Shanking Shaw 7

Emma laid back, reaching down to finger her labia with either hand, drawing it aside like a set of curtains and displaying to him the shocking pinkness of her aroused womanhood.

Scott rewarded her with a wordless roar, thrilling Emma’s senses even before he spurted his seed onto her trembling stomach, into her neatly manicured pubic hair. Emma stared down at it, gasping at the amount of hot cum that’d landed on her with one ejaculation… then cooing as the heated wetness rushed over her slit. She let out a soft cry with the warmth seeming to penetrate her… drawing her knees up to her chest.

Scott continued pumping away, not hiding his delight with her obeisance. Ropes of his cum lashed her groin, her clit, driving a slavish pleasure into Emma with each sign of his approval in her. With her ass upturned, he even spurted against her crinkled anus.

Emma cried out softly, yielding her own enjoyment to his savoring ears and twisting her naked ass on the floor, now heedless of whether it was worthy to touch her bare flesh. “Yes, come for me! Show me how hard just the sight of me makes you come!”

She fingered open the hood of her clit and rubbed Scott’s burning cum against the little bud. As Scott continued to spurt, Emma used that as an appetizer, determined to make herself come. To use his kinky pleasure to get herself off. The combination of his warm semen with her own practiced touch proved decadently delicious on her already feverish body.

“I’ve always loved having a man come all over me!” Emma snarled, determined to show Scott that he hadn’t degraded her, that his provincial prurience could only amuse her. She was far too worldly to have limits he could ever find. “Come on my fucking cunt, Scott!”

She lifted her ass higher, rubbing at her cunt, smearing her most intimate space with the heat of Scott’s semen. Her clit tingled with hardness.

Stony-faced, teeth gritted with how enthused he was, Scott jerked his prick upward.

“Bastard!” Emma gasped, feeling him unload his overfull balls on her face now. She shut her eyes quickly, felt his pungent cum coat her tightly pressed lips and flaring nostrils. The smell and feel of his spunk invaded her senses, becoming her world—what had been a spice for her aroused delirium now felt like an overdose.

Her pussy lurched and with a muted squeal, she thrust her hips upward, her body shuddering as she began to orgasm. The thought of herself, the lovely White Queen, with her pristine face masked by what felt like pints of boiling seed… as atrocious as it was, the shock of it broke through any misgivings she might have left over from five minutes ago, when her smug superiority wouldn’t have allowed her to even consider taking Scott as a lover.

Scott stared at Emma’s pussy, watching the swollen lips throb, the subtle dance of Emma’s hips as she worked herself up and down in the air, cavorting with a lover who wasn’t there to truly satisfy her—not that it mattered when the feeling of being tantalized was so overwhelming already.

Though Emma’s perfect body most definitely deserved further enthusiasm—to be bathed in milk-white cum, were it in his power—but it wasn’t. The stream of Scott’s ejaculation lost its force.

Emma looked up at whatever Scott was to her with fiery eyes, her orgasm cooling, but leaving behind the piquant memory of how hard she’d come at being debased. She kept holding her knees to her chest, her hips writhing slowly into the heat of his cum on her naked body.

“On your feet,” Scott ordered her.

Emma was in no mood to argue. Her body was still suffused with the pleasure of the whole degrading, but weirdly worshipful experience. For all her seductiveness, the sultry body she showed off almost pathologically, she didn’t know if she’d ever felt as desired as she did now.

And for all Scott’s control, it had been like he would die if he didn’t have her. Or, at the very least, mark her. Not just with his eruption. With knowing that she’d come, come for him, both willing and unwilling.

An orgasm too good to resist and too good to deny.

“Come here,” he told her, now that she was standing.

Emma approached the bars until she was close enough for Scott to reach through and touch her. Until she was so close that her voluptuous breasts actually pushed through the bars like they were trying to touch him. Why not? What could he do that was more impactful than coating her in his cum?

Then she realized. His cum running down her face, sloshing over her plump lips, made her think of another touch on her mouth—made her look at Scott’s lips, harsh and stony as a granite statue, but erotic in all their reserved fervor.

Dripping with his cum, Emma’s lips involuntarily parted. He wouldn’t, would he? He didn’t mean to actually kiss her when she was like this? Or was he so proud of what he’d done to her that he wouldn’t mind how his own cream pervaded and permeated her visage, smothering her own taste under the heady musk of his completion?

Without thinking, Emma licked her lips clean, the exact flavor of his semen hitting her taste buds and sending her senses reeling. It was a strong taste, a conquering taste, and Emma almost went for more before restraining herself. It would be so easy to finger some off the rest of her body and bring it to her mouth. But she’d already given in too much.

So she only sucked on her inundated tongue, fully savoring all of the taste she’d already gotten.

Scott smiled. That was what he’d been waiting for. He leaned in close and took a good whiff of Emma—it was like he could smell the telltale scent of her saliva on her lips, underneath the hanging miasma of all the cum he’d rained on her.

“You really are a dirty bitch.”

Usually, Emma would take such an assessment as a compliment. It was a mark of how shaken she’d been by the whole experience—and by that last moment of weakness at the end—that she scowled at him.

“A dirty bitch who made you come.”

