Seduction (14 page)

“I don’t understand,” I said, and this time when I looked at him the tears brimming in my eyes were real. “Why have you been holding on to all this? What are you going to do with it? Why arrest me today?”

“Today was different,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I like the way your tits look in that top, so I thought, today will be the day that I fuck her.”

“What?” I stammered. I stood there for a second, unsure I’d heard right (but knew I had).

“I’ve been watching you for months,” he said, moving closer to me. I took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. My back was against the door as he continued speaking. “The first time I saw you, I thought, she’s an impudent little bitch, that one, and arrogant. Thinks she’ll never get caught. But then you bent down to look at something, and I got a look at your ass in your tight jeans, and I thought, I’d rather fuck her than arrest her. I knew you’d be back. I’ve come across your type before. Posh girls like you, stealing for kicks always think you can get away with it. So I waited. And I recorded you. Every time I see you coming in I get hard, thinking about how one day I’m going to take you up here and what I’m going to do to you.”

I stood mute, my body trembling.

“Now,” he said, waving the tape under my nose, “I’ve got enough evidence here to send you to prison for a few months at least. I reckon you’ve stolen at least five grand’s worth of stuff from this shop in the last year.” He smiled a humorless smile revealing white teeth, and pointed to a sign on the wall that read: WE ALWAYS PROSECUTE THIEVES. “So I’ve got a deal for you: You drop your stolen panties for me here, and I’ll destroy the tape in front of you.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“And if you don’t, then you’re going to wish you’d never set foot in this shop, princess, because your nice little life will be ruined.”

My mind raced. All the things I had to lose flashed before me. I wished I’d never shoplifted in the first place, but it was too late for pointless regrets like that now. And then I conjured another series of mental images, including one of me on the desk being screwed by this evil giant fucker of a security guard. It didn’t turn me on, but it didn’t repulse me, either. I swallowed and decided to take the cock. The only problem, I thought, looking at his broad chest and thick fingers again, was the size of him. I’d always had slim, athletic lovers in the past. If this guy’s dick was in proportion to the rest of him, how would I get wet enough to accommodate him?

“Whatever you want,” I said, looking at the floor.

“Good girl,” said the guard, smiling again. “Right,” he said. “We haven’t got long. I’m back on duty in ten minutes. So to keep this quick and efficient, and to keep your end of the bargain, I’ll be in charge here. You’ll do exactly what I say.”

I nodded meekly, just wanting it to be over now that I’d agreed to do it.

“Take your clothes off then,” he said. With trembling hands, I began to undo my button-up dress, taking as long as possible to delay the inevitable until I realized that he might think I was indulging him in a striptease. It was anything but! I hung the dress on the back of the door and bent down to undo the straps of my shoes. Now I was before him in only my underwear: the blue bra and panties set that I had just watched myself steal on video. His hand slid to his crotch where he started stroking himself, but he stayed fully clothed.

“Keep going,” he said, with a leer. Slowly, I removed my panties, hooking my thumbs under the waistband before sliding them down my legs. I took my bra off, baring my pert tits and erect nipples, which were hard in the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“Lie back on the desk,” he commanded. I did so, the hard surface freezing cold under my skin. I yelped in discomfort.

“Spread your legs,” he said. He put his face between my legs, his warm breath caressing my pussy lips. To my surprise, I felt pleasant stirrings at the stimulation. He examined me for a second or two and then placed a thumb on my pussy.

“You’re not wet enough to take me yet,” he said, disapprovingly. “Do something about that.”

“What?” I said.

“Get yourself ready for me.” He stood back, arms folded, and waited. I had no choice but to bring my hand down between my legs. With one finger on either side of my clitoris, I began rubbing myself the way I always do when I want to get off. It was a tried and true masturbation technique that had never failed me before. But then, I’d never had to do it against my will; I’d always been horny before I started playing with myself.

Doing it now, under this man’s instructions, was weird. I was dry down there, which made the friction uncomfortable, so I slid my finger into my pussy to use some of my own juices as a natural lubricant. I closed my eyes, tried to lose myself in fantasy, but then the guard barked, “Keep your eyes open, you little bitch. I want you to look at me, think about what you’ve done.”

