The Fall of the Dragon Lady

"Yes, sir," she said. She had never heard a promise like that. Everybody lied. Even her father. She wasn't sure she could be that trusting, or that truthful, with anyone.

"I want to know what made your panties wet." he said, dipping another wrap in the sauce.

She lowered her eyes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Quietly, he reminded her, "Tell me the truth, Marcy."

"When you said...you were going to use me."

With an elated grin, he fed her the roll. Then she jerked upright, making a tiny squeak when his fingertip circled her clit.

While he finished off the rest of that roll, underneath the table his fingers were working their way into the elastic of her leg holes, touching the swollen flesh of her pussy. She slid down a little in her seat, pivoting her pussy up for easier access. She didn't miss the delighted look on her date's face.

After all, it was a date, wasn't it? Probably the best date she'd ever had. Nobody had ever treated her with such respect, and yet with such erotic forcefulness. She'd never been so desperate to fuck a guy so soon after meeting him.

After giving her another sip of wine, he readied another roll. "What's your favorite thing about sucking a cock?"

Marcy's chin dropped. His provocative frankness made her so uncomfortable, yet at the same time, so thrilled. How did he do that?

"Is it the feel of a man's warm, smooth flesh sliding between your lips?" he asked. "Or is it the satisfaction of his hot, bitter cream on your tongue when you finally make him come? Or maybe it's because that's the one time you have complete control over a man?"

She licked her lips as she pondered the question, imagining all the ways her mouth would enjoy him as she pleased him.

Feeling a little sassy, she answered, "Can it be a little of all three?"

"Nothing turns me on more than an honest woman," he said, chuckling.

With his finger circling the opening to her pussy, he waved the small brown cylinder in symmetric circles, red pepper jelly dripping onto the linen tablecloth.

Pushing the wrap toward her, he said, "Don't bite it. Suck it like you are going to suck my dick."

Marcy's desire shot into the stratosphere. Her pussy gushed and her tits were on fire. She couldn't wait!

When he placed the end of the roll in her open mouth, she fixed a sultry gaze on him and leaned forward, showing how much she could take. When she felt the long morsel clear the opening to her throat, she closed her lips around his fingers. He cocked a brow as she drew back slowly. Then she rocked gently to and fro, imagining it was his cock fucking her mouth, even though she was sure his cock would be considerably larger and more silky.

Meanwhile, his middle finger was twisting its way into her pussy while the pad of his thumb grazed repeatedly over her engorged nub. The tightness in her belly was telling her that it wasn't going to be long before she would lose control, right here in the most high-class restaurant in the city.

She scanned the window, watching the reflections of the people behind her for any sign they knew what he was doing to her. All of them were absorbed in their own little worlds.

"You are a beautiful woman, Marcy," he said. His voice was full of adoration, and she whimpered around the ersatz penis that he was using to fuck her mouth. A second finger stretched her pussy. "Show me how much more beautiful you are when you come."

With another whimper, she nodded, grabbing the edge of the table for support. She knew she was going to do it. She wanted to please this marvelous man. She was going to come for him right here in front of everyone.

Just then, the redheaded sommelier returned. Marcy tried to pull away, but Dr. Kittredge's husband hooked his fingers in her pussy to hold her in place, pressing his thumbnail into her clit. She whined in pain.

"Look at me, Marcy!" he demanded. His tone was quiet but insistent.

She stared at him helplessly while the steward refilled the glass. From the corner of her eye, Marcy could see the young woman glancing down at the roll he was sliding seductively between her lips. His thumb was working its magic between her legs again, his two fingers plunging in out of her. The thought of coming in front of an audience was more erotic than she would've imagined. She wasn't sure she could stop herself, even if she'd wanted to.

"You can do it," he coaxed her while the wine steward watched. "Come for both of us. She wants to see how beautiful you are, too."

The redheaded woman stood by their table, seemingly transfixed by the sight of Marcy fellating her appetizer and shuddering as her cheeks grew redder and sweat popped out on her forehead.

"Yes, that's right. It's growing inside you, isn't it?" he said.

She nodded quickly. Her breaths were coming quicker, tiny squeaks escaping around the brie wrap as that tightness in her belly twisted into something that could come unraveled at any moment.

Then he extended his pinky, sliding it underneath to nuzzle her tiny, crinkled pucker. The tingles emanating from that single, delicate touch sparked an avalanche of chills racing across her skin. The tightness in her belly finally sprung. A weak wail escaped from around the brie roll.

