Corruption Ch. 01

As if he knew what he was doing, Ellison pinched her nipples and asked, "Good?"

Her eyes hazily tried to focus. "So good," she whispered.

"This is where the fun starts. Watch." He lifted her up slightly, shifting her balance to rely more on him as he thrusts in full force.

"Ah!" Max exclaimed, feeling bouts of electricity travel through her stomach, causing waves of burning pleasure all over her body.

But he didn't stop there. With a reliable speed and pacing, he fucked her to the faint beat of the EDM song she barely heard being played outside.

"See what I mean?" he panted before continuing, "Focus on the tempo. Push against me." He sounded like an expert, gently teaching her how to fuck back in beat.

She did.

Ellison groaned. She was something else. Fastest learner he's ever met. God, her untapped potential for sex was of a different magnitude than anyone he's ever been with. She started off pretty clumsy, but she quickly made progress as she lost herself in the beat and in him.

The bathroom was almost freezing cold, but their bodies were still sweating from the sex.

He noticed Max's pretty locks were starting to stick to her forehead. Ellison slowed his thrusting to a 4/4 beat before politely tucking them behind her ear. Their eyes met as a slow and silent atmosphere pervaded through them both.

He caught himself and pulled his hands away from her.

She looked like her world was being rocked. Hair all over the place, moaning out nonsensical words. The crop top finally failed as her breasts spilled out, showing how delectably bouncy they were by recoiling against his chest in correspondence to his thrusts.

Even the faint bit of makeup decorating the corners of her eyes were slightly smudged. For some reason, it made her all the more sexy.

His cock twitched at the sight of her.

"You're a fucking natural. Did you know that?" he said after a minute, breaking off the silence.

She smiled weakly, barely having any semblance of consciousness left as Ellison hit her in places she never thought possible to hit.

He groaned, feeling her tightness reduce as her wet insides became even softer to envelope his cock. It felt great in a different way, but he wanted her to enjoy this as much as he did.

"Stay with me, Max."

The following second, he pinched and pulled hard on her nipples, getting her back up again with a new round of adrenaline rush.

"Stay with me."

She moaned, eyes blurry, "That's fucking e-easier said than done. I've never had drunk sex before."

He laughed. At most, she had two Long Islands. Who gets wasted from two cocktails?

"I guess it's time to pull out the big guns then," Ellison cryptically stated.

She looked at him in confusion. As far as she's concerned, the big gun was already inside her.

"What big guns—" And just like that, she blacked out, her consciousness interrupted by....something. A sudden spark.

All she could feel were the random tremors coming from her mouth. It took her a moment to realize she was screaming. Out loud. And she couldn't even hear. The next second, she felt Ellison's hand on her lips.

"....iet."

"What?" she said, half conscious.

"Quiet," he repeated with a laugh.

Again, easier said than done. A new rush was uncontrollably surging through her body, growing more and more unbearable each second. It probably gave her enough stamina to last a few more times, she estimated. Alongside it, a new clarity in her brain. Well, as much as she could have with love hormones bombarding every inch of it.

Max asked him, "What did you do, Ellison? W-what was that? Fuck. It feels so....." Until now, she felt it on her skin. Every hair, standing in salute for the joyous discovery of new heights; of new pleasure. Was this what mankind felt when they built the Tower of Babel? No wonder God saw fit to punish them.

"You've never had your cervix fucked?" Ellison was asking, but his tone indicated he already knew the answer.

She shook her head. "They told me it hurt."

"If you do it wrong."

Craving another taste of it, she fucked him back with a newfound energy. God, she was bursting with it. The sensations were only getting better and better.

But maybe it was the angle, but she couldn't get it right. And with every failed attempt, her frustration grew.

As if he read her mind, Ellison slowed down his pace and cooed, "I can show you more if you'd like. Do you trust me?"

She stared at him. "Yeah. Weirdly enough, I trust you more than anyone right now." The brunette wasn't lying, and she didn't know why.

"That's not a lot. You're a deeply untrusting person." Max rolled her eyes at him.

Ellison smiled. "But that's enough trust for what I had in mind," he added.

He huffed, preparing himself mentally for the intricate work he was about to do, "Pay attention, all right?"

