A Study in Fragrance Pt. 09

"Exactly. Like that. The priests are taking note. They look pleased. They've given me a complement." He waited until she had recovered slightly, still holding her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "They want to hear more. They want you to give me more details."

She could hear the smile in his voice. She was panting, her need almost equal to her embarrassment. What the fuck did he just ask? She sat up a little, confused. "Cos," she continued, catching her breath. "You like to see me shoving my fingers in my wet...oh god he wants me to say it...pussy...she hated the word...fuckkkk...my...pussy is so wet right now, you could drink from it I need to cum so much. You want to suck the juices out of my hot wet...cunt." She swallowed, her stomach cramping at her use of the word, at how demeaning she sounded, the tendril not letting go. She was doing it, whatever he asked of her. She stared into his eyes. "I could cum just saying it. Is that what you want?"

He stared into her eyes, his expression gentle, the smile still on his lips, nodding slightly. "No. Yeah. You can't cum and that was exactly what they wanted to hear. Like that." He pushed her hand against his zipper, against his growing erection, and leaned down, taking her head gently with his other hand and kissed her, insistent, firm, his tongue pushing into her mouth.

Oh my god oh shit oh shit. It felt like liquid heaven pouring through her, from his lips through her lips down her chest, through her nipples into her stomach, still cramped, to her insides, to her channel and the liquid she could feel dripping out of her. Both lips, top and bottom were burning.

He pulled away, letting her hand drop from his jeans. "I'll see you tomorrow. You can do the sealant. Outside for that. I'll show you how. You can finish any sanding you didn't get to today beforehand. We're getting close. No playing with yourself."

She sat in shock, feeling the ruined orgasm pulsing inside her, lighting up her nerve endings. She looked down, concerned she was dripping onto the floor, concerned she'd made a fool of herself; she pulled her legs off the seat corners, needing him to go, wishing he'd stay.

"See you tomorrow..." He saw how confused she was. So perfect.

She wanted to kiss him again, to hear him say he would stay, would help her over the edge, but he'd been clear. She'd performed for him. She'd given into his fantasy, her fantasy. She saw the ritual again, the cloak, the candles. Fuckkkkk!

She had hit the wall. After he'd gone and she closed up the house she realized she was wasted. The training. His training. The sanding. The way her body ramped up the minute she stepped into the house. The smell from The Study seemed to be everywhere. It was intoxicating. It was an orchid garden in a Victorian hothouse.

As she lay on her bed, she imagined Abby raising orchids, The Study suddenly a glass enclosed greenhouse. All around her were her friends, Abby's friends, posing while she painted them. Nude, five, six, eight young woman, all sitting for their portrait, flowers between their legs. Emily studied them. Flowers instead of vaginas. Not just covering them, in place of them. Abby whispered she should kneel and smell them and Emily felt herself pressing her nose into the petals, inhaling the perfume, her own flower letting down its nectar.

She woke up shaking and realized she'd cum. From a dream! Oh my fucking god! Her shorts were soaked. The release felt wonderful, and then the realization she'd cum; an inrush of anxiety. She couldn't keep from climaxing! But how could he know? She hadn't really done it...She shifted her mind to focus on something else, but the sheets between her legs were soaked, the smell from her juices wafting up. The spot was cold, and she couldn't get back to sleep. She stripped off her shorts, tossing them out of the room, grabbed a towel from the linen closet, laid it down and crawled back under the covers, wondering what the fuck she was going to say when he asked her.