—-
She sat arrogantly and her eyes conveyed an unspoken challenge. At eighteen years old she was my junior by fifteen years but, for her, it counted for nothing; I represented authority in name only.
She wore her blonde hair in a pony tail scraped back severely from a face that had a natural beauty which she seemed determined to disguise with crudely applied cheap cosmetics. It seemed perverse, therefore, that she was dressed in a manner that was guaranteed to draw attention.
When she walked in the room her skirt was so short that it threatened to reveal her underwear with every step she took and a blue lycra top strained to hold her ample breasts in check. I could have taken issue with her and cited the dress code but I did not want a confrontation before we had even started. She was my very first and I was determined to get it right.
I kept my expression impassive but my heart was beating fast and I looked down at my paperwork to hide my momentary anxiety. After a count of three I looked up again.
“Laura, you’ve been told how this works. This will be the first of five or six sessions after which I will make a determination about your future. Perhaps we can start today by you telling me what happened in your own words.”
She said nothing for a few seconds and I sensed that she was weighing me up but I held her stare as I had been trained to do and waited for her to break the deadlock.
“It’s on the file. Why do you need to hear it again?”
“I’ve read the file and I’ve reviewed the court transcripts but I want to hear it from you.”
“And if I co-operate? What’s in it for me?”
“Laura, I won’t lie to you. You are going to serve a custodial sentence but the length and nature of that sentence will depend on the outcome of these sessions.”
There was another silence as she contemplated her choices. She had already seen off two case officers and it had been made clear that I represented her final option. For a few seconds I feared that she was going to get up and walk out and it was to forestall that outcome that I prompted her.
“She was a teacher, but she was only a few years older than you…”
Laura smiled very slightly at that. I had been not been allowed to speak to Miranda Coombes but I had read her testimony and had seen her on television throughout the trial. She was a stunning redhead and the cameras had loved her; so much so that she had left the teaching profession and now worked as a news anchor.
Laura would still not be drawn and I tried a slightly different tack.
“You say she accused you of cheating….”
Her eyes hardened just a little and then, after a long pause, she spoke.
“I beat her blue-eyed girls and she couldn’t take it.”
Ironically, in light of later events, it turned out that, despite being dyslexic, Laura had an above average IQ and there was no reason to believe that her score in the disputed non-verbal reasoning test was anything other than genuine.
“Do you think that justifies what you did?”
“She put me down in front of the whole class. She got what she deserved.”
Miranda Coombes’ ordeal had lasted for three days. Laura had followed her home to her flat and, having discovered her address, she turned up on the following morning with her two accomplices.
They had never been found. Coombes had given a detailed description; two women in their early twenties one blonde, one dark, both of medium build with better than average looks. She said that they had distinctive northern accents but Laura had consistently refused to reveal their identities.
“The police report says that you kept her naked the whole time and that she was spanked repeatedly, all three of you taking turns over three days.”
Laura smirked at that.
“The silly bitch should have done what she was told.”
I was edging into new territory. Much of the court evidence had been given ‘in camera’ and was not in the public domain but, in the end, this had proved counter-productive and had lead to much lurid speculation in the press.
“What did you want her to do Laura?”
She gave an evil smile.
“You read the papers, what do you think?”
It had been very difficult to tell fact from fiction. What was not in dispute was that Laura had pretended to be Coombes and had phoned in sick. It had also come out that Coombes had spent much of the time handcuffed to her own bed.
“Was it an apology? Is that what you wanted?”
“Oh she was ready to apologize as soon as we ripped the clothes off of her.”
“But you must have known that you wouldn’t get away with it.”
“She wasn’t going to tell anyone, you can be sure of that. It was just unlucky that her boyfriend turned up.”
I have to admit that, for a moment, my interest was more than purely professional and Laura seemed to pick up on the nuance.
“Do you want to hear me say it? Would that excite you?”
