The Arrangement (Translucentfeathers & Father Figure)

[translucentfeathers]

An escape, that was what a place like this offered, a venue like this provided. It was a safe haven for the misfits who were secretly slaves to their own dark passions and hidden desires, wants that were otherwise deemed deviant and peculiar by the broader populace. This was no house of horrors as the general public might color it, rather a place of release for those who were searching so desperately for it. It was how Claire had come to find herself there, slipping through the crowd with a drink from the bar in hand.

The venue had been nothing like what she had expected, the cliche and tired, though classic, use of plush fabrics mixed with a color palette of blood red and black were no where to be found. Rather this venue seemed to pride itself on the modern decor, stone tile flooring, polished metal catching every flicker of the sweeping deep blue and vibrant green lighting. The bar was at the far corner to the right with a large dance floor at the center to provide people with an area to mingle and become better acquainted while allowing some tame voyeurism to set the mood. There were several booths offering seating along the far wall, as well as space of seclusion with some having black privacy curtains that could be pulled shut to cut the outside world off. Of course, the long hall in the back offered a larger array of settings for people to choose from, multiple rooms all furnished to one extent or the other, some simply devoted for audience and multiple parties to enjoy the company of many participants while others allowed complete seclusion with one's partner and the equipment and furnishings to allow completely private scenes.

Claire distanced herself from the dance floor, leaning quietly against a pillar that was partially shadowed as she merely observed. It was her first night, one that she had been anticipating and planning carefully for. A pale, delicate hand rose to smooth a few rust colored tresses from her face, eyes catching sight of the little plastic band that had been wrapped around her wrist when she first arrived. The pale blue coloring marked her as a submissive a label she chose from the handful of interactions she had thus far. Dark red of course indicated a dominant while vibrant purples suggested the bearer as a switch. It helped to decrease confusion and was meant as an invitation to others of what your preferences were, a way to break the ice in at least that respect right off the bat. Claire let her hand fall back to her side as she raised the cool glass to her lips again, sipping her ice water quietly, wondering back on how she had come to find herself here.

Years of sexual frustration, needs that had gone unmet, had led up to the moment where she walked through that front entrance. For the longest time Claire had felt wrong, off, her entire life just a series of scrambling desperately for more than she felt she could hope to gain, only ever merely scratching the surface of what she felt she needed. She had grown up under suffocating guidance in an unforgiving environment, one filled with expectations, limitations and demands that all tried to twist and conform her into a neat and tidy box to be categorized away as perfectly normal. Since she was young she always bucked the stipulations placed on her life, shoving at the attempts when others attempted to force her into what they deemed was best. Of course, she was risking everything coming here tonight.

Claire let out a low sigh as she continued to sip her drink, pushing aside the small vein of fear she had of being caught, of getting found out, knowing in some twisted sense it only added to the excitement. That the fear heightened the bit of rush she got just by being here. The energy of this place was infectious and while she was content to stay where she was and continue to feel the place out, she couldn't help but get a little caught up in the vibe of passion and want that seemed to envelope the entire large space.

The music was heavy enough that it made her chest almost vibrate with the bass tones, stealing her breath whenever the beat would drop and allow the dancing to pick up a faster pace. Claire was tempted for a moment to go against her reservations and join the people on the dance floor before she shook her head as she turned and slipped back to the bar for another drink. While a relief to have finally worked up the courage to come here she felt aggravated that she had come all this way to merely be a spectator. Not that there hadn't been a few offers from several other patrons, a couple of men, one switch and one dominant, another set was a couple looking for a third party. None had peaked her interest though and she turned them each down simply not...feeling anything at their attempted advances, their soft approaches. Though it was hardly surprising she found herself so untouched by those around her. It often felt as though Claire had built up a wall around herself to keep from slipping while simultaneously keeping herself in check. Claire wasn't sure where to begin or even how to crack through that wall. She felt at a loss as to how she could discard the carefully constructed mask of her own design that had become fixated to her own face.