Max nodded eagerly.

He slowly placed his hand on her belly, "Breathe slower. As slow as you can."

She did.

Then without breaking eye contact—eyes extremely calm as if everything was under his control, Ellison wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him before placing his other hand on the left side of her neck, just above her collarbone—lightly putting pressure. With her whole body completely supported by the man, Max saw him look at her calmly, reassuring.

You're fine. You're in good hands. She heard him say.

Then he counted. So she counted with him. For some reason, when they reached the six-second-mark, Max started feeling drowsy—like a mist had unwittingly covered her brain and she didn't notice until it was too late.

Then, boom. His cock hit her cervix and she woke up, mind clearer than ever, with an increasing sensitivity along every thrust.

With a guttural scream of ecstasy, she shook, clawing at Ellison's back; an act that spurred him to fuck harder.

"Oh, fuuuck," she slurred.

"Good?" he asked.

"SO GOOOOD!" she cried out.

It was a catastrophically new and amazing experience. She wondered how bad it would be if she got used to it. It felt like it would mess with her dopamine receptors beyond repair.

She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, her legs flexibly spread and nowhere near the floor. She now only realized how much of her weight he's been supporting all this time.

"What the fuck was that?" She gripped at his back.

He chuckled at her confusion. "That was me hitting your cervix when you're almost unconscious. Most people avoid it because it hurts when you're not sufficiently stimulated. And because it's hard to do, even for enthusiasts."

"That said, there's always some discomfort even if you do it right. That's what the asphyxiation is for. To douse you back up with minimal pain," he patiently explained.

Dumfounded at his random yet extensive knowledge of the human body, she asked with her eyes shut, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes out of pleasure, "What are you, some kind of guru nerd?"

"Oh, please. Get me a nerd who scores as much as me," he scoffed playfully. Ellison was kidding, of course. Honestly, he would categorize himself as a nerd. Casually going to medical school for a year to learn more about the human body seems like something a psycho would do, sure, but he'd prefer the terms "curious" and "nerdy."

Max laughed at his joke with a stunning smile. Dumbfounded, he stared at her. Truthfully speaking, this was very unlike him. This intimate hook-up with the gentle teaching and the excessive kissing. The whole night, he wondered why.

The smile sort of explained that.

"You're....something else, aren't you?"

Max didn't hear him. She was too busy being drunk on the knowledge that there are still pleasures unfamiliar to her. "What?"

He shook his head and replied, "Nothing." Only he knew that an ugly emotion was searing through him. An emotion he was well acquainted with.

Desire. Overflowing desire to destroy her. Own her. Resentment. At the thought of this girl having someone else in her life, some other guy to fuck.

Most people would probably attribute most of his success to either money or his intellect. But Ellison thought contrarily.

This hunger, by far, was the biggest reason he achieved his status in life. It came rarely, but when it did, nothing stopped him. Like a hyper-fixating worm crawling through his skull, he had to do it. He had to eat that specific cereal. He had to fuck that guy's wife. He had to tear down that company and sell it for parts. And now?

God, Ellison had to own her. He wanted nothing more in the moment than to own her. Completely. If that meant ungodly sex and teaching her a few things at the expense of his own pleasure for a little while, then so be it.

He would have the last laugh, when everything she had was his to control. Taking everything she was and placing it under his feet as she thanks him for it.

He wasn't a complete asshole, though. In everything he did, he always—ALWAYS gave his victims the freedom of choice. You don't violate things like free will. That was Ellison's unbending philosophy.

Of course, even that is subjective. In their own self-contained spaces, where the meaning of the word "choice" is that much more loose, Ellison's pets learned to choose what he wanted in fear of a much worse alternative.

As such, they had to know their options fully. After all, uninformed choices were no choices at all. They were a rat's desperate attempts at trickery. And he had no desire to do that. Max will slowly see him for who he is, he'll make sure of that.

But she'll choose him anyway. He'll make sure of that too.

Just like the people under him, who chose day to day to be a part of the system, no matter how bad it gets.

Simply because they knew that there are much worse things in the world than to be owned.

Ellison lightly bit at her shoulder, attempting to dampen his desire. Temporarily. Just for now. She'll be his given time.

