wrenxpalmer

[wrenxpalmer]

Her pleading had in fact, fallen on deaf ears. An unwilling and unrelenting wall she must be talking to now, he seemed unfazed and even more than that, amused. Nothing like stripping the sexual tension from the interaction to swiftly place how easily he irritated her at the forefront. It had been there most of the time, even when they’d met, but it was glaringly obvious now that he was taunting her. Of course the worst part of it wasn’t that she’d given herself to him so willingly, she wasn’t much for regrets in her bouts of lust, but in the regret that she was helpless. Wren wrestled between astonishment of a creature she’d only heard about in stories and in the revelation of her imprisonment. Most of the anger returned to her face when he smiled, the only fear lingering behind it when he showed his teeth. Like canine teeth they’d file down when you’d go to the dentist, except much sharper. She didn’t get too long of a look, but they looked real. It wasn’t some joke or fictitious thing, validated by the coupling of his movements and strength. Wren couldn’t allow herself to fully believe it, even as her brain and body fought to find logic in the myth.

He sauntered over to the dresses that she’d been so captivated by and ran his fingers through the fabric while he went on about how unique she was, some bullshit ramblings that she’d heard all before. There was nothing particularly special about her, to him at least, he hadn’t known her all that long. He knew nothing of what could make her special or of value, only beauty and flesh and the compatibility of their bodies. It furthered the aggravation she was building up against him, that he might think she was so dumb to believe everything he was saying about her, that she would even be so dumb as to follow him up here because she might actually be that naïve. But what could she possibly say for herself now, being a prisoner to some beast that only existed in books and movies.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Wren’s lip curled as he did a once over, annoyed he even had the pleasure of looking. “I’d say I’d rather starve to death but then I might really have to be stuck with you forever.” She moved away from him but not from the fear. “Whatever maid you have around here, have them do it.” She waved her hand. “Leave it at the door, I don’t care.” Wren was not unaccustomed to the luxuries of the wealthy, so it wasn’t something she would deprive herself of, especially since it sounded like she didn’t have a choice and that she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. “I don’t want to see you.” Already in her mind she’d begun to scan the room for things she may use to escape come morning - when she assumed he may not be able to stop her. “Go to your fucking coffin or wherever it is that you sleep in.” She spat at his feet, so hot with anger she could feel it in her cheeks. “Have a nice, long rest and throw another party and find another otherworldly special girl to fuck and shuffle away in a room when you wake up. And then maybe when you realize that we’re all the same, you’ll figure out you don’t need me and you’ll let me go or kill me, I don’t care. Just don’t fucking come back unless you’re letting me leave this room.”

What made her confusion worse was the ridicule she was faced in the unknown. He was making fun of her, indulging in the fact that she was out of her element and even worse, scared. It felt like digging the knife in deeper, a blunt and painful blade. It made her bitter with anger and she became mad at herself for not knowing the answer as if she had the means. There was nothing worse than being caught off guard or so she thought, until now when met with the twisted delight he got from her uncertainty. A harsh breath came from her nose in contempt. Trained, marked, memorized - all of these words felt like watching him build the walls of an invisible prison. The very things she hated all spouted from his lips, a new and suffocating fear rising to the surface. Ownership and possession were some of her greatest fears, and some of the words he liked using the most.

She especially resented being mocked amongst many other things, now missing the opportunity to counter for lack of better words. In the conception of the idea, it felt utterly stupid. Denial was the first emotion to set in, perhaps disbelief. Stuff for the movies, it wasn’t real. Certain memories trickled in now, like the cut on her lip and the sounds he made as he tasted it, calling her human. They’d been enthralled in each other for some time, it felt, long enough not to notice a single sound - where now none existed. There were no sounds of feet, heightened conversations or laughter, no sounds of bustling drinks and silver plates and platters. Just silence. Maybe the fear of the unknown mixed with her thoughts now because it only seemed to encourage his pleasure. “You’re lying.” She hissed, very aware of the closing space he put between the two. “You’re making up stupid shit to scare me, that’s not a real thing - let me go.”

Her eyebrows pressed together in frustration. It all felt like a rush to her nervous system, and not being able to verbalize disorganized her breathing. His hand gripped her wrist and she suddenly became aware of the resistance behind it, even if the strength was not enforced. Her short movements against the action did nothing, not even his body moved from how much her arm wiggled, an immovable force. “I don’t want to.” Her words felt muddled, reduced to a less clever response than before. “Don’t keep me here, just kill me.”

Something infinitely worse than the idea of dying was the thought that she no longer belonged to herself. To be in possession of someone else was making her stomach turn, as if it were marinating inside of her alongside the disbelief of this discovery. “I’d rather die than stay here. You want to make shit up and fantasize and role play, do it with someone else. Don’t leave me here.” It almost sounded immature, she didn’t want to believe him. “Don’t do it.” Her arm wriggled against the stone of his grasp. “I wont give you what you want. If you come back here and touch me I’ll be lifeless. There’ll be no joy in it and you’ll wish you would’ve just killed me.” Her nose was flaring but her eyes stung with fear. “I’m not scared to die. Just do it now. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

[wrenxpalmer]

What made her confusion worse was the ridicule she was faced in the unknown. He was making fun of her, indulging in the fact that she was out of her element and even worse, scared. It felt like digging the knife in deeper, a blunt and painful blade. It made her bitter with anger and she became mad at herself for not knowing the answer as if she had the means. There was nothing worse than being caught off guard or so she thought, until now when met with the twisted delight he got from her uncertainty. A harsh breath came from her nose in contempt. Trained, marked, memorized - all of these words felt like watching him build the walls of an invisible prison. The very things she hated all spouted from his lips, a new and suffocating fear rising to the surface. Ownership and possession were some of her greatest fears, and some of the words he liked using the most.

She especially resented being mocked amongst many other things, now missing the opportunity to counter for lack of better words. In the conception of the idea, it felt utterly stupid. Denial was the first emotion to set in, perhaps disbelief. Stuff for the movies, it wasn’t real. Certain memories trickled in now, like the cut on her lip and the sounds he made as he tasted it, calling her human. They’d been enthralled in each other for some time, it felt, long enough not to notice a single sound - where now none existed. There were no sounds of feet, heightened conversations or laughter, no sounds of bustling drinks and silver plates and platters. Just silence. Maybe the fear of the unknown mixed with her thoughts now because it only seemed to encourage his pleasure. “You’re lying.” She hissed, very aware of the closing space he put between the two. “You’re making up stupid shit to scare me, that’s not a real thing - let me go.”

Her eyebrows pressed together in frustration. It all felt like a rush to her nervous system, and not being able to verbalize disorganized her breathing. His hand gripped her wrist and she suddenly became aware of the resistance behind it, even if the strength was not enforced. Her short movements against the action did nothing, not even his body moved from how much her arm wiggled, an immovable force. “I don’t want to.” Her words felt muddled, reduced to a less clever response than before. “Don’t keep me here, just kill me.”

Something infinitely worse than the idea of dying was the thought that she no longer belonged to herself. To be in possession of someone else was making her stomach turn, as if it were marinating inside of her alongside the disbelief of this discovery. “I’d rather die than stay here. You want to make shit up and fantasize and role play, do it with someone else. Don’t leave me here.” It almost sounded immature, she didn’t want to believe him. “Don’t do it.” Her arm wriggled against the stone of his grasp. “I wont give you what you want. If you come back here and touch me I’ll be lifeless. There’ll be no joy in it and you’ll wish you would’ve just killed me.” Her nose was flaring but her eyes stung with fear. “I’m not scared to die. Just do it now. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

Aggression and coercion were expected, perhaps veiled and even direct threats that might precede something more violent. When braced herself for it, ready for what she might have to dodge or talk herself out of, how she might manipulate herself out of her current position. What she never expected in the wildest depths of her imagination was the swift switch in air and how quickly it whipped against her skin and lifted her hair as the body that was some distance behind now stood directly at her side in less than an instant.

The air was cold as it hit her, even colder was the air that left her lungs. Not even a shrill gasp could leave her throat, only a withdrawal of breath from her lungs and widened eyes. It was pure instinct that she might move away, body taking over for protection and preservation as it felt an object closer than it should have ever been in that moment. Her breath caught in her throat and dried it of all moisture. As she jolted back her mind could only race with conclusions to no logical answers, as if it was trying to muster a solve for something so irrational and unnatural. She’d never even heard his heavy steps, like he might be running fast to catch the door in its place. Only the feeling of the air around her and the sight of his body once there now suddenly here, with no apparent answer in sight.

“What the fuck?” Was all she could muster, the first word catching in her throat before the rest very quickly followed it. Her body trembled, perhaps a mix of adrenaline and definite confusion, a jolt of emotion that she could only describe as lunacy. From him came less than nothing, like he expected the reaction from her. He almost seemed bored, but then that boredom came a sweet sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that he’d had something to prove. To Wren this word echoed in her ear, monster, like she had any bearings on what it might mean from whatever it is he might be showing her.

