After she was paid, she hopped on the dais and spread her legs wide again, pulling the crotch of her panties aside to show me what I wanted to see. It was wet and an enticing rose color in the dim blue light of the room—the color Renaissance painters should’ve used to paint the light of Heaven.
I stared, hypnotized, as she slowly let her hand drift from her neck, down past her breasts to the gentle rise of her pubic bone. From there she traced wide, light circles around her pussy, a loose spiral across her lower stomach and inner thighs, drawing closer and closer, and when she finally grazed her clit, I let out a shaky breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
She too sighed at her touch, her hips rocking tiny little rocks into her hand, as if she was unconsciously trying to fuck the air, and I was beginning to lose track of everything that wasn’t her cunt. Didn’t she know I could fill it for her? Didn’t she know I could make her feel good, if only she’d let me?
I stood up and walked to the dais. Our eyes were at the same level, and I kept her gaze as I slid my hands from her knees up to her inner thighs, my thumbs coming teasingly close to her pussy. I did it again, this time daring to go closer, wondering if she would let me, if her lust would overtake her rules about money. My thumbs ran over her folds and she shuddered, and so did I, because holy shit, she was wet. So wet that I knew I’d be able to push my dick right in with no resistance.
“You want to stick your fingers inside me?” she asked.
I nodded, taking my thumbs and spreading her folds apart, moving that smooth pink flesh aside so that her entrance was completely exposed, begging for fingers or a cock.
“It’s going to cost you,” she said mischievously, placing her hands over mine.
“You drive a hard bargain,” I breathed. Hard was the right word for how I felt too. I was about three seconds away from unzipping my jeans and taking matters into my own hands (as it were.)
I found the bill, folded it lengthwise to make it easier for her to stow away, but this time she didn’t take it with her fingers, she took it with her mouth, her lips grazing my fingers, and it was so degrading, so wonderfully degrading, and the Herod in me was exultant on his throne, delighted with a king’s delight to see her with that money in between her teeth, knowing that now her pussy was mine to touch as I wanted.
She raised up on her knees as if to stand, but I was getting what I paid for, and right now, and I wrapped one arm around her waist and yanked her down, onto the two fingers I had waiting for her. She cried out and I smiled grimly, planning on taking full advantage of this particular service tier. With the arm around her waist, I pushed her down even farther, so that her pussy was grinding against my hand (which was currently smashed against the dais, but I didn’t mind,) and so the hot locus of nerves at her front rubbed relentlessly on my palm. My fingers crooked forward, finding the soft textured spot that would send her over the edge.
I moved my fingers while I crooned in her ear. “If I make you come, do you have to pay me?”
She laughed but the laugh immediately faded into a ragged sigh as I pressed her harder against my hand. I bit at her collarbone and at the soft skin around her pasties, her wetness quivering against my hand and that silk bow just begging to be wrapped around her wrists, and then she came with a sharp noise, bucking fruitlessly against me as I held her tighter, worked her harder, wrung every last drop of pleasure from her climax.
As she came down, her body relaxed against mine, but I was nowhere near relaxed. I slid my hand out from underneath her and put my fingers to her lips, making her suck her own taste off of them, my other hand unbuttoning my jeans.
Poppy glanced down and back up to my face. “You want me to put it in my mouth?” she asked, looking at me from under her lashes in a way that was utterly fucking debilitating to my ability to form coherent thoughts.
I grabbed a few bills and tucked them into her bra myself. Then I took that silk bow in hand and slowly untied it, baring that lovely neck for me to suck and nip at, as I slid the silk through my hands—reverently, like I would hold my stole or my cincture.
I pulled back and wrapped one end of the length around her neck, tying it to itself in a secure knot—the kind of knot that meant I’d be able to yank on it without worrying about it tightening around her neck.
Leash secured, I wrapped the loose end once around my hand and gave an experimental tug. She jerked forward a bit, making a surprised noise, but her pupils dilated and her pulse thrummed in her neck, so I felt free to pull again, forcing her to slide carefully off the dais and to her knees. I sat in the chair and made her crawl to me, watching the way her tits swung as she did.
