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Introduction:

An Ashe Doused, An Ember Ignited
I entered the compound with Eimi in tow. She said nothing as she traipsed along in her dark violet, open-toed platform shoes. She looked all around her, from the fence encircling my estate, to the low buildings that surrounded the central house. From our vantage point, she could see the three small houses in the front yard, and the escarpment that demarked the front and rear of my property. The other three homes, the training grounds and the Oriental gardens remained hidden from view. The thick, well-kept lawns glowed in the light from the downward pointing halogen lamps. They flooded the lawn with bluish tinted radiance. The grass burned like emerald fire. She gazed with delight upon the statues that dotted the property. They were of figures from Korean, Japanese and Sumerian myth. Eimi dropped to her knees and picked up a chunk of gleaming quartz from one of the two channels that ran along the sides of the access road to the main house. The central house, a three level Victorian, dominated the landscape. Growing up, I had always admired those old-fashioned types of homes. My mother had often taken me with her on her cleaning runs. It would be fair to say that I had grown-up in mansions, although I never made it past the foyer. Now I was the Lord and Master of my own estate. Unfortunately, my parents did not live to enjoy my success. They had died during my foreign excursions.

"Very pretty," she said, turning the rock over in her lithe, dexterous fingers. "You have a true eye for beauty, and for order." She let the quartz drop to the driveway. Without thinking, I kicked it back into the drainage channel she had originally taken it from.

"A very strong sense of order," she quipped. She bent over and unbuckled the dual straps that clung to her slender ankles. Her exquisite ass rose like a fiery, maroon moon. Its small, well rounded surface strained delightfully against the tight confines of her hip-hugger stretch pants. She stepped out of her unbuckled platforms then straightened, scooping up a shoe in each of her small hands. She immediately dropped four inches in height. She seemed even younger this way, even more the fey creature. Eimi stood just over five feet tall. Five foot two, perhaps. She skipped over the side drain, and landed on the plush lawn. Her dainty toes flexed as she kneaded the cool, trimmed grass between them, much as a cat would its favorite blanket prior to bedding down.

"I love grass. Feels so good against the skin." She ran to the house. Her long hair streamed behind her. The shoes flailed wildly in her hands, held only by their ankle straps. The silver buttons sewn on the outer seams of her maroon pants twinkled brilliantly in the floodlights. She looked so happy here. So carefree. My heart ached when I looked at her. I resolved to remember her just as she looked at this moment, full of the boundless exuberance of a child. She knew what the bird in flight knew. Ultimate freedom. Savour it, my little dove. I would clip your wings soon enough.

I reached Eimi, who stood at the front entrance. She had cast her shoes to one side of the thick oak door. She now paced the breadth and width of the porch, constantly in motion, as if she feared to stop. I reached over and pulled her to me by the spaghetti straps of her ruby halter-top. She gasped in surprise as I lifted her up by her armpits. She rose on her tiptoes to reach me, balancing comically. I lowered my dreadlocked-covered head and pressed my mouth to hers. My strong tongue speared into her mouth repeatedly, partaking of the nectar that pooled therein. I humped her face with my tongue roughly, thinking only of my pleasure, not of hers.

I started to walk forwards. Eimi back-walked until her shoulders pressed tightly against the front door to the house. My hands roamed over her body, concentrating on her pert breasts and her high, firm ass. I kneaded those ass cheeks like a baker did his dough. She squirmed in her pleasure. Sighs of arousal slipped down my throat as I ravaged her mouth with mine. I plunged deeper, my tongue reaching as far back into her as I could. I expected her to gag, and to push me off of her. She did not. She accepted everything I did to her without complaint.

I broke our kiss, and looked at her abused face. Her bright eyes sparkled with an inner fire. At last. Her lips parted slightly, still glistening with the dew we had been sharing. She looked up at me in expectation. I was a six-foot four, two hundred and twenty pound black man, a solid mass of scar tissue and attitude. She didn't seem fazed at all. She had almost been raped in an alley, and now had been carried off to the home of a complete stranger. It didn't seem to bother her. What kind of screwed-up life had she been living? "We're going in," I said, as I reached for my keys. Man, I was going to fuck her silly when I got inside. I couldn't wait to see her naked.

