Asrai Devin

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” ― Sylvia Plath

More than Friends: Showtime

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If you are just joining us, this is a series that was supposed to be a two post and it took over my life. For real, it’s sometimes all I think about, trying to unravel what will happen next, but the answer is always the same: keep writing and see where they take me.

You can find the other chapters here. 

 

Taylor insisted one more paid show from Chloe. And he’s going to make sure she delivers.

 

Thursday night, show night. A public show. I dress in my new lingerie I picked up on the way home from work. In the bathroom, I apply eyeliner with a shaky hand. Mascara isn’t as tricky, the red lipstick matches my outfit, a lacy merrywidow hooked up to red stocking with matching lace panties.

My mind is distracted from the makeup, leaned against the sink I remember Taylor fucking me in the bar bathroom. I have to check because my memory of him calling me slut is so clear I could swear he’s in the room.

My thighs are sticking together as I return to my bedroom. I log on and test my cam and mic.

My show is crap because I watch the clock the whole time waiting for my private show with TJ. My regulars lap it up anyway. I end it early, saying I have a headache.

I am on the edge of my chair, my box of toys beside me, while I wait for TJ to log on.

There’s a knock on my door. I grab my phone and send Taylor a message.

Chloe: That better not be you.”

Taylor: I have a key, but I’d prefer not to use it.”

Chloe: You aren’t paying me for sex.”

The front door opens. I go to the bedroom door and consider locking myself away from him. Might as well face the inevitable argument. I open it and Pussy rushes in to rub herself around my feet. Poor neglected kitten, I scratch her head.

“I’m not paying you for sex.”

His voice makes me jump, but I lift my head slowly. He stands on the other side of the bedroom door, looking sexier than he has a right to be when I’m mad. His hands go up, showing he won’t touch me. Why is he here?

I back up and he follows until I’m against my bed. “This will be a private show but only a show. I will not touch you.”

“But…” My eyes dart frantically around the room as I realize his meaning. I straighten my back and shoulders and meet his inflamed gaze. He smiles and reaches for me, but then catches himself.

“I bought some new toys for you Cinnamon.” He pulls a backpack from his shoulder and pats it.

I want to argue he’s not supposed to be buying me things, but they aren’t returnable. I sit on the edge of the bed, then jump back to my feet. “Can I sit, Sir?”

“Yes spice. I like the outfit. Red, my favorite color.”

“Did you watch my public show?”

“The start of it. You seemed distracted.”

“I was. I had an interesting night last night.”

“Are you going to share your private life?”

“It wasn’t a private moment, at least four people knew we were fucking in that bathroom.”

“Dirty slut.” He lifts his head from the bag. “If I could touch you, I would lick the skin showing between the slits of your top.”

I look down at my outfit. A ribbon holds the lace panels together, they crisscross down my abdomen. He knows how to spark my fire, my eyes flick up.

He holds out something dark and metal. I frown as I reach out and take them. “What is it?”

“Clover clamp. I think you need an upgrade in the torture. If there is weight added to the rings they tighten. We’ll add weight later if you can handle it without.”

“Should I attach them now?”

“Yes.” I expose my right breast first and open the clamps. I bite my bottom lip as the clamp closes on my nipple. I whimper and squirm and Taylor watches me, his eyes growing more intense.

“Safe word?” he asks.

I shake my head, to prove the point I slip the second side on. It hurts to the core and my panties are not made to deal with the flood coming out of my pussy.

“Do you like it?”

I nod as my body absorbs the shock of pain. I can’t imagine if they were tighter, but it is more delicious than the typical alligator clamps in my box. “It’s very arousing.”

“Good to know. Keep your panties on, I want to see them so wet I can see through them.”

“I don’t think they need to be wet to be transparent.” My legs spread and I rub my hand along the slit to soak my desire into the thin fabric. I pull it so it’s stretched over my lips, everything but exposed.

“I can smell it. Slide your fingers underneath, get your fingers wet, suck them off. Slowly Cinnamon.”

I don’t need to thrust inside to get wet my fingers. The ache in my nipples is making me a river of desire. My hand is shaking when I lift it to my mouth. I pull my fingers inside and use my tongue to clean them off.

A moan escapes my chest, deep and primal. I want his mouth on my cunt. I want him to fuck me. Any touch from him would be gratifying.

I lick my lips. HIs eyes on me is more than I can handle, my body shudders. Fuck, I’m coming. I grip the edge of the bed as it overtakes my body. It passes quickly, but leaves me limp.

“DId you come?”

“Yes, Sir. I couldn’t help it. You staring at me and the pain and my scent, it was too much.”

He doesn’t react. “Take off your panties, Chl—Cin.”

I unsnap my garters from the stockings. I contemplate his reaction as I hook my thumbs in the sides of my panties and pull them down, careful not to let them catch the stockings on their way to my ankles. The sway of the clamps makes me wince.

He’s watching eagerly, his mouth slightly open, his breath falling out. He’s back is against the wall beside my closet, his stance wide as he leans on the wall, digging in for the long haul.

“All those men on their computers watching you. They don’t know it’s an imitation, a facsimile. They don’t realize what they are missing. We all want to own a piece of you, but through the screen it lacks the heart and soul.”

I suck in a lungful of air. I’d speak but my mouth is parched, his words depleted any capacity to respond.

“In person, there’s so much spirit and energy. You are brazen and raw sensuality. I want to tame you, own you. I can dominate you, but I can never possess you. Fuck if I don’t want to.”

