by B. B. Hamel
When he’s done, I’m sitting on the ground in just a blue thong, dripping wet and useless at this point, my hands tied above my head. He carefully folds my pants and places them on the bed before walking into the closet.
He returns a second later with what I assume is a vibrator. It’s long, thick, and white. He walks over to me and puts me back on my knees before placing the vibrator between my legs and switching it on.
Nothing happens. It doesn’t move. I stare at him, legs clenched, waiting for the sensation to tear through me, but nothing happens.
“Now, we’ll play a game,” he says. He holds up a little switch in his hand. “This controls the vibrator. I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer it the right way, I’ll give you pleasure. Like this.” He turns it on.
I groan softly as the vibrator buzzes between my legs. I can’t help but smile slightly and press against my bonds. He leaves it on for a few seconds then stops.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Aria,” I say.
The vibrator turns on, low and slow. I bite my lip.
“What are you?”
I cock my head at him. “An escort.”
He turns the vibrator off.
“Wrong. I’ll ask again. What are you?”
I pause, watching him. “Your pet,” I whisper.
“Good girl.” He turns the vibrator back on, this time on a higher setting.
I can’t help but let out a little moan. The vibrator is right against my clit and it’s moving at a soft and perfect buzz, sending pleasure up my spine. I can’t move or get away from it, and that just makes it so much more intense.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I moan.
He turns the vibrator down. Not off, but down. “What do you want from me?” he asks again.
“Your cock,” I groan suddenly, surprising myself.
He smiles and turns the vibrator up. I moan, tossing my head back.
“Good girl. Now, do you want to leave your room?”
“No,” I moan. “No, please. I don’t want to leave.”
“Good.” He turns it up again and I gasp as pleasure floods through me. He stands there watching me for a few seconds and it’s almost too intense.
“You want to make me happy?” he asks.
“Yes,” I moan. “Badly.”
He turns the vibrator down. I moan, watching him, not sure what I did wrong.
“If you could leave right now with the money, would you walk away?”
I watch him, trying to think, not sure what to say. I feel like there’s an obvious answer.
But I want to be honest. Would I leave right now if I’d get paid? I’m supposed to be here for the money and nothing else. That sort of cash would change my life and put me on a path to a better existence. I could be happy and free with that money.
No, I realize. I wouldn’t leave. I don’t want to go anywhere. Maybe the cash would change my life but I’d rather stay and learn more about Ethan. I’m fascinated by him. Actually, I’m attracted to him in ways that I couldn’t imagine.
It’s this, his little games. They feel so good and push me so far. I’ve never felt like this before.
“No,” I say honestly. “I wouldn’t.”
He watches me for a second then smiles and turns up the vibrator again. Pleasure rips through my core. “Good girl,” he whispers, then steps closer to me.
I look up at him, moans escaping my lips, pleasure rocking through my body. I can barely think and I don’t know what I’ll say to him if he asks me any more questions. There’s only one thing that I want, and it’s him, his body, his touch. I crave it so badly, and yet he’s holding it back. I know he’s doing it on purpose but I want to scream for it, I want to beg for it. I can feel the words on my lips, the begging that might get me what I want.
He crouches down in front of me and puts his hand on the side of my face. I move over and take his thumb between my lips, sucking on it, biting it softly. I look him in his eyes and I can see the desire there, almost as strong as mine.
“Do you want to come?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I moan, tossing my head back. “Please, I want it so badly.”
“You want to get off, my little pet?”
“Please, Ethan,” I moan. “Get me off.”
He turns the vibrator down. I gasp, shocked. “Ethan!” I moan, practically whining.
He stands. “I think you’ve been punished enough.”
“What?” I moan. He turns off the vibrator and takes it away. “Ethan!”
He unties my hands. They drop down to my sides and I stare at him, so frustrated, even a little angry. How could he stop right there? How could this be over? I was so close, right on the edge, and he’s walking away?
I’m actually pissed off. I like his games but not if it means I’m going to be pushed but not given the release that I need.
“When I leave the room,” he says, looking at me, “I want you to finish yourself off. Do you understand?”
I pause then stare at him and slowly nod. “I understand.”
“Good girl. But you can’t use this.” He holds up the vibrator. “I want you to fuck your little pussy with those fingers and come as hard as you can.”
“Yes, Ethan,” I say, excitement ringing through me again.
“Good girl. I’ll be listening right on the other side of that door.” He touches my face again and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. I don’t waste a single second. I spread my legs wide, shove my hand down my panties, and press my fingers deep inside of my pussy. I lean forward, braced on one hand on the floor, knees spread wide, as I fuck myself, moaning his name.
11
Ethan
As soon as the door clicks shut, I press my back against it and let out a deep groan.
The hallway is clear as I listen to what’s going on back inside that room. I can hear her moaning, her voice getting loud and deep, and suddenly I hear her say my name.
I hear her say my name.
