Thread: A Devil's Game ::: {Ariamella & Prince of Smut}

RE A Devil's Game Ariamella Prince Being naked in a place other than her home was such an uncomfortable feeling. Macy felt too exposed, too bare, and the cool air of the office raised gooseflesh on her crossed thighs. Damien's circling and inspection did nothing to help the nervousness that overwhelmed her entire being, and she felt as if she were a blushing teenager again, waiting for the verdict on her FBF score-- face, body and fuckability. He gave the impression of some sort of animal on the prowl, like a lion who had stopped the hunt to humiliate his gazelle before he devoured her. At least she had a decent body she could show off, and she was proud of it too. The muscles from her track and cross country days hadn't deserted her, and healthy enough had kept her figure slim. Well, her ass had gone a little soft, but she had gotten enough compliments on it to not have to worry about how it looked to the members of the opposite gender. She shouldn't have been surprised when Damien ripped that bodily confidence right under her feet-- he was an asshole after all-- but she couldn't help but feel dejected at his appraisal of her body. Not bad? It was a lot better than those flat chested, flat assed women who frequented the floors of Brandon-Demmings, and it was certainly better than the boney models that came to Couture for their photoshoots! Stefan, the style director, often said that size 0 was the new 2, 2 the new 4, and anything above was considered fat, but Macy wondered if her size 4 frame was a 14 in Damien's eyes. The very thought made her wound of dejection a little bit deeper, offense and frustration threatening to make her say something she would probably regret later on. But she bit her tongue, hugged her arms tighter to her body and stiffened her jaw at his words, becoming visibly upset when he called her a decent fuck. He was starting to treat her like an object rather than a person, and she idly wondered whether George had been romantic with all his partners. Although, I do find this ass quite tempting despite being a little soft I love having something to pound against. There was another one of Damien's backhanded compliments, and Macy's heated anger spiked up again. She refused to believe she was fat, no matter what scale Stefan or Damien used, and she sure as hell wasn't going to change herself for him . But the girl had to ignore the impulse of wanting to look over her shoulder to her round ass, wanting to inspect for herself if it had really gotten that soft over the years. There was also the matter of his lewd suggestion and no matter how hard she tried to subdue it, a different kind of heat hit her body, flashing suddenly in her stomach and spreading deliciously lower to the apex of her thighs, sending her imagination into overdrive. She could almost picture Damien and his slight German accent whispering sweet nothings into her ear while he used that muscular body to pull her tightly against him as he slid in her from behind and-- Smack! A yelp escaped Macy's throat, the stinging on her left ass cheek pulling her out of the sinful fantasy. Although her eyes blazed at the CEO for doing that, she was also a bit thankful for it. Who knows what she would have been thinking about if that slap hadn't jolted her out of the dangers of her own mind? And thankfully he was dimming the windows it meant he had some decency in him, and more importantly it meant she wasn't going to be 'Macy Hill, the office exhibitionist.' Thank God-- she started to say, cut off only when Damien stepped closer to her, shrinking her frame with his much larger body. She could really look at him now, taking in his perfectly styled, tousled dark hair and the even darker eyes that lay below, gazing intensely into her own wide, hazel eyes with something of a black-violet fire that seemed to burn right through her. For the first time, she noticed the carefully groomed stubble and lips that had just the right amount of masculine fullness to be completely kissable. It would be a lie to say he wasn't attractive, and an even bigger lie to say he wasn't the type of man that she had always wanted, but under these circumstances it felt dirty, sinful and even wrong to look at him and think such things. Not just because he was her CEO but because he had confessed to being a demon who wanted to use her as his 'little fuck toy.' What kind of respectable woman was okay with that? What kind of respectable woman wanted that? But the real question was, why did she get strangely turned on from hearing him say that? In classic Macy fashion, she was going to fire off another whiny, sarcastic remark about it being a free country and that she could talk as much as she wanted to, but he caught her open mouth abruptly and stuffed her own panties inside. She made sounds of protest but his grip was strong and the tie was tight around her mouth, rendering any sort of speech completely impossible. Like all other intellectually arrogant people, words were her way of defending herself, explaining her views and convicting others of their wrongdoing, but without that luxury she felt more naked and stripped than just revealing her most intimate parts to the man before her. It meant he had full control over her, and she glared at him to convey the hatred bubbling within. She hated, hated, hated him! She hated this ridiculous deal, hated the fact that it had to be done this way, and hated that fact that her breath caught and quickened at the feel of his large hand on her neck. But she had gotten herself stuck in this mess, and she would get herself out at any cost. The vibe was so different from the horny frat boys from university, and all she could do was helplessly stand silent as his hand drifted down her stomach and in between her thighs, where she clenched her legs tighter as one final act of defiance before he roughly pushed them apart in preparation for his exploration with his hand. She couldn't help the sharp intake of air through her nostrils upon that first moment of sweet contact between his fingers and her core, and that wave of hot lust returned, burning through her body like a wildfire. The lightly throbbing pain on her earlobe only seemed to intensify the pleasure as an unwanted temptation to give into Damien and his carnal desires. No, no, NO, I don't want to be your little fuck toy, you stupid cunt. Go take that filthy language elsewhere , Macy internally snarled, but she kept silent, refusing to answer him even when he asked his question. But with each passing moment she could feel the internal battle between her will and the growing lust coming to a close, with the dark lust emerging as the victor. Even in her shame, embarrassment and mortification at it all, her legs opened wider to allow his expert hand more access to her uncontrollable growing wetness. And finally, when the hazy desire had consumed her, she let out a long, drawn out muffled groan against the makeshift gag. Damn her body for wanting this. She knew then that she lost, but Macy still fought for the control that she once wielded so easily. Her hips tried to move back to escape the hand on her sex, and when it failed she tried to move forward again, only managing to grind her body against Damien's palm. The few years of self inflicted sexual depravation resulted in plenty of pent up sexual energy that the tall, powerful man had just released, and one of her hands reached to wrap around his wrist down below, gripping it weakly as she continued the slow and novice movement on his warm, wicked fingers.The sense of animosity toward the man still existed, but it was slightly muted by the shameful lust of the hussy act she was committing. Then in a moment of clarity, she attempted to push away his arm just as she had brushed off his earlier caress. It was a half-assed attempt really, as another moan ripped from her throat as she did it, but she was sure it got the point across. Mmmf mmm hmmm mhmmf! came from her gagged mouth, a string of unintelligible sounds that were most likely supposed to be some kind of protest to Damien's actions.