A Study in Fragrance Pt. 08

He smiled sheepishly, undressing her with his eyes, nodding slightly. "Yeah. I've done things like this before. But never with someone as...," he stopped.

"What?! As what?" She felt her competitor's edge rising up. "As inexperienced?"

The idea he was judging her spiked her adrenaline. She couldn't take it anymore, the tendril squeezing her brain, her eyes going out of focus. The priests, standing in the shadows, murmuring. His cock. Hard. In her mouth. She pulled her shirt up, exposing her breasts as she continued lifting it over her head, her hands returning to unsnap and unzip her jeans. She wanted to prove she could do whatever it took. Her need to kneel down and show them, him, how she could do it better than anyone, the fragrance feeding her arousal, overpowering her. Now naked, she tossed her clothes toward the opening behind her and navigated around the plywood to stand over the inlay.

"It's a Celtic love-knot," she said, waiting, turned away from him, imagining him staring at her backside.

"I was going to say, as ambitious as you," he said, waiting.

"Take your clothes off, please please please and get over here, before I scream."

He watched as she knelt, then whipped off his shirt, untying his boots and slipping them off. She could hear him sliding his jeans off, his breathing heavy. She didn't look at him; her eyes were on the floor in front of her. "Are you my servant?" he asked, his voice had that edge.

On her knees, she had let go of control, even though it was her fantasy. It was confusing, her arousal beginning to cloud her thinking. "In my fantasy, you're standing in front of me." She could barely get the words out above a whisper. She was doing this. She was doing this. "I..." he had positioned himself as she had imagined, but his cock wasn't hard enough yet. "I...I am your servant..." She kept her eyes on his knees, smelling him, smelling the fragrance, seeing his cock head bobbing next to her chin, rising slowly.

"Fuckkkk..." she exhaled, shaking her head, control flowing out with her breath.

"Yes. The priests are happy. They're nodding. But you know," his hand stroked her head, "there's one thing about this place." He paused. "You aren't supposed to have a name here. None of the supplicants do." He waited a breath. "Will you be able to do this without a name?"

She swallowed, aroused by his approval and surprised with how smoothly he'd gotten into it. She felt moisture damming up inside, her lips swelling. In a moment they'd peel away and she would drip. She held very still. What did he mean? "I...I don't have a name? What do they call me?"

He waited, stroking her head. "You are pussy," he said softly. "Just pussy."

OHgodddohgodohgod.

"They want to hear that you understood. That you've given up your name when you're here." His hand stroked her hair, danced across her ear.

She swallowed again, her shame entangled with her arousal, the tendril was tightening. He was doing this. He was doing this! "Okay," she breathed. "Okay. Okay. I am...pussy." Her stomach clenched and she felt a flame light up her spine. He'd reduced her to that name. That name she never used.

"Your...pussy kneels to serve your hard cock." She spoke just above a whisper, reaching up to gently stroke the base of his shaft, watching it stiffen and rise up. She leaned in and kissed his balls, gently pulling them into her mouth, one at a time, like she'd seen on so many sites. His smell, sweat and musk so intense, too intense, but she was doing this. She let her hands drop down to her thighs, just using her mouth, turning to look up at him, watching him watch her as she sucked first one and then another, his sac dropping down. Letting it drop, she leaned back, staring as the shaft stood up and out, still not completely hard.

She slipped her lips over his crown, her tongue pushing against the hole, tasting his salt and maybe some pee. Oh fuck, I just swallowed some of his pee. But the thought only thickened the tendril, extending it, wrapping it around her mind, dragging her rational thought under the waves of her arousal.

And then she moved down, her forehead pushing against his abs, his cock sliding to the roof of her mouth. She knew she wouldn't deep throat him this way. She'd known that all along. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to do that again, but in her fantasy she was simply serving him, serving his cock with her mouth. She rolled back up, feeling him stiffen now, watching he blood pump in his veins. And now you're nothing but a pussy serving his cock.

He moaned, his hands coming to her temples.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck! She struggled with the reality of what she was doing, of how he was responding, compared to what she had imagined. In her fantasy she was in control, somehow, even as she was on her knees, even as her words suggested the exact opposite. But she had lost all control and now, now with just the touch of his hands, he had taken full control. Her fantasy was about serving, not controlling. I am a pussy serving his cock.

