My Four Aces Ch. 06

"Well . . . we could just . . . fuck."

I was loving this and wanted to stretch it out a bit more. I put on my best it's-just-not-that-simple look.

"Thing is, even though you're still very beautiful and I don't really like Barry all that much, I'm kind of seeing someone right now and just because she's out of town doesn't mean . . . "

"Please!" It popped out of her mouth so fast that it took a second for the look of abject terror to reach her eyes. The Princess of All She Surveyed had just begged a guy to fuck her. She wasn't done yet.

"You want it that bad, Suzie?" Part of the suggestion I'd parked in her brain involved a growing aphrodisiac effect from the humiliation of hearing the diminutive forms of her name. She'd always hated being called anything but "Susan" and now every "Suze" and "Suzie" from my lips was making her hotter than the one before.

"Yes . . . I . . . I mean . . . I want to feel . . . I mean, I need to feel . . . "

"It's not really about feelings, is it Suzie? ‘Cause I don't have any feelings for you any more. I mean, you're hot and I know you like to fuck and suck and we had some good times in the sack . . . and in the back seat and there was that time on the golf course and on that racquetball court . . . ." I was prolonging her humiliation, but that was part of my pattern of hypnotic suggestions too. Every reminder of her wanton sexuality, every refresher from her sexual history and every roadblock I threw up that made her fight harder to have her rising need met would just make her hotter. I wanted her to know she was jonesing for it, not understand why and not be able to stop herself.

For the moment, she was speechless. Her own mounting lust was causing her hands to twitch. She wanted to reach up and get herself off, or at least pinch her nipples or something, but that would be abject surrender and she wasn't quite there yet.

"What do you want, Suzie?

"I want . . . I want you . . . I want to please you . . . to . . ," This time her hand did stray to her nipple and the pinch she gave it made her gasp. Her knees quivered.

"You have to say it, Suze. You're going to have to ask me for what you want," I decided it was time for a big twist this time, "And then, when you tell me . . . no, when you beg me to give you what you want, then I'll decide whether you get it or not."

She looked stunned. I could see the angry retort form on her lips, followed by a look of panic in her eyes as she realized that if she said what she was thinking, I might not give her what she now had to have. And then this proud blonde bitch goddess of a woman cracked. I could see it in the set of her shoulders. They didn't droop, they shifted to show me her boobs to their absolute best advantage. She was going for it with hardly a second thought.

"I want you to fuck me. Please."

I smiled, but didn't move.

"Please, Paul. I . . . I need to you to fuck me, right here, right now."

"Really?" I replied. "But what about what you said to me when we broke up? That you'd never really wanted to do all the things we did, that I made you? And that you were faking it half the time?"

"I was lying, Paul! I was trying to hurt you. I'm so sorry."

"So you were kind of a bitch, huh?"

Her lips trembled and tears began forming at the corners of her eyes. She began to see what I was going to extract from her.

"Yes. Yes, I was a bitch. And I cheated on you, with Barry."

"And you tried to seduce Scott, too, didn't you, at that keg party when I was out of town?'

"I . . . I did. I was terrible." She was crying now and her ragged breathing wasn't just about the tears, because the fingers of her right hand were tracing the line of her panties just below her tight belly, occasionally slipping below the lace to tease the top of her very damp slit. "And I'm so sorry for that and for everything else. I just . . . ," And then I saw the idea for a new tactic slide across her face. "I need you to fuck me really, really hard and get back at me. Make me pay for it all."

"Y'know, Suzie, that's a good idea. Making you pay for it all. But I think we're going to do that MY way, if that's all right with you."

"Anything! I'll do whatever, just as long as you—"

"No conditions, Suze. You'll do whatever I say and I'll give you whatever I feel like giving you."

She looked abashed at this. It was beginning to dawn on her that she might not get fucked after all, but then I saw her confidence surge back. She was still the Amazing Susan, Best Fuck on the Planet. She'd break me down with her irresistible charms.

"Clear the couch and stretch out, but don't finish undressing. I'll be right back."

When I returned with the video camera, her eyes widened and her hips bucked ever so slightly as she pulled her hand out of her panties quickly. She blushed. To me, it was fetching but for her, it was just another sign of her growing loss of control.

"Don't stop on my account," I said, turning the camera on her. "Would you like to show me how you do that again, Suzie. Like in the pictures?"

A question from me was a trigger for her desire to answer it with words or with deeds—and action always speaks louder . . . well, you know the cliché.

