#meovv

You press your back against the double hinged doors, pushing through whilst carrying a heavy crate of beer. You grunt in effort as you lift the crate onto the counter, releasing a sigh of relief as you step back, elbows perchiing on the sink behind.

“Looks like it won’t be as busy today, sunbae.”

You turn your head, and watch as she saunters her way to the crate with an exaggerated sway in her hips. She crouches down in front of you, her shirt riding up and exposing the small of her back. Your eyes drop before you can stop them, admiring the dimple. You look back up only when her head turns to you.

“Pass me the beers.”

You push off the sink, and walk to the crate. You pull out one beer, and place it in her open hand. Again and again. The movement is almost mechanical. Your eyes stay trained on her—the soft curve of her chest from above, and her thighs, all tense from crouching. You breathe sharply through your nose, your grip on the neck of a beer bottle a bit too tight. You want to put your mouth there. Between her legs. You don’t even try to take it back.

After the last bottle, she rises to her feet so slow it’s almost performative. You know you’re staring, but you can’t wrench your eyes away. She stands up tall next to you, fluttering her eyelashes, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Anna Tanaka is a shameless flirt. Has been since she first stepped foot into this small, decrepit place your boss calls a bar. Throughout orientation, her eyes stayed on you. Only you. And she made no effort to hide it, either. She even personally asked for you to train her.

Not that you’d object. One look at her and you’d have said yes to anything.

Both of you stare out to the rest of the place, watching the few patrons already here. Jackasses in office suits, nursing a couple beers that will later evolve into buying tequila shots or whiskey bottles. A lone man at the other end of the bar. Looks like he’s been crying. Not your problem as long as he pays and doesn’t make a scene. There’s one person dancing to some shitty bar music you no longer care to remember the name of.

It’s a wonder you haven’t gone deaf yet with how terrible and loud it is.

“It’s rarely busy on a Wednesday night Tanaka. People who come into bars on a Wednesday are here for two reasons: one,” you lift your index finger. “They fucked up so bad at work, they have to drown their sorrows. And two,” you lift another finger. “Their home life is so shit, they’d rather be anywhere else.”

She looks over to you. “So what does that make us?”

You meet her eyes, holding her gaze far longer than necessary. “We’re the exception. We’re here to make money.” You flash her a toothy grin, one that she reciprocates.

You glance over her shoulder, and you see someone wave for service. You point with your eyes. She scoffs before making her way over, and you watch as she taps her fingers across the counter, the other hand coming up to her hair, shaking it loose.

You gulp unconsciously.

Her forearms press against the hard counter. She’s on her tiptoes, leaning closer to hear his order, and you can’t help yourself. Your eyes travel from her long, toned legs to her ass. Her skirt is so short that it rides up, revealing its curve and the panties underneath.

Black. Lacy.

You grip the counter harder than you intended, standing there for a second, jaw tight, cock already half-hard, reminding yourself that you’re here to work.

Once your breathing is under control, your eyes travel up and meet hers.

She’s smiling that sultry smile that tells you this was all on purpose. Her eyes travel lower to your tight jeans, biting her lower lip before turning her attention back to the customer.

It started with mindless flirting. She’d tell you that you look good, and you’d say that pigtails suit her, like you haven’t been thinking about them all shift or imagining wrapping them around your hands. And it evolved from there. Your hand lightly grazing against her lower back, her pressing up against you to light slaps on her ass and not so light gropes on your balls. You never complained.

A new customer pulls your attention to the edge of the bar.

“Behind.”

You try and squeeze past her except she arches her back and presses her ass against you and the sound that leaves you isn’t professional or controlled or anything close. You feel yourself strain against your jeans.

She doesn’t look back, but you see the way her thighs press together and you know she’s just as affected.

She later joins you in making a drink and she has the audacity to press up against you. Her chest presses against your arm as she reaches for a whiskey glass. You feel the stares from behind, the daggers thrown at you by men who thought they had a chance with her.

You breathe out slowly, head tipping back.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Tanaka—”

“And you’re a willing participant sunbae.” She’s right, but you’re not going to answer her. “Pass me the bottle.”

You grab it without looking, handing it over and ignoring the way her fingers linger on yours for a few seconds. You watch as she pours the content into a shaker, watch as her wrists snap back and forth, and you can’t help but imagine it’s your cock in her hands. And that thought has your pulse thrumming in your ears, and your throat dry.

She leaves your side, moving to serve the customer, and already you miss her scent.

The alarm on your phone rings out. 6PM. You finish serving your customer before you walk behind her, one hand on her waist, mouth grazing against her ear, your breath washing over her. If the customer she just served had anything to say, he didn’t, not when it’s clear she’s enjoying you behind her, her eyes slightly rolling back, a shaky breath escaping.

“6PM. Evening rush.” You gently blow against her ear, your hand tightening on her waist. “Want a shot?”

She turns her head slightly to look at you, eyes travelling down to your lips. For a moment, you see it, the composure slipping. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, her cheeks flushing. Her breath is warm against your mouth, and you push yourself further into her.

“Y—yeah.”

Your free hand reaches down, grabs two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila from under the counter. Your eyes stay on her as she turns her head, watching you pour two shots and making a mess of the counter. The hand on her waist travels up, slowly. Fingertips grazing her exposed midriff, between the valley of her breasts before planting themselves at the base her throat. She swallows hard, and you can’t help the smile on your face. You put the bottle down, take a shot glass, and hold it to her mouth.

“Open up.”

Her head tilts back, resting against your shoulder and you’re hit with her scent, surrounding you. Vanilla and sweat mixing together. Intoxicating and arousing. You harden at her feel and smell, your cock pressing firmly against her ass.

