Profit & Lace: A Dark MMF Romance

by Abby Angel

  I turned my attention to Victor, staring him straight in the eye as I begin to shift my hips back and forth from side to side just like I had earlier in the evening but now it is a totally different feeling. My pussy begins to tingle as his eyes widened at the sensations of my tight ass gripping his cock. I lift myself up just a little bit and then settle myself back down. This little movement causes his eyes to roll backward in it was head and for his entire head to flop back against the couch cushions. Plus 1 and I take a victory lap and I celebrate with a more intense sensation of pleasure emanating from my pussy. Yeah I'm getting into this.

  So is Victor. I am bouncing up and down on his cock with my ass and he grabs my hips. I allow my arms the bend just a little bit pushing my tits into his face as he helps me lift on and off of his thick long cock.

  I had said earlier in the evening that I had one move and one move only I probably should have qualified that statement at the time, so I will do it now, I have one move and one move only when it comes to things you might do when not actually fucking a man. However once that man's cock is in my ass I have several moves and it is my plan to try them all on Victor.

  Let's start by changing the angle. By leaning forward just a little bit more I get the twofer special by pressing the soft sensitive skin of my breasts tighter to his face but it also changes the angle of which I pull on and off of his cock. It is pretty obvious that Victor is enjoying this change of angle because he is moaning into my cleavage yet again. Plus1.

  Move number two. Keeping the same angle but change pace. Despite the insistence of his hands that are on my hips I pause at the highest point and I let myself fall just a little bit quicker. Again it is obvious that Victor is enjoying this. Plus1 with a booby-moan-multiplier of times 55.

  Move number three. Long sloe strokes. This requires a little bit more strength but it is well worth it. I use my grip on the couch to lift myself farther off of his cock than I have before what was a three or 4 inch lift is now almost 10 inches I can feel the flaring part of the head of his cock threatening to slip out of my ass before I lower myself back onto him.

  "That feels so fucking good."

  And he speaks! Plus1.

  Move number four isn't exactly a move unto itself it is more of a skill. Move number four is my personal favorite. The reason that I like it so much is that it creates a number of different sensations almost at the exact same time inside of me. I simply move my hips left to right as I'm taking the long strokes on and off of Victor's cock. I employ this little technique and Victor notices immediately. I'm not collecting points for this one because it benefits me as much as it benefits him.

  Victor is doing an admirable job of holding onto my hips and helping me as I employ move number five. Much like move number four, move number five is more of a skill set that it is an actual technique into itself. The trick here is to combine moves one through four in different combinations to finally get him off.

  This is another experiment for the night part of what happens here is that I get to figure out that special little recipe that's going to drive Victor absolutely nuts and send him over the edge. I am trying everything. Changing my pace during a long stroke or twisting my hips during the short stroke. Then a short stroke followed by a long stroke and then a fast long stroke coupled with a short and slow with a slow short stroke.

  Victor is digging his fingers into the flesh of my hips and it feels so wonderful. I have always love just a touch of pain with my pleasure and Victor with his strong hands is applying just the right amount of pain. This is going so well that I'll take an extra point. Plus1.

  The problem is that it's not working quite as well as I wanted to. I'm trying to formulate a new combination of my moves to finally figure out what is going to take to finish Victor off when his fingers digging into my hips and he flings me off of him to the side so that I'm on the couch next to it.

  This time it is me who does not have time to react Victor is grabbing my hips and positioning me so that I'm kneeling on the couch just like I had been when I was straddling him but now he's behind me.

  I don't have time to form a question or speak any words when I feel the tip of his cock pressing against my ass. My ass is ready and without any hesitation I feel him enter me again. His fingers are digging into my hips adding that little twinge of pain that makes this so much sweeter than it could have been just normally.

  What really makes this hot is that Victor is finally in control.

  “Oh fuck yeah. God damn that feels so fucking amazing."

