Elissa Moorehead starred in hot teen sex movies years ago, but now she needs a mature but sexy role to stay relevant. She invites a talented author of “trashy books” to her home in the hope he can help her write the perfect script for her come-back. However, she doesn’t count on his pride, or his forcefulness.

---

Ben’s first introduction to Elissa Moorehead was similar to thousands of other young men in that he had his dick in his hand at the time and was pumping furiously. He vividly remembered that scene in the movie so long ago – a teen sex flick that was making its first appearance on late-night cable. The female star – a fresh-faced, red-haired beauty, had just taken her clothes off and was having a shower, her character unaware that she was being ogled by two college seniors who were watching her from the next room through an air vent. How many times had Ben orgasmed to that scene? He’d lost count. It was a long time ago. But despite the years, the image of her naked, washing her long beautiful hair was still as fresh in his mind as it had been in his parent’s basement that fateful night.

And now he was parked in front of her home. At least it was the address he’d been given. She was the last person he ever expected to contact him and she was living in the last place he ever expected her to be – in the country less than an hour from his own home. 

Elissa’s shower scene had sparked a surprisingly distinguished twenty-year acting career for her. While she may not have been a household name, fans of film certainly knew her quite well. Like many of her kind, her marriages had been to equally accomplished men.

The first was to a well-known actor, the second a successful movie producer, and the third to an athlete more than a decade her junior. Then suddenly, to the public at least, she disappeared.

No more movies, television, or award shows. It was like she ceased to exist.

Ben assumed she had run into the professional brick wall that so many actresses face once they reach a certain age. Still, with her kind of pedigree – she was set for life. Of course, this was far from Beverly Hills, but it was still a place that smelled of money. 

He contrasted this with his own life. He had a modest house and earned a modest living – mostly through writing. With his earlier academic life in tatters, Ben decided to use his talents in a unique way. His greatest skill was being able to read complex articles, and rewrite them in plain, clear language, bearing no resemblance to the original article, but making him sound even more like a man who knew the topic than the original author. 

He was a freelance writer for several prestigious trade publications, none of which ran his byline. No one outside the editors of each publication knew who he was, so he was able to pass as an expert on everything from electronics to the aviation industry. He wrote quickly and prodigiously, turning down opportunities for prestigious opinion columns and TV shows to protect his anonymity.

But it was his erotic writing that had caught Ms. Morehead’s attention. Ben had been writing erotic fiction for the past two years. They were all electronic – meant for e-readers and phones. To make decent money out of it he had to write a lot, which he did. It allowed him to unload and unburden his creative mind. He had also mused that it might take him some interesting places someday. And voila here he was. 

Elissa Moorehead had contacted him through his publisher. There was no other way to find him since he used a pen name. He was surprised to hear she lived nearby and wanted to talk to him about a film deal for one of his books or something. He was curious, and a little suspicious but nothing more. He told himself he had too much sense and too many years under his belt to be starstruck.

He looked at the time as he got out of his car. It was 10 am. It was early summer and his nose filled with the smell of flowers and grass. It was already getting humid. He was wearing khaki pants, a linen shirt, and a light blue linen jacket. He had no idea if he was overdressed or under.

As he traversed the walk up to the big old house, he noticed the picket fence off to the west side. That must have been the entrance to the backyard. He wondered why they’d even need a fence considering there were no other houses within sight. This was a perfect place to get away from it all, he mused.

A figure caught his attention near the fence and waved at him. It looked like an explosion of ivory and red. He realized immediately this must be Elissa. 

The years had been good to her, at least in Ben’s eyes. She was in a tight red bikini that showed off a somewhat more ample figure than he remembered from the decade’s old shower scene. But she was one of those women to whom a bit of extra weight had made her look even more feminine. She reminded him of a piece of fruit hitting the pinnacle of ripeness. 

“Ms. Moorehead I’m Ben Irons,” he said, carefully calling himself by his pen name. 

