Poor Little Rich Slut (21 page)

“It isn’t against the law?”

“Not any law I know of.”

My heart was hammering my chest. My cunt trembled with need.

We just clicked after that. He took my hand and led me trailing him to the squad car where I sat in the passenger seat, he on the driver’s side. When he pulled out his erection, I stared at it for some time, trying to grasp the meaning of what I was doing and the stark reality of the organ that was getting firmer by the second.

I finally dropped my head into his lap and opened my mouth, swallowing as much of the big thing as I could. I’d had practice giving head, but there were scents and textures I wasn’t used to, a whole culture seemed locked inside that steamy member. I knew that I wanted more of it, more of him. I wanted to strip my clothes away. I wanted him naked. I wanted to climb on a big, thick mattress with his black body and fuck his dick until I passed out. Maybe it was the drink telling me these things, but my desire leap-
frogged
over any previous hesitation.

Still, I couldn’t have what I wanted, so I took what I could have. The organ slid deep into my throat, again and again. My mouth sucked the muscle hard; my spit made him wet. When he rested a hand on the back of my head and began to groan, I started to feel a deep roar of satisfaction bring my body to the brink of orgasm.

Oh, God yes!
my
mind screamed, while my mouth kept working. My hands jacked the shaft, loving the feel of his uncircumcised skin—too bad his balls were still buried in his pants. Soon, he moved his hand from my head to between my legs and stuck several fingers inside my pussy. I exploded almost instantly, riding on his big hand. I came hard.

“That’s it, you get off, baby,” he purred real nice. “Get off on the black man’s fingers.”

I came as I kept sucking, harder, faster, wanting his cum to spurt inside my mouth. While still feeling strong spasms wrack my belly, I felt his body give way. His penis seemed to detonate inside my mouth, jetting one thick stringy stream of cum after another. Again and again my mouth filled with his cream, until there was finally nothing but a wet drop or two at the tiny hole. I kept lapping it afterwards, licking his receding tool dry. Then, finally, my nameless black man pulled my mouth off his prick and lifted my head by my hair.

“You got what you wanted?”

“Yeah, I got what I wanted.” His spunk still clung to my mouth; I could feel the sticky stuff drying on my face.

“That’s good.”

I sat back and took a deep breath.

“Thanks. I mean, really, thanks,” I said.

“First time?” he asked.

I looked at him quizzically.

“First time you’ve had a black man?”

“Yes, oh yes…and I’d do it again.”

“But not tonight, girl.
You gotta go home now. So do
I
.”

I opened the car door and stumbled out, moving in the direction of my car. While fumbling for my keys, I heard his car door open and shut. He was on my heels.”

“You ain’t gonna be driving, lady.”

“I’m fine now,” I said, the words still garbled in my mouth.

He didn’t argue, just wrested my car keys from my hand and, taking me by the arm, led me back to the squad car. Opening the back door, he shoved me inside.
“Safer this way.”

“You’re not going to arrest me!” I cried to him as he slid back behind the wheel.

“Nice as you were, I think you need a night in dry-out.
Won’t hurt you at all.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

He wasn’t listening. Then, neither was I. I passed out on his backseat and remember nothing more until I came to when the car suddenly stopped with a jerk. We were in the parking lot behind the police station.

I remember little about the next hour. No arrest, no prints, no mug shots.
But a lot of confusion and cameras, and my sodden body being swept away from one place to the next.
Phone calls were ringing in my ear as I tried to stay awake, but I was only conscious by a thin thread. I must have repeated a hundred times over, “But I just gave the man a blowjob—a really good blowjob.”

For reasons I wouldn’t understand until much later, there was a whole contingent of the city’s late night Press-Corp in that police substation: a shooting in the neighborhood, I’d find out later. What a score they made that night, a shooting
and
a rich heiress dressed like a slut, drunk and shouting,
‘But I just gave the man a blowjob—a really good blowjob…’
over and over and over.

I felt Garrison’s strong muscles lifting me and holding me against his chest even as the cameras were still clicking all around me. At the car, his car, he laid me in the back seat and sped off as soon as he could slide in behind the wheel and get the engine running. He’d taken care of everything after he intercepted the police call to my father’s penthouse. I suppose I was lucky it was the first number they called once someone at the station recognized who I was. Lucky too that Garrison answered the phone.

As I feel asleep in a bed in Garrison’s townhouse, all I could think of was I sure wished I could have said goodbye to the black man. He had such a nice, hard cock.

I was so adrift that I didn’t even notice that there were cuffs clamped around my ankles and chains leading to an eyehook in the floor, locked securely with a padlock.

“Garrison Tate, you asshole!”

I woke with a splitting headache and I had to pee. But what happened while I tried to make it to the door—the chain attached to my ankle cuffs kicked in and I was thrown back, off balance. My queasy stomach might have heaved if I hadn’t forcibly held it back.

I sank to the floor screaming.

When the door finally opened and a cool-headed Garrison appeared, I started in with a full attack.

“
You fucking
asshole. I have to pee. What do you think you’re doing?”

He didn’t say a word, but marched right out and returned with an oval, metal waste-can. “Here. Use this.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said as I sat up. My head was spinning.

“I’m not. You’ve done as much before,” he said pointedly.

“What is this? You’re keeping me locked up?”

“Just till it’s safe for you to go out again.
Suffice it to say, you won’t be going to work for a while. I think your Daddy will explain it as a needed sabbatical.”

