Devil In The Waters, Book 3, Chapter 2c (partial)

Devlin held the lapels of her suit jacket and she complied, lowering before him, Devlin’s grip making sure she didn’t collapse. The points of her knees touched the hard metal. She looked up, kneeling before this powerful man, hands tied behind her back, face upturned and waiting to see what he wanted. Though she knew what he wanted. He smiled. Without being told, her eyes lowered, looking straight ahead at the crotch of his pants. Waited for him to unzip it. Wanting to see it.

Devlin’s hands came together; she watched his pinched thumb and knuckle draw down his zipper. Waited, eager. He fished out his over-size penis, the long thing bending, then let it go to dangle and bob before her. Not hard but so incredibly enormous. The most perfectly masculine and sexual thing she’d ever seen. A heavy club of pale flesh, enormous and male and not even turgid yet. A frightening and powerful cudgel of sexual domination. It swayed side to side, heavy, veins beginning to rise against its gummy surface while she watched.

Devlin said, “Open your mouth,” and she did. He caressed her neck, guided her to look upright. Their eyes met, and then Devlin hefted his cock and rested it on her cheek. It crossed the corner of her mouth, along the side of her nose, the end bowing to rest its chin in the cup of her eye. She could feel the line of heat against her skin, lashes on her open eye fluttering, his cock heavy but boneless, like a warm cutlet. Devlin smiled, her boss enjoying the juxtaposition of his extra large cock resting on her face. She ran out her tongue, and he drew back his hips, the weight of his manhood sliding across her face, her tongue eager to accept the head. 

They worked together, him guiding his hips forward, stuffing with two fingers the head of his cock into her waiting mouth. She took him against her tongue and palate, eyes turned up to his, sucking on that fat corpulent part of his cock. It swelled and pulsed in her mouth; grew larger and firmer.

“That’s it,” he said, holding her ears and caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. When he was stiff enough to suck, Devlin guided her forward, her weight on the points of her knees, arms flexing and tightening, her hands at the small of her back.

She wanted to please him. Wanted to submit to him.

With one hand on the back of her head, the webbing between thumb and forefinger braced on the base of her bun, he began to fuck her mouth. He grew even larger and harder. Too large to suck properly. She concentrated on the head, narrowing her mouth, tight bursts of flatulent suction as they both worked in unison, hips thrusting, neck and head bobbing. Spit overflowed and ran down her chin and neck. When he leaked in her mouth, she swallowed. Eyes squinted shut, her body tightened like a bow, his cock an arrow running back and forth in the notch of her mouth. She wanted him to come. Wanted to be the one to detonate that explosion of liquid pleasure. Wanted him to know she could do that for him. Wanted most his strong hands on her, wanted his control, wanted his domination.

It went for minutes, her shaping her tongue around his big cock and trying to pleasure him, snorting for breath.

She choked and cried, knowing finally he was close, knowing she could do it, make him come.

Her head bobbed faster, Devlin fucked her mouth harder. His breath came in quick animal snorts and she waited and waited, wanted it . . . And then he was coming in her mouth. Roaring and stabbing, his size forcing the ring of her lips wide, blasting hot jets against the back of her throat. Her nose flooded with the scent of his sexual brine and she coughed, choked, felt his come burn the inside of her right sinus. But she swallowed. Took all of it she could—though it was a tremendous amount—the excess blurting around her blubbering lips thinned by the girth of his cock, gushing over her chin, down her neck, one warm trickle somehow running in a jagged line toward her armpit.

Devlin roared and roared, still coming, still spurting, but falling exhausted toward her, his forearm banging against the metal wall above her head and making the cargo container hum. She moaned and hummed with his cock in her mouth, her boss panting above her.

Outside the whirring motor of a crane let something metal fall heavily against something else metal. A truck backed up, its warning beeps distant but sharp. Head pulled back, she jammed her tongue forward to push his cock out of her mouth, gasping to catch her breath. She fell back with her shoulders against the metal wall, his huge pendulous dick dangling in front of her as she gulped for air. She was hot, skin-slick, throat and mouth wetted by saliva and semen.

Devlin chuckled appreciation, and she liked the sound; a sign she’d done well for him. He dipped, hoisted her to stand with his hands shoveled under her arms. Instead of getting her to her feet, he guided her in a counter-clockwise circle till the backs of her legs touched a lone waist high stack of fertilizer bags on a pallet. He hefted her up to sit.

