Teaching Paul
I have been in the house for almost 3 weeks now. I had fucked and been fucked by the girls, the clients, but mostly by Paul. He seemed to have taken a liking to me and would summon me to his studio with various excuses. Every time I went in, we ended up fucking. Or, more accurately, he was fucking me. He'd fucked me almost every day, sometimes more than once a day, all over his studio. There was no pleasure in it for me, he did not seem to care about that too much. Sometimes, I didn't even get wet, so he'd just slap some lube on and shove his dick in me, grunting and huffing until he came, then sent me on my way. Some days, I was horny and frustrated, so I'd go back to my room and Lucy would take care of me, with that delicious mouth of hers and her expert fingers.
So when Paul called me again to his studio, I rolled my eyes and walked upstairs to him. He was sitting on his sofa, looking smug and arrogant.
"Emma, thanks for stopping by. I need your help. I dropped a pen right there by the desk and need you to pick it up for me," he said, smirking.
I sighed and went to pick up the pen. When I bent over, as expected, he started groping my ass. I was already moody, from the heatwave we were suffering and the fact that his studio had AC while we were not offered this luxury in the main house. I stood up and slapped his hand away. He narrowed his eyes and looked up at me.
"Are you actually saying no to me?" he asked, incredulously. "Are you that stupid?"
"Fuck you, Paul!" I snapped. "I am not your sex toy. At least with the clients I get paid and I get to cum. You never care about my pleasure."
To my shock, he seemed to blush.
"Well, I thought.... I didn't know... I thought you..."
"What?" I laughed. "You actually thought I came when you fucked me? Paul, seriously!"
He looked down and clenched his jaw. I didn't know if he was angry or embarrassed or both.
"Oh no," I laughed again. "You don't know when a woman cums? What, have you never made someone cum? You should be able to tell, you know."
He didn't say anything. I watched him for a moment and started feeling bad.
"I can show you," I said. He looked up at me, with doubt. "It will be our secret."
He was considering it, I could tell. I walked towards him and sat down, straddling his lap.
"Emma, don't..." he mumbled, a half-assed protest.
I put my fingers through his hair, inching my hips closer to him. I kissed him for the first time. He was a very good kisser, to my surprise. I moaned against his mouth and his arms closed around me, any sign of protest or anger gone.
"Kiss my neck," I said. "Slowly."
He did as told and placed slow gentle kisses down my neck, heading towards my shoulder. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me closer. I was slowly grinding on him. He was getting hard already. I pulled my dress strap down my shoulder, releasing a tit, which he cupped in his hands.
"My nipple," I whispered. "Play with my nipple."
His thumb began a slow and gentle massage. I looked down at him as his tongue flicked my nipple, wet and warm.
"Mmmmm... yes, yes," I moaned. "You're doing so well, Paul. Keep going."
His mouth closed on my nipple and he began sucking, gentle at first, then harder. I arched my back and pushed my nipple deeper in his mouth. He sucked and licked on it hard and I felt the pleasure traveling down to my pussy.