It is Friday, and I am playing poker with Raphaël. In Sabine’s office, the air is musty and stifling as the warm weather continues. Lisette knows everything, and this gambit is as much her idea as mine.
Yesterday evening, she deployed the guile of a woman twice her age. In a war of attrition, fucking him with abandon ravaged her body, but Raphaël sits before me as a husk, drained of his vital juices. He is an obsequious nothing, exhausted by a woman with revenge on her mind. Chromed steel holds his personality hostage, and every beat of his heart adds a tick-and-tock to his inevitable anguish.
In a late-night call, relaying all the details, Lisette was not satisfied until she brought me to a guttural climax. She told Raphaël he would wear that cage once and until the weekend.
I know differently.
His head lolls as he gazes out of the window.
“Raphaël? Did you think you would get away with it?”
He rolls it slowly and comes to rest, looking at me. Truculent, his eyes are loaded with contempt.
“Freedom of expression,” he speaks monosyllabically, feigning boredom.
I lean over the table, revealing my deep cleavage. “So, you stand by every word? Yet, you disowned them so easily to Lisette.”
His eyes flicker, ogling my breasts for a split second.
I tut, “I have read it. You did not hold back from my role in your fantasy.”
“And?” He shrugs with perfect timing, “It was just some fun. Lisette and I argued because I sent it to you by mistake. We are back together now. So…,” he rolls the last vowel, “no harm done.”
Standing up, I cross no man's land and walk around the desk. From adult to man-child, I perch on the edge of the table before him, and he meets my severe stare.
He scoffs, “Oh, the heavy treatment. Your tenure expires soon. You need to make associate professor, or you are out.” Raphaël sniggers, shaking his head, “You will not rock the boat.”
I grin back. “Look at you, so confident and certain.”
Pulling it from my jacket pocket, I wave the envelope at him. “I already have that, so I have nothing to lose.”
My lascivious gaze is unmistakable. There is silence and a sudden nervousness in his eyes.
“Raphaël, look. This has gone on long enough.”
I slide forward a little, knowing it will hitch up my short skirt.
“We should not be enemies and fight. I will be an associate professor, and you have another two years of me being here. Must we do this when there are better alternatives?”
I shift my posture and open my legs, exposing some creamy inner thigh and the lace of my stocking tops. Raphaël’s gaze does not waver.
“It is a pity those words were only a game to you.” My sultry eyes sear into his. “I hoped behind your overt interest in me there was some substance to your desires.”
I open my thighs wider, baiting the trap. “Surely, you are a more potent man than your uncle?”
He lingers there, wide-eyed.
“Raphaël, he was such a disappointment.”
Leaning back, I revel in how heat prickles his cheeks. Staring at my smooth cunt, his nervous eyes return to mine.
“Your words aroused me so much.” It is my most coquettish leer, “Come on, show me what I have been missing. Fuck me on this desk with your big. hard. cock.”
He is fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable. I hop down, approach him and lean over; my skirt is a belt around my waist.
Taking his hand, I place it on my inner thigh. “Feel how wet I am. Finger my cunt.”
It is my turn to use words as sensual weapons. Raphaël’s hand is clammy, trembling on my leg as his breathing falters.
“Would you like me to suck your cock first? If I make you cum in my mouth, you will last longer inside me.”
My wandering fingers trace over his torso, “I am such a dirty slut, and I love a hard cock in my ass. I made it nice and slippery for you.”
It is obvious where my hand is going, down his abdomen and edging closer to his groin. “You can cum in there if you want.”
“I… I need to go!” Raphaël splutters.
Standing back, I pull down my skirt and find the perfect wounded expression. “Oh. How embarrassing. You should go.”
Listening to the hurried footsteps fade, I must suppress my laughter.
-=-
Looks cannot kill, much to my disappointment regarding Celine and Eva. However, Madame Bouchet, the lesbian, can set a surprise exam practice. The quiet monotony makes my mind wander.
Lisette runs her fingers through her hair. Fresh-faced and studious, she is sublime art when painted. With my limited range of cosmetics, it required all my concentration. A brush for her full lips, a steady hand for some eyeliner pencil and mascara; her coiffured hair was immaculate. Photogenic, she smouldered for me as a French maid.
