badapple𝜗ৎ

Nobody told you no. There were consequences for that, ones even Michael couldn’t escape.

And Michael was fed up with it.

He was a little younger than the men you normally involved yourself with, but there was something about the way he handled himself that drew you in. You knew of his public persona, the King of Pop, obviously, but you were new to the entertainment scene and never had the chance of crossing paths. Not until you were invited to the Carousel of Hope charity event some months ago. Watching him walk into the event made your body feel like it was on a string, tethered. He was confident, gait strong in an immaculately tailored milk chocolate suit, like he knew he had a certain magnetism that made rooms shift and bend to his presence. You locked eyes with each other from across the room and it was so intense that you couldn’t look away. You could say it surprised you when his security plucked you out of the crowd thirty minutes later to ask you to come speak to him in private, but you’d be lying. 

Men with that type of power tended to gravitate toward you.

When he spoke, he was polite and very charming. Age brought a level of confidence to his demeanor that made him different from any older man you’d ever spoken to. Once he realized your interest in talking to him as a man and not a superstar, he moved with a comfortability that seemed to be only reserved for people in his close circle. One that made you feel chosen, invited... 

Michael’s words were intentional, and compliments that flowed from his lips sparkled against your sepia skin just as bright as the honey-spun satin mermaid dress shifting around your hips.

He was a gentleman. You’d been sweet-talked before, sure… but this was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. His laser-like focus on you as you spoke, eyes dancing around in a mix of desire, intrigue and admiration activated a familiar flip behind your belly button. He initially asked you about yourself, interested in understanding your motivations behind being there. You were honest, explaining that you were there supporting a childhood friend who helped coordinate events in Beverly Hills.

Conversation bloomed organically. You talked about likes, dislikes, and in those ebbs and flows of shared thought you discovered that Michael was witty. From experience, any man able to keep up with your banter had to be intelligent. It intrigued you… the night went on and you both laughed and laughed, finding things in common that surprised you with him being at least two decades your senior and many, many tax brackets ahead of you. Your bodies were both speaking another language though, not caring about age or status, and as you cycled through riveting topics… they had a mind of their own, inching closer and closer.

Safe to say chemistry was off the charts.

The night ended in a dim hallway separate from the crowds, your hands against the lapels of his brown tailored suit jacket and your bodies flush, his face in the crook of your neck. His cologne was a heady mix of deep and masculine; black currant and spicy sandalwood that paired well with your signature vanilla and tonka bean fragrance. Arms finding home around your waist, his long fingers wistfully rubbed the smooth expanse of your bare lower back. You couldn’t help but smirk as he whispered how right you felt in his arms along with his want to see you again soon.

And this began an arrangement between you and Michael.

He was very particular. Meticulous, detail-oriented, generous. In the conversation that followed, he made his intentions very clear. He was a private person, but a man above all, with needs and desires that he’d hoped you would be willing to fulfill for him. And in return, he wanted to take care of you. You’d want for nothing around him because he prided himself on being a true provider. He offered to change your life in exchange for loyalty, discretion. Move you around the city like royalty. Protect you like his most precious jewel. The contingency of your agreement was that he couldn’t ever tell you no, like ever, and he laughed at that like it was a joke. A challenge. 

You’d show him who held real power. 

One would say you enjoyed it, loved the effect you had on men. It was toxic, sure, but never boring. He’d lived most of his life on a public roller coaster already, so dealing with you privately should be a piece of cake.

As long as he did whatever you asked, especially in that cinnamon sugar tone of yours.

And then it happened.

The first time you pushed Michael’s buttons a time too many, you ended up in his bed restrained by your wrists and ankles to a spreader bar. Your clit so swollen, your heartbeat thumped deeply within the crux of your thighs. 

Seven times. 

