Se7en

by Sky Corgan

I abandon his cock to pinch and tweak one of my nipples as I feel my orgasm about to peak. A few heavy thrusts against his tongue and my body gives way. I cry out as I come, everything disappearing but that tiny spot between my legs.

  “That's right, baby. Come all over my face,” Chandler whispers into me before milking out the rest of my contractions with the flat of his tongue. “Your pussy is so sweet. I could eat you all day.”

  “In that case,” I grin, climbing off of him just to straddle him again backward.

  Chandler doesn't miss a beat, grabbing my ass and squeezing it before moving his hands down to spread my pussy lips. I give him my best seductive look before taking his dick in my hand and lining it up to be sucked on. I've always wanted to try 69, and there's no better time than now.

  It's a lot more awkward than I thought it would be. Between having to bend in an uncomfortable position to reach him and worrying about maintaining the right height from his face, I end up focusing on positioning more than on pleasuring him. Chandler seems contently planted between my legs, though his mouth doesn't feel the same. He's not hitting all the right spots as before. Or rather, he's not hitting them as frequently. Maybe he's not used to this either.

  I do my best to relax, realizing that I can't win if I try to concentrate on both of us at the same time. Instead, I surrender to giving my attention to blowing him, not caring so much if my butt bobs up and he can't quite reach me. He helps by keeping his hands on my ass, pulling me down when my body strays too far away. I feel like he's having more fun touching my ass than anything else because his fingers keep kneading into my flesh.

  When I realize that the mutual pleasuring isn't doing much for me and probably isn't doing much for him either, I resign myself to better things. My cunt is dying to have his big hard cock inside of it, and I'm tired of denying myself. If he's going to let me be in charge, then I'm going to take what I want. And right now, I want sex more than foreplay.

  I turn back around, placing a foot on the floor to angle myself so that his cock head is pressing between my folds but not quite inside of me. Chandler gropes my breast as I tease his tip against my clit, flicking it back and forth between my folds and causing electricity between us that makes my pussy drool from the thought of having him. He's so fucking hot that I can't take it anymore.

  I position him against my entryway, biting back the soreness from losing my virginity yesterday as I let my weight down and slide him into me. It hurts a lot more than I thought it would, and I find myself pausing before I have him all the way in.

  Chandler bucks up slowly and rhythmically, our combined juices quickly helping the pain to melt into pleasure. I hold steady, moaning from the intense spreading sensation that I'm quickly becoming addicted to.

  “God, it's so big,” I whisper in my most sensual voice.

  “I love spreading your little pussy. You're so tight,” he tells me breathily.

  Our bodies move in sync. When I thrust down, he pistons up. I still haven't taken him all the way to the hilt, but it's only a matter of time.

  I slip a hand between my legs, massaging my clit while Chandler plays with my tits. My only goal is to orgasm. It feels selfish to use his body, but I suppose this is what he wants. He's not complaining, nor is he trying to stop me from coming again. And just like last time we were together, there's a strange greedy desperation to get everything out of the situation that I can because I'm worried I won't get to be with him again.

  I should be less concerned about that now. He's already proven that what happened between us last night wasn't going to be a one-time thing. I should expect that we'll have sex at least a few more times while I'm here.

  “Oh yeah.” I let the friction of his bucking combined with teasing myself drive me to that special place that only he's been able to bring me to. My cunt clenches around him, and he forces my muscles to give as he continues to pump up into me. I'm enjoying this battle that I can't win, the feeling that as long as he's hard, he can push past any barrier that my body tries to create.

  My inner thighs burn from keeping my legs spread with my foot on the floor, so I finally settle to my knees, feeling the exhaustion from my orgasm stealing some of my energy. Chandler doesn't even give pause, taking advantage of my lowered body to press all the way inside of me. He cranes his neck, lifting slightly to draw my nipple into his mouth. When he clips it gently between his teeth, I whimper from the zing of electricity that assaults my core. He follows that bite with a few kisses, and I pant as he picks up the pace.