“Elissa if you please, Ben,” She replied.” Let’s relax by the pool, I made a pitcher of Martinis for us.”

Martinis in the morning? Oh well, Ben thought. When in Rome I guess. She walked with him down the path that led to the pool and patio. 

“It’s already rather hot Ben. You’ll want to take off that lovely jacket. You know so few men wear linen nowadays. There’s no desire to look smart anymore. If they’re not wearing their business suit, it’s just a torn t-shirt and some shorts.”

Ben deliberately slowed his pace so that Elissa walked in front of him and he could get a good look at her now middle-aged ass. Like the rest of her body, it had filled out nicely to his eyes. No, you couldn’t bounce a dime off it like in the old days, but in terms of bouncing his thighs off those cheeks, they’d never be better. 

“Thank you again for coming out today, the staff has their day off, and my husband is on a business trip to Germany. I’ve been dying to work on a new project and now it’s quiet and I have the time.”

Elissa motioned for Ben to take a seat at the expensive-looking patio table under a big umbrella, with lush potted greenery around him The pool gleamed in the sunlight. 

“This place reminds me of the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel,” said Ben.

“You surprise me, Mr. Irons. That was EXACTLY the look I was going for. I never expected anyone in this part of the world to recognize it.”

Ben had been in Hollywood back in the early days of his University Career after a short story he had written got the attention of a movie agent. In the end, that meeting came to nothing. It was one of the reasons he had no expectations for this meeting either.

But the mention of the Polo Lounge had its effect as an ice breaker. Elissa immediately started telling him about her life story, the movies she’d made, the important people she’d known, the people she still knew, and of course her marriages. The story of the trophy wife and all the trophy husbands. There was no new information here. She spoke about things any fan would automatically know about her. 

“Of course, I reached that point in my career where female actors either get forgotten or are given ridiculous comic roles that exaggerate their age. One small-time producer thought I’d be so hard up he offered me the role of a slutty mother in a teen comedy. He thought I’d actually do full frontal nudity for him!”

As her eyes adjusted to the shade she took off her sunglasses and shook her head in disgust. 

Ben raised his glass and said, “Well it wouldn’t be the first time for you.”

Her eyes and smile lit up. “Oh you mean my starring turn when I was 20?”

For a moment she caught herself being a bit too eager, pretended to blush, and looked away. “Of course, I had the assets for it then. We’re not too far off in age I suspect. I can’t tell you how many men our age approach me and tell me they –. Well..”

“Jerked off to your shower scene?”

Her smile faded for a moment and her eyes narrowed. She sized up the comment as sincere and non-judgemental and her face softened again.

“Yes. I wouldn’t have put it like that, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you did. After all with the type of writing you do, you’re comfortable with such words.”

Ben thought about pressing her a bit more but decided to switch topics.

“So what brings you to this part of the world. Despite what your backyard may suggest, this is a long way from Hollywood.”

Her story continued. She talked about being robbed of parts, humiliated by agents, and then the decision to take a long trip to Europe

“And that’s where I met Robert Sheldrake and we fell in love. As you may know, he lives here.”

She didn’t have to tell Ben who Sheldrake was. Ben knew. Sheldrakes’ family had published the city newspaper and owned one of the television stations for generations, back when both were incredibly profitable. Sheldrake’s old money was becoming undone by technology, but it would likely take generations until it fully ran out. 

Sheldrake was still an incredibly powerful man, powerful enough to ruin Ben’s life if he wanted to. Ben knew all about that. He had been a rising young English professor at the University until he started tutoring the rich. There was that 50-something woman who claimed she was the daughter of an Austrian Count. Her husband ran a large corporation that built key parts for weapons systems. He’d been hired to help her with her poetry. It was terrible. After a few sessions, Ben began to get the impression she was more interested in him than improving her writing. Eventually, she made a pass at him, which Ben charmingly deflected like a gentleman. After all, he didn’t want to get involved and get his fingers burnt. 

