by Linnea May
"How are things with...?”
Damn. I can't remember my sister's current boyfriend's name. Was it Lucas? Or Pete? No, that one's been gone for a while.
"Jim?" she helps me out, casting a look at me from the side.
"Um, yes, sorry, I—"
"It's okay," she assures me. "No need to remember his name now because I think I'll break up with him."
"Oh?" I ask, turning around to her, and she sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Lila nods. "But I need a little more wine for that."
She hands me her empty glass, adding a beseeching smile.
I glance at the time. Still two hours until I have to show up at the club to wait for Damon.
"Oh, I know you have to show up for your shift later," Lila says. "You don't have to drink with me."
Show up for my shift. She doesn’t know about the current details of my job description, none of it. I think it's better that way.
I shake my head, smiling at her when I get up from the sofa. "Oh no, I'd never let you drink alone."
Chapter 25
Damon
Day five.
Not only do I think that I've made her wait long enough by now, I'm also tortured by my own impatience. I could have showed up before, but I didn't. I forced myself to stay away from her, just to see what it would do to me—and to her. I stared at the time every single night, relishing in the knowledge that she's sitting in the black room, naked, her heart beating fast in anticipation and her pussy dripping for me.
I don't know if this is more than an image in my head, but it spurs me enough to fantasize about her. I get hard just thinking about her sitting in that room, kneeling, obediently waiting for me just as I've told her to, needing me, wanting me. The image has come to me multiple times since I last saw her.
Not tonight, though. I won't be sitting at home all by myself tonight. Tonight will be the first night she won't be waiting needlessly.
It's a quarter past nine by the time I set foot in The Velvet Rooms. She has been sitting in the black room upstairs for about fifteen minutes now, not too long for her to grow tired or to lose her pose, but just enough time to not make me look too eager. A man never wants to seem too eager.
My plan was to stop at the bar for a drink, but I scrap that idea when I see Mr. Bartlet sitting there surrounded by two devils who are both giggling. They pour champagne down their throats, deliberately spilling some of it on their cleavage, which he all too willingly offers to lick up. His eyes meet mine for a split second when I walk by, casting him a nod in a greeting, which he doesn't reciprocate. I wonder if he's bold enough to bring a little bag of powder in here. Probably not. Mr. Bartlet has always been more careful about his use than my parents have. Not careful enough for me to not notice, but careful enough to stay out of trouble with the law. Bringing coke to a club like The Velvet Rooms would be reckless, and he knows that.
I leave him behind and head straight toward the spiral staircase, ignoring the girls who cross my path and try to capture my attention. Just before I reach the stairs, one of them—a devil with round tits, pushed up below her chin—nudges me from the side.
"Finally!" she shouts at me. "About time for you to show up, mister!"
I throw her a confused look, but she just winks at me, jerking her chin up to the stairs. "She's waiting for you!"
My eyes rest on the girl for a moment as she walks away without giving me a second thought. Did word get around about my agreement with Elene? It would make sense to instruct the staff so they stay clear of that black room at the end of the corridor.
I decide not to dwell on it and make my way up the stairs. Darkness welcomes me on the upper level, darkness and silence. I pause for a moment to find my bearings, relying on my ears more than my eyes. There's no sound, no moaning, no slickened noises of flesh slapping against each other, no sign of whips or spankings, evoking blissful yelps. All I can hear is the echo of my own breathing, rapid and erratic as I walk slowly but steadily, turning down the corridor as if led by instinct. The closer I get to the final curtain, the faster my heart raps against my rib cage.
I hesitate before moving the curtain aside, holding my own breath so I can listen for hers on the other side. But any sound she may make remains hidden behind thick velvet. It has only been five days, but right now it feels as if years have passed since I've been here and made her come on my hand, presumably the very first man ever to do so.
I take in a deep, cleansing breath and plunge in at the deep end, marching through the curtain with one wide, confident step.
And there she is. Kneeling on the carpet in the center of the room, completely naked, with her head lowered and her platinum hair cascading down her shoulders in loose waves. I didn't give her any instructions on how to do her makeup and hair, but she found the perfect solution for her bleached strands. Loose and open like that, the locks framing her face give her a more pure, innocent look than an up-do would.
"Good girl," I say, as I approach her. "Look up at me."
She obeys, tilting her head back as I come to a halt in front of her. I'm standing about a foot away when her blue eyes lock onto mine, framed with thick dark lashes, her skin matted with powder and her lips painted in pink. The light, which is set to the exact same brightness it was last time, illuminates her pretty features, causing her pupils to shrink and give room to more of that intense blue.
A smile widens across her face. "Hi."
Chapter 26
Elene
He's looking even more handsome than I remembered. Dressed in a black suit tailored to his broad frame, his brown hair is gelled to the side, with a silver tie sparkling beneath the light above us. He stands tall with his hands buried in his pants pockets, shadows emphasizing the features on his gorgeous face as he looks down on me. The lines on his face, drawn stronger because of the shadows painting his expression, make him look older. I don't know his age, but the last time I saw him I would have guessed that he wasn't even thirty yet. Right now, I wouldn't be so sure of that assessment anymore.