"She's gorgeous," the young woman next to her sighed, causing a fresh effusion of tingles to sweep through Marcy.

Dr. Kittredge's husband said, "Take another bite of your appetizer, dear."

Marcy bit into the roll, then groaned at the emptiness when he withdrew his fingers from her pussy. She saw the smear of her juices when he pulled his hand from under the table and wiped his fingers around the inside of the wine glass. Then he handed the glass up to the young woman.

"I think this glass is dirty."

"Yes, sir," the girl said with a smirk, taking the glass and swirling the wine while she sniffed the edge. "I'll take care of this personally, sir."

As she walked away, he laid a hundred dollar bill on the table. "Let's go, Marcy. We're done here."

"But...but, is that all, sir?" she said, unsure whether she'd done something wrong. She no longer cared about the grade. She wanted him.

He leaned across the table with a hard, narrow-eyed stare. "What did I tell you about questions?"

Hanging her head, she said, "I'm sorry, sir."

"I have a room reserved at the hotel across the street. We can get room service later if you're hungry," he said. "I need to fuck you. Now."

Marcy drew in a sharp breath. Then she grinned, chewing on her lower lip.

Mr. Morrison, or whoever he was, stood and pulled out Marcy's chair. With a hand on her lower back he practically shoved her through the restaurant and out to the elevator lobby. She caught a wink from the maitre d' as they passed.

One of the modern glass elevators arrived almost immediately. Dr. Kittredge's husband pushed her into it, then turned around and swept his hands down all fifty-one buttons.

"Sir? What are you--"

Marcy shrieked when he grabbed her hair, jerking her head back and clasping his hand around her throat. His grip was gentle but threatening. She stared at him, terrified.

"One more question and my belt is going to peel a layer of skin off that pretty little ass of yours."

She shivered as chills spread through her. The last time her father had spanked her was when she was thirteen.

"Y-yes, sir," she croaked.

Dr. Kittredge's husband said, "When I said I needed to fuck you now, I mean, now!"

He released her hair and her throat. The elevator descended one floor. He slipped the spaghetti straps off her shoulders. Curling his fingers into the neckline, he yanked it down, exposing her breasts.

"Oh, God!" she whimpered when his hands covered her small domes, squeezing them and tugging at the tiny brown nipples. They were ultra-sensitive. She had nearly come a few times when her boyfriends played with her little boobies.

He told her, "Bend over, put your hands on the glass, and stick that delightful butt of yours out for me."

She did as she was told, laying her hands flat on the glass and looking down on the half dozen ant-sized people in the lobby fifty-two floors below. She did a few quick calculations. They probably had about two or three minutes before anyone could see her. The building was new, and many of the floors were unoccupied. This time on a Tuesday night, there shouldn't be many people around anyway.

Her date--or should she now call him her 'lover'?--reached under her dress, wiggling her panties down to her knees. When she pulled them together to let the panties fall, he slapped her tender thighs.

"Ow! That hurt!"

"It's going to hurt more if you keep trying to second-guess me. Don't move unless I tell you, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

He kicked her feet as far apart as they would go with the panties stretched tight between her knees. She heard the rip of his zipper, then the hushed slither of his pants falling. He lifted her dress, and she drew in a long, heated breath when he slid his cockhead up and down her syrupy slit.

She had started counting off the seconds between floors, then felt herself spreading open, stretching around his massive head, and she couldn't think of anything else.

"Fuck!" she gasped. "You...you're so big."

He laughed softly. "Not really. The panties around your knees help. Even with that, you're tighter than any virgin my wife ever sent me."

Marcy couldn't understand what would make a woman okay with her husband fucking young girls. It appeared as if she was whoring her students out to him like she'd done with Marcy. Was he making her do it? Had she cheated on him and this was her penance?

She started to ask how many girls his wife had sent to him, and why. Then she remembered his warning. While the idea of a little spanking was enticing, she wasn't in the mood to get her naked bottom whipped with a belt the way her father used to do it.

With a firm hold on her narrow hips, he pulled her onto his cock a little at a time. She gasped and grunted with each small thrust, watching the lobby steadily grow nearer.

Finally, she felt his pubes scratch her puffy labia. Maybe it was because her legs weren't as wide, but she'd never felt such a satisfying fullness.

