Ember & Ashe Ch. 2

Soon, my dear. I'm almost done.

I reached the top pair of buttons, these large, tightly stitched affairs sewn onto the waistband of the pants. They did not pop off as easily as the others had. Instead, I grabbed these large silver buttons between my index and third fingers and pulled straight outwards. I applied my full strength to my task. Another barrier had fallen. I pulled the savaged purple material free of Eimi's gorgeous legs. The ruined pants dropped to the bathroom floor.

Eimi stood before me, fresh and pure. The globes of her ass seemed larger once freed from their confinement. I could no longer contain myself. I dove forward, I'd I would die without it.

My inflamed last burned hot on the fuel of her fantastic body. That perfect ass, baked a golden brown both by birth and by the rays of the sun beckoned me forward. I tongued the faint tan lines made by some absent bikini. Her delicately seasoned and scented flesh reminded me of flowers. "Lavender," I said out loud between mouthfuls of ripe, lush, ass flesh.

How could I not want to eat her alive? She with the eyes shaped like almonds, licorice-coloured hair, and who oozed honey from her cleft? God created her to sustain me. My tongue darted between her ass cheeks, butting against the puckered oyster of her anus. The Guardians of her inner-spaces came together, bunching into a tight brown knot to deny me access.

Fuck that!

My stiffened tongue shoved the sentries aside as it burrowed deep into her castle courtyard. Eimi gasped, both in pleasure and in alarm.

"No," she pleaded. "I am filthy there."

I jabbed my tongue into her a few more times, as much for her speech as for my own pleasure. Her gasps made the rest of her words a babbling fountain of incoherence.

I rose in front of her, undoing the front clasps of her demi-bra. Her unfettered breasts did not change shape at all. Shit! She didn't need that bra for support in any way. She must have worn it only for looks. Perhaps it felt good against her skin. Right now, it was only an obstacle that had to be removed. I pulled it from her, undoing her laced hands to allow the garment to slip off her arms unhindered. I tossed the bra away. Eimi stood as I had left her, arms at her sides, mannequin-like. She waited for me to position her body in any manner I desired. I laughed. I'd found my very own fuck-toy. I tilted her head forward and kissed her mouth. She responded well, her tongue encircling mine and sucking it in. She seemed to enjoy me as much as I enjoyed her. I let her have her way with me for a few more moments before breaking off the kiss.

"Ready to bathe, my dear?" I asked her. I drew her bath and added some of my favourite soaps and oils to the water. Eimi stood unmoving, head back, eyes closed. Only now, her legs were closed and her hands placed demurely in front of her sex. Of course, this made her breasts compress together, emphasizing them.

I had treated the water with the lavender and lilac oils and soaps, in deference to her preferred colour scheme and to the natural tastes and smells she seemed to possess. From this moment on, lilac and lavender would be her scents and her colours. I'd make sure that she had adequate clothes in those shades. Lilac. Lavender. Lilac and Lavender Livery. I giggled like an idiot. The alliteration pleased me almost as much as the woman did herself. Rarely did I enjoy myself so much, especially during a sexual encounter. Sex was a need, but seldom a pleasure for me. But Eimi. She seemed to bring out the child in me. This wasn't just sex. it was an adventure. The acts themselves were mundane, but seemed incredibly exciting when done with her. I wondered how far I could go with this game.

"Are you ready for the bath, my dear?" I asked her. Her mouth parted, then closed again. She hesitated, seemingly confused. She nodded instead of speaking. I smiled. I had wondered whether she would speak out of turn or not. She was everything that I could have asked for. "Come to me," I commanded. I seized her by the moist valley between her legs and pulled her over to the bath.

Eimi struck my hand away. All vestiges of the lust-induced torpor she had been in vanished. Her eyes glittered with anger. The orbs looked as livid as the angry purple bruise that graced her cheek.

"No," she said, wagging a perfectly sculpted opalized-violet fingernail at me. "Never touch me there. Never."