When he loomed close, she turned her mouth away fearing he would kiss her. He pushed her to lay back with his hand on her chest and she allowed it. He guided her knees up and she let him. He hoisted the front of her skirt up to her waist and she didn’t protest. Instead she rocked and writhed on the plastic fertilizer bags. Hungry, desperate, needing his touch. He gripped the inside of her thigh and she cried out. His hand slipped between her legs, cupped her sex, and she closed her thighs on him, her knees touching.

Devlin’s hand jostled and jiggled, working his fingers into the folds between her legs, and feeling his hand pushing against her sex got her to gasp a bursting echo of air throughout the container. He chuckled again, began massaging circles against her opening over the satin of her panties, face looming close, eyes watching her. He said, “You ever get this wet before?”

“Yes-ss . . .”

“I think you’re lying to me . . .”

“No,” she complained, fighting against her folded arms, eyes opening and closing and opening again. All attention on what his hand did to her pussy, catching glimpses of his face then looking at stacks of pallets and the roof of the container.

“I’ve never seen a woman get as wet as you.”

She gasped again, bucking, stomach tightening and bouncing as a trigger mechanism for her impending orgasm clicked. “Please,” she moaned . . . 

“Please what?”

“Make me come.”

With rough hands, Devlin jabbed thumbs under her skirt and jacked it up to her waist, exposing her naked below her belly button. He grabbed her panties, ripped them at her left hip then pulled hard, the fabric scoring down her long leg and hanging at her ankle. He said, “Show it to me.”

“What . . .?”

“I want to see Kimmy Chang’s little gash.”

“No,” she whimpered, closing her legs, making her knees touch again.

Devlin stepped back, cock wagging half hard, shining wet with her saliva and his come. He moved to the container door, opened it wider to let light flood in. He returned, slow, saying, “Open your legs and show me.”

“No,” she whimpered again, hands straining to be free, wanting to cover them between her legs.

“I want to see it, Kimmy. Show me.”

She moaned, gasped, arched her back, wrists struggling against the fabric of his tie. She stared at the metal ceiling, heart racing, a tap dance pulse on the right side of her neck. The blood had rushed between her legs; her sex felt heavy with engorged weight, her opening had widened to a yawn—she’d never felt so sexual in all her life.

With slow submission, her legs opened. She drew up her feet, high heel shoes folding over against fertilizer bags, opening her legs very wide for Devlin. Showed him exactly what she had between her thighs.

“Fuck, look at that little pussy.”

It was awful. He was disgusting. But he got her stomach tight, and a flock of butterflies lifting up from her sexual core. Her breaths came quicker. Devlin took out his phone, held it up like he would take a picture and she tried to work her legs closed again.

“No. Open them.”

She whimpered, let her knees part, turned her chin up facing away from his camera. Devlin took pictures of her exposed pussy.

”Fuck me . . . God, what a perfect little slit . . .”

The phone tucked in his pocket, Devlin got closer, touched her hipbones, both his large hands resting over them, then his thumbs working over her pubic hair, the curled back right thumb massaging her clitoris, making her mewl and cry out.

“Yeah, you’re going to come,” he said. “You want to come for me? Show your boss how you come . . .”

“Make me,” she said, “God, I love how you make me come . . .”

***

Devlin’s large warm hand worked down the flat of her stomach then crested her mound. The back of her thighs and her ass muscles tightened, and she pumped her hips forward to meet his touch. Blood raced between her legs, and her sex throbbed hot. The sound of her wetness was enormous in the metal confines of the container, slick squishing between her legs as Devlin worked his hand forward and back, her humping against it, his fingers weaving between her sopping furrowed membranes.

Devlin said, “I’ve never seen a woman get so wet.”

She gasped, knots of pain blossoming in the fronts of her shoulders as her wrists struggled against the restraint of his silk tie. She writhed on the bags of fertilizer, her heel points puncturing the plastic wrap, her feet locked in place now, pointed knees wagging open and closed as Devlin pleasured her with the cup of his palm, creating suction against her opening. And her aperture felt wide and ready to accept his large member. Twenty minutes ago she was telling him she didn’t want to do this, and now she was moments away from another one of Devlin’s huge orgasms. “Make me come . . .”

