Controlling Chrissy Page 7

  She told him where to get off.

  His response was swift and severe. A crack of his palm on her exposed thigh, hard enough to turn it bright red. Chrissy squealed in protest, immediately moving both hands down to protect herself. Her motion was predictable and played right into his hands. Before she could react, he'd snaked his fingers inside her tank top and seized her nipple.

  "Hands behind your head," he repeated. "Chest thrust out."

  "Ow," Chrissy protested, though she did as she was told. "That hurts."

  "This," he crushed her nipple, bringing tears. "Is what disobedience feels like."

  "Please," she whimpered. "I want to obey. Give me a chance to obey."

  Derek released her, putting his hand to her lips. "Kiss."

  Chrissy tremored, offering soft obeisance to the fingers that had brought her so much pain. She was so open and wet now, she wanted nothing more than to submit to his cock, feeling it push masterfully between her legs. But he reminded her he had other plans.

  "Go find a trucker, Chrissy. Sell him your mouth. Take twenty for it, ten if he bargains."

  "Why can't I stay with you?" She tried to suck at his fingers, letting him know what a good job she would do on his cock.

  He delivered another smack to her thigh. This time she did not remove her hands from behind her head. Instead she took it, her entire body jerking in response, pushing toward him, wet and willing, as if it had been a sexual thing.

  "You still haven't learned, have you?" he said coldly.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, nearly in tears.

  "Lift up your shirt to your neck."

  He slapped each breast hard, making her moan. Before she could recover, he moved to her thighs.

  "Open."

  She parted her legs, allowing him access.

  "The reason you can't stay with me," he moved his fingers inside her cruelly. "Is because I said so. Now give my your lips."

  Scared, aroused, skittish, she leaned forward.

  It wasn't a kiss so much as another level of punishment, hot, teasing and overwhelming as he drew the remainder of the breath from her body, sapping what little strength she had left. She wanted nothing else now but to melt into him, to obey, and to take pain, as long as it pleased him and turned him on, for that was her own essence, the core he'd just reduced her to.

  In the back of her mind Chrissy knew she had to fight these feelings. She was better than this. She was a woman who controlled her destiny, not one who let a man manipulate and control her. But how did she tell her body that when it craved this man's touch so much? When it felt like the rising sun to have him deign to use her lips for his oral enjoyment.

  Chrissy moaned as he released her. Her eyes were moist. She was short of breath, wanting to give him … everything.

  "Go on, Miss Newland," he gave her marching orders. "You know what you need to do."

  She remembered his words, how after they were intimate, he would call her Chrissy. Did that offer still hold? Was there any chance he'd still have her?

  "Afterwards," she said, her eyes downcast. "May I … be with you?"

  His face betrayed no emotion. "When you are done you will come immediately back here and you will hand me the money, Miss Newland. That is your only concern at the moment."

  "Yes, Derek." She may as well have called him sir, for all the authority he now held over her.

  "Leave your purse. Oh, and one final thing," he waited till her hand was on the door handle. "I want you to swallow."

  Chrissy's body went weak. "But I've never–"

  "It's not very difficult," he said curtly. "Just pretend your mouth is a cunt and take it down. Now get a move on or I'll double the quota and make you do two."

  "Yes, Derek." Hot and helpless and without underwear, she staggered from the car and down the street. It was like a dream, one she kept trying to wake up from, only to find herself in deeper. How had it gotten this far? Somehow from flirting with a man at a bar, she ended up street walking – correction – black top walking, hot on the trail of some semi driver who'd be willing to take a break from hauling his load so he could spill one – right down the back of her throat and into her belly.

  How was she supposed to even find a trucker to do this with? What if she went up to the wrong one and got herself raped? Or turned over to the police? Unsteadily she walked between the rows of trucks, feeling like a piece of bait swimming through a school of sharks. She could see the drivers, watching her from behind their oversized steering wheels. A couple of them were eating, one was drinking from a Thermos. The overhead lights were shining cool silver on her skin, lending an eerie color to her own flesh.

  What in the world could they be making of her?