I locked eyes with him, and we were staring at each other as my body started to respond. I felt the first warm drops of moisture start to flow into my pussy as the whole area began to grow warm and tingle. Relief mingled with pleasure flooded my body. I wasn’t exactly going to come, but I would be wet enough to take his cock.

He put his face down there again and examined me. Despite my predicament, I was starting to get really horny. I craved his tongue against my clit, wanted the rough stubble on his cheeks to scrape the skin of my thighs.

“Okay, you’re ready,” he said, as though I were a joint of meat and he was considering whether it was time to carve and serve me. “You’re ready for cock. Now you need to get me ready. Get off the desk and onto your knees. Now! And don’t you fucking dare close your eyes again. Hear me?”

I nodded, then clambered awkwardly down from the desk and sank to my knees. I heard the wet noise of him licking his lips in anticipation and then the unmistakable sounds of a belt buckle and then a zipper being unfastened. I looked up at him as instructed and found myself in front of the biggest dick I had ever seen in my life. It was the size of a baby’s arm and getting bigger by the second. My eyes bulged in disbelief and fear as it grew more upright, thicker, and harder. Veins pulsed along the side of it.

“I’ve been getting hard for you for months now,” he said, a note of cruelty in his voice, “but I could do with being a little bit harder. What do you think?”

Before I could reply he thrust the tip of his cock between my lips, forcing them wide open. As the first few inches of his dick penetrated my mouth, I knew it was going to be too much. He probed harder into me. I tried to scream, but the noise was muffled. I gagged as he rammed my face, trying to stuff a huge dick into a space not big enough to accommodate it.

“You never thought this would be the consequence of your actions, did you?” he snarled as he fucked my throat, harder and harder. “You never thought you’d end up on your knees in here, did you? Never thought about this?” Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more he pulled out and used his dick to slap first one cheek, then the other. I fell on all fours, gasping for breath. He yanked up my hair so that I was level with him again, and before I could say no, he was there, in my mouth again. And, to my surprise, this time around, I found that my pussy was throbbing and my body yielding to an animal desire that had suddenly overtaken me.
I wish he was fucking me in my pussy and not my face,
I thought
.
As soon as I had considered those words, I felt a rush of heat to my cunt. I was ready to take him inside me. I needed to take him inside me.

“Okay,” he said and pulled me to my feet again. By now I was so turned on that my whole body had become liquid and my legs could barely support my weight. I was eye level with his chest, his huge dick banging against the skin of my navel.

“Back on the desk,” he growled. Somehow, I managed to climb back up there, lay on my back, and spread my legs to expose my quivering, waiting, hungry hole.

“Okay, you’re gonna get it,” he said hovering over me. He took a deep breath and thrust. The tip of his dick was soft and round against the wet lips of my pussy. Moments later, I felt a searing pain as he drove his huge rod into me. It felt like I would split in half. Pain turned to pleasure within a second. The harder he pumped my pussy, the wetter it got, and soon he was sliding that great big truncheon in and out of me so fast and I couldn’t have enough of it. He lightly slapped my tits and I whimpered with pleasure.

“
Oooh
,” he said, and now it was his voice that was unsteady. “She’s getting into it now. She’s enjoying her punishment. She wants it harder,” and with that he speared me really viciously. I had to grab on to the sides of the desk to prevent his violent thrusts from propelling me off the edge. His face grew darker, and as it suffused with blood, that scar on his chin, that sexy, bad-boy scar, grew more pronounced.

“She wants more,” he said, and I wasn’t even sure that he was talking to me any longer or to himself. “She can take a little more.” And with that he brought his hand down in a hard slap on my clitoris. The sudden, intense stimulation made me yell out with pleasure.