Meanwhile, Max, unknowing of the monster she let in, enjoyed the meticulous work on her body. She whispered in his ear, "Do it again."

"What?"

"Make me feel even better. Do that thing, harder this time."

He bit his lips. "So bossy."

"Yeah? So what? Got anything to say?"

Ellison shook his head. "No, ma'am."

He was going to have fun with this first, though.

It took an hour before they were completely spent. By the end of it, they were both struggling to be conscious. Max gave out first after her twelfth orgasm. And Ellison carried her out to the elevator and into the building's penthouse.

After an unknown amount of time, Max opened her eyes to a ceiling made entirely of glass, highlighted by LED lights. She looked around. The room looked just as dim as the club, but the light was dynamically flowing with the more grounded music put out on the surround speakers.

More importantly, she may have woken up to the most comfortable bed she's ever laid on.

"Where are we?" Max asked.

Ellison looked up; he was just beside her, laying comfortably on the beanbag chair with the vaporizer in his hand and a book on the other. He looked pretty high, but otherwise alert.

"We're right above the club. It's kind of like a VIP room."

She surveyed the whole area. It had everything, and judging by Ellison's familiarity with the place, he was well aware of the place. "And we couldn't do it here?" Max was aggrieved. The place was loads better than the bathroom.

Ellison chuckled and answered back, "We could have. Then I'll have missed out on the best bathroom sex I've ever had."

She shrugged. He was right. It was the best sex she's ever had, period. Might have felt better with the more comfortable sofa, but he was right. It wouldn't have been the same without the sense of urgency.

She looked at the ceiling. "Is that a pool?" she said, speechless at this room's luxurious frivolity.

"Yeah. You want to swim?"

"Sounds dodgy, so no. You'll just peek at me."

He laughed.

She looked at him quietly.

"Be honest. Do you own the club?" The watch. The way he talked to that bartender. How comfortable he looked right now. Now the glass pool and whatever this room is?

Pieces of a puzzle were slowly creating a picture of the mysterious man in front of her; the same man who had fucked her so good she passed out.

He looked back at her and nodded. "I own this building."

Max tried not to show her shock. With it, an odd sense of betrayal pervaded her.

"You said you worked in corporate." She assumed Ellison was somewhere in the middle, but no one in the middle would be capable of owning a building.

"I do. I own a few companies here and there."

"Here and there?"

"Why are you upset?" he calmly asked, dropping his book.

"I'm not. I'm...."

"Angry. That's what you look like right now."

"Because! I....I don't know. You're...."

"I'm what?"

"You're...different. You're different from what I thought you'd be."

"Where awhile ago I seemed like a likable jackass and now I'm just a jackass?" he argued.

Max covered her face in embarrassment. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. Maybe because she thought they were, on a fundamentally grander scheme of things, very much the same. To find out they weren't....is a little bit of a downer to the amazing night she had today.

She calmed herself down and replied, "You're right. This doesn't change anything. We don't even know each other, and we certainly won't after today."

Max needed to snap out of it. She wasn't being herself.

To be fair, this was completely unexplored territory. All of her sexual relationships had been with men she was romantically attracted to. In fact, she's actually never had sex with a man she wasn't dating. That could be why. Maybe.

Maybe a part of her wanted to date Ellison for a moment. But clearly there was a difference in dating an employee who works 40 hours a week and an employer who owns an entire fucking building—and from this city, no less.

Some people may not care for that distinction, but she did. Anyone who could casually own a few buildings "here and there" would be, at the very least, a millionaire. She couldn't hang out with someone who earns that kind of dirty money, let alone date them.

"Well, who decided that?" Ellison scoffed.

"We both did. You said—"

He interrupted, "I know what I said, but that was before the amazing sex."

Max stared at him for a moment and nodded, seeing no point in denying it.

"It's amazing, sure. But I don't see why that changes anything. We live in different worlds. We're two very different people," she said as a matter of fact.

"Do you want a building so we're more similar?" he almost asked. Max would probably laugh at first, thinking he was joking. Right before running away when she finds out he could seriously consider buying her a building.

Ellison couldn't have that.