Then, as if to prove another point, he twisted off the heavy doorknob which would have otherwise been her only way of leaving and held it out to her with twisted amusement. Already curving away from him, Wren was rightfully distrusting in his actions and made no movement towards him, even angrier now that she felt she’d been made a fool, angrier now that she was not in control of what made sense. How did he do that, what was that, what’s going on - all things she wanted to say but betrayed her, it felt like her grasp was slipping from control and it only deepened her anger, eyes confused and brows turned in, lips curling in disgust. She felt like she might be sick. Some of her concern should have been on her predicament but somehow it centered in her confusion, too preoccupied with making sense of what was happening as opposed to her lack of an escape route. “You’re unscrewing the knob?” She spat back at him, breath unsteady even now. “What are you saying? What are you doing?” Her eyes rushed between his as if comfort would be met against the two. “What the hell do you mean monster?”

[wrenxpalmer]

Aggression and coercion were expected, perhaps veiled and even direct threats that might precede something more violent. When braced herself for it, ready for what she might have to dodge or talk herself out of, how she might manipulate herself out of her current position. What she never expected in the wildest depths of her imagination was the swift switch in air and how quickly it whipped against her skin and lifted her hair as the body that was some distance behind now stood directly at her side in less than an instant.

The air was cold as it hit her, even colder was the air that left her lungs. Not even a shrill gasp could leave her throat, only a withdrawal of breath from her lungs and widened eyes. It was pure instinct that she might move away, body taking over for protection and preservation as it felt an object closer than it should have ever been in that moment. Her breath caught in her throat and dried it of all moisture. As she jolted back her mind could only race with conclusions to no logical answers, as if it was trying to muster a solve for something so irrational and unnatural. She’d never even heard his heavy steps, like he might be running fast to catch the door in its place. Only the feeling of the air around her and the sight of his body once there now suddenly here, with no apparent answer in sight.

“What the fuck?” Was all she could muster, the first word catching in her throat before the rest very quickly followed it. Her body trembled, perhaps a mix of adrenaline and definite confusion, a jolt of emotion that she could only describe as lunacy. From him came less than nothing, like he expected the reaction from her. He almost seemed bored, but then that boredom came a sweet sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that he’d had something to prove. To Wren this word echoed in her ear, monster, like she had any bearings on what it might mean from whatever it is he might be showing her.

Then, as if to prove another point, he twisted off the heavy doorknob which would have otherwise been her only way of leaving and held it out to her with twisted amusement. Already curving away from him, Wren was rightfully distrusting in his actions and made no movement towards him, even angrier now that she felt she’d been made a fool, angrier now that she was not in control of what made sense. How did he do that, what was that, what’s going on - all things she wanted to say but betrayed her, it felt like her grasp was slipping from control and it only deepened her anger, eyes confused and brows turned in, lips curling in disgust. She felt like she might be sick. Some of her concern should have been on her predicament but somehow it centered in her confusion, too preoccupied with making sense of what was happening as opposed to her lack of an escape route. “You’re unscrewing the knob?” She spat back at him, breath unsteady even now. “What are you saying? What are you doing?” Her eyes rushed between his as if comfort would be met against the two. “What the hell do you mean monster?”

“It’s only special because I wanted to fuck you.” Wren felt her words become cross. “I don’t sleep with rich men for sport if that’s the implication.” She doubled down. “Nor am I an escort.” She felt the clarification necessary. They were adults, sex didn’t matter in the way it might have in movies, strangers were strangers and if the attraction was strong enough, to hell with it. Wren had no notion of romance in any of her trysts, it wasn’t of the greatest significance as all of them were meant to satisfy whatever urges need be satisfied. This one was no exception, except maybe that it satisfied more than one of her pleasures. If she were to admit it, though not now and perhaps never, it was a personal best for her as well. No one had ever been so disgusting and reckless, so dirty and crass, even the pompous way he took her in and assumed things about her turned her on in such a way she’d never convey with words - but surely deep down he knew. It was just a plus that he checked all her boxes.

Wrens arms settled into a stretch along the couch, exposing her barely covered chest, even if her legs were still tucking some measure of flesh away from him. “Keep me as your girlfriend?” She scoffed and laughed, then leaned herself down to grab the dress that pooled into the floor in front of the sofa, delicate in fabric as she took it into her fingers and once again relished in the softness. “We don’t need to turn this into a thing, I don’t want a relationship, either.” Context assured this was surely not the case.

Still, she slipped the dress back over her shoulders and onto her body and stood, fingers mending whatever ripples remained in the dress until they were smoothed. “Long term isn’t my thing. This was fun, though.” Wren took the task of smoothing the frizz collecting in her hair between her slender fingers, brushing through them with each digit carefully as she began to walk closer to the door, trying to be coy or in a rush like she might be nervous. Inside her chest began to build an anger stemming from annoyance, the thought that because he had money he might be able to claim her too. Why should he be able to have everything and her, too - life must be as unfair for him as it constantly was for her. The brief thought crossed her mind that he might try and harm her, but he hadn’t thus far, empty threats he would try to remedy with money or power, neither of which she cared all too much about - her life probably less so than the others. She was making some headway, as gracefully as she possibly could towards the door, balanced somewhere between self-preservation and provoked.

[wrenxpalmer]

“It’s only special because I wanted to fuck you.” Wren felt her words become cross. “I don’t sleep with rich men for sport if that’s the implication.” She doubled down. “Nor am I an escort.” She felt the clarification necessary. They were adults, sex didn’t matter in the way it might have in movies, strangers were strangers and if the attraction was strong enough, to hell with it. Wren had no notion of romance in any of her trysts, it wasn’t of the greatest significance as all of them were meant to satisfy whatever urges need be satisfied. This one was no exception, except maybe that it satisfied more than one of her pleasures. If she were to admit it, though not now and perhaps never, it was a personal best for her as well. No one had ever been so disgusting and reckless, so dirty and crass, even the pompous way he took her in and assumed things about her turned her on in such a way she’d never convey with words - but surely deep down he knew. It was just a plus that he checked all her boxes.

Wrens arms settled into a stretch along the couch, exposing her barely covered chest, even if her legs were still tucking some measure of flesh away from him. “Keep me as your girlfriend?” She scoffed and laughed, then leaned herself down to grab the dress that pooled into the floor in front of the sofa, delicate in fabric as she took it into her fingers and once again relished in the softness. “We don’t need to turn this into a thing, I don’t want a relationship, either.” Context assured this was surely not the case.

Still, she slipped the dress back over her shoulders and onto her body and stood, fingers mending whatever ripples remained in the dress until they were smoothed. “Long term isn’t my thing. This was fun, though.” Wren took the task of smoothing the frizz collecting in her hair between her slender fingers, brushing through them with each digit carefully as she began to walk closer to the door, trying to be coy or in a rush like she might be nervous. Inside her chest began to build an anger stemming from annoyance, the thought that because he had money he might be able to claim her too. Why should he be able to have everything and her, too - life must be as unfair for him as it constantly was for her. The brief thought crossed her mind that he might try and harm her, but he hadn’t thus far, empty threats he would try to remedy with money or power, neither of which she cared all too much about - her life probably less so than the others. She was making some headway, as gracefully as she possibly could towards the door, balanced somewhere between self-preservation and provoked.

Drunk with lust, Wren watched his mood dip from one end of the spectrum to the next as it slipped from distraction to amusement to serious, then amused all over again. Aware that she was still fully at the liberty of whatever choice he was looking to make next, she pressed her back into the couch as she looked up at him.

Being sure and being stupid were not to be mistaken. The words were casual and flat, no sense of an impatient breath behind them like he couldn’t wait to get to the good part even if she believed it was just behind them. Part of her believed him, the other uncertain. If he wanted to he would have. Killing had to be a pleasure untouched by sex. An intimacy of its own kind. She couldn’t imagine waiting before the fun and the way he seemed to hasten himself towards satisfaction led her to believe that this couldn’t be the case.

His words would have stung if she hadn’t been self aware enough to realize it herself. Of course all of her reasons for being in this predicament were for the thrill and greed, otherwise why do it in the first place. “I did it because I wanted to.” She was quick to remind him. “You’re not the first rich and handsome man I’ve ever met, those qualities don’t make you special.” She said with an air of a scoff, trying to brush off the unsettling feeling that grew inside her. Her body instinctively moved to face him, legs bending almost to cover her body, elbows bent as her hands rested on the back of the couch. It was casual enough to look like a subtle movement, but she left her limbs out in case she felt the real need to fight.

