I, Porn Star (I #1)

by Zara Cox

  “You have to wait, Lucky. Until my craving is seen to. Do you understand?”

  You’re not in control here. He said that to me in the kitchen this morning over the simple washing of a plate. I know it’s a thousand times more so in this room.

  “I do.”

  “Sit back down. Hands on the chair. Open your legs.”

  I obey.

  “Open wider.”

  My knees part until the sides brush the seat and I’m exposed. Soft air rushes over my core, touching and attempting to cool the wetness forming there. Heat flares up my neck and into my face.

  “Your pussy is beautiful, Lucky. So pretty, I almost don’t want to spoil it. But it belongs to me. It’s my property. So I’m going to desecrate it. You know that, don’t you? I’m going to smack, eat and pound it sore. Same with your ass.”

  I gulp in air. My thigh muscles quiver, but I’m unable to form words in the face of the powerful imagery he creates, so I remain silent.

  He drops to his knees. “But first, I need my kiss. Lean back.”

  I slowly relax my body until the top of my back touches the end of the bed. I’ve been in a few positions before in my life, but I’ve never felt this exposed, this vulnerable before.

  An exhalation of breath is all I get before firm, masculine lips bracket my bare pussy. My hips jerk and a hoarse gasp spills from my throat. Fire hot sensation races up my spine, arches my back. The natural instinct to shut my legs, contain the flames, is curtailed when merciless hands grab my knees and hold me open.

  Q doesn’t concentrate on a specific spot like my clit or my furnace-hot center. He’s making out with my whole pussy, drawing my lips between his and tasting me with the flat of his tongue.

  The sensation is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Already, my head feels woozy. Deprived of sight, my remaining senses zero in on the sexy, dirty kiss being bestowed on me. He’s eating me like I’m his favorite food. It feels good. So good.

  A guttural purr, transmitted with a distinct electronic wave fills the room.

  God, how is he doing that?

  He kisses me harder. The tip of his tongue flicks my engorged clit.

  “Oh!” Breath rushes from me. I tilt my hips forward, seeking more of that singular pleasure.

  He ignores my need and goes back to frenching my pussy. Warm, firm tugs pulls my flesh into his mouth, where he rolls my vulva over his tongue. The hood of my clit is pulled deep, strong, steady sucks further inflaming the turgid bundle of nerves. A long moan escapes me, and he raises his head.

  I wish I could see his expression. I wish I could drown out the unmistakable hum of the camera.

  I wish—

  “Fuck, you’re perfect. Taste so good.”

  Hands hook under my knees, throw my legs higher and wider. My head rolls back onto the bed and my fingers curl into the seat as he goes back for a deeper, longer taste. Pleasure spreads, thick and fast. My hips begin to writhe, my body caught in a relentless pursuit of its first bona fide, non-masturbation induced climax.

  “Oh God!”

  Q stops without warning. My head surges off the bed, although I can’t see anything.

  “Please.” I’m not sure why I whisper the word. Because I don’t want the camera to catch my plea? Because even though I’m begging for it, I’m not sure I can withstand the explosion I sense heading my way?

  “Do you want to come, Lucky?”

  I swallow hard and nod.

  “Whose body is this?” he asks.

  “It’s…yours.”

  He delivers another open mouthed kiss between my legs. “Whose pussy?”

  I have an inkling of where this is going. I don’t like it. “Yours.”

  “Whose cum?”

  My thighs shake with the force he has on my legs. “I…I’m…”

  “Whose. Cum?”

  “It’s yours, Q.”

  Maybe I imagine the shudder that runs through him. Maybe in saying those three words, something shakes loose inside me. Maybe I’m out of my mind.

  “Mine,” he growls. “So let me ask again. Do you want to come, Lucky?”

  “Yes. Please. But with your permission,” I reply. I’m a fast learner.

  It earns me another kiss. Then another. The melting resumes, intensifies. My head falls back. My arms ache with the tight hold I have on the seat.

  Hoarse sounds and electric hums mingle with my moans. I can’t escape the humiliating thought that what’s happening to me is being recorded. That I wouldn’t be here if the promise of an obscene amount of money didn’t wait at the end of my performance.

