A Study in Fragrance Pt. 03

It was almost too cute for him, her constant flirting. Or was she? Sometimes he thought she was just being a kid, but then he'd see the glint in her eye and he realized she was fucking with him. So many things she'll be doing. So soon. "You know how to take measurements?"

She shrugged. "Probably not. I've got no experience here."

So you've said. He could almost feel how tight her pussy was going to be. He put the image aside. "Okay. Let's start inside here." He paused. "And go ahead and get undressed. You've been itching to get naked since you put them on." He pressed his lips together, judgy. He looked away. "Maybe your cheeks will be better off."

And, so we begin. She smiled and shimmied out of her clothes unceremoniously, tossing them in her room. She grabbed some lotion and slathered it on her buns as she walked back. They were warm. She wondered what they looked like.

"Probably should keep your boots on, not that it does anything for me, but you need to protect your feet." He just stared at her, her long legs ending in that beautiful triangle of dark brown hair, her pussy just visible, peeking out, her breasts. Fuck those breasts. They weren't as big as he usually liked 'em, but they were near perfect on her frame. And she was all muscle. Not like a body-builder, which he thought was circus-freak-show shit. No, she could grab him, hard, and hold on. He licked his lips and focused on how he was going to trim out the hallway opening.

She was melting at the way he looked at her. He was ready to eat her, swallow her, pounce on her. It scared her it was so intense. She stood naked in front of him, watching him try to concentrate, his dick pushing against his jeans, her heart pounding. When will he let me...fuck...make me do something else? She grabbed a tape and went to the far corner, unspooling it. It was a mess in no time. She inhaled, the room's aroma enveloping her, seeping into her.

"Hah! Hold on. Not like that. Here. Hold on." He came over and took it from her, rolling it back in. "Like this. You can do this alone once you get the hang of it." He demonstrated how to get the tape to stay against the corner of the floor, pushing it until it hit the far wall. "You can just press the fold against the corner, or the casing is 3", so you can just put it down here...but lock it first." He showed her how to press the yellow slider and then gently put it against the near wall. "17'6-1/4". 1/4" is close enough. Go ahead and do all four walls. These old places are rarely square. Then go ahead and measure your closet." He hesitated. "Turn around."

She looked at his expression, the pure animal lust in his eyes. Oh no. Fuck fuck fuck. She turned to the corner and waited. His hands came down her neck, across her shoulders and then moved in front, his fingers rough on her skin. He pulled her back against him, her shoulder blades pushed into his chest hair. His fingers held her breasts as he breathed across her ear, his stubble rubbing her neck. Oh my god ohmygod ohgod. She tried to breathe normally but it was impossible: the heat, the sweat, the ever present fragrance, the lump pushing against her buns. She closed her eyes trying to stay calm. And then he was done. He gently pushed her away and turned to cross the room.

"What the fuck was that Cos?" She was confused, not mad.

He looked up. "Just claiming my territory. You're mine. I don't want you to forget it." He looked down and then back up again. "Oh, hey. Go get a pencil and a piece of paper and sketch out the room first. It's impossible to remember these numbers and draw at the same time." He paused and looked around. "Make sure you figure out where these windows are, just for good measure."

She groaned, both at how he had started treating her and at the Dad joke, grabbing paper and a pencil. Was this the way it was going to be? One second him groping her, spanking her, making her his, the next just doing the job? Her mind couldn't process it.

*-*-*-*

The day ended shortly afterward and she was shocked he didn't demand more from her. She had measured the closet and The Study, and he had given her homework to calculate how many square feet of paneling they'd need.

The heat was oppressive, but by the time he left, a cool breeze was kicking up. She was hungry but Emily made the rounds of the house opening windows before deciding what to eat. She was keyed up from the day, from what he'd done to her, from what she'd done to him. She'd checked out her ass and saw the red blotches from his hand prints. It looked like it might turn darker, but she didn't know. Thinking over everything that had happened, she felt...exposed. She'd exposed herself to him. Physically. Emotionally...and legally. Fuck. I've so fucked myself. Even though she hadn't slept well because of the storm the night before, she wasn't sleepy. Tired, hot, and a little sore from lifting, a little sore from the spanking, the thought of making dinner just made her more tired...and hot. She threw a few things in the blender and made a protein shake. The real problem was that she was so keyed up from what she'd done she couldn't focus.

She had so many questions. Why did sperm smell like that? Why did men ejaculate like that? Could she give a better hand job? What do men like? Why did he want to humiliate her? Or did he? Do women like to be humiliated? Should she like it? Did she like it? She was embarrassed and ashamed at how much the memory of being spanked turned her on. That doesn't make sense!!!! But she couldn't deny the pulse of pleasure she felt imagining what she looked like, draped over his legs, his hands slapping her cheeks, exposing her lips. And the orgasm! She couldn't deny it had been stronger than anything she'd felt before.

It didn't take long to search the interwebs and find all sorts of articles about what men wanted, how to do give good hand jobs, what else to expect (besides ejaculation), when to do it, what else to do with it...she paused and saw so many references to hand jobs combined with blow jobs that she wondered whether he had expected her to take him in her mouth. And anal. Gross! Except the thought he might want her to put her finger up his asshole made her squirm. He already said he'd be fucking her in every hole. She researched anal sex to see what to expect and how to do it without getting hurt.

And the spanking! So many articles about how women liked it, hated it but did it, were humiliated by it, just like her! And the confessions of getting off from the humiliation. She spent hours looking at different sites about safe spanking. Those led to dark places she didn't feel comfortable going, but there were plenty of Cosmo articles about it and when she'd finished, it didn't feel as weird. He had treated her exactly like the articles suggested. Respectful, safe, attending to her after-care. She shook her head at all the things she'd never known about. People are fucking crazy! But she couldn't shake the idea that maybe she was getting off on the humiliation. That felt uncomfortable. Was that who I am?

The memory of his taste came back and she scrunched her nose and mouth. How was she going to do that? It was so intense. Not terrible, but so salty and that back-of-her-nose smell that lingered. But she liked the way his skin smelled and she imagined having his dick as far into her mouth as she could get it, her nose buried in that black nest of hair.

And of course the porn sites didn't help settle her down. Hand jobs with gobs of cum flying into girls' faces, their breasts and pubic hair. Is that what he expects? It was gross, but the idea of having his cum on her only raised her up a notch. She didn't think she could initiate it, but if he made her, she would let him. That seemed to be the answer to almost everything she saw: she just didn't know what was right and what wouldn't work. And so many spanking sites. And most of those were gross, but some turned her on a little, the memory of his hand against her cheeks jolting her as she watched girls getting what she'd just gotten.

Except for the porn sites, every site she visited repeated that it was something partners should talk about. But they weren't a couple, really. And he didn't seem like the kind of guy to talk about it. And there were articles to help her on that too: ask him if he's enjoying it or wants something different, or to show her how she should hold him or what she should do to excite him more.

She couldn't believe how much there was out there once she started asking questions. She hadn't been interested until now, and she thought that was totally funny. She looked up and it was already 10PM. She had a combo day tomorrow, so she had to be at the pool, with her bike by 6AM. She wasn't close to falling asleep.

Even after her shower, she was sticky, especially between her legs. She couldn't get the image out of her mind of his cock in her hand, and how much he enjoyed it; the image of his cum jetting up and plopping down. His hair. His hair. His muscles. The sting from his hand, the embarrassment of being spread open. She pulled out the vibe for the second night in a row, a first for her, and didn't stop after the first time. Or the second. It was almost out of juice (although she wasn't, she noticed) by the third orgasm when she finally drifted off to sleep.