  Ahead she saw a blonde girl in a red midriff top, white boots and a suede skirt. Color coordinated as only a lady of the evening could be. So it was true. They really did come out here just like on the street corners in the city. The girl sashayed, nice and slow, as if she were on a fashion runway. Chrissy hung back, to see what would happen.

  One of the drivers rolled down his window. He had a greasy ball cap on. His cab was purple. On the side he'd drawn bolts of lightning in reflective silver paint. He called something down to the girl and she flashed him a smile.

  Then she flashed him something a whole lot more personal than a smile. Liking the look of her pale, exposed crotch, he signaled for her to come around the passenger side. Next thing Chrissy knew, the little woman was climbing up into the behemoth of a vehicle. Just like that, another transaction had been sealed in the world's oldest profession.

  She followed the man back between the seats and they both disappeared out of sight. Sure enough, there must have been a bed behind there. Just like a hotel room, only no worries about noisy neighbors.

  "Hey, little lady, you looking for a date?"

  Chrissy's heart froze. She'd been spotted. The man was next to her, smoking a cigarette. Tall and lanky, with a pair of faded, well-worn jeans and a green, army style tee shirt. He had a pack of his cigarettes rolled up in the one sleeve and a pair of black motorcycle boots. His brown hair was long braided down his back. He had a longish nose, a thin mustache and goatee. He wore the goatee in a braid, too. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, and he had a thick belt with a silver buckle. He was thin, but not too much so. Chrissy found herself fascinated with how he stood there, half posing, like some kind of cowboy.

  He'd asked her about a date. She knew that was a way to talk about buying sex without actually saying it. But what was the correct reply?

  "I've never done anything like this before," she answered, saying the first thing that came into her head.

  God, how stupid that must sound, even if it was true.

  He smiled without smirking. She appreciated that very much. "Well, I reckon everybody's gotta start somewhere. Or course it'll all be a let down after me."

  Chrissy laughed, especially as he was winking. This was helping a lot to break the ice, but what if he wanted something more than oral. "Mister, can I be honest be with you?"

  He shrugged, taking another drag off the cigarette. "You'd be the first woman ever was, but I'm game."

  She took a deep breath, knowing if she didn't get it all out in one breath she never would. "Okay, here goes. I'm not a whore, I'm just a regular girl, but I got myself in this weird thing, and there's this guy, I sort of like him, and well, he makes me do things and…"

  "And tonight he wants you to be a whore."

  Chrissy gulped. "Nothing gets past you does it?"

  "Well, I'm actually a Harvard professor," he quipped. "I'm just driving a rig on sabbatical."

  She laughed outright over that one.

  "You can't actually fuck me, though," she ventured afterward. "Just use my…"

  "You're offering fellatio, in other words," he spared her making a graphic description.

  "Wow, you are making this so easy. How can I ever thank you?"

  "How about giving me a discount?"

 
Chrissy grinned. "I won't charge you a penny. How's that?"

  "Suits me," he shrugged. "But doesn't your friend want to see some money when it's all said and done?"

  "I'll use my own. He'll never know."

  He shook his head, pulling a billfold from his wallet. "Nah, I don't take charity. Here's forty bucks." He peeled off two twenties and handed them to her. "As a matter of fact, I'll make you a deal. Just give me a nice kiss on the cheek and I'll be happy to tell him you the did the deed, best blowjob I ever had."

  "I don't accept charity either," she replied firmly. Chrissy folded the money and pushed it under the band of her watch. "So where do we do this?"

  "As it so happens," he announced, "there's an opening in the Presidential Suite."

  She giggled as he took her hand, leading her to his truck. It was a bright blue cab, with black decorations. The word Snake was painted on the side, along with a black viper.

  "That's me," he said, though he didn't seem very snake-like to her.

  Snake told her the name and the fearsome looking designs helped keep away busybodies and insured no one would mess with his rig. And what a wild rig it was. The inside was covered in exotic leopard fur, from the seats, down to the steering wheel. As for the bed in back, it was an actual waterbed surrounded by mirrors on the ceiling and sidewalls.

