As I sat up at the bar, I glanced around the room, doing my best not to start laughing. "Would you like to buy me a drink?"
"Yeah!"
That night, we started talking. He told me all about his ambitions, how he wanted to use his money to make the world a better place. He already funded several grants and scholarships. But really, he wanted to do something better. He called it social entrepreneurship.
I listened, pretending I care to.
Really, why would people in other countries interest me? Even when I walked down the street, I felt little beyond disdain for the less fortunate.
But Eric got all excited. He kept using his hands, talking from one idea to the next. He bought me a couple of drinks, and at the end of the night, I gave him my phone number. Like any other sweet guy, he called me the next day. He wasn't interested in playing games. That's why he was going to lose—or so I thought.
You see, Eric interested me for one reason and one reason alone. His friends were hot, and they were rich. He could introduce me to real men, guys who knew exactly what they wanted. Could I have manipulated Eric into marriage?
Yeah. Easily.
Really, I could have just snapped my fingers and told him to give me a ring, and I had no doubt that he would have done it. He was grateful for every second of attention I gave him.
But little by little, I met some of his friends. I met some of their friends as well. We started going to real parties. Eric bought me beautiful dresses, exquisite jewelry, and he showed me what could happen if I managed to snag someone better.
Yes, I used him.
I knew exactly what I was doing, too.
Each night, I thought about new ways to make him feel good. I thought about what I could say, how I could control him. I figured out new little threats, not that he ever noticed. In fact, he didn't realize anything was wrong until I met Tony.
Unlike Eric, Tony was a hunter. While Eric inherited his wealth, Tony worked as a broker at some downtown firm. Really, I didn't care what he did. I was far more interested in his broad shoulders and muscled limbs. When he entered a room, I could just feel the difference. I knew that something had changed, something primal and visceral.
We started flirting. Eric didn't even notice. Why would he? He trusted me.
But on the very first night we met, we ended up in Eric's bed. Oh, it felt so good. A couple of jokes turned to wandering around Eric's apartment. He was throwing a party, after all. And while the music pounded, I took Tony by his hand, leading him into the bedroom.
Technically, I had some silly pretense. Maybe I wanted to show him a book or something. Like I read.
Once the door closed, Tony took what he wanted. He grabbed me, pulling me up against his tight chest. He kissed me, holding me. We kissed hard, pressing our mouths together. Our tongues flirted, teasing one another. At the same time, Tony didn't hesitate. He moved his hand along my hip, up my flank, right up to my breast. He could feel my hardened nipple through the light fabric of my dress.
"You really are a bitch, aren't you?" Tony asked, grinning at me.
My lips felt swollen, my cheeks were flushed, and I could already feel my excitement moisten my panties. Grinning, I looked right at him. "Honey, I'm going to save you."
He liked the challenge. He grabbed me, pulling me right over to Eric’s king sized bed. We fell down into those expensive sheets, and we grappled, wrestling like wild animals. But I loved it when Tony held me down, when he grabbed my wrists and forced my knuckles down at the sides of my head. He kissed me again, harder this time.
And when he broke away, I growled while he licked the contours of my neck. He bit down gently, just enough to make me moan with ecstasy. I didn't need to worry about anyone overhearing my ragged breathing or sharp gasps of arousal.
The next thing I knew, his hand slipped up my skirt. He hitched up my dress, working his fingers down into my panties. I glared at him, wondering if he would back off, if I could intimidate him with stare.
No. This was a real man. He was going to take what he wanted, and he wanted me.
He stroked me, working his fingertips over my pussy. "Such a dirty little slut,” he whispered in my ear. He worked his fingers deeper into my pussy, stroking my clitoris. He rubbed me, making me hotter and wetter.
"By the end of the night,” I replied with one broken breath after another, "I'm going to have you wrapped around my little finger." And I meant those words. A guy like Tony probably figured he could play with any girl without getting attached. I was about to show him just how wrong he could be.