“I’m not a toy.” Wren all but grumbled, starting to get annoyed now that his hands and lips weren’t spread across her body and muddling her judgment. “Or an escort.” She added. “Why’d you dress me and fuck me if you wanted to kill me, wouldn’t doing it then have been much faster? Kill me and fuck my dead corpse, is that what you’re into?” It was hardly funny, but the lingering adrenaline was coupling her slight fear and anger, unsure if the lapse in her breath was a result of her emotions or what they’d just finished doing. “You’re the last person I was with, someone would notice.” Now she felt she might be trying to reason, still defiant, almost baiting him. “Why keep me around to play with me just kill me now if that’s your endgame. I don’t want to stick around if that’s what’s gonna happen to me anyway.”

[wrenxpalmer]

Drunk with lust, Wren watched his mood dip from one end of the spectrum to the next as it slipped from distraction to amusement to serious, then amused all over again. Aware that she was still fully at the liberty of whatever choice he was looking to make next, she pressed her back into the couch as she looked up at him.

Being sure and being stupid were not to be mistaken. The words were casual and flat, no sense of an impatient breath behind them like he couldn’t wait to get to the good part even if she believed it was just behind them. Part of her believed him, the other uncertain. If he wanted to he would have. Killing had to be a pleasure untouched by sex. An intimacy of its own kind. She couldn’t imagine waiting before the fun and the way he seemed to hasten himself towards satisfaction led her to believe that this couldn’t be the case.

His words would have stung if she hadn’t been self aware enough to realize it herself. Of course all of her reasons for being in this predicament were for the thrill and greed, otherwise why do it in the first place. “I did it because I wanted to.” She was quick to remind him. “You’re not the first rich and handsome man I’ve ever met, those qualities don’t make you special.” She said with an air of a scoff, trying to brush off the unsettling feeling that grew inside her. Her body instinctively moved to face him, legs bending almost to cover her body, elbows bent as her hands rested on the back of the couch. It was casual enough to look like a subtle movement, but she left her limbs out in case she felt the real need to fight.

“I’m not a toy.” Wren all but grumbled, starting to get annoyed now that his hands and lips weren’t spread across her body and muddling her judgment. “Or an escort.” She added. “Why’d you dress me and fuck me if you wanted to kill me, wouldn’t doing it then have been much faster? Kill me and fuck my dead corpse, is that what you’re into?” It was hardly funny, but the lingering adrenaline was coupling her slight fear and anger, unsure if the lapse in her breath was a result of her emotions or what they’d just finished doing. “You’re the last person I was with, someone would notice.” Now she felt she might be trying to reason, still defiant, almost baiting him. “Why keep me around to play with me just kill me now if that’s your endgame. I don’t want to stick around if that’s what’s gonna happen to me anyway.”

Even as she pulled herself from him she could feel his smile, the languid pleasure of his release in all its smugness. He hung over her and nearly went completely limp, seemingly just as satisfied as she had been before questions started to catch up with her, even if his breath had none of the exhaust to match her own. Her body even rejected the movement, a shiver at her spine as she slipped from his grasp, still so close as he fed her compliments only reserved for coaxing her into the act instead of thereafter.

Wren would have loved to believe him, had she been a naive woman maybe it would have even been nice. His eyes hung below his brow, smile sinister and throughly pleased as he praised her. Perhaps for reason of keeping her around for some time longer, she couldn’t imagine why he’d continue on with sweetened words but let him say them anyway, content with not exploring the depths of how much the way he was looking at her now was stirring something already. Nothing about him was safe, especially not the way he watched her now, holding her at a bated breath as she fought herself to have some kind of discipline and sense.

“Avoiding my questions?” She pressed, feeling the scrutiny of his gaze start to tickle her body and warm between her legs. “What if I want you to answer me first, then what?” Wren wagered what she already knew would fail her, not caring for the consequence of disappointing someone of his status. “Assuming you’d let me say otherwise and not just take what you want the way you did the first time.” Her argument was one her body betrayed, even as she held her ground. The possibility and his control were no true fears to her, only the curiosity of not knowing. “You wanted to bring me up here to tell me what to do, no questions asked? I’m your new little fun toy?”

[wrenxpalmer]

Even as she pulled herself from him she could feel his smile, the languid pleasure of his release in all its smugness. He hung over her and nearly went completely limp, seemingly just as satisfied as she had been before questions started to catch up with her, even if his breath had none of the exhaust to match her own. Her body even rejected the movement, a shiver at her spine as she slipped from his grasp, still so close as he fed her compliments only reserved for coaxing her into the act instead of thereafter.

Wren would have loved to believe him, had she been a naive woman maybe it would have even been nice. His eyes hung below his brow, smile sinister and throughly pleased as he praised her. Perhaps for reason of keeping her around for some time longer, she couldn’t imagine why he’d continue on with sweetened words but let him say them anyway, content with not exploring the depths of how much the way he was looking at her now was stirring something already. Nothing about him was safe, especially not the way he watched her now, holding her at a bated breath as she fought herself to have some kind of discipline and sense.

“Avoiding my questions?” She pressed, feeling the scrutiny of his gaze start to tickle her body and warm between her legs. “What if I want you to answer me first, then what?” Wren wagered what she already knew would fail her, not caring for the consequence of disappointing someone of his status. “Assuming you’d let me say otherwise and not just take what you want the way you did the first time.” Her argument was one her body betrayed, even as she held her ground. The possibility and his control were no true fears to her, only the curiosity of not knowing. “You wanted to bring me up here to tell me what to do, no questions asked? I’m your new little fun toy?”

Wren could feel the shift in their bodies as it swung from one end of the pendulum to the next. It was fast and unrelenting, almost as if they’d lost the last of themselves to their primal instincts. Wren couldn’t breathe, truly and for many long seconds. His fingers wound in her hair, his other hand pressing deep in its control and movement so fast it wasn’t possible. What she could say of it now was lost to her empty lungs, eyes rolling back in disbelief and in her submission. The sick joy she got from the feeling of their shared release, knowing it would sit inside her was her only reprieve as he forced himself as deep as he could go.

She could hear him now, as his fingers focused on the long ends of her hair and she gasped, unsure if she was so consumed by her lust that it would make any logical sense for anyone to move with this kind of velocity. Lust washed over her like a slow lava on her skin, and as she felt the tension snap in him she let hers free, pride and joy and greed in how disgustingly delighted she was as he finished inside her, all too keen on forgetting the sense she brought in with her this evening.

Wren could feel every inch of her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, breath only just returning as his hands softened their hold in his release even if only for just some moments. Her chest heaved and fought furiously to bring the air back to her lungs, the final reckless act as if nothing was of any consequence. She took herself from him slowly, each inch a struggle as she realized just how weak her body had been spent, legs shaking as they separated bodies. But what she couldn’t focus on she did so increasingly now, confused and suspicious of the things of which she could not answer, namely the touch of his skin. Though removed from him, Wren could still feel the slight of his skin as it brushed her as she wiggled her way out from under him. “How?” She heaved, trying to manage it. “What was that?” She griped, as if she didn’t let her pleasure overpower the answer moments before.

[wrenxpalmer]

Wren could feel the shift in their bodies as it swung from one end of the pendulum to the next. It was fast and unrelenting, almost as if they’d lost the last of themselves to their primal instincts. Wren couldn’t breathe, truly and for many long seconds. His fingers wound in her hair, his other hand pressing deep in its control and movement so fast it wasn’t possible. What she could say of it now was lost to her empty lungs, eyes rolling back in disbelief and in her submission. The sick joy she got from the feeling of their shared release, knowing it would sit inside her was her only reprieve as he forced himself as deep as he could go.

She could hear him now, as his fingers focused on the long ends of her hair and she gasped, unsure if she was so consumed by her lust that it would make any logical sense for anyone to move with this kind of velocity. Lust washed over her like a slow lava on her skin, and as she felt the tension snap in him she let hers free, pride and joy and greed in how disgustingly delighted she was as he finished inside her, all too keen on forgetting the sense she brought in with her this evening.

Wren could feel every inch of her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, breath only just returning as his hands softened their hold in his release even if only for just some moments. Her chest heaved and fought furiously to bring the air back to her lungs, the final reckless act as if nothing was of any consequence. She took herself from him slowly, each inch a struggle as she realized just how weak her body had been spent, legs shaking as they separated bodies. But what she couldn’t focus on she did so increasingly now, confused and suspicious of the things of which she could not answer, namely the touch of his skin. Though removed from him, Wren could still feel the slight of his skin as it brushed her as she wiggled her way out from under him. “How?” She heaved, trying to manage it. “What was that?” She griped, as if she didn’t let her pleasure overpower the answer moments before.

A single eyebrow flicked upward, the only indication of a response that she could muster. It felt like she was looking over a ledge and seeing how far over she could get before she fell. Each time she defied him, quietly or not, it got better. Maybe it was how little she cared for life that she let him get away with so much, or maybe it truly was for all that he had and had already done. This kind of submission, however, was well above her limitations with her loosely defined work. The sick and twisted way she treated others was turned back onto her and she met it with unexpected welcome.