He edged you seven times — yes, he made you count, until hot tears of frustration stung your eyes. The seventh time was diabolical: he stared into your eyes and talked to you about how he expected you to correct your attitude with his face in your pussy, pausing every so often to indulgently suck your clit in his mouth to keep your attention on him. You couldn’t move or squirm away, and when you tried he just used the metal bar to pull you closer. His mouth lazily pulsed around the oversensitive nub, just enough. Just enough to keep you right there right there right there but not there enough. Not enough pressure. Not enough speed. Leaving your mind in a hazy limbo, barely coherent. The whimpers and moans that came out of your mouth were desperate, illicit. He just smirked up at you from between your legs, sliding his hands up your sweaty skin to knead your breasts as you begged and pleaded for release. 

Your ego didn’t escape punishment that night. You ended up doing exactly what you were told to do, apologize repeatedly, until he was satisfied and ready to put you out of your pleasure-induced misery. 

And then he made you cum seven times, restrained to that fucking spreader bar, leaving you trembling and undone from the inside out, tears running down your face and thighs.

That night, you learned he had another side to him. It felt like you met your match.

Calculated, observant, commanding. Intense. That interesting something you picked up on the first night you met ended up being his desire for submission and willingness to study, experiment and figure out how to obtain it. He was not afraid of your headstrong personality. Your unwillingness to settle for less than you deserved. He was studying you all the time. He couldn’t get enough. 

You spent more time together, days turned to weeks, months — seven to be exact — eventually becoming a welcome part of his routine.

On one of his late-night calls from the studio, Michael promised that he would take you on vacation. A real one, somewhere tropical, one where he wouldn’t be doing anything but spending time with you and making you happy. Your legs spread as he promised you sun and sex, salaciousness, gently whispering his desires to satisfy your needs one by one. The thought, imagining the things he described in his own personal flavor of soft vulgarity made you so wet. He cooed about giving you all his time as you played with your pussy, squirming against your own fingers like they were an extension of his until you came, leaving you breathless and covered in a mix of sweat and your own juices. 

Then he surprised you with flights to Cabo.

And there was no need to pack. Michael secretly planned this vacation right under your nose and you couldn’t believe it. Last week, he took you around the city, shutting down entire malls just so that you could twirl around in clothes from your favorite designers and pick items that left him even more completely in awe of you. Nothing was too much for you. He whispered in your ear how pretty you were, his princess, as you stood in the dressing room mirror in a particular dress that could only be classified as sinful. One of his hands gripped your hip, the other flat against your lower belly to pull you close and you gasped at the feeling of him against your ass, solid through his slacks. It turned him on watching you put considerable dents in his pockets, so much so that you barely made it out of the mall parking lot before your hands were all over each other in the backseat of his chauffeured car. 

Everything you bought on what you thought was a random Tuesday shopping spree had already been packed for you, in brand new Louis Vuitton trunks ready to ship. 

No worrying about a manicure, pedicure or getting your hair done because your appointments arranged by him the day before went off without a hitch.

The flight was only a couple of hours before you landed in paradise. 

You fell into a nap snuggled into his arms as the sun rose, in the most beautiful villa you'd ever seen in your life. 

𝓅𝒶𝓁𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓉𝒶, 𝓁𝑜𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓈 — ​🇲​​🇴​​🇷​​🇳​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​

The plan was that you were supposed to have a late breakfast with Michael by the pool. You woke up to an empty bed but shrugged it off, figuring that he’d gotten up to make arrangements with the chef or check out more of the property. So you took your time, showering and doing some light makeup before throwing on a green and yellow string bikini.

The closer you got to the staircase, the more obvious it became that there would be no brunch waiting for you downstairs. Confused, you padded around the second level barefoot until you found him the exact spot he told you he wouldn’t be.

Working.

You leaned against the doorway of the office and rolled your eyes. There he was, reclined backwards in the executive chair like the king of the world. And in a way, he was. In his profession he was a monarch, untouchable. He had this need for perfection, which was probably what led him to this phone call he wasn’t supposed to be on in the first place. His brows were furrowed, deep in conversation.