It drives me fucking wild. That whole experience was a test in patience and self-control for me. All I wanted to do was slide my cock down her pretty throat and fuck her until I came, but I knew it was too soon. I need to keep pushing the boundaries, keep building the suspense. I need to control everything about this.
But fuck, I don’t want to be in control. I unzip my fly and take out my cock, unable to stop myself. I’m hard as hell, practically ringing with need. I begin to stroke myself, listening to her fuck herself with her fingers.
Goddamn, I want to go back in there. I want to go in and watch her do exactly what I told her to do. I can hear her voice getting louder, her breathing getting deeper, and I know she’s making herself come. I stroke myself faster, desire and pleasure exploding through my body.
I don’t know how I kept my hands off her back there. I started out intending just to tease her a bit, but it was just too fucking hot. I had to stop and get out of there before I lost control and did something more than just tease.
Everything about Aria makes my blood run hot. She sends fire through my veins. She’s fascinating, sexy, smart, and clever all at once, and it pushes me to my limits. I thought this might be a fun game, seducing some attractive escort, but the game is getting far more intense than I ever could have guessed.
I want her down on all fours, legs stretched wide as my cock slides into her tight little cunt. I want to feel that tight, hot, wet pussy of hers wrapped around my dick as I pump myself deep inside of her. I want to tear her apart as I fuck her like an animal, listening to her moans, feeling her skin.
I want to sweat with her. I want to make her come. I want to taste it.
As her moans get loud and reach their peak, I keep pumping my cock until I come right there in the hallway. I groan, pushing my head back against the door and listening for a moment.
She goes quiet on her end, and I know she’s finished, too. Although we didn’t actually touch each other, that was one of the most erotic and intense sexual experiences of my life. I didn’t think it would go this far, and yet here I am, unable to fucking stop myself from getting off while listening to her moans.
I stand there in the hallway, breathing deep as the orgasm slowly wears off. I let out a sigh and slide myself back into my pants before lingering there for a moment longer, trying to picture what she looks like on the other side of that door.
I can see her, flush with exertion, fingers slick from her own juices. Maybe she licks them clean, maybe she simply wipes them off on her already dripping wet and useless panties.
Her nipples are hard under her thin t-shirt and she’s panting, breathing heavily, and thinking about me. She probably wants to know what it feels like for me to fuck her, maybe wants to know as much as I do.
Slowly, the fantasy passes. I get myself together and head down the hall into my own bedroom. I undress quickly and get into the shower, cleaning myself off and trying to clear my head.
It’s too soon to be feeling this way. The idea of being unable to control myself around her is a little frightening. It makes me feel uneasy, to be completely honest with myself. I want to be able to have strict control at all times, but out there in the hallway, I lost the ability to hold back.
All because of her. Aria pushes me just as much as I push her, though she doesn’t realize it. I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck her until she genuinely wants it, and I still feel that way. It’s why I’m only teasing her so far. But I didn’t expect to want to take her body more than I wanted to hold back and play my game.
As the water runs down my body, I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking the same thing, but the other way around. I know she’s starting to want it, really and truly want it, and I can’t help but wonder if she is surprised by that. Maybe she didn’t expect to actually want me to take her. She could still be trying to see this as just another game to play.
I don’t know what to think. And it’s not a good feeling. For most of my life, I’ve been in strict control of my situations as best I possibly can. Now, suddenly, with Aria, I feel like I’m losing a bit of that measured control and I don’t like it.
I wash myself under the warm water, thinking of her body in the other room, and wondering how I even got here to begin with.
12
Aria
I barely see him for nearly a week.
After that night with the vibrator, he doesn’t come for two days. I’m bored out of my mind, but I do my best to pass the time. I get permission on the second day from him through Jenkins to go on a short walk every day, but only so long as I’m chaperoned. Jenkins makes one of the housecleaners, a girl named Camilla that barely speaks any English, go with me. That suits me just fine, though, since I don’t want to talk anyway.
On my walk, I go around the block. I have twenty minutes to spend, and I use every minute looking around at the city and stretching my legs. Camilla walks next to me and smiles when we look at each other, but otherwise we’re silent with each other.
It’s actually pretty nice, but I wish it were Ethan with me instead of Camilla. I don’t know why he doesn’t come to see me. After the third day, he comes for dinner, but he doesn’t stay long, and we don’t play any games. We talk about his work and I tell him about my walks, and he agrees to let me have a half hour instead of twenty minutes. Two days after that, he comes for dinner again, and again the next night.
But we don’t play any games, and our conversation is simple, almost boring. He seems more reserved and I don’t understand why. He also seems even more tired, if that’s possible. He’s apologetic, and tries to make it up to me by sending gifts, but I don’t need gifts.
Although I can’t really complain about getting things. He sends beautiful dresses, jewelry, a new laptop, a new cellphone, scarves, gloves, a new coat, and a hundred other little things. It’s all perfect and expensive, and frankly more than I’ve ever gotten on my own, but I’d give it all up if he’d just come to see me more often.
