I, Porn Star (I #1) (19 page)

21

NINE INCHES

He retreats and I
hear a click, the sound a handheld digital camera makes as it turns on. My
trepidation and shame return. My knees are together, but I feel the imprint of
his hands vividly on my thighs, reminding me how wide open I’ve been to his
digital eyes a few minutes ago.

The bed dips and
he prowls close. “Lower yourself down a little, I want to take the rest of your
clothes off.”

I scoot down and
silently raise my hands. I don’t know if my initiative pleases him. He catches
the hem of the half-Teddy and gently tugs it over my head. The blindfold
doesn’t budge even a fraction. I hear a soft whoosh as the scrap of lace and
silk is flung away. His breath catches. Then warm hands drift down the slopes
of my chest to cup my breasts.

“Fuck, I love
these. You have perfect breasts, Lucky. Perfectly fuckable.” He squeezes and
molds, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my nipples. My licked-dry pussy
dampens, my breath uselessly frazzled.

“Lie back,” he
growls. “Arms above your head. I’m going to tie your hands.”

I swallow the
protest that rises to my throat. We agreed on a few hard and fast exclusions.
But bondage, light or otherwise, wasn’t discussed. Disconcertion ramps
moderately high as I lie back and raise my arms to the headboard.

Firm ropes make
short work of securing me to the bed before his mouth closes over one nipple.
He sucks me hard and deep enough to flatten my nipple to the roof of his mouth.
The sensation arrows white-hot flames straight to my pussy.

His appreciative
groan as he suckles me fires me up even higher. Until a deeper hum of a camera
impinges my consciousness. I stiffen.

He stills,
releases my nipple. “You’re going to have to stop doing that, Lucky.”

“I can’t help it.
I can hear them moving.”

“A few of them
are programmed to track my motion. You’ll have to get used to them.” He catches
my stiff peak in between his fingers.

I gasp.
“I’ll…try.”

“You’ll do more
than try. I don’t want you tensing up when I fuck you.”

He replaces his
fingers with his tongue and flicks a straining nub several times. My breath
ruffles out and ends in a tiny scream.

Q continues to
lick and squeeze my breasts as he trails his fingers down my shuddering midriff
and stomach. “Open your legs. Unless I say otherwise, when you’re with me, I
want to see your pussy at all times. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

He trails lower,
then pauses to caress my bare pussy for a spell, before he slides his hands
between my legs. I’m wet and hot.

“Jesus. You’re
exquisite.” One finger slides inside. My snug, greedy flesh closes around his
digit. “And fucking
tight
.”

He latches onto
one breast as he slowly eases his finger back and forth. Within minutes, I’m
back on the brink. He increases the tempo of the friction between my legs, his
thumb mercilessly circling my clit.

At the back of my
mind, it registers that besides his mouth and his fingers, my body hasn’t
connected with any part of his. I’m about to experience my second
orgasm—subject to imminent permission sought and received—from a
man whose face and body are still alien to me.

The thought is demolished
beneath the juggernaut of my lust. Even the sounds of the cameras recede as I
gallop towards my blissful end. “Q, may I come?”

“I want to make
you wait. But I’m dying to fuck this amazing body of yours.”

“Is
that…permission?” I gasp as I try to hold on.

“What do you
think?”

I shake my head. “Please.
I don’t want to guess. Tell me.”

“Fucking hell,
every inch of you is addictive. Come, Lucky.”

My mind stops
functioning. Every instinct is arrowed between my legs as pure sensation takes
over. It’s a full minute before I realize the keening sound in the room is from
my throat. He continues to alternatively tease and lick my nipples until my
convulsions quiet to tiny tremors.

Then he drops a
kiss between my breasts. “Beautiful.”

A small frown
forms because the compliment sounds almost regretful. As if a precious thing is
already losing its shine.

I give a small
groan when his finger slides out of me. Then my frown gives way altogether when
he moves and I feel the brush of his thigh against mine for the first time.

You’re warm,” I
blurt stupidly.

A low laugh. “Did
you imagine me otherwise?”

“The…your voice,”
I whisper.

“You’ve felt my
hands. My mouth. You’re about to feel a whole lot more of me. Enough to know
I’m not a robot.”

“Can I…will I see
you?”

“Not yet,
firecracker. Tonight I just want you to
feel
me.”

