tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBarter Me This

Barter Me This

byEtaski©

Author's Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2010

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"So now, as an infallible way of making little ease great ease, I began to contract a quantity of debt—"

"Are you available?"

She'd been trying to read Dickens in the library, trying anything to better her mind and she'd heard he was good, when the man spoke to her.

It had been a while since she heard the familiar timbre of command and it immediately caused a surge of tension and want within her chest. As she had been left to pace the opulent mansion for three days now, it seemed he'd been ignoring her, gone or otherwise busy with his business.

The business she had helped him build.

He had an old-fashioned library among the many rooms here. Even though she knew most of the books were there just for show—just so his clients could look in awe at the matching hardcover set, dark shelves, and clean lines of his study wrapped around large, expensive oak furniture— the very thought of herself reading and knowing one of his books better than he did was satisfying.

It was something, anyhow. Something that meant she still had a mind of her own. So she told herself.

But then he'd say something to her and break her concentration almost immediately.

"Andrea, are you available?" he asked again more slowly as if she hadn't understood him the first time, hazel-green eyes clearly mocking her though his tanned face was irritatingly neutral. He was holding a squat glass of amber liquid on the rocks in one hand; he was missing his suit coat, but still wore his fine linen shirt, wine red tie, dark grey slacks and polished dress shoes.

He cut a fine figure. They both knew the true answer to his question: she was always available.

She closed the book, along with her expectations for finishing it, and set it down on the coffee table. She smiled at him and stood up, smoothing the China blue satin dress that fit close to her torso and trim waist, hugging womanly hips and thighs and ending in a small flare at her knees.

"Yes, always," she replied, and still it caused that small tick in her jaw, that slight waver to her smile, to have to say it out loud. "What do you need?"

He pointed casually to a spot on the rug; it was a stylized sunburst amid Arabic geometric designs, and in a central spot right in front of his big, oak desk, surrounded by ornate lamps, a writing table, and a few interview chairs facing the desk. She obediently walked to the spot in strap-back heels that matched the blue of her dress, her posture of that intangible, elegant quality, as if she'd gone through finishing school.

Andrea waited until he'd loosened his tie, glanced at her, then chin-nodded a bit impatiently for her to kneel down before she did. The carpet was plush beneath her knees, which was one small favor, and she fidgeted briefly with her tight dress again, trying to keep it smooth and in good order after getting down in front of him.

Her dress had sleeves that held only tentatively to her shoulders, revealing an appealing expanse of pale, smooth skin, and a lot of cleavage. He always smiled looking down at her breasts, lifted and pressed together; sometimes he slipped a single finger down between them, rubbing gently in and out in a playful hint of what was to come.

He didn't do that tonight; he took a breath and ran a hand through short, very dark brown hair before letting it out. He looked kind of tired. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

She swallowed, noticed her mouth was already salivating, and reached to loosen his two-hundred-dollar belt, unclasping and lowering the zipper on even more expensive, grey dress slacks. The fact that he was wearing a pair of navy-colored, men's bikini briefs didn't surprise her. She could already see the well-groomed trail of dark hair leading beneath the low-slung fabric. They fit very well and the elastic band didn't resist too much as she pulled them down with one hand, carefully withdrawing both his semi-erect cock and his scrotum as well.

Her bare hand touching him caused faster swelling and he breathed out quietly, seeming to being to relax. She heard a soft slurp as he took a drink of cognac and he touched her black hair encouragingly as she jerked him once, twice, then parted her lightly painted lips to take him deep into her mouth.

He sighed louder, his buttocks flexing as he pushed in far as he could go, as she started suckling him. "Always the good sword-swallower, eh, Andrea? You remember the first time you went down on me?"

She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to remember. He hadn't even opened his own pants back then...she had. Why had she thought acquiescing to do it then would have spared her more of this humiliation in the future?

He'd certainly proven her wrong on that, systematically pushing her boundaries further and further over several months until she had lifted her shirt and lowered her panties for him, until she had felt him tear her hymen and felt his semen dripping out of her after he was done. Even later she had found herself on all fours in his father's place, him balls-deep and reaming out her asshole as she became a pillow-biter.

