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The White King update
🕑 Added 2019-06-18 20:46:00 +0000 UTC
Emma enjoyed the businessmen’s discomfort. She wasn’t doing anything to put them on edge—though certainly she was capable of that—she was only wearing a white corset bodysuit, barely made fit for polite society by wearing a micro skirt over the bottom, which would’ve otherwise left her pubic mound and buttocks half-exposed. It was emblematic of their weakness that instead of her gloriously naked flesh filling them with lust, with a desire to dominate, or even an aesthetic appreciation of her bodily virtues, they were instead uncomfortable. Concerned with causing offense or, when you came right down to it, admitting masculinity.
Scott had no such problems. When he came into the meeting room, talk about swagger—he didn’t even bother to color-coordinate with her, despite the title. His business suit was gravel-gray, with only a white tie and white frames on his sunglasses to give any indication he was the king to her White Queen. And, even with ruby quartz lenses blocking his eyes off, his vision caressed her as he came in, feeling a combination of discontent lust and satisfaction in knowing she was his. Emma smiled and flaunted herself, provoking a spike of arousal in his pants at the mere sight of her arched back. No hands—or telepathy—required, except for her to peek into his head and enjoy the slight discomfort of his stiffening erection rubbing against the seam of his trousers.
“Gentlemen,” Scott said as he sat at the chair Emma was standing beside. “I understand you’ve discovered some misgivings about our contract.”
This, the businessmen could understand. Finances and legalese came to them far easier than all but the crudest lusts. Their self-proclaimed leader spoke up, actually thinking himself an alpha—Emma had to work not to laugh. “Yes, the oil futures—“
“Have fallen since we signed the contracts,” Scott finished for him. “Green technologies are and will eat into profits across the board. Unfortunate, at least for us. But renewables will not supplant the internal combustion engine in the next five years, so there’s no need to worry. Our oil will still sell, prices will fluctuate up and down as they’ve always done, and we will all abide by the contracts we’ve signed.”
“Even if we want out?” the man insisted.
Scott sighed. “Emma,” he said, “remove your skirt.”
For a moment, Emma hesitated, disbelieving. Could it be? The original straight arrow was going to have her do something obscene in the midst of a dozen business partners? But then she grinned with naughty delight. Yes. Yes, that would put them in their places. Showing them that for all their vaunted Masters of the Universe pretensions, Scott was the only one of them with the balls—and the cock—to give her what she wanted.
She pulled out the drawstring of the skirt, allowing it to slip down her thighs unhindered. The crotch of the bodysuit that it’d been covering was a strand of fabric traveling between her buttocks and over her pubis in a slender ribbon that didn’t even come near her thighs—really only separating her cheeks and covering her slit itself. And even though the skirt falling away didn’t show much, with her voluptuous ass facing away from everyone else in the room, she still felt a flicker of autoerotic pleasure in stripping before them. Scott had been right about her. As good as it was to be queen, it was easiest to get fucked like a whore when you were a whore.
“Bend over the table,” Scott continued, his voice perfectly even and in control. As Emma obeyed—pressing herself so flat to the conference room’s tabletop that she displayed the half-moons of her ass rising up above her narrow waist—Scott continued as if she were not even there. “You’re boring me, gentlemen. Your small-minded fears and unthinking anxieties are pedantically predictable. So I’m going to entertain myself. And Emma as well, since she’s had to put up with you all while giving you glimpses of a body you don’t even deserve to think about.”
Scott pulled aside the thong of the bodice and took hold of the buttplug protruding from Emma’s anus. That first solid grip, the jolt of motion, shook Emma to her core. With little more warning than that, Scott began easing the buttplug out of her, leaving Emma’s hips twitching in aroused little paroxysms. Far beyond the thrill of exhibitionism and the taboo of submission, there was the simple physicality of having a large foreign object moving in her asshole. Emma sighed happily and licked her lips.
Finally, it was out, its removal triggering lube to run from the tip, leaving Emma not only splayed open, but well-lubricated—as ready as she ever could be for Scott’s mammoth cock.
Scott dropped the buttplug on the table and sat back in his chair as he undid his belt. “You will all abide by the contracts you’ve signed. The venture will make money, even if it’s less than you were expecting. If you’re that broken up about it, I suggest you find a new line of investment. Summers Industries certainly will be doing so.” He hauled out his cock, massively erect, but made no move towards Emma. “Here, girl,” he said in sardonic imitation of a dog owner.
Emma flushed, humiliated before the businessmen, shown to be no more than Scott’s bitch in the starkest terms possible, but she couldn’t care. She was clenching so hard inside, so hot and wet… if those bastards had any sense, they would wish they could be railed as well as she was about to be.
Emma straddled Scott’s waist as if giving him a lapdance, facing away from him, reaching down to clutch his manhood and rub it against her wet sex, stripper moves to the beat of the hot blood pounding her ears, putting on a performance but not like the old days. She was performing for Scott, letting him know how much she appreciated the fuck he was about to give her, and in a way performing for the businessmen—showing them what was not and never would be theirs.