She can’t help the moan escaping her, quiet like a whisper. Only you and the person she just served could hear her.

You tip the shot into her mouth. Watch as her face grimaces at the taste and burn, her throat working it down to her stomach.

“Good girl.”

A drop of tequila lingers on her bottom lip, threatening to make its way down her chin. You place the shot glass down on the counter hard, moving your thumb to swipe at the offending drop.

She watches, eyes half-lidded, as you press your thumb against her lips. They open without resistance, sucking with fervour.

You groan in her ear, loud and obnoxious. If she sucks your thumb like this, you can’t imagine what she’d do with your cock.

A squeaking barstool interrupts your little performance. The customer adjusts himself, the drink already gone.

“Take this,” you push your shot glass of tequila towards him. “On the house.”

You turn to face her again, your lips coming down and pressing on her temple. Your voice is soft yet rough, your arousal seeping through despite your best efforts to cover it. “Let’s finish our shift early.”

She nods enthusiastically. Whines when you step away just as more customers enter the bar.

The next couple hours were hectic.

You go through through the motions. Taking orders, mixing drinks, and the occasional wave to the security guard to kick someone out. There are too many bodies. The room smells like sweat and a concoction of perfume that don’t mix well. You watch people move to the dance floor, grinding all over each other as if they won’t have regrets come tomorrow morning.

The bass from the speakers vibrate throughout the bar, the music muffling the orders from the patrons. The floor and counter is sticky from spilled drinks, and other liquids you don’t want to know about.

And through it all, Anna is the only one that makes working these shifts all worth it.

The two of you work in sync, moving around each other like it’s a practiced dance. Neither of you speak, already knowing what the other needs. Whenever you go high to reach something, she’d go below you, occasionally brushing your cock with her arm. She doesn’t look back at you as you shoot a glare in faux annoyance, stuck standing in that awkward position until you’ve calmed yourself down. 6 months of training, of teasing and being teased—it adds up.

A patron flags you down. “I don’t want you. I want her!”

Your expression turns cold. “I’m sorry sir, she’s busy with a customer right now. You can wait but it could take a while.” You turn to her, watching as she makes eyes to some nervous university student, chin propped up in one hand, the other placing featherlight touches against the back of his hand. You smirk despite yourself, watch as he goes red in the face, stuttering incoherently. She smiles, eyes turning into crescents as if she was genuinely interested. He pulls out his wallet, slaps more bills down onto the counter as a tip.

You chuckle, turning back to the man. “Or you could get a drink now and enjoy the rest of your night.”

He grumbles his order, turning around to look for someone more willing as you move off to make his drink.

It’s simple really. You deal with the sleazy, old men that come to leer at her, some of them don’t even bother removing their wedding rings. And she takes care of the young, and shy interns or students who don’t know what to say to someone as hot as her. You protect her from unwanted advances and she rakes in huge tips.

Simple. Effective.

Eventually, activity at the bar slows down. Besides the men eyeing her up, no one has come up for drinks in the last five minutes.

You lean against the wall, eyes darting from a group of girls making a nuisance of themselves on one of the tables to a man being overly aggressive with the DJ. The place is getting warmer, unbelievably so. Everything feels damp, your hands are clammy from doing nothing, and it feels like you’re breathing in sweat more than anything else.

“Sunbae…” You turn to Anna, pushing through the doors, walking up and joining you against the wall. “You were right. AC is down."

You suck air through your teeth. “Of course it is. What did the boss say?”

She leans against you, head resting on your shoulder. She takes one of your hands, intertwines her fingers through yours.

“Nothing much. Can’t do much about it now he said. Technician’s coming in tomorrow.”

She keeps talking. You don’t hear any of it though, eyes trained on the way her hand melds perfectly with yours, how your thumb instinctively rubs the back of her hand as if you’ve been in a long term relationship.

Your eyes travel up her arms, glistening with sweat, rivulets finding their way down before falling on to the floor. Her crop top sticks to her like a second skin, the top of her breasts shining against the strobe lights. You watch her face, and how matted her hair is, sticking to her forehead, and you think you want to see her like this again. But in bed.

“Seriously?”

You swallow thickly. “W—what?”

She turns, properly facing you now. “Tell me.” One leg moves between yours, a constant, pleasurable pressure on your cock that you can’t help but release a rough moan. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. It must be good if it has you like… this.”

You smirk devilishly. “Are you sure you can handle my fantasies?”

Your hand moves from your side, presses against her navel. Your thumb swipes against the smooth plane before you bring it to your mouth, tasting her.

It’s tart. And addictive all at the same time.

Anna’s eyes grow wide, pupils swallowing the colour of her eyes. Her breathing becomes shallow and the flush on her cheeks from the heat in the air, darkens further in lust.

You lean down until your mouth brushes against her ear. You start whispering just as your hand on her stomach inches its way down.

“I want you so bad. Ever since you first joined. Your constant teasing…” your hand dips underneath the hem of her skirt, “… made it so hard for me. How are you going to repay me?”

“I—I—” She doesn’t finish.

You press down against her pubic bone, and the sound that escapes her is a revelation. Far better than whatever sound your mind concocted. Her eyelids become heavy and her breathing erratic against your face. Her lips are parted, and you stare at them for the longest time, trying your best not to kiss her right there.

Your hand travels lower against her panties. Soaked through. You leave your hand there, rhythmically tapping against her core in time with the beat of the music, and you watch as her composure slowly falls away.

She’s pushing herself onto your hand, grinding against you in such a way that it’s not obvious to those on the other side of the bar. The movement is light and miniscule, bouncing on her tiptoes for more friction.