Hopping up onto a barstool, Claire caught the attention of the bartender to get a refill as she crossed her legs at the ankles, and took a moment to look down and over herself. The black, form-fitting dress she wore was made of soft material, stretching over every curve of her body; long sleeves slipped all the way down to her wrists and threatened to over take her palms if given the opportunity. And though the neckline was relatively high, it dipped in the back offering a flash of smooth pale skin though it was slightly hidden, teasing flashes peeking out from underneath the wild mess of waves and untameable curls her red hair became at the end of each day. The dress was by no means anything overly revealing, the skirt line resting at her mid thigh while her feet were clad with a pair of black heels that added a few inches to her slight five foot four frame. There were several piercings that graced her ears, including crossing industrial bars that her hair normally hid, along with a piercing at her navel while a tattoo of scroll line work decorated the pale akin of one of her hip bones. Such attire, the form-fitting clothing, ink and jewelry weren't permitted at the University she attended and it felt like a relief to finally be able to go out without restrictions. Her green eyes returned to their previous activity of flitting over the crowd as she traced a long finger around the rim of her glass, the other hand tangling up in her hair as a nervous habit, pushing it back and out of the way while she simply watched.

 

[Father Figure]

There were so many different people in this world, so many variables that could create a human being and the psyche behind them. Some people turned out to be amazingly whole, good and kind, or just genial and easy going. Some turned out to be conflicted, lost, uncertain of their places in life, and trying desperately to find what they never could inside of themselves. The others...were cruel, aggressive beasts, shallow and selfish, the epitome of everything that was frightening in today's world. The club had all of them in it, grinding away on the dance floor or in the varied side rooms that it provided, and every single one of them was radiating that one emotion that seemed so very common to humanity. The need to be wanted. Wanted by someone, wanted by something, to find and have that special moment...the one that made the thrill, the one that made them feel alive. It seemed to turn the place into one pulsing beating heart, pounding it's way into the very bones of those that were searching that evening.

And then there was him.

When had he realized his difference, the sheer terrible power of his personality and what he was capable of doing to other human beings. When had he recognized the horror of what he was and then merely smiled and set it aside? How did you explain staring in a mirror for hours to try to make the proper face when greeting another human being, or speaking quietly to yourself at night so you could grasp the simplest of conversation topics. He just did not react the way others did, he never could. He was practically part and parcel an alien being. He had heard of many people claim such antisocial behavior fell on the autistic spectrum, but no...he grasped other people quite well, he just didn't care about them overly much. Perhaps that made him a sociopath, it was not something he cared overly to indulge in thinking about. After all, what use was there in knowing you were a sociopath? It truly served very little purpose in life and just muddied the waters of whatever you might be busy doing.

Yet he had his desires didn't he. They might not be quite as intense as the other human beings there, but they existed. Matthew was the kind of man who brought attention from all the women who had unwed daughters. Mid-thirties, in good health, and with passingly good looks...he was not an athlete, not some sculpted god, not some genius conversationalist to woo a woman into falling to her knees. Yet his intensity seemed to radiate out of him, and that intensity had gained him a foothold in this world that very few ever could gain. It allowed him to attain the promotions that he wanted, to live the single life that he craved, to make the deals that nobody else could. Did he want to get that car with zero down and low financing? Did he arrange to have that corner apartment in the inner city because he had pushed the manager around until he'd given way to his requests? Did he expect that submissive to walk out with him that evening?

The answers were yes to all of them.

So there he stood in casual business attire, a dressed down kind of man who was not particularly seeking to impress by the nature of his clothing. It was his eyes that would have attention, those eyes and the smirk that accompanied them, as if the world was his oyster. A little over six feet in height, broad shouldered, and dark haired...he was the quintessential predator walking in a world full of sheep, trying to determine which prey animal he was going to take down this evening. His eyes scanned slowly, looking over the crowd, and then he saw her...he saw her and he smiled inside at how people seemed to pull away from the cold shoulder she was portraying. Perfect...she is perfect, he thought, and his body eased itself through the crowd towards her and as he approached she could see the glint of the red band on his wrist. There was a directness to him, completely disregarding her wish to brush him off as he spoke and offered his hand."