In the end, it didn’t matter. The European lady had been offended at being rebuffed and wrote a long letter to the University. It didn’t’ matter that what she said was untrue. Her husband was the school’s biggest donor so Ben was out and told, unofficially by a grateful and contrite boss who understood the situation, that there would be no use in trying to find a teaching position anywhere else. He had been blackballed and no institution would hire him.

That was the problem with certain women. You were burned if you said yes, and burned if you said no. It was all about power and if you were on the bottom you were going to get it regardless.

But psychologically Ben was very far from a bottom. He felt subservient to no one. He had designed his life so that there was nothing to lose. It’s hard to lose a reputation if no one really knows who you are after all. He had no need to show off. He was quietly confident in all of his skills and most of all in who he was.

Ben took another sip of his Martini and noticed that Elissa had stopped talking. As he looked up into her face, he saw a different person. Her actress character has slipped. Either that or she was deliberately showing her vulnerability. 

“To be completely honest with you, I’m quite bored. Aside from my husband I don’t really know anyone. We go out from time to time to charity events or the tennis club, but I can’t relate to the people here. I spend my days by the pool reading trashy books and wishing I could act again. 

“Trashy books like mine?” Ben countered. 

“Oh please don’t take that the wrong way,” Said Elissa. “I read all sorts of things.”

She was holding the right arm of her sunglasses to her mouth in both a provocative and questioning way. Ben held her gaze for a moment and she looked away before composing herself and reconnecting with his gaze.

“So,” she said. “That brings us to you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

“All you really need to know about me are what’s in my stories,” he replied provocatively. “What do you think now that you’ve met me?”

That took Elissa off guard. Normally that was a question people would ask of HER and not the other way around. She responded by pretending she hadn’t heard the question.

“Oh excuse me, I cut some flowers earlier. I was just about to arrange them when you showed up.”

As she got up from her chair, Ben took another look at her figure, capturing the slight jiggle in her breasts. Her once athletic curves were certainly softer, but somehow that made her even more enticing. As she turned away from him, he saw that part of her swimsuit was riding up between her cheeks. Cheeks that had, in the past, no doubt gotten workouts from handsome leading men and creative geniuses and ruthless millionaires. 

But now, those cheeks, perhaps at their most ripe and delicious were his to enjoy. At least to look at. As she bent over to pick up the flowers he felt himself almost instantly get hard.

“Do I look the way you expected?” she asked, her back still to him. There were so many answers he could blurt out, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. 

“I asked my question first,” said Ben. 

She turned around again to face him as she began sliding the flowers into the vase. 

“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure. Of course, I imagine your male characters are largely based on you, but you never describe them physically. Sometimes I picture a chiseled hunk, but I’ve dated enough of them to know that most aren’t very bright. Next, I pictured the opposite – a nebbish, awkward little man who’s living out his fantasies through writing. But that couldn’t be it either. Your writing suggests you know women very well and you also know yourself.”

Just for a moment, Ben noticed Elissa move her hand. She was standing there, one hand gripping the flowers and one hand on her thigh. As she spoke the last sentence her hand seemed to move reflexively towards her pussy as if wanting to touch it. She moved it back quickly, pretending it was a twitch. He was sharp enough to realize her subconscious equated him and his stories with masturbation. She must have played with herself habitually while reading his work, likely by this very pool.

“Let me be blunt Mr. Irons,” in a business-like tone. “We both know you write in a genre of quickly written trash meant for bored sexually unsatisfied women to get off.”

“Including yourself?” Ben asked.

He saw a flinch, but she kept her own. “Let me finish. At 99 cents a read, you can hardly be precious about your work. And yet, somehow, you have a distinct flair for understanding exceptional women of a certain age,”  

Elissa listed a handful of story titles that indeed featured powerful women at a certain point of crisis in their lives. A crisis that leads to transformation and sexual awakening.