You laugh in her ear, mocking. “Is that enough?”

Her eyes flutter shut, head falling and resting on your shoulder. Both her hands have a hold on your arm, keeping your hand right where it is.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected by all this. The top of her hair right under your nose, the smell of her shampoo filling your lungs. Her chest touches yours, her erratic breathing pushing her tits into you. The soft mounds a sharp contrast to the stiff peaks of her nipples poking you. What’s affecting you the most though is the wetness coating your hand. It’s soaking through the lace and it’s sticky and the fact you’re the root cause feeds your ego.

“Hey, you two.” Her eyes snap open, body frozen against yours. You both turn towards the voice. Your co-workers come through the door, one on their phone, the other struggling to carry a new crate of beer. “You’re on break. Take—”

You don’t hear the rest.

Anna forcefully pulls your hand out of her skirt, her grip tightening on your wrist so that it’s almost painful. She drags you through the doors, ignoring the puzzled look from the others. She doesn’t stop, not until you’re in the storage closet, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You’re already on your knees as she turns around. Your hands finding her waist, pushing her flat against the door.

You hear the sharp intake of breath, feel her thighs quiver as your breath washes over them. She looks down at you, her eyes screaming, begging you to follow through. You press a kiss on the inside of her thigh, and she’s snapped, her head hitting the door with a heavy thud.

You take things slow. A soft kiss against her knee, a lick up her thigh followed by quiet suction, and eventually, your teeth grazing against her core. You repeat this on both legs. 10. 20 times. You don’t know. But the painful strain in your pants and the way her fingers thread through your hair means she’s done waiting.

“Pl—please sunbae… please…”

Her sentences are incoherent, too lost in the feel of you to properly say what she wants. But you know. And you’re excited to give it to her.

Your hands travel down from her waist, and climbs up underneath her skirt. Her skin feels hot against yours, and you suddenly remember all the times you’ve touched her prior to this moment. Like when she used the shaker for the first time, her small hands encompassed by yours as you taught her your technique. Or when she brushed hair out of your eyes during that one shift, her fingers lingering against your temple longer than necessary.

You’re not stupid. Her signals were obvious. And so were yours. Both of you were bound to fall off the edge at some point.

Your only regret is that you’re going to fuck her in the dirty storage closet of your workplace.

Your hands find what they’re looking for. Her panties. You pull them off slowly, watching as it clings onto her lips before peeling off. You inhale her scent, breathing in deeply. It’s intoxicating and it makes your head dizzy. Your tongue darts out your mouth, one long lick and you can’t wait to taste more.

“Oh… fuck…”

You stay down, tasting every inch of her, focusing especially on her clit, sucking and flicking it with your tongue. Her arousal starts coating your mouth as you keep going despite the ache in your jaw and the lack of oxygen as she clenches her thighs around you.

Soon enough, her legs start to give out, back sliding down the door. Your hands quickly move, throwing one leg over your shoulder before making their way to her ass, holding her up as you continue eating her out.

Her moans are loud, unrestrained. She’s repeating the same word like a chant, slowly devolving into broken noise. They used to be measured, coming out every few seconds or so. Now it’s an endless stream of curses and your name spilling out of her mouth. If it weren’t for the loud music at the bar, you’d surely be caught by now.

You can’t see her, face covered by her skirt but all the signs are there. The way her walls flutter around your tongue as you push in. Her thighs shaking incessantly around your ears, and how her grinding has become more forceful. She’s lost all semblance of control, the dull ache from her grip in your hair turns into searing pain. It’s like she’s forgotten you’re a person; you’re a toy, your sole purpose being to help her reach her high.

“Fuck… fuck…”

You’ll gladly be a toy if it meant seeing her like this again.

You lap at her folds, tasting every inch of her like she’s some delicacy no one’s heard of. The pressure of your tongue is consistent, driving her crazy. It’s enough to keep her on edge, just not enough to push her over it. The hand in her mouth leaves, and the music from the bar is replaced by her.

You move up, tongue darting over her clit with precision, circling it with the tip. Or you press it flat, feel her shake at the constant stimulation. You replace your tongue with your mouth, sucking on her clit gently. Her whimpers grow louder, pitched higher, and she’s arching her back, pressing herself firmly into your mouth.

She goes quiet first, her body frozen. And then she breaks. Her whole body convulsing, thrashing hard enough that you’re losing your grip. Her mouth is open in a scream, and you feel her arousal coat your chin and stain your shirt.

Your mouth returns to her folds, lapping as much as you can while she whimpers, oversensitive. Her grip on your hair loosens, her arms like jelly as she tries to push you away.

You eventually relent, lowering her down to the floor, her leg falling limply from your shoulder. You remove yourself from under her skirt, and already you miss her smell and taste.

It’s the first time you’re actually seeing what you’ve done. She’s folded against the door, her exposed stomach glistening from exertion, chest heaving, an attempt to get as much oxygen into her lungs. Your eyes move to her mouth, lips parted, tongue partially out as she looks at you with glassy eyes. Her hair is matted against her forehead and her cheeks are flushed a deep crimson.

You crawl over her, hand moving behind her neck before you kiss her. It’s messy and languid, her tongue gently caressing yours. She moans against your mouth, tasting herself on you—sweet yet tangy—and she wants more, kissing you with so much fervour, it catches you off guard.

“I—I taste so good…”

Only now you realise this is your first kiss with her. And it’s in the back of the bar, with her cum all over your mouth. You don’t know what you expected your first kiss with her to be like but it certainly wasn’t this.

You move your lips down as she tilts her head up, sucking hard against her skin. She moans, hand coming up and cradling your head against her as you leave a bruise. You swipe your tongue along the column of her throat, all the way up to the shell of her ear as you use your free hand to free yourself from your jeans.

