Educating Marri Ch. 25

It was much later than I'd ever planned on when Andrew dropped me back off at Torch. By the time he'd managed to get me back out of the ties and we'd taken a quick shower, it was ridiculously well past midnight. Not to mention that particular session had left me more exhausted and physically drained than any workout routine I'd ever tried. I was more than a little sore, but I was also perfectly happy and fulfilled.

Andrew called his boss in the morning and they eventually agreed to let him come in at noon and stay late to make up the rest of the hours. We slept cuddled together on the same sheets we'd made love on and our scent was still very strong. He whipped up a quick breakfast and we got to Torch around eleven.

We said our goodbyes in the car, kissing and stroking each other like horny teenagers.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked for about the millionth time.

"I swear, I'm fine. There aren't even any marks from the belt. Just a couple from your teeth."

He blushed slightly, a small grin on his face. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Somehow I doubt that," I teased. "You know you love having your marks on me."

"Hey, I owed you. I've only got one tie left to my name."

I smiled back, remembering how he'd had to resort to scissors after trying to untie the knots. It was just impossible. I'd pulled on them too tightly in my many struggles.

"Should I buy you some more for Christmas?"

He laughed and pushed a stray hair back behind my ear. "I'll settle for having you explain to my brother why all of the silk ties he sent me over the years are now in little shreds in the garbage."

"Think he'd believe it?"

"Hell no."

We kissed a little more and I glanced at the clock. "You should really get going. If you get to work any later, you'll be there 'til midnight."

He sighed. "I know. Saturday just seems so far away. Then you have your finals and I won't see you at all next week."

"I'll be over next Friday. You promised to drive me to the airport on Saturday."

"Then you'll really be gone for another week."

I sighed. He was right. I wasn't looking forward to the separation, either, but I didn't really have much choice. Finals week would be hell. I'd be so exhausted all I'd want to do is sleep when I wasn't studying. I'd have a hard enough time just getting through my sessions.

Fortunately, though, apparently the holiday season kept most of our clients home. We'd all be getting a bit of a break. In addition to my time off, I'd only be on duty three nights instead of five.

It was actually pretty funny to think of our clients having sudden attacks of conscience and urges to spend time with their families. It meant less money, but I wasn't about to complain. I was thankful not to have to beg for the time off to go home and of course the extra study time.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make up for it when I come back," I said, nuzzling back into his neck and kissing it softly

"Careful," he moaned. "Keep that up and I'll never get to work at all. And I'm already in the doghouse as it is."

A final hug and a restrained kiss, and he was off. I went up to my room feeling totally depressed. I still had no idea what to even get him for Christmas, and now I wanted it to be extra special to make up for the time we'd be apart.

I went into my apartment and locked the door. I threw my bag on the floor and dragged out my laptop, determined to search the net until I found the perfect present.

* * * * *

I was dressed in a super skimpy tank top, mini skirt, and sheer cropped vest. I hadn't gotten any studying done, something I deeply regretted, but I'd gotten some really good ideas for Andrew's present. I'd have to get up to the mall by myself so he didn't see what I picked out. I decided to head out there between classes the next day. As much as I hated to miss out on any studying time, I knew I'd never get out there once finals started.

"Marri, your client is here."

I took a deep breath and stretched. I headed down to the foyer and saw Beverly standing there next to a man who towered over her. He was well over six feet tall and had incredibly broad shoulders. His skin was golden brown, making me assume he went to tanning booths fairly often, and bleached wavy hair. He was dressed in skintight jeans, black boots, and a white tank top despite the cold weather. I could see an awful lot of muscles under it and it looked like he shaved his chest.

He reminded me either of some sort of model or the guys on the cover of trashy romance novels on those spinning racks in the supermarket. I suppose he was technically handsome, especially with his unlined, blemish-free skin and square jaw, but I didn't find him overly attractive. He just looked too pretty, too high maintenance. I'd never had any patience for men who took longer to get ready than I did.

But all in all, I couldn't find any reason to complain. He was certainly clean and well groomed and was better looking than most guys who came to Torch. I smiled and sauntered over, watching as his eyes went from my head to my feet and back up again.

"Marri, this is Chuck, your client for the evening."

"Hello," I said.

"She looks good, Bev," he grinned. "Thanks for picking her out for me."

"My pleasure," she assured him. "Now go on and enjoy yourself."

I led him upstairs and into my room. He lounged back onto the bed, propped up on his elbows and grinning for all he was worth. I locked the door and he asked, "Bet you're glad you got me tonight, huh babe?"

I nodded and smiled, playing along even though part of me wanted to slap that arrogant smile right off of his face. "Oh yeah," I agreed, walking toward him, making sure I rolled my hips with every step. "I love getting hot guys like you."

He winked at pointed at me. "Well then I guess tonight's your lucky night. So why don't you do a little strip for me so I can see what I spent my money on."

I wished I had some music, as corny as it was, but I just started running through the music Andrew and I had listened to on his radio that morning in my mind. I started by swaying my hips back and forth while I slowly eased the vest off of my shoulders. His eyes were wide and full of lust, and his reaction actually made me get into it.

Soon I was teasing him, flashing my tits for a few seconds before yanking my top back down into place, making him lick his lips. I strutted over to the bed and straddled him, stretching my legs a little further apart than was technically necessary just to kneel around his thighs, but I knew he'd be able to feel the heat from my bare pussy. I leaned forward so I was only inches from his face and raised the shirt again, this time keeping my chest covered.

"You want to see my tits?"

"Yeah."

"Then take the shirt off yourself."

He laid back the rest of the way so he could use his arms and pulled it up and over my head. He tossed it aside and I leaned forward, holding myself up on my hands. He reached up and squeezed my breasts tightly.

