“Wake up, little slut.”
My eyeselids fluttered, morning sunlight coming from a window at the side of the bed. I moved and sucked in my breath, my body protesting. “Don’t go too fast, now,” he said, kissing the side of my head. I blinked and looked up into his eyes.
“Thomas? Sir?”
He smiled. “I think Thomas will work for now. Did you sleep well?”
“I… I think so. I don’t remember much after…”
“That’s a sign of a well-used body, my dear. Are you hungry?”
At the word, my stomach rumbled. He laughed and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, sliding off of the bed. He walked across the room, his naked body practically shining in the sun. “Do you feel like going out? Or should I make something for you?”
“Um… I’m not sure.”
“I’ll go make some coffee. See if you can get dressed. Otherwise, I’ll start some pancakes.”
“All right.”
He left and I stretched, slowly as he had warned me. I sat up, letting the blanket fall off of my chest. I looked around the room, my eyes landing on the washcloth and water bottle. My pussy seemed to clnch on itself, despite the sharp pain that movement brought. What on earth had possessed me to do those things last night? To let him do those things to me?
I reached down to pick up my clothes, picking up the carefully folded items and feeling my nipples burn in response, almost as if it was the memory alone making my body react. I put them next to me and carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, my head swimming just a bit.
“You don’t have to leave right now, you know.”
I turned and saw Thomas in the doorway, holding two cups of hot coffee. “What?”
He smiled and walked into the room, still naked. I did my best to look at his eyes and not his semi-erect cock. He handed me a cup and sat next to me, rubbing my back. “It’s hot,” he said, “but it’s the way you like it. Cream and three sugars, right?”
I blinked at him. “How did you know that?”
“I pay attention. We work in the same office. We share a communal coffee pot.”
I blew over the surface of the coffee, the rich scent filling my nose. “I have to warn you, though, that I use real coffee, not those prepared filter nonsense they use there.”
I smiled and took a sip. It was very hot. And very, very good. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
We sat there in silence for a bit, sipping coffee, while he continued to rub my back, lightly gripping the back of my neck when he got back to the top. Every time he did, I had to hold in a moan. And each time that happened, he smiled.
“So what are we going to do about this, now, miss Jane?”
“What?”
“You clearly reacted to me last night.”
“Well, yes…”
“And I certainly enjoyed it.”
“So did I.”
“So then…”
“So, what?”
He smiled again and held the back of my neck, lightly but firmly. “So when can we do it again?”
“Um…”
“As much as I would love to enjoy your body again right now, I want you to get a rest from it. To take some time to let things heal up.”
“Heal up?”
“Look at your nipples, Jane.”
I did and saw there were thin lines of dried blood from his nails. Instead of repulsing and horrifying me as it should have, it actually made me wet all over again.
What the hell was going on?
“I think that Friday night we should get together again. What do you say?”
“I… Yes. I would… I would like that.”
He smiled again and kissed my cheek. “Get dressed. Let’s go get some breakfast before you go home.”
“All right.”
He gave my neck a final light squeeze and took the cup. He put them on top of his dresser and pulled open the drawers, taking out a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved polo shirt, boxes, and socks. He raised an eyebrow at me and looked at my clothes. I pulled them on, barely paying attention. The panties and bra feel rough against my sore skin, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Come on, then,” he said. “Help me get dressed.”
Once again, my body reacted instantly. I was up and next to him in almost no time. He handed me the clothes and stood there, waiting. I set them on the dresser in a pile then picked up the shirt. He nodded and held out his arms. I slide it over them, inching them over his muscled biceps then reaching up to hook his head, resisting the urge to taste his skin as I went.
“Very nice,” he said, beending down slightly to let me pull it down his stomach and back. This left me eyelevel with his cock and I moved away slowly. I picked up the boxes and went to bend down, but he stopped me, lightly grabbing my hair. “I think that would work better if you were on your knees, don’t you?”
“Yes… Thomas.”
He smiled and pushed me down, letting me get my balance on my knees, looking up at him. He handed me the jeans and socks as well and I put them on the floor next to me. “Would it makes you feel better to call me ‘sir,’ Jane?”
“It… might.”
“Such a good little slut,” he said, running his thumb over my forehead while he tightened his grip slightly on my hair. “You may call me ‘sir’ if you like.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Well, then, get me dressed so I can get you some food. You used up a lot of calories last night, Jane.”
“Yes, sir.”