You’re harder than you’ve ever been before, the head is swollen, red, and dripping precum in the small space between you.

You slowly get to your feet, one hand on your cock as you shuffle closer, the jeans around your ankles making it awkward and annoying. And Anna’s staring at it the whole time, her glazed eyes focusing, tongue wetting her lips as she swallows thickly.

Her head is still pressed against the door as you press the head of your cock against her lips, coating them with your precum. She opens without resistance, letting you push all the way until you’re at the back of her throat. She gags around your length before closing her lips around it, tongue flicking underneath the head. You rest a hand against the door, the other pulling her hair into a ponytail as you start slowly thrusting into her mouth.

The haze of her orgasm has made her pliant, more willing to your advances. If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t consider fucking their face like you are with her. She just brings that side of you out.

“Fuck… your mouth feels so good.”

You hear a muffled mewl at your praise, and she starts working harder, timing her head bob with your thrusts. She pays extra attention to your tip, circling her tongue around it and flicking at the slit. You watch the way her lips cling to your cock as you pull out, at the spit escaping from the corners of mouth, dripping slowly down her chin.

Her arms that were limp at her side, suddenly gain strength, and slowly makes their way from her toned, sweaty midriff to her crop top. She pulls on the neckline, releasing her breasts from their confines just as the spit falls, landing in the valley between. She pushes her tits together, coating them in spit, twisting and pulling at her nipples. She moans, and the vibrations along your length almost sent you over the edge.

You grab her head with both hands, forcing yourself further down her throat. She’s gagging at the intrusion, cloudy eyes that were staring up at you now squeezed shut with tears threatening to fall. Your pace turns brutal, the slap of your balls against her chin drowns her gagging and the patrons outside. Occasionally, her head bangs against the door. She doesn’t complain though, hands moving to your ass, pushing you further in until her face is flush against your stomach. You keep her there, amazed at how well she’s doing. How she swallows around you, massaging you, and how, despite your attempts to pull away, she traps you there, refusing to let you leave despite her tears mixing with her mascara down her cheeks.

You breathe heavily through your nose, the grip on her head loosening, replaced by gentle pats on her head. “Good girl.”

She swallows around you, tries to push you in deeper. As if your praise was the encouragement she needed to deepthroat you further. But eventually, she had to let you leave.

Your cock is slick with a mixture of her saliva and your precum. You look over at her, chest heaving, coughing every few seconds. You don’t give her much rest though, already pushing back in, slower, gentler. You’re not chasing the high, only the feel of her wet mouth around you.

The suction, the vibration of her moans all becomes too much. Your hips stutter, the rhythm of your thrusts breaking.

You pull out immediately, catching your breath, your hand resting on the door, keeping you up.

“W—why did you stop?” She looks up at you with wide eyes, the flush on her cheeks spreading down her neck to the top of her breasts. She tries reaching for your cock again, mouth almost over it before you press two fingers against her forehead, stopping her in her tracks.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you reach your hand out to her, and you see how quick the decision was made in her eyes. She takes it without hesitation, allowing herself to be pulled up by you. Her hand is small in yours, dainty too. Like she doesn’t belong in a place like this, making drinks and relying on tips to get through the months.

Her feet are still unsteady as she stands, her hand reaching out and landing on your chest as she steadies herself. Your free hand instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her flush to you.

You stare at her for the longest time, memorising her features. The tiny freckles along her nose, her deep, dark eyes that you could get lost in if you let yourself. She’s staring at you like she belongs to you, waiting for you to do something, and it tightens something in your chest. Your eyes start mapping her face and you see what you’ve done to her. The mascara streaks down her cheeks, the smudged lipstick across her parted lips. She’s still panting, her breath washing over you.

You let go of her hand, placing it where your heart is. You caress her cheeks, wiping at the mascara before doing the same at her lips. You watch in silent surprise at the way her mouth automatically opens wider as your thumb brushes against it before entering. Her lips, red and swollen, wraps around it, sucking on it gently. Her cheeks hollow as she stares into your eyes with a sultry look.

You’re breathless, eyes dilating at the scene, your cock hardening too, especially when her free hand reaches down, stroking you against her stomach, twisting at the head.

You close your eyes, your forehead finding hers as you let her continue sucking your thumb and stroking your cock. The sensation is wonderful. Her soft, lithe hand feels exquisite on you, the way she squeezes at the head or rapidly jerks you off at the base and it reminds you of when she uses the shaker.

“Anna…”

You slowly open your eyes, removing your thumb from her mouth. You place both your hands on her cheeks before closing the distance.

The kiss is different. It’s not an act of passion or an in the moment kiss. It’s one that highlights how much she’s liked you in the time you’ve known each other. All the emotions poured into it as if words aren’t enough to tell you everything.

You just hope you were able to show how much you care for her through yours.

You begin to move, stepping out of your jeans, hands still on her face, and your lips still attached as you drag her further into the closet until her back is pressed against the shelves. A groan escapes her as her back softly slams against it before she finds your mouth again. The spare pint glasses on the shelves start shaking as you push her further into it.

You both separate, foreheads touching as you both breath heavily in the space between. Both your eyes fall to your cock, twitching against her folds, leaking precum, and the pair of you moan at the sight. You hold it by the base, sliding it along her folds, and she pants against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, biting you gently to muffle the sounds spilling from her mouth.

“S—sunbae…”

You don’t wait any longer. You continue rubbing yourself on her as your other hand finds the back of one of her thighs. You lift it high. Until her foot is beside your head, and her leg is sandwiched between your bodies.