“In short, if I want to return to Hollywood – I need a part. A good juicy part that shows the sex appeal of a woman my age, while at the same time being true to life in all of its facets and complications.”

“So you want to adapt one of my stories?”

“Yes, even better, I’d like to help you write an original screenplay.”

“I don’t write spec, scripts and I work alone,” said Ben.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Elissa countered. “I could call up any one of dozens of Hollywood producers who’d instantly read the script simply on my say-so.”

“So why not write it yourself?” Ben replied. “Cut out the middle man.”

Elissa moved back to the patio table in a swift and purposeful fashion. There was a touch of anger and frustration in her eyes. Ben tried to keep from staring at the cleavage practically staring him in the face. 

“Listen MR IRONS… This isn’t some cheap payday. You don’t know what I’m offering you here. I can get you an agent. When this film is successful you’ll be making millions. We can even adapt it for broadway. You’ll be famous.”

She was sitting down now in the chair right next to him, her hand on his thigh staring into his eyes. 

“This isn’t bullshit. I know talent. And I know the market. We can get every woman over 35 in love with anything you and I write together.”

Her face was close to his now and highly excited. He thought she was going to kiss him, but she didn’t

“Broadway hunh?”

“Yes, something like Hannah’s Journey would be perfect for Broadway. You wrote that so honestly and directly. And I’d be perfect as Hannah, although we’d have to make her less of a nymphomaniac of course.”

“She’s not a nymphomaniac,” countered Ben, oddly protective of his fictional character. “She’s a powerful executive who discovers she loves intimate, submissive, and extreme sex, but that’s only thanks to one man. For HER it’s about quality and not quantity.”

Ben looked down and noticed Elissa’s hand was on the front of her bikini again. Just lightly touching herself. 

“Yes,” she countered. “I’m sure there are many women who connect with that. We just have to write it in a way that’s palatable to them.”

“Are YOU like that?” asked Ben point-blank.

She ignored his question. “So is it a deal?”

“I don’t know Elissa. What exactly are you offering me?”

“I’m offering you everything. Fame, wealth, connections. An escape from your dreary ordinary life. No more shopping for linen jackets at the outlet store like a mouse looking for scraps. Most people in my circle wouldn’t want your cheap little car to even be seen in their driveway. At the moment you have virtually zero following. No one knows your name and no one cares…”

Elissa continued her insults. As she did so, Ben moved his arm casually over the back of her patio chair. It was made of thin ornamental iron which curled around at the top. In her half-drunken tirade, Elissa failed to notice Ben slipping one of her bikini loops around the chair.

“I’m offering you a life where you’ll never be insignificant again. You’ll be famous and you’ll have money.”

“I told you,” said Ben. “ I don’t want your fame and money,”

Elissa’s face grew red and regaining her typical Hollywood drama said loudly “Then you’re a FOOL, Mr. Irons!”

Pushing her chair back. her arm was raised towards the exit as if to order him out. In a grand gesture, she stood up abruptly and was pulled back by her chair, ripping off her bikini top in the process. 

Ben had been waiting for it and as a result, the next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. Her ample breasts swung side to side as she lost her balance. A blur of ivory skin and pink nipples in front of his face. She teetered and fell, but Ben was there. He reached out and grabbed her to keep her from hitting the table and got handfuls of her breasts as part of the bargain. He could tell almost instantly they were all-natural. At least she hadn’t succumbed to that temptation. He deftly pulled her back and she landed on his lap, that beautiful ass that he had once jerked off to was now sitting right next to his cock with only a thin layer of fabric between them.

‘Woah better watch yourself!” said Ben reflexively. He waited for her to jump back out of his lap but she didn’t. She twisted her torso in a gesture of escape but it made him grip her harder.

There she was half-naked, breasts covered by Ben’s hands as he whispered loudly into her ear.

“Let me tell you something, Ms. Morehead! I don’t want your fame and I don’t want your money. You however are another matter entirely.”