I wonder at the
rationale behind that, but I deem it wise not to question it. He adjusts
himself next to me, and I really feel him for the first time. As I imagined
through all those meetings, his body is chiseled, hard from chest to thigh. In
between, the thickness of his cock registers against my leg. Without sight, I
can’t guess accurately at its size, but the length is enough to make me miss a
breath.

One hand caresses
my bound hands. My lower arms. Elbows. Armpit. When his hand trails down my
side, I jerk a little. I sense him pause, file the action away, before he
continues. It’s dawning on me with astonishing alarm how quickly he can take me
from sensible woman to quivering mess.

His impatient
hand parts my thighs, and I realize I squeezed them shut again after my second
orgasm. I let my legs fall open.

“Wider,” he
growls.

I comply.

He makes a rough
sound beneath his breath and leaves my side. In the next instant, he’s kneeling
between my legs, each ankle in his intractable hold. I’m yanked wider open, my
legs pushed back at the knees. I’m bound and wide open to him and there’s
nowhere to hide. I swallow and go with it because I have no choice. When the
camera tracking his move whirs, I struggle not to visibly cringe.

I feel him
staring at me. Between my legs. My breath grows increasingly choppy as he
remains silent for an eternity.

Eventually, his
breathing gruff, he releases one ankle.

The head of his
cock brushes my soaked heat. Up and down a few times before he slaps his heavy girth
against me. That’s the first inkling I get of Q’s size.

The second is
when he pushes his head inside me.

My body tenses
against the thick, hard invasion. He pauses for a handful of seconds. The hand trapping
my ankle pushes my leg back further, opening me wider.

He drives once
more into me. Manages to insert himself just past the head. I wince and cry
out. His chest heaves and the rattle of his exhales transmits electronically.

“
Motherfucker!
”

Behind the blindfold,
my eyes water. My nasal passage tingles with an onslaught of shocked tears as
he presses himself deeper inside me. “Ah!”

“I need to be
inside you, Lucky.”

“You’re too big,”
I gasp when he subtly withdraws and attempts again.

“You’re
too
fucking tight
,” he grits out. Fingers land on my clit and massage with
pinpoint expertise that floods me instantly. But even the renewed wetness only
affords him another couple of inches. “Jesus, relax for me, baby. That’s it.
Relax.”

The combination
of his voice and the massage releases some of my tension. The burn is still
beyond intense, but Q’s cock progresses along my channel. Deeper. Fuller.

“Breathe, Lucky.”
The instruction is terse, filled with a savage hunger that tells me one wrong
move could see this thing spiral out of control.

I take a much
needed breath, and he pushes in to my hilt simultaneously. I’m filled to
capacity, no more room at the inn.

“Fuck!” He
releases my ankle and his fingers leave my clit to trail up my body to my
breasts. I feel him rock forward just before he palms them both and rolls the
peaks between his fingers. “I fucking love your breasts.”

My moan ends in a
hoarse gasp when he starts to fuck me. Long strokes that end in little rams, my
whole body jerks with each penetration.

Moans turn into
whimpers as another dimension of pleasure sidles alongside the burn. A mixture
of pleasure and pain, it tramples through me, builds with every breath. I’m not
sure what it does to my pussy, but Q groans as his mouth closes over one
nipple.

“God, yes! Give
it to me, baby. Give me every inch of that beautiful cunt.”

I want to tell
him he has it all. But my mind is fracturing, the feel of Q’s cock inside me so
unbelievably glorious, I can’t form words. He fucks me fast and hard, drives me
to the edge, then slows the tempo. My body doesn’t care that it has already
climaxed twice. Hunger I’ve never felt before ramps up my spine.

I’m twisting and
turning. My hips surge up to meet his when he lets me. Which isn’t for very
long.

He releases my
breasts after one long suck and hooks his arms under my knees. If I thought I
was stretched wide before, this is a testament that I can be stretched more.

Clearly, the few
yoga sessions were doing their job. Strong arms plant on either side of my
waist. The camera follows his move. He pulls out all the way to the tip, then
rams hard inside me.

“Q!”

“Who owns this
pussy?” he grunts.

“You! You do.”

“Fuck, yeah.” He
pulls out, thrusts again. Then the true pounding starts.

Q wasn’t kidding
about what he intended to do to me. The desecration will never see me whole
again. I feel it in my soul as he takes complete control of me.

The intensity of
his fucking registers on every inch of my body. My wrists throb where the rope
secures me, but even that discomfort intensifies the pleasure. I’m near to
combustion when he suddenly pulls out of me and flips me over.