"Try it," he laughed.
I was about to say something else, but he rubbed me harder and faster, right up to the point when an orgasm blossomed at my core, rippling pleasure all along my skin. I clenched my eyes closed.
Next, I rolled him onto his back. Yes, I understood perfectly well that he allowed this to happen. But as my fingers fumbled with his fly, he didn't mind. On the contrary, he wanted to see what I would do.
So many girls had to be convinced to go down on their boyfriends. Not me. I understood exactly what a blow job could mean. And sure, it was degrading, but I didn't mind because I knew that the right kind of pleasure could turn a guy into putty in my hands.
Sliding down the length of his body, I flashed him a feral, feline grin. I tugged down his pants, slipping his erection out of his boxers. He was big and hard. "You want me to suck you off?"
"You’d do that?" Yes, Tony had been utterly confident up until this point, but perhaps he assumed I was simply flirting or teasing him.
"You've been a good boy," I replied, thinking.
Obviously, he wanted me to service him, so I lowered my head, and I swiped my tongue up the length of his erection. It was one smooth motion, just enough to make the tip of his cock moisten with arousal.
When I looked at him again, Tony had his eyes closed. He didn't say a word. His lips shook slightly, and he was nearly overcome. Just like that, I lowered my head again, opening my mouth and hardening my lips around his shaft. I sucked him slowly, giving him time to enjoy this.
He didn't have to worry about me stopping after just a few seconds. He didn't need to worry about anything at all.
This was one more way I could use to control a man. Tony could be as arrogant and strong-willed as he liked. But as I worked him over, he melted in bed, and I was left to consider my boyfriend.
Obviously, I was going to have to break up with Eric. But how should I do it? With another man's shaft between my lips, I considered being kind. I thought about telling Eric that I loved him as a friend, but I didn't think we worked as a couple. Or maybe I should just tell him that I needed something different. Or maybe I could go to that old line about needing to work on myself.
Really, it didn't matter one way or another.
Tony reached down, he ran his fingers through my hair, and then he grabbed me. He pulled me forward, kissing me. I moaned with ecstasy as he rolled me onto my back. "I'm going to fuck you,” he promised, automatically assuming that I would allow this.
Of course, I would.
"Only if I'm on top," I growled back at him. But then, he took a hold of my hair, moving me along to bed. He had me down on my hands and knees, my ass aimed upward. He came up between my legs, sliding his cock into my pussy.
The heat, the friction, and the solidity of his body felt so good against mine. I started to moan, thinking about Eric and how different this was. Raw intensity flashed through my body, making me shut my eyes. I could feel Tony hammer away, thrusting deeper and deeper by the second. Oh yes, it felt good. It felt so delicious.
Pretty soon, I came for the second time.
He pulled on my hair again, making me gasp. He held one hand against my ass as he used his other to force my head up. "Take it," he growled. "Take it you dirty little slut.”
Every thrust of his shaft pushed me toward another orgasm. And strangely enough, I stared at the doorway, knowing full well that Eric was close by. What was it abou
t cheating on my boyfriend that made me so wet?
Maybe it was the fact that I already spent months pretending to be a good girlfriend, pretending to care about his social ownership. Really, I was only interested in my bank account, and my success, and in my connections. Why would I care about anyone else?
Just as Tony was about to climax, the door opened, and my boyfriend walked right into the room. He stopped, frozen.
Because Tony was a bastard, he didn't quit. He kept thrusting, pounding into me, deeper and deeper. Each pulse of friction and movement brought me closer.
"Jessica?” Eric asked, the sound barely audible over the music.
Other girls would have looked sheepish. Maybe they would have jumped away or started crying. Not me. I grinned at him, and then I winked. He stumbled back, absolutely confused. He slammed the door, just as Tony started to come. Oh yes, I enjoyed that pulsating feel as he came.