Once she was in between my knees, I yanked up, perhaps a bit harder than I should have, but I was almost lost with lust at this point, lost to my inner caveman and my inner Herod, and all he wanted was that pretty red mouth on his dick right the fuck now.
She curled her fingers around the waistband of my black boxer briefs and pulled down, and my dick sprang free, jutting up between the V of my zipper. I wound the end of the leash around my hand a few more times until the silk was taut, and then I pulled her head to my cock, but she didn’t open her mouth right away, those red lips sealed. But the hint of a smile was at the corners of her mouth, a delighted defiance in her eyes, and I remembered my kitchen counter all those weeks ago, when she’d asked me to steal her kisses—no, not even steal. She’d wanted me to force them from her.
So I wound the leash tighter and jerked, her mouth now pressed against the underside of my penis, the sensation of her breath against my skin enough to make me wild.
Play the game, Tyler.
“I paid you to suck,” I hissed. “You can either suck me on your own or I can make you do it. So unless you want that, you better open that pretty little mouth and do your fucking job.”
She was covered in goose bumps, and I didn’t miss the way she tried to rub her thighs together. Impatiently, I stuck a finger between her lips and forced them apart.
“Put me in your mouth,” I warned, “or there will be hell to pay.”
It didn’t take an astute observer to notice the extra flare of interest in her eyes at that idea; she wanted there to be hell to pay, but I also think she wanted to suck me, because she finally perched her candy apple lips at my tip, and—meeting my eyes as she did so—slid her mouth down and over me, her tongue flat and scorching against my shaft.
Keeping my hand tight on the leash, I leaned back to watch the show, watch her breasts move as she worked me, watch those hazel eyes gaze up at me with a look that would get me hard in the shower for years to come. And those lips like a gorgeous red halo around my dick…it was the only halo I ever wanted again, a circle of wicked wants and devilish delights.
Up and down she went, sometimes fluttering her tongue, sometimes running it in a hot, wide line down my shaft. I thrust up to meet her, hitting the back of her throat and—losing all semblance of patience—grabbed the back of her head to keep her from pulling away. I held her head with both hands and pumped that way for several long seconds, fucking her throat like I fucked her pussy—hard and without apology, and she deserved it for being such a brazen, shameless tease.
“You like that?” I asked. She was breathing carefully through her nose, and she couldn’t speak, so I talked for her. “I know you do. You like it when a paying customer treats you roughly. It makes you wet to be treated like the slut you are, doesn’t it?”
She made a noise that could of have a yes or a no or simply a moan of pure pleasure. Whatever it was, it made my stomach clench and my hands dig into her scalp and my balls tighten with the need to release. But I didn’t want to come in her mouth.
“Off,” I ordered, pulling on the leash. She obeyed, coming off my dick with watery, smudged eyes and one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on her face.
I used the leash to bring her face to mine as I leaned toward her. “How much to fuck?”
Her smile faded into a darker expression, an expression that promised me everything I wanted. “We—we aren’t supposed to do that,” she said faintly.
“I don’t care,” I growled. “I want to fuck you. How much?”
“The rest of what you have,” she said, with a defiant arch of her eyebrow, and I silently commended her for her dedication to our game. I took out my wallet and the remaining cash—about $700 (fuck, Poppy had a lot of money)—and then tossed the bills in the air. They floated slowly down to the floor.
“Pick them up with your mouth.”
“No.”
“No?” I tugged on the leash, just enough that she remembered it was there. “I want to get what I paid for. Now. Pick. Them. Up.”
I saw the moment she gave in by the set of her shoulders, but as she started to bend down to reach for the bill closest to her, I put my shoe on the money. “Panties off first.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, and I don’t know what my face looked like, but whatever expression was there must have convinced her that she didn’t want to test me. She stood up, hooked her thumbs at the sides of her panties and slipped them down, one gold heel coming off the floor and then the other as she stepped out of them.
Then she bent over and began collecting the money.