Jul. 7th, 2014 10:07 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Daria)
Title: Client
Author: hannah_chapter
Summary: A prostitute and his client.
Pairing: Belldom.
Rating: 18/NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse and this definitely did not happen.
Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Streetlight glints off the smooth black hide and tinted windows of the BMW as it rolls to a stop. The back door opens. He's waiting for me. I shiver in anticipation.

Then I get in.

He's dressed in a suit. He always is. An expensive one, if I'm any judge. It doesn't matter. He could wear anything, expensive, tailor-made suit, black plastic sack, and he'd still ooze the kind of raw sex appeal that brings men and women to their knees. I've been in this car with him for less that a minute and I'm already unbelievably, painfully hard.

The driver pulls away from the curb and my client pushes me down to kneel at his feet.

"Take me in your mouth," he commands.

Yes, oh yes.

I open his trousers and draw him out of his boxers. I know how he likes it. I push back the foreskin and lick the head, quick, teasing licks, lapping at him like a cat with a bowl of cream until he rocks his hips, impatient. Then I relax my throat and take him all the way in.

His fingers are in my hair, tugging at the short strands as I service him. He groans and jerks upwards and I cease bobbing my head as he proceeds to fuck my mouth and throat, each thrust harder than the last until his hips snap up one last time and he pours himself into me.

I wipe my mouth, sit beside him. We cruise through busy city streets, smooth jazz spilling out of the car speakers while he recovers. When he's erect again he snaps his fingers and the driver takes lube from the glove compartment and tosses it to me.

The driver doesn't speak.

He never does.

"You know what to do," my client tells me.

I do. I take my trousers off, spread cold liquid on my fingers and do to work. When I'm open and ready I take some more lube and grease him up. Then I face away from him and lower myself onto his waiting tool.

He's not gentle. He never is. He's rough and domineering and I wouldn't have it any other way. A man like this has no time for gentle. And even if he did, why should he be gentle with a whore like me?

I moan and clutch the seat in front of me as he uses me, jackhammers up into me. Good, oh! So, so good.

"Do you like it, slut," he growls, "do you love it?"

"Yes, I love it. I always love it."

"Of course you do. Because you're mine," he pants between thrusts, "my slut. My filthy little whore."

"Yours," I sob as his cock hits just the right spot, then hits it again, and again, "your slut, yours, yours, yours."

"That's right. You're mine. Now and always."

I nod, beyond speaking now as I tremble on the brink of a brain-melting orgasm. Almost, almost...

His next thrust does the trick and I howl and claw the seat, nails leaving grooves in the fine leather. He growls and swears as he spills into me for the second time tonight.

And then it's over.

We clean ourselves up and the driver brings me back to the pick up spot. My client hands me a thick wad of banknotes, tells me he'll see me soon. I get out and watch the BMW glide away, my arse sticky and throbbing in the best way.

It's been a long time, almost two years in fact, since he swept into my life and told me I belonged to him now. Almost two years since he bought exclusive rights to my body and services and I still know nothing about him. I don't know his name, what he does for a living, or why this magnificent sexual being would pick me above all others. All I know is I belong to him now.

And I always will.


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