  But I also can’t stop the onrush of bliss gathering between my thighs. I gulp in air and exhale on a jagged moan. My nipples, already tights points of almost excruciating pleasure, chase against the russet half-Teddy as my breasts swell.

  Q alters the mood of his kiss. He lets go of my knees, curls his hands around my thighs, and uses his thumbs to part my pussy. The hood of my clit is exposed to his warm breath a split second before he tongues it with pointed, determined purpose. Just as I think I’m about to lose control, he dips lower, stabs my entrance with his tongue. The alternating attention teeters me on the brink, until colors begin to swirl across my bound vision.

  “Q…oh, God! Please,” I gasp. “I want…I need to come.”

  I don’t know if his deep grunt is permission or denial of it. He doesn’t relent in his ministrations.

  Knowing how close I’m skidding to damnation, I try again. “Please, may I come?” My voice is thick and rough. I’m gearing up to plead again, in case I was incoherent, when he hums against my pussy.

  “So fucking good. Want to keep licking this perfect cunt.”

  A thunder-strong tremor moves through me. I’m not sure how long I can hang on. I try gritting my teeth, but the eruption is counting down in big, fat letters with each flick of that wicked tongue. “May…may I come? Oh God, please?”

  “Taste it…” His voice is a hoarse, jumbled mess. “I want to taste it. Every drop.”

  “May I?”

  “Hmm. Yes, my little firecracker. Come for me… In my mouth.”

  A sob rips from my throat as I let go and surrender to the wave that slams into me. It rips me apart, and I want to drown in it almost as much as I want to protect myself from it. Q loosens his hold on me, but keeps my legs firmly open while he laps me up in hungry licks.

  “Fuck,” he mutters against me as I jerk through my bliss.

  Several whirs penetrate my fog of pleasure, and I wonder how many cameras he’s activated to record my climax. I start to stiffen, the idea that I’m enjoying this suddenly drawing ever-growing shame.

  I don’t know why I know he senses it, or why I know I’ve pissed him off. But when he pulls at me one last time, there’s a touch of cruelty that makes me wince.

  I feel him settle back on his legs. A second later he pulls off my shoes. “Crawl up on the bed. Make sure the blindfold stays in place.” The mechanical tenor of his voice still transmits an aroused hoarseness, but there’s implacable power as well as an edgy aggression that slices icy warning into my stomach.

  My languid body is still thrumming, but I do as instructed, travelling a little slower when I reach the top of the bed to avoid bumping into it.

  Plump satin pillows brace my body as I wait, hands once again at my sides.

  I sense him prowling the room. I know he’s watching me from the hyperawareness rippling beneath my skin.

  After a minute, I hear his zipper lowering. The muscles in my belly bunch. I’m dying to know when the blindfold is coming off, but I dare not ask. He warned me he might not be able to help hurting me. I’ve just had a taste of his cruelty. I don’t want to invite more.

  21

  NINE INCHES

  He retreats and I hear a click, the sound a handheld digital camera makes as it turns on. My trepidation and shame return. My knees are together, but I feel the imprint of his hands vividly on my thighs, reminding me how wide open
I’ve been to his digital eyes a few minutes ago.

  The bed dips and he prowls close. “Lower yourself down a little, I want to take the rest of your clothes off.”

  I scoot down and silently raise my hands. I don’t know if my initiative pleases him. He catches the hem of the half-Teddy and gently tugs it over my head. The blindfold doesn’t budge even a fraction. I hear a soft whoosh as the scrap of lace and silk is flung away. His breath catches. Then warm hands drift down the slopes of my chest to cup my breasts.

  “Fuck, I love these. You have perfect breasts, Lucky. Perfectly fuckable.” He squeezes and molds, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my nipples. My licked-dry pussy dampens, my breath uselessly frazzled.

  “Lie back,” he growls. “Arms above your head. I’m going to tie your hands.”

  I swallow the protest that rises to my throat. We agreed on a few hard and fast exclusions. But bondage, light or otherwise, wasn’t discussed. Disconcertion ramps moderately high as I lie back and raise my arms to the headboard.

