by Zoe Blake
Caring little about the patrons who circled our small enclosure, I slid my hands along the tops of his thighs, hissing as the still throbbing skin of my right forearm grazed the fabric of his trousers. It burned but not as much as that first sting when the hot wax made contact. Now it was a dull ache that still heightened my senses and made me even more aware of each movement and breath.
The pain–pleasure connection.
Pulling open the flaps of his trousers, Richard fisted the length of his cock and pulled it free.
Holy hell.
He was even bigger than I imagined. It was a leviathan. Thick and long, it jutted halfway up his muscled torso. Tentatively, I reached out my hand to touch the pulsing length. He felt smooth and hot, the purple tip shining with pre-cum. I held my hand up; he was almost twice the length over my fingertips.
Richard spread his knees wider and used the hand that was still on the back of my neck to push me forward.
“Have you ever deep throated a man?”
His blue eyes turned almost black in the dim light as he asked the question. His jaw tensed as he waited for my response.
“Never,” I breathed. It was the truth.
You could see his body somewhat relax. It might sound crazy, but somehow, I felt as if my answer had been yes, he would have demanded a name and that man would be dead by morning.
Richard moved forward in his seat as he gripped his cock. “Open your mouth.”
“Richard, I don’t know if—”
“Elizabeth. Open. Your. Mouth. If I have to force you I will, but I’d much rather you do this willingly. This time.”
Feeling the power of his presence and his words, it wasn’t a matter of my not having a choice. I actually wanted to do this. Wanted to please him. Wanted to once more stretch the limitations of my comfort zone and experience the level of pain and pleasure his eyes promised.
I wanted to play his game.
Rising up on my knees, I tilted my head back… and opened my mouth.
“Good girl, like my baby bird, begging to be fed.”
Unable to suppress a whimper, I tried to control the trembling of my lips as the large purple head slipped past them. Closing my eyes, as his hands wrapped around my head, I braced for what I knew was coming next.
This was going to hurt.
He thrust his hips forward the same moment he pulled my head down. The hard length of his cock slid along my tongue to press painfully against the back of my throat. My shoulders hunched as I gagged. A small bit of foamy spittle slipped from my mouth to land at the base of his cock.
Uncaring, he pulled back and thrust again. This time I could feel the head slip deeper into my throat. My lips stretched around the base as my teeth dug into the underside of my tongue. Once more I gagged. My abdominal muscles clenched as my nails dug into his thighs.
Thrust after thrust, each one pushing deeper into my throat. I could imagine the outline of his cock bulging through the thin skin of my throat.
The musky scent of his skin filled my nostrils as I breathed heavily through them.
After a particularly violent thrust, tears slipped down my cheeks.
Richard eased forward on the chair to increase his leverage as he watched me struggle to swallow his cock.
“Eyes on me, love.”
I kept my teary gaze on him as my jaw began to ache. Spit dripped from the corners of my mouth onto his trousers. The swollen length punished my mouth and throat. I could feel every inch, even the ridge of the head as it slid over my sore tongue. Desperately I tried to keep my teeth from scraping along his length.
I began making obscene retching noises and moans. There was no doubt the patrons who surrounded us knew what was happening behind our glittering curtain of light and I didn’t care. In fact, it spurred me on. The idea that all of these people knew that I was debasing myself on my knees in front of this powerful, godlike man only increased my awareness of my own submission.
“That’s it, baby, swallow me down, like a good girl.”
The primal growl of his words spurred me on.
As my body accepted the pain of his thrusts, I frantically clawed at the layers of ruffles and fabric of my dress, desperate to touch myself. Finally, the tips of my fingers felt the silky, wet fabric of my panties.
My two middle fingers moved in circles over my silk-clad clit as I reveled in the pressure of his hands on my head as he guided me deeper and deeper onto his cock.
“Eyes on me,” he once more commanded. “I want to feel the tip of that pert little nose of yours against my stomach.”
My eyes widened in shock. Already I was struggling to accept his length but I could see there were still several inches before the base.
He pulled free. “Deep breath, baby.”
Taking a deep breath, I begged, “Richard—” That was all I was allowed to speak.
His cock pushed past my lips, across my tongue, then pressed against the back of my throat till the weakened ring of muscle gave in and he slipped deeper.
His hands tilted my head all the way back as he pushed in another inch… then another.
My lungs screamed for oxygen.
My jaw screamed in pain.
Tears ran down my cheeks.
Still… he pushed in another inch.
Richard groaned as he pushed another impossible inch of thick flesh down my throat.
I then felt just the faintest brush against the tip of my nose. My eyes flew open as I saw the tanned skin of his abdomen with just the faintest brushing of dark hair.
A sense of relief and pride rushed over me.
“Hold it. Keep your mouth open. Let me feel that tight throat,” he said through clenched teeth.
Increasing the pace of my fingertips, I focused on the feel of his warm sandalwood-scented skin against my nose.
Both our bodies were united. Tense and strained, building the pain to increase the pleasure.
With a rush of breath, he pulled free. I choked and gagged. Through my tears I could see him furiously fisting his cock, pumping up and down, knowing he had saved me from that at least.