"Fuck me, sir," she begged. He pulled back slowly, and she hissed, "Yesss..." when he shoved himself back in hard enough to bang his pubis against her bottom.

He told her, "I love your long legs. Your whoring little pussy is just the right height."

"I...I'm not a whore, sir," she objected.

"Trading sex for grades?" He slapped her butt as he slammed his cock into her and she yelped with the delicious sting on her fanny and the tingles fanning out from her pussy. "That's what a pathetic whore does."

She squealed again when he smacked her butt and rammed his cock home.

"I don't care about the grade anymore," she whimpered. "Just fuck me, okay? Use me?"

He paused. The elevator door closed and the car dropped another floor.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "Please. Don't stop. I...I want...I want you to make me please you, sir."

"Holy fuck," he whispered. He began rocking inside her, slow and steady.

"Harder, sir!" she begged.

He slapped her bottom, a little more firmly than before, telling her gruffly, "You don't get to decide how I fuck you, cunt!"

"Yes, sir. It's just...we're getting closer. They'll be able to see me soon."

He laughed. "You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself in front of our red-haired friend upstairs, didn't you?"

Ashamedly, she said, "Y-yes, sir. I...I never did that before. It was embarrassing, but it was..." She couldn't force herself to say it.

"It was exciting, wasn't it? You got off on it."

"Yes..." she admitted.

He slapped her butt and started fucking her harder, faster. "It made you feel sexy to show somebody what a lewd and nasty little slut you really are."

"Yes!" she yelled.

Suddenly, he broke out in uproarious laughter, giving her buns a few more smacks as he drove his cock into her soupy cunt. Then he leaned over her back, reaching around to take hold of her breasts, squeezing and tweaking them. She moaned when he kissed the bare skin of her shoulder while he fucked her hard and steady.

With his finger paying attention to her needy breasts, the raking of his cockhead along her inner walls and the rhythmical thumping against her vulva, Marcy felt that ball begin to tighten deep in her belly.

"Don't worry about your grades," he told her. "You and I are going to enjoy each other tonight. Before I'm finished with you tomorrow morning, I'll tell you everything you need to know to get whatever you want from my perverted wife."

Marcy twisted her head back. Between staggered breaths she asked, "R-really?"

"Yes. Really," he said. "Right now, I think my beautiful young slut wants to come, doesn't she?"

"Y-y-yes, s-sir"

He ramped up the energy in his cock while his fingers pinched and tugged at her nipples.

"Come for me, Marcy," he said.

"Yes!"

"Do it! Now!" he demanded.

"Yes! I..I..Ohgod! Ohgod! Oh! Oh..." Her fingers clawed uselessly at the glass wall as her body was flooded with waves of euphoric splendor. She shuddered with each surge of chills.

Her knees became wobbly. She thought she might fall. Her incredible lover curled his strong arm around her waist to hold her steady.

"Good girl," he said. "I'm so proud of you."

Marcy felt a glow inside from his praise.

"Please, sir. Come inside me," she pleaded.

"I want one more from you," he told her.

Another one? She had already enjoyed two orgasms--more than any other date she'd ever had.

"I...I don't know if--"

"Marcy!" he snapped. "You will come for me. See that man in the lobby? The one with the gray suit?"

She peered through the glass. They were only about ten floors up now.

"Ohmygod!" He was looking up at her. She felt that tight ball deep in her belly twisting like a rubber band.

"He knows what you're doing, Marcy. He can probably see your lovely tits."

"Please! Please, sir! Hurry!"

Three quick, fierce slaps landed on her buns made her scream in pain.

"If you don't come by the time we get to the bottom, I'm going to invite him to enjoy your pussy all the way back up. Then we'll start over."

"Ohgod!"

"Or, you can show him how beautiful you are when you come."

The arm under her waist shifted, his fingers finding her pussy, sliding gently over her most tender little pearl.

She hissed, "Yesss..."

A woman walked up next to the man in the gray suit. She followed his gaze. She said something to the man and he pointed--pointed at Marcy, half-naked in the glass elevator, with her pussy getting reamed by the wonderful blue-eyed man she'd met less than an hour before while his talented fingers danced over her clit. Marcy was close enough to see the woman smiling at her and that made her moan as the tiny ball in her belly wound tighter and tighter until she could hardly stand the tension.