Eimi strode around me, lowering herself into the steaming hot bath I had drawn for her. Her eyes closed as she sunk into the foamy waves. Deep, contented sighs escaped her lips as the heated water and scented oils did their work on her tense body. I watched her in silence, confounded by her illogical outburst. Don't touch her there? Where, her snatch? I had been frigging that through her pants for a good ten minutes already! Was it the bare skin contact that bothered her, or the demeaning way I had pulled her over to me? No more demeaning than ripping up her clothes or pulling her around by the roots of her hair. I won't lie to you; I was perplexed.

When in the military, and later as a mercenary, one axiom had constantly been drilled into my head: When confused, inaction often means death. Act. Never simply react. With that in mind, I decided to continue our play as if nothing had happened.

More fool me, right?

I leaned over to Eimi and kissed her forehead, her ruined cheek. She flinched, but did not protest. My kisses made their way down the side of her neck, and to her smooth shoulders. My right hand plunged into the water, stroking her taut belly. She moaned softly, enjoying my touch. I massaged her stomach. The tight muscles relaxed, turning to soft pliant flesh beneath my kneading palm and fingers. I took her mouth again, my tongue luxuriating in the silken hot recesses that made the steaming bathwater feel cool by comparison. Our tongues duelled, fighting for supremacy. She felt much more aggressive than before. That was cool. This, too, excited me. I loved women with spirit. We continued to kiss as my hand stroked her stomach, and then slipped downwards towards her woman's place. Upon reaching it, I stroked its full length, from her anus, over her folds, right on up to her rock-hard clit in one long pass.

A small hand held me by the throat and pushed me backwards as the other hand caught me on the side of the face with its back. Eimi's lightning-quickness shocked me, as did her strength. That dainty hand felt like a chunk of tempered steel sheathed in satin. The blow brought stars to my vision. It had been so unexpected, I hadn't been able to prepare for it. The motes that obscured my vision cleared as Eimi rose from her bath. Caps of white froth clung to her high breasts, thighs and belly.

"You don't listen, Andrew Grissolm," she accused. "Don't touch me there. No one may." She shook in her rage, the tremors jiggling her foam-gilded breasts enticingly. "Why do you not just accept the things I'm giving you? Why do you seek more from me than I am willing to share?"

To say that she felt upset was to call a Tsunami a breaker in a wave pool. "This play is over," she announced, sounding like a hostess in a Japanese Soapland. "We talk price. Now."

"Price?" I repeated stupidly. I wish that I did not sound so flummoxed. My usually deep, baritone voice squeaked. If Eimi noticed, she did not say.

"Price. Time is money, Andrew Grissolm. One hundred and fifty dollars per half hour, as I stated when we first met. It's just past twelve. You owe me six hundred and fifty."

"Six hundred and fifty. Dollars. Ah. I see. Are you fucking ill?" My voice dropped low, well into the danger zone. I seized her by the upper arm. Hard. I felt my eyes open up, straining at the edges. My nostrils tingled, as they did when I became extremely agitated. I was well known for my hot temper. Back in the day, my comrades walked lightly when I was in this state. Ever see a bunch of ex-marines and British commandos pussyfooting around? Hilarious, I assure you. Well, Eimi would have none of it. Stature of a mouse, heart of a lion. Her jet eyes regarded me like she would a child who had yet to learn proper manners. She looked... embarrassed. My actions were beneath me, her pitying gaze said.

"Release me immediately. You hurt me."

Shit! How I longed to squeeze even harder, bear down until I felt her bones splinter beneath my grip. I had more than enough strength and skill to do so. Hell, I had been trained in the art of breaking bones and dislocating joints. Instead, I released her arm as she had requested.

Requested? Ordered, if I had to remain honest with myself.

Her arm now sported five reddish mars where my finger pads had dug into her tender flesh. Before my eyes, dark pools formed in the dents my fingers had made. The blood-marks bulged outwards slightly, like blisters. Eimi coolly eyed the damage done to her once-perfect, golden skin.