The breath is
knocked out of me and my whole body is quivering on the brink. I want to scream
and beg for him to fill me again. Before I can do either, he’s opening my legs
and his mouth is on me again. He eats my hungry pussy, his tongue probing where
his cock has possessed as he molds my ass in his big hands. For endless
minutes, he feasts on my clit, his caresses growing rougher and the sounds from
his throat progressively more feral.

Sharp predatory
instincts know when I’m about to come because he rears up again and, keeping me
pinned to the bed, rams back inside me.

“Agh!”

“
Motherfucker!
”

Powerful thighs
planted on either side of my hips, he circles my waist in his hands. I’m
completely immobile. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And he fucks the living
shit out of me.

I’m a babbling
wreck begging, screaming to come. Sweat from his body drips down my back by the
time he snarls his permission. The convulsions that shatter through me triggers
a shout from him. My insides are on fire, squeezing the life out of the thick
cock buried inside me.

He withdraws and
fights his way back through my rippling muscles with another animal grunt. And
then, he’s flooding me with jet streams of cum.

“
Jesus!
”

The hands banding
my waist squeeze me to the point of pain I’m sure he isn’t aware he’s
inflicting. His cock jerks wildly inside me and spasms rock the bed.

After an
eternity, he lets go of me, falls forward and catches himself on his forearms.
The whir that follows reminds me of the cameras. But I’m too shattered to do
more than chase my next breath.

Slowly, our
breaths quiet. I feel his long exhalations between my shoulder blades. Fingers
move my damp hair to one side to expose my nape. A kiss lands on my skin,
sending a residual shudder through me.

“Next time, I’m
coming on those perfect tits,” he murmurs with the indolence of a satisfied
jungle cat. “The time after that, it’ll be all over that gorgeous ass. Say
yes,
Q
.”

I struggle to
work my vocal cords. “Yes, Q.”

He jerks once
inside me. Another kiss between my shoulder blades. Then another, lower. All
the way to the end of my spine, and back up again.

He rears up a
fraction away from me. I feel the power of his stare, his slow, deep breathing.
He starts to lower himself again.

He lays his head
on my back.

That’s when I
feel it. The touch of cold metal where his face should be.

22

FREEZE FRAME

It is a
deliberate, chilling move.

Calculated to
what? Frighten me? Remind me that I’ve let a total stranger fuck me senseless?
Or that he’s in control? That I belong to him and he has the power to do with
me as he pleases?

Each thought
sends a shiver rippling over me. Each shiver centers on the cold metal resting
on my back.

Is he wearing a
mask? That voice…the metal… Is he some sort of bionic man? But I felt his
mouth, his tongue. His cock. Whatever he is, a greater part of him is human.
But his face…

The more that the
part of my mind not flooded with panic ponders the question, the more I steer
away from the absurd. He’s not a bionic freak. But it’s possible he may be damaged
somehow.

The voice, the
mask, the need for anonymity…it makes sense.

My heart lurches.

“Are…are you
okay?” I venture.

He tenses, but he
doesn’t move away. “I should be asking you that. Are you?”

My sex throbs as
if a thousand drops of wax have been dripped onto it. I’ll be sore as hell for
a long while, but I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He lets out a
small grunt of disbelief, but he doesn’t vocally contradict me. His fingers
trail down my sides, pause when I jerk a little in reaction to the
ultra-sensitivity.

“The cameras are
off,” he says.

A thick knot of
tension releases, and I sag deeper into the bed. We remain like that, my hands
still tied above my head, his body bracketing mine. My eyesight still
blackened.

“Can I take the
blindfold off?”

He doesn’t
respond for several seconds. “No.”

It’s a definitive
answer, but I swallow and try and find words that won’t cause offence. “I…I
don’t care what you look like.”

A harsh, metallic
laugh that burns my skin. “Yes. You do.” Again definitive.

This time I heed
it and remain silent. He continues to caress me, even though the gentleness is
gone. Both hands reach beneath my body and cup my breasts.

Inside me, I feel
his thickness expand.

“Shit, I want to
fuck you again.”

My groan escapes
before I can stop it.

“My body. My
cunt.” A harsh claiming, tinged with rage.

My belly quivers.
He’s angry. I’m not exactly sure why. He pulls out of me and slides his cock,
slick with our mingled juices, upward between my butt cheeks. Back and forth he
rocks, his hands still squeezing and teasing my breasts.

“If I decide to
fuck you again, no cameras. Just for me this time, would you object?”

