The Journey of Jezebel Ch. 01

"Yes," she hissed and he pushed one finger into her pussy.

"Good girl," he told her as he curled the digit and stroked the front of her inner lips, "you wore no panties." He stroked her pussy, all the while he told her that he was proud of her, that she had done well and that she had known all along what he had wanted, and he hadn't even had to tell her.

Jezebel hissed through clenched teeth as her sex grew moist and hot. Instinctively she clenched down on his finger, humped him with quick, thrusts and tried to not make a sound.

"You can whimper pet. You can gasp, moan, whimper and even cry out. No one will think less of you," he fucked her, adding another finger, "They will envy you. The women will want to be you, the men will want to slay me so they can fuck you. Come Jezebel, let yourself be heard." He shoved a third finger into her and bit down on her shoulder. He sucked on the flesh, twisted his thick digits one way then the other, scrapped the inner walls of her pussy with his nails and heard her gasp seconds before her liquid silk coated his fingers and palm.

It was a soft sound, but it was a sound, a sound she made in public. Jezebel shook again as he continued to stroke her. She heard him whisper her name, congratulate her for her come and then promise her to reward her. When he pulled his fingers from her sex, she looked down at his hand and saw the sticky fluid. The attendant appeared, laying their main courses in front of them. Steven waved him away when he asked if they needed anything else. Jezebel said nothing, still entranced in all that had happened. He looked at her gaze, brought his fingers up and offered them to her. "Clean up your mess, pet."

She whimpered; her nostrils flared and she devoured his fingers. Samuel's cock strained as her mouth took in the three digits. His shaft flexed. He fought the urge to force the beautiful woman to her knees and shove her face into his crotch. To make her undress him and suck him till he coated her throat with his seed.

Jezebel blinked at the clean fingers that were now cutting into a bloody steak. She had come. Yes, that was not a surprise to her. She'd come many times. In the beginning of her porn career, she'd come, but it was after several takes that she'd stopped. That had become a chore, a job, an annoyance of no pleasure for her. She was a vessel. She had come with her toys. That however had always left her only partially satisfied, lonely and even a bit depressed. Past lovers had made her come, those for the most part had been thrilling, but again, she had always felt as if something were missing. This man... this strange man had made her come harder than she had ever come before. Was it because it was a public place? Was it because she knew nothing about him? Or was it because he had become tuned to her needs the moment he saw her?

"Your chicken is growing cold and it's rude to stare, pet."

She blushed. "I'm sorry," she answered.

Samuel nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he eyed her with a stern look and added, "Sir."

"Oh fuck," she whimpered under her breath. How had that last word struck her soul with power. Sir. She didn't need to ask him what he meant. She knew it. She hadn't needed to be told. In her earlier days she had played a slave for some harem sheik in a movie for some no name director. He was Master though, a role in a story. This... this was real and the knowledge of it made her instantly slick with fresh juice.

"Eat your supper, pet," Samuel told her, pushing her plate closer.

"Yes, Sir." She glanced and saw his smile and knew that once again, she'd done well. The meal continued in companionable silence. As Jezebel finished the last bite she hungered for she glanced at Samuel. "When do I get to learn about you?" she asked.

Samuel shrugged his shoulders. "Have I told you that you can't ask questions?"

She blushed. "No." He waited in silence to see where she was going to take their desert conversation, now that two plates of some delicate, yet sweet looking confection rested in front of them. "What do you do as far as what business are you in?"

"I'm CEO of Coughlin Industries. A relatively new business, only five years old."

"What do you do?"

"We buy out companies that are going under, restructure them if we can and then sell them for a profit."

"And what do you do when you aren't CEO?"

He smirked. "You mean for pleasure?"

She felt her blush and looked down at the cuff. "I do believe I'm learning..."

He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up and looked intently into her eyes. "You will learn many things, if you trust me."

A part of her rebelled at how fast all of this was moving. It seemed unreal, as if she were some character locked in an erotic story, but that wasn't the case. She sat next to a man she'd just met, wearing one half of a steel handcuff and she'd just covered his fingers in come and washed them with her mouth. "I do," she laughed softly, the sound betraying the slight uneasiness she wanted to conquer.

"Finish your dessert and I'll arrange for your car to be taken home."

Jezebel watched him rise from the table and walk away. She had no doubt that he would do as he said. Her car would be safe in the hands of whomever took it home, simply because Samuel Coughlin would insist on it. She mindlessly ate the sweet cake covered in caramel icing. Her hand moved against her stomach; she pressed the palm firmly against the fluttering feeling. When Samuel returned Jezebel was still full of anticipation, but knew this night would be the beginning of a very special journey.