I hate how my hands shake, a noticeable flaw of my own innocence, but still, I push through, pulling off my cotton shirt. My eyes flicker around the room, unsure of where to set it, before I decide on the table beside the door that holds decorative pieces and keys.
When I turn, the man is still standing there, brow slightly arched in curiosity. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s disappointed.
My bra isn’t anything fancy. Just simple. An Olive bra that contrasts well against my mocha colored skin. My hands move to my bra straps, and I hesitate. His eyes narrow, watching my skittish movement as I ditch my efforts of taking off my bra, and move to my skirt.
I know prolonging it won’t help in the end. I’ll be naked before him sooner than I’d ever be prepared for, but I take as long as I can to strip myself of my garments.
I note his agitation. The way he tenses his jaw on and off. His hands clenching into fists on and off as I shove down my skirt, leaving me in boy shorts. He snickers amusedly, and my face falls.
I guess I’m not up to his standards.
Although he’s just bought me, that still hurts.
That look of sheer distaste has been presented to me before. By other guy’s in my past, and yet it doesn’t lower the sting.
When I’m just in my panties, heart racing in my chest, hands clammy with nervous sweat, I halt. I still don’t know his name. I’m about to strip for a man who owns my life, and I haven’t even asked something as mundane as that.
Suddenly, the urge to know crashes down and I sputter.
“W-what’s your name?”
His nose and mouth wrinkle disinterestedly.
“Do you think you are in a position to be asking anything of me?” He steps forward, his anger a quiet but deadly force within him that makes you step back.
All I wanted was his name.
It’s simple.
And he can’t even extend me that kindness.
“Please,” I beg, voice quivering. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering from the cold look in his eyes. “I just need –“
With one long stride, he’s got a hold of my face, his firm grip digging into my jaw, causing pain to pulsate up my skull. He takes a deep breath, jerking me forward until his mouth is hot and wet near my ear
“Might I remind you that you’re here for my needs. Your own aren’t a concern of mine,” He rasps, before letting me go. He gives a sharp nod.
“Continue.”
His in-hospitality is staggering. I nibble on my bottom lip, hurt in my expression as I slowly nod, and slip my hands beneath my bra straps. I tug them down my body, blinking rapidly to expel the threat of tears.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
Not in front of him.
I’m already exposing myself enough.
Crying is a vulnerability I can’t afford if I want to keep a part of myself safe. Just as I get the straps down, and I’ve angled my arms behind my back to undo the clasp, he curses and shakes his head.
“Enough,” He grits out, spinning on his heel and storming off. He leaves me alone in a vast house, scantily clad in underwear for anyone to stumble upon.
Why is he so angry with me?
I just got here, and I’m already failing at doing what I need to do.
I sigh, running a hand over my face, before I slowly follow the direction he took in the house. I listen for him, completely unsettled by the coldness lingering on the barren walls, and the silence.
It’s like a graveyard.
“Um, should I call out to him?”
I voice that aloud, afraid to disturb what other monsters may be lurking around the corner, but none of them show.
I decide against calling out for him. Instead, I venture deeper into the house, eyes bulging when I hear grunting coming from a room a few feet ahead. I purse my lips, careful to step lightly, just in case I stumble upon someone else, but when I get to the door and peer through the crack, an audible gasp leaves my lips at the scene before me.
He’s –
He’s really…
I can’t even finish the sentence in my mind.
I watch in awe at my mystery buyer perched on the edge of his desk, his pants unzipped, a monstrous dick in his hand that’s veiny and swollen. He grips his meaty length ferociously, stroking himself as his mouth falls slightly agape, and a ragged breath leaves his lips.
His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing rippling abs that are just begging to be touched. I’m startled by my willingness to participate.
Regardless of my situation, my body responds like any woman’s will, and I feel my insides clenching.
I let out a shaky breath, knowing I’m snooping on what should be a private moment but as soon as I go to move away from the door, we lock eyes, and I swear I see a smirk on his lips.
He saw me.
He actually saw me.
I should run away. Scurry back to some secluded part of the house, and sit helplessly in a corner, but it’s too late. By the goading look on his face, he expects that.
So I watch.
He does long strokes with his hand. The tip of his dick is swollen and purple, as he squeezes himself. Ecstasy and pain move through his gaze as he continues to watch my face and jerk himself.
His hips thrust forward, a groan leaving his lips, and I watch in fascination as jets of cum erupt from his throbbing dick.
It coats his stomach, dripping down his muscles toward his dick, and when he’s milked his length with his hand until it stops twitching, he nods to me.
“Clean me,” He demands, and I’m moving forward without a second thought. He doesn’t shield the surprise on his face that I’m willing to clean him intimately.
I move towards him, eyes scanning the room for something to clean him up with. I spot a box of tissues on his desk and move to grab them when he captures my wrist, eyes blue eyes darkening with potent lust.
“No.”
“Use your tongue.”