Wren could feel him inside her with a thick pulse, trying to catch her breath on weakened lungs as he cooed in her ear. All Wren could hear was the meaning in between the words, like he was making fun of her somehow, like he almost knew how much of a defeat it was for her. But he didn’t know anything, and what was worse was how often he did things she liked without having to voice them. She despised the idea that she was just as shallow and heartless and how someone so entirely different could be a mirror of herself. It would be to admit she was vain and vile, not above degradation at the sake of her own dignity, so easily swayed by a stranger and thoughtless when she didn’t have the means to be.

His hand returned to its favorite spot at her neck and squeezed, the buzz of a moan against the flesh of his hand. Each time his fingers slid down her body between her thighs she shivered, bumps rising on her skin as his fingers inched between their legs. Wren sputtered and squeaked out what sounded like begging, muttered pleases among the choked out groans of desperation. He didn’t care that her body was flush pink from overstimulation, or that she was swollen at each and every pinch and pull she’d suffered under his hand. He didn’t even have to ask for screams, because they were just about the only breath she could get out. The first sound was strangled in her throat, heavier and guttural the next time, face twisted as if in pain when in truth it just added to the pleasure, clasping on to the couch like a lifeline, begging, praying to a god she didn’t even believe in to let her have this release and to give him the same desperation she carried so deeply within her.

[wrenxpalmer]

A single eyebrow flicked upward, the only indication of a response that she could muster. It felt like she was looking over a ledge and seeing how far over she could get before she fell. Each time she defied him, quietly or not, it got better. Maybe it was how little she cared for life that she let him get away with so much, or maybe it truly was for all that he had and had already done. This kind of submission, however, was well above her limitations with her loosely defined work. The sick and twisted way she treated others was turned back onto her and she met it with unexpected welcome.

Wren could feel him inside her with a thick pulse, trying to catch her breath on weakened lungs as he cooed in her ear. All Wren could hear was the meaning in between the words, like he was making fun of her somehow, like he almost knew how much of a defeat it was for her. But he didn’t know anything, and what was worse was how often he did things she liked without having to voice them. She despised the idea that she was just as shallow and heartless and how someone so entirely different could be a mirror of herself. It would be to admit she was vain and vile, not above degradation at the sake of her own dignity, so easily swayed by a stranger and thoughtless when she didn’t have the means to be.

His hand returned to its favorite spot at her neck and squeezed, the buzz of a moan against the flesh of his hand. Each time his fingers slid down her body between her thighs she shivered, bumps rising on her skin as his fingers inched between their legs. Wren sputtered and squeaked out what sounded like begging, muttered pleases among the choked out groans of desperation. He didn’t care that her body was flush pink from overstimulation, or that she was swollen at each and every pinch and pull she’d suffered under his hand. He didn’t even have to ask for screams, because they were just about the only breath she could get out. The first sound was strangled in her throat, heavier and guttural the next time, face twisted as if in pain when in truth it just added to the pleasure, clasping on to the couch like a lifeline, begging, praying to a god she didn’t even believe in to let her have this release and to give him the same desperation she carried so deeply within her.

When she was right in the middle of her peak, a low hum shook her body as he tugged her to his chest by her hair. It made her squeeze around him, cut up moans as he pinched his fingers, pulling as if to mock her. The action made her jerk against him, hand clutching at his wrist for a moment as if it might do something to help. She was greedy. Wren had to imagine that was half her appeal, and that he didn’t want a shy or scared woman. He liked when she did what she wanted because in some way it must have reminded him of himself.

Wren fought the urge to smile again. A combination of the sharp sting of his fist in her hair and threats did nothing but clearing her mind of thought. She had half a mind to remind him that she already did, knowing it would provoke him and stir whatever punishment he was talking about. There wasn’t much energy she could expend towards him in such a vulnerable position, and her only weapon was that he couldn’t stop and control her body.

She listened, heart leaping out of her chest as he listed off threats in her ear again. “Whatever you say.” She met him with a wistful answer, no sarcasm or smugness, not even a smile. Behind it however, there was a pleased tone to her voice, still reeling. Wren knew there was nothing he could do about it now, and without a way for him to take it back from her she gained a sense of vanity.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized with no real reason to be so, no care in how genuine it sounded at all. Her body felt hot, shaking under the surface as he dragged her body around like a limp doll, content when he didn’t spare a second to remove himself from her. “I promise I’ll behave.” You could hear the strain in her voice, like they might have just escaped her throat. She didn’t mean for everything she said to sound like a provocation when the very fact that she’d given him total control was a significant submission in itself. Wren wanted to seek out his punishment, but found herself uniquely spent.

Her skin practically sizzled as he hung over her, warm and slick as she felt her pleasure collect between her legs and his own. Even though he’d never left, Wren felt an anger forming that he was sitting idle inside her. She wanted him to rut into her again, a cold shiver running in her spine when she felt him at her back. Wren did what she could do to nestle herself in closer, trying to covet every inch with what limitations she had by his hand, feeling whole but void of the urgency in his body. She knew she was being selfish but she didn’t care. Her desire to have it all was consuming, feeling like she might let herself crack to ash in the palm of his hand if it would please him.

[wrenxpalmer]

When she was right in the middle of her peak, a low hum shook her body as he tugged her to his chest by her hair. It made her squeeze around him, cut up moans as he pinched his fingers, pulling as if to mock her. The action made her jerk against him, hand clutching at his wrist for a moment as if it might do something to help. She was greedy. Wren had to imagine that was half her appeal, and that he didn’t want a shy or scared woman. He liked when she did what she wanted because in some way it must have reminded him of himself.

Wren fought the urge to smile again. A combination of the sharp sting of his fist in her hair and threats did nothing but clearing her mind of thought. She had half a mind to remind him that she already did, knowing it would provoke him and stir whatever punishment he was talking about. There wasn’t much energy she could expend towards him in such a vulnerable position, and her only weapon was that he couldn’t stop and control her body.

She listened, heart leaping out of her chest as he listed off threats in her ear again. “Whatever you say.” She met him with a wistful answer, no sarcasm or smugness, not even a smile. Behind it however, there was a pleased tone to her voice, still reeling. Wren knew there was nothing he could do about it now, and without a way for him to take it back from her she gained a sense of vanity.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized with no real reason to be so, no care in how genuine it sounded at all. Her body felt hot, shaking under the surface as he dragged her body around like a limp doll, content when he didn’t spare a second to remove himself from her. “I promise I’ll behave.” You could hear the strain in her voice, like they might have just escaped her throat. She didn’t mean for everything she said to sound like a provocation when the very fact that she’d given him total control was a significant submission in itself. Wren wanted to seek out his punishment, but found herself uniquely spent.

Her skin practically sizzled as he hung over her, warm and slick as she felt her pleasure collect between her legs and his own. Even though he’d never left, Wren felt an anger forming that he was sitting idle inside her. She wanted him to rut into her again, a cold shiver running in her spine when she felt him at her back. Wren did what she could do to nestle herself in closer, trying to covet every inch with what limitations she had by his hand, feeling whole but void of the urgency in his body. She knew she was being selfish but she didn’t care. Her desire to have it all was consuming, feeling like she might let herself crack to ash in the palm of his hand if it would please him.

As soon as his fingers slipped between strands of her hair she knew what would come next, having spent most of this time being tossed and toyed with. Her body was nearly spent from the rush of the thrill, face flush, sweat sheen on her body as it filled with heat. Without much choice in the matter her body curled from the tension, back arched in worse a manner than when he’d pressed her face into the pillows. It seemed the most vulnerable positions he loved to have her in, indulging in the heavy swing of how much power he knew he held over her.

Arms steadying themselves as he tugged, Wren felt the strain from his hold and like the rest of the pain, she welcomed it. She was far too desperate, too high off chasing her pleasure to fight him. Wren forgot about the control she had in her own life, how effortlessly she toyed with men and how swiftly this one undid it. The strangled moan that left her lips was unrestrained and quickly joined by whines from her half open mouth.

For how tight he held her hair it was a wonder she managed any moans, unconcerned with her limit of movement and how much of it she could concentrate elsewhere. It almost hurt to slide back onto him, eyebrows knitted together as he drove into her with a madness. It fit just right, enough to cause just a hint of pain and more than enough to satisfy. It was so unfair that this would only validate him even more and she knew that when she left, despite her long list of broken rules that she might think of this, and how she might never have it again.

Unable to help herself as she felt her limbs weaken and get heavy, Wren glanced back to send herself just over the edge. Her eyes hung half open and in a daze, watching to the side as he gripped her, sweet curses leaving his mouth. Immense greed and satisfaction filled her as she watched, his mouth open just so and eyes locked on each stroke he made inside her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t belong to her, because he was just as lost in his lust, just as consumed by his desire - and all his desire focused on her. Wren felt the wetness collecting between her thighs, clenching as he buried himself deeper. Digging her nails into the fine fabric, her voice gave to a new pitch, needy whines rolling in and reeling over. Her eyes had closed shut and a stretched smile grew on her face as she convulsed, unbothered by the lack of protection or common sense. Her legs carried a tremble as he kept his pace, driving into her as she came to her climax.