He kept pushing and taking everything, one by one, because she'd felt she had no choice but to let him.

Well...she truly had no choice, now, unless she wanted to go to jail right along with him if she didn't help protect them.

Wet slurps and sucks and a squelching noise accompanied her work as he moaned softly, a different kind of tension quivering along his frame as he had to lean back against his desk. He was close...

There was a knock on the door.

"Fuck," he hissed quietly, immediately irritated and reached to grab the back of her neck to hold her mouth on him in case she'd been about to pull off. "Goddammit..."

He set down his cognac.

"What is it?" he asked with raised voice.

"It's Mr. Garrity, boss," said a brusque, podgy voice through the thick wooden door. "He came back to talk business."

"We talked business earlier, he wouldn't commit," the boss replied with his brows drawn down. "Tell him I'm busy."

"Mr. Tanner," said a different voice she'd never heard before; he sounded just a little like that talking mouse in California, if the character actually had a set of balls. "I apologize for putting you off, I needed to confirm. I have an offer to make before my client sends me to the other side of the country tomorrow. I think it would benefit you to hear me out."

Andrea looked up at Patrick Tanner, his cock still stuffed in her mouth and he looked down into her light blue eyes. Suddenly he seemed in a much better mood as he grinned and touched her jaw.

"Whatever happens, don't stop, just go slow and don't make me cum," he ordered, and she blinked at him to show she understood. He lifted his chin and said loudly, "Alright, come on in."

The door opened and Mr. Garrity was let in, the door closing behind him. He was a shorter man with a receding hairline and pudgy face and a bit of a belly beneath his non-descript tan suit. He didn't look especially ugly, just ordinary. Patrick had to admit that the guy was perfect for his job, as he was overall a very forgettable face acting as liaison between his employer and other powerful men in the underground.

Mr. Garrity quickly took in the sight of the raven-haired woman in blue orally servicing Mr. Tanner by his desk and stopped where he was, going quiet. He looked at the younger man's expression and wasn't surprised to see a bit of a smirk there. This actually wasn't a first for him to run into a scene like this. Arrogant, cocky men with some power often loved to show him just how much they had at their disposal, and what he didn't have.

But it was no less delicate this time than any other time. Being an experienced negotiator, Mr. Garrity often just had to determine just what it was the other man wanted in his reaction, and give it to him. Then negotiations could begin with the rich man in a good mood.

Clearing his throat, he began, "Mr. Tanner, I apologize if—"

Patrick waved his hand. "Please have a seat, Mr. Garrity. I'm willing to....hear your offer."

The middleman wisely ignored the catch in the younger man's voice, although his ordinary brown eyes did admire woman's lovely backside, wrapped in shiny blue satin like a gift beneath a tree. She must be skilled to make Mr. Tanner's voice break, he thought.

"My employer...ah...." He forced himself to look up at the businessman. "He authorized me to offer sixty percent above my initial figure, Mr. Tanner."

Patrick's hazel eyes were bright with the sensations sweeping him as Andrea continued slowly blowing him, and he looked intensely at Mr. Garrity, careful not to nod his head. He really wasn't in the mood to talk shop quite yet. Soon, but not yet.

He wanted Andrea to continue to earn her keep. "It's a starting point," he conceded, and Mr. Garrity looked conservatively brightened. He kept watching the man's doughy face as he asked, "Do you like her, Mr. Garrity? Does she not have a fine ass?"

The gopher looked startled for a moment. "Uh, Mr. Tanner—?"

"Be truthful," he insisted. "I would want to expect honesty from any negotiator."

Studying the younger man's face, Mr. Garrity saw no sign of a trap in answering in the affirmative...only lust. A small trickle of excitement started seeping through his gut at the thought that perhaps Mr. Tanner was one of those men who liked to share...?

Occasionally, this job did pay some dividends.

"She is exquisite, Mr. Tanner," the middleman admitted truthfully. "You are a very luck man."

Patrick Tanner grinned very broadly. "As is any man with the means to pay for her time. I look forward to working with your employer, provided we can find...mutual interests."

The squat man nodded a bit eagerly. "Yes, of course."