He pushes away from the wall and I am certain for a moment he’ll grab me, kiss me, fuck me. Instead he moves to the computer chair. He picks up my toy box from the floor and sets in on his lap. He opens it and looks inside.

“A whole box just for pleasure. Some of them are for pain, but even pain brings you pleasure. Doesn’t it?”

I sweep my tongue around my lips and summon the courage to speak. “Yes, Sir.”

“You aren’t just a dirty slut, you’re a pain slut.”

“I like when you tell me to hurt myself.” I suck on my thumb while we look at each other.

“Dirty pain slut. Grasp the ring attached to the right nipple clamp and pull it a little while I decide what I want to see next.”

I hook my finger into the ring on the clamp and ease it down, each movement down makes it squeeze tighter. I don’t pull it far because the pain is blinding, not arousing.

“Let go,” he says, moving toward me with a dildo in one hand, my favorite vibrator in the other.

I drop my hand and the tension eases, back to arousal.

“It’s so hard not to touch you,” he whispers in my ear as he drops the toys in my lap. I grab them before they roll away. “Speaking of hard.” He’s back in the chair, grabbing his package, and shaking it.

“Tomorrow I’ll explain my reasons,” I choke out. “Which first?” I hold up the toys. Back to the task at hand.

The change in topic doesn’t phase Taylor, he replies, “Dildo. Fuck yourself for me, Cin.”

I drop the vibe to the bed. “I may need lube.” A moment of brattiness has grabbed me.

“You’re a slut, you’re soaked from the pain. Do you need a heavier dose? Pull on the left ring, hard.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just—”

“Pull on the ring Chloe.” He launches himself from the chair and takes two steps toward me.

I glare at him and he catches himself. I tug on the ring, tightening the hold on my sensitive nub. A fresh wave of liquid overflows from my pussy.

We have a battle with our eyes. Taylor dares me to disobey his commands. I wonder what he’d do if I did, what punishment would he come up with? Would it be now or when he could touch me?

I look away first. “Let go.” HIs voice is hoarse, strained. Controlled Taylor is not so controlled. Could I make him lose it completely?

I drop my hand and spread my legs, sliding the dildo inside my drenched cunt. I fuck myself with it furiously. It whets my appetite, but it will never satisfy.

I wish Taylor was holding me, kissing me while I do this. But it’s my own insipid rules that keep him sitting in my computer chair. I’ve come so many times in that chair while talking to him.

“Are you going to touch yourself?” I ask, slowing the show of masturbation.

“No. I want to focus on watching your pleasure.” His eyes are wide with arousal, fists clenched as his sides. Is he fighting his desire to touch me?

I want him to shove his face in my cunt and lick my clit until I can’t move. I want him to drown in my desire.

Admitting that would break my rules. The need makes me groan, but I can pretend it’s the way my fingers swirling around my cunt, around the dildo. I gather the dew on my fingers, so I can lick it off, so I can show him what he does to me.

His tongue moves against the air as mine moves against my fingers. I pretend he’s licking me.

He looks at his watch. “You should remove the clamps it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

“You only paid for a thirty minute session.”

“Take off the clamps and make yourself come slut.” His brows raise in challenge.

I bite my lip in anticipation of the blood rush to my nipples. It will hurt like hell. I pull one off, the agony makes me howl and I throw myself back, clutching my breast.

“Calm yourself down and roll your nipple between your thumb and finger.”

“I can’t,” I wail.

Taylor is standing over me with a stern face. “You can and you will.”

I gulp in some air as the torment slips away. I roll the tender nub as ordered until it feels good.

“Now the other nipple, but grab it as soon as you slip the clamp off.”

I hold my breath and pull it free. The blood rushing through burns, my fingers can’t grab the teat for several heartbeats, and then finally it catches. I pinch and roll until the spark catches fire in my body.

“Vibrator,” he whispers in my ear. I could turn my head and touch him, but I’d be breaking my rules.

I grope at the bed, unable to find the energy to sit or even move my head. Taylor presses it into my hand. I flick the switch on and press it against my clit, unsure if I have the energy to come.

“Maybe next time I’ll have you put one of those clamps on your clit.”

His words buzz through my body. This is why I love him. The next moment the orgasm slams into me like a meteor, burning, fast, hard, leaving an impact.

I can’t stop shaking even after the pleasure dissipates. Taylor’s arms come around me, his body presses against mine.

“You’re breaking the rules,” the words shake off my tongue.

“Paid time is up. I was certain a half hour would be sufficient for you to get off, slut.” He strokes my arms and it slows the shudders. Eventually, under his attention, they cease.

“You broke me,” is all I can say.

He kisses my neck and shoulders. “Not yet, sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar and spice. Chloe and Cinnamon. You are both, not always at the same time.”

“Now what?”

He smiles. “Now it’s my turn.”


I can’t use the picture but this is what inspired Cinnamon’s outfit. I’m not great at describing clothing so I hope it came across.


This post is part of Masturbation Monday No. 178 Click the link and allow yourself to be taken to more smutty goodness.

6 Comments

  1. You certainly raised the bar! it was hotter than ever. Lovely underwear too!

  2. This was completely delicious. I know they need to talk but I love it when they do anything but.

    • I love this sentiment, thank you. I think of it every time I attempt to write any semblance of plot. They’d rather avoid the hard questions and remain naked.

  3. I’m rooting for these two but you’ve got me on pins and needles.

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