My mouth was a little dry but I did not want to admit to it and I left my glass of water where it was on the table. Her smile widened fractionally, as if she could read my thoughts.
Her two previous case officers had both been men. Laura had goaded them with sexual innuendo to the point where it was deemed inappropriate for them to carry on. That was why I had been drafted in. My inexperience counted against me but female case officers were currently in short supply.
As I watched she casually pulled down on her top to straighten it but, as she did so, her nipples began to stiffen. I kept my eyes locked on hers but they were there at the edge of my vision and they just continued to grow.
My own nipples are fairly prominent when I am aroused but they bore no comparison to Laura’s. The long teats looked set to tear through the flimsy blue material.
“It’s a little cold in here don’t you think?”
The fact was that the room was comfortably warm but I was suddenly feeling somewhat hotter. When I walked into the room I was determined that I would not be fazed and I was comforted by the fact that the interview was being monitored on CCTV but the unseen audience only seemed to spur her on.
“It’s very simple really. I wanted her to kiss my ass.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
As soon as I said it I wish I had not. The cardinal rule was to keep the language simple. The girls must not think that they are being spoken down to but Laura was not fazed.
“Well I guess you could say both. Metaphorically, she was going to beg for my forgiveness but, in order to do that, she was literally going to kiss my ass.”
“Coombes says that you beat her, that you made her do it.”
She laughed softly before she replied.
“We slapped her backside a couple of times, that’s all it took, She was a total wimp.”
“She says that you made her kneel.”
“How else was she going to take down my jeans?”
My pulse quickened just a little. This was something new, something that was not available to me in the transcripts.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s very simple. I bent over the arm of the chair. She took down my jeans and panties and then she begged.”
At that moment I was shocked. I had read the papers but even they had not embellished the story to this extent. I tried to get the interview back on track.
“She did as you asked, and very quickly by your account, why didn’t you let her go? It would have been your word against hers; you could have pleaded guilty to assault and avoided the kidnapping charges”.
She did not reply for a second or two, almost as if the question had not occurred to her
“She gave in too easily. She spoilt the fun so I made her beg my friends as well.”
“Tell me about your friends.”
“Don’t be a stupid bitch. I told the police nothing and I’m certainly not going to tell you.”
I let the insult pass. It was my own fault, I thought that she was opening up to me, but I had misread her.
“Okay so you made her beg your friends as well. Did they undress?”
I hope I appeared clinical, as I tried to understand the ritual, but I sounded slightly awkward even to my own ear. Laura looked at me as if I had asked a stupidly obvious question.
“So what happened next?”
For the first time since she walked into the room she looked slightly on edge.
“Are you a lesbian?”
I blinked in surprise.
“No, I’m engaged.”
Without thinking I showed her the expensive solitaire on my ring finger.
“It’s just that you look like that actress…Portia something”
“Portia de Rossi?”
“That’s her.”
I could see that there might be a facial resemblance to the lesbian actress but she probably went a couple of dress sizes smaller than me. It was just intriguing that Laura should think that, because we looked a little like one another, we might share a common sexual orientation.
There was an awkward pause before she continued.
“I’m not a les but seeing that bitch kissing ass made me as horny as fuck. I decided to see how far I could push her.”
I tried to keep my expression neutral but I felt a frisson. She was revealing more than I dared hope but, in truth, it was not just my professional curiosity which was roused.
“We had to spank her a little but she got the message. She wasn’t that good, she cried the whole time, but what a fucking power trip. She just kept licking until I told her to stop and you better believe that took some while. In the end I came like a train”.
I hoped that I projected my disgust. She was clearly out to shock me but I wanted her to believe that I had heard worse. I said nothing and simply waited for her to continue.
“After that the others wanted some attention. We found some booze and made ourselves comfortable.”
I tried to imagine the scene and the fear that Coombes must have felt. I wondered how I would have reacted. I told myself that I would take a beating, that nothing would make me degrade myself in that way, but, then again, I had no real idea what they might have threatened her with.