  "Too bad you can't get the full works," he bragged good-naturedly. "The Snake always leaves his ladies satisfied."

  It was at this point Chrissy learned the real reason he was known as Snake. Sitting himself on the edge of the bed, he unzipped his fly and pulled out a long, thin member, curved and stiff.

  "Oh, my," she crouched at his feet. "I'm not sure I can…"

  "Don't worry about it. Do your best. I grade on the curve."

  Chrissy kissed the head of Snake's member. It leaped to life at once. The vein underneath was literally throbbing. She thought about her connection to the man in the red sports car. For all intents and purposes, it was Derek's cock. Derek was the reason she was here now, and the reason she was putting this man on her lips. He was also the reason she would suck. And swallow.

  Chrissy had never taken a man's seed into her stomach before. No one had ever balked if she'd spit their semen out. It was enough of a treat for them to be allowed to come in her mouth at all. Sometimes she'd make a game of it and try and see if she could get them to spill themselves before getting near her mouth in the first place. It was mean and if Derek knew about it he'd use it as one more occasion to get on her ass. But men had so many advantages, why not level the playing field a little?

  "Mmm," said Snake as she licked around the tip of him. "That's what I'm talking about."

  Encouraged, Chrissy ventured a little further, dabbing her sandpaper tongue further down the shaft. His hands were gentle on her hair, and for a split second she caught herself wishing he'd be rougher. Opening her lips wide, she popped the head of him in her mouth. This was all too tame. She wanted to hear wild noises. She wanted him groaning. She wanted him using her.

  Snake's cock was getting larger. She scooted forward on her knees to get more leverage. Snake sloshed on the waterbed. Wrapping her fingers around the base of him, she tried to make a continuous tube to cover the whole of him. It was a challenge, what with his length. She did manage to take him clear to the back of her throat (Chrissy was very proud at having learned to suppress her gag reflex long ago) but it was not enough.

  "Easy there, sweetie," he crooned. "You don't have to impress me anymore. You already got an A."

  But she did have to impress Derek. It was as if he was over her shoulder, watching, evaluating, ready to punish her slightest misstep.

  Was he going to use her tonight when her little performance here was over? Would Derek make this the night to claim her? She hated herself for even thinking that way. Why should she care? What right had he to claim her? He was nothing to her, nothing at all.

  What kind of man would make a woman do this, compelling her to lick and suck a stranger's dick, arousing and pleasing him till he ejaculated down her throat? Worse than that, what kind of twisted mind would make a woman do such a thing of her own accord?

  "Oh yeah, baby," Snake was shaking it, getting ready to unload deep and hard. "I'm ready to go. Let me just take it out for you."

  Oh, god, he wanted to withdraw before ejaculating. She had to stop him. Desperately, she clung to his waist with her small hands.

  "What are you doing, baby?"

  Chrissy let him know exactly what she was doing; sucking deep and hard, she pressed her tongue up underneath, making sure he had no choice.

  "Oh, Jeezus," he grunted. "Gonna fucking … come…"

  Snake shot his load, thick and warm, spurt after spurt. Chrissy took it down like a vacuum hose before he could change his mind. He was making more of those noises, deep male noises of supreme satisfaction. His fingers twisted devotedly in her hair as he called out a string of endearments.

  Chrissy smiled, even with the man's dick in her mouth. He really was a decent sort. Far more of a gentleman than Derek Trace.

  "Oh, baby," he sighed, falling back on the waterbed. "I may not walk straight for a week."

  "Just make sure you can drive straight." She bent over him, gave him a final kiss and slipped his money back into his hand. "You keep this. Buy a nice dinner, think of me."

  "You drive a hard bargain." He gave her a kiss, sweet and sharp. "Trust me, though, I won't need any fancy dinner to think of you. I'll have you on my mind for a long, long time."

  "Thank you," she demurred. "I consider that an honor."