"Matthew," he said, those eyes glinting just slightly. "And you are?"

 

[translucentfeathers]

The question of her name had thrown Claire off guard for a moment, despite having noticed the tall man make his way through the crowd to where she sat perched at the bar she had not expected for him to attempt to make contact. Claire glanced over him, regarding Matthew curiously though she remained guarded, eyes tracing over his frame while noting the bit of red banded around his wrist, the calm and self assured way he conducted himself, the broad shoulders and tall stature that made for an intimidating figure when paired with those sharp eyes that currently were focused in on her.

Those eyes unsettled her in a way, left her feeling slightly trapped and vulnerable beneath them and for a moment, just a moment she felt that thrill of excitement that raced through her at the mere idea of coming here rush through her again as she met this man's gaze. It was as if there was a level of danger to them, something that walked the razors that she wondered if there was truly any coming back from. Though her mask may have fallen in that brief moment of surprise at his blunt entrance and introduction, Claire quickly resecured it into place as an expression of indifference retook her and her cool demeanor returned.

Claire arched a delicate brow, eyes falling to the hand he had extended to her. Rather than reaching out to clasp it in her own Claire merely inclined her head slightly and tilted her glass in his direction from where it rested in her hand on the bar. Even as she did this though she shifted quietly on her barstool, her ankles unhooking as her legs instead crossed one another to reposition herself to better face the crowd.

"Claire."

 

[Father Figure]

Oh she wanted to act coy, did she now? Such a thing might have worked with some brash young stud out to get his jollies, but it hardly would have an impact on the man who was standing in front of her. To him it was all a rudimentary give and take, the kind of behavior expected of people who were not willing to be honest with themselves. That was what really made that smirk slip out, the look in his eyes finding a great joke in the subject matter at hand. Why did people have to do such a thing? Was there some playful enjoyment in being chased that he just did not understand? Oh, he grasped the fact that it would always make a woman feel wanted to have a man traipsing after them like some wine besotted buffoon, but were they really here for that kind of act? No, in fact it was that kind of foolery which is what had so many men left high and dry by a woman who would not provide them the basic level of respect. He had interest, she should return it properly.

He found it humorous.

The smirk that came to his face might have been insulting, if he had left it at nothing but a smirk. Yet he followed it up with his own nod in return, as if they were fencers about to begin to spar and he moved to seat himself near her. He did not ask if the seat was taken, he knew it was not, and she could hem and haw all she wanted...he was uncaring on the subject matter. He made no bones about his interest in her, especially after having seen that beautiful face of hers when her façade had slipped away just slightly and he had seen that trembling little creature hidden beneath. Like a colt on uncertain legs who seemed ready to bolt if given the proper incentive. Well, he was always one for incentive now wasn't he.

He glanced towards the bartender and ordered his own drink, paying no mind to her for a moment as he received it. Let her sit in silence if she was not willing to engage with him, he had her name and he savored it...savored that moment. Knowledge was always something wonderful to him, it was just as intoxicating as the drugs people enjoyed using, and he had read the truth in her voice when she spoke it. So many who came to the club gave a false name, gave one that nobody could ever trace down, but he had her true name...and he turned towards her after getting his drink to idly murmur.

"Claire, tell me, did you decide to wear panties tonight or not? It's always a question that people seem to overlook, but I think it means so much don't you? A woman who comes ready and willing is one hoping for more than just...voyeurism." The words were so straight forward, so blunt as they should have been crass, and yet those inquisitive eyes made the question a definite direct one...he was truly interested in the answer.

 

[translucentfeathers]

Claire noticed out of the corner of her eye the smirk that had appeared on Matthew's handsome face as he simply mirrored the nod she had offered him, a slight moment of relief gracing her when she thought he had been turned off by her aloof nature as all the others had been so easily dissuaded. It was short lived though when he took a place at the stool next to her and ordered a drink from the bartender, and Claire struggled to keep her brow from furrowing in confusion at the slight flush of excitement she felt race through her that he had not been so easily deterred. It was merely a betrayal of her lust, she thought idly, continuing to keep her gaze focused on the dancing of the crowd and the movement of the people as they worked their way through the club and between different parties engaging in a variety of behavior from mere discussion to things of a more explicit nature.

