As soon as I penetrated the sweltering heat between her lips, I sprung to life across her tongue, engorging with the very blood that fled my extremities until her mouth strained to contain me. First, my eyes rolled back in sheer bliss at the all-consuming warmth, and then at the skill with which she applied it. With each stifled moan that vibrated through her throat and into my flesh, she not only enhanced her raw sexual value but left me increasingly curious about the kind of bad decisions that lead a woman like this here, of all places.
Pulled free from a descending haze of my own, I looked down to marvel at her enthusiasm, only to find those eyes still locked on mine. Damn, the girl learned quickly. Flashing a glint of bravado that endeared her all the more, she pulled me briefly from her pursed lips and asked again, just as earlier in the day, “You like, yes?”
As if empowered by my approval, she immediately doubled her efforts, tightening her grip and flicking her tongue in playfully erratic lashes. With the slightest shift, she adjusted her angle and drove down with even greater force, burying my entire length and swallowing deeply to engage muscles that sent me reeling.
Only once I opened my eyes again did I notice the burning attention cast down from our host and his illustrious, voyeuristic gathering—a handful of whom wore outfits virtually identical to those ladies on the floor. It seemed that even a few fellow guests had opted to stay behind and ogle, having long since cast their own conquests aside.
While it has never been my style to put on a public exhibition, it’s not like I could drag her to a more secluded location. As much as I cringed at the barbaric notion, she was not mine to take. I had to respect the reality that, in such a strictly supervised environment, she was borrowed property to be enjoyed at the watchful discretion of the master.
With the reasoning centers of my brain already thoroughly frozen and my inhibition drunken at best, our audience could have ordered pizza and called over friends for all I cared. I had a hotter, tighter, and infinitely more gripping engagement ready to drop in my lap.
“Get off that cold floor,” I urged, coaxing myself free of her insatiable grip and ordering her upright—vulnerable, exposed, and simpering at my whim. “Turn around.” Of all the commands so far laid down, I found it fascinating that only this one prompted a distinct moment of hesitation.
“Yes, sir.” She spoke to the ground as she turned away, tightening every muscle as if preparing for an unseen but inevitable assault.
Leaning forward, I rested one outstretched hand over the small of her back. Feeling the raised lash marks for the first time only triggered further anger toward any beast that would so irreparably desecrate such a treasure. My other hand dug firmly into her hip as I pushed forward, forcing her over at the waist and then lifting the tattered dress to expose her entirely.
With her legs spread slightly, she struggled to maintain balance against the pressure of my palm, sparking the more wicked recesses of my imagination even as I battled to differentiate myself from the men behind those marks. Try as I might, I simply couldn’t help myself. Did that make me a monster as well?
MALEDICTION: Rise of the Crimson Confessions.