[wrenxpalmer]

As soon as his fingers slipped between strands of her hair she knew what would come next, having spent most of this time being tossed and toyed with. Her body was nearly spent from the rush of the thrill, face flush, sweat sheen on her body as it filled with heat. Without much choice in the matter her body curled from the tension, back arched in worse a manner than when he’d pressed her face into the pillows. It seemed the most vulnerable positions he loved to have her in, indulging in the heavy swing of how much power he knew he held over her.

Arms steadying themselves as he tugged, Wren felt the strain from his hold and like the rest of the pain, she welcomed it. She was far too desperate, too high off chasing her pleasure to fight him. Wren forgot about the control she had in her own life, how effortlessly she toyed with men and how swiftly this one undid it. The strangled moan that left her lips was unrestrained and quickly joined by whines from her half open mouth.

For how tight he held her hair it was a wonder she managed any moans, unconcerned with her limit of movement and how much of it she could concentrate elsewhere. It almost hurt to slide back onto him, eyebrows knitted together as he drove into her with a madness. It fit just right, enough to cause just a hint of pain and more than enough to satisfy. It was so unfair that this would only validate him even more and she knew that when she left, despite her long list of broken rules that she might think of this, and how she might never have it again.

Unable to help herself as she felt her limbs weaken and get heavy, Wren glanced back to send herself just over the edge. Her eyes hung half open and in a daze, watching to the side as he gripped her, sweet curses leaving his mouth. Immense greed and satisfaction filled her as she watched, his mouth open just so and eyes locked on each stroke he made inside her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t belong to her, because he was just as lost in his lust, just as consumed by his desire - and all his desire focused on her. Wren felt the wetness collecting between her thighs, clenching as he buried himself deeper. Digging her nails into the fine fabric, her voice gave to a new pitch, needy whines rolling in and reeling over. Her eyes had closed shut and a stretched smile grew on her face as she convulsed, unbothered by the lack of protection or common sense. Her legs carried a tremble as he kept his pace, driving into her as she came to her climax.

Again, as if the words had any means of satisfaction her mouth hung open and into a groan, feeling his fingers working her open after he had his fill of her mouth. Her arms suddenly felt so heavy, eyes full of worry only to match the sounds. They only sharpened when he stretched his fingers, knees buckling as her mouth conjured nothing but weak whimpers, leaving her in somewhat of a slump. There was something so pleasing about how sick it was, how good it felt to lose all sense to someone with such uncertain intent. As if she was dragging her body around like his personal toy, just for the thrill of being able to have more of it.

Wren had always taken actions for what they were because words were just fickle and meaningless. It piled on that she was doing everything she promised herself she wouldn’t, something that would’ve otherwise been deemed a personal failure and somehow still, made it even better. Mind in disarray, Wren found herself crying out, wishing her mouth could fight him off, to tell him to stop talking. Just another rule he seemed determined to undermine, throwing around curious declarations that she was too lightheaded to focus on. There was no need for them, unfit for the duration of their acquaintance and worst of all, they were clinging to her like the sweat on her flesh. The only sounds to join her needy cries were the wet noises of his fingers inside her, coupled by his baseless promises.

As if to cement the idea of his indifference further, she felt the cold press of his hands on her back and then her head, face pressed into the pillows as he steadied himself at her hips and slid in. Her ragged moan was stifled, breath hitching into a whine as she turned her head and pressed her ear against the pillow, taking air in strangled groans. She brushed the hair from her face, palm settling beside her with clenched nails. Even if she had any room between breaths to speak, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreement, her body giving it away.

For all the concentration he had to tease her, she felt a wave of relief wash over her, full and dizzy as he pulsed inside her. Her wide eyes came to a close, practically melting into the sofa as another smile lit up her face. Her mind was sending messages to a body that refused to listen, imagining all he meant was how pleased he was at the way she fit around him, unconvinced it could have any deeper meaning. Wren met his pace and slid back onto him, digging her nose in the pillow as her hands balled in fists beside her.

[wrenxpalmer]

Again, as if the words had any means of satisfaction her mouth hung open and into a groan, feeling his fingers working her open after he had his fill of her mouth. Her arms suddenly felt so heavy, eyes full of worry only to match the sounds. They only sharpened when he stretched his fingers, knees buckling as her mouth conjured nothing but weak whimpers, leaving her in somewhat of a slump. There was something so pleasing about how sick it was, how good it felt to lose all sense to someone with such uncertain intent. As if she was dragging her body around like his personal toy, just for the thrill of being able to have more of it.

Wren had always taken actions for what they were because words were just fickle and meaningless. It piled on that she was doing everything she promised herself she wouldn’t, something that would’ve otherwise been deemed a personal failure and somehow still, made it even better. Mind in disarray, Wren found herself crying out, wishing her mouth could fight him off, to tell him to stop talking. Just another rule he seemed determined to undermine, throwing around curious declarations that she was too lightheaded to focus on. There was no need for them, unfit for the duration of their acquaintance and worst of all, they were clinging to her like the sweat on her flesh. The only sounds to join her needy cries were the wet noises of his fingers inside her, coupled by his baseless promises.

As if to cement the idea of his indifference further, she felt the cold press of his hands on her back and then her head, face pressed into the pillows as he steadied himself at her hips and slid in. Her ragged moan was stifled, breath hitching into a whine as she turned her head and pressed her ear against the pillow, taking air in strangled groans. She brushed the hair from her face, palm settling beside her with clenched nails. Even if she had any room between breaths to speak, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreement, her body giving it away.

For all the concentration he had to tease her, she felt a wave of relief wash over her, full and dizzy as he pulsed inside her. Her wide eyes came to a close, practically melting into the sofa as another smile lit up her face. Her mind was sending messages to a body that refused to listen, imagining all he meant was how pleased he was at the way she fit around him, unconvinced it could have any deeper meaning. Wren met his pace and slid back onto him, digging her nose in the pillow as her hands balled in fists beside her.

It was a strange feeling, taking a backseat to the voice of reason in her head. Nothing about this felt all that safe, and even when it was good it was usually followed or preceded by something cruel and confusing. It didn’t bother her to separate the truth from fantasy, but the line was graying, becoming uncertain and tumultuous. The only answer seemed to be her lack of resistance and how easy it was to bend her at will, how much he liked to test her limits.

Wren thought the natural reaction to her teasing would be met with something of a relief, that he might give her what she wanted without playing any more games. Like most everything else this night she’d been wrong, and she would be again. He took her hand, and pulled the straps down from her dress, leaving nothing left to the imagination. Wren thought on how this was the fastest failed con job she’d ever been in, the no doubt expensive dress lost to her as he whipped her in the air and threw her down on a couch.

Already short of breath, Wren was panting as she felt him rush behind her, palm guiding the small of her back in an arch. Now she was on all fours as his fingers slid over the dip of her waist. She hadn’t expected to feel even more exposed than she had all night, but being in this position, practically on a silver platter like the main course was so much worse. Worse because she couldn’t see what he might do next, only imagining he was slick with sinister glee.

Feeling him over the length of her back, Wren felt a hand stretch forward, a demand quick to be made nearly as soon as she settled into position. The next thing that happened, however, earned him a whimper of shock and disgusted delight. It was pathetic how much she really liked everything he was doing to her, how quickly she obeyed his commands and slid her tongue over his fingers, sucking his fingers, wondering how they weren’t flushed with warmth the same way her body was. It didn’t stop her from letting him press them deep in her throat, eyes watering as they rolled back into her head. She felt the aching throb at her core as it twitched, void of satisfaction as he played with her mouth, strangled whines leaving her mouth when they weren’t full of his fingers.

[wrenxpalmer]

It was a strange feeling, taking a backseat to the voice of reason in her head. Nothing about this felt all that safe, and even when it was good it was usually followed or preceded by something cruel and confusing. It didn’t bother her to separate the truth from fantasy, but the line was graying, becoming uncertain and tumultuous. The only answer seemed to be her lack of resistance and how easy it was to bend her at will, how much he liked to test her limits.

Wren thought the natural reaction to her teasing would be met with something of a relief, that he might give her what she wanted without playing any more games. Like most everything else this night she’d been wrong, and she would be again. He took her hand, and pulled the straps down from her dress, leaving nothing left to the imagination. Wren thought on how this was the fastest failed con job she’d ever been in, the no doubt expensive dress lost to her as he whipped her in the air and threw her down on a couch.

Already short of breath, Wren was panting as she felt him rush behind her, palm guiding the small of her back in an arch. Now she was on all fours as his fingers slid over the dip of her waist. She hadn’t expected to feel even more exposed than she had all night, but being in this position, practically on a silver platter like the main course was so much worse. Worse because she couldn’t see what he might do next, only imagining he was slick with sinister glee.