“F—fuck…”

You push inside, groaning at the overwhelming heat and tightness. Her orgasm has left her wet and dripping, making it easier to slide in further. Anna exhales shakily against your mouth, her breathing uneven. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging deeper the further in you go. When you finally bottom out, your pelvis pressed flush against hers, do you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you watch as her eyes flutter close, head falling backwards, knocking a few tumblers down.

You stay like this, enjoying the feel around you, the way her walls flutter along your length. You look down at where you join, and her name comes out your mouth subconsciously.

“Anna… look.”

And she does. Watches as you start grinding. She’s moaning softly, and her eyes start dilating. The hands on your shoulders move down to your chest, weakly pushing at you. “Move.”

You start slowly, pulling all the way until your tip before slamming all the way in. Your thrusts are heavy and hard. She takes your whole length with every stroke, and every time you bottom out, a whimper spills from her mouth, broken and desperate. Her back arches against the shelves, and the way she clenches around you as you pull out—like she’s trying to stop you from leaving—is overwhelming.

“Y—you’re so deep…”

Her eyes roll back at a particular hard thrust, jostling her against the shelves. More glasses tip over but you don’t care anymore. Your entire focus is on her.

You fuck her faster, harder. Her walls start fluttering around you with no rhythm, trying to milk you. She breathlessly repeats your name, eyes closing in pleasure, hands grabbing the uprights. The slap of skin on skin, and your panting, drowns everything out, even your ringing phone.

You see everything. The way she bites her lip in a futile attempt to stay quiet, her tits bouncing with every hard thrust. You look down, and you can see where you connect, how she has a tight grip on you, how she stretches around your girth. Every time you pull back, more of her arousal escapes, running down the one leg she’s standing on.

“Shit… don’t stop—please…”

The leg on your shoulder starts shaking violently. Your hand moves, gently grabbing the ankle, thumb soothingly caressing it while you plant soft kisses against her calf. The smooth skin feels wonderful against your lips, and you imagine how great it would be to have them tangled with yours in bed.

“M—more…”

Your other hand grabs her breast, kneading the flesh, her nipple poking through your fingers. You hold on as your pace increases, your hips snapping against hers. You’re breathing heavily, eyes travelling to her face where her eyes are closed, tears spilling.

Her walls clench around you erratically, her moans growing louder, becoming more high pitched, more desperate. “I—I’m gonna c—cum…” Your thumb and index fingers find her nipple. You pinch and pull and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm hits her hard, back arching high, a scream tearing from her throat. It’s so loud, you had to cover her mouth. Her pussy strangles your cock, gushing around you, and you feel wetness on your thighs.

You keep your pace steady, ignoring her oversensitive gasps. Her hand claw at your shoulder, and she tries to remove her leg. You hug her leg, keeping it on your shoulder as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm, her tears flowing freely now.

Her flushed cheeks, parted mouth, and her glazed over eyes. She’s so distractingly beautiful like this that you temporarily lose your rhythm.

You feel your balls tighten, pleasure coiling at your spine, and the fact that she whispers your name—all broken, desperate, and rough—sends you over the edge.

You slam into her one final time, burying yourself deep. And you cum. The orgasm is blinding, your vision blurring as the pleasure rips through you and you empty yourself inside her, filling her with rope after rope of cum. She moans brokenly as she milks you for everything you have and more.

For a few seconds, nothing exists except the two of you. Your heavy breathing mingles in the space between you. Her slick skin presses against you, and you wish you could stay like this forever. But reality comes back—Anna’s chest moving up and down quickly, the mess between her legs, and your legs start shaking too.

You pull out slowly, and she whimpers at your loss. You slowly lower her leg onto the floor, catching her as she falls forward. You gently bring her down to a sitting position, back against the shelves as you take a seat opposite. Your cum starts leaking out of her, mixing with her arousal, staining the floor underneath.

She starts laughing breathlessly, her foot tapping against your thigh as she looks at you with what can only be described as adoration in her eyes. “My legs are numb.”

You chuckle under your breath. “Sorry. Guess I got a bit carried away.”

Her hand moves to her hair, ruffling it slightly before it makes its way between her legs, scooping up your cum with two fingers. You watch as she plays with it. “Don’t be. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” She puts her fingers in her mouth, cleaning them before pulling it out with a loud pop, showing you the evidence.

“You’re going to be the death of me Tanaka.”

She moves, crawling towards you with an exaggerated sway of her hips and a predatory grin on her lips. She settles on your lap, fingers gently grazing your cock back to full mast. She leans toward you, until her lips are inches from yours.

If you didn't want to upset her, you'd say how much you envy the staff surrounding her for most of the day. They get to be with her longer than a lustful night, attending to her hair, face, and lips. They have the blessing to see her behind the scenes, and not merely on a digital screen, from which she seems so close, but so far away. 

How do you, with your role as her shadow, stray apart from her?

Yeah, that’s right: you're kind of her shadow. No, scratch that—you are her shadow, from head to toe. Usually, with other celebrities of esteemed status like Gawon's, it's the girl who gets coined as male celebrity's tail slash girlfriend. Male wrestler's fuckbuddy. Male idol's rumored fling. Male actor’s femme fatale lead. But with Gawon, the media holds a different kind of respect. If you look past the camera flashes and headlines, you’re almost certain it’s fear. She made sure to instill that through her years in the spotlight.

The press tried to invent Lee Gawon. But she made clear she wasn’t just Chloe Lee the dancer or the lookalike of a boy group member she now overshadows. Gawon is her own person—she's the ambassador, model, actress, founder, and so much more. Any name attached to her is lucky to even be within her proximity.  