Which is a strange thought. After seven days of this, with only seeing him three times in that week, I find myself getting antsy. I keep having negative thoughts, angry thoughts, and I don’t understand it.
Why do I care if he doesn’t come? That just means my life should be easier. I don’t have to worry about pleasing him if he never comes. But I am worried that I’m not good enough, that I’m not living up to his expectations in some way. He doesn’t say that, of course, but I don’t think he would. He’s a good man.
But I crave his attention. I feel silly about it, but it’s the truth. I crave his attention like a lovesick teenager or something, which only makes me feel much crazier. Maybe I’m sick. I’m not supposed to want the man that bought me at an escort auction. I’m supposed to just make him happy and collect my check when it’s all over.
Instead, I’m angry that he’s not giving me the attention I deserve. I feel like a spoiled brat, but I don’t care about all these gifts. I don’t need any of them.
I felt something during that night with the vibrator. I could see it in his eyes as he turned it up and down, teasing me, pushing me. I know he wants me, more than just sex, more than just as a pet to be used however he wants. I saw something more than that, much deeper, like he couldn’t control it.
When I got myself off, I could have sworn I heard him grunting on the other side of the bedroom door. That’s probably crazy, but I can still picture the sounds, and part of me believes he was getting himself off at the same time I was.
There’s something lingering between us and I need to know what it is.
I stand up and look at all the things he bought me. I know he’s going to come home from work soon, or at least when he does come home, he comes home about this time. So I go over to the balcony and open up the door.
Next, I grab one of the dresses he bought me, and I walk outside. I take it out of the box, take one last look, and then I throw it into the street.
I laugh as it hits the ground and I cover my mouth.
“I can’t believe I did that,” I say out loud to myself.
And it’s true, I can’t believe it. This is so freaking crazy. I could get his attention some other way, something that’s not so public, but I find myself walking back into the bedroom, getting another dress, and throwing it out into the street. This one lands in a nearby tree, which only makes me laugh.
I grab another dress and I throw it, along with a box of chocolates, some flowers, and a scarf. It lands in the street and on the sidewalk, and someone looks up at me. Someone else yells, but I don’t care.
I throw down more clothes, pillows, blankets, and I can’t stop myself from laughing the whole time. By the time I’m finished, the street looks like someone dumped their girlfriend by throwing her clothes out the window. People are already starting to push the stuff off to the side, and one or two things get grabbed by people that recognize their worth.
There’s probably a few thousand dollars’ worth of stuff down there on the ground, and all I can do is laugh about it. I feel so totally crazy, but I also feel free. I don’t feel any inhibitions at all.
This is what he needs, a little wildness in his life. He needs a little levity and excitement. Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet, but I’m going to give it to him. And this is the first step. This will get his attention.
If he doesn’t come see me soon, I don’t know what will work.
13
Ethan
It’s around midnight when I get a call on my cellphone from Jenkins.
“Sir, it’s the girl.”
I pause. “She has a name.”
“Aria.” He says it like he’s drinking poison. “She threw her clothes out the window.”
“What?” I say, taken aback.
“Sir, she took some of the gifts you’ve given her and she threw them out her window. I’ve sent Camilla to clean
them up, but I fear she’s made a scene.”
I can’t help but grin. “Made a scene?”
“Yes, sir. The neighbors are talking.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors.”
“I thought you should know.”
“Thank you, Jenkins. I’ll take care of it.”
“Of course.”
I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair, smiling but perplexed.
Why the hell would she throw her things out the window? I’m sure it drove Jenkins absolutely insane to see that, but he couldn’t do anything about it but tattle on her to me. He’s under orders to indulge her every whim, and apparently her whims involve throwing her clothes out a window.
Aria doesn’t seem like a crazy and irrational person. I know she’s bored being all pent-up in that room, and I haven’t been very attentive lately.
I sit, crossing my legs. I’m done for the night, and I know I should go see her.
But I’ve been avoiding her. Ever since that night that I got myself off in the hallway, unable to stop myself, I’ve been afraid to see her. I don’t know if I can keep myself under control around her. When I have gone to her, I’ve kept it distant, although I really just want to throw the table over and fuck her against the railing over the balcony.
I can’t put it off anymore. And I can’t let this little tantrum go unpunished. I call the car and stand, smiling to myself.
This is what she wants. There’s no doubt in my mind that she did this just to get me to react. She can tell that I’m being distant and she probably doesn’t know what else to do. I’m betting she figures if she does something like this then I’ll have to punish her.
And her punishments are so much fun for both of us.
My heart is beating fast on the ride home. I know I’m going to punish her, and it only makes me more excited to realize that she probably wants it. She wants me to spank her, tie her up, fuck her however I want. Which means I’ll have to think of a punishment that she won’t see coming.