§§§

She made me wait to see her naked.

From the moment she entered my home, she made it her own. She flitted through the rooms like a sylph sailing on the winds through my domain. I did not stop her. It only made sense that she become used to her surroundings. You see, I intended to keep her here. The idea had entered my thoughts during the long cab ride , and had cemented in my mind when I saw how happy she had looked on the lawn. Here, she could feel safe. It was not merely altruism that drove me. We still shared that eerie connection. I did not want to let her go until I decided exactly what it meant.

But what would I do if she did not want to stay?

"A beautiful home, Andrew. Please show me to the bathroom. I must get clean."

I smiled at this. So Japanese, my little Eimi was. She smiled back at me, light flooding her face with happiness. The sun truly does rise in the East, I mused. Was she only responding to my smile, or pleased that she had pleased me? I preferred to think it was the latter. I eased her halter and bra straps down the slope of her satin shoulders until they clung to the sides of her arms, Bardot-style. This left me with a glorious expanse of golden, smooth skin. I trailed my large hands from her shoulders, up the sides of her neck. My thumbs caressed her sculpted chin and jaw. Her head tilted back, throwing her straight black hair into a gorgeous silken spread over her shoulders. In this position, her breasts pushed out, revealed by the low-cut ruby halter and her demi-bra. How I wanted to pull them out, and feast on those succulent globes. Instead, I decided to wait. I had plenty of time to play with.

"I have many bathrooms here, Eimi. I will take you to your very own." I picked her up effortlessly, and carried her up the stairs to the second floor. She could have that one, I decided. This strictly Western floor had none of the Oriental or Middle Eastern styling that permeated the decor of the other two levels. I hoped she would like it here. I bore her to the bathroom and stepped inside. My cock raged against the black material of my slacks, almost shredding them to ribbons in its haste to escape its imprisonment.

"Easy, boy," I thought to it. "Soon. Very soon." I placed Eimi on her feet and touched the light sensor. "I do hope you enjoy it," I said. Her expanding eyes told me that she would, indeed.

I had modeled it after the one at the Hotel Waldorf Madeleine, in Paris. Those fucks had denied me entrance a few years back. The rest of my unit had booked accommodations there without any grief. Of course, I was the only brother in the lot. So much for Equality, Brotherhood and Liberty. Fucking French hypocrites. I truly hoped that they enjoyed the little present I sent them. I heard that they only recently managed to scratch up enough capital to completely rebuild the destroyed eighth floor. I designed my lavatory based upon the video footage that my mercenary buddies gave me about their nights at the Waldorf. Man, the freaky shit that they got into with those French whores blew my mind. When I saw some of the intense things that you could do with those innocuous looking brass fixtures and fittings, I couldn't wait to install some of them in my own home. Why, they even managed to...

But I digress. Sorry.

Eimi ran into the bathroom, squealing with delight. She clapped her petite hands together in unfeigned glee. "I may use it? Truly?"

"Of course." I passed my hand around the room in an expansive gesture of magnanimity. "All you see is for your exclusive use. Fresh towels are here. Soaps, body washes and lotions are over here." I quickly gave her the rundown of where I kept the necessities. "The Jacuzzi and sauna are through those doors behind you. However," I paused dramatically, "the use of the facilities come with a price." My squat, thick cock pulsed in agreement.

Eimi graced my twitching groin with a brief glance as she padded around the ivory, gold and marble bathtub. "Everything good in life has a price attached," She said. "I didn't expect this to be any different."

"We understand each other, then. Good. That makes things easier." I motioned her over to me. She complied, without delay. "Strip me."

Her nimble hands picked at my belt buckle and deftly undid the catch. She concentrated solely on her task. Her eyes stayed glued to my waist. I grabbed a handful of raven silk as she popped my buckle.

"Yeah. Unzip my fly. Remove my slacks." She did as I commanded. The cool, smooth skin of her hands played over the ripples of my muscular legs. Her slight touch traced the masses of scar tissue on them. "What have they done to you," she asked. Her low pitched voice quivered. She sounded as if she was about to cry. Fuck! I didn't want her sympathy. I just wanted her. This emotional display would kill my enjoyment if left unchecked. I roughly pulled her upwards by the roots of her hair. She gasped in pain as she rose to meet me.