"Andrea, lift your dress," Patrick commanded softly. "Show this man what you have to offer."

Silently she reached back with both hands, mouth still holding to his prick like a calf to a teat. The elegant jewelry on her fingers and wrists glittered white and silver as she tugged the form-fitting skirt upward. Her thighs were pale and smooth, toned and lovely. Mr. Garrity nearly choked on his own saliva, however, when she revealed her undergarments, settling the blue fabric up over her haunches to rest at the small of her back.

It was not at all what he'd expected...it was not a piece of thread that barely covered her anus, or a blood-red thong, or even black leather...

Just white panties. But such white panties they were...! Silk and nearly see-through and teasing him with delicate whorls of lace and partially obscured the exact shape and grooming of her sex while the cleft of her ass seemed hidden in shadow and mystery. He swore he could see flushed, reddened flesh beneath, though, pressing against that innocent fabric. He hoped to see just a dot of a damp spot as well... Especially if she was aroused, he wanted to smell her through those panties...explore her every crease, feel her anus fluttering as his tongue wetted that silky fabric to make it *completely* see-through, before he would rip them down around her thighs and...

Oh, Lord. By sheer luck, this woman in blue was wearing his Kryptonite.

Mr. Garrity knew his face was notably flushed; his heart had started to pound as he looked too closely at the woman's panty-clad backside. By the time he wrenched his gaze away from her to look up at Patrick Tanner, the man was grinning so smugly that Garrity knew there was no point pretending.

"Are you...offering me anything, Mr. Tanner?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Garrity. What do you want to be offered?"

The visitor licked his dry lips and tried again. "I am not a man of great means, as you know. Is there anything I can do for you, personally, that would ..."

Both men looked at Andrea and her ass, presented perfectly for Mr. Garrity. For Andrea, she was looking up at Patrick with a flushed face herself. But he knew her well enough to know she was angry and nervous. She hadn't even seen the face of the man behind her, knew only his name and his voice, and Patrick was making a deal to see her mounted for his own benefit and gain.

The telling part was that she still kept her mouth on his cock, and her white panties exposed to Mr. Garrity.

"There is, as a matter of fact," Patrick replied, breaking his gaze with Andrea as he finished bargaining. "It's nothing much. I'd just like to be kept appraised of your employer's travels for the next six months. That's all. Just six months. Only when he moves, and to where."

The pudgy man flushed a bit more darkly. "I'll not do anything to set up an assassination, Mr. Tanner—"

"I resent the accusation, Mr. Garrity," Patrick interrupted bluntly. "It's dangerous to insult me."

Mr. Garrity quieted.

"In any case," the man continued, reaching to sip his cognac again, "it's business, not hostility of any sort. You know the saying of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, right?"

He got a nod in return.

"Well. Then that's all. Keeping friends close. If you would know what it's like to bury your face between my woman's legs, Mr. Garrity, then I would know a little about your employer in return. It's a simple exchange of information. Note I'm not insisting on knowing the 'why' of his ventures, just the when and where. And it's worthwhile...this one is my favorite for a reason. You've been a dependable representative for a year now, Mr. Garrity. I want to show my appreciation."

Mr. Garrity was very nervous for a few long moments, but obviously thinking it over.

"Mr. Garrity, this is Andrea," Patrick added, and Andrea, bless her, slowly started swaying her hips as she moaned softly around Patrick's cock. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

The pudgy man was sweating a bit now and he blinked; apparently he had heard the name before in the house, and now looked like he at least believed he was being offered something special.

"And what exactly do I receive for those six months?" the negotiator asked, and Patrick smiled as he reached for one of the condoms in a close-by cubby on his desk.

"First...anything you want to do to Andrea here and now, as long as she stays in her current position and you use this," he tossed him the condom, "and she is not permanently marked. Then...your choice of companion—excluding Andrea—each time you come here to report to me. Nothing will be denied you, as long as they are not maimed or killed. Agreed?"

Mr. Garrity felt his heart pounding quite hard now, looking at the condom in his hand. For all his current employer's generosity...women was not among them, for they were not his personal preference, though that was a kept secret. And he himself was often too busy traveling to do more than hire a convenient prostitute in whatever city he happened to be in for a few hours.