"Stand up," he orders, taking a step back to give me some space to move.
I oblige, happy to stretch my legs a lot sooner tonight than the other nights before. Since I didn't trust my ears to hear his steps in advance, I always remained in position just in case he'd suddenly show up. The urge to please him was stronger than the discomfort caused by having to sit on my feet for an hour.
As soon as I stand up straight, he does the exact same thing he did last time: He circles me, slowly, patiently, his eyes gracing up and down my body. He pauses behind my back, causing my heart to flutter. I can neither hear nor see him, but I know he's there, staring. I tense, expecting a touch that doesn't happen. He just lingers out of sight, taking in my backside.
"Have you ever been spanked before?" he asks.
"Of course," I reply, suppressing a condescending chuckle. What kind of question is that? Spankings were a part of my job for years, and probably the best part. I never liked clients who didn't want to lay their hands on me like that.
"Hard?" he probes. "Hard enough to leave marks?"
My heart jumps. "Yes."
"Did you like it?"
"Very much."
"Did you deserve it?"
I giggle. "I always made sure of that."
A sharp inhale laced with traces of a yelp flees my lips when his hand lands on my ass. A burning ache flows through me for a second before it turns into hot afterglow. Shit, that hurt.
"Like that?"
My voice is trapped, the shock still cording up my throat as I process the sudden impact. I nod quietly.
I can hear him move, and a moment later he's standing so close behind me that I can feel his breath on my neck—and his hardness poking me just above the throbbing skin on my ass. I fight the urge to lean back into him, or to reach back and get ahold of his length. I've always been impatient when something was luring me in. I was never the kind
of girl who could wait for her treats.
But he is making me. He told me never to move unless he tells me to. So that is what I will do, even when I feel his lips on my neck, even when he skims my skin with kisses that are barely more than a whisper. I close my eyes, tilting my head back and leaning into him while he places his hands on my hip, his fingers digging into the flesh on my hip bones.
A moan escapes my lips, mingling with the sound of my erratic breathing.
"Fuck, that was a beautiful sight, Elene," he whispers right next to my ear. "You sitting there waiting for me, being such an obedient good girl. I'm very impressed."
A smile plays at the corners of my mouth.
"Are you wet for me?" he wants to know. "Did your cute little pussy get ready to be ravaged by me?"
The heat that's blossoming on my cheeks only intensifies when his hands echo his words, traveling down to my center from both sides. His body leans into mine, his erection poking me from behind while his strong arms shield my front. I sigh with relish when his fingers find my soft lips, gently pinching the sensitive flesh.
"You want to come again, don't you?" his voice hovers behind my ear. "I bet your pussy will drip all over my hand again, throbbing and clenching while I give you what no one else ever could."
I mewl my reply, parting my legs in an attempt to urge him on. But he doesn't move his fingers, and just keeps them resting right there, so freaking close to my clit that I feel like I'm about to burst with tension. I feel dizzy, confused, and so agitated by everything he's done. Making me climax with just his fingers, forcing me to wait for five days. My head dazed with anticipation every single night, my core throbbing and my heart racing, always to no avail.
And now he's taking it slow, teasing me with filthy words, a coy touch and an erection I'm so eager to touch but not even allowed to see.
"Tell me, Elene," he breathes, grinding his length against my back as his fingertips travel further down. "Have you touched yourself in the past few days?"
A moan breaks the silence in the room when he parts my folds, sliding between them with ease and gracing my swollen bud with two fingers. Just like last time, even a soft fondle like this sends electric bolts through my core. He draws another moan from me when he decides to circle my clit in wide rotations, barely coming in contact with the most sensitive spot.
"Answer me."
Have I touched myself and thought about him during the past five days? The honest answer to that question sends a glow of embarrassment up to my face.
"Yes," I reply truthfully.
"Did you think about me while you touched yourself?" he presses, his motions intensifying as he continues to massage my clit. "Did you fantasize about my cock stretching your little pussy while I fuck you? Rough—just like you need it?"
"Yes," I breathe, sticking to the truth once again.
"Good girl."
He praises me, but as soon as the words are spoken he withdraws his hand from my core, leaving me trembling with lust and disappointment.
A confused sigh flees my mouth when he moves away from me. I stand alone with nothing to hold onto, robbed of his comforting proximity while my skin is radiating a shameful glow.
He reappears in my eyesight, positioning himself in front of me about three feet away. A strand of dark brown hair falls into his face when he juts his chin forward, locking me down with his gray and promising gaze.
"You're not coming on my fingers tonight," he says, and just as I am made to believe that he will finally let me see and feel more of him, he shatters those hopes by adding: "You're coming on your fingers tonight."
I gasp in shock, instinctively shaking my head. "No, please—"
"It's what I want," he cuts me off. "And you agreed to play by my rules, didn't you, Elene?"