Panting, I dropped down onto my side. I pulled my panties back on, and I stepped over to the bathroom, getting cleaned up.
Outside, Eric was probably off telling his friends what he saw. I didn't really care. I glanced over at Tony. "You want a date now, don't you?"
"What makes you so sure?" Tony asked.
"I can see it in your eyes," I replied. I wrote down my phone number, and I handed it to him just as I stepped back out to the party. A couple of people glanced at me, knowing full well what happened. But me, I just chuckled, striding out of there.
Tony called me. Of course, he did. He wanted more of everything I have to offer. I was fun, I was challenging, I knew how to keep them guessing. Some people are good at math. Some people have a sense for language or computers. Me? I know men. I know how to keep them desperate for more.
It turned out that Tony was even richer than Eric. Before long, I had Tony buying me expensive presents. Rings, necklaces, and even a jeweled cell phone case appeared in my apartment.
It seemed like every day he was sending me something new along with some corny note. When I first met this man, he was completely independent. Then little by little, he started to rely on me for his happiness.
It was fun. It was intoxicating.
So when I came home one day to find another package by my door, I wasn’t surprised. Unlike the other gifts, this one didn’t have a return address. I shrugged, unconcerned as I picked it up and sauntered into my place.
As I dropped my keys by the side of the door, I tested the weight of the small box in my possession. It felt solid, like there was something relatively heavy inside.
Unable to contain my excitement, I scampered over to the kitchen. I used a knife, cutting through the top of the box. And when I peered inside the cardboard container, I raised an eyebrow, very surprised.
"What the heck?" I asked no one in particular. Instead, I lifted the gift. It looked like a dark red, leather band and a bell. What was this?
The bell was rectangular, and I didn't know what to do with this.
Was this some kind of joke? With Tony messing with me? If so, he was going to be in trouble. Yes, I could be a generous and gifted lover when I wanted to, but if he pissed me off, I would show him what it meant to be desperate.
Feeling petulant, I started considering his friends. Like him, they were all wealthy. Maybe it was time for me to find a new boyfriend?
Shaking those thoughts out of my head as premature, I reached into the box and I found a small note. It was written on a torn piece of binder paper.
Go ahead. Ring this bell. Show me that you are just a stupid cow. And then, I saw Eric’s signature.
Shaking my head again, I wondered if I should give him a call. Maybe I should send him a text message or an e-mail. After a few seconds of consideration, I threw my head back and I laughed. Seriously? This was going to be his revenge?
When I cheated on him and dumped him via a text, I figured he was going to want some kind of retribution. But honestly, I had assumed that my ex-boyfriend would be more creative. Wasn't he supposed to leave some rotten eggs in front of my door or something?
Granted, this bell obviously wasn't worth anything, but that didn't matter.
Instead, I lifted up, and as the light played along the simple metal, I noticed several little engravings. They seemed to flash along my eyes, only to disappear in instant later. Really, it had to be a trick of the light. This couldn't be anything special.
Smirking again, I decided I wasn't going to let my ex-boyfriend intimidate me. I gave the bell a little shake. It rang, sounding a little bit like something I might expect to hear in a barnyard.
"This is a cowbell," I whispered, surprised. Then I smirked again, thoroughly unimpressed with his insult. Considering how many books a guy like Eric read, I would have assumed more of him. He was supposed to be smarter than this.
"Oh well," I said, tossing it down on the counter. I would throw it away later. For now, I had to get ready for another date with my boyfriend.
We were out at a restaurant. It was expensive, of course. I would never eat somewhere cheap. On every date, Tony had to demonstrate just how much he cared about me. That meant spending money.
As our server brought us another plate of overpriced sushi, I looked around. Tony was smiling at me, his eyes never wavering. When we first got together, he would have called himself a player. By this point in our relationship, he learned not to look at other women. He would never risk insulting me. He would never risk making me look bad in front of other people.