“She deserves everything she gets,” he said, raining down tiny slaps on my clit. I felt myself begin to lose control. As he fucked my pussy and spanked my clit relentlessly my whole body went limp for a few seconds before I came, violent spasms and a trickle of my fluids grabbing his hard-on in a warm, wet caress.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, whipping his dick out of my convulsing pussy and at the last moment forcing it between my lips. He shot his load into my mouth. I swallowed, aware of a sliver of hot, salty liquid that was spilling from between my lips and rolling down my neck.

Immediately after he’d come, he wiped himself with a tissue, put his dick back in his trousers, and looked at the clock. When I swiveled my body around and sat up on the desk, my pounded pussy was so sore I couldn’t put my legs together. He noticed and let out a cruel, bitter laugh.

“You won’t be able to walk properly again for days,” he said. “It will be a constant reminder of your punishment. And I let you off lightly for what you did, you spoiled little bitch.” Wordlessly, he handed me the tape, allowed me a few seconds to clothe myself. I didn’t even have time to wipe myself clean of the trickle of semen that was beginning to dry on my neck. He led me out of the tiny little room and down a side staircase before pushing me out of a fire door and into the sunny street, where I stood blinking in disbelief for a few seconds, still coming down from the high of my orgasm.

I hopped on the bus, eager to get home so I could fantasize about the whole experience again. By the time I got back to my apartment, I was planning what I would shoplift next time. It would have to be something daring and outrageous, something that would guarantee a repeat performance. Like I said, I’m a danger junkie.

FIREMAN’S POLE

The last thing I said to Fiona on the night before my bachelorette party was “I don’t want a stripper. Please don’t get me a stripper.” I’d seen too many brides-to-be have their big night ruined as they cringed in front of some narcissistic banana-and-whipped-cream-wielding moron covered in fake tan and sporting nothing more than a leopard print thong performing a lewd bump-and-grind in her face. “I don’t mind the tiaras and embarrassing gifts and all that stuff, but I’d be so humiliated by a stripper. Do you promise?”

“Would I do that to you, Jules?” said Fiona with a wicked grin. She was my oldest friend and the only contender for maid of honor. She was a great friend and a fantastic organizer. She’d booked a meal in a fancy restaurant and then got us VIP tickets for an exclusive club. But she also had a wicked sense of humor and a taste for the outrageous. On this occasion, Fiona’s promise didn’t mean much.

On the night itself, I chose to wear a midnight-blue baby doll dress that matched the color of my eyes and the sapphire in my engagement ring. It also showed far too much cleavage and thigh, but I’d been working out for my wedding, and I wanted to show off my newly buff body.

“You look gorgeous,” said Danny, my fiancé, as I twirled before the mirror while I waited for ride. “A bit too gorgeous! I hope you’ll stop dressing like that once you’re a wife. This is your last big night. Don’t go talking to any strange men, now.”

“Please,” I giggled, as he pulled me into his arms, stroked my long brown hair, which fell in waves over my shoulders. “It’s a gang of twenty drunken women. We’ll be scaring men off, not attracting them!”

“You have a good time, babe,” said Danny, and then he gave me a long, lingering kiss that was only interrupted by the honk of the taxi’s horn. Fiona, dressed to kill in a pink dress with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination, was in a cab outside.

“You might be getting married, but I’m still looking for Mr. Right!” she giggled. We sped through the London streets before finding ourselves in the private room of a fashionable restaurant. When I stepped foot inside, my eyes swam with tears of joy. All of my closest female friends and family were gathered around the table. As I entered they rose to their feet and clapped and whistled. They’d decorated the room with pink feather boas and pictures of me on various girly holidays.

The night flew by. We ate a three-course dinner and drank our own weight in champagne. We posed for photographs and flirted with the very attractive waiters. After dinner, Fiona produced a bottle of Sambuca and twenty shot glasses.

“Just a little something to awaken the palate after that wonderful supper,” she said pouring the clear liquid into the glasses, spilling half of it in the silver tray. “Now, the best way to drink this,” she continued, brandishing a silver lighter, “is on fire.” And with that, she shot out a tiny flame across the surface of one of the glasses. An ethereal blue-purple flame danced over the top of the oily liquid. To my amazement, Fiona tipped the whole thing back and downed the shot in one gulp.