"My shirt next. Take it off." She quickly unbuttoned my black shirt and peeled it off of me. I had to change hands, passing the captured mass of her hair from one palm to the other as she peeled off my Ermenegildo Zegna twill shirt. Eimi kept her eyes downcast, not daring to look me in the eyes. I released her hair but stayed ready to grab her again if she tried to bolt. She didn't budge. I took off my undershirt and stood before her in all of my glory. "Look at me, Eimi." I forced her chin up. Her face dropped into a sulky pout. A sliver of tongue moistened her aroused, puffy lips.

Eimi's hands ran over my chest, gently probing the scars that crisscrossed my frame. She did not comment upon them. She just skimmed the tracks of my injuries as if committing them to memory. "You seem fascinated by those," I said. "Don't trouble yourself with them. They healed a long time ago."

"They do not hurt you anymore," she corrected. "I don't think they ever healed."

Who the fuck was this chick, anyway?

Her small round breasts stuck out against the sheer fabric of her fuck-me halter, its thinness incapable of concealing the turgid nipples. They made sharp points against the tight, thin material. Those nubbins instilled a lust in me that I had seldom felt. I read the glittering onyx kanji once again. 'Fuckable Piece,' eh? I would soon find out for myself.

I gripped the halter at the center and tugged hard. It ripped easily, splitting like ancient, rotted cloth. Her tits popped into view, two perfect, mitt-sized globes delightfully supported by the lavender demi- bra. Her burnished copper nipples stuck out proudly from her creamy breasts. The brassy areoles had a sheen to them, seemingly slick with olive oil. I bent my head to her breasts and suckled at one. My tongue washed around her areola and flicked at her sensitive nipple. The little pebble grew between my lips, almost to a half-inch. I playfully gripped the tender morsel between my teeth and pressed down upon it. Eimi gasped. I started to chew upon her tit, tugging the nipple in and out of my mouth as I chewed upon it. She seized a mass of my dreadlocks with both of her hands, shivering uncontrollably.

I moved to her other breast and repeated the treatment. The first spit-slick mound gleamed in the bathroom lights. My handiwork thrilled me.

As I straightened, I stuck an index finger between the slight mounds of her lips. I fucked that digit in and out of her exquisite mouth, the girl's swirling tongue working around it in frenzied abandon. Man, I couldn't wait to jam my little son in there and skull-fuck that face of hers.

The now-lubricated finger slipped down the crease of her belly, coming to rest at her navel. It was a deep, narrow gash. More a slit than a hole, really. A smile flicked across my thick lips. God had blessed her with two cunts. I gently stroked the area around her navel, and then stuck my index finger inside it. My finger worked in and out of this second cleft, soundly reaming her belly button.

This is a very sensitive spot for many women. There's nothing pleasant about a man's finger jamming inside of it. Eimi whimpered as I forced my digit into her, her ass shooting backwards as she sought to escape my probing finger. My other hand moved to her smooth butt and pressed it back into position. I gave her navel a solid jab with my index finger in retribution. She gasped loudly. I couldn't help but notice that her nipples darkened in hue, and grew even longer. Ah. She got off on discomfort, perhaps even mild pain. Good. I had much more of this type of play planned for her.

"Stay still," I whispered to her. My mouth neared her right ear. "Close your eyes, Eimi. Don't move. And don't resist me. Now, stand with your legs about two feet apart. Yes. That's it." I ran my hands down the inside of her thighs, stopping at her knees and then sliding up the outside of her legs, all the way past her waist. My hands continued upwards, gliding over her ribs as they made their way to her magnificent breasts. I mauled these, torturing her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. "Put your hands behind your back, with your fingers laced together. Yes. Like that. No matter what I do to you, you are to remain in this position. Do you understand?" I pinched down hard with both of my hands. Eimi hissed from behind clenched teeth.

"Yes." Her voice sounded husky, inflamed with passion.