Why does he insist on calling me by my name? Is it because he knows what that does to me? Is it because he can see the way my heart flutters every time I hear my name cross his lips? Because it does. He has such a tender way of addressing me, always lacing it with a dark promise that makes me shaky.
"Kneel."
I sink down to the floor on instinct, my eyes glued to his, filled with a silent plea that he chooses to ignore.
"Spread your thighs as much as you can," he adds once I'm kneeling before him.
My legs obediently move apart, exposing my glistening core. I can't believe he's making me do this. Why does he torture me like this? Why can't we just—
"I want to see how you do it," he says, stepping closer. "Show me how you touched herself. Show me what you do to make yourself come."
I whimper helplessly, as if he'd just asked to me give up my most sacred secret. In a way that's exactly what he's doing . I've never masturbated in front of a man. No client ever asked me to; no one I was ever with voiced such a request at me.
No one ever cared about my pleasure as much as he does.
"Elene," he snarls. "Do it. Now."
I swallow hard, overcome by a blend of humiliation and arousal while my left hand moves between my thighs. I lean back, supporting myself on the floor as I begin to play with myself, my fingertips drawing slick lines around my clit while I try to find the right spot. His hand felt so much better there, but if this is what I have to do to finally feel him inside of me, then so be it.
He watches me and growls with approval when I make myself moan and grind on my own hand. A corrupted smile replaces his previous expression, drawing lines on his facial features that age him in the sexiest way possible.
"Beautiful," he says under his breath. "Fucking perfect."
His words cause me to pause, bringing painful clarity to my current predicament.
"Keep going," he urges, twirling his hand. "I want to see you come, Elene."
I nod, lowering my eyes for a moment, just long enough to notice the massive bulge that stretches his suit pants. The sight of it eggs me on more than his words do. My lips part on their own as my eyes rest on his crotch, only allowed to fantasize about what may hide beneath.
Of course, he notices.
"You want that cock, don't you?"
I bite my lower lip, a desperate plea written across my face when I look up at him. "Mm-hmm."
But he shakes his head. "Not before you give me what I want."
I could just fake it. I've done it so many times. I know what he wants to see; I know what I have to do to make men believe what they want to believe.
But he doesn't like to be lied to. In fact, he hates it with a passion. Does that mean that he's good at detecting a lie? Would he be able to tell if I fake it? What happens if he does?
I don't want to find out. Instead of considering a betrayal, I force my mind back to a place that will make lying redundant. I imagine his hands on me, his skilled fingers finding just the right place to tease, his lips locking onto mine for a passionate kiss while I spread my legs for him eagerly awaiting his assault. He must be enormous judging from what I could see so far and what I could feel pushing against me while we were standing. He would stretch me, maybe even hurt me. He could tear me apart with his steely girth while I squirm beneath his muscular body, helpless against the ecstasy overflowing through every fiber of me.
There it is.
A surprised gasp fills the room as the first wave of rousing thrill washes over me.
"Look at me!"
His command comes with an urge that makes it impossible to deny. Our eyes lock onto each other just as I peak, unable to control either my face or my body's movement as the ecstatic rapture tears me apart. He is panting heavily as he watches me climax under his command, studying me with an expression on his face that I would call shock if I didn't know any better.
I'm still floating with bliss when he reaches down to his bulge, opening the zipper of his pants in one swift and hectic move before he reaches inside, his face turning in agony as he fights to free his gigantic erection. Even in my dazed state of bliss I can't hide the amazement at the s
ight. He's massive, the tip of his member glistening with precum when he pulls it out and begins stroking it.
I want to reach up and help him. I want to see if my hand can reach around his impressive girth. I want to see the look on his face when I taste him for the first time.
But before I can gather myself to do any of those things, he takes a step closer, groaning loudly as he finds his own release, sprinkling my naked tits with heavy drops of cum.
Chapter 27
Damon
She's still panting, her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes dazed with the aftermath of her orgasm while my cum drips down her hard nipples, decorating her heaving chest and belly.
"Fuck!"
My exclamation is barely more than an angry breath hissed into the room while I stand there with my cock in hand, still twitching with aftershocks.
I did not plan this. It wasn't supposed to go this way, and I hate when things don't go according to plan. It makes me feel powerless, the least appealing feeling of all.
And she's only making it worse by looking at me like that, her eyes still begging, flitting back and forth between mine and my hard cock. Before I can stop her she's up on her knees, ignoring the fact that I try to retreat from her and holding onto my pants as she leans forward.
I groan when her tongue skims along the tip, licking up the drops of remaining cum. She draws along the lower side of my shaft, closing her eyes with relish while she cleans me. I want to stop her because she's acting against orders. She's doing all of this on her own accord, not awaiting the command as she's supposed to.
But she's so damn good at it.
I watch her lick up every last bit of cum before she wraps her lips around my hardness, moaning happily as she takes me in. Against better judgment, I lean into her, moving my hips forward to fuck her throat. She gags, hooking her finger on my waistband for support. A chuckle accompanies her coughing when she chokes on my length while I push as far as possible until I'm pressing against the back of her throat.
