Shanking Shaw 5 (Patreon)

“I’m… I’m not excited…” Emma managed, thinking that she had to say something. She couldn’t just stand there gaping at Scott’s thickly swollen cock.

In spite of her surprise, the lewd sight had its effect on her. Practically had its way with her, how it barreled through her defenses and made her blood pound, her body flush, her feet take an involuntary step nearer to Scott for a closer look at his unbelievable expression.

The look of utter control on his face, even as his hand reaped an utterly debauched pleasure from his erection. It really was like he thought this was completely normal… that he had no more reason not to masturbate in front of her than he did not to jerk off in front of a stereo speaker or a mug of coffee.

“I didn’t tell you that you had to look, Emma,” he explained, a roughness in his voice and a snarl rising his lips off his sharp teeth. The pleasure was getting to him… Emma’s pleasure was getting to him… “You could’ve closed your eyes at any time. You’re looking because you want to look. You don’t hate the thought of me seeing you naked—you get off on it.”

Emma felt her breath rushing, heaving her tits up and down with nothing to hamper their motion besides the cool pressure of the air on them, like some of the thinly diaphanous dresses she’d worn to titillate in her old act. But she’d never had an audience like Scott.

She wasn’t seducing him—she was performing for a man who could freely use her. He knew it. He acted like it. He treated her like a piece of property because she was. She had been the moment she’d bared her first inch of skin to him.

“I don’t,” Emma gasped, her mouth going slack, even as she nervously wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I swear I don’t…”

She felt a sense of repulsion, but not for him. For herself. For the tiny, but very much felt sensation of lewd excitement. It didn’t go through her, it bore down on her, crushing her under itself like a weight getting heavier and heavier. The more Scott kept this up, the more she was shamed by how she was putting up with it… giving into it…

“The look on your face doesn’t pair well with repression,” Scott began, but fell silent as Emma reached out a small white hand to touch him.

Emma gulped tightly. She couldn’t possibly center her mind, couldn’t think rationally, as long as he continued to please himself the way he was doing. She only stretched out her arm to stop his pumping fist. But she might as well have touched a sparking livewire.

The burning wetness of his heat-gorged cockhead brushed against her soft hand, sending a vibration of sensuality like an electric current racing madly up her arm and into her body. It was like she’d let in the atmosphere of voluptuous sexuality that’d been oppressing her since she’d first seen Scott naked. Now it wasn’t just on her skin, it was inside her.

Emma’s breath hitched. She jerked her hand away as if Scott’s hard cock were a red-hot branding iron… and she’d been marked by it.

“Don’t forget how that felt, Emma. The hard part’s over. Now you know you won’t burst into flame when you touch me. We’ll be doing a lot more than that before we’re through, so by all means, remember how you’re feeling right now. Your tingling skin, your flushed face, your panting lungs. It can’t be that far from all this excitement to a bit of pleasure. And I really don’t mind you enjoying yourself. It’s unabashed narcissism, I’ll admit, but I like the thought of you getting off on being my… well, just on being mine.”