Shanking Shaw 6

Scott’s lips stretched to either side with pleasure at her antics, his teeth gleaming like his glasses were. The only difference was one of hue.

“You can start enjoying yourself right now. Why don’t you get down on your knees, open your mouth, and give me somewhere for all this cum to go?”

“Dear God,” Emma spat, still staggered by all that had happened, reeling from the feel she’d gotten of his erection just moments ago.

She grasped the powerful sinews of his lean arm—feeling the sculpted muscles work rhythmically with his masturbation. It was like holding her hand to a steel rail as a train rumbled closer and closer.

Emma breathed heavily, still trying to get hold of herself, realizing that these next few moments were crucial. You could only make a first impression once and Scott’s introduction to her had seen the White Queen chiefly on her heels, if not on her back. She had to exert herself now, make of herself a formidable opponent in his ruby-steeped eyes, or he’d know he could walk all over her.

Unless she wanted that. Scott wouldn’t be the first man to underestimate her. It could be a very advantageous position to be in. He might never suspect the true depths of her feelings until it was too late. She could be ‘his’ for as long as that took; eventually, Scott would realize that he’d been hers all along.

With difficulty, she recovered some of her wits. “Is that an order?”

Scott’s voice had become roughhewn with the nearness of his climax. “It’s an invitation. But you’ll like the taste of my cum. Most women do.”

His tightly fisted hand never stopped pumping and wrenching his long, thick cock. Emma didn’t know why her eyes kept drifting… being pulled… to the lewd manipulations. It was the kind of thing she’d see in the background of any of the Hellfire Club’s orgies. Was it him? Was it her?

The knowledge that she’d be subservient to that member, servicing him until he was ushered to the same pleasure he was now showing her. It was intoxicating in the most literal sense of the word, stealing away her reason, leaving only a heady focus on his masturbation that left no room for her to sort out her thoughts or feelings.

She gaped at his swollen manhood, her blue eyes glazed now. Fixed on the blood-gorged knob as it pulsed rapidly, racing with his stroking hand. There was so much of his thick-veined hardness for even his big hand to grasp. God, it was almost the size of the animalistic dildos Emma’d had to be intimate with on her way up the Hellfire Club ladder. Maybe not as thick, but as long… or nearly.

Emma’d had to find a new level of control to take that level of penetration. And those had been cold, dead sex toys. Not a living, aroused, warm-blooded beast with bloated balls, even now throbbing away under the never-ending working of Scott’s hand. Shaft and testes both swelled with his virile cum… waiting to release hotly seething seed… Emma couldn’t imagine how much there was. Perhaps, like Scott’s pumping at his own violent erection, the release would be endless.

“Come on now, Emma. Down on your knees. You don’t have to take my cum, but you’re at least going to try it. See how it tastes. See how good it looks on that perfect face.” Scott grinned at her like a razor being drawn across his mouth. “See if I can get it in your open mouth… enough to satisfy that whore cunt you have without touching you.”

“What?” Emma gasped. Every word he’d said had gone into her ears, reached her brain, been processed through her overheated thoughts. The salaciousness of it reverberated inside her, like a gong had been struck, having such an impact that it was hard for her to believe she’d heard him right.

She pictured herself, naked, kneeling before his lustfully hardened masculinity with lips parted, tongue held out. Soliciting his launching sperm in a climax to the seduction that had somehow begun with her walking in here, immaculately dressed, to make him an offer in cash.

“I said down,” Scott repeated himself, his smile becoming a scowl. “You don’t have to swallow—not yet—but you are going to wear it. And you’re going to wear all of it. Every last drop.”

A low whimper escaped Emma, barely making it to her own ears, as she compared herself now to what she’d been a few minutes ago. It literally wasn’t her. It was Scott—something about him—something roughhewn and hard, yet wielded as precisely as a scalpel. He seemed to know her, intimately, just the right amount of forcefulness to use on her. She couldn’t resist. She couldn’t hesitate either.

Her hungering eyes feasted on his excited cock; Emma whimpered again with the realization he’d grown even more swollen. Was his cock surging in size, thick with cum about to fly out, or was this just the apex of his excitement? The bludgeoning club he’d attain before entering her.

He slowly worked his foreskin up and down, showing her again and again his turgid knob. Emma watched, enthralled, trying to imagine how it would feel for her vulnerable womanhood to split around that bloated intrusion. She’d taken men as big as Scott before… or almost as big… somehow, they didn’t seem as immense when she was ordering them around, knowing she could use them up or leave them destitute.

But how would he fuck her? As strong and calm and controlled as he was now, or with the fury she felt underneath the surface? When he felt how tight she was, all the sweetness of her sensual body underneath him, would he lose all decorum and absolutely ravish her?

“Oh!” Emma trilled, feeling a little pang of lust touch her—a craving of her body for his. There’d been times before when her overactive imagination had gotten away from her, running ahead of her mind to shower her desire on a target she hadn’t yet deemed worthy. But no one had ever incensed her as Scott had and then provoked a reaction in her against all her better instincts.

Perhaps… she should go along with it… Her flesh wanted what it wanted and she’d never been much for restraint. She’d indulge herself now and later… later… Emma realized her mind had wandered, her entranced eyes focused on his bloated balls dancing and swaying heavily down between his muscular thighs.

Her thoughts whirled as if she’d drenched them in 100-proof whiskey. The wanton passion she felt truly was getting away from her, raging now as it hadn’t for anyone else. She fed her desirous eyes on the whole operation, from his stroking hand to his heated erection to the cum-filled balls pulsing underneath it all… and she felt faint.

Her breath ragged, and with only a fleeting thought for how dirty the floor must be—she wondered if, in deference to Scott, it was spit-shined—Emma laid down on her back. And there, she posed for him, her arms up and entwined above her head, fingers clasped. Very slowly, she rolled her hips in a carnal provocation, her breasts jostling with the motion of her body.

Scott’s eyes fixed on her engorged, reddened labia. When Emma arched her pelvis, he saw the pink inside her, her folds opening and roiling with lust on the inside. His cock panged, seeming to leap for the girl, his stroking hand holding it back more than anything else.

“I told you to kneel,” Scott said, enough annoyance making its way into his voice that it had to be deliberate—hiding how much he truly wanted her, perhaps.

Emma smirked. She’d steered into the spin; he’d been ready for her to hold back, not for her to give in. “You said ‘down’. And you also said you’d give me your cum. Well? I am waiting.”

Scott let out a grunt of a laugh. “Open your cunt to me,” he said.