Claire shifted slightly, as she merely wrote off that brief, exhilarating moment as merely a manifestation of her shallow attraction to Matthew. He was pleasing to the eye, at least on the surface, though a small part of her knew her interest ran deeper than his mere looks, the way he carried himself with confidence and self assurance even more appealing when paired with the intensity that she had met in his eyes.

Claire heard the man now next to her receive his drink and was about to excuse herself to resume her previous post on the edge of the dance floor by the large pillar when suddenly he was speaking to her. His voice was barely audible and it caused her to strain to hear him, a hand reaching up to curl some of her loose, rust colored tresses behind her ear, revealing the two industrial piercings she had criss-crossing through the tip of her ear, where studs a few small studs and small hoops continued to traveled down to end at her delicate lobe. The metal flashed and caught the light of the club as a sudden blush flared over her cheeks when she heard what he said. The question paired with his inquisitive gaze had her faltering, feeling a bit thrown by him for the second time that evening as she stared with slightly widened eyes.

The normal response she was certain would be to strike him and then storm off but...Claire remained though, her crossed legs tightening slightly where she sat as she tried to ignore the return of that flare of excitement, her bare pale skin feeling the pull of her dress around her the curve of hips even more now that he had brought it to light as she tried to return her focus to her drink, lifting a single shoulder in a soft shrug as she took a sip and looked anywhere but at those sharp eyes thst seemed to so easily be stripping Claire of her defenses. "I decided to not, why?"

 

[Father Figure]

God did he love the moments like this.

He could see her moving about, squirming, and after that beautiful piece of information she had shared he could only envision what it must look like beneath that clothing. The bare flesh pressing down, grinding, the muscles tightening as her legs flexed the tiniest of bits in response to the natural desire she was feeling for him. Because it was natural, no matter what the current culture was trying to tell a woman, for them to appreciate a man who was straight forward, dominant, and utterly capable of having their way with a woman. His eyes slowly slid down her body, not making any kind of attempt to his obvious interest in her and he could tell he was smiling, no...smirking. He smirked at his imagination feeding him all sorts of delicious thoughts about that lovely flesh. Did she shave fully or just clean herself up a little? Was she wet and slick, wondering how far she would go this evening? Tantalizing, delicious, wicked deviant thoughts burning inside of his mind. He dreamed for a moment he could smell the scent of her arousal on the air, the hint of it making his mind cloudy, but he knew that was merely a silly dream...at least for the moment.

She had asked a question and it was only reasonable to provide her the answer, now wasn't it? That voice was smooth and matter of fact as he replied. "It means that you aren't here to just be a spectator, it means that you're interested in being a participant. The only real question is who you're going to participate with." Most men would have perhaps asked at that point, most men would have shown a bit of caution and concern, but really was she there for a man who was so overly concerned about what was occurring that he had to question his every motion and act? No, that was not the kind of person she was there to meet. So many of the men in the room had a little wrist band claiming that they were a dominant male, but he should have had a different one. He was the wolf in sheep's clothing, the one who would have his way...and he would fucking make her like it.

His hand came out to touch her knee, turning slightly as well to look towards that dance floor. A dance floor full of debauchery at it's finest. Nubile flesh and devilish hands finding their way into all sorts of predicaments before their very eyes. There was something absolutely outrageous about seeing men and women engaged in this kind of behavior, baring their flesh to the world, tits and ass exposed for all to partake in. Sometimes it became a bit overwhelming really, the boundaries that most had being broken without even an uttered cry of denial, but for him it was as if he found comfort in the one place that accepted that kind of behavior. Across from them, deeper in the floor, people gathered round to watch the hard fucking of the one of submissive women that had decided to attend that evening. As her whimpered moans began to fill the air this man leaned in...not even caring about what was occurring, but definitely drawing Claire's attention to it.