"This would be easier if you were naked," I murmured, running my tongue over his ear.

That arrogant grin was back. "I knew you'd be begging to get me out of my clothes. You got it, babe."

I got back up and watched as he quickly peeled his clothes away. His body was even nicer than I'd expected, but he was so obviously full of himself that it took away from any real appeal. I found it ironic that he was convinced every woman in the world wanted him and he was paying for sex at a high-class whorehouse.

But I didn't have time to delve into his subconscious. I truly didn't care. I forced away the feelings of annoyance and decided to embrace his attitude. He wanted a woman who couldn't keep her hands off him, and I had every intention of giving it to him.

He was down to bare skin within seconds and his cock was already hard. It pointed up at the ceiling and I sauntered over and grabbed it. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft and gave it a few experimental tugs. His eyes got wide and his smile broadened.

"Some dick, eh, sweetheart?"

"Mm, yeah," I agreed, stepping in even closer, putting one leg between his and pressing my pussy against his thigh. "Maybe we should get my skirt out of the way."

"Nah, leave it on," he said, reaching down and sliding his hand under the hem. "Chicks look hot in little skirts."

I closed my eyes and rolled my head back as his fingers found the opening of my snatch. To my surprise, though, he didn't put them inside. He just gave the lips a quick squeeze and pushed me away.

"What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Look, babe, no offense or anything, but I don't fuck little whores like you."

"Excuse me?" Now I was not only confused, I was a little pissed.

"Let's face it, sweetheart. I get all the pussy I want and more."

"Then why are you here?"

His grin widened, losing some of its cockiness and taking on a new hardness I hadn't expected. He sat up and beckoned me closer. I stood between his legs, only a few inches away, and he delivered a light slap to my face. I gasped and went to back up impulsively, but he grabbed the waistband of my skirt and yanked me forward.

"I come here for the occasional skull fuck. Now get on your knees and get started."

He released my skirt and I dropped to the floor, blushing in spite of myself. I was staring at his erect cock, his well-muscled thighs on either side of my face. He grabbed the hair on the back of my head with one hand and my chin with the other. His grip was hard and rough, and when he spoke again, he squeezed my chin, forcing my jaw open before I could react.

"Open up, little whore," he said in a horrid singsong voice. "Open up and suck my dick."

In one smooth motion, he slid forward so his ass rested on the very edge of the mattress and pulled my head down, impaling my mouth on his cock. I gagged and sputtered, my hands nearly pushing me away out of pure instinct, but he held fast to my hair and slapped my other cheek, this time hard enough to sting.

"You're gonna take what I give you, whore, and you're gonna thank me for it," he said, still in that awful high pitched voice more suited to talking to a cat or dog than a human being. "Because that's what a little whore like you deserves."

He yanked my head off of his cock and jerked it backwards, forcing me to look up at him. "So, what do you say?"

"Th... Thank you."

"Because..." he prodded, pulling my hair even harder.

"Because I'm a little whore."

"And?"

"And I deserve it."

"Good little whore," he crooned, landing another light slap to my face. "From now on, if your mouth isn't full of my dick or my load, you better be saying that over and over unless I tell you to stop. Understand?"

I opened my mouth to answer, forcing down my disgust at being treated and acting like a trained poodle, but before I could utter a word, he shoved my head back down, once again gagging me with his cock. He gripped my hair with both hands and commenced to deliver his beloved skull fuck. He barely moved his hips, preferring instead to pull my head up and down, pulling the hair way down to the roots and making my scalp throb. At first, I tried to move along with him, but that only seemed to make it hurt that much more, so I resigned myself to being under his control and concentrated on coordinating my breathing with the deep throating.

At least the gagging had stopped. It was really from the surprise of having his member jammed down my throat, because the more I sucked on it, the more I realized it was actually a lot smaller than I'd originally thought. I would have laughed if I wasn't so busy sucking him off. All I could think of was the old idea that the most "macho" men were trying to make up for something lacking between the legs. I couldn't help wondering what kind of car he drove and if it was as big and flashy as his personality.

Every so often, he would yank me off his rod and I'd be expected to say his little mantra, "Thank you. I'm just a little whore, and I deserve it." I must have said it at least ten times, each time it was followed by his sugary sweet, "Good little whore," and another slap to the face.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire and throbbed mercilessly. I couldn't believe he hadn't cum yet. He was almost as long lasting as Frank but with none of Frank's interest, however small, in giving me any pleasure, or at the very least, not causing me any pain. And I was beyond fed up with his little boy voice and my required response.

His dick was finally getting to the point I recognized as the brink of orgasm, but he abruptly pulled my head away. Without a word, he slapped my face repeatedly, one cheek after the other, his other hand still pulling my hair. "Say it," he murmured, still in that ridiculous voice.

"Thank you," I recited between slaps. "I'm a little whore, and I deserve it."

He stopped slapping me and grabbed his cock. He started jerking off violently, tugging and yanking while the fingers on his other hand squeezed into an even tighter fist, making my scalp practically scream in protest.

"Open your mouth, little whore," he groaned, his strokes actually speeding up.

Obediently, I opened wide, fully prepared to resume sucking, but he had other ideas. He pulled me closer but kept me a few inches away, my mouth still open and ready. "Here it comes, little whore," he cried, and jets of his spunk shot out. Some went into my mouth, but he directed the rest to land on my face so it could slide down my skin.

"Swallow it, little whore," he grunted, his voice unbelievably still high pitched.

I swallowed what had landed on my tongue and had to resist the urge to wipe the rest away. He grabbed my chin again and pulled my head so he was looking directly at my cum-covered face. "Say it."

"Thank you. I'm a little whore, and I deserve it."