The realization tipped her arousal over an edge, the waterfall, she couldn't stop. She kissed his shaft, nuzzled her nose into his pubic hair, but kept her hands on her thighs. She had to follow through on her version of the fantasy. It was hers, but he had taken it to another level and it lit her up. "Your cock," she whispered, "the priests told me only my mouth can take in your cock. Nothing else. They said my..." she paused, another edge she was falling over, "...pussy's not worthy for your penis." She heard him groan as her lips went back up and over, her mouth sucking tight to press her wet cheeks all along him, his crown pushed into the meaty flesh of her tongue. She was swimming in humiliation, taking his suggestion and making it her own. Becoming nothing but a pussy. A pussy. A pussy. With each heartbeat, the tendril pulsed, thickening from her core up her spine to lengthen and tighten around her brain.

His hands reached to the back of her head to hold her, gently moving her back and forth against him. "Yes." He gasped. "Pussy. The priests are watching. Thank you for serving me so well. You are so young, so inexperienced, but you are doing so well. They are watching us, judging me, how well I have trained you. Nodding, at your raw talent, how quickly you have learned." He held her head still as his cock began to jerk.

She felt his crown grow and knew he was close. She gently slipped her tongue underneath, its tip sliding along the shaft and that was all it took. He pushed against her, cried out and his cock jerked in her mouth, his semen shooting against her palate, bitter and salty. She tried to swallow but his cock was in the way, and he kept shooting, his hands holding her head prisoner. She stayed still, letting him climax and remembered the video where the woman presented his seed back to her man. She held as much as she could, mixing it with her saliva, his cock shrinking, her lips keeping a tight seal, until she pulled off and rolled her head back, opening her mouth to show him.

He stared at her, looking at him, over her uplifted nose, her mouth filled with a swirl of white cream and spit, her tongue moving to keep from choking, until she grunted and swallowed it all, her eyes closed, her lips tight.

"Fucking hell," he exhaled, shaking his head. His breath was ragged; she could hear him struggling to talk.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "for letting this unworthy pussy be your virgin supplicant. Letting me pray to your cock." She couldn't believe the words she was saying, but at the same time she noticed the tendril collapse, falling into her gut, only its tip still slightly erect. She stayed on her knees, her eyes tracking him. "I fucking loved that," she said almost too quiet for him to hear. "I...you..." She didn't know how to tell him how much she loved how he had gone with her fantasy, added to it. "The...the priests...you...pussy..." She raised her eyebrows wondering how he could have known.

He nodded, smiling, his hands softly stroking her temples. "That was amazing, pussy." He paused, his eyes apologizing, searching. "There's just one last thing..."

"What?" She'd never seen him look at her this way. Her mind was on fire.

He moved his hand, his fingers resting on her nipple.

"No," she whispered. "What? No." But she nodded, certain what he would do, frightened by what he might do, confused by wanting him to do it. She made a noise, a whine of disappointment, expectation, need.

He slowly pressed his finger and thumb together and she moaned, lifting her breast to offer him her nipple, closing her eyes, imagining the ceremony still going on.

"The priests are pleased, pussy. Tell me how much you want me to squeeze you." He pinched his fingers a little tighter, watching the tip of her nipple push through the gap.

"Fucckkkk! Oh fuck! Ohfuckohfuckohfuck that feels so good Cos. Feels so good! Yes. Please please please please owwwwwwwwww ohhhfuckohfuck. Your pussy...your pussy...your pussy. Thank you thank you." She had completely lost it. Her disgust at using the word about her vagina exploded in the humiliation of using it for her, the pain/pleasure of his fingers shooting from the tip of one breast, down into her core. She moaned when he let her go, the pleasure flowing back, her heart throbbing in the tip.

She heard him back away and assumed he was putting his clothes on. She leaned forward, lying in a ball letting the feelings wash through her, wondering how she could have ever let things get this far. Just the tiniest regret, but 99% amazing. Amazing that he would follow her on her fantasy. Build on it. Take her past her comfort zone. She hated that word. Hate it! But when he made her say it, she just wanted to shout it. why why why?