I held up the boxes and he stepped into them, one foot at a time. I pulled them up to his knees then picked up his socks. He allowed me to put them on his feet and tug them up his calves. I reached for his jeans and he tightened his grip on my hair.
“I think you should pull the boxes up first, don’t you, Jane?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good little slut.”
I raised up higher on my knees and slid them up his thighs, watching as the curly hairs slid under them. I stopped just short of his waist and looked up at him. “Sir?”
“Yes, little slut?”
“May I please taste you?”
He smiled and nodded. “Such a needy girl. Yes, Jane, youmay taste me. But I’m not going to fuck your throat this time.”
“Yes, sir.”
My heart sped up and I let go of his boxes. His cock was hard now, pointing out of his pelvis like an exclamation mark. I touched it carefully, tugging it up and down with one hand and holding his thigh with the other. I licked and sucked on his balls, loving how salty they were. He watched as I toyed with him, his hand still firmly in my hair and the other at his side.
I guided his cock to my mouth and licked it as well. He sucked in his breath as I took it into my mouth, loving the taste of his precum. I started sucking him for real, letting the tip barely touch the back of my throat, not blocking any of my air. I wrapped my hands around the backs of his thighs as I found a good rhythm.
“All right, little slut, that’s enough,” he said, tugging my head back. I looked up at him, more than a little confused.
“But sir… Don’t you… I mean, don’t you like it?”
He smiled again and fisted my hair for real, yanking my head back to a painful degree. “I do, yes, Jane. But I told you, I’m not going to fuck your throat right now.”
“But can’t I still just… Give you a blowjob, sir?”
“I think we should try something else. Do you trust me?”
There it was again. My pussy clenched and I tried to nod. “Yes, sir, I do.”
He grabbed his cock and started tugging it, going faster and harder than I had. I watched his hand as it moved up and around the head before going back to the base, in awe. I had never seen someone treat it so roughly, but he seemed to be enjoying it. He stared into my eyes as he did it.
“Touch your pussy, Jane. Gently. But, make it hurt a little.”
“Yes, sir.”
I did as he said, reaching under my skirt and panties. My clip was swollen and the skin felt raw to the touch. I gasped a bit when I rubbed against it and he held my hair tighter. “Gently, Jane. But tell me, how wet are you?”
I slide a finger carefullyy into the opening of my lips. It was indeed very sore, but it was also soaked. “Very wet, sir.”
He smiled. “Excellent, little slut. Keep touching it. Make it hurt, but just a little.”
“Yes, sir.”
I did, gasping when my fingers hit an especially sensitive part. He kept struggling his cock, pulling it harder and faster. He stared down at me, narrowing his eyes each time I gasped or twitched from the pain. “Good girl, Jane. Such a good girl.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Does it hurt when you do that, Jane? Does it hurt when you finger your clip?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put two fingers inside, Jane. Slide them in all the way, but don’t take them back out.”
“Yes, sir.”
I did what he said. I groaned and winced and he pulled my head back further. “Touch your clip with your other hand, Jane. Rub it back and forth between two fingers. Don’t pinch, just rub.”
“Yes… Yes sir…”
I did and I felt tears spring to my eyes again. The sensings were extreme and even with the light pressure, it hurt. He smiled at me again. “Does that hurt, Jane?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl, Jane.”
I tried to look away and he gave my head a small shake. “Don’t. If you cry, you cry. It’s all right. You’re so beautiful when you cry, little slut.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you want to cum, Jane?”
I hadn’t even considered it. Until he mentioned it. My pussy clenched again and my clip throbbed, making me let out a low moan. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Ask me, little slut. Always ask me.”
Tears fell faster now, my nose starting to get full. “Sir, may I please cum?”
“Not yet.”
He pulled his cock harder and his mouth opened, his breath faster. I rubbed my clip as he said, each touch making me cry a little more. And yet, those same touches were making me reach a climax faster than I would have ever thought possible.
“Sir, please, may I cum? Please, sir.”
“Not yet.”
He tugged and tugged, my neck pulled back into a painfully unnatural position, watching me cry as I played with my pussy. His eyes began to glaze over and he began to pant. I opened my mouth to ask but he held up his other hand in a hushing gesture.
“Cum, little slut. Cum for me.”
And I did. My body shook and I cried out, my pussy flooding my hands. He yanked my head even further to the side and began his own climax. He came hard, ropes of his seed shooting from his cock and landing on my face and chest. He kept tugging, getting out all of it, more than I would have imagined. Some even landed in my hair.