  Firm ropes make short work of securing me to the bed before his mouth closes over one nipple. He sucks me hard and deep enough to flatten my nipple to the roof of his mouth. The sensation arrows white-hot flames straight to my pussy.

  His appreciative groan as he suckles me fires me up even higher. Until a deeper hum of a camera impinges my consciousness. I stiffen.

  He stills, releases my nipple. “You’re going to have to stop doing that, Lucky.”

  “I can’t help it. I can hear them moving.”

  “A few of them are programmed to track my motion. You’ll have to get used to them.” He catches my stiff peak in between his fingers.

  I gasp. “I’ll…try.”

  “You’ll do more than try. I don’t want you tensing up when I fuck you.”

  He replaces his fingers with his tongue and flicks a straining nub several times. My breath ruffles out and ends in a tiny scream.

  Q continues to lick and squeeze my breasts as he trails his fingers down my shuddering midriff and stomach. “Open your legs. Unless I say otherwise, when you’re with me, I want to see your pussy at all times. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  He trails lower, then pauses to caress my bare pussy for a spell, before he slides his hands between my legs. I’m wet and hot.

  “Jesus. You’re exquisite.” One finger slides inside. My snug, greedy flesh closes around his digit. “And fucking tight.”

  He latches onto one breast as he slowly eases his finger back and forth. Within minutes, I’m back on the brink. He increases the tempo of the friction between my legs, his thumb mercilessly circling my clit.

  At the back of my mind, it registers that besides his mouth and his fingers, my body hasn’t connected with any part of his. I’m about to experience my second orgasm—subject to imminent permission sought and received—from a man whose face and body are still alien to me.

  The thought is demolished beneath the juggernaut of my lust. Even the sounds of the cameras recede as I gallop towards my blissful end. “Q, may I come?”

  “I want to make you wait. But I’m dying to fuck this amazing body of yours.”

  “Is that…permission?” I gasp as I try to hold on.

  “What do you think?”

  I shake my head. “Please. I don’t want to guess. Tell me.”

  “Fucking hell, every inch of you is addictive. Come, Lucky.”

  My mind stops functioning. Every instinct is arrowed between my legs as pure sensation takes over. It’s a full minute before I realize the keening sound in the room is from my throat. He continues to alternatively tease and lick my nipples until my convulsions quiet to tiny tremors.

  Then he drops a kiss between my breasts. “Beautiful.”

  A small frown forms because the compliment sounds almost regretful. As if a precious thing is already losing its shine.

  I give a small groan when his finger slides out of me. Then my frown gives way altogether when he moves and I feel the brush of his thigh against mine for the first time.

  You’re warm,” I blurt stupidly.

  A low laugh. “Did you imagine me otherwise?”

  “The…your voice,” I whisper.

  “You’ve felt my hands. My mouth. You’re about to feel a whole lot more of me. Enough to know I’m not a robot.”

  “Can I…will I see you?”

  “Not yet, firecracker. Tonight I just want you to feel me.”

  I wonder at the rationale behind that, but I deem it wise not to question it. He adjusts himself next to me, and I really feel him for the first time. As I imagined through all those meetings, his body is chiseled, hard from chest to thigh. In between, the thickness of his cock registers against my leg. Without sight, I can’t guess accurately at its size, but the length is enough to make me miss a breath.

  One hand caresses my bound hands. My lower arms. Elbows. Armpit. When his hand trails down my side, I jerk a little. I sense him pause, file the action away, before he continues. It’s dawning on me with astonishing alarm how quickly he can take me from sensible woman to quivering mess.

  His impatient hand parts my thighs, and I realize I squeezed them shut again after my second orgasm. I let my legs fall open.

  “Wider,” he growls.

  I comply.

  He makes a rough sound beneath his breath and leaves my side. In the next instant, he’s kneeling between my legs, each ankle in his intractable hold. I’m yanked wider open, my legs pushed back at the knees. I’m bound and wide open to him and there’s nowhere to hide. I swallow and go with it because I have no choice. When the camera tracking his move whirs, I struggle not to visibly cringe.