I was lost in these thoughts for a moment or two but then my nostrils twitched. The room had a slightly stale, institutional, odor but I was now aware of a new smell, something vaguely familiar. I breathed in again, trying to place it, and then, with a shock, it registered. My eyes opened a little wider and I saw the amusement in hers.
She had her hands beneath the table and I realized that I had made a mistake. The rules called for her hands to be in plain sight at all times and I had not enforced it. My immediate reaction was to snap at her but to do so then would have been to admit my error and might be construed as a show of weakness.
I decided to maintain a professional demeanor and ignore it but I found myself looking at her arms checking for signs of movement.
She slouched a little lower on her seat and picked up where she had left off.
“Well you must know, a sexy woman like you, once is not enough for us girls. We all took another turn and it seemed to go on from there. We didn’t even have to leave the place to eat. We just helped ourselves from the kitchen.”
Her arm was flexing, barely noticeable, but just enough and the smell grew more redolent. I should have told her to stop but I was desperate to hear how her story panned out.
“You’ve seen her, how beautiful she is, can you imagine her down on her knees in front of you? Her mouth was really hot and her face was so smooth and delicate, not like a man’s.”
She was trying to provoke a reaction and, outwardly, I refused to rise to it but, for a few brief seconds the picture she painted was emblazoned on my mind. I could see myself looking down at that mane of, now famous, red curls with my fingers entwined and I could almost feel her tongue.
I shifted in my seat and pulled myself together.
“Let’s just stick to the plain facts.”
Laura gave a knowing smile and then I heard it, almost imperceptible, but there was no doubting. It was the sound of the soft suck of moisture.
In spite of myself I felt my cheeks begin to redden. She was sitting there, less than a meter in front of me, with her hand inside her panties. I should have stopped the interview right there and then but I did not and from that moment the course of my life changed forever.
I chose to ignore it, to pretend it was not happening, but Laura knew exactly what effect she was having. She also knew, as I did, that the watching camera was situated behind me so that she was only visible from the waist up.
Giving in, I took a much needed sip of water but, as I put the glass back down on to the table, I glanced furtively at her chest. Her nipples were still obscenely erect and, seen in outline, they were commensurately large. The heavily dimpled areolae were inches across and they seemed to have a maturity which was somehow inappropriate for one so young.
I took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes once more but she was still smiling knowingly.
“Like what you see? You only have to ask.”
With that she used her free hand to lift her top and, for a couple of seconds, her breasts were totally revealed. Without thinking my eyes dropped but I looked up again almost immediately.
“Cover yourself up.”
She slowly pulled her top back down into place but the after image lingered. Her breasts were heavy orbs crowned with dusky pink nipples so large that they seemed to melt into the surrounding skin but what stayed in my mind were the teats themselves standing proud enough to cast shadows.
She sat silently, almost sulky, and I tried to draw her out again.
“You stayed in her flat for two nights wasn’t that a little reckless?”
“Maybe, but she was getting better and better with practice. Just think about it. She was there to be used; when we woke up, after meals, even when we were watching her TV.”
I should have felt abhorrence, not least because of the casual nature of her cruelty, but to my eternal shame I felt a familiar tingling between my legs.
“Why did the other two leave?”
“They had to get back but I was greedy. We had her handcuffed to the bed, totally helpless, and I couldn’t resist one last time…and that’s how her boyfriend found us, with me sitting on her face.”
“And he arrested you?”
“I reckon he took his time about it. I think the bastard watched until I was finished.”
“A little unlucky that her boyfriend was a policeman.”
“She wouldn’t have pressed charges, she didn’t want it coming out, but once he knew what was going on he couldn’t turn a blind eye.”
I decided to wind things up and reassert my authority.
“Well Laura, I think that’s enough for now. I would like to thank you for being so candid with me but I have to say that your description of your victim’s ordeal and your obvious lack of remorse inclines me to feel less well disposed towards you right now.”
