’m Satan, am I?” Jameson’s vo
ice was behind her. She pulled herself to her knees and turned to face him.

  “Mostly in my head, that’s how I refer to you,” she told him. He laughed as he walked across the room, carrying a black, carry-on type of roller bag.

  “How flattering. You’ve already heard everything I like to call you,” he said. She cleared her throat.

  “Did you pay my rent?” she asked. He glanced at her.

  “Yes. Last week, when I left your apartment,” he told her, sitting the bag at the foot of the bed and opening it.

  “Why would you do that?” she asked, crawling down and kneeling behind the bag.

  “Because your rent was late. That’s horrible. And if you were so far behind that you couldn’t pay it, I knew that meant you would have to work more to make the money. I didn’t want that, I like having access to you at any time. It seemed the only answer was paying your rent for you,” Jameson explained, disappearing in to his closet.

  “That’s very nice, but six months worth? Seems a little excessive,” she called out. He came back out, carrying some shirts and pants on hangers.

  “I’m an excessive kind of person. I have no doubt that one of us will run the other off before six months is up, but it was a nice, even number,” he told her, folding up the clothing and dropping it in to the bag. She grabbed his wrist, halting his movements, and stared him in the eye.

  “Thank you,” she said plainly. He gave her a tight lipped smile.

  “Don’t thank me yet. It wasn’t for free,” he warned her, pulling his arm out of her grasp.

  “And that’s why I call you Satan,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s very fair, to expect payment for something I didn’t ask to buy.” He laughed and walked over to the side table, grabbing some watches and loading them in to a travel case, which also went in to the luggage.

  “Are you fucking with me? Do you think I actually care what you think is fair? C’mon, get up and get dressed. We’re leaving in half an hour,” he informed her, heading back in to the closet.

  “Where are we going? Are you going away somewhere? You just got back,” she said, running her hands over the shirts in his bag. He walked back out and dumped some socks, underwear, and a pair of shoes in to the bag.