Feeling him over the length of her back, Wren felt a hand stretch forward, a demand quick to be made nearly as soon as she settled into position. The next thing that happened, however, earned him a whimper of shock and disgusted delight. It was pathetic how much she really liked everything he was doing to her, how quickly she obeyed his commands and slid her tongue over his fingers, sucking his fingers, wondering how they weren’t flushed with warmth the same way her body was. It didn’t stop her from letting him press them deep in her throat, eyes watering as they rolled back into her head. She felt the aching throb at her core as it twitched, void of satisfaction as he played with her mouth, strangled whines leaving her mouth when they weren’t full of his fingers.

Her mind could not separate what she was feeling in her body, no counter for the snide reminder that she was, in fact, very naive. She was so sure that this was a fetish or some sick thrill, to flaunt a power she could not conceive. It clouded her vision and critical thought, breath thinning to a gasp as he clutched her neck tight. It was then and only then, when she couldn’t find the words between a wall of forced silence, that her eyebrows lifted in confusion. Foolish little human. He said the words with a coldness and a separation, confounding her.

Wren watched his eyes and the very real danger behind them, unable to reconcile with those three little words. She felt her legs buckle as if they’d suddenly taken on weight, mouth hanging open in shock and pleasure. Instinct made her hands hold onto his wrists like it would do anything to stop him, clasping gently at the fabric of his sleeve. His grip tightened on her throat, leaving her in limbo as she struggled to stay upright and catching swells of breath in short bouts. Her mind was fuzzy, trying to piece together what he wanted. Now there was nothing except the powerless whines and pants that only encouraged him to go faster, another finger joining the two.

If he needed to guess without words he would find the answer between her legs, which had only gotten wetter since he fastened his hold on her neck. Was it the entertainment of feeling superior, of knowing the world was in his hands, her life included? If he was and his words were true what stopped him, nothing stood in the way. Her mouth was full of shorted, needy whimpers, and that stare he seemed to resent so much remained. Wren wished it pained him, fighting against her heavy, bliss filled eyes with certain defiance before they met their end by rolling back into her head.

Questions beat against her brain with an alarming frequency. A contradiction, the way he slipped from flagrant threats to something possessive, covetous. Wren would have asked him a million and one questions, but met his lips with an equal eagerness like she wasn’t repeatedly threatened with death some minutes before. Wren could barely breathe, pulling her lips from his to let another tortured sound fall into his mouth.

He seized the opportunity then, to bite her hard enough she was sure he drew blood and even that wasn’t off putting enough because she could hear the pleasure in his throat. Feeling like she was chasing a lethal high, she paid no mind to his words, they made less sense than the rest. Stupid, special, forever - the words rattled before slipping out each of her ears, retaining none of the levity and finding no truth. All of it had to be centered in some genre of sadism, this swing from each extreme to the next.

Something in her body felt titillating in a way she didn’t notice before. It felt like thoughtless bliss, hot and cold all at once, and Wren pressed her forehead to his with a sudden urgency, shifting her body back to give her hands just a sliver of space for selfishness. Her fingers were frantic as they reached for his belt and made quick, haphazard work of the buckle. Her hand pushed raced through his button and half his zipper, long, shaky fingers wrapping themselves around the base of his erection over the fabric and hilted him with a squeeze, thumb circling over the wetness created by his precum. A breathless moan fell into the air at the sight, then another like a praise or to him a taunt. “For me?” She breathed, hand reaching inside to stroke him at the flesh while he worked her open with his fingers.

[wrenxpalmer]

Her mind could not separate what she was feeling in her body, no counter for the snide reminder that she was, in fact, very naive. She was so sure that this was a fetish or some sick thrill, to flaunt a power she could not conceive. It clouded her vision and critical thought, breath thinning to a gasp as he clutched her neck tight. It was then and only then, when she couldn’t find the words between a wall of forced silence, that her eyebrows lifted in confusion. Foolish little human. He said the words with a coldness and a separation, confounding her.

Wren watched his eyes and the very real danger behind them, unable to reconcile with those three little words. She felt her legs buckle as if they’d suddenly taken on weight, mouth hanging open in shock and pleasure. Instinct made her hands hold onto his wrists like it would do anything to stop him, clasping gently at the fabric of his sleeve. His grip tightened on her throat, leaving her in limbo as she struggled to stay upright and catching swells of breath in short bouts. Her mind was fuzzy, trying to piece together what he wanted. Now there was nothing except the powerless whines and pants that only encouraged him to go faster, another finger joining the two.

If he needed to guess without words he would find the answer between her legs, which had only gotten wetter since he fastened his hold on her neck. Was it the entertainment of feeling superior, of knowing the world was in his hands, her life included? If he was and his words were true what stopped him, nothing stood in the way. Her mouth was full of shorted, needy whimpers, and that stare he seemed to resent so much remained. Wren wished it pained him, fighting against her heavy, bliss filled eyes with certain defiance before they met their end by rolling back into her head.

Questions beat against her brain with an alarming frequency. A contradiction, the way he slipped from flagrant threats to something possessive, covetous. Wren would have asked him a million and one questions, but met his lips with an equal eagerness like she wasn’t repeatedly threatened with death some minutes before. Wren could barely breathe, pulling her lips from his to let another tortured sound fall into his mouth.

He seized the opportunity then, to bite her hard enough she was sure he drew blood and even that wasn’t off putting enough because she could hear the pleasure in his throat. Feeling like she was chasing a lethal high, she paid no mind to his words, they made less sense than the rest. Stupid, special, forever - the words rattled before slipping out each of her ears, retaining none of the levity and finding no truth. All of it had to be centered in some genre of sadism, this swing from each extreme to the next.

Something in her body felt titillating in a way she didn’t notice before. It felt like thoughtless bliss, hot and cold all at once, and Wren pressed her forehead to his with a sudden urgency, shifting her body back to give her hands just a sliver of space for selfishness. Her fingers were frantic as they reached for his belt and made quick, haphazard work of the buckle. Her hand pushed raced through his button and half his zipper, long, shaky fingers wrapping themselves around the base of his erection over the fabric and hilted him with a squeeze, thumb circling over the wetness created by his precum. A breathless moan fell into the air at the sight, then another like a praise or to him a taunt. “For me?” She breathed, hand reaching inside to stroke him at the flesh while he worked her open with his fingers.

Walking on thin ice already, Wren knew at some point she would face the repercussions of her actions. Some men could be coerced into submission, some liked the rush of a chase and very few were like this. There was a sense of influence for those with wealth beyond her imagination and in it the awareness that everyone and everything was in your width of reach. There was nothing they couldn’t do, no one they couldn’t have, Wren no different than the rest.

It also meant everyone in your life was disposable, and it was something she knew all too well. No one would know it, that she harbored all this knowledge from experience the way she so willingly handed it over. As much a selfish act for him, it was for herself. There was no shame in admitting she’d met him not long before and she didn’t feel shame for how it may have looked to him. To him, she was just an exciting evening and it mattered less knowing she’d probably never see him again anyway.

There was a look in his eye that finally filled its purpose instilling some measure of fear in her heart. The same as before, unrelenting, the same way predators kept their eyes hyper focused on their prey. The reality of it was that she absolutely loved it, feeding on it like a hunger. Sure she was playing along with his game, but now she was playing herself. Wren felt just as immoral as him, using him for personal reasons, but at least they were using each other with nothing to gain but flesh. His hand traveled to her neck, an action of surprise.

It lacked violence and in fact it was so gentle the notion didn’t need elaboration. If he wanted to cause her pain nothing would stop him. One eyebrow perked, all the efforts of controlling her breathing gone. A long and sinful smile spread along the ends of her mouth. No one had ever touched her this way and it should have scared her, given her more than enough reason to run the other way. Moans fell freely from her mouth at his touch, welcoming the gesture.

Wren could feel his fingers as they slid over her, eyes narrowing themselves at him. It became increasingly apparent both of them were rotten to the core, feasting on whatever evils they could pull from one another. “I’m just..” some fragments of words, too wistful to hear. “Just a stupid girl..” It was almost like she mimicked his own words back to him. In every way it felt harrowing maintaining his gaze but still vital, almost a challenge. “You’re just so convincing.” Her right hand joined his and found his fingers, guiding his index and middle to her clit. It was more difficult keeping that smile now, eyes glazed and half open in pleasure, almost smug as she moaned. “If you want it so bad, take it.”

[wrenxpalmer]

Walking on thin ice already, Wren knew at some point she would face the repercussions of her actions. Some men could be coerced into submission, some liked the rush of a chase and very few were like this. There was a sense of influence for those with wealth beyond her imagination and in it the awareness that everyone and everything was in your width of reach. There was nothing they couldn’t do, no one they couldn’t have, Wren no different than the rest.

It also meant everyone in your life was disposable, and it was something she knew all too well. No one would know it, that she harbored all this knowledge from experience the way she so willingly handed it over. As much a selfish act for him, it was for herself. There was no shame in admitting she’d met him not long before and she didn’t feel shame for how it may have looked to him. To him, she was just an exciting evening and it mattered less knowing she’d probably never see him again anyway.

