by Jamie Knight
What he did was slide the bulk of his cock into my pussy, stopping at about half mast. Easing into it with short, sharp pumps, he kept going harder until he was pounding me so hard that the highlighters went bouncing from the table and onto the floor. My screams were muffled by his hand.
I felt the rushing flood as Damien came inside me, warming me to the core. I didn’t know if he had done it on purpose or not, but, either way, it was lovely. It was irresponsible and stupid, and I should have been worried, but, for some reason, the panic never really struck me.
I was too wrapped up in my feelings for Damien and my relief that he still wanted me. I didn’t know how it would affect things between us, it still being too early to call it a “relationship,” or what might happen when things got back to normal, but I decided to just enjoy it while we were there.
He braced me against him. Good thing, as my knees were being quite useless at the time. He released my braid and kissed me on my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
“More than okay. I love it. Though, I’m not sure you do.”
“Hey?”
“I mean, it’s really fun. Of course it is. But, you just seem a bit conflicted. I think we should talk about where we’re headed before we do it again.”
He gently pulled out of me, stroking my pussy as he went to make things go easier, filling me with pleasure once again. Damn, he was good at that.
“That’s fair,” he said, cleaning us both off, “to be honest, this is all pretty new to me, too. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I don’t know what will happen, especially with work, but I do want to keep doing it. Come what may.”
I could feel them fluttering in my stomach: huge, colorful butterflies of love and hope. As we finished the work for the day, I would occasionally glance at him. Damien appeared to have changed. For better or worse, I couldn’t quite tell, though I did hope that things could work out.
Chapter Seven
Emma
It was like veil was lifted. Things still weren’t perfect, of course, not at least because of the situation we were in. There were still a lot of unknowns, though I still felt like we were on much better footing. We’d had wonderful sex without things getting too uncomfortably weird when it came to work, at least not for very long, and we’d had something resembling an open discussion about it.
At the very least, I knew that that he had some sort of feelings for me, and that I had had affected him in a way no other woman ever had. It wouldn’t be right to call it “love,” but it was something powerful and beautiful, and not to be dismissed. Even if it turned out we were best as “fuck-buddies,” just two extremely sexually compatible friends who had fun, I was pretty sure I could handle that.
He was the only man I would ever let touch me; as long as we could be together in some capacity, I would at least be content. I wanted a lot more, though. Marriage, kids, a happy life together… but, I also knew that life is rarely that wonderful.
We worked clear though to dinner time. It was then, and only then, that I realized that we didn’t really have much food in the suite, and that delivery might be awkward. Donning a designer face mask and pure leather gloves, Damien went out to get groceries, coming back with several bags full.
Assuming he expected me to cook, I started to get up so I could go over and join him. My sweater and skirt had returned to their original state; I wanted him to fuck me again so badly, but I also knew that the work was really important. It was what we were there to do, after all. Keeping my focus on the work, I did my best to be a good girl for my sweet master.
“Sit,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” I said, instinctively going into my submissive voice.
“Sorry, I just need that script done. I am more than capable of cooking.”
“You are?”
“Of course I am. This kitchenette is actually pretty well set up. I’m going to enjoy this.”
Changing into a sweatshirt and shorts to avoid getting any unfortunate stains on his lovely work clothes, Damien set about cooking a gourmet-level meal as I finished the last of the scripts before we went into dictation.
“Wow!” I said, nearly orgasming at the first bite of food.
“Went to cooking school in Italy. I almost finished too.”
“Why did you quit?” I asked.
“Oh, I didn’t, my parents found out what I was doing and ordered me back immediately. Or, rather, my father did. My mom was an opera singer who had more of an appreciation for the arts. Dad’s personal motto was, ‘If it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense.’ Grammar was never his strong suit.”
I giggled, nearly choking on the mouthful I had been chewing at the time, making quickly for the glass of red.
After dinner, Damien cleared everything away as I finished off the script. It was amazing to watch him speed read. I didn’t know he could do it, even with the highlighting, but he did, getting through the entire script in a little over a half hour. When he was finished, I had a bit of a break as he processed it all, lying on the couch, eyes closed, his fingers steeped on his chest. He was like Sherlock Holmes trying to unravel a mystery.
He jumped up in a way that made me scream a little in surprise, apparently full of new vim and vigor.
“Get out the laptop!” he said like a declaiming king.
Immediately obeying, I tried desperately to keep up as he dictated his argument, pacing around the room at high speed. I only understood about half of what he said, but still took it all down as faithfully as I could.
It was wonderful, being naked. I had never been great friends with the notion of bras; the one that I was wearing was flung across the room with abandon. Getting into something a lot more comfortable, fleece pants and a hoodie, I turned down the duvet, ready to go to bed as Damien reviewed the dictation, editing as needed. The knocks were light and rapid. There was only one person in the world it could be.
“Hi,” Damien said, having calmed down a lot since his strike of inspiration.
“Hello, sir,” I said, not sure if we were still being business-like or not.