  He feels so deep within me, each upward thrust making his helmet rub against my inner walls. I straighten myself, and the sensation only gets more intense. It seems like the further I lean back, the more I feel.

  I bend to kiss him, my hair cascading around us. My body moves like it was made for this, grinding down on him. I bite his bottom lip, giving it a good tug, and he fists his hand into my hair, the roughness of it causing me to giggle. When our eyes meet, the look he's giving me is absolutely carnal.

  “My turn to be on top,” he tells me before letting me go.

  I climb off of him, having mixed feelings about giving up my position. Nothing has felt as pleasurably intense as me riding him in this way, but I know that I can't expect to keep him on his back all day.

  Chandler urges me onto all fours and takes his place behind me. I gaze down at my reflection in the glass, momentarily distracted by it. Seeing myself in such a way is sexy sometimes but uncomfortable others. I feel empowered yet flawed. Seeing everything we do is like watching a porno of us while it happens, and I can't help but wonder if he's going to keep these videos in some private collection that he has. I want to ask but now isn't the time. And I don't have a right to ask because I signed everything away when I scrawled my name on that contract. Whatever his answer is, I have to be content with it. Though I doubt he'll even give me an answer. He seems pretty quick to draw the no questions part of the contract to my attention, I think with a frown.

  My thoughts are wiped clean as he enters me again. There's no hesitation, no teasing strokes between my folds. He simply lines up and pushes forward, filling me balls deep with one quick thrust.

  I do my best to find a comfortable position, the hard surface beneath us causing small bites of pain from my weight shifting as he thrusts. His hands are everywhere, exploring the globes of my ass before settling on my hips, then wandering up to my shoulders for leverage before reaching around to grab and squeeze my breasts.

  I push my hips back towards him, trying to find the synchronized rhythm that we held onto earlier for so long. I can't seem to get there, though, so instead, I allow him to do all the work.

  I watch Chandler in the mirror, can see his cock moving in and out of me. It heightens my pleasure, seeing our connected parts.

  “Arch your back.” He places a hand between my shoulder blades. I'm not really sure what he means until he starts to push me down. I fold my arms, lowering myself so that my nipples are brushing against the cold floor and my ass is up in the air. “Oh yeah. Just like that.” He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath before picking up the pace. My mouth contorts in a torrent of moans as the friction makes my clit pulse.

  “Don't stop,” I tell him between a litany of soft curses and biting my own wrist. With each full thrust into me, his balls slap against my clit. It only takes a few quick strokes before I'm coming all over his dick, the orgasm stealing my breath away.

  “Looks like you couldn't hold out,” Chandler teases me, kissing my shoulder. I glance at our reflection again and about die from the sexiness of it. I hope he paints us just like this because the way he's looking at me is to die for. His hand is reached around me, pinching my nipple. My eyes are hooded, and despite the fact that I'm watching us, I still look sexy. It's perfect.

  “This,” I tell him. “I want you to paint us like this.”

  “You don't get a say in it,” he reminds me gently.

  I pout, turning my head to kiss him. In response, he rolls
us onto our sides, pulling my leg up and holding it in place by gripping below my thigh. I feel like it's some kind of punishment, not because I don't like the position but because now I can't see him as well. All I see is a clear view of his cock pumping in and out of me, which is hot in itself, but not as good as seeing his powerful, masculine body hovering over me.

  I don't really want to look at myself. I'd rather be seeing him, so I just close my eyes, slipping a hand between my legs to massage my clit instead of focusing on the infinite images of me in the throes of passion. Chandler rests his hand on my breast, giving it the occasional squeeze. My nipple is hard between his fingertips, and every time he applies even the slightest bit of pressure, it sends a surge between my legs that threatens to make me come again. How many times can he make me orgasm in one session, I wonder. Is it as infinite as the mirrors around us? It's sure beginning to feel like it.