“I’m NOT part of the bargain Mr. IRONS.”

“Yes, you are. And you always have been. This isn’t just about writing and stories and Hollywood. This is about excitement and desire and sex. What you REALLY want is to live the scenes out of my stories. How many times have you laid back here in the sun masturbating to them, getting off to my words and my thoughts?”

Elissa squirmed again. Just enough to make a show of it. He could only see the side of her face, but he saw she was thinking. 

“How many times?” he repeated

“More than I can count,” she said. “Yesterday it was three times.”

The words send a warm numbness into his spine. Elissa Moorehead had been getting off to him regularly. The woman he’d jerked off to a hundred times since youth. 

“And today?” Asked Ben. 

“Once so far,” she said. “I hadn’t planned on it with you coming over, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Ben began to kiss her neck and rub his hands slowly along her breasts. She tilted her neck in submission then thought better of it and stood up. Ben realized it was his move and with her ivory ass now in his face he gave it a hard but playful smack.

“REALLY MR. IRONS… You need to get a hold of yourself.”

“Where do you do it?” Ben asked. “Where do you play?”

Elissa paused not sure if she should answer. She finally pointed to a small air mattress near the side of the pool in the shade. He noticed a pillow on top of it and beside it a towel and her e-reader. 

“You’ve already played once today. Let’s make it two.”

A look of embarrassment came over her face. “You mean?”

“Yes, I want to see how you play to my stories. Convince me they’re that good and I’ll take you up on your offer. It’s the only way I’ll consider it.”

She moved towards the mattress as Ben picked up his phone. “I have a surprise for you. I’ve been recording audio versions of all my stories. The publisher is putting them out next month, but I have them on my phone. 

He selected one of her favorite stories and turned up the volume, hitting fast forward to a juicy spot in the narrative. 

She stood there next to the mattress, her arms covering her breasts unsure of what he would think of her if she actually followed his directions.

“I’m waiting,” He said. “Oh, by the way, take your bottoms off. I want to see you’re that you’re really getting wet.”

“Do you think I’d lie about a thing like that?” 

“No but I’m going to enjoy watching,” he replied. “You’re wasting time. We’re getting to a good part.”

She pulled down her bottoms revealing a pussy as smooth and white as Ben had ever seen. Smooth except for the smallest of landing strips that shone a bright red color. Like everything else, her womanhood was anything but ordinary.

Ben took a sip of his martini and tilted the speaker of his phone towards her. His narration rang clear, his voice deep, confident, and controlled. The female character of the story who had resisted her desires was now getting on her knees in front of the man she was soon to call her master. 

It didn’t take long for Elissa Moorehead to get into the action. Licking her right hand, Her eyes closed she focused on Ben’s voice as he described the ultimate in female service. She had two fingers of her left hand pressing down as she spread her pussy out putting pressure on just the right spots on either side just above the vulva. Meanwhile, with her right, two fingers began to swirl in a fairly rapid rate gently around her clit.  

With her head and shoulders propped up on a large inflatable pillow, Ben looked closely at her face. He knew she’d been an actress, but her intense pleasure seemed real. She really was losing herself in his voice. Her speed suggested she was already highly turned on and was going directly for the orgasm. He could tell she knew her body and was likely multi-orgasmic. He wondered idly how many times she could cum.

He should have done something similar with the Austrian Countess. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. So why not take the opportunity? But this was different. He should be pinching himself – sitting by the pool watching Elissa Moorehead get off to his voice. How many millions of men would kill to be in his place? But it wasn’t like that. She wasn’t just a distant movie star and she wasn’t above him. Where it counted – in that chemical soup we call sexual desire – they met on the same plane. 

In some ways, he hated all she stood for. The money, the status. On the other, he could tell she was just like any other woman of her age with the same fears and desires. The boredom of middle age and the realization that life was short. That part he loved. And he was going to give her exactly what she needed and wanted – even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. 

