by Moore, Gabi
Presenting the question in such a direct way brought a new point of perspective to the scenario.
He laughed. A twisted, and bewildered sort of laugh. Then he smiled.
“I like you, Piper. I knew I liked you the moment I brought you onto the team. But don’t play things too cocky. You may be valuable to me, but you are only as valuable as the amount of trust I have in you, and right now, that trust is almost gone.”
He hadn’t answered my question, and I couldn’t lower myself to plead because that would be placing myself in a victim’s role once more within our little theater of the moment. It takes a firm will to be able to manage situations like this, and I knew that I had to play my moves just right in order to get out of this with any grace whatsoever.
I didn’t respond.
I met his gaze and didn’t flinch for a second.
He walked closer to me as if testing to see just how far my conviction held.
"You know it's been a while since I had a piece of that ass, he said, looking down on me like he was surveying some goods on the street.
As he spoke to me, he leaned toward me so closely that I could feel the heat from his body pressing up on me.
I knew what I had to do.
This man needed to know that I was 100% committed to him. I knew very well that meant fucking him in broad daylight, in the middle of this quiet slummy neighborhood.
I was okay with that.
I brought my hands to my mouth, intentionally placing some distance between him and myself. With a theatrical display, I brought my palm to my mouth and licked my hand. I let a great deal of spit come out of my mouth, and fall down onto my palm. It was excessive, seductive, willing, and everything that he was looking for in a lover. I saw his eyes gleam as I brought my hand down and shoved it into the front of his pants.
That fucker was already hard. He was ready to take me then and there. Damn, he might have been planning to fuck me this whole time for all I knew.
"I should've known," I said, not bothering to hide my derision.
The comment was obviously a swipe at how effectively he did or did not hide his attraction to me. I wanted to play coy, but I also wanted to come off as a bit of a hard ass.
You can be a confident person without bowing to everyone's will, or allowing people to push you around. The problem is, that if you're trying to convince someone that you actually give a shit about them, that needs to be your number one priority in communication. All forms of behavior our communication. Body language is communication, emotional expression is communication, even the varieties of disgust or acceptance — everything matters.
I had to show no form of fear. Every single emotion that I displayed had to be completely rooted in a desire for this person. What was more, was that I had to act quickly if I hoped to keep this ruse up.
Without a moment's further hesitation, I dropped myself down to my knees and unbuckled Maurice's khakis. I unzipped him and watched with an amazed expression on my face as his penis flopped out from the confines of his designer slacks.
I had seen Maurice's cock before. As a matter of fact, there was nothing spectacular about his cock.
I opened my mouth and brought the head of his cock past my lips. He wasted no time in grabbing the back of my head and shoving the length of his cock down my throat. I gagged, and dug my hands into either side of his ass, merely to hold onto something.
The thing about fucking Maurice is that he likes to be in control. I happen to like men who are in control, but he lacks a certain sense of refinement that some other men possess. Being in control is one thing, and being abusive is another. Maurice bordered on the latter, which was why fucking him was such a tricky task. You had to be committed, otherwise, there was no way around his bullshit.
When I am fucking Maurice, I am reminded every of just how much of a prick he is every single time. It seems as though he is getting just as much pleasure out of treating me with cruelty as I am wishing he would fucking cum already. He tends to get harder, the rougher he ‘plays.’ The problem is that he doesn’t keep his erection for long unless you overload him somehow. The fucker is so insensitive that it’s actually harder than you’d think to get him to cum.
I once watched him fuck a woman until she literally could not walk any longer; it wasn't a good kind of exhaustion either. He was making an example of her, and she was trying her hardest to find some kind of place within the organization. The combination of the two efforts ended up making for a spectacle of cruelty which would not easily be forgotten.
There was a moment, in that public fuck session that Maurice made everyone watch, where the woman began to stand on her own feet. She began to make some aggressive assertion toward Maurice's body. In those moments, she turned his entire paradigm on its head. I actually picked up my own methods of dealing with Maurice from her lead.
While she had the upper hand, it seemed as though she might have successfully found the way out of her situation. Unfortunately, her will wasn't strong enough to maintain that disposition. Instead, she fell back into the passive, submissive, victim-based role, and was summarily fucked until she literally could not walk away.
The woman ended up being alright, but it had taken her the better part of the week to recuperate.
I thought about the small moments of victory that she had achieved while Maurice’s cock was pummeling the back of my throat. Knowing that I needed to accept him completely, I opened up my throat and gave him full access to my body. While making room in one direction, I opened for a more aggressive motion from behind. I dropped his pants down around his thighs, under the premise of giving myself more access to his cock. He gripped the sides of my hair, essentially using my hair as handles to hold either side of my head. Without missing a moment, I used one hand to grab his balls, and the other hand to shove two fingers into his asshole.
He was tight, and my fingers were too dry make their way inside of him.
I felt him push back harder by shoving his cock inside of my mouth and holding it there so I had to open my jaw as wide as possible just to accommodate the girth of his cock. I was drooling uncontrollably, and all I had to do was take the hand that was cupping his balls and hold it beneath the length of his cock.
