Free Sexy as Hell Box Set by Harlem Dae

breathed deeply under his hood, his exhalations loud and rasping as he stood in front of me facing the viewing windows. I imagined his face pouring with sweat as it tended to do when he participated in shows wearing the hood. This had been the first time I’d made him come with words—me doing something different—and I’d found it very enjoyable. I thought about whether that was because it had turned me on or that my sole aim had been to torment Victor. I couldn’t deny the latter had been a major turn on, knowing he watched, knowing he’d never seen anything like it in his life before.
    How had he felt seeing a man taking something up his arse? Seeing him come all over the floor with no physical stimulation? I had no idea; he hadn’t given anything away with his facial expressions except that he was in control and what he had seen was your everyday event. I’d have to work harder in the future to elicit a reaction from him, to have him admitting, if only with the lift of an eyebrow or the slight parting of his lips, that he’d been shocked.
    I revelled in the prospect of persuading Victor to admit to his emotions and reactions.
    Shoving at Carlos’ back so he pitched forward in surprise, I snapped, “Get the fuck out of here, slave.”
    Carlos turned around and stumbled towards the door at the rear, hands out, careening blindly. I watched him in my peripheral to make sure he didn’t stagger into a wall and, once he’d left the room, I breathed easier. I was alone, and a surge of pure dominance filled me. This was my show now, and Victor was about to get another hard-on if I had my way.
    I eased my hot-pants over my hips and arse, letting them sail down my legs. Once they reached my ankles, I stepped out with one foot then lifted the other, the shorts dangling off the tip of my boot. I flicked my leg, and the hot-pants streaked through the air, smacking into Victor’s viewing window then hitting the floor.
    He jolted.
    “It’s a shame you can’t sniff them,” I said, holding back a smile and staring right at him. “Smell my cunt juices on the gusset.”
    He flinched, but I’d only just caught sight of it. Oh, he was good, doing so well.
    “Or lick the gusset. Taste me,” I said. “You’d like to taste me, wouldn’t you?”
    Groans from other customers filtered into the room, but I wasn’t interested in those. Tonight their pleasure wasn’t my concern—only Victor’s.
    “Yes, you’d like to taste me. I wonder,” I said, raising my hand to press a finger to my bottom lip, “if I said ‘Lick my cunt’ you’d turn me down now.”
    More groans, but Victor’s lips were firmly sealed and I couldn’t discern whether his moan had been among the others.
    “Would you?” I asked. “Turn me down? Who would deny themselves the chance to sup at my sopping pussy?”
    “Not me, Mistress,” someone whispered, their voice filtering towards me.
    I ignored him. Jabbed my fingers into my cunt and finger-fucked myself. Jerked my hips, widened my legs and exposed my wet flesh. “You hear that? Hear the noise of my juices?” I nodded. “Yes, you can, can’t you? Oh, yes…”
    I closed my eyes, drawing my fingers out and using their tips to frig my clit. With two fingers of my other hand, I spread my lower lips apart, opening myself wide, flaunting my plump and ready pussy. Something he couldn’t have right now. Something I needed him to want with such urgency he’d take me up on the very first offer I’d thrown his way any time I asked.
    Lick my cunt.
    I rubbed on, opening my eyes to stare at him, keeping a smile of satisfaction at bay. I had to stay composed, in role, showing him what he should expect if he deigned to fuck me. And he would, I’d make sure of it.
    As the month wore on I planned to broaden his horizons beyond the pastel pink-and-peach palette it had been before he’d met me, taking him to deep purples, navy blues and the pitch blackness of pure sin. And on the other side of that