Ben became aware of a bulge in his summer pants getting more painful as his size increased. 

He unzipped his fly, pulled out his thick member, and began to gently stroke at the scene before him. Elissa must have heard the zipping sound because she opened her eyes momentarily. At the sight of his cock Ben noticed her fingers increasing their speed. She was going to cum. 

He picked up his Martini with his free hand and sipped it confidently thinking once again about the privileged scene before him. He watched as Elissa’s legs began to jerk and she stifled an erotic sound from her mouth. Her eyes squinted and face pinched as a jet of her juice arced over the end of the air mattress and made a splatting sound against the patio stone.

 Her torso jerked, and then her hips as she squeezed and released, sliding her palm downwards as she crossed her legs and pressed it there. 

Ben sat there with the knowledge that he’d just watched Ellissa Morehead cum for him. He was ready to jerk off himself, but he had done that before. He wanted something different.

Elissa’s face had gone beet red as she glanced at him, then looked away in either mock or actual embarrassment. Ben’s voice which had been echoing out of his phone across the patio stopped as the story ended. But this new story was just beginning.

He took off his clothes and made his way to the mattress. Elissa was lying on her side now to cover herself slightly. She was still naked. Looking over her shoulder she said to Ben.

“Surely I’ve convinced you of the power of your writing, Mr. Irons. Do we have a deal?”

Ben laid down behind her. “We have to consummate it first.”

He leaned over kissing her soft lips as his hands once again explored her ample breasts. 

“You DO take advantage of a situation don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, if the situation is worth taking advantage of.” Ben kissed her neck.

“Why that sounds like a compliment,’ 

“It’s a fact,” he replied. 

He slid his one hand between her thighs and gently lifted her top leg. He heard a low cooing sound as Elissa realized what was going on. She was so wet his manhood slid into her without concern. Although she inhaled sharply once he reached halfway. He wrapped his one arm over her breast and held her by the chin in a display of ownership and dominance. Gritting his teeth he began to thrust inside her in an animal-like way, taking the pleasure in every inch and movement. 

He loved the sound of her voice as she oohed and ahhed with his strokes. That rich female voice that could only belong to an actress like her, rounded, classy, and dripping with status. But, despite her angelic voice, he knew that his carried more power. She had already been hypnotized and trained to it before he’d even arrived here. 

“What would my husband think if he found us, Mr. Irons?”

She was baiting him and prompting him to speak. He would tell her exactly what he was thinking.

“Your husband would think, quite rightly that he could never fuck you the same way that I can. The dynamic is too different. Powerful men marry trophy wives, yes, but the rich, powerful husband is equally a trophy – a symbol of what you want the world to think you deserve.”

“And what are YOU, Mr. Irons?”

“I’m no one’s trophy, instead I’m what you REALLY deserve, what you REALLY want, and what you REALLY desire. Smoldering passion, someone who understands your dark perversions, a good hard fuck, and a man to totally take you and make you his in the most obscene ways. My trashy books and my shitty car, I’m just a bit of ROUGH to you, aren’t I? And you love it, You need it.”

He slid out and smacked her hard on the ass.

“Hands and knees.”

“What?”

“Hands and knees.”

She obeyed, Ben, paused for a minute to take in how she looked, rounded ivory breasts hanging in all their middle-aged glory and that beautiful ass in front of him.

He gave her another spank.

“I jerked off to that ass for years and it’s never looked better.”

“Really?” Elissa asked. The tone was genuine and she wasn’t fishing.

He slid his spanking hand between her cheeks caressing her inner thighs, and the sides of her pussy. 

“You’d better fucking believe it. Back then it belonged to the world. Now your ass belongs to me.”

With another playful spank, he slid inside her. And started pumping.

“Actually, it belongs to my husband,” she responded.

SMACK

Another smack, this time harder. He reached over and grabbed her hair with his fist and closed it. Elissa yelped but Ben ignored it as he fucked her harder and harder with each thrust. 