For a brief moment he practically nuzzled her as he did so, his nose flaring slightly as he took in the smell of her beautiful hair. She had exposed her flesh and he took advantage of it, his tongue coming out to catch one of those piercings, tracing the metal before caressing over her ear. That hand on her knee creeping even further up. He was not hesitant about it, the hand on her flesh was a steady one and more than that was strong...viciously so. Those fingers digging into her skin without remorse. His voice whispered low, quiet and teasing. "Would you like to be her you think? On display for everyone to admire? Is that the kind of woman you are, wanting them all to see and show their jealousy as they dream of being you? Or are you the quiet one, desperately hoping nobody notices you opening your legs...that nobody sees the sheen of wetness on your beautiful, tight, perfect little cunt?"

 

[translucentfeathers]

Claire simply watched the crowd without really seeing them, attempting to keep her eyes focused on anything other than the man next to her, her gaze getting lost in the crowd. Despite all her attempts to to mentally distance herself drom him though, she could not ignore his words, the answer to the question that she herself asked. The response washed over her like a wave that could cause you to slip and fall, to sink beneath the surface after it knocked the breath from you so you were left feeling exposed and unable to catch your breath it stole from you. Claire simply lifted her glass and took a sip, though there was a brush of a hand gracing over her her bare knee that forced her away from her idle staring she had become lost in, the contact of his fingertips on her skin so unexpectedly sent slight shocks of what felt like electricity through her.

Claire looked at the hand over her knee before she glanced up with an arched brow though she wasn't met by his intense gaze as she had feared, rather he had turned his focus out onto the dance floor and she followed his eyes to the submissive who was currently strapped down with her upper body suspended as she was fucked brutally before a crowd of pleased onlookers. Claire tried not to focus solely on the actual interactions that began to occur as the night progressed, finding it too easy to get a little lost in the show. The blatant display though had her slender fingers tightening their grasp around the glass she held, her legs despite the hand at her knee shifting as she struggled to try and tear her eyes away from the scene even as she heard the woman’s cries and noises of pleasure begin to rise above the crowd and reach her ears.

It was at that moment that Matthew had leaned in towards her and Claire held her breath as she felt him slide his nose along the curl of her hair before his tongue traced along the piercings of her ear. It had her subconsciously tilting her head slightly as if to offer him more of herself. Claire's breath caught in her throat when the hand at her knee smoothed up over her pale thigh, fingers digging in and leaving a blooming ache in their wake as she felt her skin flush under the secular focus he offered her. She finally had to tear her eyes away from the scene on the dance floor, repressing a shiver that raced along the bared curve of her spine as she felt his warm breath cascade over her delicate ear. The question he asked, the ideas he was instilling into her mind left her feeling slightly caught. Her eyes flicked back to the brazen display of the submissive being so thoroughly fucked for all to see and while she felt no hesitation or inclination either way about watching or not watching, the idea of being so blatantly taken, of being put on display for all to see had her squirming back a bit. The idea of all that focus being centered on you wasn't thrilling and it had her tensing at the concept of being so blatantly seen doing things she was only beginning to dip her toes into. The concept of being in public, of possibly getting caught or having others overhear without being able to reach or touch you. The idea of the only and sole focus on you being that of the dominant currently working you over and taking from you want he wanted...of being able to give him what he desired? That had her heart racing in ways she couldn't explain.

At his teasingly asking if she was a quiet one had the blush on her cheeks furthering to stain her neck as she felt her legs begin to go lax under the strength of his touch if only for a moment. Her free hand not clinging to her drink came down to circle the wrist of his own as his fingers slipped up further, though she wasn't pushing him away despite how her sensibilities screamed at her to do so, instead? She felt herself merely hold on tightly, short nails biting gently into the skin of his forearm. Claire's lips parted as she sucked in a quick breath to try and steady herself even as he continued to speak, the bold question at the end leaving her uncertain how to answer. She had to look away from the couple on the dancefloor, finding herself slightly overwhelmed as her eyes darted almost subconsciously to the booths along the wall that were curtained off though you could clearly hear the moans of pleasure within.