Perhaps that is why the press, both local and international, only know you as miss Lee’s boyfriend. You’re her accessory, could be a bracelet with how you hang on her forearm at events. You’re her bodyguard, looming over her when you gather her stuff from her Porsche. Hell, with the way she’s got you wrapped around her finger, you’re her pet. 

It's safe to say that you might like it that way, as humiliating as it sounds. 

That's how you felt when she asked you to call her "Mistress."

You | 9:41 PM, SAT | Gawon

You | 9:41 PM, SAT | where are you

Mistress | 9:43 PM, SAT | Nearly there, babe.

Mistress | 9:49 PM, SAT | I'm here :) 

You practically rush to the door. Your hands trembling, you open the door of the mansion you share with her, and there stands Gawon. 

She's wrapped up in the most expensive furs, dressed from head to toe in the newest line she's representing. Her ruby red lips are painted with Prada lipstick, enough to match the color of blood.

"Mistress." You bow. Fur meets your rough skin as you help Gawon out of the coat. You're always there to help her out. You're hers, aren't you? That's your job.

"Sweetheart," Gawon says back, smiling. She eases herself out of the furs and kisses you on your mouth. "How have you been?"

You can't say anything understandable if she's holding your chin like that, or when her shadowed eyes are coaxing you into a battle of wills. "G-good," you stammer out, nevertheless.

"Just good?" 

"I missed you all day, Mistress. When you came home, it all became perfect."

Gawon nods understandingly. "I thought so," she remarks, with a soft nuzzle of your nose. 

All that's left on Gawon's tall, slender body is her black suit and blazer. The tie looks especially attractive on her, but you have a feeling that it doesn't solely belong to her neckline—it has other unfulfilled purposes. Other plans dreamed up by Gawon in that gorgeous head.

You're correct, for one of those signs is her heels remaining on her feet. Gawon takes good care of her shoes. They’re polished by well-paid maids and kept safely in her closet. So if she keeps them on during the night, it means something. They’re the prophecy foretelling your fate for the night.

"Did you see my pictures, baby boy?" asks Gawon expectantly. She's walking down the carpet to the living room, where soft cushions are prepared for her to rest her busy frame on. 

Seen them? You savored them. Consumed them as a wolf would a lone rabbit. Held onto them like a lifeline, like you were on the edge of a cliff.

As her boyfriend, you got to have a sneak peek of her new covers and pictorials, and the most recent one she came home from is your favorite yet. Probably the best, if you really think about it.

It's the colors differing perfectly together that seal it for you. The red background matches her lips, posed in serious, plump lines before a lipstick curled in her hands. However, there's the ebony darkness of her hair and makeup to take notice of, and the untainted white of her suit. They're all strong colors, portrayed steadily by one of the most learned models in the industry. You're proud of how she posed for it; the result looks beautiful. She is beautiful.

"I… I loved them, Mistress," you admit. Your cheeks fill with colored adoration. "I looked at them all day."

"Thank you. I brought home the lipstick they got me, and I want to try it with you."

"M-Mistress?" 

Gawon chuckles prettily. When she smiles, the intimidating aura of her face dissolves into a fox-like adorableness. Her eyes crinkle and her brows, usually dark and strong, knit together in laughter. She could be adorable, honestly. But of course the departure of the sweet moment is hastened, with only a tiny smile remaining post mortem. 

"Not in that way," she clarifies. "Just… trust me on this, please?"

You're hesitant. What would she do with you? What if you don't like it?

"If you don't want to try it, we won't," says Gawon softly. 

"I want to do it," you say all too quickly. Because there isn’t a thing you won’t do for her. Not one.

"Thank you. Bedroom?"

"Yes, Mistress."

The paced clicks of Gawon's white heels follow you from behind. She strolls through the mansion as if its luxuries hold no extraordinariness that sets it apart from a flea market rag doll. Then you remember: that's Gawon’s reality. The tiger skin carpet and chandeliers are things she's worked hard for and lived with for years only barely longer than the ones she spent climbing up to her status now. She comes from old money but now it overflows in several accounts. She was born rich and will die rich.

Speaking of, climbing all the way upstairs in heels seems tedious. There's a reason why your special bedroom is on the first floor.

There's also a reason why the bedroom is this wide, and has a closet of that size. And it doesn't store just clothes.

"Lie down, honey," coos Gawon. "And take off your clothes."

You obey, and she immediately undoes the knot of her white tie. You shiver, although you've become acquaintances with the centralized wind of your home and Gawon's. Her tie slithers around your joined wrists. It traps them behind one of the decorative bars of the headboard. You don't bother struggling; you know your place well enough to understand it's below her.

"You're okay with your feet being tied, too, I presume?" 

She's done it millions of times: holding your arms and legs back until they're numb under her control, using them to keep you still. But still, Gawon wants to know if you're comfortable. 

"Y-yes, Mistress," you reply.

Gawon smiles appreciatively. The blazer slips off her arms, leaving her in a formal tube top with transparent straps. She cares not for the price of the designer blazer, especially not when she's tying their sleeves around your feet to the footboard. Sometimes her resourcefulness is way off the charts. 

"What are you gonna do to me?" you ask. There's a perfect blend of fear and excitement in your trembling voice. You can see the way it turns Gawon on; she bites her lower lip as if she craved to draw blood as red as her lipstick from it.

Gawon lowers herself beside your ear, her words leaving your hands and spine chilled:

"Remind you who you belong to." 

"Mistress—"

"Shhh." 

The young woman leaves kisses along your naked thighs. There's a trail of red shaped to the form of her heart-resembling lips. It marks the path of her love. 