"Do not speak," I said as I tapped a finger against her lips. She sucked it in without any prompting from me, working it in and out of her mouth frenziedly. "Do you understand?" Eimi, madly sucking upon my finger, nodded in the affirmative. Good girl. She learned quickly. I kissed her gently on each of her closed eyelids, and then took a couple of steps back. I wanted to admire her.

Eimi stood spread-legged with her hands clasped behind her back. The posture made her small, round breasts poke obscenely forwards, high on her chest. The nipples speared upwards, threatening to touch the very ceiling. They groped heavenwards like a plant seeking the life-giving warmth of the sun. But I knew what her nipples really sought; the pleasure of my touch, the moist heat from my mouth. Her flat stomach trembled, breath tearing in and out of her lungs in a ragged fashion. She sounded like a bellows at the hands of an inexperienced, apprentice smith. The sounds of her arousal made my cock twitch in anticipation.

I quickly approached her and let my hands explore her exposed flesh. Her skin trembled under my fingertips. Her body began to glow with a thin film of perspiration. Her steaming skin seemed to effervesce under my gentle ministrations. I moved to stand behind her then began roughly massaging her breasts. How I loved those glorious mounds! Her hands remained clasped behind her back, approximately at my groin level. She rubbed them against my sac and balls, stimulating me. She kept her fingers laced together as I had earlier instructed.

Excellent.

I licked the sweat that ran down the runnel of her spine. She tasted like the nectar of a flower, with only the slightest trace of salt. My lips worked down her spinal column, tongue jabbing indiscriminately, like a serpent tasting the air. I felt her involuntary shudders from under my lips and tongue. So encouraged, I applied more pressure to her golden skin. I nibbled at her flesh like some kind of exotic fruit.

My face came to rest at the gentle swell of her hips, where they spread to form the curves of her ass. I stuck my tongue down the triangular hole formed by the rising globes of her ass and her super-tight hip-huggers. She moaned. I nipped at the top of an exposed ass cheek, hard enough to make her squeal.

"Silence," I admonished her. I saw her head nod. I loved this feeling, the feeling of being in total control, of manipulating another human being like a marionette. What made it more exciting for me was the knowledge that it all could end at any time. I would not rape her. That was for the weak and pathetic, like those clowns in the alley. She could end our play at any time she wished. What she allowed to happen would dictate the flow of our game. This knowledge made each act of submission on her part much more special. Each act may well be the last that she permitted. Even knowing this, I was determined to push her as far as she would allow.

I continued to kiss and tongue the visible parts of her ass cheeks as my hands gripped her hips, forcing her tighter against me. The low-cut pants did not conceal her sharp hipbones. I could feel the creases of her legs that sloped towards her crotch. She must shave. The waist of her pants lay well below the line that her pubic hair would start from, yet, all I could feel was bare, smooth skin. She began to grind her hips, her ass swaying to some unheard rhythm. My hands crept forward, seeking the apex of her desire, the warmth of her goddess's mound. I massaged her through the tight material of her pants. She suddenly stiffened. Her whole attitude changed. Her head was no longer thrown back. Instead, she leaned forward, as if looking to see what my invading fingers were doing to her privates.

"No," I commanded. "Eyes closed, and head back." I squeezed down roughly on her cloth-shrouded box. Breath rushed out of her lungs as if I had punched her in the gut. I reached up and yanked on a handful of her ebon hair. Her head snapped back. My other hand continued to rub against her vagina with increased roughness. She made odd noises as she sucked in air from behind clenched teeth. I continued to work at her snatch, waiting for her to complain. She did not. Satisfied, I returned my full concentration to the mauling of the exposed portions of her ass with my tongue and lips. I let my right hand gently caress her mound, my finger swirling in delicate, complex patterns with a touch light enough to leave dust undisturbed.

