(AUTHOR'S NOTE - This will still read pretty hot if you haven't read part one, but there's a whole overarching storyline and lots of fun sex. Soo . . .)
Ch. 2 - Helen Surrenders Completely
Thursday, September 14, 8:43PM. The Law Offices Of Garfinkel, Carlton, Deutsche & Lole
So where was I?
"Beg for it, Helen," I growled. "Be a good girl and beg."
She was on her back now, splayed out lewdly, her skin flushed, her makeup smeared. I'd been forced to flip her over after her most-recent orgasm had left her long, toned legs too weak and wobbly to support her as she bent over the desk. She'd cried "no, no, no" when I'd pulled completely from her grasping pussy, a hint of actual fear in her voice that our little "adventure" was so suddenly over.
But then I'd grabbed a fistful of her long, black hair.
"On your back, Helen," I'd whispered just inches from her ear and felt a tingle of satisfaction as her face lit up with a beaming and eager smile at the rough treatment.
I'd laid her down, spread her thighs, teased her clit for just a moment and watched her thrash and wriggle and gasp as I slowly (so terribly slowly) pushed deeper and deeper into her until my hips and her thighs kissed. I was so close. So very, very close. She grasped the edge of the desk and braced herself for the onslaught she hoped and knew was coming.
But then I did something terrible. I did nothing at all. I simply held myself completely still inside her while running my fingers gently up and down her bare thighs. I held myself still and enjoyed the power and ignored the voice in my mind telling me what I was doing was so very, very wrong. Telling me I was a monster. Telling me I was weak.
"Beg for it, Helen," I growled. "Be a good girl and beg."
She didn't answer. At least not with words. Instead Helen Martin - my ex wife's "shark" divorce lawyer who had tried to ruin my life - let out a sound somewhere between a lustful moan and a defeated sob. I felt my neck muscles convulse as the sound registered deep in my lizard brain and had to count slowly to ten and take deep, calming breaths to keep control of myself. It wasn't time yet. She had to beg first.
"I . . . I . . . I . . . please . . . I . . . I just . . . Please I need you to . . . " she babbled, fighting to keep what little power and self respect she had left. Helen's eyes were squeezed shut tight like she was afraid they would burst from their sockets if she opened them.
Her nipples were brutally hard and flushed a deep, deep red. Her ass clenched compulsively at the edge of her desk. She squeezed my hard cock, buried to the hilt in her sensitive and abused pussy.
I took deep breaths and though I wanted nothing more in the world than to let go, I grit my teeth and refused. I refused to let this bitch think she was in charge. I refused to let her win. I refused to let her make me come.
I watched Helen arch her back against her heavy mahogany desk. I felt her strong, gorgeous legs pull me closer. I reveled in the waves rippling across the muscles of her flat, toned belly as she used her powerful hips to grind her clit against my pelvic bone and pull me deeper into her pussy, deeper into her soul.
Her jaw clenched shut. Her breathing came fast and loud l like a thoroughbred. Every muscle in her gorgeous body tensed as she brought herself closer and closer to yet another brutal, terrifying orgasm. Closer. Closer. Almost there. It was all I could do to keep my balance and hold on as she used me for her pleasure. I saw a smile start to spread on her lips. I knew in just a second she'd be screaming, thrashing, coming with the power of a John Bonham drum solo.
"Uhh . . . uhh . . . God, yes . . . I'm almost . . ."
I slapped her across the face. Open handed. Just hard enough for the shock of pain to cut through her oversexed haze.
Her eyes flew open. Her gaze locked with mine.
"I said beg, Helen," I commanded in my cruelest tone. I dug my thumbs deep into the creases of her hips and used my large hands and powerful arms to pin her to the desk and freeze her in place like a deer begging to be hit by an orgasmic Mac truck. She gave me a plaintive look — I swear she looked like a baby seal on the cover of National Geographic — and suddenly, for just a moment, I felt this overwhelming sadness wash over me as I realized again what I was doing. What I'd become. What I'd taken from this woman that she would never get back.
Helen was the "Boogeyman" of the local divorce courts.
I'd Googled her a few weeks ago when I first heard my ex wife, Sarah, was "lawyering up" (even though she'd told me again and again that we could be "amicable" about all this and she would "never go after my money.")
First I found the pictures that I'm sure had been responsible for bursting the pants of teenaged (and middle aged) boys all over the world.
Helen Martin, Esq. had worked as a model while putting herself through college and law school. And I have to say, the shots of her smiling, toned, oiled up and contorting for the male gaze while posing coyly in skimpy bikinis and skimpier thongs were heart stopping, pants bursting and inspiring.
One shot alone had her "modeling" a pair of deep blue tights and making me (and every other man) fall a little in love with her. I wish I could show you the photo. Hell, I wish I could meet the son of a bitch who took it. In the shot (I honestly have no idea what the heck it's supposed to be selling) she's posing in front of a mirror in an all-white room and facing away from the camera.
This younger Helen Martin has on high heels just shy of being stilettos. They force the muscles in her shapely legs to tense. Her legs are spread so each of her muscular thighs are barely an inch apart, almost calling to your tongue to explore.
Each globe of her astonishing ass seems to float in the air like a balloon whose helium won't run out for decades.
Then there's her back. In the picture it's completely bare. The high-waisted tights hug her waist and end right below her ribs.