I shook my head as I finally comprehended what he was saying. It didn’t take a lot of smarts to know that I’d blown it bad with my reputation.
At last.
Finally.
It certainly didn’t surprise me. Whatever he said, or explained I just kept shaking my head.

“Are you listening, Heiress?” he finally shouted at me.

“Yeah, I’m listening, sort of.”

“Well, you’d better listen more than sort of.”

“Don’t have to.”

His anger boiled to the surface. I thought he was going to slap my face.

“Yeah, you just get mad. Get pissed,” I baited him. “Go ahead, punish me. That’s what you want to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure.
Why not?”
I sassed.

He was livid, removing his belt, while I snickered, taunting the anger from him with my own emotion, my own need for a righteous reprimand—
I’d just never get away from that!

He picked me up; I was practically naked. With one swipe of his hand, he flung my skirt up over my bottom. He sat down on the bed and pulled me over his lap, then let the doubled belt fly against my behind. My bottom burned and I howled. I wriggled and cried and wrenched my body as hard as I possibly could. But the man held me fast and close to his body. I felt his beating heart and, even stronger, the emotion welling from his gut, and deeper, more powerful than that, his tumescent cock pulsing against my hip.

Still, I did not stop the all out war, nor did Garrison the smacking slaps of the leather belt against my naked rear. The skin burned. But soon, the blistering heat traveled inside me and I couldn’t help the eroticism that moved through every nerve and vein of my body.

Garrison was stronger, bigger, more focused than me. In time, I would lose; I think I knew that, even as I was still giving my protestations an all out effort. I battled him until I exhausted myself. I realized then that my stomach was so queasy that I was about to retch. Garrison seemed to sense the troubling chaos in me and slowed the spanking, until he gave me one final, blunt smack.

His one hand lay heavily on my back to steady me, while the other drifted down between my legs. He didn’t fondle me, but let his hand rest where my sex pulsed angrily.

I thought he would say something, give me the lecture I surely deserved, the dressing down, the talking to I honestly wanted. I had ammunition to spit right back at him and could already feel the words coming to my throat.

Suddenly, I wasn’t over his lap any longer, but on the bed with my back to the mattress. He fell into me and we were back to making love as we did in the meanest, nastiest times, kissing, biting, scratching, scratching back, biting back, groveling over the bed, anxious and driven by the powerful emotion.

The chains on my ankles clanged; my feet got tangled but we kept mauling each other with little thought of anything else. His dick was hard and in my ass, my mouth, my cunt, fucking me in every possible position. I felt like a rag doll one minute and an aggressive Amazon the next. But to every angry or defiant play of power on my part, he knocked me back down, forcing my submission.

I finally relented. I could have fought more, but I wanted to relent. I wanted his arms to hold me now and kinder lips to kiss my mouth, gentler hands to hold me, softness,
peace
, anything but the war. For a time, however, Garrison kept fucking me, fucking me hard. I waited for words of love, but none came. He fucked me missionary at the end until he was ready to shoot and then he pulled out so he could spray his ejaculate all over my mouth and breasts.

He said nothing as he lifted off me.

For a minute or so he sat on the bed beside me, silent, catching his breath. Then he stood up and walked out.

Funny, I still had to pee.

***

“Do you have any idea what your night’s little escape has cost you—and the company?”

The opening salvo wasn’t promising.

When he threw the newspapers in my lap, I understood just from the pictures and captions exactly what he meant. I didn’t have to read the stories. It was nice to know the fallout, I guess. Since we had sex, I’d been pretty much ignored for three days, locked in that room, chained to the bed. I’m sure he was too pissed off to talk to me. The second day, he tossed in a few magazines and paperbacks to read, but I wasn’t much interested in anything but reframing my life in my mind.

Now that he was actually willing to talk, I sat up and looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m sure it wasn’t pretty,” I said.

“Wasn’t pretty!
Oh, that hardly describes how the press feasted on your debacle… especially that nasty blowjob comment.”

I wanted to shrivel up and crawl away, but instead I took a deep breath and prepared to listen more.

“It’s going to take some doing, but we’ll phase you back into the magazine… after a sabbatical, a few months, then you can start with a ground level position at first, just to keep your foot in the door. You can’t run the show since you’ve lost your credibility for now, but you’ll work industriously for a year or two, people will forget and finally you can move your way up the ladder again. I’m still trying to decide where this can start…”

“I’m quitting, Garrison.”

“You’ll have to give up the big office. You father isn’t sure if he’ll put you…”

“I’m quitting.” I raised my voice as I cut him off.

He hadn’t been looking at me, but he looked at me now and finally responded, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no, you can’t quit.”

“I can. I have as far as I’m concerned.”

“No, Ellie.”

“I’ll write a note to Daddy as soon as you break me out of this jail. I’ll fly to
Paris
on the first available flight and stay in Daddy’s condo until I decide where to go next.”

I think he finally got the fact that I was serious.

“But you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do that. I really, honestly want to quit. I want to fly to
Paris
and put this all behind me. From there, I have no clue what I want to do, but I imagine I’ll stay clear of everything having to do with Daddy’s business empire for at least the next couple decades.”

“Ellie, this is so…”

“So necessary.
It’s about time that I found out what I want for my life. What I’ve had so far certainly isn’t it.”

He looked deflated, even sad. And for the first time since I met him, he seemed at a loss for words.

The cuffs and chains came off. I could finally shower. The next day I was in
Paris
,
standing on the balcony overlooking the Champs-Elysées, smiling.