She slowly unfolded, looking around, seeing him measuring the opening into her closet as if what they'd just done was all normal. Just part of the pussy's training. She clenched, the arousal burning. She felt uneven, the pain/pleasure from one nipple still reverberating, the other empty, vacant, needy. "I gotta get a water, Cos." She barely whispered, rising to her feet. "You need anything?" He nodded, looking back at her, his expression, dark, predatory. The tendril blazed green-white from its flower pot, her gut.

"I want to hang the door and prime the plywood," he said from across the room when she came back. "And now that you've got the conditioner down, we can put a coat or two of stain on."

She had recovered, mostly. The water had washed down most, but not all of the taste Her body was on fire, her gut filled by the tendril. She half expected to see robed figures standing in the shadows. She laughed a little, worried about her sanity. Worried about what Abby had done to her.

"...same routine, basically." He just kept talking. "But it should go a little faster. You'll only be able to put on one coat today. It should dry overnight. Another coat tomorrow sometime in the morning and then by this time tomorrow you could probably put a sealant on. Oh." He stopped. "I want you to look at the molding samples; you can pick that up tomorrow."

"It's got to be the smell," she interrupted him, hugging herself, the water cool against her ribs, her one nipple sensitive under her wrist.

"What?"

"The aroma. There's something in the aroma."

"The smell?" He looked at her totally confused. "From the conditioner?"

"What!? The smell!" She waved her hands around. "You mentioned it the first day we opened the room -- you said -- be careful, it could be organics or aromatics or something." She looked at him. "You don't smell it now?"

He sniffed, shaking his head. "I don't smell much beyond the wood conditioner and your pussy juices. But people say I have a terrible sense of smell."

Noooooo. That can't be right! Her lips turned up in disgust at how crude he could be. "Okay," she felt defeated, like she couldn't get traction on even the simplest explanation. Except, Caroline had smelled it. There definitely was a smell.

"Wait. You still thinking about why you're..." He waved his hands around. "You think a smell is making you act like this?" He wasn't even trying to hide his disbelief. "I dunno..."

"Okay, Cos," her tone irritated. She was recovering enough to feel a little pissed at his attitude. "It's okay when I'm being frisky and all over you, or..." She couldn't put into words what she'd just done, but she saw he got it. "But you won't cut me any slack when I'm trying to figure it out. You think you're some love god or something? Like, maybe all of this is because of you?"

He hadn't expected the shift in emotion, and he backed up, hands up. "Hey! What's going on? You're amazing! When did I ever say this was about me? I'm not taking credit for that!" He waved to the inlay.

Now she was getting really riled up. "And here we are. Back to the slut-shaming? I'm trying to have a conversation with you, Cos. Can you imagine, just for a second, that I'm a little worried about what's going on here? I'm a fucking virgin, Cos! I need you to actually believe me when I say I've never done any of the stuff we've been doing. Doesn't that make you at all concerned?" She paused for a breath. "I'm getting pretty fucking concerned."

He scrunched his face, dipping his head for a second, surprised. "Okay. Hold on. Hold on. Seriously. Take a breath." He set down the brushes and waited while she got herself under control. "Maybe we shouldn't get back to work quite yet. What we did just now? That was amazing. I don't want you worrying about that. I want you to remember it as one of the best blow jobs I've ever had. Seriously. You did something amazing there. You want to take a break outside, talk about it? Then maybe come back and do a little work?"

She nodded, following him down the back stairs, grabbing two glasses and the iced tea from the kitchen. They sat under the overhang, the breeze moving the cottonwoods, their seeds starting to create a snowstorm.

"So, how many virgins have you been with?"

"That's what you want to talk about?"

Oh fuck. He won't stop. "Cos! Don't change the subject. How many?"

He took a drink and looked out over the yard. "Three. Or so they said. Emily," he turned to her, "it's not all that..."

"That's not my point. I'm not worried about me. It's obvious I'm going for it, right?" She waved upstairs and shivered a little at how keyed up she still was. "Obs have been." Since I first saw you. She looked at him, eyes bright, reflecting the sunlight. "They any good?"

He grunted, looking at her, buck naked and not concerned she was wide open, her breasts staring back at him. "Really? I didn't think chicks compared notes."

She laughed. She had no idea what chicks did. "You're still not getting it. How's it been for you so far? Good? Unusually good?" She saw the lightbulb finally go off.

"Oh." He looked at her again, his expression finally shifting.

"Yeah. Like that. You feeling particularly manful with me? You maybe open to letting me do things to you you wouldn't do on the first date?" She knew he knew what she was talking about now.

