She Likes It Rough Page 6
Is this how he treats all his women? This is ridiculous…
The woman outside kept knocking on the door what seemed like every thirty seconds just to tell me to, “Hurry, Mr. Stone is waiting!” Well Mr. Stone can fucking wait, because I can’t even get my ass into this dress.
The thing was so short, it rides all the way up to just below my crotch. I had to tug down on the thing and hold it there just so my ass didn’t fall out the bottom.
When the dress is stretched enough to hold itself in place, I bend over to slip on the pair of black pumps sitting on the cold tile floor. My toes curl inside at the tips, totally scrunched and barely fitting.
As I clomp across the bathroom floor, suffering the pain of the two black vices on my toes, I catch sight of a glinting object next to the sink. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
It’s a gorgeous diamond necklace with an intricate garland, catching the light and sparkling as I step toward it. It’s the most expensive jewelry I have ever seen, or held.
When I clasp it around my neck, it hangs naturally, elegantly resting over my cleavage. Immediately, my anger toward Mr. Stone for the tight dress and small shoes fades to the back of my mind. I do a sexy pose with my round ass toward the mirror and give it a little smack. I’m a damn fine looking chick.
Feeling hot and confident, I open the door of the bathroom and see that annoying bitch staring at me.
“No, no. That won’t do,” she says, pinching at parts of my hair and fixing them. “Come here—pucker your lips.” She grabs me by the shoulder and applies a thick coat of crimson lipstick. With a heavy sigh, she tells me, “That will have to do. Now, come with me.”
The bitch clutches my wrist and pulls me farther down the corridor. My black heels stomp along the polished wooden floor until we reach the end. With two hands, the bitch pushes against the swinging double doors leading into the dining room.
And then I see him. Mr. Stone is standing beside a long dining table draped in white cloth, one hand resting on the polished wood of his chair, looking cool and magnificent. The room is dimly lit with wall candles that illuminate the glimmering wine glasses in front of me.
I have to stop myself from wincing at the pain of each step as I walk toward him. It doesn’t help that I’m not used to walking in heels—especially ones that cut off the circulation to my feet.
“Glad you could make it, Claire,” he says, pulling out a chair next to his. “Come, have a seat.”
I can feel the tight dress riding up my thigh again as I squat down into the cushioned seat.
“Tha—thank you for inviting me…” I say, as a man in a tuxedo comes up beside me, pouring a small glass of white wine. Mr. Stone nods toward it, urging me to give it a taste.
“How do you like it?” He asks as the wine kisses my crimson lips. Setting the glass back down, a red stain is left on the glass where I had sipped it.
“It’s quite goo—“
“She’ll have the bottle, then.” He motions to our waiter, and he gives a nod of affirmation. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you to dine with me tonight…” Mr. Stone takes a seat at the head of the table, maintaining eye contact with me sitting at the corner.
“Ah, here it is!” Mr. Stone claps his hands together at the two men approaching with covered silver platters.
“Roast duck, sir…” says one of the men, placing the platters in front of us while the other pours me a full glass of the wine from before. Mr. Stone notices me staring down at the beautifully plated food in front of me, practically salivating.
“Please, don’t let me stop you. We can discuss business after our meal,” he says.
Business? What exactly does he mean? What the hell is all this, anyway? I take a bite of the duck, savoring the tenderness of it as it melts in my mouth. After that, a small sip of wine, looking everywhere but at Mr. Stone as we continue to eat in silence. This all just feels so damn awkward.
“How do you like it?” He asks suddenly.
“It’s so delicious!” I say, realizing that I haven’t completely finished swallowing. That must have looked so unattractive.
“Cover your mouth if you’re going to speak and chew at the same time.”
“S—sorry, Mr. Stone,” I say, catching myself stammering. It takes a lot to trip me up. His sudden rudeness has taken me completely off guard.
“And the wine?”
I want to tell him how amazing everything tastes, how much I appreciate his hospitality, but I end up choking a bit, hacking and coughing into my hands instead. I have to down the rest of the wine just to clear my throat.
“If you’re going to insist on speaking to me in such a primitive manner, then I’d prefer for you to just be silent.” And so we remain in silence for the rest of the meal, and I order two more glasses. If Mr. Stone is going to invite me to dinner and then treat me with so much disrespect, I may as well try to enjoy myself.
“Now—your job as a valet, do you like it?” He says finally, after the two waiters are coming to clear the table.
“It pays the bills…” I say, pretending to be uninterested in our conversation.
“Listen—Claire, is it?” I continue sipping my large glass of wine, fixating my attention on the cream colored wall in front me. “I have something of a proposition for you…”
“A prop—“ I try to say, but he waves a hand in the air to silence me.