  His words make my pussy quiver. plus10. He doesn't stop talking. It is like Victor is using the thrust of his 12 inch cock into my ass like punctuation." that's it." he says as he pulled his cock almost completely out of me." your ass is so sucking tight." the heat of his body pressing against mine ending the sentence.

  As he continues to pound me his pace picks up he still pulling me almost completely off of his cock and then slamming himself forward into me but with a pace that is quickening with each and every thrust. His words are continuing to come in time with his fucking. And his words are getting dirtier.

  "That ass is going to be worth every penny."

  That is one element I had not thought of until this very moment. When he set mentioned bending money to purchase me my pussy took over. I can feel myself leaking. My soaked panties despite being crotch less are clinging to me. I'm pretty sure that I have lost control at this point. I know I have lost control of my mouth.

  "Fuck me like you own me."

  Is that really me? Did I say that out loud?

  "That's right, bitch, I own your ass."

  "Oh yes, Master, fuck me like I'm your property. Shove that cock in me. Shove the cock in that ass you bought."

  Holy shit, this is hotter than I ever expected it to be. And, I expected it to be pretty damn hot.

  How did my hand and a between my legs rubbing my clit?

  I don't have time the ponder the finer details because…

  I lost my ability to focus on anything in the room and I lost the ability to hold my self up all I can do is focus on what is happening inside of me. All that matters to me right now is this mixture of my own, mind numbing, orgasm and the pulsing of Victor's cock pumping his come into my ass. I manage one conscious controlled thought and that was to freeze this memory for the rest of my life.

  In the moments after anal sex I have always felt a sense of emptiness for just a moment after the man pulls out of me for obvious reasons. That void is much larger now that Victor is no longer inside of me. I slumped to the side and curl into a little ball at the end of Victor's couch and I'm smiling because I now have first-hand experience and let me tell you for me bigger is better.

  "Plus1 million points with shooting stars." I mumble softly.

  "What was that?"

  "Oh, nothing," I say forcing myself to sound alert." I'm hungry, what you normally do for dinner?"

  Vivian

  With one last happy sigh, I roll off the bed and head for the living room where I’d ditched my suitcase, and pulled it back into the bedroom. Looking around the apartment with a critical eye, I can’t help mentally patting myself on the back for thinking ahead. I had just known that he’d think that glass and chrome were some sort of decorating style. What is up with bachelors thinking that “black” is a color you can decorate with? Hadn’t they heard that pink was the new black?

  Well, no fear – I am here. I can get this apartment in shape in no time.

  Victor, who had been lounging in bed, watching my every move from his spot on the bed, starts to watch a little closer when he sees me pulling out my wares – large swathes of pink gauze with tiny sparkles in it that catches the light and makes the room light up with sunlight and warmth. It can warm up any space, even this tribute to black and chrome that Victor has going on.

  “Wait – what are you doing?” he asks, jackknifing into a sitting position. “What is all of that shit?”

  “The new decor here,” I say
, pulling armfuls of the stuff out of my suitcase. I wander over to the window that overlooks the city and look down at the street below. Very New York…very industrial. Very not-me-at-all.

  I start spiraling the gauzy fabric over everything – over the window, down the side, over the awful industrial-style desk in the corner, and up the side of the dresser.

  “Vivian, you can’t—”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think you should call me Kitten,” I interrupt, standing back to judge the effect better. I adjust some folds in the gauze. “In all of the naughty books out there, the dom always has a nickname for their slave that is better than ‘slave.’ I’ve been thinking about it and decided that Kitten was a good name.”

  I wait for him to congratulate me on spending the time and energy to research this kind of thing, but instead, he just makes these strange sputtering noises.

  Huh.

  I ignore that for a minute to dive back into my bag and pull out my pièce de résistance – a purple and pink fairy with gold-tipped wings. I put that on the corner of the desk, moving it so it’s facing in towards the center. “Now it can watch over everything that you do, and make sure that you’re doing it right,” I explain. That fairy was how I passed statistics in college. It is a good luck charm that I don’t share lightly.