There was a look in his eye that finally filled its purpose instilling some measure of fear in her heart. The same as before, unrelenting, the same way predators kept their eyes hyper focused on their prey. The reality of it was that she absolutely loved it, feeding on it like a hunger. Sure she was playing along with his game, but now she was playing herself. Wren felt just as immoral as him, using him for personal reasons, but at least they were using each other with nothing to gain but flesh. His hand traveled to her neck, an action of surprise.

It lacked violence and in fact it was so gentle the notion didn’t need elaboration. If he wanted to cause her pain nothing would stop him. One eyebrow perked, all the efforts of controlling her breathing gone. A long and sinful smile spread along the ends of her mouth. No one had ever touched her this way and it should have scared her, given her more than enough reason to run the other way. Moans fell freely from her mouth at his touch, welcoming the gesture.

Wren could feel his fingers as they slid over her, eyes narrowing themselves at him. It became increasingly apparent both of them were rotten to the core, feasting on whatever evils they could pull from one another. “I’m just..” some fragments of words, too wistful to hear. “Just a stupid girl..” It was almost like she mimicked his own words back to him. In every way it felt harrowing maintaining his gaze but still vital, almost a challenge. “You’re just so convincing.” Her right hand joined his and found his fingers, guiding his index and middle to her clit. It was more difficult keeping that smile now, eyes glazed and half open in pleasure, almost smug as she moaned. “If you want it so bad, take it.”

There was a certain level of vigilance required for situations like this and even though she had in every other instance been safe, it only took one exception. That being said, her body did none of what her mind warned her to do. She knew she practically asked for it, whatever might be coming to her, but it felt too good to leave. She felt dizzy, hair raising at how close he now was. It was as if the very mention of how naive she was being made it better. He was absolutely right, she was smarter than this. Heartbeat rapid at her chest, Wren found her eyes rolling back for a short moment accompanied by a heated, audible breath.

Wren indulged in how experienced he seemed to be at this, like sex but almost better. She could feel her own pulse, the heat rising on her skin and with her free hand she slid it over his own. In truth, she hadn’t been that narrow of a person. She used men for money as far as she could get without sacrifice, and took whatever else she needed and wanted with ease. She felt entitled to what she stole, felt it deserved of those who had everything while she had next to nothing. If she was in any kind of danger it would be with purpose, knowing full well the consequence. She wanted to be here playing his little game, being the object of his attention, missing the way it felt when it wasn’t a con job. He was pressed to her body, breath tickling in her ear as he took in her smell, and she could feel how hard he was. Had she been any more stupid she might have slept with him that very moment.

Even his seemingly cold fingers couldn’t give her any relief to how hot her body felt as they traced up her thighs, breath hitching at the sight. The pace felt excruciating, his lips touching her ear with words of warning and encouragement. Exasperated and quick of breath, Wren let her hands slide over his sleeves as he crept higher, terror in her chest when she felt his fingers tug on her panties and pull them off. She watched it happen, the flimsy fabric slipping off at her feet, mouth hanging open when it was completely gone. Still tucked in to his arms, she watched as he dangled the delicate fabric over his finger.

She smoothed over the length of his sleeve with her hand absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze. “That would be too easy..” Wren sighed, voice soft and airy. “I think you like it…not getting what you want. You’d get bored fast. I’d never see you again.” She turned at the metal cuffs on his sleeves, head crooning to his cheek in what little space she had to do so. “You already have everything you could possibly want..”

Wren put some distance between them before he could seize the opportunity of her provoking, a little so she could catch her own breath. She turned to face him, keeping her hand in his own, helping to tuck the lace fabric into his pocket. She could feel herself pressing on dangerous lines, big, curious eyes meeting his gaze as innocent as could be, hanging on the end of his hand with some of her weight as a signal. “Should we go downstairs? Or is it too much for your heart to handle knowing how wet I am under this dress?”

[wrenxpalmer]

There was a certain level of vigilance required for situations like this and even though she had in every other instance been safe, it only took one exception. That being said, her body did none of what her mind warned her to do. She knew she practically asked for it, whatever might be coming to her, but it felt too good to leave. She felt dizzy, hair raising at how close he now was. It was as if the very mention of how naive she was being made it better. He was absolutely right, she was smarter than this. Heartbeat rapid at her chest, Wren found her eyes rolling back for a short moment accompanied by a heated, audible breath.

Wren indulged in how experienced he seemed to be at this, like sex but almost better. She could feel her own pulse, the heat rising on her skin and with her free hand she slid it over his own. In truth, she hadn’t been that narrow of a person. She used men for money as far as she could get without sacrifice, and took whatever else she needed and wanted with ease. She felt entitled to what she stole, felt it deserved of those who had everything while she had next to nothing. If she was in any kind of danger it would be with purpose, knowing full well the consequence. She wanted to be here playing his little game, being the object of his attention, missing the way it felt when it wasn’t a con job. He was pressed to her body, breath tickling in her ear as he took in her smell, and she could feel how hard he was. Had she been any more stupid she might have slept with him that very moment.

Even his seemingly cold fingers couldn’t give her any relief to how hot her body felt as they traced up her thighs, breath hitching at the sight. The pace felt excruciating, his lips touching her ear with words of warning and encouragement. Exasperated and quick of breath, Wren let her hands slide over his sleeves as he crept higher, terror in her chest when she felt his fingers tug on her panties and pull them off. She watched it happen, the flimsy fabric slipping off at her feet, mouth hanging open when it was completely gone. Still tucked in to his arms, she watched as he dangled the delicate fabric over his finger.

She smoothed over the length of his sleeve with her hand absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze. “That would be too easy..” Wren sighed, voice soft and airy. “I think you like it…not getting what you want. You’d get bored fast. I’d never see you again.” She turned at the metal cuffs on his sleeves, head crooning to his cheek in what little space she had to do so. “You already have everything you could possibly want..”

Wren put some distance between them before he could seize the opportunity of her provoking, a little so she could catch her own breath. She turned to face him, keeping her hand in his own, helping to tuck the lace fabric into his pocket. She could feel herself pressing on dangerous lines, big, curious eyes meeting his gaze as innocent as could be, hanging on the end of his hand with some of her weight as a signal. “Should we go downstairs? Or is it too much for your heart to handle knowing how wet I am under this dress?”

There really wasn’t a playbook on how to do these things and if there was, she was already breaking a few rules of common sense and safety. Nothing about this seemed conventional or even sensible, and even if she’d been for the most part of her own and sound of mind, she felt drawn to him. A lot of it she could attribute to the game she knew they all played, and she was so seasoned she played along too. It wasn’t in her plans to undress herself some moments after this near stranger barely asked.

It was actually something of a thrill for her to be at someone’s will. Not so often had she willed herself to strange men, as much as she juiced them for what they were worth. “Oh, uh huh..okay.” She might have not believed him fully, but it wouldn’t have mattered now. Maybe a little of it was the well received gifts, the way in which she was absolutely delighted by the gifts. Wren would probably find it funnier later the way his eyes glanced every which way at her nude body. It felt polarizing, like being the subject of a painting, arms full of raised hairs. Seemingly never holding back from containing his joy came a long, sinister smile. However fruitless it may have been, she liked that he liked what he saw.

“We’re being a little presumptuous aren’t we?” She added, a shadow of a smile. She felt the chill of his hands again when they trickled over the surface of her skin briefly, trying to work on the overtime her heart had been working into. When smiled to herself as he pulled the zipper up, glancing to meet his eyes. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” She smiled warmly, although it was really just her nerves settling down. It was less scary to feel him behind her than in front, drinking her in.

She laughed again, a real chuckle, at the thought. “Don’t be coy now that you’ve seen me naked, I know you’re not scared to say what’s on your mind.” She turned her head forward, feeling now unable to look at him and enjoying the short seconds of him touching her hair. “It actually seems like no one’s really stopped you before.” She sighed, swallowing the beginnings of a sharp breath. He was so gentle with his hands, each move and thought intentional. “I hope you don’t think it’s going to be that easy, I know what you guys say about American girls.” She kept her eyes forward, feeling a hand press to her rib where her uncertainty seemed to collect, smile uncertain and thrilled all the same. “I’d love to play dress up with you later but I do want to brag a little first.”

[wrenxpalmer]

There really wasn’t a playbook on how to do these things and if there was, she was already breaking a few rules of common sense and safety. Nothing about this seemed conventional or even sensible, and even if she’d been for the most part on her own and sound of mind, she felt drawn to him. A lot of it she could attribute to the game she knew they all played, and she was so seasoned she played along too. It wasn’t in her plans to undress herself some moments after this near stranger barely asked.