Without having to be told, I leaned forward with my mouth open and tongue out. I was rewarded by a flash of his white teeth. His head then tilted back as he groaned. A white stream of warm cum landed on my tongue and lips.
“Stay right there. Don’t swallow yet.”
Leaving the salty cum pooled on the center of my tongue, my gaze followed his arm as it reached over the table. He held one of the delicate meringue swans in his large hand. Giving me a wink, he placed it on the tip of my tongue.
“When that melts, you can swallow.”
The creamy sugar sweetness immediately mixed with the musky saltiness of his cum.
As I obeyed, he placed his now only semi-erect cock back into his trousers and buckled his pants. I could feel the meringue cum slip over the edge of my tongue and begin to coat my lips.
Richard caressed my face as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“Swallow, my little bird.”
I obeyed.
Placing a finger under my chin, he lifted my face up.
“Now it’s your turn.”
Chapter 11
Richard
She looked beautiful in that moment. Her eyes bright with tears. Her cheeks stained crimson from her blushes. Her pretty mouth swollen and bruised.
Absolutely beautiful, and all mine.
“The game is not over. I want you to stand up.”
Grabbing her hands, I helped her to rise on shaking legs.
“Take off your dress.”
It was extremely entertaining watching the play of emotions cross her gamine face. She was fine sucking off my cock knowing people were listening but hesitated at baring herself to their possible glares. Interesting.
As it turned out, I was not in the mood to share her tonight. Especially knowing this would be the first time I was finally seeing her entire body.
Giving her a reassuring smile, I lifted
my knife and tapped the edge against my crystal wineglass three times. At the sound of the glass chime, a hush fell over the dining room. Then all that could be heard was the scraping of chairs.
Elizabeth turned and peeked through the illuminated curtain. I had no need. I knew what she was observing, an entire dining room filled with guests rising and silently filing out.
Granted, it was a slightly gratuitous show of power and wealth to book out one of London’s more popular and expensive restaurants only to fill it with paid staff, but I wasn’t just playing games with Elizabeth.
I was playing to win.
Nothing would be left to chance. I couldn’t risk some dumb ass waiter or guest suddenly feeling indignant or worse, chivalrous because then I would have to kill them for interfering with my plans.
Turning back to me, her brow was furrowed. “What is happening?”
“You know what is happening. Take off your dress.”
Emerald eyes glinting, she once more caught on to the excitement of our game. Keeping her gaze trained on me, she slid her hands over her hips; fisting handfuls of pink fabric, she slowly began to raise the hem high.
Rubbing my jaw, I couldn’t help but smile. I liked this playful teasing side she was showing.
Two could play at this.
Striking at her hands, I wrenched the now ruined gown over her head, exposing her pale skin. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Generous curves where you wanted them, the rest all smooth, sleek muscle. Her nipples were covered by pale pink lace as was her tight pussy.
Leaning over, I swiped my hand across the table surface. Clearing it of plates, glasses, and utensils in one shattering movement. All but the platter of meringue swans. Placing my hand on her trim waist, I lifted her high before laying her on the table.
A sacrificial offering.
Grabbing her ankles, I raised her knees high till she was splayed open for me. Twisting the delicate lace of her panties in my hand, I tore them off her.
“Now for the true feast of the evening,” I growled as I knelt before the table’s edge, her thighs pressing against my shoulders.
Inhaling deeply, I tried to place the jasmine floral scent. It must be her perfume clinging to her skin. My reports hadn’t found which one she favored. Once I had that information, I would make sure she never ran out of a bottle, for I would forever associate that warm spicy scent with this moment.
God, I loved how beautiful her pussy was. The soft curls of hair were short and trim but not completely shaved or in some unnatural triangle or slash. She looked like a woman. Pressing my thumbs against both lips, I spread her open. Leaning in, I flicked my tongue over her clit as I slid my thumbs a little bit higher, applying subtle pressure.
Elizabeth moaned as her back arched off the table.
Circling the tip with my tongue, I then pressed two fingers deep inside. Then a third.
She reached down and fisted my hair, pulling my head closer as she breathed my name.
Keeping my fingers thrusting at a steady pace, I kept up the assault with my tongue, flicking and circling her clit with practiced ease. For a moment I thought of the knives lying scattered across the floor. I wanted to pick one up and force the handle deep into her tight little ass, but I knew that was a lesson for another time. I couldn’t push her too hard or fast or she might balk and ruin my plans.
Her thighs pressed against the sides of my head as I drove her to new heights. The sweet sound of her climax slipped past her lips as her whole body tensed then relaxed, but I wasn’t finished with her yet.
Licking the cream from my lips, I rose and leaned over her supine body.
“Just one, baby girl? I don’t think so.”
Her head lolled from side to side. “No. I can’t. I’m too sensitive.”
Ignoring her pleas, I pushed a fourth finger into her tight pussy and pulsed them in and out. Her fingers splayed on the table as her hips rose.
“Yes. Oh, god! Yes!”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me a second time.”
Sliding my free hand over her now sweat-slicked skin, I wrapped my fingers around her throat and squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air… just enough to be a threat.