Two parts of what
he’s just said jars me cold. What does he mean by
just for him
? And
hadn’t he reminded me a moment ago that my body belonged to him? My frown
replicates the confusion twisting through my brain. “I…”

“You like to be
fucked, Lucky. There’s no shame in admitting it.”

I shake my head because
he’s wrong. I don’t like to be fucked. At least, I didn’t until tonight. Until
he gave me three orgasms I only ever managed by my own hand a million years
ago, when sex was a cozy mystery not a clinical reality with the sole objective
of putting food in my stomach.

“You own me. For
a month. Fucking me when you please is part of the deal.” I use my best The
Villa voice, even though deep inside I’m confounded by what he said.

“I do, don’t I?”
he purrs. The anger is vacant from his voice. As if whatever overtook him has
been wrestled under control. He slides between my butt cheeks again and emits a
groan. “I’m going to turn the cameras back on. It would be such a shame to miss
capturing your next orgasm on film.”

He rises, taking
the cold metal and hot body with him.

Tension seizes me
again when the hum returns. I’m still dealing with it when he flicks me onto my
back again. His attention returns to my tits. Licking, biting, tweaking. I’m
ready to fall into the vortex of sexual need, when he pulls away. He delivers
attention to the rest of my body. When he reaches my thighs, he unclips the
garters and slowly rolls the hose down one leg, then the other. The garter
follows and I’m well and truly naked.

His thumbs trail
up my inner thigh to rest on either side of my pulsating lips. “My body. My
sweet fucking pussy.”

A moan slips past
my lips.

He laughs. “That
turns you on, doesn’t it?” The pad of one thumb brushes lightly over my clit,
earning him a shudder. His laughter deepens. He bends close until his mouth
hovers over my ear. “Did you think you wouldn’t be?” he whispers. “That this
would be a clinical fucking, a rutting exercise that you’d talk yourself
through and then walk away from when done?”

Oh fuck. What did
I do wrong now?

He’s angry again.
My head is spinning from the mercurial mood swings he’s bombarding me with.

I lick my lips
and whisper back. “Q, please tell me what you want.”

“I want to fuck
the shit out of you. And I want you to love it.”

“I…do.”

“You don’t sound
sure.” The edge is sharper, the electricity from the voice distorter sizzling
the last of my nerves. “If I remember correctly, you questioned our
compatibility.”

“I don’t. Not
anymore.”

“Hmm. But I like
to be thorough. So shall we be absolutely sure?” he rasps into my ear.

I don’t get a
chance to respond. His rigid cock slams into me, taking me from empty to full
in a nanosecond.

I scream.

He grunts,
sinister satisfaction lacing the sound. He slams through my slickness a second
time. The intensity of pleasure smashing through me makes my heart race in wild
alarm.

Q lifts away from
me. “You like that.” He’s no longer whispering. Whether he’s asking me for the
cameras’ sake or because he needs vocal confirmation of what must be comically
obvious to him, I don’t know.

But as I’ve been
painfully reminded, he’s in control. “Yes,” I whimper.

“Louder, baby, I
can’t hear you.”

“
Yes!
”

His strokes are
sublime. I don’t know whether to breathe or hold my breath and surrender to the
impending explosion.

“I thought so.
Your cream is threatening to drown me. Shall I make it so you can’t walk
tomorrow, Lucky?” he growls.

How the fuck do I
answer that? I want to be able to walk. But how do I say no without flipping
his switch back to anger. I settle for a neutral zone I fear may not exist.
“Whatever you want, Q.”

“What I want is
for you to take more of my cock. I want
all
of me inside you.”

Panic trickles
down my spine, eroding a little bit of pleasure. How much more of him is there?
The question barely flares to life before he flips me onto my side and throws
one leg over his shoulder. Guess I’m about to find out.

He impales me,
and my breath strangles. He lifts my lower half off the bed, and with almost
effortless strength, begins to slide me up and down on his length.
Unbelievably, each thrust seats him deeper inside me. The position must please
him because he fucks me faster, his breath growing rattled and uneven. I wrap
my hand around the rope fastening me to the bed and hold on tight for the
insane ride.

Before long, the
pressure builds to breaking point. “Please…come…I want…can I please…”

I’m a puppet on
his string. The words tumble uselessly from my lips as he bounces me into
ecstasy.

“Q…”

“Wait,” he grits.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust
.