The first thing that caught your eye was his hair, dark curtain bangs styled in wispy layers around his eyes and face. There was something about the style that brought a sort-of androgynous appeal to him. In conversation, his long fingers would raise to sweep it out of the way and your breath would catch, noticing the way it flowed around his cheekbones like strings of silk, flaring out at his chin. You loved how Michael flipped it around when he danced, how he looked up at you through it while he ate your pussy, how it moved in sync with his body as he thrusted inside you.

Right when you were admiring how wide his shoulders looked in his red button down shirt, he noticed you standing there.

Mischief was in your eyes as you walked into the office, his curious eyes on you. Crossed the room. Ignored the chairs completely and sat between him and the desk in front of him. He was supposed to be spoiling you, feeding you fruit with the beach breeze entangled in your curls.

Scooting back, you lifted one leg and pressed those freshly polished toes into his shoulder. His throat nervously bobbed, eyes traveling down your legs, thighs, not daring to look between them.

The visible conflict on his face, intrigue mixed with frustration made you smirk to yourself, feeling like you were winning the war.

You adjusted your bikini top until your taut nipples were exposed to the coastal air.

When his mouth opened to speak, you pushed your middle and ring fingers into his mouth first, which took him by surprise. His eyebrows shot up and you could swear you felt heat coming from his face. Then, you used those fingers to tease and circle around your left nipple, the other hand fully gripping and kneading your right breast. 

Michael didn’t take his eyes off you, not even for a second, as he continued his conversation with his jaw clenched.

You squirmed on the wooden desk, peppering the ambiance with soft sounds leaving your mouth. You played with your nipples until you couldn’t stand it anymore, especially with them being your sensitive spots.

All you could hope is that your private show was enough to steal him back from the discussion he was having about his next project rollout.

“Yes, I want to do an album signing also. Can we arrange that? Wonderful, hold on a moment —“ he pulled the receiver away, looking at you, “I’m almost done, princess. First and last warnin'. Behave.” 

Your hands slid down your body, untying the left side of your bottoms. Spreading your legs in emphasis, you weren’t ever planning on behaving. You wanted him right now.

Moaning, your head lulled backwards as soon as your fingers slid across your folds, legs twitching at the contact. Your toes flexed first, then curled into his shirt while the other foot casually slid up his thigh to discover he was just as aroused as you were.

The distinct, smacking noises of you rubbing your clit turned you on even more. Fuck, you were wet, sticky, and your limbs were getting heavier and heavier as you got closer. Your raised leg hooked onto the back of the executive chair and pulled Michael further between your legs for a closer view.

“Daddy, feels so goodd…” 

His eyes flashed up at you, almost daring you to break his rule about cumming without permission. He didn’t move, didn’t take your bluff. You didn’t falter.

Thinking quickly, you grabbed one of his hands on the desk and guided his fingers inside you. It was your pussy, but nobody made you cum like him. Not even you. The sensation was exactly what you needed to send you into orbit, until the pent up feeling in your lower belly had you grinding down into his hand and shaking roughly into an intense orgasm that made you see stars. 

Michael groaned at the feeling of your walls pulsing around his fingers. One of his weaknesses was experiencing the sensation of you cumming around him, in any way that was physically possible.

He scissored his index and middle fingers inside you, nodding in encouragement as his stare transfixed on the creamy fluid dripping out of you. Biting your lip to muffle your sounds, your eyes rolled back as you rocked your hips over and over until you made a sizable mess all over his hand.

𝓅𝒶𝓁𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓉𝒶, 𝓁𝑜𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓈 ​— 🇦​​🇫​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇳​​🇴​​🇴​​🇳​

Even though you partially got what you wanted, it was still the principle. 

You sucked your own cum off his fingers so there’d be none for him to taste. Hopped off that desk and left him right there in that chair, criminally hard, still scowling.

You purposefully avoided him for the next couple hours.

If you weren’t still mad at him, the sight of him casually reading a magazine in the living area with the most breathtakingly open view of the beach in the background would’ve stopped you in your tracks. He had his glasses on — you thought he was so sexy in them, despite him hating them — but instead of reading, he had the rimmed frames slightly lowered, looking at you.