Lisette was the perfect fusion of lust and the erotic: her long legs in fishnet holdups, the enticing appeal of her pert behind, through to her pinafore-covered midriff, and the mesh black that sculpted her breasts. In the black and white that clung to her curves, the crotchless panties bunched the bare pillows of her sex.
It defined her sexuality, spread-eagled on my bed. My caress crept over her, along the insides of her thighs, the crease of her forearm and slender bicep, along her sensitive neck. Those were the places I knew, and I found many more. She wriggled, panting and flushed in distress. Over the mesh fabric, my fingers found her nipples, circling them, goading her, and I made them harden. The sense of power was a cruel mistress; I wanted her badly. Plucking one, it lit the fuse. Skirting her sex, she tried to steer herself towards my fleeting touch. Giving up hope, a solitary little finger straggled behind the others, opened her petals and spilt her juices.
If she thought the lipstick vibrator was her salvation, it was her inquisitor. She confessed her lurid fantasies, spitting vowels in return for it buzzing on her swollen clit. She ebbed and flowed like the stormy sea. The leash held taut, her lips pressed tight shut, nostrils flaring, and the rising plea of her high-octave gasps appealed to my better nature.
Lisette’s eyes remained locked on mine, wide open with a raging lust. Fighting for freedom as a cruciform wretch, begging for release, the small of her back arched, tightening her bonds.
The images I captured were not picture-perfect; my mind’s eye is crystal clear. The crisis etched on her delicate features, the black void of her mouth, eyes squeezed tight shut mere seconds from release. The synthetic sound of the shutter clicking away, counting down the detonation. As she strained, broken vowels begged me to let her orgasm.
The sinews in her neck were exposed, her milky-white skin blotchy, and Lisette howled for a big one. She damned the world with its ferocity. Pushed to the extremities of her multi-orgasmic limits, she twitched as if mortally wounded, silent except for the weak rasps for air.
I caught another image of her blood-filled sex in all its primal glory, eager to be filled, begging for attention. Straddling her, I lowered myself onto her face. Lisette curled her neck to meet me, and I pressed her mouth to my drenched sex. The faintest caress on my clit made her pointed tongue lash. The image captured her helpless eyes, and the hillock of my mons cupped by her painted lips. Tied to the bed, she devoured me for an intense orgasm.
Only then did I free her.
She wore that collar with dignity, and I captured her total obedience. What followed was the incendiary that set the world ablaze, her spine curled and bottom raised, those delicate pussy lips dragged back and forth on the lubricated penis. Controlled by my body, the chromed leash taut in my clenched hand, the synthetic shutter clicked away.
“Is this mine now,” I purred, driving it into her.
“Yes,” Lisette murmured, “Oh God…”
“You come to me for your sexual release.”
I teased her ass with my new lipstick vibrator, and she flailed in sharp yelps.
“Oh fuck, fuck! Yes! I am yours.”
Pushing its slender tip inside, I breached it for the first time, and Lisette pulled at the bedsheets. Her knuckles were white as her animated body met my thrusts. She damned my patience as I kept her on the precipice of climax. Harsh confessions spat forth; Raphaël never fucked her like this, begging for more, pleading for her orgasm. Her yelps were so loud they echoed off the walls. Drunk by its power, my disinterested tone amplified her need.
Lisette inspires that torrid heat within me so easily. Holding her pen, she pauses and glances briefly to meet my gaze. We must be cautious; forty pairs of eyes can spy on us. With the faintest curl on her lips, I pray for tomorrow to come. She is calm now, her flawless skin pure. When she came hard, her body streaked by tight muscles and sinews, she crumpled onto my bed, covered in a dew of perspiration. Her pristine cunt quivered, and her virgin ass puckered and released.
Next time, she will experience much more, anal orgasms are incredibly powerful.
It is instinctive, and I turn to face him.
Quickly, Raphaël diverts his eyes. Yes, be afraid. Tortured by his mind’s eye, and I hope the memory of seeing my cunt multiplies the agony. I know Lisette showed him my favourite image of all; her limbs scattered, hair wild, the white bed linen grey between her legs, strung out and fucked to new heights.
I am Lisette’s anonymous lover. I took her to a place he never managed and never will.
-=-
The weekend arrives, and the campus vacates like a colossal bowel movement of little shits. I have another missed call from Pascal. It is a delicate situation that requires tact, and its limited supply is exhausted after a week here. My phone buzzes, and my insides flutter with excitement.