She wracked her mind for anything to say, some sarcastic remark or idle brush off as Claire had used all night with success on others. Something to throw Matthew off his game though he didn't strike her as the type to be so easily diverted once something had caught his attentions. Her words never came, though, feeling as though her voice was caught in her throat, her mind left reeling, though Claire pulled back from his mouth enough for her eyes to rise and meet his.

"Are you implying I participate with you, then?" She asked when she finally found the ability to speak, though the words didn't come out as strong as she intended, instead falling into a more breathless category as she worried the soft swell of her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

[Father Figure]

There was power in moments like this.

He felt it between them, that dynamic that hinted that there was so much more to the world than the mere flesh that was touching. The energy seeming to be palpable, given life in the space between them. It could be felt in the air, enabling these two incredibly different people to slowly begin to ignore that myriad sensations around them in order to concentrate in utter fascination on their small little section of it. Gone was the whimpers of the well used woman, gone were the prying eyes and the desperate glances, and gone were the trappings of society. It was as if they were alone now, the sounds washing out and turning reality surreal, the only thing seeming to have even a semblance of truth was that touch and the anticipation of the question that had been asked. His smooth voice replied softly into her ear. "You already have decided, you just haven't said yes yet. I don't have to ask, now do I?" The question was completely rhetorical. He was not in any way seeking an actual answer from her, because the truth was he already had it.

Consent was always the question between people such as them, but he was hardly the norm of the male species. He did not have to ask, he did not want to ask, and he would not be asking her. No, instead that hand continued upwards as those thighs parted, opening as if he had been Moses given life and he cupped her. Cool fingers from the feel of his drink sliding along the slick hot flesh of her beautiful flesh, the eyes never leaving hers. The way he moved was supremely confident, as if he knew exactly how to treat a woman's body, and he parted her folds with an ease that was nearly criminal, his fingers running upwards to begin rolling that hard clit with tips already wet with her nectar. He exhaled slowly at the feel of her, shivering the tiniest of bits as he took her in such a blatant fashion. This was where he would find her answer, this was where he would find his consent.

He sat his drink to the side with his other hand, coming closer to the neck that she offered and he kissed her throat slowly...his tongue coming out to trace as his fingers continued to work her willing form...well, willing in that he was not exactly stopping, and while "legally" there was a bit of a gray area here...in truth this is what he got off on. He loved it, his cock already aching and hard in his pants, but unlike most men he didn't feel a need to whip it out and offer it up for approval. No, this was about her, this was all about her. He wanted to play her like an instrument, show her that there was a man who could turn her moans into music and making her orgasms into a fucking operatic piece. He smirked just slightly at himself at the analogy in his mind, his teeth grazing just the tiniest of bits, before speaking again.

"Tell me, now that we've found out how badly you want to...participate, do let me know...how far do you want to go tonight, hmm? What is it you need...?" His voice trailed off as he brushed his lips across her cheek to turn his head to gaze into her eyes, his features dark and brooding. He did not want his answer because he needed it, he wanted the answer merely because it thrilled him to know it.

 

[translucentfeathers]

There were softly spoken words caressing her ear, his warm breath brushing over the sensitive skin as she swallowed deftly before pulling in a shaky breath at his response. The entire world around them, the club and all of its noise simply seemed to fade out from around them, disappearing almost entirely into the background as her reality was slowly beginning to be pieced together by the dominant at her side. She knew from the question that it wasn't meant to be answered and her teeth sank into the soft swell of her bottom lip as Claire attempted to retain a fraction of her resolve though it felt like she was grasping at sand, the more she struggled to tighten her grip the quicker the grains slipped free from her fingers.

Claire wondered briefly why it was she was even fighting to hold on, what it was she was so deftly trying to protect. Why she was bothering to fight herself as the pieces of the mask she wore and despised were slowly cracking apart and getting pulled away by the man before her. His hand had slipped further up between her thighs even as her legs had begun to ease apart where they had been so tightly crossed together beneath his touch. Claire felt the sharp contrast of his cool fingers slip underneath the short skirt of her dress before they had deftly slid over the warm tight warm folds of her slick sex. A soft noise managed to escape her lips, her fingers tightening their grip at his wrist even as she felt him part her with practised ease before she felt his now wet fingers roll over the sensitive bundle of nerves that made up her clit.