"People don't have to be similar to fuck. We came into this knowing we were both different—"

"It doesn't matter, all right? I usually don't have sex with men I'm not dating either."

"We could date."

The room turned silent.

"Be serious."

"I'm just saying we have an insane amount of chemistry in bed." He leaned closer to her.

"It would be such a waste throwing it away, don't you think?" Ellison twirled the ends of her hair with his index finger.

"We didn't even do it in a bed," she argued dryly.

He chuckled, "We're both consenting adults. I know we don't like each other, but I see no reason why we can't fuck."

"Are you serious? Because that's the whole point of having sex; liking each other."

"You didn't like me, and you had a great time."

Max argued internally. She did like him. Now that she knew he was more than what he let on, however, she couldn't see a future there. No good came out of being involved with situations like these, really.

More importantly, her instincts cried out.

That Max probably wouldn't be able to ignore the kind of work that could buy Ellison an entire building.

"That's true. I don't," she replied.

"Yet you loved it. And so did I. Why deny ourselves the simple fun of fucking each other's brains out?"

Max thought about it for a second. That didn't mean he was wrong, though. She had been a good girl for most of her life. When everyone was busy frolicking, she was at home or in the library, busy writing her political opinions on paper—afraid that they were going to be washed away in the shores of time.

She's denied herself any enjoyment for years.

So why couldn't she use Ellison and have fun for once in her life?

She had to admit, the pleasure she felt today was too good to pass up. She shouldn't feel bad for wanting to feel that again, right...?

"Then what are you proposing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He stood up. "Three months. Just pure unadulterated fun, no strings attached. We call each other, explore a little bit. Then we part ways. Neatly."

Max couldn't deny the deal appealed greatly to her. "And we can stop anytime?" she asked.

"Obviously. If either of us wants to quit, we quit. No questions asked."

She thought about it. "I don't know. What if it gets messy?"

"I don't do messy. I don't do love either, let's get that clear."

She nodded. "I'm not looking for a relationship either."

He smirked. "So we agree."

She looked at him.

"I guess we do," she stated awkwardly before continuing, "We should probably lay on some ground rules."

He smirked. "Rules? Does that mean you're on board?"

She took a deep breath and replied, "If you agree to them."

"Sure. Any rules you want, Ms. Journalist."

"Our work. At no point should our....deal affect each other's careers. I will never interfere or even know anything about what you do and I expect the same courtesy."

The man nodded. "Of course. They don't mix well after all."

"No kissing outside of sex."

Ellison laughed. They can straight up tongue-kiss, but they can't peck.

"Okay. I'm slightly bummed out, but that's totally reasonable," he said sarcastically.

Max ignored his teasing; she knew the irony. But there was something fundamentally different between gently kissing someone and a make-out session in the middle of sex. That line was the difference between a neat separation after mutual benefit and a messy one.

"Anything else?"

"I don't want to be tied down. I'm sure you don't want that either, so we should cleanly separate if we meet someone."

A glint shone on Ellison's eyes before quickly disappearing.

He smiled. "I'll tell you what. The day your "Prince Charming" appears on his white horse is the day we stop fucking."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Anything else?" he asked, curious to see what she'll come up with next.

"Strictly sex. I don't want to see you or hear about your day unless it ends in sex. Small talk is fine, but you can't call me just to talk to me."

"Ouch. That's pretty cold. Would it be so bad to get to know each other a little better? It's like you're using me for my body."

She countered calmly, "I am. And so are you."

"Fair enough. Those are valid ground rules. I accept."

He added after a pause, lips pursed in a smile, "You're very good at this, by the way. Have you done this before?" Ellison knew for a fact she hadn't done it before. This was most likely unfamiliar territory for her. He wasn't lying about the job well done, though. For her first time, Max was very thorough. As expected of a journalist.

She looked at him. "Is that small talk?"

He raised his hands in resignation. "Okay, okay. And I thought I was unromantic."

After exchanging numbers, Max straightened the wrinkles in her outfit and said her goodbyes. Ellison actually prepared a new set of clothes for her, but she politely refused. If she changed into it, Sydney was bound to notice, and Max wasn't sure she wanted it known yet.