With Scott’s member well-lubricated, throbbing to stony readiness, she squeezed her tight sphincter over his knob, then slid halfway down his lengthy shaft, tremors going through all her half-naked body, her pussy clenching on nothing and leaking copious arousal as she reached down to rub it with her hands, adding to the wonderful pressure of Scott’s cock in her ass. So much more and so much better than an inanimate buttplug could ever be.
Scott could’ve been a statue, showing his satisfaction with only a half-grin, copping a feel of one creamy thigh as Emma paused, trying to get used to his size. He spoke as calmly and as evenly as ever, though his cock was throbbing like mad inside of Emma’s rectum. “Of course, if any of you would like to void our contracts, you’re welcome to challenge them in court. Frankly, though, all the money we’d spend on billable hours could go to charity—orphanages and the like. It seems like bad karma to take that money and fritter it away on a fruitless legal matter, doesn’t it Emma?”
Reining in her tightening, clenching muscles, Emma forced herself further down Scott’s length, until she was seated in his lap, totally impaled on him. She gaped, she even drooled a little, but she managed to answer in a strained, wavering voice. “Tempting the fates,” she agreed.
Scott ran a hand over Emma’s smooth back, feeling the roiling muscles as she swayed and clenched on his manhood like a rider on a horse. “It may sound silly to you, but I am a bit superstitious about these things. I’ve been around a while and it seems like putting those sort of negative vibes out into the world would inevitably result in unfortunate accidents for you and your businesses. I’ve seen it happen before.”
Emma pulled herself slowly up her own penetration, reaching back to grip Scott’s shoulders for support. She came to the head of his cock, showing off nearly every inch of the massively engorged prick she had taken up her ass, precum spilling down its length, the knob shaking like an angrily tightened fist inside her asshole. She drank in the awe of the businessmen, shock over how huge Scott was and how totally she devoured him despite his size. Then, when they thought she couldn’t take anymore, when they actually thought she’d gotten enough of his oversized cock, she lunged down Scott’s erection, devouring it with her ass. Emma cried out in a guttural groan as she forced him into her rectum, not stopping until her cunt was against his equally engorged balls, feeling pain and pleasure warring in her straining body.
With all attention on Emma, Scott laid back against the headrest, teeth gritted madly. He wasn’t sure how long he could take the torturous pressure inside Emma’s ass, but he certainly wasn’t about to interrupt. In their daily duel for control, she’d taken the lead. He may have owned her ass, but she was using it to torment him so deliciously he could barely stand it. He moved his hands around her body and took hold of her voluptuous breasts, seeking out the hardened nipples through her bodysuit, twisting them to return some of the punishment she was inflicting on him, while his body jerked with growing ecstasy.
“You really should trust Scott to… ghhh… take care of you,” Emma groaned, vibrating with satisfaction already, wanting to luxuriate in the feeling of being filled this way, but too lustful not to want more. And she couldn’t believe how rapidly her pleasure was mounting. She bucked up and down, watching with lurid amusement as the businessmen’s eyes followed her bounding breasts. “He’s the kind of person you should be in business with… a real man… man… ohhhh!”
Her orgasm was peaking, forcing a yelp out of her when she felt Scott grab her by the waist and shove her facedown on the table. Bent over it, held in his vise-like grip, she was little more than a doll—a hole for Scott to violently hammer into. And though he was stoic on the outside, she could hear every dirty, depraved thought he was sending her way.
Take it, bitch, his mind burnt, as angry red as his optic blasts. His mouth was on the back of her neck, not quite biting her and not quite kissing her. Come on, you cock-hungry whore. Make this fat ass swallow my cock.
Emma was knocked forward by his pumping hips, almost thrown across the table, but she held on with an iron grip to the edge and thrust her body back against his, matching his speed, his urgency—his lust. It took what felt like an eternity, but finally she felt the scalding release of his cum inside of her. It seemed to melt her, turning all the pain she’d felt inside into warm butter…
“Hn! Hn! Hn!” Scott grunted, grinding his thick seed into her well-used asshole. His thoughts bulled into Emma’s mind just as aggressively. Enjoy it, you fucking cum whore. I’m giving you every drop…
She believed him. His cum filled her bowels and seeped out of her anus, rolling down her thighs. Emma felt a pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with the boiling cum inside her, knowing that she’d gotten so much jism from Scott. It settled inside of her like pudding, totally filling her up.
Scott smacked the last of his cum into Emma with a crushing lunge, then relaxed. He stood over her for a long time, unable to move, enjoying the defeated limpness of her asshole around his deflating cock. Then he pulled out, picked up the buttplug, and replaced it in Emma’s loose asshole.
“And that,” Emma said weakly, “is a man who knows what to do with your money.”
They left, suitably chastened—knowing they would never have a woman as perfect as Emma Frost. And that they certainly would never be able to please her like the White King had.
Comments
Shendude
Wow.