It makes you shake in anticipation, and she's only building up more of the suspense. As if rehearsed, perfected days prior to this, she parts your legs a little. 

"Such a pretty cock," she says. "It's all mine, no?"

Hard to confirm when she's kissing its underside, but you do it anyway. Whatever circumstance a situation throws at you, you fight it to answer Gawon.

Her pink tongue caresses your sensitive dick. She licks and laps and sucks, and she's not even sucking it yet. It makes you feel weak, but you always are with her. It's nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary, but it still makes your heart burn with lust.

Gawon licks a sharp stripe under your cock, making your breath catch on nothing. Her lipstick decorates your tip as she suckles on it. She remains determined to caress what's beneath your cockhead with gentle laps. 

"So delicious," she murmurs. "Think I want to ride it, baby boy. But I think your cute face will do first."

"Yes please, Mistress."

"Say that you're mine first."

"I'm yours." It's nothing short of the truth. 

Gawon brings out her lipstick. You gasp when the glossy tip glides along your thighs in measured lines. So that's what she was talking about.

You look down. She's written "Mistress' Baby Boy" on your skin. And she's only getting started.

"Say it again," she orders. Her breath is hot; she’s getting off on this as much as you are. There’s a reason she started this gamble. 

"I'm yours, Mistress."

There she goes again, writing on your body another varied form of possession. Soon, she's decorated your legs with several of them: prettiest boy; Mistress' only; most perfect cock. You appreciate the flattery nevertheless.

"Good.” She's done with writing on you. For now. 

Her dress pants slip down her milky legs. You watch with morbid fascination. Watch how the silk drags down paleness that almost matches its color. See how the bareness of her full thighs release themselves from her panties, and close around your head as she sits on your face.

You know what to do, and you know exactly how Gawon likes it. You lift your chin higher to lick at her core, but not quite letting your tongue enter her. She moans instantly, her weight breaking down harder on your face. You're glad to be burdened by it. It's more of a blessing, really, when you consider how much she's dripping, as if she were waiting for this all day.

Maybe she was.

You tease her silken hole and slide the tip of your tongue up her slit until it tickles her clit. Gawon squirms down on you in response. The hold of her thighs around your head becomes stronger, and you take that as an obvious sign that you should obviously go on. Maybe even take it up a notch, which is why you go through with sucking on her bundle of nerves rather than merely considering it.

It's one of Gawon's few weak spots, speaking in both sexual and industrial terms. But of course, you know all about it. How could you not when she pushes her core onto your face harder?

"Oh fuck, baby boy," she moans. "You're so good to me."

When she tastes like heaven, you're bound to be. Her beautiful taste pours into your mouth and has you licking inside her grasping hole for more. There, you lap your tongue against her textured walls to find some of her weak spots. Press against it when you successfully find one, causing Gawon to suffocate you with her creamy thighs and stealing your breath with how she weighs her pussy down on you.

If this is how you die, it's completely fine by you. Having Gawon's glorious ass sitting on your face and her delicious cunt grabbing your tongue for it to stay are all you need to go out happy. Savor it all. Caress her clit with your tongue right before capturing it between your lips and assaulting it with violent suction. Let saliva and juices drip down on you with no care in the world—this, this right here is heaven. Only difference between your mistress and the heaven in the clouds is that here, the pleasure matches one you could go to hell for.

Gawon dizzies you with her swaying hips. "Fuck, baby," she says loudly. Playing with her tits below the white tube top, she gyrates her core on your mouth harder. "I'm so so close, baby boy."

Her folds parted to welcome your eager tongue. They close the entrance to imprison you. It's a trap that you enjoy being tricked into as you draw several forms inside and on her sensitive nub. 

In a way, you've trapped Gawon, too. For once, the tables are turned around and you have her under your control although you're underneath her. Your mouth is a dangerous predicament, and you still knowingly assault her with it. 

Just look at the way she gazes down upon you, with shadowed, hooded eyes, and hear the way she whispers, "Please, baby, that's it—keep fucking my pussy like that, Mistress is so close, she's going to cum all over your pretty little face—"

It only takes one-after-the-other suckling on her clit for Gawon to bite what she barks. Juices no longer drip only into your mouth, but everywhere. Unladylike screams fill the room as she squirts her delicious juices on your face. The pillow suffers some of the damage, but it's your neck and chin that's fully attacked. You have to close your eyes just in case her cum wanders too far.

Nevertheless, you don't stop tonguefucking her. 

"Yes, yes, that's it," Gawon gasps. Her little broken stammers are everything to live for. "Keep doing that, yes… oh shit, you're so good at this—

"Shit, fuck, too much!"

Usually, you'd stop at the time she says that, but there's too many pros to continue. If you just kept sucking at her perfect pussy, you'd garner more of her cum, plus the possibility of her thighs actually crushing your head. So, albeit her cries, you continue.

"Oh god, fuck." Gawon throws her head back. "Alright, I'll let you have this one, baby boy. But if you do, I won't, fuck, get to ride your pretty cock."

That's an insanely clever way to get you to stop. If there's anything you craved more than her juices in your mouth, it's them on your cock instead.

Gawon giggles in satisfaction. She's sliding off your face, graceful even after getting eaten out. She's graceful anyway even in the most odd situations. It's her brand, to be brief: being the closest thing to a goddess arriving in the mortal world, being the democratic Aphrodite. She still carries it in the bedroom.

Her throne is the little space between your thighs and your cock, which allows her to be so close to engulfing you in herself, but not quite. The smile on her face tells you that yes, she does indeed know how it works, which just so happens to leave you both breathless and in awe of the woman in front of you.

