Watching her pose during her nude shoot was a sublime experience. She was beautiful; stretch marks, scars and tattoos alike. She owned that shit. It made her all the more irresistible to him, the way she owned her skin and made love to the camera, her sex appeal permeating to frame. In his pants there was a bulge, one he intended to unleash upon her, not with the way she kept looking at him with those piercing eyes. He mentally canceled all the plans he had for the evening. She was his only plan. Her pleasure (or was it punishment?) his sole priority.
She could tell, from the way he looked at her, that she was getting it that night. He discretely tugged at the bulge in his pants to her delight, and she watched him shift in discomfort at the way his denims squeezed his manhood. The shoot was almost over anyway, so it was about to go down for them. Although the studio was already cold, her nipples stood more erect as her own arousal built up as she watched him watching her, telepathically sharing their thoughts through their eyes, unspoken words and undone deeds that led to tingly skin, slightly elevated heart rates, heightened lust and primal sexuality. And at last, the photographer announced they had captured more than enough shots from the three hour session. They smiled. The photography team left the studio, leaving the two of them together, in that electric air of their heightened sensuality.
He helped get her dressed, to quicken the pace. For what he was about to do to her needed that apartment kind of privacy; he was going to drench the floor and bed with her juices. That water she’d been drinking, those pineapples she’d been eating… he wanted it all. But first, he would tie her up, feed her pineapples and whipped cream, sip red wine off her supple skin, tease and punish her the way she did in that studio, before finally giving her what she craved. He whispered a silent prayer while helping her into her coat:
“Forgive me Father, for what I am about to do to her. Repeatedly.”
She turned and faced him, face flushed and warm, lips slightly parted. He was close, so close, yet so far. He stared at her with fiery intensity, opening the door for her so they could leave. They needn’t cause a scene at a professional work space. They left, said their appreciation and goodbyes briskly, got in the car and drove off.
That 20 minute drive felt like forever, especially because it was tense and charged. Sexually charged. They got to the apartment building, parked and sat still for a moment. Then he spoke.
“That was impressive. I’m very impressed by you.”
Punishment was certainly on the menu. They rode up the elevator in silence, his hand gently squeezing her ass, and while she fumbled with the keys he kissed her neck so tenderly. She steadied herself and found the keyhole, then let them in. He locked the door behind them while she set her purse on the table and took her coat off.
“Strip, and kneel on the carpet.” he ordered. She did as was told as he went to the kitchen. She heard him open and close the refrigerator, then two cabinets. She then heard the faucet go on, heard him wash his hands, then it went off. Silence – he was probably drying them on the hand towel right beside the sink. He then joined her on the carpet, carrying a bottle of champagne, strawberries and whipped cream. He knelt opposite her, picked up a succulent strawberry and fed it to her. She bit into it, his eyes never leaving hers, and chewed slowly as he trailed the remaining half over her collarbone and down to her nipples before eating it himself. He took a second one and fed her, repeating his motions, and went down to her navel. And a third, going down to the diamond at the meeting of her thighs.
Next he took the whipped cream, sprayed some on his thumb, and fed it to her. She licked and sucked it all off, his thumb lingering, watching her suck on it like a child would a lollipop. More whipped cream, more thumb and tongue, and again. Then he kissed her, gently at first, then demanding that her tongue let him taste the strawberries and cream off her tongue. He abruptly ended the kiss, leaned in closer to her and pushed her onto her back slowly and deliberately. He then stood over her and took off all his clothes, finally freeing his erection from his denims. He spread her thighs and knelt, his erection pointing directly at her, as if to say “this is all for you.”
Sipping champagne, he let it swirl in his mouth then went down to her nipples, leisurely swirling the golden liquid over her left nipple while his tongue flicked on it. She sighed and raised her hands to hold his head in place. He gently disentangled them, swallowed his champagne and whispered,
“No touching, until I give you my permission.”
It was going to be hard, especially with the way he teased her with his lips and tongue, and his hot skin felt on her. Fuck. Grabbing the carpet was the next best alternative. He worked his way, champagne and lips, alternating with strawberries, down to her mound, where he gently parted her folds with the tip of his tongue, to find her clitoris. She smelled fragrant – pineapples. Like what she had earlier. Using the tip of his tongue he teased her, working his way in up / down, circular motions from her clit to her labia minora, to her vulva, dipping the tip of his tongue inside her to taste more of her wetness. And my, was she flowing! He went back up to her clitoris, lifted the hood with his right thumb and launched an attack on the sensitive flesh with his tongue, his left index and middle finding their way inside her and going deep. She arched her back and moaned. She wouldn’t last like that and he knew. His tongue flicked and twirled, his fingers vibrating and making waves inside her, working her g-spot to fervent sensitivity levels. Her thighs started shaking, her moans coming out in staccato. She was about to climax. And just before she did, he stopped cold turkey and looked at her quivering body, and face crunched in passion.
“Why did you stop, Sir?”
“Not yet your time to cum.” He lowered himself onto her, placing her legs on his shoulders, then sank slowly and deliberately into her until he was lodged deeper than she had ever had him. He stroked her, long, slow and deep, feeling the pressure of her orgasm build up around his dick. He looked her in the eye, she was so close. Her breath was shallow, her body quivering under his, her hands desperately in need of his skin and muscle.
He ordered, and she came undone. The squirt came in endlessly hot squishy jets, her body convulsing, her hands fighting to touch him. He took them, one by one, placed them above her head and thrust as she squirted, going deep and tapping the bottom of her pussy, coaxing her to squirt it all out. It came in waves and waves, until she felt completely dehydrated. He then pulled out, got up and helped her up. Led her to the bedroom, laid her and spread her eagle on the foot of the bed, then sank into her once again. Then he went to town, choking and fucking her with his basest primal instincts, roaring as he reupholstered her pussy and made her lose all sense of self. She shuddered repeatedly under him, moaning and screaming, as he tattooed his dick print on her insides where he once had.
“Fuck! I’m coming again,” she breathed between moans.
“Don’t hold back.” he said.
“I can-” it came over her, took hold of her body, exorcised her soul as she gushed yet another ocean on the floor. Mind blank, nerves on high alert, body in his possession, soul hovering over and watching her arched body as he stroked and she came. She was completely owned, whether she liked it or not, and he had the key to all her locks.