"Seven hundred, Andrew Grissolm." 'Andrew Grissolm.' How I'd grow to hate my name spoken in that special way she had when pissed off. "Six hundred by rate, fifty for my inconvenience, and another fifty because of your rough treatment of me. Must I add another hundred for my ruined clothing?"

My mouth worked soundlessly. Seven notes. Man, I hadn't even busted a nut yet! I'd be buggered if she saw a fucking cent.

"I don't pay for sex, Eimi," I reminded her.

"That's why you see so little of it," she countered. She climbed over the lip of the ivory, gold and white marble bathtub and stepped into the glass-encased shower unit in the corner of the room. The high-pressured burst of water rinsed the few remaining suds from her. She scrubbed her hair, and then squeezed it out. She flicked it over her shoulder. It smacked loudly against her back, hanging in one long black mass, a river of silken ebony strands. Fuck, I wanted that ass so badly, my nuts hurt. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

"I must dry myself and get ready for bed. Please leave the light on and the door open in the chamber I am to occupy. I sleep nude, so no sleepwear need be provided for me. Have a suitable set of clothes ready for me in the morning. I intend to leave here quite early."

"Anything else," I asked wryly.

"My fee, of course. Did I truly have to mention it again? Have my money ready."

Eimi industriously started to dry herself with the plush, terry-pile bath sheet. I noticed that she spent an inordinate amount of time on her breasts and cunt. Ah... her breathing was getting harder! She was bringing herself off, right before my eyes. I started to take a step toward her when she spoke again.

"You are not needed here, Andrew Grissolm. Go and do what I asked you to." She moved the thick towelling away from her cunt and spread the flaps of her box open, exposing her aroused clit to me. Its engorged, raw looking length poked out at me, as rigid as a little prick. Eimi's thumb rapidly skated over it. Her digit blurred as it flicked over her pleasure button. Her chest heaved as she worked on herself. The barest hint of bright pink tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth, practically gleaming against her lips. Her hot body was a stark contrast to her frosty eyes. They pinioned me in place with their icy stare. She did this to punish me, I realized. "Look what you could have had, if you hadn't fucked it all up," her eyes seemed to say. Her dark, accusing eyes crept closed as she began to whimper. She was close.

Man, I couldn't take any more of this. I fled the bathroom. The shrill cries of Eimi's self-induced orgasm echoed in the hallway. Annoyed, I slammed the bathroom door shut. It didn't help. Her screams of rapture reverberated in my brain. I was still horny, no doubt, but I felt something else that drained all of the lust out of me.

Shame.

I felt small as I stood naked in the hallway. My hangdog-penis seemed to mirror my feelings. My behaviour in the bath was no different that the actions of those two thugs in the alley. I had done something to her body that she explicitly told me not to do. Perhaps the scale differed, but the infraction remained the same. I was no better in her eyes than those two rapists. That shouldn't matter to me. Hey, she was just a slut rented out by the hour, right? Three hundred bones per hour, at that!

Unfortunately, it did matter. It mattered a great deal.

It was with a heavy heart that I went to prepare Eimi's room. Preparing it took moments only. After all, I lived here alone and I stayed mostly on the third floor. As requested, I left the light on and the door open, then I took off for my rooms on third. Yeah. Pathetic. Some tough guy I was. Leave it to me to tuck my tail between my legs - or prick, in this particular case - and run away from a hundred pound, five-foot-something woman. Fuck, the situation seemed hilarious, even to me! I had, through a rather Byzantine process, hired a hooker, failed to fuck her, and now was going upstairs to whack myself off. Worse, I was on the hook for seven C's for the bloody privilege. Ludicrous.

I laughed as I climbed the circular staircase to the third floor. My day had started badly, remained rotten, and had ended up worse than I could have ever imagined. I prayed that tomorrow would be better.

Yeah, I know. I should have known better.