Something wet and chilly dribbled down the crack of her ass, making her shiver. She felt her lover's finger follow the path trickling along the valley of her ass. She shivered again when the wet, slippery finger teased her asshole.

"Have you ever had a man here?" he asked, pressing his finger more firmly.

"N-no, sir," she whimpered, unable to stop herself from wiggling her ass, willing that probing digit to push harder.

"Tonight, Marcy," he said quietly. "Tonight, I will have your ass."

"Yes!" she cried out, somehow knowing he would make her enjoy every minute.

Then his finger broke through, twisting deeper into her rectum. The taut ball in Marcy's belly flew apart and she screamed with the release, tossing her head back. Tendrils of pleasure sprouted simultaneously from that marvelous cock filling her pussy and the sweet finger plumbing her ass, climbing her spine to explode at the base of her skull. Her body quivered and shook with the sensual overload.

Just when Marcy thought the moment couldn't be any more perfect, she heard his growl, and he lunged once, then again, ramming himself deep into her pussy. A warmth like molten gold bloomed inside her. Tears gathered in her eyes. She felt...beautiful.

When her senses returned, they were one floor above the bottom. Her lover lifted her upright. He covered her breasts and lifted the straps back onto her shoulders. As the elevator lowered itself to the ground, he took her in his arms and kissed her, passionately. She could feel herself melting under his lips.

"You are an amazing woman," he said. "We're going to have such fun together."

"Yes, sir." She was giddy.

He gave her another quick kiss. Then, with his hand at her lower back, he led her out of the elevator and across the lobby, past the man in the gray suit and the woman. They both grinned at her and she winked at them.

"Michael," her lover said as he escorted her through the front door into the cool night air.

"What?"

"My name. It's Michael."

Two days later, Marcy was slumped in her seat on the back row of Dr. Kittredge's 2:30PM applied calculus class. It was her last class of the semester. In the past, Marcy had always sat on the second row--close enough to be seen, but not so close as to make herself noticed.

Sitting on the second row, her professor wouldn't have seen anything if she wore a short skirt and spread her legs without any panties on.

About a minute before time for the class to adjourn, Dr. Kittredge said in her usual snippy tone, "Miss Lewis, I will see you in my office immediately after class."

"Sure, Lisa."

Dr. Kittredge's mouth fell open. The whole class turned and stared at Marcy, waiting gleefully for the inevitable evisceration.

They were surprised when their professor turned sharply with an aggravated huff and marched out the door moments before the bell rang. The clip-clop tattoo of her heels on the tile floor echoed down the hall. With two dozen pairs of amazed eyes on her, a cool, calm Marcy lifted herself from the desk and ambled along behind.

In her office, Dr. Kittredge sat primly in her plush leather office chair. Marcy kicked the door closed behind herself, then came around the ornate hardwood desk and hopped up on the edge, dangling her feet.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Lewis? Your seat is over there." The professor pointed to the two wood desk chairs on the opposite side.

"No, I'm good. Unless you want to move me. But that would mean you'd have to touch me, wouldn't it?"

Her professor glared at her. Her face turned a shade of red. She didn't respond.

Instead, she said, "Do you care to offer some measly excuse for your tawdry, whorish behavior in class before I mark your final grade to an 'F'? Or perhaps you'd like to beg forgiveness."

"I'm not the one who's going to beg," Marcy said with a sly smile. "Have you talked to Michael?"

Dr. Kittredge gasped. "He...he told you his name?"

"He told me lots of things. What did he tell you, Lisa?"

Incensed, her professor said, "Miss Lewis! You will refer to me as--"

"You didn't answer, Lisa. What did Michael tell you about what we did?"

"Don't interrupt me, you miserable pipsqueak of a--"

Marcy burst into laughter. "He didn't tell you a damned thing, did he?"

Lowering her gaze, Dr. Kittredge answered quietly, "No."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

"He...he's never acted like this. He knows I..." She looked up at Marcy, a helplessness in her eyes. "Will you tell me? What happened? Did he...?"

"You want to know if he fucked me."

Dr. Kittredge gave a shallow nod.

Marcy pushed her hand under her short skirt, tilting her hips forward. Withdrawing her hand, she showed her professor the gooey semen on her fingers, then waved it under her nose.

The older woman inhaled the lusty concoction and moaned softly. When she leaned forward, sticking her tongue out to taste it, Marcy jerked her hand away.