You were in another tiny bikini, like this morning never happened. Choosing not to engage, you opened the kitchen fridge and enjoyed some chilled fruit. The fruit he shoulda fed you this morning.

“Let’s talk about your behavior today.” You rolled your eyes and turned to him mid-chew. Michael’s eyes traveled up the expanse of your mostly bare body, making you cross your arms over your chest.

“No.”

“Mama, please.”

“Let’s talk about your behavior. You broke your promise to me so why should I have to behave?” Your main objective in this life was to give men who dared to collect you high blood pressure, and Michael was no exception. 

He sighed very deeply before continuing. “That call was about my album. I needed to focus.”

“Your focus was supposed to be on me, nigga. So I redirected you.” You jabbed.

“You like upsettin' me, don’t you?”

“I could ask the same of you. Besides, you didn’t seem too upset.” 

“C’mere. On my lap, princess.” Michael used two fingers, beckoning you over to him on the loveseat. Your feet begrudgingly moved across the kitchen and living room of the villa until you were within his arm’s reach. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you down until your ass was firmly in his lap where he wanted you. Meanwhile, you wanted to keep poking the bear.

“You mad I made your dick hard? Came without your permission?”

“Language,” Michael warned, “you definitely did it anyway, even after I told you not to.”

“But I really needed you to touch me, big daddy,” you whined.

Michael sighed, moving to affectionately rub the sides of your smooth thighs. The sensation of his exceptionally large hands on you made your knees rub together involuntarily.  “And I really needed you to wait, mama. How many times do we have to discuss your impatience?”

“I couldn’t help it. You so sexy when you handling business, daddy...” You turned to look back at him, playfully batting your eyelashes and biting the tip of your finger. 

The edges of his mouth quirked up but he didn’t break. “Mmm, don’t be coy. You’re in trouble.”

One of his hands slid up your body until it found its favorite spot around your neck, pulling you so that your back was against his chest. From there, you couldn’t ignore the intoxicating mix of fragrances that made him — that damn Black Orchid cologne mixed with the cinnamon from his favorite gum.

“I still smell you on my fingers, princess. I can’t justify rewardin' you for what you did this mornin'.”

The sternness in his tone made your pussy throb in response. You fidgeted nervously in his lap. Michael tsked, adjusting your hips with his free hand until his thigh wedged directly between your legs, creating the most delicious pressure to your center. Your hips squirmed down once out of sheer force of habit, starting a chain reaction where your thigh “accidentally” rubbed against his erection. He cursed under his breath before tightening his grip on your neck to still you. It was so hard to fight the urge to ride his thigh, but the increasing pressure of his fingers around your throat let you know that you were well over your quota of testing his limits today. 

Shit.

You already felt yourself panting, lower lips already starting to stick to the scuba material.

“Aht, be still, needy girl. Clothes off, please..”

His hands retreated, giving you room to obey. 

Facing him, you blushed as your back arched, reaching behind you to untie the bottom string of your bikini then the top, until it was discarded into a pool of very little fabric next to your pretty little feet. Michael’s eyes darkened at the sight of your bare breasts, full, round, with stiff peaks reaching out for him just like earlier. You were prey and he was the top of the food chain. The thought made your mouth dry.

“Turn around.”

You complied, coyly bending over to slowly tug your bikini bottoms down your legs. 

Michael audibly groaned at the sight of your ass from behind, the sound traveling from the pit of his chest right between your legs, making you clench. It was one of his favorite parts of you, perfectly shaped and soft, evenly toned, and so smooth. You both joked that he grabbed your ass like a baker kneading dough. He always told you that you had the most amazing ass, loved to watch you stand or walk or anything, just to see. He’d rub on it affectionately during a nap, press up against you from behind and admire how perfect it fit in his lap and between his fingers, kiss on it when he missed you for too long, ease into you from behind to watch how it rippled against his hips as he fucked you, sometimes gripping and slapping it so much that it left handprints behind. 