Her eyes widened as they lit with unholy desire.
My little one was quickly learning the euphoric delights to be had from the threat of violence and pain before pleasure.
Swiping the pad of my thumb over her clit as I gave one final pump of my hand, I leaned in and swallowed her orgasmic cries, tasting my own cum on her lips.
I placed another delicate meringue swan on her tongue and watched her lips purse as she pushed the sweet concoction around her mouth as it melted. Not being able to resist, I leaned in for another honeyed kiss.
She was nestled naked on my lap as we sat among the shards of crystal and china, surrounded by twinkling lights.
Her mass of tangled hair cascaded over my forearm as I traced circles on her smooth back. Using my free hand, I tugged on one of those curls. “So… what game should we play tomorrow?”
Chapter 12
Lizzie
“Ms. Larkin, are you paying attention?”
“Yes, Professor Handleson.”
No, Professor Handleson.
I’m too busy reliving the amazing, mind-blowing date I had last night with Mr. Perfect. I don’t think I slept a wink last night. I just kept lying in bed, thinking about Richard. I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around all the crazy details of our date. From the designer dress to the gorgeous and outrageously expensive brooch to the amazing meal and then of course… everything that followed.
I should have felt guilty and perhaps a little ashamed of my wanton behavior. I mean, I did give a man a blowjob in the middle of a restaurant. Sure, he had paid all the patrons to be there and look the other way, but I didn’t know that at the time. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I still blushed to think about stripping off my clothes and displaying myself on the table like a second dessert.
When I thought about it, I could still feel the hard wood along my back. The soft linen tablecloth balled up in my fists and the sepia-colored lights twirling and twinkling around me as if I were floating in a glass of champagne.
Then of course there was the feel of his tongue on my body. The expert touch of his fingers as they once more drove me to the edge and back. My nipples hardened as I relived every intense detail in my mind.
No, Professor Handleson, I was definitely not paying attention.
With a sigh, I tried to focus. It was only my second day of class and I really wanted to make a good impression. Daydreaming was not going to cut it.
“Begin pinning your patterns. By the end of class, you should have it cut out and sewn so that you are ready to begin distressing the fabric next class.”
We were studying Les Misérables’ costuming, essentially learning how to make a dress look old, filthy, and shabby. According to Professor Handleson you had to earn the privilege of sewing the more beautiful gowns you see on the period dramas of the BBC. While I certainly didn’t expect to be sewing replicas of Downtown Abbey costumes our first week, it didn’t occur to me that I would have to be excited for creating a dress that looked like it had been dragged through a sewer.
Once more my thoughts wandered to the Vampire’s Wife dress Richard bought me. A portion of the hem was torn as well as one of the sleeves but I would definitely be able to repair it easily enough. Looking down at my left shoulder, his diamond bird pin winked back up at me. Wearing black denim with patent leather flats and a soft heather grey sweater gave my outfit a very vintage Audrey Hepburn look, which I loved. Everyone assumed it was just a cool piece of costume jewelry, which of course I let them keep thinking, but I knew the truth.
I had been completely enthralled with Richard before I knew he had insane money and if he never gave me another dress or piece of jewelry I would still be equally transfixed by him. That being said, I did love receiving the gifts, not just for what they were but for what they represented. Surel
y, he didn’t give every woman he dated such extravagant thoughtful gifts?
My brow furrowed at the thought of him dating another woman. We hadn’t really talked about it. We had only been on two dates, one if you didn’t count the randomness of our first date. A man like him probably had a string of women, in multiple countries. My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to share him. Didn’t want to think about him playing our games with another woman.
Boy, did I have it bad! And I had only known the man for forty-eight hours. Can’t imagine how loony tunes I would be for him if this lasted more than a few weeks.
Looking down at the dark screen on my phone, there were still no texts from him. I had finally remembered to ask him his phone number last night. I still remember my shock when he pulled his mobile from his suit pocket. It really was extraordinary that during our entire date he didn’t take his phone out once, not even to glance at it quickly.
Surely a man worth billions, who owned probably hundreds of companies, would have people trying to reach him at all hours of the day. Whether or not there were other women, it made me feel special that he never looked at his phone when he was with me. I bet those imaginary other women couldn’t say that.
He did warn me he hates mobile phones and only uses them when absolutely necessary. So, I guess I shouldn’t have been expecting him to text me like a besotted teenager. All the same, it would have been nice if he at least answered my thank you text from last night.
Unable to resist, I tapped my phone, lighting it up. I tapped the text icon. It couldn’t hurt to double check.
Me: Thank you again for my beautiful present. Dinner was amazing. Especially dessert. ;) —Lizzie
Nothing. No response.
I had labored over that text for an hour last night, trying to strike the right casual tone. Maybe I shouldn’t have signed off as Lizzie? He did make it clear he preferred to call me Elizabeth. At first it felt strange, but I loved the sound of my name on his lips. His use of my formal name also helped me feel a bit older and sophisticated. A man like Richard wouldn’t date a young actress named Lizzie, but he would date a future fashion designer named Elizabeth.