“Stop, little slut,” he said, his voice breathy. “Let go of that beautiful pussy, now.”
I pulled my hand out and looked around for something to wipe it on. “Lick it off, Jane. Lick off your juices.”
I’d never done that before. I’d tasted them occasionally during sex, on my partners’ hands or cock, but not off of my own hand. And never that much. But there was no question of not doing it.
I held it to my mouth and licked each finger, sucking them clean, before moving on to my palm. “Wipe off your chest, Jane. Clean it up.”
Again, I just did it. I wiped my chest with my fingers and began sucking his cum off of them. The salty taste was even more delicious than it had been when he fucked my throat. He watched me, his hand still firmly in my hair, as I repeated the process over and over until I was pretty sure I had gotten it all.
He smiled and pulled upwards on my hair and I stood up. He kissed my lips, no doubt getting some of our combined juices on his tongue as he probed my mouth. He let go of my hair and pulled me to him again. I let my arms wrap around his waist and back, holding him just as tightly.
I rubbed my groin against his cock, unmindful of the painful sensings or mess I was getting on my skirt. He let out a small growl and scooped me up into his arms, cradling me, without breaking the kiss. He kicked off his boxes and carried me into the bathroom, turning on the shower with one hand, still holding me.
“Take your clothes off, little slut,” he murmured into my ear, setting me down to my feet.
I did and he pulled his shirt over his head and his socks off of his feet. We stood there, naked, facing each other and breathing heavily, as the water warmed up. He reached into the stream to test it, nodded, and tipped his head at the tub. I stepped into it, the hot water heavenly on my skin. He climbed in behind me and kissed the back of my neck.
I went to turn to face him but he blocked me. “No, wait.”
“All right, sir.”
I could practically hear his smile. He tugged gently on my wait, backing me up into the direct spray. He moved around and I heard a plastic popping sound. Before I could even ask, his hands were in my hair, gently massaging the shampoo into it. I witnessed and closed my eyes. “Lean on the wall, Jane. Let me wash you.”
I did what he said, resting my hands on the wall in front of me and leaning forward. He finished my hair and moved on to using a loofah with body wash on my back, ass, and legs. I shivered as he got near my pussy but he just kissed my neck again and moved with such gentleness I barely felt it. The steam was filling my nose with the scent of him and his products, and I closed my eyes, basking in it.
“Turn around,” he said, kissing my ear.
I did, opening my eyes and looking into his as he added more body wash and continued to wash me, starting at my neck, moving down to my breasts then my groin. His touch was feather light, dripping suds down my sensitive skin and massaging my muscles as he moved. He held out a small bar of soap and said, “For your face.”
I later it up and washed my face and neck, part of me sad to wipe them off, watching the drunk fluids flow to the bottom of the tub and go down the drain. “Rinse.”
I did, letting the hot water pour over me. I held out my hand and he raised an eyebrow. “Shampoo, please, sir.”
He smiled and gave me the bottle. “We should switch places then, don’t you think, little slut?”
“Yes, sir.”
We slid carefully past each other, barely touching. He faced the wall and I poured some shampoo into my hand and washed his hair. I took the loofah and washed his body, repeating his movements on mine. He turned without being asked and I washed his front. When I touched his cock, it sprung to life and it took everything in me to not tease him, to play with it again.
I later the soap myself and washed his face and neck, careful not to get any into his eyes. When I was done, I tugged him to the center of the tub and watched as the water rinsed him off. He was beautiful.
“Oh, Jane, you do make this hard,” he said, pulling me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “I need to let you rest, to get you food. But all I want to do is take you again.”
“I want that, too, sir.”
He laughed and turned off the water. “Such a needy slut.”
He kissed my forehead and got out, handing me a large, fluffy bath sheet. “Come on. We both need new clothes.”
“Yes, sir.”
I followed him out of the shower and wiped myself down. We went back into his bedroom and he opened the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out two sweatsuits. “I think this will work for today, as long as you pull the strings on the pants, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
We both got dressed, the soft cotton rubbing on my skin. Neither one of us were wearing underwear, but that seemed right. He took my hand and led me to the kitchen. “How about if I just make breakfast, then? I don’t think that your heels would look right with that outfit.”
“Yes, sir.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not Thomas?”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think I can call you that, sir. Not here, anyway.”
He kissed my forehead and judged me to the table. “Work should be interesting, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many pancakes?”
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