  He should feel very lucky that I brought it over here. I wait impatiently for him to say thank you, but he doesn’t say anything at all, so I head to my suitcase to see what else I need to unpack. Oh, right! Toiletries. I carry armloads into the bathroom and begin arranging it on the counter.

  My stomach rumbles as I work, and I realize I haven’t eaten in hours.

  “So as your sex kitten, what do you have to feed me?” I ask, pulling my clothes and shoes out of my bag and putting them into the closet. I had to rearrange his clothes a bit to fit it all in, but I know he doesn’t mind. A sex kitten needs to have space to put all of her lingerie, you know.

  I have done so much research on BDSM relationships in the last day, I feel like I could practically give a class on it at this point. Something Victor hasn’t thanked me for yet, but soon, I’m sure.

  “Food? I usually just go to the club to eat dinner.”

  I send him A Look and say, “Yes, that’s fine, but what about on nights when you don’t want to go out?”

  He does this really adorable impersonation of a fish, but nothing comes out. I sigh.

  “Listen, as your sex kitten, I do need food. I’m wanting Chinese. Let me write it all down for you so you can make sure to get it right. Over time, I’m sure you’ll get my needs memorized, but right now, I’ll help you along.” I search through his horrendous industrial style desk for a pad of paper and a pen and then scribble my order down. I add a little heart in the lower right-hand corner with an arrow through it for extra “oomph.” He’s going to love that part.

  “Here you go. See you soon?” I ask sweetly, crawling over the bed and planting a kiss on his lips. I roll off the edge of the bed quickly and head to the living room. It is exhausting to become someone’s sex kitten; I need a little downtime to relax. I flick the TV on. I’m sure TMZ has something fun to watch.

  Victor

  I take a deep drink of my scotch, staring down into its amber depths helplessly. This is not a normal state of being for me. I am usually in control in all aspects of my life, from who I date to where I live to what I drive, and I don’t deal well with someone coming in and changing shit up on me.

  Especially not a chick. Granted, Vivian – Kitten – is the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and just being in the same room as her makes it hard to breathe. And I have never met a woman who could give head like she can. When she stretches her mouth open wide and looks up at me with those giant brilliant green eyes, I have a hard time saying no.

  Yes, green by the way. And not a muted, muddy green mixed with brown. No, her eyes are these sparkling green jewels that make me think of the Irish countryside.

  I heave a great sigh and swirl my scotch again.

  “What?” Apollo asks, staring at me.

  “What?” I repeat, confused.

  “You were mumbling something.”

  Oh. Whoops. God, now I’m not even in control of my own mouth.

  I stare at him, hesitating. I really want advice, but I also really don’t want to admit that I don’t know what the fuck I am doing. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.

  But then I finally realize – this is Apollo. I don’t have a “reputation” to uphold with him. If I can’t ask my closest friend for help, who can I ask? And it’s not like I’m figuring this out on my own.

  “I am a billionaire,” I say through gritted teeth. “I have enough money that God doesn’t even attempt to keep up. I have women fawning over me, wanting just a moment of my time, hoping I’ll agree to take them back to my apartment for a night of fucking.

  “And then, somehow, only God knows how, I ended up with a woman in my apartment who decorates it in pink – pink, pink, everywhere pink! – and demands that I order in the food that she wants to eat each night and watches TV and wears the most amazing lingerie…”

  I trail off as I remember the baby doll that Kitten had put on the other night, and then had crawled towards me, her tits swinging freely with each movement of her arms, and my dick…

  Then and now, it’d sprung to attention. I shift in my chair, trying to will my cock back into submission. Now is not the time to get a hard-on.

  “How did this happen?” I ask miserably. “I don’t know what to do with a virgin. I thought I could train her to be my sex slave but instead all that’s happened is she’s training me to tolerate the color pink. Kind of.”