“Could you be a dear and go down to the desk to see if they have Kicking Horse? I’m neck-deep in the revisions and need a pick-me-up. I meant to get some at the store, but the shelves were bare. I called down to have them send some up, but they’re not picking up.”
“Okay,” I said, ready and willing to fulfill his every wish and command.
Skipping the silent elevators, I took the stairs down to the lobby; I was pent up with quite a bit of sexual energy that I figured I would have to work out myself, with Damien being so busy. The girl at the desk was nice enough, if a little ditzy, especially for someone working in such an elite hotel as the Seventy.
“Really?” she asked though her mask. “Didn’t see a light flashing or anything. Really sorry about that.”
With several more apologies, she went into the back and came out a few minutes later, still apologizing, but also carrying a bag of ground coffee, which was really the most important thing.
I pushed the button for the elevator, once again tuckered out enough to want to go to bed. It had been a long but productive day, and the project was nearly finished. It really was a masterpiece of evidence and reason. I didn’t know much about such things, but I really couldn’t see a way that he could lose.
The lock clicked softly, granting me entrance to the suite. Damien was nowhere to be seen, so I figured he must be in the shower or something. Putting the bag down on the counter of the kitchenette, right next to the coffee maker so it would be easy to find, I went to the adjoining bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I went.
I could have cried, the shock so severe and sudden I actually dropped to my knees. In the middle of the bedroom, naked as the day he was born, was my sweet master, his beautiful cock hard and ready to pleasure me. Scattered around him on the floor were pink and white rose petals, formed in the shape of a heart and repeated on the bed itself. So,
that was why the clerk hadn’t seen any calls. It was all a cunning ruse to get me out of the room. Very clever.
“I’ve called for room service. They will be up in about an hour to set up so we can eat after. I figure you’ll need some energy when I get through with you… Though, for right now, why don’t we get right down to it and celebrate our love properly?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, tears of joy streaming down my face.
He scooped me up into his strong arms and carried me over to the bed.
Chapter Eight
Damien
She really was quite light. I loved being able to carry her around, her arms wrapped around my neck, her face pressed gently to my chest. I walked though the roses, laying her down in the middle of the heart. Her legs opened as though by instinct, so I backed away to look at her. It was interesting how closely her delicate, pink pussy resembled the delicate, pink petals.
I worked my way up her thighs with long, loving caresses, gently stroking my sweet little pet when I got there. She hummed and moaned beautifully, letting me know how much she loved it and how much I was pleasuring her. I had always been thought of as kinky, but there was something no one really knew:
Far from getting off on causing pain, as was the negative stereotype, I was actually after pleasure, not for me, but for the one I was with. I was kinky, to be sure, but my kink was something of a rare one; basically, I got more pleasure out of giving pleasure than getting it. Watching the expression of pure bliss on a lover’s face, or hearing their screams of unbridled joy, did me in every time.
Getting her nice and relaxed, I reached over with my other hand and slid open the drawer in the nightstand. I did it quietly, so that she wouldn’t look over and see it before I was ready, so she wouldn’t ruin the surprise. I had done a lot in the room to prepare for her arrival, even with the short window of time I had. The petals on the floor and the bed were just the start of it.
I usually liked to use handcuffs; they restricted movement a lot more effectively than anything else, except maybe zip-ties, but they were dangerous. Not wanting Emma to get hurt, I went pretty far the other way, producing from the drawer, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, three lengths of silk rope.
Emma cooperated beautifully as I bound her hands, bringing them above her head and running the rope through the middle three rails on the headboard. Bringing the two ends back down, I carefully tied each of her wrists using a slipknot; it was easy to release, just not by her. After securing the two remaining ropes to posts at the foot of the bed, I tied her ankles, leaving her spread eagle on the bed.
I stroked her cheek to let her know all was well. She nuzzled my hand and kissed it. A merciful and generous master, I gave her two of my fingers to suck, which she did with great gusto.
Running my hand over her chin, down her neck and between her tits, I continued down, over her belly, across her pelvis and onto her pussy. Leaving my fingers there for a moment, I began to stroke her on the outside of her pussy in slow, hard circles, each one passing right over her clit. She moaned long and deep, her eyes closed with pleasure.
Laying a hand on her belly, I angled my fingers and slid them up inside her in such a way that each stroke would hit both her clit and her G-spot. Using a gentle, ‘come here’ motion, I pleasured her sweet little pussy, bringing her to a massive G-spot orgasm.
I could hardly believe I had actually found her: a women I could honestly, deeply love, in the way written about in books. I had given up long ago, deciding such whimsical notions to be as real as Oz or Neverland, that they were ideas made up by mere mortals and sold to others to help them feel better about the cold emptiness of existence... I was something of a cynic at the time.
The more I was with Emma, though, the more I began to question my long-held opinions. I still believed that there were things people said to get by, little white lies told, particularly to ourselves, to make life easier. However, I was beginning to suspect that love was not one of them.