The sudden sound of his drink being abandoned on the bar had her wanting to turn but Matthew was leaning in then, his hand sliding closer to her neck while she felt his lips on her throat. The sweeping motions of his tongue, the slide of his lips, the grazing of sharp teeth all had her breath coming in a sharp gasp as she felt herself shut her eyes against the flashing lights of the club to better focus on his ministrations. The continued motions of his fingers had begun to cause her hips to shift slightly to grant him better access as she tilted her head back a bit further to accommodate his mouth as it roved all had her feeling a little lost while a warm heat began pulsing through her veins.

Claire felt him withdraw his lips and it caused her brow to furrow slightly in confusion before he began speaking as she opened her eyes to find his own gaze searching hers with a darkened expression that only served to amplify the intensity of his eyes. The question had her uncertain and she felt the way his lips brushed over her cheek delicately in a way that had her settling a bit under the almost gentle gesture. "I..." her voice felt frail and different from the strength and certainty it normally carried. "I want more. More of this, of what you are offering," she said as she struggled to find the line she should draw for the evening but feeling entirely uncertain as to what it should be. Her mind was racing and battling herself, logic and rational thinking trying to outweigh her wants and desires.

"I just need to not be able to think for a while," Claire said then, having become certain. "Please."

 

[Father Figure]

He almost wanted to mock her words, that was the sickness inside of him speaking, the voice that sometimes squirmed it's way up out of the back of this man's mind. He wanted to tease her in a taunting voice, cruelly whispering back to her...I just need to not be able to think for a while....Please. He refrained though, it hardly served this particular moment between the two of them for him to begin such behavior, teasing her with her own words. Yet he also knew he hardly needed her permission to continue, not one instant did the thought of ending what he was doing ever enter his mind. No, instead he knew that slick desire governed the fact that he wanted to ramp up the moment, wanted to show her off to the world, wanted her to never forget this evening beneath his hands. The fingers working her beautiful flesh forced her open wider, the hand keeping her most vulnerable parts from the viewing public as the fingers on that hard nub slid down and he speared her swiftly. Two thick digits burying themselves to the bottom knuckle inside of her wet quivering little hole and he sighed in complete and absolute exultation at the victory.

God he was so fucking hard right now.

Slowly he exhaled across her skin, shivering with his own terrible desires, wanting to toss away all caution. In a place such as this it was not unreasonable to be incredibly public with an act, but even he wasn't quite sure if she would respond positively or not to him pushing for something more obscene. He was more than willing to follow her wishes and giving her time to think was not on his docket and as she moved, as she squirmed and offered up more of her beautiful flesh, he decided that partaking was the only sane act...you did not turn down a buffet, no matter who you were. His fingers rocked her, his free arm pulling her close, and there was only one thing left to do...he kissed her. His hand entwined in her hair, his body shivering as he forced her head up so he could make her look at him, and he lowered those full lips down upon her own. It was a quick kiss, hard and cruel, the kind of kiss that was not done to show any measure of gentleness but instead done to show a complete and absolute measure of ownership over the other. Territorial, claiming her with the sweep of his tongue over her beautiful lips.

All the while though his hand crept from her hair to caress over the skin of one shoulder, idly tracing the pale skin of her beautiful form before sliding down to cup one breast with those strong fingers. Just like the kiss it lacked any kind of compassion, instead relying on the sheer level of want he had for her. His mouth nudged hers open as he explored, his fingers moving to tug her nipple through the fabric of her dress, his digits tugging the hardened flesh up to be admired by any who could see the act of it and he slowly whispered against her lips. "Shhh...there's no need to every worry, you're safe...go on, just spread wide for them all, show that body off..." He knew what he truly wanted, what he hungered for, and he smiled wickedly as he nipped her lower lip and whispered...

"How far do you want to go..."