Her eyes hushed to the kitchen island. White marble, polished after the day's work, but most importantly -- perfectly lighted and a fucking perfect view to the whole room.
He was gonna show her off like a damn trophy. Butt-naked.
A hesitant step towards it. Then another.
Like in a dream Claire climbed on top of it. Positioned herself, on her elbows and knees, back arched, all her private parts laid bare to his eyes. Fists clenched and looking straight onto the marble in a desperate attempt to block out everything around her.
"You see...", his voice trailed somewhere behind her, "the problem is you're not honest with yourself. Wayyy too much pride. Doesn't mean you shouldn't be proud of yourself -- hell, I think you're obliged to -- but right here, right now, you're just screaming to be degraded."
Claire thought about all her strengths and achievements and that his man could take none of that away.
"Humiliated."
Her success. Careerwise. Sportswise. Men were turning heads for her.
"Put in place."
She could feel her breathing getting heavy.
"So I am doing you a favour and will spend my evening breaking down this highly successful girl with a PhD, her life under control, her honed body and...", John trailed a finger up her lower calf, "... herself dripping down her legs."
The idea that he could see how wet she was made Claire feel bursting hot. She quivered over... excitement? His hand settled on her back, holding her in place. Silently she obeyed and brought her body back under control.
Fuck. His impact on her was way worse than she anticipated.
And she could feel his fingers already tracing upward her legs.
The fucker adjusted his movements to the sensitivity of her skin, only so slightly grazing the inside of her tighs. A shudder rocked Claire's body. His fingers slowly closing in on her...
She went numb as his fingertip brushed against her labia.
He snarled, removed his touch and rather laid his hand onto her neck. Just laid -- the asshole didn't need to grasp it or hold her in place but already knew the power of that simple gesture had over her.
"Do you wanna know, why I do this to you?"
Claire couldn't even see his face, just his voice haunted her thoughts.
"I-I guess, sir?" Adressing like that just to be sure. And it somehow...felt right? Her voice was literally dripping from anxiousness and anticipation.
"This wouldn't be happening to you if you behaved properly. I can also be...", he let his hand wander ever slowly over her neck down her spine, "... nice and caring. But with a know-it-all, got-it-all girl who's nothing but cocky and full of herself like yourself I really wanna take my time to properly put you in place."
He continued his trail, now sliding down dangerously low towards her waistline. Had her mouth always been that dry?
Taking a deep breath she bucked her arched back and could feel his hand moving up and down in unison with her. This simple sensation made her sure about two things: this man was pure evil -- and she so wanted him.
As in answer to her thoughts, his lips brushed her earlobe, whispering: "Claire, honey, you realize I'm gonna turn you into a proper cocksleeve?"
Her mind went completely blank, fingers grabbing the marble plate, biting her lip, every.fucking.single. muscle in her body tightening up. At this point she knew she was already dripping.
Claire didn't care.
No, she rather... wanted him to see her like that.
"Please, John!"
His finger felt so large.
She screamed.
First silently. Mouth ripped wide open, eyes tightly shut. No sound being able to express the feelings soaring through her.
A girl, no, a woman in her prime, successful, intelligent and beautiful -- put on display like a mindless fuck toy.
Then it rose in her throat. Like all the air she never realised she was missing all of a sudden flooded her lungs.
Ready to let out all the overwhelming sensations tormenting her body.
The cold of the marble.
The air on her body.
The tip of his finger inside her.
His hand over her mouth. "Oh no. You don't."
Claire opened her eyes to find John's face in front of her.
"Sorry, but you're not gonna let that out unless you cum. And you're definitely not allowed to do that in the near future."
She tried a muffled angry response, but John just grabbed her face tighter. "Nod if you understand!"
There was that strictness, a voice vibrating with looming danger in case of disobedience, that she only suspected underneath his layers.
Rage at all the arrogance and conceitedness flared up in her eyes. It all vanished at the feeling of John dipping his finger into her mouth.
Hesitantly she nodded.
"There we go."
He rewarded her submission with a stroke of his thumb over her cheek.
"I'm gonna remove my hand now -- and expect you to behave."
Claire's breathing was going ragged.
All of it was too much. His orders. Her degradation. Her fucking display like a trophy on top of her kitchen island.
His sweet caresses as his now free hand flowed over her sides to rest on her hips.
Then he moved his finger.
Not that Claire hadn't been fingerfucked before. But it had been exactly that -- fingerfucked. Fumbling, stumbling around. Thinking force was all that was needed. Putting as much pressure as possible on wherever they considered her clit to be. And those were the considerate ones. Some self-centred assholes just went for it and spread her to get some action as soon as possible. The kind of guys Claire had thrown out. Repeatedly.