When she was ready, I started in on her again, working her up in a similar way as before. This time, however, when I felt her beginning to cum, the strong, young muscles of her tight, pink pussy getting tight around my fingers, making the fit even more snug than usual, I stopped.
She actually whimpered as I held fast, my fingers still inside her, her body visibly relaxing as she came down from a near-orgasmic high. When she had gotten all the way back down, I started again, harder, building her up once more, even faster than before, to the very tipping end of a massive, G-spot orgasm. Again, I stopped at the crucial moment, slowly moving my fingers as she came back to Earth, enough to feel good, but not enough to make her come.
“Please, master,” she begged, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
That was what I wanted to hear. Using my other hand to press down on her pelvis to increase the pressure even more, I worked her pussy hard, making her feel every movement, hitting all the right spots each time. Within minutes, she was coming all over the place. Were it not for the ropes, I was sure she would have been thrashing about. Even with them, it was quite clear the level of ecstasy to which I had brought her.
Slamming back down on the bed, panting hard, Emma looked at me imploringly. Getting the wipes I had stowed in the drawer, I cleaned her up nice, kissing her all over, from face to feet, when I was finished. It appeared as though my sweet Emma I liked having her toes sucked. I made a mental note.
My cock was still quite hard at that point. Watching her cum like that making me more excited than anything. I loved watching her orgasm, or get close and then not. It was a beautiful agony for both of us.
When she had settled down, I joined her in the rose heart, kneeling between her spread legs. Holding her pussy open with my hands, I leaned down, and gave my pet a long, loving lick along her sweet pussy lips.
A moan rose up out of her, long and heartfelt, settling down into a series of gasps and moans as I kept licking, using every formation I knew to get her to three orgasms in a row. They were a bit more subtle then what I had done with my fingers, though Emma didn’t seem to mind one bit. Licking her until she was squeaky clean, it was time for the big show.
Kissing my way song her body, blazing a trail from her pussy to her mouth, I gently mounted Emma, the head of my cock teasing her wet and ready pussy. Taking my cock by the base, I slid in the head, relishing the view as Emma closed her eyes and rose along with me.
Working with just the head for a while, I gradually introduced the rest until I was all the way in, my balls pressing gently against Emma’s beautiful, shapely ass. If I thought she could handle it, I would have tried putting it in her ass, but there was a bit too much of a chance of shocking, or worse, harming her, neither of which I wanted to do.
When she was ready, I pulled back to about three-quarters depth and pounded back in, Emma gasping and rising as I did. I did it a few more times, Emma moving right along with me, taking it like a champ.
After a few more minutes of hard fucking, I eased back a bit, getting to about half depth and starting in again, thrusting at a more regular rhythm.
“Moan, pet,” I said, giving permission for what I knew she wanted to do anyway, “Let me hear you.”
Emma let loose with loud and heartfelt moans as I fucked her, working her clit with my massive cock.
She came first, shuddering hard enough that I could feel every tremble against me. I didn’t want to risk coming inside her again, so I carefully pulled out and fed her my cock.
She sucked enthusiastically, taking in every morsel of my massive load, smiling around my cock as she did so. She continued to passionately suck my hard cock long after I was finished, gently nursing a second load up from my balls and into her sweet little mouth, licking me clean when she was done like a good girl.
I caressed her face and kissed her gently. The moment was somewhat broken by a brief, brisk knock on the door, which was the room-service head letting me know they were done. I had asked to be notified so we wouldn
’t be accidentally walking out to the other room naked while they were still setting up. As much as I loved screwball comedies, I stopped short of wanting to live in one.
“Dinner?” Emma asked, ever astute.
“Indeed.”
Releasing her from her bounds I carried her to the bathroom, her arms not quite to full working order, which I knew could happen, particularly with newbies.
Sitting her on the toilet, I drew back the heavy curtain on the exquisite marble-tiled shower, done in purest dove white, making it look like a shower in Heaven. Getting the water just right, I lifted my darling pet into the shower, following soon after.
When we were both nice and drenched by the flowing water, I started on her braid, slowly unraveling it, twist by exquisite twist.
“How long does this take to do?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Depends. My record is an hour, but it usually takes one and a half to two, sir.”
“Makes sense,” I said, her beautiful, raven hair cascading down to the small of her back.
Getting everything out and loose, I took a handful of the salon-quality shampoo they happened to have in the bathroom and started running it through her hair, getting up a nice lather and giving her a scalp massage in the process. She put her head back into my hands and moaned softly as I rubbed, clearly liking what I was doing.
It might seem strange, but some of the most intimate activities are the ones few would consider. It takes almost more trust for most people to let someone touch their face or neck than some of the more traditional erogenous zones.
While not explicitly sexual, they are still extremely sensitive, and, in the case of the neck, particularly vulnerable. That was part of the reason I never did breath play; I just wasn’t confident enough in my skills in that particular area. I also approached hair-pulling with extreme cation.