At the very moment I was gasping for air, it occurred to me that the elevator would more than likely have cameras installed in it. I pictured the hotel staff gathering around watching Quentin fuck my throat, with me on my knees, worshipping his cock. I imagined the onlookers high-fiving each other, and I made a squeaky noise of protest as my Master continued to take my mouth and use it for his own pleasure.
The experience made me feel, at the same time, humiliated and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. A part of me wanted him to stop, wanted to never have agreed to do this in a public place, but the part of me that took over wanted to be his slut, wanted to be taken by him whenever and wherever he saw fit. I liked giving the control over to him and letting him use me like this. It gave me a high that doing what was expected of me never had.
“I’m going to shoot my load down your throat, you little bitch.”
I managed a slight nod, but I felt weak again, dizzy with lust, and I let go of my hands behind my back and dug my fingers into his thighs, holding tight to steady myself.
His legs were muscular and solid as tree trunks. I clung to them, and when I felt his seed coursing through his penis and finally down the back of my throat, I felt a peace and happiness that I’d never experienced before.
He pulled out an inch or two. “Clean it.”
I lovingly laved my tongue around his softening penis, licking and swallowing every drop of cum on him, which wasn’t much because he’d deposited most of it deep at the back of my throat. What there was tasted salty with a hint of sweet, precisely what I would have expected to come out of him.
Removing himself from my mouth he tucked his dick back in his underwear and his shirt back in his pants. Then he pressed a button on the elevator that made it start moving again.
I wiped my hand across my mouth, trying to clean myself up, then I tapped him on the leg and stretched out my hand for him to help me to my feet.
He winked at me. “You stay right there, princess.”
Before I could process what he was saying, we went up two floors and the door opened. Two businessmen stood in front of us, arms crossed, waiting for the elevator. When they saw me on my knees, their eyes lit up and I saw one of them bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
My face felt like it was on fire, and when Quentin turned and offered me a hand I considered not taking it, but struggling to stand up on my own after rejecting his help would only make me look even more foolish. I took his hand, stood up as straight as I could and said, “Thank you.” Looking past the men, I kept my eyes forward, and without saying another word, followed Quentin to the hotel room.
Even the way he inserted and pulled back his key card had a sexual undertone to it, and I wondered if he had perverted my brain for life. “Come in,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just humiliated me in public.
I crossed over the threshold into the hotel room, which was beautiful and luxurious, all clean, modern lines and muted colors. Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, I asked, “What the hell was that back there?” I hooked a thumb in the direction of the elevator.
“To what are you referring?” The opaque look on his face made me want to punch him.
“The way you wouldn’t help me up off the floor. You wanted me to be humiliated, wanted those men to see me, to know that I ‘serviced’ you in that elevator.”
“So what if I did?”
“Ugh! You’re such a perv! And you know that they probably have cameras in there. There are probably people who work in the hotel, watching that right now and laughing.”
He arched a brow. “The cameras. I hadn’t thought of that, but that adds a nice touch, doesn’t it?”
I glared at him.
“As for being a perv, that’s old news. In fact, I was under the impression that was what you liked about me. Come here.” He beckoned me with his index finger.
Slowly, I plodded toward him, a frown on my face.
He took me in his arms, the way I had wanted him to when we were first alone in the elevator. He positioned my arms around his neck then held me around my waist, and even though I’d fantasized about this moment a thousand times, the real thing felt so much better. “What do you think those men thought when they saw you on your knees?”
“That I was a slut.”
“And?” His voice was a velvet whisper against my ear. His hot breath made me strain against my clothes. I wanted them off, wanted nothing between the two of us.
“I don’t know,” I hedged.
“Yes, you do. Don’t be lazy. You don’t need to be coy with me. What else were they thinking?” he demanded.
“They wished they could fuck my mouth.”
“Good girl. That’s right. They were thinking how lucky I was to have a beautiful girl like you on her knees, sucking me off in an elevator. How they wished it was their cocks in your throat.”
“Yes.” I knew my pussy was dripping now, and my nipples strained against my bra.
He reached up and pinched one of my nipples hard, and I whimpered with a combination of pleasure and pain.
“See? Doesn’t it feel good to embrace your inner slut?” he growled.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you like knowing there are men out there who are probably going to jack off to thoughts of you tonight, if they haven’t already gone to the bathroom and done it already?”
On one level, the thought sickened me. It was sleazy and crass and disgusting, but on a deeper, more primal level, the thought of starring in men’s fantasies made me hot. How could he know me so well? How could he possibly know these depraved corners of my mind? I certainly didn’t tell him that. How could I, when I hadn’t even realized it myself?
“I didn’t hear you,” he warned.
“Yes, I like it.”
That seemed to appease him for the moment. “Good girl. I think you’ve been so good that you earned those kisses you wanted.” Then he dipped his head and planted those gorgeous lips of his on mine.
I was so aroused that I thought that almost anything he did now would make me come, so I dug my fingers in his dark hair and kissed him back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Whether it was because it had been such a long time coming, or whether he was really that good of a kisser I wasn’t sure, but Quentin’s lips left a scorching trail of lust wherever they touched and I couldn’t get enough. Darting into my mouth, he penetrated me with his tongue. I devilishly sucked on it, but he pulled back slightly, letting me know he would be the one leading this dance.
He tugged on my lip before leaving a trail of hot kisses down my jaw all the way to the hollow of my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him, fearing this moment wouldn’t last. Giving me a final squeeze, he slapped my bottom and stepped back.
“I’d like you to undress for me,” he said, walking over to the bed to sit down.
“Here?” I stalled, remembering that he’d never seen me naked before. I had successfully avoided the cam sessions, and even though we’d been intimate in numerous ways, I’d never shown my body to him.
My soul yes, but my body no.
My body was something I was neither proud nor ashamed of. Average in many ways, and about ten or fifteen pounds heavier than I would have preferred, but I did have an hourglass shape. Each summer I survived bathing suit season, and every few years took advantage of a gym’s January specials. I usually only went a few times before the rest of my life got in the way. Mostly I relied on my walks with Felix to keep me in shape.
Since I knew I would be meeting Quentin, I got a full wax a few days ago, so at least I had confidence in the grooming aspects of my appearance. In a moment, he would be able to inspect every inch of me, the way a farmer would inspect his livestock.
Quentin held up his wrist to look at an invisible watch. “Anytime…”
I started to unfasten my skirt, but he held up a finger. “Not so fast. Put on a show for me.”
A show? My gut tightened. I was no exhibitionist, and unlike Shelby, I let the whole pole-dancing classes craze pass me by. I gulped, and slowly let my skirt fall to the floor then began unbuttoning my blouse, trying to make it as tantalizing as possible, but fearing that I was failing miserably.