“Interrupt me again and you’ll never get to hear it.”
What an asshole. As much as I want to just get up and leave right now, Mr. Stone has me slightly intrigued. Growing up in the ghetto, my mom was never around. But I’m smart enough to know that if a billionaire is offering you something, you listen.
“You have something I… desire…”
“D—Desire?” Fuck, I’m stuttering again. The look on his face when I interrupt him again is one of total annoyance. What is it about this guy that makes me so anxious? I’m constantly around so many powerful men, but something about Mr. Stone is just so… different.
“It’s a rare thing…” Mr. Stone pauses a moment to sip his wine with the air of a true high-class gentleman. It’s obvious that he has grown up rich. I wonder what that’s like, going your whole life never having to wonder about money. The sound of the polished glass against the dining table breaks the silence before he starts again.
“A rare thing that I find myself in the presence of such elegant beauty,” he says.
If he was anyone else, I wouldn’t have let it go to my head. But something about the sincerity in his eyes makes me want to believe every word. Keeping his eyes fixed and unblinking, he continues,
“The truth of the matter is that I… desire you.” The words seem to echo across the suite. He wants me?
Mr. Stone folds his hands in front of him, and the waiter standing by reacts immediately to refill his wine.
“This is my proposition,” he says, tilting his head down slightly and taking a more serious posture. “You will accompany me to the bedroom and give me a child.”
Why does his proposition sound a lot more like a demand?
“Mr. Stone?” My voice is trembling.
“I’m not finished,” he says, “Do this for me, Claire, and your days as a valet girl are over.”
I am completely taken aback—yet, desire burns between my thighs at his words.
“No more servicing people like me for mere scraps. Because you’ll be one of them. Money is no object for me. Any desire you have, consider it fulfilled.” He reaches for his glass, casually swirling the dark red liquid between two fingers at the top of the stem. He raises one eyebrow and says, “Are my terms agreeable?”
What woman in her right mind could turn down such an offer? I’d have a dozen kids with Mr. Stone to live the freedom that comes with that kind of money.
“Y—yes,” I squeak, lip trembling. My knees sway restlessly beneath the table; my panties are dripping at the thought of Mr. Stone entering me, filling me with his warm s
eed and granting me a life of luxury.
“Yes, what?”
“It is agreeable.”
And with that, Mr. Stone nods to yet another man dressed in black standing in the doorway and gets up from his seat. He adjusts his necktie and straightens his jacket before turning away from to exit the dining room.
The bodyguard marches over to me, extends a hand, saying, “Mr. Stone would like me to show you to his bedroom.”
******
“Mr. Stone would like you to enter… undressed,” says the bodyguard when we arrive at the bedroom door. I’m not sure how to react, so I just continue staring, unblinking, until he turns away from me, saying, “Mr. Stone doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”
Did he really want me to get naked right here in the middle of the hallway?
“Just leave your garments on the floor and I will collect them after you,” he says, sounding impatient. Well, shit. I mustn’t keep Mr. Stone waiting.
The black tube dress slips off easier than it had gone on. I step out of it and unclasp my bra, letting it fall and land across the toes of my heels. My black lace panties slip along my silky legs as I’m bent over, offering a perfect view of my bare ass to anyone behind me.
“Leave the heels on,” the man barks. “And the necklace.”
And with that, I step out of the mess of clothes on the floor, turn the handle, and enter the darkness in nothing but come-fuck-me pumps. If this were for anybody other than Mr. Stone, I would consider myself a genuine slut.
The air smells subtly of musk and fire. Flickering candlelight illuminates my pale, bare skin and perky tits.
My eyes work to make out the dark shapes of the room. The only thing I can recognize is the king size bed topped with satin sheets that seem to glow in the dim light.
Where is Mr. Stone?
“Get on your knees,” says a commanding voice from the corner, and I feel compelled to obey. I get down, slowly, letting my knees settle into the soft carpet as a figure approaches from the side.
And then Mr. Stone is standing over me. The rippling muscles of his perfect body seem to flex and bulge in the dancing candlelight. His torso appears to be cut from marble, masterfully carved to showcase every masculine feature.
Droplets of sweat pool between the crevices of his six-pack as my eyes lead themselves, down, down…
His massive cock stands erect before me, teeming with all the virility I’d expect from a man of his stature. The girth and size of him stirs a kind of sudden excitement—I want to pounce Mr. Stone, wrap my legs tight around the bulk of his waist and ride him until he relinquishes his seed inside me.
I stare up Mr. Stone, lips of crimson trembling at the enormity of him. I feel so small, so weak… I am powerless.
“Suck.”
The words echo in the dark. My body moves on its own. What choice do I have but to obey?