She looked at me coldly, as though she had expected no other outcome, and then she slowly got to her feet.
“A couple of things you ought to know. We didn’t take the handcuffs with us, we found them in the flat after we got there…and, yes, we made her beg but she was still begging long after the spankings stopped”
I sat stunned and, as she held her hand out to me, I shook it without thinking.
—-
She knocked at the door and, after the guard came in and escorted her away, I gave her a moment and followed her out. I quickly turned towards the ladies room and then stood still at the sink.
For a few seconds I looked down at my hand like Lady Macbeth but instead of thrusting it under the tap I tentatively brought my fingers to my nose. I could smell her from inches away, and my first thought was that the scent was surprisingly like my own.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and blushed. I was a trained professional supposedly doing my job and here I was loitering in the lavatory like a guilty schoolgirl.
The room had two stalls, both empty, and I slipped into the nearest one.
I do not know what possessed me. I had never before entertained fantasies of sex with another woman but, having locked the door behind me, I slowly and deliberately eased my hand down into my panties. It seemed so perverted, almost as if I were rubbing myself against her, but the immediate sexual charge was almost overwhelming.
It was wrong on so many levels. I enjoy a healthy sexual appetite and had probably had more than my fair share of partners prior to getting engaged but I had never got so close to orgasm in such a short time. It was made worse because I knew that it was fueled by a combination of Laura’s outrageous behavior and the story she had told.
I was not even using my fingers. The warmth of my hand and the knowledge that it had been tainted by her touch was enough of itself. I desperately tried to conjure an image of John, currently working two hundred miles away, but all I could think of was that young harlot and, more particularly, her remarkable breasts.
I was jolted back to reality when I suddenly heard a door opening and then the sound of someone occupying the adjacent stall. I quickly rearranged my clothes, flushed the bowl, and walked out. This time I did wash my hands scrubbing them more vigorously than necessary but I convinced myself that the whole thing was a temporary aberration. There had been no harm done and it would certainly not happen again.
Now I wanted to get home and have a shower. After that I would write up my case notes and get my relationship with Laura Simmons back onto a totally professional footing.
I looked at my watch and was surprised to find that only a few minutes had passed since the interview ended. I went back down the corridor, the way I had come, and walked into the observation room where I had left my coat and bag.
“Are you okay?”
The girl sitting at the monitor did not look much older than Laura herself but the fact that she had drawn this duty meant that she was at least one year post qualified. It seemed an odd question for her to ask but I answered politely.
“Yes, I’m fine thank you.”
I found myself checking the monitor which showed the empty interview room and, whilst I had seen it before, I now noted just how clear an image the camera relayed.
“You could have used the chicken switch.”
She was referring to the panic button on the underside if the desk which would have brought the guard running.
“I think I had it under control.”
She smiled but I thought I detected a faintest hint of condescension. I then noticed that she was not wearing her clip-on tie and had undone the top buttons of her blouse. This would not have seemed out of the ordinary were it not for the new governor’s insistence on a strict adherence to the uniform code.
Only then did it occur to me that she too might have been affected by Laura’s display. She turned round and ejected a DVD from the machine putting it carefully into a case.
“Do you want a copy?”
She kept her expression neutral but that was just something about the way that she said it and I replied tersely.
“I am not entitled to a copy.”
She gave a tiny shrug of the shoulders.
“I thought she came out with stuff that didn’t come out at the trial.”
“Even if she did, it’s strictly confidential. She’s already been tried and convicted. The purpose of these interviews is simply to assess her suitability to join one of the new rehabilitation programs.”
She looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I felt a little guilty. In the scheme of things she was way down the scale compared to my exulted status but the job she and her colleagues were doing was both demanding and draining. If she was earning a third of what I was getting I would have been surprised.