"How should I deal with you, sweetheart?" Gawon asks. She wraps her fingers around your rod and jerks it up and down. 

"Please, mistress…" You try to say more, but you end up silent.

"Yes? Oh, I see. You want me to fuck your big cock with my thighs, huh?" 

As if to demonstrate, Gawon presses her beautiful legs around your dick. Her white, soft flesh stimulates you and has you thrusting up into them. The slick from her earlier orgasm helps your pumps smoothen, and coats your shaft with more than just your own precum.

"Yes, mistress," you say. 

Gawon smiles and tightens the hold of her thighs together. She pushes you down on the bed, telling you that this is a job she'll lead by herself, as she does everything, and bounces on your lap. Her perfect ass ripples as she does, and you can feel her slick folds tease your sensitive flesh. If you're not mistaken, that's her clit grinding on your erection while she fucks you with her thighs, too.

"Gawon, fuck."

"You're forgetting who I am here, sweetheart." She says it gently, but her eyes tell a different story. They tell you of a warning. "What do you call me again?"

That slip-up was on you. You were too wrapped in the embrace of her heat along that you dropped the honorifics. "Mistress, I'm sorry."

"Good. I knew you could do it." Gawon kisses you. "I think my baby boy deserves to fill his mistress up now. Make her cum around his big cock.”

No more abstinence. No more holding back. Those are habits whose deaths took a lot of time, but hey, here you are now. You yield to the temptation. You forget about your dignity, your shame, your life. You pour out every dirty little thing you have thought of doing to Gawon while you stared at her pictures, and she takes it gladly. 

Your cock is lodged in her cunt immediately. You could almost scream. She’s completely tense around your girth but oh-so-wet. And oh-so-fucking-tight. Gawon is the definition of sex itself—it's in the way she does everything: the bounce of her thunderous thighs as her legs weaken from the stretch, her quivering yet sinful moan, her hard nipples. Her toned, creamy thighs locking you in for the ride is just a bonus.

You take the labor to pull yourself up and kiss her all around her beautiful face, worshipping her as you would a deity (oh yes, Gawon counts as a deity, with all that shiny long hair, strong brows, and sculpted nose. The only thing anchoring her to this mortal realm is you.) Her sweet lips are addictive, but a close competitor is her collarbone. It’s sharp and deep, looking like it can cut through your mouth if you dared kiss it. That’s a risk you’re willing to take. You can lick and nibble at that and her neck all day. But even feeling it with your thumb feels forbidden—even in sex, in the dark of the night, she holds an aura that prohibits anyone from touching her, and if anyone gets a chance to, they're extremely lucky.

She reminds you of how lucky you are everyday. Not everyone gets to fuck the Lee Gawon.

You live for the sounds she makes as you suck without boundary on her breasts. Your tongue laces her neck and jaw with slick saliva, one of the steps in your desperate plan to get approval from her. Her appreciative moan, although hot, still lacks for you. So, you draw your hips far backwards and drive them deeper. Gawon gasps in surprise, her clit swollen and pulsing against you. 

You can feel her breaths grow shorter, rougher, and you go on with licking and sucking, multitasking with how you're still steadily thrusting into her beautiful cunt. God, she really does need to remind you of your place. You forget yourself when she fucks you like this. She makes you want more.

"S-so down bad for me, huh?" Gawon laughs. The sharp protrusion of her wrist bumps into your temple as she strokes your hair. She does it gracefully, adoringly, as if she were holding a pet. It’s damn close. "Fuck my pussy like that, show me no other boy can fuck me like you can."

She moans at your cock twitching inside her. There’s a glint of amusement in her brown eyes. "Oh, you like that? Being talked to like you're my fucking slave? Is that what you want?"

Your cheeks are red. She's figured you out. She always does. It's her habit to pick you apart and put your pieces together in a picture you never knew you could form.

She starts to move her curved hips in between gasps of gratification. Her hard nipples press against your chest. You groan beneath her and she clings to you harder, rocking your member inside her cunt desperately. The hard shape of her abs shows how much she’s working for it. They’re flexed and drenched in sweat.

“Mistress,” you whisper into her hair. Pepper the white land of her neck with swift kisses, withholding the urge to bite down on it because you remember your place now. You remember what this is for. “You’re so fucking wet.”

The two of you grind and moan against each other, desperate body upon another desperate body. Her strokes rhythmically slam you against the mattress. You would have groaned painfully if her lips weren’t on top of yours. As soon as they mush against them, she devours you. And it feels literal; her teeth sink into your lower tier while her tongue actively laps at your mouth, as if she were trying to collect your complete taste without leaving a drop behind. She’s eating you alive. Each moan mixed with her heavy pants of pleasure gets lost in the eclipse of your lips.You’re starting to get breathless, but you’re not passing up the opportunity to stay inside Gawon, or to hear her beautiful sounds extracted from her pretty mouth and caused by the steady thrusts.

You can feel her pussy shiver around you. She’s so close. You don’t dare fight the restriction on your wrists but it’s in this moment that you desperately wish you could touch her. Your mouth can only do so much. Leaving hickeys all over her skin can’t possibly match the feeling of squeezing her ass, pulling her closer, or holding her miniscule waist.

But you’re hers—you’ll trade your pleasure for Gawon’s even if it’s killing you.

You let her ride you for a few more, desperate moments until she collapses. Her cunt pulses through each heavy wave of her orgasm. She moans loud next to your ear when you chase your own high. The sticky mess of your orgasms stains the expensive threadcount. 

But soon, Gawon’s French tip nails stop digging into your back painfully. Your wrists are free from their fabric prison. Your mistress is finally spent. She rests her cheek on the flat of your shoulder and sighs in satisfaction.