Within a moment, he had pulled out, and I gasped for air. My hand went immediately for his shaft and was promptly soaked in a thin coating of saliva. I leaned forward, indicating that this was far from over and that I wanted more. He smiled and didn’t even notice what I was doing before I pushed two fingers firmly inside of his asshole.
It should be said, that Maurice is a tight ass. I mean a tight ass in every sense of the word. He was even too stingy to let me keep my fingers up his ass long enough to manage an explosion from his prostate.
He slapped me with the flat of his hand, and I felt the sting of his strike against my face. I refused to back down and plunged my fingers deeper into his asshole. I was up to the knuckle, and massaging intensely toward his prostate with one hand, while the other hand was pulling tight on his balls.
My mouth was wrapped tightly around the head of his cock, and my hand slipped up from his balls to around his shaft. Having fingers in his asshole seemed to act like a pressure release switch to manage his bullshit. He was wild at first, like a bronco, but now that I had him where I wanted him, I looked up at him with total admiration in my eyes. His attentions toward me ended up being softer, and more compliant.
He reached his hand down to stroke my breast, but I batted his hand away from me.
I’m in charge, I wanted to tell him, though I didn’t dare remove my mouth from his cock long enough to make that message verbally clear.
In spite of my science, he managed well enough to understand. His hand continued to hold at the base of my head, while my head continued to bob on the head of his cock. He was softer than usual, but as long as I was in control of the pacing, I didn’t really mind. He threw a curveball at me though and he leaned forward to kiss me.
“Going s
oft on me, huh?” I asked, leaning back on the floor of the alleyway, spreading my legs, and holding his head down toward my vagina.
“You know I like it when you fuck me like that,” he said, pausing between licking my hot, red cunt.
It must have been my day. I looked down at him with total admiration and allowed myself to feel like a queen who was being serviced in an alleyway in the slums in Venice. My abs moved in a wave-like motion, and his tongue moved seamlessly from my vagina to my asshole, and back to my cunt once more. My legs were spread wide, and his hands had me pinned down once more.
He was starting to get more aggressive, and so I wrapped my legs around him, pulling his head toward my vagina once more. He got the inspiration to try and fuck me, so he came forward, and began to shove his cock into my vagina. His hand wrapped around my throat and began to push me into the ground, while his cock shoved itself about half way inside of my vagina.
I reached my hand out and slapped him, and then put my own hands around his neck. He responded by lifting my leg up over my head and binding it to the wall behind me with his hand. He had me pinned on the floor, ready to fuck, and with nothing to be done about it. His other hand was on my neck, though he strayed far enough to shove a thumb down my throat. I bit him slightly, just to let him know that I would do whatever possible to fuck with him if he decided to get out of control again.
All the while, he started to fuck me stronger, pushing his cock into me with more and more pressure. Each slam of his dick caused a contraction in my abdomen. I looked up at his strong, Italian features, and I actually caught a glimpse of the reason I had been attracted to him in the first place. I knew that it was good to think about these sorts of things because they would provide more authenticity for my performance.
“Get off of me and let me fuck you,” I told him, pushing him off from on top of me with all of my strength.
He had more strength than I did, that was for sure. Maurice was a huge man, and he knew how to handle himself. However, I had reached something inside of him, and I knew it. He wanted to feel loved, just like everyone else, and I was just the woman to share that with him.
The head of his cock worked in and out of the entrance to my vagina. I kept the rhythm up, and my slit opened for him again and again. Deeper, and with a steady rhythm each time, I bobbed onto of him. He ended up getting excited again and thrusting his cock inside of me. I could feel his tense muscles convulse with every single thrust.
Maurice was the type of man with a six pack, and a firm hand. He held me to his chest by wrapping one hand around the back of my neck, and grabbing onto my ass cheek with the other hand. All I could do was fuck, and put on a show. I knew that people were watching, and I didn’t give a shit. They had no idea what I was going through, and I wanted Maurice to know that I didn’t give a shit about them either.
I pushed off him once more and leaned back on him so he could watch me riding his cock and playing with my clit at the same time. I was Maurice’s showgirl, and I knew what he liked.
He wanted me to be getting off on him. He wanted to be Maurice, the sex god, wanted by everyone, and so I gave him that performance.
I fondled his cock and made the most beautiful, agonized faces possible. I spread my legs wide and bounced up and down on his cock, bending him with my pussy while I pinched my nipples with my free hand.
In a quick move, I turned around, giving him a view of my ass while sharing my tits and face with the whole neighborhood. I made sure to moan with each wave of pleasure, allowing myself to be more vocally expressive than I would have perhaps been had I been even by myself.
I couldn’t fake it — you couldn’t fake anything with Maurice. I had to believe it. And so I did.
Chapter 12 - Piper
“God dammit, you fuckhead,” I cursed him. “Shove your cock inside of me like a fucking man!”
I slapped him on his balls and grabbed them, lifting them up off the ground.
“You want to see my asshole while you fuck me?” I asked, turning around and looking at him like a whore. I spread my cheeks for him, so he could see my asshole as clear as the afternoon sun.