His hand met your right ass cheek with a sharp, heavy smack, making you whimper. The stinging brought you back to reality… fully cognizant for the gentleness of that same hand sliding across your hot skin. His duality did something to you, stirred something deep within, ignited desire that reeked havoc on your body and made it scream (with and without the s) loudly for him even when you were upset.

Just then, as if you both were thinking the same thing, Michael gripped both cheeks firmly to separate them and reveal your plump pussy lips and inner thighs that were already slick with arousal.

“This what my attention does to you? You drippin’ already, mama.” He asked smugly, already knowing the answer. You purposely made the mistake of staying silent, which earned another rough smack to your right ass cheek.

“Let’s remember to be polite. When I ask a question, what I expect?” His lips affectionately pressed against the stinging spot. The light stubble on his face gave you goosebumps everywhere causing you to moan softly, losing your reserve.

“Mmm, a response, daddy..” 

“You are correct, my spoiled princess brat. Y’had enough fun on my behalf today so now, it’s my turn to use this beautiful body like you used me. Since you got my attention now.”

If he could see your face, he would see your incredulous expression. Yes, you knew you were in trouble but you didn’t expect anything like what was happening.

“Fix your face and focus, mama. You knew I wasn’t gon' make this easy. I wanna see you use your fingers and make another mess for me.” 

You couldn’t see him but you could hear… the sound of his zipper, clothing shifting across his skin, his shaky sigh and grunt under his breath… your mind filled in the blanks. The thought of him behind you, legs spread with dick throbbing in his hand, intent on watching you play with yourself was almost too nasty, too much… enough to drive you crazy. He knew your voyeuristic nature, knew how much you loved to see pleasure blossom in real time, watch it bloom across his face, watch him lose control. 

Not being able to now truly felt like a punishment. 

Once you were on all fours pouting still, you lowered your shoulders down closer to the carpet before sliding your fingers back and forth through the sticky mess between your thighs to tease him. Michael grunted behind you, reaching over to rub and grip on your ass again.

“C’mon, princess… inside.” 

The whimper that came from you was desperate when you slid your middle and ring fingers deep into your exposed pussy, making your walls squelch. Everything about what was unfolding was beyond modesty. A switch turned on in your mind and just like that, you wanted to comply, be good for him, turn into his own personal pornstar. Your fingers slid in and out, in and out, at a pace that made your toes curl, while you imagined your hand was his. 

God, if he would just touch you, something, if you could just sneak a peek…

“Eyes forward — nngh, y’look so good touchin’ yourself for me mama, keep goin'…” His breathing was just as labored as yours and you could hear the moisture in his palm as he long stroked himself, the schlick schlick schlick matching your pace.

“Pleaseeee lemme see, unhh I’m right there.” Your airy moans were muffled against the carpet, hips unsteadily rocked in the air.

“Mmm t-that’s the point baby, you don’t get to w-watch if I’m punishin' you.”

“M’sorry, daddy…- pleeease?”

You felt him move closer, kneeling behind you close enough to feel his erection ghost your thigh as he slowed down his strokes to keep his control. 

“I know you’re sorry, but I need you to follow directions and cum for me first, princess.”

From his mouth to your ears, brain, body… The edges of reality began to blur so you closed your eyes tight, bracing for impact. Everything was so much. The beige rug was creating an unexpectedly delicious sensation, nipples grazing against it just right while your knees were beginning to sting with rug burn. Panting, your pleas for him to touch you turned into a mantra as you teasingly ground into your own palm, hitting that spot inside you, the crazy button that turned you into a woman you didn’t always recognize. Your pleasure cliiiimbed exponentially, higher and higher until your legs shook underneath you.

The first orgasm hit you unexpectedly and you felt like you were about to burst but you kept going, despite your own limits, wanting to be obedient. 

And then that orgasm turned you into a waterfall, which finally earned Michael’s praise.

“Perfect baby, I know you can do it again f'me, c’mon…”

He reached around to tap your clit repeatedly, in your ear encouraging you to cum again until your helpless babbles and moans escalated into another climax of this sinful symphony, accented by the truly obscene sound of your pussy squirting again, just like he asked, leaking from your hand and thighs onto his hands and the carpet.