Warmth spread over my fingers. The crotch of her hip-huggers became sodden with her joy-juice. The rich aroma of heated woman filled my nostrils, burning fiery tracks through my overheated brain. "At last," I growled. I placed my hands over her ankles and massaged them. They were slight, fragile things. I could encircle them in my meaty hands quite easily. I slid my hands upwards slowly, enjoying the feel of the hot, twitching woman beneath my palms. My hands stopped at the first pair of silver buttons stitched on the outside seams of her pants. I hooked my index fingers around them and flicked hard with my thumbs, as if they were bottle caps. The silver buttons clattered away, becoming lost in some far corner of the bathroom. Eimi flinched at the sound but remained quiet. My hands continued their trek upwards, stopping to perform their little trick at each pair of buttons. Swaths of perfectly tuned leg peeked through freshly-opened side seams. I began to pop those buttons with increased rapidity. The sounds of buttons became a constant cacophony of clanging metal on white marble tile as I continued my inexorable trek north. Eimi's forced, ragged breath sounded loud in my ears.

Soon, my dear. I'm almost done.

I reached the top pair of buttons, these large, tightly stitched affairs sewn onto the waistband of the pants. They did not pop off as easily as the others had. Instead, I grabbed these large silver buttons between my index and third fingers and pulled straight outwards. I applied my full strength to my task. Another barrier had fallen. I pulled the savaged purple material free of Eimi's gorgeous legs. The ruined pants dropped to the bathroom floor.

Eimi stood before me, fresh and pure. The globes of her ass seemed larger once freed from their confinement. I could no longer contain myself. I dove forward. I'd die without it.

My inflamed lust burned hot on the fuel of her fantastic body. That perfect ass, baked a golden brown both by birth and by the rays of the sun beckoned me forward. I tongued the faint tan lines made by some absent bikini. Her delicately seasoned and scented flesh reminded me of flowers. "Lavender," I said out loud between mouthfuls of ripe, lush, ass flesh.

How could I not want to eat her alive? She with the eyes shaped like almonds, licorice-colored hair, and who oozed honey from her cleft? God created her to sustain me. My tongue darted between her ass cheeks, butting against the puckered oyster of her anus. The Guardians of her inner-spaces came together, bunching into a tight brown knot to deny me access.

Fuck that!

My stiffened tongue shoved the sentries aside as it burrowed deep into her castle courtyard. Eimi gasped, both in pleasure and in alarm.

"No," she pleaded. "I am filthy there."

I jabbed my tongue into her a few more times, as much for her speech as for my own pleasure. Her gasps made the rest of her words a babbling fountain of incoherence.

I rose in front of her, undoing the front clasps of her demi-bra. Her unfettered breasts did not change shape at all. Shit! She didn't need that bra for support in any way. She must have worn it only for looks. Perhaps it felt good against her skin. Right now, it was only an obstacle that had to be removed. I pulled it from her, undoing her laced hands to allow the garment to slip off her arms unhindered. I tossed the bra away. Eimi stood as I had left her, arms at her sides, mannequin-like. She waited for me to position her body in any manner I desired. I laughed. I'd found my very own fuck-toy. I tilted her head forward and kissed her mouth. She responded well, her tongue encircling mine and sucking it in. She seemed to enjoy me as much as I enjoyed her. I let her have her way with me for a few more moments before breaking off the kiss.

"Ready to bathe, my dear?" I asked her. I drew her bath and added some of my favorite soaps and oils to the water. Eimi stood unmoving, head back, eyes closed. Only now, her legs were closed and her hands placed demurely in front of her sex. Of course, this made her breasts compress together, emphasizing them.

I had treated the water with the lavender and lilac oils and soaps, in deference to her preferred color scheme and to the natural tastes and smells she seemed to possess. From this moment on, lilac and lavender would be her scents and her colors. I'd make sure that she had adequate clothes in those shades. Lilac. Lavender. Lilac and Lavender Livery. I giggled like an idiot. The alliteration pleased me almost as much as the woman did herself. Rarely did I enjoy myself so much, especially during a sexual encounter. Sex was a need, but seldom a pleasure for me. But Eimi. She seemed to bring out the child in me. This wasn't just sex. it was an adventure. The acts themselves were mundane, but seemed incredibly exciting when done with her. I wondered how far I could go with this game.

"Are you ready for the bath, my dear?" I asked her. Her mouth parted, then closed again. She hesitated, seemingly confused. She nodded instead of speaking. I smiled. I had wondered whether she would speak out of turn or not. She was everything that I could have asked for. "Come to me," I commanded. I seized her by the moist valley between her legs and pulled her over to the bath.