  I feel him staring at me. Between my legs. My breath grows increasingly choppy as he remains silent for an eternity.

  Eventually, his breathing gruff, he releases one ankle.

  The head of his cock brushes my soaked heat. Up and down a few times before he slaps his heavy girth against me. That’s the first inkling I get of Q’s size.

  The second is when he pushes his head inside me.

  My body tenses against the thick, hard invasion. He pauses for a handful of seconds. The hand trapping my ankle pushes my leg back further, opening me wider.

  He drives once more into me. Manages to insert himself just past the head. I wince and cry out. His chest heaves and the rattle of his exhales transmits electronically.

  “Motherfucker!”

  Behind the blindfold, my eyes water. My nasal passage tingles with an onslaught of shocked tears as he presses himself deeper inside me. “Ah!”

  “I need to be inside you, Lucky.”

  “You’re too big,” I gasp when he subtly withdraws and attempts again.

  “You’re too fucking tight,” he grits out. Fingers land on my clit and massage with pinpoint expertise that floods me instantly. But even the renewed wetness only affords him another couple of inches. “Jesus, relax for me, baby. That’s it. Relax.”

  The combination of his voice and the massage releases some of my tension. The burn is still beyond intense, but Q’s cock progresses along my channel. Deeper. Fuller.

  “Breathe, Lucky.” The instruction is terse, filled with a savage hunger that tells me one wrong move could see this thing spiral out of control.

  I take a much needed breath, and he pushes in to my hilt simultaneously. I’m filled to capacity, no more room at the inn.

  “Fuck!” He releases my ankle and his fingers leave my clit to trail up my body to my breasts. I feel him rock forward just before he palms them both and rolls the peaks between his fingers. “I fucking love your breasts.”

  My moan ends in a hoarse gasp when he starts to fuck me. Long strokes that end in little rams, my whole body jerks with each penetration.

  Moans turn into whimpers as another dimension of pleasure sidles alongside the burn. A mixture of pleasure and pain, it tramples through me, builds with every breath. I’m not sure what it does to my pussy, but Q groans as hi
s mouth closes over one nipple.

  “God, yes! Give it to me, baby. Give me every inch of that beautiful cunt.”

  I want to tell him he has it all. But my mind is fracturing, the feel of Q’s cock inside me so unbelievably glorious, I can’t form words. He fucks me fast and hard, drives me to the edge, then slows the tempo. My body doesn’t care that it has already climaxed twice. Hunger I’ve never felt before ramps up my spine.

  I’m twisting and turning. My hips surge up to meet his when he lets me. Which isn’t for very long.

  He releases my breasts after one long suck and hooks his arms under my knees. If I thought I was stretched wide before, this is a testament that I can be stretched more.

  Clearly, the few yoga sessions were doing their job. Strong arms plant on either side of my waist. The camera follows his move. He pulls out all the way to the tip, then rams hard inside me.

  “Q!”

  “Who owns this pussy?” he grunts.

  “You! You do.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” He pulls out, thrusts again. Then the true pounding starts.

  Q wasn’t kidding about what he intended to do to me. The desecration will never see me whole again. I feel it in my soul as he takes complete control of me.

  The intensity of his fucking registers on every inch of my body. My wrists throb where the rope secures me, but even that discomfort intensifies the pleasure. I’m near to combustion when he suddenly pulls out of me and flips me over.

  The breath is knocked out of me and my whole body is quivering on the brink. I want to scream and beg for him to fill me again. Before I can do either, he’s opening my legs and his mouth is on me again. He eats my hungry pussy, his tongue probing where his cock has possessed as he molds my ass in his big hands. For endless minutes, he feasts on my clit, his caresses growing rougher and the sounds from his throat progressively more feral.

  Sharp predatory instincts know when I’m about to come because he rears up again and, keeping me pinned to the bed, rams back inside me.

  “Agh!”

  “Motherfucker!”

  Powerful thighs planted on either side of my hips, he circles my waist in his hands. I’m completely immobile. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And he fucks the living shit out of me.