Free Helene Blackmailed by Elliot Mabeuse Page A

wanted desperately to give him what he wanted, what he was so determined to take. She opened her mouth wide and sucked hungrily on his cock, leaning forward until she felt the brush of his hair against her nose and the dull head of his phallus nudging against the back of her throat.
    “Oh, yes!” he groaned in breathless pleasure. “You hot little tease!”
    The breathy excitement in his voice thrilled her. He reached down and took thick handfuls of her rich hair and its silkiness in his fingers was like the slickness of her mouth sliding over his cock. Helene fell into an erotic trance. Her blouse was open and her breasts hung free of the confines of her cut bra. She already felt ravaged by his desire and she put her hands up tentatively and felt the muscles of his thighs, like cords of steel. His whole body was hard for her, muscles rigid with the need for release.
    He began to fuck her, holding her hair in his hands and pumping into her saliva-slick mouth. He thrust so hard that he knocked her off her knees and onto her bottom so that she was forced to sit beneath him, her skirt up around her thighs. From here she could hardly maintain contact and she had to reach up and take him in her hand and pull him down so she could get the head in her mouth. She sat there in the shelter of his powerful legs, head thrown back, nursing at his hard cock, masturbating him into her sucking mouth.
    “Get up,” he said. He reached down and took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet, then pressed her back against the wall. Helene was nearly delirious with need and she forgot all about the injunction of not touching. He’d already debased her, cutting off her clothes and fucking her mouth, treating her like his personal property. What more did she have to lose?
    She grabbed on to him as he leaned against her and dug her nails into his shoulders as his hand went under her skirt. The sexy panties she’d worn just in case she might see him today were now nothing more than an impediment and he shoved them aside, his fingers pushing up brutally inside her. Helene groaned in masochistic pleasure. It was terrible the way he used her, the way he treated her so callously and yet it made her wild for more. She reached down and pulled her skirt up, then spread her thighs and thrust her hips out to give herself more fully to him. His fingers hurt her. They felt wonderful.
    He pulled the torn blouse down over her shoulders, then her bra. She kissed him feverishly and he had to pull back from her as his hands went to the waist of her skirt.
    “Where the fuck is the zipper on this thing?”
    “In the back. In the back,” she gasped.
    “Take it off. Your panties too.”
    He stepped back from her to give her room. Her hands were shaking as she found the clasp at the back of her skirt and opened it, then pulled down the zipper and slid her skirt down her legs. Her slip followed and then her panties. She held on to the doorknob as she stepped out of them, then stood there, uncertain and expectant, dressed only in her shoes.
    Despite her burning need for him she was naked now and very self-conscious. Aside from his jacket, he was still fully dressed and her nakedness seemed just another sign of her shame and subservience to this man. His pants were down around his thighs, his cock gleaming with her own saliva, another sign of her degradation. She stood before him as naked as a slave awaiting his orders, hoping desperately that he liked what he saw.
    For a moment she flashed back to herself at work, the way she’d been before she’d met him. She briefly remembered what it was like to be her normal self, to wield power over others, to have her advice and opinions sought out by her peers. And yet with that memory came a feeling of coldness and distance, of a woman who kept within herself, and that was so very far removed from what she felt now, alive all over, naked and exposed and aching to feel his furious male need unleashed on her