“Yes,” Scott agreed shamelessly.

He spoke with barely a misplaced breath, like he’d already discarded what he’d done, while Emma was still overwrought with it. Or like he’d filed it away, unimportant now. His focus instead on what he would use Emma for next.

“The one thing that didn’t fit all I knew about you was why a woman as beautiful and intelligent as you, Emma, would suborn herself to a lout like Shaw. But now it’s clear. You crave subjugation.”

“And do you crave dominance?” Emma asked, not sure if she really wanted to know, merely trying to score a point for herself somewhere in all this… beyond that spectacular orgasm she’d somehow managed.

“I crave perfection. We have that in common.” Scott backed away, letting Emma see herself in his ruby quartz glasses. “I’m going to make you into the perfect sex toy that Sebastian Shaw never could. You’re dismissed. Leave your panties here.”

“Going to hang them up on the wall like a trophy?” Emma asked sarcastically.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Great minds think alike. Remember: no sex, no masturbation. Unless you’d care to come back here before next week.”

“What’s next week?”

“Then you have to come. And if you still want to be fucked—which I suspect you will—I expect you to make an effort. Entice me. Stimulate me. Don’t let your naked body do all the work. You give the sight of that to anyone. I expect you to fawn over me. Like any woman should, when a man makes her come like you just did.”

Emma scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”

A shrug was too casual for someone as controlled as Scott, but a motion he made with his eyebrow served the same function. “I’ve told you the rules.”

“And how would you know if I went from here straight to an orgy?” she challenged him.

“That’s a question you should ask yourself. Since you seem so worried.”

Huffing, Emma turned on her heel and gathered up her clothes, fully prepared to stalk out of there naked rather than spend another moment in Scott’s company.

“Emma…?” he needled.

Taking her panties out of the pile of clothes in her arms, Emma flung them back at Scott.

***

There were many reasons why Emma tended towards such scanty attire. She genuinely found her look fashionable and avant-garde, for one. She considered her body an instrument of war as much as it was a tool of pleasure; showing it off was rather like keeping a blade sharp or a gun fully loaded.

And thirdly, she did enjoy taunting all those around her with a body they wanted but couldn’t have. Whether it was women who would love to possess her ample breasts, flat stomach, and toned ass—or men who would kill to possess her in a different way—everyone wanted her, was infatuated with her. At the very least, she infused them with an idea of her and they loved her, hated her, had to do something with that concept. Anything but ignore.

She greatly enjoyed walking around a perfectly average streets, collecting stares from everyone she passed, like a goddess paying a visit to the mundane world. Not one man in a million didn’t have a fantasy about her, committing the sight of her to memory to later revisit as they masturbated or took their far more ordinary lover to bed.

How it amused Emma to play starring roles in the dreams of everyone around her, while they were no more than walk-on roles to her. And if they pleased her, with a kinky fantasy or a beguiling body, she could pick them out of the crowd and have her way with them. It didn’t require anything more than a crooked finger. If she wanted, she could do it right out on the street. Who would deny her?

Suddenly being deprived of that culmination threw the entire equation off-balance. Like quitting cigarettes cold turkey, Emma didn’t know she had something of an addiction until it was, yes, denied to her. Now those passing fantasies she so loved to sample seemed like cruel goads. The man on the street who admired her tits and ass got more use out of them than she did.

Emma tried to shut down her telepathy and ignore all those wandering eyes, those frenzied thoughts inside their private skulls, but she’d been raised an irrepressible gossip. The prospect of knowing what others thought of her—and knowing that it was unfailingly appreciative of her beauty—was too much temptation for a woman who’d spurned constraint for virtually her entire adult life. And so she teased herself with enticements she couldn’t stop exposing her mind’s eye to.

She needed to be away from people as much as possible until she’d wiggled out of Scott’s cruel edict… she didn’t want to defy his control so soon, sensing he wanted that. Of course, he also wanted her to obey his rule. The man had left her with no way to win… except for that orgasm she’d gloried in when he’d fully marked her, owned her, and his quiet words in parting:

Unless you’d care to come back here.

That would be truly intolerable. After he’d humiliated her, to come back begging for more? No. Impossible. Though it might put him off-guard, to do the one thing he didn’t expect of her—no. She wouldn’t even consider that.

Feeling adrift, in need of something to distract herself from the prospect of seeing Scott again… how long would it be, a week, a whole week… Emma stopped in the park to feed the birds. She could hardly concentrate on the fluttery things, as jittery and aimless as she felt, but she didn’t need to focus. All they wanted from her was the birdseed she’d bought from a vendor on the way in.

“Hello there.”

Emma looked around. There was a seedy looking old black man sitting on the park bench opposite hers. His face was withered, his body cushioned with fat, but there was power in the thickness of his thighs and arms. Big, strong hands dipped into a bag of popcorn and flung the kernels out nearly to where Emma sat. Hungry pigeons fought over them, amusing the man—diverting his eyes from Emma’s body for a few moments. When they returned, their absence made Emma feel herself being newly caressed all the more.

Emma sneered. His dirtiness reminded her of how Scott had observed her. Though Scott had had the certainty that she was his to possess. This man was just too old to care that she would as soon spit on him as look at him.