In moments, my video-cam was recording her as she plunged two fingers into her panties and rolled one exposed nipple vigorously with the free hand. The squishing sounds were loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. God, she was beautiful! I mean, there are very few things in this world more beautiful than a good-looking blonde pleasuring herself, but I have to admit she was made exceptionally beautiful in this instance by the sweet bouquet of revenge rolling around on my palette, like a swig of fine wine. I realized that this was not exactly the height of moral behavior on my part—using an illicit, if not precisely illegal substance to take revenge on a woman who had done me wrong was not something St. Peter would be patting me on the back for when it came time to make my way to the pearly gates—but, y'know, sometimes you just say "fuck it." Or, in this case, "fuck her"!

She was getting close now. I remembered the telltale way she would bite at her upper lip just before exploding. There was a thin sheen of sweat over her entire body, her pussy hair was matted with juice and her toes curled even as her legs began to vibrate. I just couldn't resist extending the torture.

"Why can't you come, Suze?" And I could see the frustration in her face and the increased tension in her body as my simple question caused her orgasm to recede ever so slightly. I watched her struggle to get it back, but it stayed right there, on the edge.

"Do you need me to get you off?"

Her eyes snapped open and she stared at me. It was an interesting expression—part loathing of what she was finding herself compelled to do, part naked lust. A moan that combined similar feral qualities escaped her lips. Then, a panting, "Yes! Oh, God, please! Yes!"

"Then you'd better keep yourself ready for me while I get this camera on a tripod, hadn't you?"

Another of those moans curled from her throat, her eyelids fluttered and I could see whites as she redoubled her finger's futile efforts.

It took me a minute of doodling with the camera and tripod to get them hooked up and pointed just so. I ran an S-video cable into the back of the TV, so I could watch the action unfold and position myself properly. She was so busy trying to get off, she hardly noticed and, when I turned the camera back on, it was as though I'd never turned it off—groans and slurping noises from the heaving blonde porn star on the couch filled the screen. I took off my clothes and stepped into the frame in such a way that there was a clear image of me from the knees to the waist, cock in hand.

"Hey, Suzie, don't you want some of this?"

Again, her eyes popped open. Her hand never stopped moving, but it did slow slightly as she licked her lips.

She was on me like a shot and, before I knew it, had my cock plunging in and out of her throat. She always was good at this, I remembered, between jolts of ecstasy. From the root to the head, I was slavered with salivary goodness. I glanced down at her and found her looking up at me, the glint of a satisfied smile in her eyes. She thought she had me, like she used to. She'd get me on the edge and keep me there for what seemed like hours, then stop and roll over and stick a cock-ring on me. It's not that I didn't enjoy dicking her long and hard, but with Susan, it was always, always about her getting her rocks off a few dozen times before she'd even consider letting me come—and the Princess never, ever let me come in her mouth.

So, that look she was giving me right then? Fuel to the vengeful flames, baby.

"Don't you want to suck it, bitch?" I said, right into her power-trip eyes. "And swallow every drop?"

Again, she blanched. Hungry as she was for some cock, the last thing she expected was that I was going to drop my load down her for-all-I-knew-still-pristine throat. She was expecting some good, old fashioned fucking and a few dozen big ones, like in the old days.

"I think you'll find a big surprise at the end of my stick, baby, if you suck it right."

And her sudden fear was forgotten. She redoubled her efforts, her tongue tickling the underside of my dick like she was a pro in a hurry. The meaning of my little comment hadn't escaped her and her instant surrender to it made it clear that she understood her role now.

I must I have dumped a quart down her throat. With the first pulse of my prick and every wad she swallowed, until I was dry, she inched closer to her own release without ever quite getting there. She gasped around my dick, moaned in frustration and longing, trembled and writhed against my legs, her hands gripping my butt-cheeks as she went back for more of the precious jiz that promised joy . . . but wasn't going to deliver unless I said the magic words.

When I was done, I was weak in the knees and ready to sit down, so I stepped back, out of the frame of the camera lens and the image on the TV, leaving her there, gasping, rubbing her tits and diddling at her clit with quick, stabbing movements.

"Suze," I said, once I'd seated myself on a nearby ottoman, "It isn't going to happen unless I say it can."

She looked at me hard, all the anger drained out of her gaze and replaced by pure, horny desire. She didn't even question the veracity of what I'd said, only nodded slightly, as if to say, "Okay, what do I do now?"