It was actually something of a thrill for her to be at someone’s will. Not so often had she willed herself to strange men, as much as she juiced them for what they were worth. “Oh, uh huh..okay.” She might have not believed him fully, but it wouldn’t have mattered now. Maybe a little of it was the onslaught of attention, the way in which she was absolutely delighted by the gifts he presented her with. Wren would probably find it funnier later the way his eyes glanced every which way at her nude body. It felt polarizing, like being the subject of a painting, arms full of raised hairs. Seemingly never holding back from containing his joy came a long, sinister smile. However fruitless it may have been, she liked that he liked what he saw.

“We’re being a little presumptuous aren’t we?” She added, a shadow of a smile. She felt the chill of his hands again when they trickled over the surface of her skin briefly, trying to work on steadying her heart as it beat against her chest. Wren smiled to herself as he pulled the zipper up, glancing to meet his eyes. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” She smiled warmly, although it was really just her nerves settling down. It was less scary to feel him behind her than in front, drinking her in.

She laughed again, a real chuckle, at the thought. “Don’t be coy now that you’ve seen me naked, I know you’re not scared to say what’s on your mind.” She turned her head forward, feeling now unable to look at him and enjoying the short seconds of him touching her hair. “It actually seems like no one’s really stopped you before.” She sighed, swallowing the beginnings of a sharp breath. He was so gentle with his hands, each move and thought intentional. “I hope you don’t think it’s going to be that easy, I know what you guys say about American girls.” She kept her eyes forward, feeling her hand press to her rib where her anxiety seemed to collect, smile uncertain and thrilled all the same. “I’d love to play dress up with you later but I do want to brag a little first.”

Wren felt an air of ego fill her head, something that didn’t happen much anymore. And it wasn’t that he necessarily knew what to say, but more that he knew that much of himself. Maybe a little too forward, but these types hardly had anything to lose and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been feeding into it knowingly. She had to admit she liked the feeling of leaving a job she didn’t want to do, hand placed in the crook of his arm as those who were already sick of her performance exchanged words between ears. She wasn’t often one for envy as long as it wasn’t money from her hands, but in some deep, dark place his action catered to a desire she hadn’t cared to give focus. She, too, did not feel that she was meant for a life of hard work, that all the suffering and toiling before should be rewarded and not extended.

He led her through some of the halls she recognized from earlier until she didn’t, the rooms getting larger until they opened themselves up for her, a large staircase the focus of the great room. Everything was rich, detailed, ornate in the most obscure sense. The deeper she went into this place the more it silenced her, captivated by the art and attention to architecture. An observer of patterns, there were certain things one came to recognize when dealing with those in the affluent lifestyle. She couldn’t give it an estimation, and tried not to focus on what she might have to do to benefit as he seemed to willing to do it on his own.

When they finally made it up what felt like years of stairs they entered another massive room, this one empty save for dresses on countless racks. How convenient, she thought, too much so. She questioned if there might be some woman who would be loathe to catch the two of them together, but kept her comments to herself for the time being. She certainly looked amused, smiling to herself as he sifted through the sleek gowns. Wren watched as he plucked a dress and walked over, laying it over her with careful summation. It really was a beautiful dress. He handed it to her, a very serious look in his eye and then, a demand. “Here?” She looked at him when her eyes had made their way around the room. When he didn’t answer she took it for what it was.

This, for her, was a first. She didn’t let on in words that this sent her nerves into overdrive, searching his eyes and then looking down and laughing softly. An isolated event, Wren surprised even herself, like she was feeding into everything no matter the consequence. It felt too good to be given this much attention, the expensive gift the icing on the cake. He was feeding all the manipulative things she would’ve had to do herself, and she felt herself unusually willing to bend. Slinging the soft fabric over her arm she made work of unbuttoning her shirt, heart nearly jumping out of her chest when she looked at him again with full eyes. “Sisters?” She said with an upward motion of the arm that held the dress. “Girlfriends? Or is it a wife?”

She smirked, though she felt less confident than she ever had, trying to make conversation for the sake of her nerves as she slid the shirt off her shoulders and to the floor. “I hope they don’t mind that I’ll be borrowing this.” She made quick work of her pants which unbuttoned and fell, and moved to unclasp the bra that would have ruined the look of the dress. She couldn’t help the nervous hitch of her breath when almost fully exposed, no matter the façade, but there was no going back now. Her long hair would be her be her only cover as she slipped it off her shoulders, unzipping the dress and stepping into it, pulling her arms through the straps. Now, with free hands she collected her hair, neck perched in a tilt as she straightened the length of her hair over her shoulder. “Do you mind?” She asked, an invitation to help her zip the dress in place.

[wrenxpalmer]

Wren felt an air of ego fill her head, something that didn’t happen much anymore. And it wasn’t that he necessarily knew what to say, but more that he knew that much of himself. Maybe a little too forward, but these types hardly had anything to lose and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been feeding into it knowingly. She had to admit she liked the feeling of leaving a job she didn’t want to do, hand placed in the crook of his arm as those who were already sick of her performance exchanged words between ears. She wasn’t often one for envy as long as it wasn’t money from her hands, but in some deep, dark place his action catered to a desire she hadn’t cared to give focus. She, too, did not feel that she was meant for a life of hard work, that all the suffering and toiling before should be rewarded and not extended.

He led her through some of the halls she recognized from earlier until she didn’t, the rooms getting larger until they opened themselves up for her, a large staircase the focus of the great room. Everything was rich, detailed, ornate in the most obscure sense. The deeper she went into this place the more it silenced her, captivated by the art and attention to architecture. An observer of patterns, there were certain things one came to recognize when dealing with those in the affluent lifestyle. She couldn’t give it an estimation, and tried not to focus on what she might have to do to benefit as he seemed to willing to do it on his own.

When they finally made it up what felt like years of stairs they entered another massive room, this one empty save for dresses on countless racks. How convenient, she thought, too much so. She questioned if there might be some woman who would be loathe to catch the two of them together, but kept her comments to herself for the time being. She certainly looked amused, smiling to herself as he sifted through the sleek gowns. Wren watched as he plucked a dress and walked over, laying it over her with careful summation. It really was a beautiful dress. He handed it to her, a very serious look in his eye and then, a demand. “Here?” She looked at him when her eyes had made their way around the room. When he didn’t answer she took it for what it was.

This, for her, was a first. She didn’t let on in words that this sent her nerves into overdrive, searching his eyes and then looking down and laughing softly. An isolated event, Wren surprised even herself, like she was feeding into everything no matter the consequence. It felt too good to be given this much attention, the expensive gift the icing on the cake. He was feeding all the manipulative things she would’ve had to do herself, and she felt herself unusually willing to bend. Slinging the soft fabric over her arm she made work of unbuttoning her shirt, heart nearly jumping out of her chest when she looked at him again with full eyes. “Sisters?” She said with an upward motion of the arm that held the dress. “Girlfriends? Or is it a wife?”

She smirked, though she felt less confident than she ever had, trying to make conversation for the sake of her nerves as she slid the shirt off her shoulders and to the floor. “I hope they don’t mind that I’ll be borrowing this.” She made quick work of her pants which unbuttoned and fell, and moved to unclasp the bra that would have ruined the look of the dress. She couldn’t help the nervous hitch of her breath when almost fully exposed, no matter the façade, but there was no going back now. Her long hair would be her be her only cover as she slipped it off her shoulders, unzipping the dress and stepping into it, pulling her arms through the straps. Now, with free hands she collected her hair, neck perched in a tilt as she straightened the length of her hair over her shoulder. “Do you mind?” She asked, an invitation to help her zip the dress in place.

“I like the cold.” One of her more truthful statements, though it probably sounded like groveling. She hadn’t spent much time between islands and in the summer sun, favoring the climate that seemed to suit her body. “Picking apart the psyche..dissecting the mind and motivations, all of that was fine until the penis envy.”

One of the more frustrating parts of this interaction had been her lack of preparation for it. A varied number of pre-planned scripts existed in which she could pull from, sometimes with it a deviation of self, but at the very least a practiced performance. He veered off her expectations with fluid motions, making her feel like the mark she thought she’d seen in him. She opened her mouth to object, a skeptical smile inching the edge of her lips. His voice rose in demand, a swift slap of his hands to curb the direction of their attention, orchestrating a public termination. “You know in America, I could sue you for that.” She tried to hide her laugh. “Wrongful termination.”

He was swift in unlacing the strand tying her apron tight, throwing it in a bunch on the table with an ease that was almost too smooth. Coming from where she did came the base understanding of why people did what they did, learned less savory skills for their next meal or a roof over their head. It made her uneasy how nimble he moved around her, and had it not been for her curiosity staying put might have seemed the safest option.

Truth be told she liked the fear of the unknown. All of the signs were there that this may be a bad choice and she knew but she still wanted to find out for herself. She’d never been in a situation she couldn’t handle alone, and followed him with a skeptical look, though her heels had already turned to follow suit. “Are we not already at one?” She asked, hoping for an even better one around the corner.