“It belongs to me now, just like that pussy, doesn’t it? You’re having the time of your life, aren’t you?. My stories penetrated your brain and now my cock is penetrating you.”

Elissa went to say something but Ben thrust into her so hard, that it knocked the breath out of her and the words with it. 

“You’re a lot of talk lady, but this is where you belong. With my dick slamming inside you. Tell me who your master is. Tell me who?”

He stopped his thrusts but pulled on her hair. 

“Who?”

“You are.”

I didn’t hear you.

You are. Ben Irons. Sir. You’re my master.”

“Yes I am and I won’t let you forget it.”

She leaned forward on her left forearm while her right hand started stroking her clit. Ben began pounding into her again. Riding her as he kept the grip on her hair. Her breast bounced and he reached over and grabbed one. Her pussy grabbed him in a deliberate rhythm, gripping him on the outstroke. Fuck she felt amazing. Of COURSE, she’d know how to do that. Milking his cock as he slammed into her. Her legs began to shake again. He knew it was coming and all he said was “Christen my cock baby – yeah. Cum all over your master and show him how much you can’t resist.”

The gush that he had seen just minutes before came again drenching his shaft and running down his balls. This time she didn’t hold back, That beautiful rounded voice screamed its ecstasy into the late morning air and it seemed as if the leaves on the trees shook.   

Her legs and ass continued to vibrate as he kept pumping. Another orgasm rolled. He wasn’t sure if it was the tail end of the first or a second. Her ability to take him was dwindling. He could feel her body teeter as exhaustion and the chemicals inside her made her numb. 

Ben was close. He pushed her down on the mattress and flipped her over, propping her head and shoulders up against the inflated headrest at the end of the mattress. Her beautiful ivory body was on its back now but her head was tilted forward on the pillow. 

He was on her knees astride her chest. She was exhausted and dehydrated after her wet orgasms. But Ben wasn’t going to let up. He’d gone this far. He was going to get his satisfaction. 

He gripped his cock and forced it into her mouth, with his other hand he fisted her hair. She was his to take as he pleased and he knew how he wanted to do it. Even if this never happened again he knew the memory of it would stoke his fantasies forever so he wanted it to be good.

“Look up at me, Look up at your master!” He commanded. His head was inside her mouth, his hand stroking his shaft, balls bouncing to the rhythm.

She looked up with that beautiful face – eyes totally submitting to what was happening. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I thought about pumping into your mouth like this and now it’s happening. Is this what you expected. No, probably not. You thought you’d dangle your star credentials in front of me and I’d be ready to do whatever you wanted. Now you know who’s really in charge and you like it even more. I’m going to make you taste your master, but first I’m going to cum on your face. I want to see you drenched in my spunk as I claim your pretty face in the name of its master. 

Orgasm

She had taken the load without flinching or even closing her eyes. She laid there still staring at him with those large submissive eyes – showing him everything he wanted to see. The image was now a permanent photo in his brain. Elissa Morehead was his, his visual territory was marked. But it was not done yet. 

His load was still pooled on her face and hadn’t started to dry yet, He slid his cock in an arc on one side of her face. Picking the cum up with it as it moved towards her mouth. She opened up those beautiful lips without needing to be asked, and her tongue was ready to take the offering. He watched as his thick white essence was licked off and consumed, then he did it with the other side of her mouth, as well as the cum above her lip and down towards her chin.

“Taste your MASTER,” he said as he did so. Eyes locked on hers. She still hadn’t blinked. 

When she finally finished licking him she simply said, ‘Thank you, Sir.”

They collapsed on the air mattress together as a warm breeze caressed their bodies. Aside from the sound of the birds, the morning was silent. Ben was waiting for her to bring up the screenplay again but she didn’t. After all, she’d gotten what she really wanted. 

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Ben thought. And then picturing her cum covered face in his mind again, he smiled and thought: “Damned if I did hunh?”