He pushed me off of him, and held me down with one hand. He didn’t go for my ass, but kept at my cunt, pushing inside of me and holding onto my lower back with his large, firm hands.
“Oh FUCK, Maurice!” I yelled, eliciting a slam of a window nearby.
I looked over at him, and saw him grinning, in all of his pride. He loved this whole experience. Fucking me raw in front of this place, and watching me beg for more. I spread my cheeks for him so he could get a clear look at both my asshole, as well as the way that my eyes begged him for more.
My hands dug into the asphalt below my body. I was getting torn up by the concrete, but I didn’t care. My legs would heal. What was important right now was being present, and vulnerable; that was the only way to get through this whole thing.
“Fuckin’ swallow it,” he commanded, backing off, and laying down so I could get on top of him with my mouth.
I didn’t hesitate. One hand was massaging his testicles, and jerking him off fiercely.
He shot his load all over my cheek, and I wrapped my lips around the head of his dick pulling him closer into me so I could suck what sperm remained inside of him out into my mouth.
I could feel him relax and grow less tense. All of the power left his body, and I was there to pick up the mess.
I turned around, so he could see me sucking on his cock as it grew more flaccid. His eyes were closed, though, but I knew that didn’t matter. When he opened them, I wanted him to see that I was worshiping him. I wanted him to know that I was totally committed to the cause, and unquestioningly committed to him.
Sure enough, he opened his eyes, and I was there to smile at him. The cock in my mouth was already limp enough to let fall to his abdomen, but I wasn’t finished quite yet.
While he was staring at me, I made sure to raise a finger up toward my cheek so I could wipe the cum from my cheek off and place it decidedly on my outstretched tongue. I sucked my finger clean and then proceeded to lick up any and all of the escaped sperm that had not ended up in my mouth on its way toward my cheek.
As my tongue trailed along Maurice’s abdomen, he looked at me with and expression that I can only describe as wonder.
That’s how you do it, folks, I thought, while slurping the last bit of cum up from his abs.
“Big load,” I grinned, swallowing obviously so that he knew it was all gone.
I gave him a raised eyebrow and a deep sigh. At that point, I could have probably stopped, but I wanted him to be the one that pushed me away, so I went after his cock once more. Some men, you can continue to suck them off, and they will get hard again; Maurice is not one of those men. Once he is spent, there is no more joy to be had with that man’s cock until a fair amount of time has passed. Often times, Maurice will go a week or two between fucking someone, sometimes as long as a month. When you’re busy taking over the world, you don’t really have time to screw around as much as you might like.
I brought his cock toward my mouth and sucked him firmly, taking more than a bit of pleasure in feeling him shrink up and push me away in his sensitive state. I licked my lips and looked up at him.
“Later,” he muttered, obviously thinking that I was more of a sex-driven animal than a human being.
Personally, I couldn’t tell much of a difference between the two, but the look of disdain in his eyes made it clear to me that he had a very particular idea of how things were going between the two of us. I had serviced him, and I would now go and service him financially. We had an unspoken agreement.
He got up and the two of us got our clothes together once more.
A kid from one of the neighborhood houses threw a tomato at us, which splattered harmlessly against the wall, though some of the seeds did manage to spray on Maurice’s clothes.
He shook his head. “Fucking kids.”
Things were going to be ok �
�� all I had to do was track down army boy, and get the bag.
In my heart of hearts, I thought Maurice was a total prick, but I also knew that he would make my life miserable if I fucked him over, so I knew what I had to do.
Before he could walk away, I hit him up for some cash. I guess I was still riding high on that wave of courage.
“I’m going to need some funds,” I said, looking at him like I meant business.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he replied, looking at me with a sidelong glance. He sighed, as though letting me know that he wasn’t happy about it, but that he would comply.
I smiled.
“You know I like you, though,” he said, reaching his hand out to stroke the hair behind my left ear.
I waited until he had forked over whatever cash was in his pocket before replying. He handed me four hundred dollars in large bills. With that money, I would be able to find a place to stay for a couple of weeks, maybe crashing with a friend or something of the sort. I had a friend in mind, while I looked over the bills, and back to the man whose temperament had changed so drastically due to subtle cues in emotional manipulation.
“If you liked me, you wouldn’t lose your shit and slap me like that.”
He laughed bitterly and walked away.
“If you don’t come up with the goods inside of the next week, you’ll have to deal with a lot more than that.”
“Burn in hell,” I called out,
Though he was walking away, I swore I heard him say, “Already there.”
When dealing with a man who has a chip on their shoulder that size, a person should always be wary. He was an unstable fucker, with a vision, which was exactly why he was so dangerous. Most of the time, people who were unstable had a sense of disorientation and confusion about them and were no real threat to society. The way Maurice operated was to take that anger that most commonly would have been internalized and to focus it on the world around him. His world-view had been constructed and calcified. The hardening process gave him a vision of a society where leaders were put in their rightful place, and the working class was free to be as they wished — essentially controlling the means of production themselves. He was a Marxist who had turned to black hat anarchism as a matter of course, a means to an end.