One hand moves to cup his ball sac as the other wraps loose fingers around the shaft. His pulse beats in my hand as I gently guide his cock, bringing the tip to my mouth.
My soft, wet lips part and wrap themselves around the head. I take special care to cover my teeth as my head lowers itself slowly, effortlessly.
The flat of my tongue slips along Mr. Stone’s cock as I make my way down, drooling bits of saliva that roll down the shaft, all the way down to the hand massaging his balls.
“Mm—mmmm…” I moan at the taste of him, stroking his cock and lowering my head down farther, deeper…
My tongue curls around the neck, licking and teasing him while my hands work his whole dick. I tickle his scrotum, stuffing my mouth full, forcing him down, and down…
Then the head collides with the back of my throat and I fight to suppress the gag reflex. Spurts of thick saliva trickle over his cock as I retch and choke at the sheer size of him.
But I am determined to get him all the way down…
Dark tears of mascara roll down my flushed cheeks when his giant dick pushes past my tongue and enters my esophagus. I gag some more, but hold him there, squeezing his girth in the tightness of my throat.
“A—Agh!” Mr. Stone groans, throwing one hand on top of my head and gripping my hair tight.
I suck and slurp and stroke the length of his cock with my whole throat, pushing deeper, trying desperately to ignore the pain and the urge to breathe.
The tip of my nose grazes the bulge of his hard abdomen. I’m so close…
Mr. Stone’s grip on my hair tightens and his head tilts back. I slobber and slurp along his whole dick, now lodged in the depths very depths of my throat. I tense every muscle in my neck, fighting every urge and impulse to eject him.
I place a gentle hand on top of Mr. Stone’s clenched fist around a clump of hair, looking up at him through watering, blood shot eyes.
“Push…” I say through gargled words, nodding slightly. I apply a bit of pressure to the back of his hand, encouraging Mr. Stone to shove me down onto his cock.
And with that, Mr. Stone grips clamps tight around my skull, pushing me down the rest of the way.
My nose squishes with his abdomen and my airways are completely cut off. My tongue laps at his ball sac, drooling and licking as I play with them in my palm.
My head bobs up and down at the force of Mr. Stone’s whim, pulling me up along his shaft by the hair up to the head, then plunging me back down until my lips are wrapped around the base.
I choke and gargle his entire length, sucking and squeezing every inch of him, pleasuring him to the very best of my ability. Then I feel the slightest twitch at the very back of my throat and I know he must be getting close.
“Ungh!” He reels, lifting me by the chin with both hands to throw me off his stiff dick just to stop himself from cumming right then in my mouth.
Thick strands of spit cling to his cock as my throat relinquishes him. Beads of precum dribble from the head as Mr. Stone winces, barely able to contain himself.
Free to breathe at last, gasping for air, I can’t help but giggle at the though of him losing his control like that. Perhaps this is his first time getting a blowjob from a real woman.
“You think that was funny, do you?” He asks, scowling down at me. The look on his face is enough to get snap up straight.
“I—I’m sorry—I just—“
“Stand up,” he says, and I do so immediately. As I rise, my breasts are wet, gleaming in a mess of saliva and dribbling precum. I wobble a bit upon standing, forgetting that I’m still wearing heels.
“Turn around.” His voice is cold and callous. I study him a brief moment, wondering what he is planning. But I don’t dare spend more than a second before complying with his wish.
With my back turned, I feel a warm hand sliding along my sides, rolling over my curves, from the top of my ribcage down the small of my back. He pauses a moment when his palm reaches the top of my ass.
“Bend over.”
I twist my neck to peek over my shoulder, timid and hesitant.
“Did I say you could turn around? Bend over. Now.”
And I do as commanded, once again. The heat of his palm caresses my round ass, slipping between my cheeks and brushing against my thighs. His hand lifts a moment, then—
SMACK!
I stagger at the force of his hand landing square against my ass and yelp. Did Mr. Stone just… spank me?
SMACK!
Another blow lands hard against the other cheek and I wince at the pain.
SMACK!
“Ungh!” My body writhes and I moan loud and long. My blond hair falls over my face, my legs shudder at the moist heat between my thighs.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
I fill the room with ecstatic wails, writhing, accepting my punishment. My pussy quivers and melts with every blow. Wet juices gush between my legs. Despite the intense, stinging pain, I find myself only wanting more…
But then Mr. Stone stops. He grips hard on my ass cheeks, spreading them apart with violent force.
My head droops and my eyes are covered by wet hair that clings to the sweat of my face.
“Answer me!” He yells, digging deeper into my ass cheeks with his fingertips and shaking.
“I—“
“You’re just a filthy fucking slut, aren’t you?”