He also knew the quality of Mr. Tanner's stock, and he could have his choice each time...?

"Agreed," he affirmed.

Patrick switched his cognac from one had to the other to extend his right hand out. Mr. Garrity stood up and closed the slight distance between them to shake Mr. Tanner's hand, then waited, glancing down at the top of Andrea's head. The younger man chuckled and waved his hand in invitation.

Andrea could hear the man's deep, excited breathing behind her as the heavier man knelt down. She waited to be touched but was surprised when that first touch was a flat, heavy palm on the small of her back, as if he was bracing himself. This was followed by hot breath and a probing finger against her crotch as he gingerly played with the elastic of her panties.

"Oh...yes," he whispered, barely lifting the left side of the crotch away from her skin, "so lovely. Such a pretty, dirty girl..."

*He's...is he peeking?* Andrea thought, distractedly swirling her tongue around Patrick's erection. She wasn't focused and doing a very good job on him, but Patrick seemed content to just watch this play out.

The hot puffs of air from negotiator's nose went right through the thin material to her tenderest skin as his tongue tentatively flicked against her inner thigh. He muttered more to himself, inhaling deeply the scent of her crotch and groaning. He reached to loosen his belt and undo his pants to give his straining erection more room to expand. Then he started licking the gusset of her panties, sucking on her sex through them, probing and nudging every plane with his tongue just as he'd fantasized at first seeing her lift her dress.

Patrick was watching intently, noting the expressions that passed across Andrea's face as the panty-sniffer slobbered all over her. As always, she was struggling with her arousal, her anxiety, and her shame....and the subtle loathing she still reserved for him after all these years. The fact that she still wasn't totally resigned, that she still had the ability to feel reluctance and disgust at what he made her do was exactly why she was still his favorite.

His first, whose virginity he'd taken... and still his favorite.

Andrea's mouth opened around his cock as she gasped at something that Mr. Garrity had done between her legs, and Patrick at to glance up from her beautiful face again. The angle wasn't the best, but he could see his new informant had finally pulled her panties aside enough to expose the crack of her ass and he was dining heartily between her buttocks. The man had turned his head almost upside down so his nose was buried closer to her clit and Patrick could see his reddened throat and chin working as he licked and sucked. Garrity's free hand was either teasing her clit or her cunt...Patrick couldn't decide which he wanted it to be.

His slut flinched and gasped again, her wide, blue eyes stared up at him, and Patrick chuckled, finally pulling his meat out of her soft, wet mouth, extricating himself to step aside. Andrea looked distressed, as if she didn't want him to leave the room, to leave her alone with Mr. Garrity—who seemed to be really working himself up into a frenzy as he repeated what a dirty girl she was and seemed to be trying to worship her white panties as he pawed and pulled at them. They were soaked all along her crotch and were very transparent by now.

Patrick settled himself into one of the lounge chairs, turning it slightly to face the action, and stroked himself slowly, watching with an smug quirk to his mouth.

She relaxed a little seeing he wasn't going to abandon her, and reset her knees to balance herself a little better, bracing herself again the desk in front of her instead of Patrick's hips as she had been before.

Then Garrity spanked her once, hard, and she yelped loudly. Patrick felt his own cock harden with the sounds.

"Naughty, naughty girl," he mumbled. "Only look like a lady..."

He spanked the other cheek and she cried out again. Patrick could see two partial red handprints starting to appear on her ass, only half-exposed thanks to her underwear. He got a much clearer view, however, when Mr. Garrity hooked his thumbs into the white fabric at her hips and jerked the spit-soggy panties down to her mid-thighs. He gripped and squeezed her fleshy buttocks greedily, grunting softly to himself, using his thumbs to spread and look at her cunt exposed.

Andrea was professionally groomed and waxed, with no hair anywhere except for a trim, black tuft crowning her mound. Her pussy lips her bright red, smooth and puffy, glistening with saliva from her current john.

"Goddamn," he said, hurriedly removing his tan overcoat and fully untucking his business shirt from his open pants.

As he pushed down his trousers and boxer shorts together, Patrick reminded him, "Don't forget that."

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