Earning Her Keep (closed)

She felt him close to her body, close enough to...do things. To violate and invade her. To ruin her with his vile touch. To raise the spare hairs of her arms. To send a feeling like cold water down her back. But he...refused to do any more. To really touch her. Aside from the purely mechanical, purely practical motion, of lowering her panties to the floor.

Kate stepped out of them fully, let her lower body free of the two garments at once, so that she was simply - bare - below the waist. The bottom of her blouse revealed her pale midriff, toned and flat.

The lights went out. The tiger moved suddenly, somehow between the half-second of darkness and the light's return, and it was suddenly on her, hot breath rolling over Kate's neck, teeth practically clamping into her delicate skin. Its huge, warm body pressed against her naked flesh. It was snarling, lightly, a thunder soaking into her flesh.

She began again. She sat back onto the desk, as much for rest as anything, and her legs splayed out slightly over time, so that her pussy was increasingly revealed to his sight. A slight patch of moisture was beginning to reveal itself on the desk between her thighs, residue of her reluctant self-pleasure, honey of her loins. Kate's fingers moved again, stirring as if from sleep, beginning to brush at her pubic hair in small circles, before pressing once more against her labia, then into herself more fully. Exploring, as expecting a sudden pain. Exploring, as though she had not just been two fingers inside herself and pumping, as though this was not a repeat performance for her landlord's pleasure.

The tiger drew back again, its movement again concealed in a flash of darkness. It was watching her again, eyes dark and flat. And making a noise like purring. Its mouth opened in something like a roar, though silent, and in a kind of surreal slow-motion. A long, leisurely, pleasured roar.

And then Kate let her eyes open, and she watched Trask. The expression was hooded in anger, in dislike and hate, but with a kind of pleasure clawing its way out of her facial arrangement one bit at a time. Every time her fingers stroked her own clitoris, her composure flickered. When she began sliding into herself again, in that crude imitation of fucking, her mouth began to open slightly, and never quite closed again for the rest of the act, a kind of subvocal moan caught in her throat, then her mouth, then spilling out faintly into the room.

Her fingers were shining with herself. "You are such a pervert." The moisture on the desk was a small pool. "A disgusting little worm." Her fingers worked faster. "Is this how you get off?" A little faster. "You blackmail people, that's the only way you can get laid?" Her voice was a hoarse, harsh whisper, the lick of a knife over exposed skin. "All I see, when I look at you is..." The word never quite made it out, whatever she saw in him. With a kind of wince, she moaned - down, towards her own masturbating hand, as if she refused to broadcast it in the direction of this 'worm'. Her legs twitched, and one foot kicked almost angrily at the desk. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck." Her nipples were sharply outlined against the blouse. A small dark mark had appeared at the small of her back, a little reminder of her sweat-inducing exertions.
 
Watching Kate proved fascinating. Amongst my previous relationships with women, I'd never encountered one willing to pleasure herself in front of me. They all regarded the act as too personal - too intimate - to perform for another.

I understood now. Though I wasn't even within arm's reach of her, the emotions radiating from her were so intense that I would swear I could feel every beat of her heart. I was privy to an aspect of her that few - if any - had ever known. Though I'd forced her into this, I found myself awed and grateful for this glimpse into her life.

Kate's eyes shot open, their fierce gaze like a slap to my face. Clearly she felt nothing but contempt for my intrusion into her privacy. Words spilled out of her - invectives fueled by rage. Rage, and perhaps a trace of passion. Yet despite her intent to wound me, I found her intensity intoxicating.

Her outburst was sharply interrupted as she tucked her chin in and returned her focus inward. A litany of profanity escaped her reddened lips as she fought some private struggle. I caught the briefest glimpses of her warring emotions. Her fury at me. Her rising arousal. Her desire to prolong these sensations. Her craving for release. Her desire to shield herself from my prying eyes.

Her second orgasm was considerably more pronounced than the first. A surge of fluid slipped past her fingers and spilled out onto her upper thighs, splattering onto the desk and floor. Her body shuddered visibly and her hips rocked with sufficient force to rattle the desk drawers. Her shoulders thrust back and her back bowed, throwing her magnificent chest forward. The resulting strain on her blouse caused it to gap between the buttons, showing glimpses of the lacy bra beneath.

But when her head snapped backward and her luscious lips parted, the sound that emerged was strained and muted. Had I not been able to see otherwise, I would swear she was attempting to squeal in delight while someone had two hands wrapped around her throat. Even now, she was still holding back, fighting not to let me see the fullness of her pleasure.

I don't think she heard the click and whir of the Polaroid in the midst of her orgasm. By the time her gasping ceased and her teary eyes opened once again, I was waving the nearly-developed image in my hand.

I held it out for her to see, but not touch. The visual seemed an almost textbook example of a woman in the throes of intense pleasure. The reality had been far more ambiguous as to Kate's delight, but the photo lacked her strangled cries to provide that context.

I flipped the photo back to me. "My, my. You at the height of passion. It's beautiful beyond words, Miss Carlisle." I sighed softly at the image, then snapped my fingers and jumped to my feet. With my movements providing misdirection, the photo disappeared into one of my pockets.

"I like this new one, so I'll hold onto it. However, I'll let you keep the first one." I produced the creased photo of Kate covered in my jism and stepped towards her.

Or rather, I hobbled. I had not been entirely passive in my observation. My own arousal was painfully evident in the gargantuan bulge distending my pants. The steel bar my cock had become forced me into a slightly undignified shuffle as I moved within a few inches of her.

I glanced down and had to repress a shudder of my own. Her thighs splayed open at the edge of the desk, her naked, glistening vagina exposed just scant inches from my own throbbing bulge.

It would be so easy. One hand at her throat, forcing her down onto the desk as I climbed atop her. She might flail, but her thighs were already open and I would have muscle mass and gravity on my side. With one hand to remove my pants and free my tortured cock, I'd be able to plunge into her. Oh, she'd scream, but no one would hear her. I wouldn't need long. Just five minutes. Five minutes of rutting in her tight, wet pussy. Yes, that'd be delightful. That'd be just what I needed. Yes, it'd be so easy. So easy. So very easy.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, blowing the cleansing breath out my lips. The tension in my chest loosened. The momentary lapse in my civility had passed. My control remained intact.

I set the old photo down next to her naked thigh. "I am a man of my word, Miss Carlisle. I asked for two climaxes and you have given me two. Thank you. I will ask nothing more of you today. You may dress and depart." I took two steps back out of her personal space. "Till next time."
 
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