It was very easy to see the uniformed staff as drones but it had to be remembered that they too had had to qualify to do their jobs. In fact, I found it interesting, from a professional point of view, to see the lengths to which they would go to to assert their individuality.
This young woman had obviously adjusted the darts on her standard issue white blouse to emphasis her attractive bust line and her skirt had been shortened so that it was probably just on the wrong side of regulation length.
I also noted that she was wearing make up. This too, whilst not strictly prohibited, was discouraged but hers was very subtle. She had beautiful blue eyes which she had pointed up with a light mascara and a very pale grey eye shadow. I found myself checking out her full lips. If she had not used lipstick then she had certainly used a clear gloss.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap.”
She smiled genuinely.
“There’s no need to apologize, I guess she got us both a little hot under the collar.”
I did not know how to reply. It seemed important to repudiate her assertion, even if it held a strong element of truth, particularly as she was now looking at me conspiratorially.
“She’s very young. She was just testing the boundaries. She’ll come into line.”
“Young or not did you hear the things that they made that woman do?”
For reasons I could not explain I found myself mounting a defense.
“She also suggested that there was some give and take.”
She was silent for a second or two and appeared lost in thought. She idly toyed with her hair, which, whilst kept to the proscribed length, was cut in a rebellious elfin style.
“Do you believe her?”
“It’s possible. All else apart, some people have a naturally dominant personality and others are perceived as innately submissive. There are innumerable case histories of manipulative personality types influencing others do their bidding”.
“But do you think that she could make someone do that?”
I was beginning to find her questions both impudent and a little intrusive and my reply was more sarcastic than I intended.
“How would you react if I asked you to come over here and get down on your knees?”
I hoped that my rudeness would bring an awkward conversation to an abrupt end but she looked neither angry nor aggrieved. Instead, her expression was odd, hard to read, and there was a long pause before she replied.
“Is that what you want me to do?”
She was not replying in kind. She said it quietly and I was shocked to realize that she was framing it as a genuine question. In the next few seconds my thoughts crowded in on one another and my heart began to race. My conscience screamed professional integrity but there were darker forces at work deep in my psyche.
“Lock the door.”
The words came from my mouth but it was as if it was not my voice. There was no hesitation on her part. She rose from the chair, turned the key in the lock, and then waited.
I could see now that she was some inches shorter than me, perhaps five feet four, but she had a slim build and her body was perfectly proportioned. I knew that I had to act quickly before I lost my nerve.
“Come here.”
She took half a dozen steps to close the gap between us and I noted that she was no longer looking me directly in the eye; instead, she kept her eyes downcast at the level of my neckline.
She stopped in front of me and I sensed that she was awaiting instructions.
“Kneel down”
I held my breath, wondering if this was a step too far, but she slowly dropped to her knees.
In seven years of psychology training nothing could have prepared me for this. Had I been asked I could have given an analytic appraisal citing character traits, natural urges perhaps even suggestion techniques but that all seemed a world away.
“Lift my dress.”
This was the moment. My panties, already partly soiled by my activities a few minutes earlier, had become appreciably damper in a matter of seconds and I was inviting this young stranger to witness my arousal.
She reached forward, almost reverently, and took hold of the hem of my dress. She paused for a heartbeat and then slowly lifted it
Almost at once I could smell myself and, for an instant, some deep seated sense of propriety made me feel a little ashamed, but then I saw the look on her face.
My panties had started the day a pristine powder blue but they were now visibly discolored by a damp patch that was still slowly expanding and, as I looked down, she leaned inwards.
That which, only a moment ago, had seemed sordid now became shockingly compelling.
“Get closer. I want you to smell me.”
For the first time she appeared to hesitate, as though she might be entertaining second thoughts, but I could not stop now.
“Do it.”
My tone was a shade harsher and it brought the required response. She inched forward until her tip of her nose was almost touching and then I saw her chest swell as she breathed in deeply.