  Before I have the chance to climax again, Chandler pulls out of me and rolls me onto my back. I'm thankful for the change in position because my hip was grinding into the floor. This feels like a vacation in comparison to everything we've done since we entered this room.

  He crawls onto his knees and lifts my legs, holding them together over his shoulder as he lines himself up with me again. His hand returns to my breast as he enters me, and I moan, drowning in the bliss of having him inside of me and being able to see his handsome face without having to strain myself. Making eye contact with him seems to connect us on a deeper level. At least, that's what it feels like to me. Like we're the only two people in the world that matter; like we belong to one another.

  My heart is almost as swollen with affection for him as my cunt is swollen from overuse. Chandler caresses my face as he bends my legs towards my chest, pumping into me rapidly. I rub his arms, amazed at how hard they are. I don't feel like I'd ever be able to get a man like him in the real world. All the boys I've dated in the past have either been skinny or overweight. Chandler is a completely different breed.

  His hand moves across my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. I suck it between my lips, though he only holds it there briefly, moving down to clutch onto my throat. I expect him to squeeze, but he doesn't, simply staring down at me with a sexy dominant expression as if he knows he has complete and total power over me.

  He straightens himself, dropping one of my legs but keeping the other in place over his shoulder. It gives me a much better view of him entering me. Plus it allows me to ogle his flawless torso. Just looking at him in his full naked glory is enough to send me over the edge again, my cunt pulsing around him.

  “You come so easily,” he muses.

  “Does that bother you?” I pant, already knowing the answer.

  “Not at all. It just makes it hard for me to keep my shit together.” He smirks before bending to kiss me.

  Chandler rests his forehead against mine. There's a change in his expression, a moment of physical weakness. He's not going to beat my contractions this time. I try to hold back a smug grin as I feel him pull out of me. My hand flies to his cock to stroke him to completion, and then he groans loudly, and I can feel his dick swelling before the heat of his pleasure lands across my stomach.

  “That's right, baby,” I whisper to him. “Let me see you come.”

  He straightens himself so I get the full view, though my focus is mainly on his cock. Jacking him off while he comes is oddly satisfying, like I'm taking things all the way instead of handing the reigns over to him to finish himself off.

  He hovers above me, catching his breath with a look of sheer exhaustion on his face. I like knowing that I wore him out. My own exhaustion doesn't hit me until he stands and I realize that it's over. Even though I feel like I came a million times, I want more of him. Or maybe I'm just scared of him leaving the room and our intimacy coming to a permanent end.

  Even when he heads for the door, despite the fact that I know he's coming back, it fills me with dread. I don't like this tug on my heart. The more we're together, the more convoluted my emotions become. The deeper I fall, the more I fear the aftermath to my heart when this art project is over.

  Chandler returns with a towel, tossing it down to me to clean myself off. It's such a careless action after all the affection he's shown me.

  “You can do whatever you like today. I'll be in my study. If you need anything, ask Susan,” he tells me. There's a clear disconnect between us, a strange iciness that reminds me what I'm here for. The thought that he doesn't want to spend the day with me hurts.

  “Alright,” I reply hesitantly, handing the towel back up to him.

  As soon as he takes it from me, he disappears out the door, once more leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  Thinking is about all there is to do in this place, I realize once I'm bathed and on my own. The rest of the day is almost unbearably boring with no electronics to entertain me. I return to my room and try to turn on the television, but it doesn't seem to work. It's plugged in and appears to be brand new. I have no idea what's wrong with it.

  Feeling a bit guilty for being a burden, I go hunting for Susan to ask her about it, but she seems to have conveniently disappeared. The house is eerily silent. I walk through it testing my keycard on all the doors. The only ones it works on are the ones I've been in before. There's not even a guest bathroom available to me. It seems like the entire house is almost completely off limits. So weird.