He scrunched his lips a little and looked away. Tread carefully here buddy-boy. "What can I say? You're fucking hot. You're the hottest girl...sorry...young woman I've ever had...shit...been with." He looked back.

"All I'm trying to figure out is why." But hearing him talk about how good it was for him only melted her. "You're the guy with the experience, so please help me here. I can't figure out why we just clicked, somehow that just seems...lucky."

"Sure," he said, thinking some more. "Why can't it just be chemistry?"

"That's it!" She stopped him. "Chemistry! Exactly what I'm thinking...oh..." She stopped and smiled at how stupid she was being. "Sorry, not what you meant." She took a drink to collect her thoughts. He looked over at her and she saw something different in his eyes than she'd seen before. Was he falling for her?

"If this is getting too much for you..." He nodded upstairs. "It's supposed to be fun."

"Type 1.5 fun," she muttered.

"What?"

"I'm in a triathlon. I thought it would be fun. It's probably going to be Type 2 -- not fun while I'm doing it, but definitely fun after I look back. That," she looked upstairs, "that was on the border of Type 2. It was not feeling fun while you were pinching my nipple...or when you spank me...or the deep throating," she felt herself shiver at the memories, "but now I'm thinking about it differently."

He nodded, seeing she still had something on her mind.

"But just hold on a sec, K?" She felt her self-confidence returning now that they were out of the room, the fresh air ventilating her head. She looked at him until he acknowledged her. "I'm not talking about my sex fantasy. Why can't the smell have something to do with the way we're behaving? Yes, we."

He kept his mouth shut, not sure what she was referring to specifically.

"Like this 'pussy' shit." She shivered again at how much it had turned her on, but now only felt degrading. "You don't do that with all the girls, right?"

He pressed his lips together, quiet.

But she still couldn't explain what happened with Caroline. She could see he wasn't going to be the guy to help her figure this out.

After too long, he broke the silence, looking at his watch. "It's a little after 2. We got a lot of time if you want to get back to work."

She curled the corners of her mouth and nodded.

"Oh. Wait. The moldings. Let me grab those and I'll meet you back there."

He sprinted out to the truck while she made her way upstairs, looking at the room warily, trying to figure out Abby's secret. The fragrance wasn't cloying; it didn't feel dangerous and she didn't tire of smelling it. She couldn't place the aroma: it was definitely flowery, but not like a rose, herbal, but with a tang, and it had a hint of forest, a freshness. She couldn't begin to describe it, looking at the floor, the inlay pattern triggering what she'd just done. Celtic love knot. Covering all the bases, Abby?

"Here," Cos reached out and handed her a ring with a dozen pieces of wood hanging from it. "That's the stuff they carry in stock. They've got a warehouse with a full catalog, but I bet we'll find something that'll work off of that."

She had no idea what to make of any of them and let him know.

"Well, to cover the seams in the closet, you could go pretty flat -- maybe even an eased profile like that one." He pulled out a plain rectangular piece of wood. "Or that round job -- it's not too much and will give it a little punch. And maybe along the top, a picture molding." He pointed to one that had more complexity. He shrugged. "Or not. I'm not sure anyone would put picture molding in a closet. For the bookcase, I'm thinking you'll want a crown on the top piece, but a simple round to finish off the face would probably do it."

She just let him go on, not really knowing what any of it might look like. "I don't want it to be too much. Especially in my closet. A simple thing to hide the seams. Whatever's easiest. And for the bookcase, I trust your judgment."

"'K..."

She couldn't let go of her concerns about the fragrance. What if it is because of that smell? What would happen when her parents came back? The thought she had let loose some kind of hazardous material in her home that made people sex-crazed monsters just started the buzzsaw of anxiety spinning. She hoped Caroline was going to be okay.

"Hey. You okay?"

She nodded, realizing she was standing nude with Cos in The Study, her vagina calmer but only barely, her nipples hard, standing at attention, the one still pulsing from what he'd done. Only a half hour prior she had offered herself to him and he had riled her up. This couldn't be usual. Even though she'd told him something different, if she wasn't so turned on by it, she'd be scared. "Cos?" The look she gave him: don't treat me like a little kid. "Tell me again that this isn't something people do...you do...all the time. That this isn't run-of-the-mill sex."