Hot drops of
sweat land on my leg and slide down toward my core. His touch turns slick and I
realize I’m drenched in sweat too. I’m thinking the possibility of walking
tomorrow looks like an unlikely event, when he grunts.

“Now, Lucky.”

I squeeze my eyes
shut tight behind the blindfold and glory in the explosion of color across my
vision and the detonation of pleasure in my body. Q shouts out his own climax
and once again, I’m flooded with his seed.

This orgasm is
short, sharp and sublime. But it still blazes from the inside out, and I’m
useless by the time it’s done with me.

Q pulls out of me
almost immediately. I’m slick from head to toe, but especially drenched between
my thighs. I hear a click as he leaves the bed. I remember the cameras, and I
try not to grimace at the sight I must make.

I’m still
catching my breath when firm hands release me from the rope. He massages my
wrists in silence then brings them to my sides. He retreats for a couple of
minutes, then I sense his return.

“Sit up for me,”
he instructs. His voice is neither harsh nor gentle. He’s settled for a middle
ground that throws me into even more confusion.

I raise myself
up, and he slips something around my shoulders. My robe. I push my arms through
the sleeves and secure the belt.

“I’m going to
take you back now. Don’t remove the blindfold until I tell you to.”

Questions crowd
my brain, but I nod. “Okay.”

He lifts me into
his arms easily, and I’m once again intimate with hard abs and tensile
strength. When he starts to walk I reach out, intending to secure my arm around
his neck.

He freezes. “No.”

I snatch my hand
away. “Umm…sorry.”

“I won’t let you
fall, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“The blindfold.
It’s just…I’m not used to it.”

“It won’t be on
for much longer,” he rasps as he resumes walking.

Too much has
happened to me tonight. I don’t possess the brain power to ponder if he means
that statement in reference to right now or to the immediate future. His
strides are sure and fast as he heads for the wing where I slept last night.
The fact that he doesn’t need to open or close doors makes me wonder if there’s
someone else aiding him. I skitter away from that thought. I have enough things
on my mind to drive me crazy.

He enters what I
assume to be my bedroom and the sound of running water mingled with the scent
of bath salts permeates the air.
 
The sound grows louder as we enter the bathroom.

“A bath will help
with any discomfort.”

He lowers me down
and takes the robe off my shoulders. He takes my hand and leads me a few steps
to the edge of the tub. “Test the temperature.”

I bend cautiously
and touch the warm water. “It’s fine.”

He picks me up
and gently places me in the tub and holds on to my hands. “Sit down.”

I lower myself
in, and give a small moan when the water and bubbles engulf me. The scent is a
heavenly mix of lavender, eucalyptus and aloe. He lets go of my hands, and I
lower them to the water to resist the temptation to indulge in one brief touch.

He helps me
remove the diamond necklace and earrings, but he doesn’t leave immediately
after. My breath freezes, and I know I’m dying for him to tell me to remove the
blindfold. When he doesn’t say anything for a full minute, I tilt my head
toward him.

“Q?”

“Goodnight,
Lucky. Stephanie is nearby. If you need help call for her. Let her know how you
feel tomorrow. If you need medical attention it’ll be provided.”

My insides
recoil. I’m proud of myself for not letting it show on the outside. But I’m
also kicking myself for entertaining the thought that there could ever be a connection
between us.

I’m here to be
fucked ten ways to Sunday, every hour of every day if he chooses. Whatever
extra-curricular scenarios my brain is conjuring up needs to be stopped.
Right now
.

“Goodnight, Q.”

He leaves
immediately. Only the possibility that there could be hidden cameras in the
bathroom stops me from removing the blindfold the moment the bathroom door shuts.
Five minutes go by before I hear a soft click.

“You can take the
blindfold off now.”

I release the
clasp and blink in the thankfully low light of the beautifully decorated
bathroom. I stare at the blindfold, a million more question piling on the ones
already crowding my brain, but one punches through.

The possibility
that Q isn’t doing this for himself.

That all this has
been staged for someone else’s benefit scrambles my brain.

The soothing
water of the Jacuzzi begins to work on my overused muscles. I toss the
blindfold on the vanity and relax in the water, then I weigh the pros and cons
of tonight in my mind.

Pro. He fucks
hard and he is borderline insatiable. But he’s not a sadist. He seems to be
considerate and cares about my comfort.

Con. He’s not a
sadist. But the potential is there.

I pick up a
sponge and wash myself. When I touch myself between the legs, my breath
shudders out and my mind loops back to the final fucking.