Eimi struck my hand away. All vestiges of the lust-induced torpor she had been in vanished. Her eyes glittered with anger. The orbs looked as livid as the angry purple bruise that graced her cheek.

"No," she said, wagging a perfectly sculpted opalized-violet fingernail at me. "Never touch me there. Never."

Eimi strode around me, lowering herself into the steaming hot bath I had drawn for her. Her eyes closed as she sunk into the foamy waves. Deep, contented sighs escaped her lips as the heated water and scented oils did their work on her tense body. I watched her in silence, confounded by her illogical outburst. Don't touch her there? Where, her snatch? I had been frigging that through her pants for a good ten minutes already! Was it the bare skin contact that bothered her, or the demeaning way I had pulled her over to me? No more demeaning than ripping up her clothes or pulling her around by the roots of her hair. I won't lie to you; I was perplexed.

When in the military, and later as a mercenary, one axiom had constantly been drilled into my head: When confused, inaction often means death. Act. Never simply react. With that in mind, I decided to continue our play as if nothing had happened.
More fool me, right?

I leaned over to Eimi and kissed her forehead, her ruined cheek. She flinched, but did not protest. My kisses made their way down the side of her neck, and to her smooth shoulders. My right hand plunged into the water, stroking her taut belly. She moaned softly, enjoying my touch. I massaged her stomach. The tight muscles relaxed, turning to soft pliant flesh beneath my kneading palm and fingers. I took her mouth again, my tongue luxuriating in the silken hot recesses that made the steaming bath water feel cool by comparison. Our tongues dueled, fighting for supremacy. She felt much more aggressive than before. That was cool. This, too, excited me. I loved women with spirit. We continued to kiss as my hand stroked her stomach, and then slipped downwards towards her woman's place. Upon reaching it, I stroked its full length, from her anus, over her folds, right on up to her rock-hard clit in one long pass.

A small hand held me by the throat and pushed me backwards as the other hand caught me on the side of the face with its back. Eimi's lightning-quickness shocked me, as did her strength. That dainty hand felt like a chunk of tempered steel sheathed in satin. The blow brought stars to my vision. It had been so unexpected, I hadn't been able to prepare for it. The motes that obscured my vision cleared as Eimi rose from her bath. Caps of white froth clung to her high breasts, thighs and belly.

"You don't listen, Andrew Grissolm," she accused. "Don't touch me there. No one may." She shook in her rage, the tremors jiggling her foam-gilded breasts enticingly. "Why do you not just accept the things I'm giving you? Why do you seek more from me than I am willing to share?"

To say that she felt upset was to call a Tsunami a breaker in a wave pool. "This play is over," she announced, sounding like a hostess in a Japanese Soapland. "We talk price. Now."

"Price?" I repeated stupidly. I wish that I did not sound so flummoxed. My usually deep, baritone voice squeaked. If Eimi noticed, she did not say.

"Price. Time is money, Andrew Grissolm. One hundred and fifty dollars per half hour, as I stated when we first met. It's just past twelve. You owe me six hundred and fifty."

"Six hundred and fifty. Dollars. Ah. I see. Are you fucking ill?" My voice dropped low, well into the danger zone. I seized her by the upper arm. Hard. I felt my eyes open up, straining at the edges. My nostrils tingled, as they did when I became extremely agitated. I was well known for my hot temper. Back in the day, my comrades walked lightly when I was in this state. Ever see a bunch of ex-marines and British commandos pussyfooting around? Hilarious, I assure you. Well, Eimi would have none of it. Stature of a mouse, heart of a lion. Her jet eyes regarded me like she would a child who had yet to learn proper manners. She looked... embarrassed. My actions were beneath me, her pitying gaze said.

"Release me immediately. You hurt me."

Shit! How I longed to squeeze even harder, bear down until I felt her bones splinter beneath my grip. I had more than enough strength and skill to do so. Hell, I had been trained in the art of breaking bones and dislocating joints. Instead, I released her arm as she had requested.

Requested? Ordered, if I had to remain honest with myself.