“Kimmy wants to come . . .”

“Please, make me come . . .”

Devlin pushed his fingers down between her legs, the pads of his two middle fingers tugging on the bottom yoke of her membranes, massaging against that thin banjo string between her vagina and anus. She held her breath as he teased her anus with his middle finger, pulsing and circling. Then the two fingers came up quick and she inhaled, dropping her ass down on the fertilizer, Devlin sliding two fingers inside her vagina, spreading her lips wide, going deep, the finger points bounding over her front wall, smoothing out the folds of her corrugated roof.

“God, your fingers are so big . . .”

“Kimmy, you’re so tight you’re crushing my fingers.”

“Make me come . . .”

Devlin was slow and careful and deliberate. Drawing two fingers out, pushing them in, running the points of them over her front wall, whirling typhoons of white light pleasure behind her closed off eyes. In and out, in and out, getting her writhing and squirming, knees opening and closing, the slow-motion flapping of a bird’s wings as she humped against his fingers’ thrusts, wanting him deep, loving the feel of him inside her body. She told him again: “I love the way you make me come . . .”

“I love watching your face when you do.”

She wanted to say No—hated the thought of being studied—but then submitted. Her hands were behind her back, her shirt open her skirt tugged up; a breast was bared, the nipple bitten hard by the smooth-mouth bite of his gold money clip. He was fucking her with his fingers and she was going to come. It wasn’t time to be shy. Let him have what he wanted.

Her mouth opened and closed as she gasped, surprising soft airy squeaks at the incredible pleasure he delivered. He went slower, then he went faster, then he went too fast and she cried out. Slow again, deep, then deeper. Now from her stomach down she was blazing hot. The container grew dank now, the sex smell more powerful than ammonium nitrate, heavy and funky; the light woodsy musk of Devlin’s cologne suffocated now by the overpowering stench of her pussy. The wetness was unbelievable. The insides of her thighs were slick—she could feel them slick. Rivulets of her juices ran in the crack of her ass. Her butt cheeks were wet; she was sure it was spilling over the fertilizer bags. She’d never been so wet in her whole life.

“Come for me,” he said.

“I’m coming,” she whispered, and the words tightened her stomach as she humped his hand. Devlin gave her exactly what she wanted. The perfect rhythm, the perfect pace, the perfect depth. He fucked her with two fingers—two huge fingers—and then she was rising, high and higher, her ears going soundless and the shut-off space behind her eyes going bright; light as a feather she floated, drew in breath and held it, and then with one sudden crash, she clapped her legs shut tight, a loud flesh-slap, humped forward and threw her legs open, the outsides of her thighs slapping down against the fertilizer bags. She arched her back, and when the thunderclap of orgasm rocketed through her like a lightning bolt, the arch of her back bowed forward and she hunched, chin to her collar, eyes wide, looking between her spread open legs. Devlin’s hand down there glistening with her sex sweat, sparkles of her dew on the dark fabric of his sleeve. His hand pulsed and his fingers thrust deep; his palm pushed down hard on her clitoris and she cried out. All the tight-packed muscles underneath her pelvic floor seized hard in an undulating wave; they tightened while her stomach muscles loosened, then bellowed outward.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she babbled, and then began spritzing all around Devlin’s hand. Shining wet droplets sparkling in the sliver of daylight coming into the cargo container, squirting from her pussy.

She cried, thrust her hips forward, cramps forming from her shoulder blades down the small of her back. She tightened fists behind her.

It kept coming, and Devlin kept fucking with his fingers. Bright streams arced higher now, and Devlin made way for them, stepping aside, closer to her, grabbing the back of her neck and caressing her jawline with his thumb. She rode out overwhelming pleasure with his hand between her legs and her head in the cup of his palm.

He left her whimpering, broken and blown out. She babbled, moaned; tears ran into her hairline. “Oh God, oh God,” she sighed.

“Fuck, you can come,” he said, still stroking fingers in and out of her.

“Holy, oh wow,” she laughed, her stomach bouncing, head falling back. “Oh my God,” she said, looking up at the roof of the cargo container. Every little touch between her legs got her legs and back, jolting like being tickled. “Ah, ha, mm,” she said, “oh, you’ve got to stop . . .”