Tony was talking, telling me about some of his friends or maybe it was some sort of funny story. Either way, I just nodded along, unable to really register any of his words. Instead, I kept shifting in my seat, recognizing two different sensations. On the one hand, I felt horny. Really horny. With every breath, I kept glancing over at my boyfriend, wondering if I should just grab him and take him to the bathroom. But no, I didn't want to be dirty like that.
My other sensations came from my nipples. For our date, I had on a pair of little white shorts and a hot pink tank top. My nipples stiffened with my arousal, and every time I shifted, it felt as though I could feel the material rub along those buds, making me hotter and hotter.
"Are you hungry?"
"What?"
"Are you hungry?" I asked again. I ran my tongue along my lower lip. At the same time, I reached under the table, putting my hand just above his knee. I squeezed, giving him an ample view of my bosom.
He gulped audibly, clearly nervous. Then he gave a quick shake of his head. "Do you want to get out of here?" I asked.
A few seconds later, we were out the door. A couple of bills sat on our table. We got into his car, and I could no longer wait. I glanced around, thankful that Tony loved his convertible. He parked off in the corner, where no one would see us.
I climbed on top of him, and I started kissing him hungrily. I bit down into his lower lip. I licked at his neck. I rubbed my breasts up against his body. What was going on with my nipples? Why were they so incredibly sensitive?
He grabbed onto my breasts, squeezing them. I moaned, completely unaware of what was happening, of what my body was doing.
Instead, I rested my weight on his thigh. It wasn't dignified, but I started grinding, moving my hips forward and back. It felt so good. I was getting so wet. I had already soaked my panties. Desperation kept me going, on and on until I climaxed.
Someone might walk by. Someone might glance over in our direction to see the car shaking. I didn't care in the slightest. I peeled off my top.
Right away, Tony understood what I craved.
He wrapped his arms around my torso, pulling me down. He brought his lips up to my breast, and he clamped down on my nipple. Right away, I hissed, gasping with delight. Arching my back, I looked up at the ceiling.
Yes, that was incredible. Yes, that was what I needed.
Only then, something else started to happen, something strange. At first, I barely registered the sensation. It was movement, this little hint of pressure in my breasts.
Tony nudged me forward, and I glanced down in time to see one little droplet of warm milk cling to the tip of my nipple.
"What the hell?" I asked, shocked. That should not have been possible. There was no way this was happening.
Tony didn't seem worried. "Babe, you’re lactating!”
"No. This can't be happening," I told him.
Only he still had his arms wrapped around my torso. He yanked me forward, going after my other nipple. This time, he squeezed with his mouth, sucking hard. I gasped again, hissing from one breath into the next as he suckled. And yes, the milk had started to flow. It squirted from my breast into his mouth.
Warm and grainy, it pleased my boyfriend. He was so big, so hard.
I was lactating like some kind of cow…
…Wait…this wasn't supposed to be possible, only my rich, ex-boyfriend sent me a bell. Was it possible that the “gift” had been laced with some kind of chemical, maybe something to make me lactate?
Despite the arousal pressing through me, I shoved myself off of my boyfriend. I stumbled out of the car, careful to grab my tank top.
"Where you going?"
"I have to get out of here!"
Tony watched me with big, hungry eyes. He watched me like a predator, unable to decide whether or not he would permit me to get away. I held up one finger. "Stay right there! Don't you dare follow me!" Because I knew how to train my boyfriend, Tony didn't move. He gripped the side of his convertible, his knuckles turning white.
I stumbled over to the street, already holding out my hand so that a taxi would come and pick me up.
As I sat in the back of the taxi, I kept squirming. For one, I needed a good dicking.
That rarely happened to me. Sure, I knew that some of my friends could get incredibly horny, but sex wasn't just about the penis for me. Now, I love feeling a man’s tongue down against my slit. I loved knowing that I could control him. For me, sex was actually pretty intellectual and emotional.
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