Her arm now sported five reddish mars where my finger pads had dug into her tender flesh. Before my eyes, dark pools formed in the dents my fingers had made. The blood-marks bulged outwards slightly, like blisters. Eimi coolly eyed the damage done to her once-perfect, golden skin.

"Seven hundred, Andrew Grissolm." 'Andrew Grissolm.' How I'd grow to hate my name spoken in that special way she had when pissed off. "Six hundred by rate, fifty for my inconvenience, and another fifty because of your rough treatment of me. Must I add another hundred for my ruined clothing?"

My mouth worked soundlessly. Seven notes. Man, I hadn't even busted a nut yet! I'd be buggered if she saw a fucking cent.

"I don't pay for sex, Eimi," I reminded her.

"That's why you see so little of it," she countered. She climbed over the lip of the ivory, gold and white marble bathtub and stepped into the glass-encased shower unit in the corner of the room. The high-pressured burst of water rinsed the few remaining suds from her. She scrubbed her hair, and then squeezed it out. She flicked it over her shoulder. It smacked loudly against her back, hanging in one long black mass, a river of silken ebony strands. Fuck, I wanted that ass so badly, my nuts hurt. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

"I must dry myself and get ready for bed. Please leave the light on and the door open in the chamber I am to occupy. I sleep nude, so no sleepwear need be provided for me. Have a suitable set of clothes ready for me in the morning. I intend to leave here quite early."

"Anything else," I asked wryly.

"My fee, of course. Did I truly have to mention it again? Have my money ready."

Eimi industriously started to dry herself with the plush, terry-pile bath sheet. I noticed that she spent an inordinate amount of time on her breasts and cunt. Ah... her breathing was getting harder! She was bringing herself off, right before my eyes. I started to take a step toward her when she spoke again.

"You are not needed here, Andrew Grissolm. Go and do what I asked you to." She moved the thick toweling away from her cunt and spread the flaps of her box open, exposing her aroused clit to me. Its engorged, raw looking length poked out at me, as rigid as a little prick. Eimi's thumb rapidly skated over it. Her digit blurred as it flicked over her pleasure button. Her chest heaved as she worked on herself. The barest hint of bright pink tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth, practically gleaming against her lips. Her hot body was a stark contrast to her frosty eyes. They pinioned me in place with their icy stare. She did this to punish me, I realized. "Look what you could have had, if you hadn't fucked it all up," her eyes seemed to say. Her dark, accusing eyes crept closed as she began to whimper. She was close.

Man, I couldn't take any more of this. I fled the bathroom. The shrill cries of Eimi's self-induced orgasm echoed in the hallway. Annoyed, I slammed the bathroom door shut. It didn't help. Her screams of rapture reverberated in my brain. I was still horny, no doubt, but I felt something else that drained all of the lust out of me.

Shame.

I felt small as I stood naked in the hallway. My hangdog-penis seemed to mirror my feelings. My behavior in the bath was no different that the actions of those two thugs in the alley. I had done something to her body that she explicitly told me not to do. Perhaps the scale differed, but the infraction remained the same. I was no better in her eyes than those two rapists. That shouldn't matter to me. Hey, she was just a slut rented out by the hour, right? Three hundred bones per hour, at that!

Unfortunately, it did matter. It mattered a great deal.

It was with a heavy heart that I went to prepare Eimi's room. Preparing it took moments only. After all, I lived here alone and I stayed mostly on the third floor. As requested, I left the light on and the door open, then I took off for my rooms on third. Yeah. Pathetic. Some tough guy I was. Leave it to me to tuck my tail between my legs - or prick, in this particular case - and run away from a hundred pound, five-foot-something woman. Fuck, the situation seemed hilarious, even to me! I had, through a rather Byzantine process, hired a hooker, failed to fuck her, and now was going upstairs to whack myself off. Worse, I was on the hook for seven C's for the bloody privilege. Ludicrous.

I laughed as I climbed the circular staircase to the third floor. My day had started badly, remained rotten, and had ended up worse than I could have ever imagined. I prayed that tomorrow would be better.

Yeah, I know. I should have known better.
1 comments

READERReport

2004-02-15 11:39:37
salu les filles

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