  I return to my room and look through the shoes I brought for something suitable for the outdoors. All I have are sandals, heels, wedges, and flats. Packing a pair of tennis shoes wouldn't have killed me, but I had limited space in my suitcase and hadn't expected to be in this predicament. I throw on a pair of flats and head towards the front of the house. When I swipe my keycard, the light doesn't turn green. I try it two more times before realizing that I don't have access to leave. The thought that I'm locked in makes my stomach twist with discomfort. Why would Chandler not give me access to the front door?

  I immediately make a beeline for the back of the house where the deck is, feeling tendrils of panic gripping me. Each step I take makes me feel more claustrophobic. The door to the deck opens for me, and the cool air rushes in to wrap around me like a comforting hug. That comfort is fleeting, though, when I realize that I can't get off of the deck without ending up in the river. With no other exits that I've found, I'm truly trapped inside this house. Trapped with nothing to do but wait for Chandler to be ready for me again.

  Even though it's chilly outside, I opt to remain on the deck for the majority of the day. When I'm not on the deck, I'm sitting at the dining room table where I can still see outside. It makes me feel less caged in somehow. Plus, I figure that Susan has to pass through here eventually.

  She never does.

  Disturbed, annoyed, and bored, I retire to my room, tired of waiting for people who aren't going to come. The isolation is almost maddening. I scour my room for something to do. Anything. Now more than ever, I wish I had packed a crossword puzzle to take on the plane. I don't even have a pen, not that I've been provided with anything to draw on.

  Submitting to defeat from the situation, I decide to take a nap. Thanks to the heavy sleep I got last night, I'm only able to pass out for an hour before I'm wide awake. From that point on, I just lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling reflecting on the strange situation and life and everything else my mind can come up with in the hours of restlessness that follow.

  Finally, after what seems like forever, Susan comes to retrieve me for dinner. I'm so excited to have human contact that I completely forget to ask her about the television. She sits me across from Chandler, serving up a plate of what appears to be some kind of poultry on green beans with a side of mashed potatoes.

  “What's this?” I ask Chandler once Susan is out of earshot.

  “Duck confit,” he informs me, picking up his knife and fork.

  “Fancy,” I say, though with far less enthusiasm than the night before. Despite having slept, I feel drained, both emoti
onally and physically.

  “I think you'll like it.” He begins to cut into his protein.

  While I look haggard, Chandler seems well rested. He's already dressed down for bed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight navy long-sleeved shirt. Normally, I'd be thinking about unwrapping him like a package, but I'm too disturbed by the newfound discovery of being a prisoner here to fantasize about sex.

  “Is there a reason why my card doesn't work on the front door?” I turn in its direction.

  Chandler glances at me over his raised fork. “It's for your own protection.”

  “Is there something dangerous around here?” I furrow my brow.

  “There are lots of dangerous things here.” He gives me a wolfish smirk, and I can't help but get the feeling that he's talking about himself.

  “Seriously.” I gesture in annoyance. “Where are we?”

  “Seriously. No questions,” his tone is warning.

  I drop my gaze to my food, picking up my utensils to begin eating. The mystery of this place is becoming more annoying than fantastical. I feel unsettled, which is one step above being scared. I don't want to be scared. Maybe if I had a distraction, I wouldn't feel this way.

  “The television in my room is broken,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “I looked for Susan earlier today to tell her about it, but she was nowhere to be found.” Part of me feels like a bitch for getting his little house pet in trouble, but part of me doesn't care. Isn't her job supposed to be to make sure I'm comfortable here? She's not doing it very well.

  “It's not broken,” he replies plainly.

  I set my fork down, my irritation elevating. Does he not fucking believe me? “It won't turn on, Chandler.”

  “That's because there's no power to it, Emma.” He throws my attitude back at me.

  “Why?” I shake my head, completely confused.

  “No influence from the outside world, remember.” He continues eating.

  “Then why is it even in the room if I can't watch it?”

  “You'll see. You should eat your food before it gets cold.” He nods towards my plate.