That day, Lucy followed Ms. Quinn’s commands perfectly. She ate her breakfast, listened attentively during their meetings, took detailed notes, and did her best to impress the clients. Afterward, she had dinner alone, took a shower, and waited for Ms. Quinn to call her to her room. After what felt like an eternity, with her body humming with need, the call she had been anxiously awaiting finally arrived. Ms. Quinn’s voice on the other end was calm and steady. “I’m ready for you,” she said before the phone disconnected with a dial tone.
The hotel suite door clicked shut behind her, sealing Lucy in a pocket of expectant silence. Her whole body felt like a plucked string, vibrating with the day’s denied hunger. The living room was empty, bathed in the cool blue twilight filtering through the windows. A soft light spilled from the open bedroom door.
Lucy moved toward it, her flats silent on the plush carpet. She paused in the doorway.
Ms. Quinn was there, on a low, velvet-upholstered loveseat angled toward the cityscape. Naked. The dying light sculpted her curves in shades of charcoal and deep bronze. She sat with a regal, indolent grace, one arm draped along the back of the seat, the other holding her phone. Her legs were parted, resting on the floor, offering an unobstructed view. The smooth, hairless mound of her sex glistened faintly.
She didn’t look at Lucy. Her attention was on her phone’s screen. “Close the door,” she said, her voice a low hum in the quiet room.
Lucy obeyed, the latch engaging with a solid thump that felt final.
“Come here.”
Lucy approached, her eyes drinking in the sight. Ms. Quinn’s skin looked like warmed silk. The full, heavy weight of her breasts, the dark nipples drawn tight. The powerful line of her thighs. And there, at the center, that mesmerizing, slick split.
Finally, Ms. Quinn lowered her phone. She looked at Lucy, her gaze appraising, utterly calm. “Let’s see how well you remember your lessons.”
The command was simple. Absolute. A tremor of pure want shook Lucy’s core. Without a word, she slowly began to undress, each piece of clothing falling away until she stood before Ms.Quinn in nothing but her bare skin, vulnerable to any prying eyes that might be watching through the hotel window. Then Lucy steadily sank to her knees on the carpet in front of the loveseat. The plush pile was soft against her shins. The scent of Ms. Quinn’s skin, clean and musky and uniquely hers, filled Lucy’s head. Lucy’s lips parted as she exhaled warm, heated breath, ready to fulfill the unspoken promise between them.
Ms. Quinn lifted her phone again, aiming it. She pressed the red recording button and announced, “Begin,” her voice firm and clear.
Lucy leaned forward, her hands coming to rest on the smooth skin of Ms. Quinn’s inner thighs. They were warm, solid. She could feel the subtle tension in them. She bent her head, her breath ghosting over the exposed flesh.
Her first touch was a reverent stroke of her tongue, a long, flat lick from the very bottom of that smooth slit up to the swollen peak of her clit. Ms. Quinn’s taste exploded on her tongue, salty, musky, profoundly female. It was the taste from her dreams. A soft, shuddering sigh came from above her.
“Good,” Ms. Quinn murmured, the word vibrating through Lucy’s skull. “Now, slower. Make me feel every inch.”
Lucy obeyed, repeating the motion with a languid, deliberate pace. She focused on the texture, the incredible softness of her outer lips, the smoother, wetter skin within, the firm little bud at the top that grew harder under her attention. She circled it with the tip of her tongue, a gentle, persistent pressure.
“Use your lips. Suck.”
Lucy opened her mouth, taking the swollen nub between her lips, applying a gentle, rhythmic suction. Ms. Quinn’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk. A soft moan filtered down. The phone in her hand remained perfectly steady.
“Deeper now. Don’t be shy with it.”
Lucy slid lower, her tongue seeking the source of the wetness. She pressed inside, tasting a deeper, richer flavor. She fucked her with her tongue, shallow thrusts that made Ms. Quinn’s breath catch. Lucy’s own need was a screaming thing between her legs, a desperate, empty ache. Her hand strayed from Ms. Quinn’s thigh, inching toward the throbbing heat of her own sex.
“Ah-ah.” Ms. Quinn’s voice was a whip-crack. “Your hands stay on me. Your pleasure is mine to give. Not yours to take.”
Lucy whined, a sound of pure frustration, but pulled her hand back, gripping Ms. Quinn’s thigh instead. She buried her face deeper, her tongue laving and probing, losing herself in the act of service.
“Don’t forget my ass, Lucy,” Ms. Quinn instructed, her voice gaining a breathy edge. “You remember.”
Lucy did. She shifted, her tongue trailing down through dripping wetness, past Ms. Quinn’s sodden entrance, to the tight, crinkled furl beneath. She hesitated for only a second.
“Lick my fucking ass, Lucy.”
Lucy pressed the flat of her tongue against it, then pointed the tip, circling, teasing. Ms. Quinn’s thighs tensed on either side of her head. Lucy licked with firm, wet strokes, her nose buried deep in the slickness of Ms. Quinn’s supple folds. The intimacy was dizzying, filthy, perfect. She could hear the wet sounds of her own work, could feel Ms. Quinn’s body beginning to coil, to tighten.
“Yes… right there… just like that…” Ms. Quinn’s words were coming in pants now. The phone wavered slightly. “Don’t stop. Lick it like a nasty girl.”