Only a quarter of an hour earlier I had hesitantly experienced the scent of another for the first time and now here I was demanding the same of someone else and I found it thrilling.
“Keep breathing.”
She was holding the breath that she had drawn but I wanted her to keep filling her lungs; driven by some previously untapped inner arrogance I was determined that she would never forget me.
She breathed slowly through her nose and the simple act of watching was enough to make me hotter.
“Take them off…”
I was tempted to add the word “slowly” but it proved unnecessary. She gently took hold and peeled them delicately down to my ankles allowing me to step out of them and leave them where they lay.
She returned to her station and her eyes were wide with excitement, and perhaps a little trepidation.
“Take off my skirt.”
I turned my hip a fraction, revealing the side zip, and she slowly worked the fastening. As the dark material slid down my legs I pushed it aside impatiently with my foot.
I now stood with my legs a little apart and she knelt before me gazing at my sex. In truth it was a little untidy. John liked me to have regular waxings but when he went away for any length of time my rebellious streak kicked in.
My protuberant labia now emerged from a young dark growth which, to my mind, conveyed a rightful sense of maturity. We remained frozen in place but the stillness of my body was not matched by the beat of my heart which was pounding ever faster.
I was going to make her lick me, I knew it, she knew it, and the sense of power was intoxicating. I could feel my sex swelling, opening just a little, and then the prickling of a single bead of moisture as it traced its way down my inner thigh.
Her eyes slowly dropped following its slow sinuous progress and then, for the first time since she went down to her knees, she looked up at me. I made her wait for a silent count of three and then I smile indulgently.
She needed no further encouragement. She bowed down and touched her tongue to my knee and then slowly worked her way upwards following the silver trail.
Her tongue was hot and the touch slightly ticklish but I almost swooned with the pleasure of it and she, for her part, gave a deep purr as she lapped the taste of me from my skin but as she drew closer to my sex she paused as though again unsure. Her tongue lingered in the crease than formed the border of my mons and her nose nuzzled at the undergrowth with a soft rasping.
I tolerated it for a moment or two but I was, by now, almost breathless with anticipation. I brought my fingers to my sex and eased myself open presenting the heat and wetness. My own scent was stronger than I had ever known it and it must have wreathed about her face with an almost tangible thickness.
She seemed almost frightened by it but there was no way I was going to stop now.
“Look at it.”
Again there was an unaccustomed edge to my voice but it had the desired effect. She moved away just a little and stared at my open maw and I could feel myself oozing beneath her gaze.
“Don’t keep me waiting.
I looked down on her as she put out her tongue once more and, for a second or two, my knees threatened to buckle but then she eased forward and I felt the first hesitant touch.
No confirmation was needed; I could tell that this was her first time. She kept her tongue still as she experienced the warm softness and the raw taste before she began to gently probe testing the resistance of my labia.
The ease with which she was able to slip inside seemed to take her by surprise and I moaned as I felt her tongue swelling within but I needed to retain control.
“Not yet…I want you to lick me.”
She reluctantly withdrew but immediately began to use the flat of her tongue in a series of broad sweeps from the bottom to the top of my sex.
Her technique left much to be desired but the fact that she was a woman and the knowledge that she would do anything I asked was enough to bring me to the edge. Realizing this, she moved a little higher seeking out my clitoris.
“Take your time.”
I could have surrendered to an orgasm right then but I wanted to savor the moment. I knew that my interview was the last booking of the day and there was little chance of us being disturbed.
She looked up at me with a hint of petulance in her eyes but she hunched lower and picked up the rhythm once more.
I placed my hand lightly on the top of her head and, for the next few minutes, I continued to direct her.
“A little slower…”
“Harder…”
“Inside…”
“Taste me…”
She followed each new instruction without demur and seemed gripped by an inner calmness but I knew that I could not hold out much longer. I let my hand slip a little to the back of her head and then gave one last command.