  “It’s all Dark Angel’s fault,” Apollo says seriously.

  I stare at him. It’s like my friend has started speaking a variation of English that I just don’t comprehend. “A dark angel came down and bopped her on the head and is making her—”

  “No, no. Dark Angel. She’s an author on Amazon. Women love her. They think that all relationships should be like the ones in her books.”

  “Hold on, isn’t the ereader for Amazon books a Kindle?” I ask, this conversation triggering a memory for me. When Viv…Kitten isn’t watching some godawful show on TV, she’s reading. A lot. She did ask me the other day why I couldn’t be more like these heroes and I just had no clue what she was talking about. She’d just set her tablet off to the side and I noticed “Kindle” across the back.

  “Yup. Does she read constantly?”

  “Yeaaahhhhh…”

  “Does she sigh happily when she’s done with a novel?”

  “Yeaaahhhhh…”

  “She’s been bitten by the Kindle bug. She has expectations for you and how you’re supposed to act, and my guess is, based on your hang-dog look, you’re not fulfilling those expectations. When I finally read through Dark Angel’s whole catalog, I knew what Ashley wanted from me. My advice? Go home and open up her Kindle. Is she at home tonight?”

  “No, she’s out with some friends.”

  “Perfect. Skim through some of her ebooks. All of the answers will be there.”

  I push my chair back with a renewed sense of purpose. It is about time I figure Kitten out, and make us both happy.

  Vivian

  I sit back in my barstool and munch on chips and salsa. It’s fun to hang out with my besties, even if it isn’t exactly what I had planned for the evening. Victor had said he wanted to go out with some of his friends, though, and just sitting at home by myself on a Saturday night didn’t exactly sound like an awesome idea to me.

  “So…what is it like to be someone’s sex slave??” Ashley asks, wiggling her eyebrows at me lasciviously.

  I shrug.

  “I thought it was going to be a lot more exciting than this,” I admit. “I mean, the sex has been good – amazing, really – and it’s fun, but…exciting? Not really. We had buttsex the other night and that was awesome. We can’t have vagina sex ‘cause of th
e auction, of course. But…I just thought we’d do more things, like handcuffs and swinging from the rafters—”

  “Swinging from the rafters? You thought you guys would, what, rent a warehouse for the evening?”

  I laugh at the thought. “No. I just…I don’t know. Something more than what we’ve been doing. No spanking, no dirty talk, no vibrating toys…it’s just all been rather vanilla. He is supposed to be training me, although god only knows what I’m supposed to be learning from this training. All I’ve learned so far is that he doesn’t like The Real World on MTV. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help me when they put me up for auction.”

  I panic for a moment at the thought of going up on stage and being auctioned off. What if it’s some old man with nose hair who buys me? And his dick is all wrinkly and he can’t keep it up long enough to fuck me anyway?

  I push the thought away. I can’t focus on all the what-ifs or I’ll go crazy. In the meanwhile, I need to focus on the final goal: What I’m going to do with the money.

  “So I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I want to start a bakery with the money that I get,” I announce. “I mean, other than paying off all my debts. But I’ll have a lot leftover and why not use it to become my own boss? I’ve been experimenting in the kitchen lately ‘cause even I can’t handle twelve straight hours of MTV and I have nothing else to do, except for read of course, and I actually really like cooking.”

  “You do?” Carla asks, eyes wide with surprise.

  “I know, right? I never would’ve guessed that. I think my marketing degree is actually pretty worthless, which is a sad statement about this economy if you ask me. But I’ve been trying for forever now to get hired, and I can’t even get a first interview. And who wants an awful boss anyway? Why not become my own boss? The money could keep me afloat for a while until the bakery is self-sufficient. After all, most of the cost of a business is the start-up costs, right? And I could just pay those out of pocket. I made this gluten-free strawberry muffin the other—”