Thread: It was just one... (Bevatoria and skittish_butterfly)

Elizabeth's face was scrunched up, miserable with need and perspiration and desperation. Somehow, Grant's voice cut through the fog and she heard his and you do. And she did? It took a moment, but she connected it to her bitter accusation that his casual comment in the office about permission was a lie. And even those three vague little words, and you do zapped her up and down her spine, making her grimace with a need and a pleasure she couldn't bear but couldn't shake or release. She was so close, so close and she just wanted it to be over, to go back to being Elizabeth again. She was silent, listening to him over the sloppy wet sound of her fingers moving in her damp panties. Grant's promise to help if she listened had her ears alert for his words, as if she somehow really believed anything he said could make a difference in her state, but she was so miserable and had no other idea how to get herself out of this she just couldn't help it. His voice was so quiet and her harsh, labored breathing was almost louder, but she made out his words, his promise. What was she wearing. The bits and pieces of Elizabeth's brain that were still working even close to normally fought a war with the rest of her, that vast majority of her mind and body that needed release, that couldn't stand this anymore, that would do anything if he could just help her end this. But to tell him what she was wearing? If he was there, he would have been slapped. There was the flare of heat as her revulsion at his crudeness washed through her, but in the end even that just warmed her further, making her circling stroking fingers work even harder. But there was no way, no way she could ever look him in the eyes if he thought, had any inkling she was lying on the floor in just her panties like this.... Her voice was a hoarse whisper that she could barely get out she was shaking so badly. I... I'm w-wearing the jeans a-a-and the t-tshirt... the ones f-from y-your office. He didn't deserve the truth. This was all his fault, and he was disgusting for even asking, like this was some sort of crude, cliched... phone... sex. And her fingers were even more of a blur at the thought as her head tilted back, eyes glazed. Then Grant told her to take them off. He couldn't possibly think, no, why would he even think she would? You... Her teeth chattered too hard at the thought of stripping down to nothing as he asked, maybe getting what her body needed, unable to call him a vile pig as he deserved. I c-c-an't... can't do that... won't do that... can't, won't, can't... I can't s-stand it, please! The shame burned hot and unseen on her face as she rolled around briefly on the floor, tugging her wet panties off her sweat damp legs. The panties ended up in a moist little heap near her head where she couldn't avoid their strong scent, but was too busy with both hands now to bother moving them further away. Elizabeth had somehow turned herself to the point she was lying parallel to the base of the wall on her back, one shoulder slightly elevated and pressed against the wall, her legs open wide with one knee against the wall and the other knocking into her bed side again and again as she stroked herself furiously. She'd done it, what he said, and still she was trapped like this. After a good half minute, she remembered he wasn't actually there, just listening, didn't know she'd done what he asked. Somehow, actually telling him was maybe even more embarrassing than if he was just watching her somehow. She took a ragged breath and reluctantly admitted it to him, I d-did it, w-what you asked. To come out and say she was naked to him was more than she could bear, the whole conversation a surreal nightmare she knew would haunt her every time she ever had to see his ugly face again. She turned her head and looked at his picture on the contact screen of her phone lying nearby, seeing the cookie he'd given her lying right next to it. Ugly face, yes. She shivered and closed her eyes and her legs spread even wider, her hips bumping and grinding, thumping against the floor board. When she thought she couldn't be any more humiliated, Grant seemed to find new ways to prove her wrong. Ask me again for what you want. She heard him but couldn't speak. Elizabeth had never wanted anything more in her life, crazy as it was. How was this possible? Was this some sudden onset hormonal issue? Some psychologically delayed trauma triggered by Grant's lewd rudeness? She couldn't figure it out, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was what she needed, trembling and struggling with herself, stroking her soft folds again and again and just not able to get it herself. And she couldn't be Elizabeth again, not like this, not until Grant helped her. Somehow she knew it, felt it in her bones, in her wet inner places, all through her. She was like iron filings, Grant the magnet. She hated the magnet, but was running out of strength and pride to bother fighting it. This is your f-f-ault! Her head went back as the anger burned hot through her, only making it worse, every emotion, thought and sensation just piling more wood on her fire. You know I need help, please! All she heard over her own body's lewd sounds was silence from him. Nothing. G-g-grant, p-p-please, rel-l-lease m-me f-from this hell, it's your fault. Silence. I want... She couldn't. You know what I want. Did he? Please! Still more silence. She had to. Couldn't stop herself. Damn you, Grant, I need you to let me cum! His two little words set her off like a firecracker. Cum, Elizabeth. Her whole body tensed up, and her head exploded in a supernova of pleasure and release, more need than she knew her little body could hold suddenly flowing wetly through her, fingers coaxing it out as her body just helpless obeyed his simple command. Oh god oh god oh god oh grant! oh!! ohhhhhhhhhh! She screamed and thrashed as everything in her focused on his words, and her need, and everything went away, nothing mattered but feeling and sensation and his permission and release. Elizabeth was gone a long time, her mind empty, her body wrung out by all the cries and moans and screams she'd made, and now her ragged breathly, slowly returning to normal, if she could even remember what normal was. Her eyes started to focus, first on the phone and Grant's picture still displayed -- the phone was still picking up everything, all her noises, and even her deep, relieved breathing now -- and then, behind it, the cookie. Her fingers were still between her legs, unbelievably wet, but she reached out, not to flip off the phone, but for the cookie.