Lucy doubled her efforts, her tongue a relentless instrument of worship on Ms. Quinn’s sensitive ring, while her nose dipped in and out of her velvety flesh above. As she worked, Lucy could feel Ms. Quinn’s throbbing clit pressed against the bridge of her nose, each lick and nudge sending shivers of pleasure through both of them. The sensation was intoxicating, the intimate contact feeding her growing need to serve, to please Ms. Quinn; she was a mess of spit and arousal, her world narrowed to taste, scent, and the sounds of her boss’s unraveling.
Ms. Quinn’s free hand fisted in Lucy’s hair, not guiding, just holding, claiming. A series of sharp, gasping cries broke from her lips. “Fuck. Lucy. Now!”
Her body bowed, a taut arc of pleasure. A hot, silken rush flooded over Lucy’s tongue, her chin, her cheeks. The scent intensified, rich and overpowering. Lucy kept licking, gentler now, through the pulsing waves, drinking her in until the grip on her hair loosened and Ms. Quinn sank back against the loveseat, breathing heavily.
The phone lowered. Ms. Quinn’s finger pressed the square stop button.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then, Ms. Quinn’s hand, slick from her own release, cupped Lucy’s jaw. She pulled her up. Lucy rose on unsteady knees, her face glistening. Ms. Quinn’s eyes, dark and sated, looked into hers. Then she kissed her.
It was deep, possessive, a sharing of taste, the tang of Lucy’s own saliva, and the unmistakable, musky flavor of Ms. Quinn’s climax. Lucy moaned into it, her body screaming for touch.
Ms. Quinn broke the kiss, her lips curving. “Up here with me.” She guided Lucy to turn and sit, then settled behind her, pulling Lucy back to rest against her warm chest. Lucy’s back was to Ms. Quinn’s front, her head tucked under Ms. Quinn’s chin. Ms. Quinn’s arms came around her, one hand splaying possessively over Lucy’s stomach, the other drifting down, down, over the trembling plane of her abdomen, through the coarse patch of hair, to rest gently over Lucy’s soaked cunt. Lucy jerked at the contact, a sob of relief catching in her throat.
Ms. Quinn’s lips were at her ear. Her finger drew a slow, maddening circle around Lucy’s clit, but applied no real pressure. “Did you imagine me finger-fucking your cunt again last night as you masturbated?”
“Yes,” Lucy choked out, her hips involuntarily pushing against that soft, teasing hand.
“I’m curious about something.” Ms. Quinn’s voice was a conversational purr, even as her finger dipped lower, gathering wetness and spreading it. “Tell me about the best lover you ever had, Lucy. What did he do to make you open your legs for him, and what did he do to make this pretty little cunt cum?”
The question, in this position, with that hand between her legs, was surreal. Lucy’s mind, fogged with lust, scrabbled for coherence. She felt her own juices slicking Ms. Quinn’s fingers. “He… he made me feel wanted. Sexually. He wanted me all the time, in every way.” Her words came in panting bursts.
“You love feeling wanted… desired, don’t you, Lucy?” Ms. Quinn inquired, her tone as soft as a whisper.
“Yes,” Lucy breathed.
“It turned you on to give yourself his desires, to open yourself to his needs, his pleasures.”
“Oh, yes,” Lucy moaned, her hips rising again to Ms. Quinn’s fingers.
“How did he take you for his pleasure, Lucy?”
“In every way… My mouth… My pussy…”
“Your cunt,” Ms. Quinn firmly interrupted.
“Yes, my cunt,” Lucy continued. “He loved fucking my cunt, he would fuck me so hard and cum inside me. He would cum so much… more than anyone. It was so messy, so sticky… Then he would eat me out. His tongue was so good, he would make me cum with his mouth until I couldn’t take it.”
“Did he fuck your little ass too?” Ms. Quinn queried as her finger moved down over Lucy’s pleated hole that was slick with her juices.
“Yes,” Lucy breathed out as she could feel her ass pucker open to welcome Ms. Quinn’s circling digit.
“Oh… Yes, he… he was the only person that ever made me cum that way. The only person that I craved that way.”
“It feels like you crave me in that way, Lucy,” Ms. Quinn’s finger lightly tapped against her slick pleated entrance.
“I… I crave you in every way… Ms. Quinn,” Lucy panted out, her chest rising up and down with her words.
Ms. Quinn ignored her confession and continued, “Why are you not with him now?” Ms. Quinn asked, her fingertip circling over Lucy’s pleated ass, slightly pressing into it.
Lucy’s head fell back against Ms. Quinn’s shoulder. “He treated me like I was his… but he was married. In the end, he chose his wife.”
“Did you love being his little slut?”
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air, raw and honest.
Ms. Quinn’s hand shifted. Her middle finger pressed inward, sinking into Lucy’s quivering ring in one smooth, claiming thrust. Then almost instantly, Lucy felt Ms. Quinn’s thumb dive into her sodden folds. Lucy cried out, her body arching, her cunt and ass clenching wildly around the sudden, glorious dual invasion.
“Lucy,” Ms. Quinn whispered, her lips brushing Lucy’s ear as her fingers began to move, a slow, devastating rhythm. “I’m going to make you want me ten times more than you ever wanted him.” Her fingers moved in an erotic rhythm that made Lucy see stars. “You are going to be my little slut. Do you want that, Lucy?”
The pleasure was a white-hot wire, pulling taut from her core to her toes. Ms. Quinn’s fingers, her voice, her commanding presence surrounding her—it was more consuming, more terrifying, more everything than anything before.
“Yes,” Lucy moaned, the word tearing from her throat as her hips began to meet each thrust. “More than anything. Yes.”