  Feeling pretty damned good, Chrissy climbed back out of the cab into the cool night air. This little 'prostitution' exercise had turned out pretty well. She'd been able to have a decent little time and she hadn't taken a nickel for it. All she'd have to do was get a twenty from her purse, give it to Derek and tell him–

  Oh, fuck. Her purse was in the front seat of his car. What the hell was she going to do now? Could she grab it and make an excuse to go to the ladies' room first? Then she would be able to get the money out and he'd be none the wiser. With her luck, though, he'd want to see it right away.

  Her heart slammed in her chest as she saw the lights of the red car, slowly approaching. He must have been right around the corner the whole time.

  "I need to go to the rest room," she leaned in his window as soon as he pulled up.

  "Go on," Derek said.

  Here was the tricky part. "May I have my purse? I have … female things in it."

  She was counting on him being a typical male – totally unwilling to look into the details of such matters.

  "Don't be long," he handed the leather bag out the window.

  "I won't," she promised. "Thank you, Derek."

  Chrissy heaved a sigh of relief. She had dodged a bullet. No bizarre, draconian punishments for her tonight. Happily, she had a twenty in her wallet. A small price to pay to put this whole incident behind her. She was pretty proud of herself, saving her honor and Snake's both. As for Derek, he could think what he liked. A man like that didn't deserve the truth.

  "Thank you," she chimed a few minutes later as she sat back down in the red sports car, careful to smooth her skirt down before putting her ass on the leather. "That's much better. Oh, I almost forgot. Here's the money I got. Twenty dollars. Just like I was supposed to."

  Derek took the money and turned on the roof light. What the fuck was this? Was he checking to see if it was a counterfeit?

  "Here," he pointed to a red slash in the corner. "Do you see that?"

  "Yes. So what?"

  "I put that there, on the twenty you had in your wallet already. You didn't get this from any trucker."

  Oh, shit. That is what she got for trying to outsmart someone like Derek Trace.

  "But I did do what I was supposed to," she said quickly. "I performed fellatio on him. I swallowed every last drop. I swear it."

  Derek looked at her, expressionless. "Take off your clothes, Chr
issy, all of them."

  Panic flooded her. What would he do with her in the dark, way out here in the boonies? He could rape her. Even kill her. "Please," she cried. "I don't want to die, Derek."

  "Stop blubbering," he chided. "I have no intention of ending your silly little life. You're going to be punished, that's all."

  "Derek, I can't take anymore punishment. It's too much."

  "Actually it is precisely what you need, and apparently what you want, too, since you keep insisting on disobeying me."

  "I'll obey now, give me a chance, I will."

  It was sheer desperation and they both knew it.

  "You will strip naked," he repeated the command. "Or I will rip the clothes from your cringing body.

  Chrissy cowered, knowing herself to be beaten. "What will you do to me afterward?" She asked meekly.

  "Whatever I want to, Miss Newland."

  She looked around at the lighted lot. "May we go where it's darker?"

  Derek's hand reached for her top, ready to shred it.

  "No, don't," she wailed. Chrissy shed the top and the skirt at lightning speed.

  "Throw them in the back seat."

  Chrissy tossed them over her shoulder. Derek grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face down onto his crotch. Chrissy breathed his manhood, her own womanhood surging with need.

  "Take it out," he commanded. "Suck it."

  Derek had her hands. He was locking them behind her back with a pair of steel handcuffs. The only way she would get his cock out would be to use her teeth to grab at the zipper. The steel cuffs bit into her wrists. The implications were terrifyingly, pussy-clenching clear. She was now in naked bondage. At this man's complete mercy. Sexual and otherwise. The way she sucked him now might well determine her entire future.

  It was a sobering thought and a well-learned lesson in submission.

  She would suck as she'd never sucked a man before. She would strive with all her being to please Derek. She would make him, and his dick, the center of the world. Her loins continued melting at the new reality, even as she stretched her torso across the leather seat for better access.

  "Women like you are never as clever as you think," he said. "My father has dealt with your kind his whole life, and he's taught me everything I know. If you knew, Miss Newland, what you were dealing with, really, you would not be so quick to test me. As it is, you've another hard lesson ahead."