“I know, mama, I know it feel good, let it out,” He admonished, “I need to be inside you, can’t wait… wanna feel you.“ 

Michael grabbed your hips before they completely gave out, seizing the opportunity to replace your sodden fingers with his intimidatingly hard dick.

Fuck.

A broken sob left your lips, completely blissed out as he slowly slid inside you. The head was mushroom shaped, so whenever he penetrated you for the first time there was always a delicious stretch. God, you were so sensitive, walls flushed and squeezing around his thick shaft just right, always a perfect fit. Michael moaned, hands trembling around your waist as he pulled out allllll the way to the tip before plunging into you again with a snap of his hips. Again. And again. The intensity and precision had you panting, nails digging into the edge of the loveseat next to you, two seconds from crawling away like a wounded soldier.

“What’s the matter,” he chided, sliding his hand down your arched spine until his fingers intertwined in your hair, gripping and pulling to deepen your arch, “too much, princess?”

“‘s too much, daddy, I can’t…” You moaned in reply but he just made it worse, angling just a little bit more until he was long-stroking you, his swollen tip pressing right against your engorged g-spot.

If you died there, it’d be a great death. The movement of his hips had your eyes rolling back so hard you could see the pearly gates, moans sounding pornographic as they echoed off the Aztec architecture.

It was always like this. Michael would end up in control, fucking you in ways that would make God blush. 

“So spoiled, you gon’ take everythin’ I’m givin’ you, right mama?” Smack. “You gon’ listen next time, right?” Smack. “Spoiled with some good pussy, baby… want me to keep goin'?” Smack.

“Fuck, yes daddy.”

“Mmm that’s right, sweet girl…”

Michael throbbed within your pulsing walls, his lap (and abs, partially) covered in your juices. You couldn’t believe he was getting harder but he was, his own body on a parallel path with you to heaven. You knew he was close… you could feel it,  his hands were trembling as he kept himself grounded with a firm grip on your ribs. His strokes were turning into thrusts, getting shorter, sloppier, breathing staccato. 

Warmth spread through you as he wrapped his arms around you, wanting to be as close to you as physically possible. At this point, you’d let him live in your skin if it meant he’d keep stroking into you like this. He kissed on your back and shoulders, making you sigh in contentment, lips grazing the side of your face and neck, finding home on your lips as his gentle hands kneaded your breasts and ass, encouraging you to keep going.

“You feel s’good inside, mama, squeezin' me s’tight — I can’t stop… just a lil’ bit more… just a lil’ more for me.”

He fucked you until your cries went hoarse. For a man his age, he had stamina that you could only dream of. And he was showing off, dragging his dick through your gushy walls repeatedly, calculatedly... his fingers on your swollen clit,handing you a first class ticket to right there right there right there. 

As his body rocked against you, you moaned through gritted teeth when you felt the familiar sensation building in the pit of your stomach. Your limbs were jelly, spent, trying to hold yourself up through the trembling… Michael noticed, guiding you down into the carpet into a mating press, grinding and chasing both your climaxes. He rutted into you a couple more times until it all became too much, losing his composure.

“Aaahh, princess…” 

Michael whimpered against your shoulder, coating your inner walls with an amalgamation of all the frustrated pleasure you’d caused him today. The sound of his moans and pants filling the air were music to your ears, making your face burn as you joined him. Between your blended notes and the feeling of his warm cum inside you, it set off the involuntary clenching of another orgasm, creating a vacuum seal that caused his hips to shudder roughly against your ass.

Your pussy was spoiled — each flutter demanding him to give you everything, no matter the circumstances. 

Spoiled, just like you about him and everything else. There was so much cum, he filled you to the brim with his seed until a blend of you both seeped out.

The world was still hazy, but calm as the cooldown began. When he slid out of you, he tenderly turned you over and pulled you into his arms.

“Got what you wanted?”

“Don’t I always?” 

Michael shook his head and chuckled, kissing your forehead first before sweetly meeting your lips.