“Now…”
Her neck was, by now, a little stiff but she ignored the discomfort and adjusted her stance. I guessed that my clitoris was no larger than average but, just then, it felt as if it had swollen to twice its normal size and she found it unerringly.
That first touch was electric and my whole body shivered with the pleasure of it. I had reached a climax whilst standing on many occasions but this was like no other. She was licking with a new found ardor and I found myself grinding my sex against her face.
Desperate for relief I gave up any pretense at control but my body refused to let go. It was as if it knew that a few more seconds of exquisite tension would bring a reward beyond measure.
I looked down at her again but her eyes were fixed as she licked ever faster. Her face was red with exertion, her forehead glistening with perspiration, and only then did it occur to me that she too was close.
The thought that she could come without touching herself, simply through this act of devotion, was the final trigger. My body stiffened and then shook as jolts of pleasure coursed to every extremity. They radiated from my sex and then surged back to collide with even more powerful tremors so that I was caught in a quaking ecstasy.
It was as quick as it was violent and this was just as well. I could not have taken much more and I recognized that the desperately muted screaming that I could hear was my own.
As my body finally began to relax I realized, guiltily, that I had held her pressed hard against me throughout and, as I released her, she gasped for breath.
Having assured myself that she was okay I slumped down into her chair but, even now, my body was still shaking slightly. As I tried to compose myself I wondered idly if she had managed to come herself. She looked totally washed out, convincing me that she had, and this sparked a new train of thought.
I wanted to know, now that it was over, if she felt embarrassed or perhaps guilty. I was surprised to find that I felt neither but I was mischievously determined to find out. I opened my legs revealing the sodden mess that my sex had become. A mix of saliva, perspiration and arousal had matted the dark growth and my labia were lewdly relaxed.
She was still looking at the floor, gathering herself, but my spoor was in the air and it finally caught her attention. She turned towards me and, as she did so, I stroked a finger over my pubis.
“Come and clean me up.”
She appeared disconcerted, as though she misunderstood, and then she looked aggrieved and, for the first time, it occurred to me that she might have expected me to return the favor. The fact that I was going to disappoint her was oddly exciting but I knew that it was important to reassert myself.
“Over here…”
I could see, in her eyes, an internal struggle being waged but I could almost feel her bending to my will. Slowly but surely her body began to move and, without getting up from her knees, she came towards me.
No further words were necessary. She began to lick at the salty residue on my inner thighs and then she began to groom my pubis itself. As she did so she made a soft sucking sound and I felt a growing twinge.
I did not think that I would be capable of more but hearing her as she diligently went about her task was threatening to bring me back to the boil. She understood what was happening and began to exploit her advantage.
Her tongue roamed over my pubis, sometimes returning to my thighs, but she avoided my labia and very soon I was squirming. This went on for some time but finally I could take no more and I whispered under my breath.
“You little bitch…”
She looked up at me from between my thighs and smiled broadly and then in one movement she clamped her mouth to my sex and sank her tongue deep inside. I was taken by surprise but then I tensed my muscles and held her in.
Once again she must have had difficulty breathing but she made no attempt to free herself and as I looked down at her worshipful eyes and her buried nose seemingly fringed by my pubic hair I felt myself start to come for a second time.
This time it was not so intense but I made it last longer as I rode it out and the whole time I was aware of her swallowing down my offering.
When it was over I was breathing hard and I remained slumped in the chair with my eyes closed. When I opened them again she was standing in front of me proffering my clothes. For a space of time we had suspended reality but now it was back with a brutal harshness.
She had cleaned herself up as best she could and was now anxious for me to get dressed. I became aware, once more, of the background noises that marked out the building as a storehouse of misery and I put on my clothes without a word. We both knew that, had we been caught, we could have said goodbye to our careers and we parted in conspiratorial silence.
—-
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ialjy3/the_laura_effect_ff_fdom_humil_part_1_of_5
That was amazing!