"Get dressed and get out," I said. It was now or never. She'd drunk the Kool-Aid, as they say, and it was time to push her to her limit.

"But . . . I want to stay," she whimpered, "I—I'll do anything you ask. Please?"

And I almost bought it. She looked so pathetic and sexy all at once—a sheen of sweat covered her from head to toe, her hair was matted, above and below, and she smelled of her own juices. She'd swallowed very efficiently, so there was no trace of my spunk on her face, but even from here, I could tell she had a mean case of dick breath.

"Then you'll get dressed and get out. I'll call you when I need you."

I figured I'd let her go back to her little life with Barry and taste the pain and humiliation for a bit. He wasn't going to be able to do it for her any more, even the little bit of it he'd been doing. No way he could compete with the hold I now had over her.

She didn't argue any more, although her eyes still pleaded with me. I had her leave her underwear in my laundry and just wear her blouse, skirt, choker, and little boots home. The choker gave me an idea for later.

She made a half-hearted pass at the book of photographs, but I just shook my head. She sighed slightly, realizing that, not only was she not getting what she had come for in the first place, she'd also probably lost any chance of getting free from me ever again. I liked that she realized this, but didn't really want her totally resigned to her fate yet. Her breathing was still a bit shallow and her cheeks flushed from being so turned on, so close to the edge for so long.

"Suzie, a couple of things before you go." She shivered a little at the diminutive form of her name. It went right to her pussy now and, as close as she still was, sent a bolt of pleasure deep into her core. "It took some nerve to walk in here tonight. I'm not sure you get how nervy it was, ‘cause to you it probably seemed like a no-brainer that I'd give up the pictures for a little bit of nookie from you, and nobody any the wiser. To me, it was just another example of what a self-absorbed little bitch you are. But you are a good lay and you give good head and I like to think I had a lot to do with you getting good at those things so, as payback for the hurt you put on me, I'm going to take over your life.

"In fact, it's not your life anymore. It's going to change completely. You'll still work and keep yourself up and be with your friends and, for now at least, you'll still be with Barry. We're not getting back together or anything—you're just my slut. You're not going to tell anybody anything about this, but when I call, you drop what you're doing and you do what I tell you. I'm going to use you as I see fit and give you to whoever I want to give you to and you're going to feel the shame and humiliation you're feeling right now for every minute of whatever I put you through—but you're also going to learn that part of you wants it, because you can't live without this . . . "

And I leaned over and whispered one of the phrases I'd implanted as a post-hypnotic suggestions: "Slut of diamonds, come for me."

And, like a good little slut, the third of my aces, she came. And came hard. Standing in my doorway, she went from trembling, on-edge and teary-eyed to epileptic rag doll. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees gave way and she collapsed onto me. I eased her to the floor where she convulsed in the throes of the deepest, richest and most satisfying orgasm she'd ever known—the one that I'd dug out of her subconscious and detached from all the psychological threads of restraint that keep it in check. When she regained some small control of her limbs, her hands went straight to her tits and pussy, popping the buttons on her blouse and rucking up her skirt to try and extend the pleasure in the moment.

After a good three minutes, she slowly opened her eyes. She looked like she'd just had a hit of heroin. Her pupils were tiny, her eyelids heavy. Her breathing slowed to something long, slow and deep, though not quite even. That would take a bit longer.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, throaty—very hot.

"Oh my God, Paul! That . . . that was the most incredible . . . I don't know how to describe . . ." She licked her lips, trying to look sexy for me, without any awareness that she looked like a junkie whore after a night on the street. "Can I . . . could you . . .?"

"Can't do it now, babe." With my eyes, I implied that there could be dire consequences. It wasn't true, but I wanted her to discover for herself how much she now needed what I'd just given her. A few days with nothing after that little feast and she'd be even more willing and appreciative—and desperate for it--next time.

"Get out now." The bastard was back, but this time she didn't react with even a flash of anger or a plea for more, she just stood, albeit shakily, collected herself as best she could considering her shirt wouldn't completely button anymore, her skirt was a wrinkled wreck and she had no underwear, and walked out the door. I stood there as she made her way down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, she stopped for just a moment, looked back up at me with a touch of her now-bottomless desire for me creeping back into her eyes and her voice and said, simply, "Call me?"

"I'll be calling, Suzie. Don't you worry."

A relieved smile darted across her face as she turned back toward her car and, I had no doubt, a late date with Dr. Barry.

Boy, was he in for a shock.