CHAPTER SIX
In the time that follows that first time, I take a full-time job, modelling at the studio for his exhibitions and his projects, and the money starts to roll in. He pays me handsomely, and I do the job well; I know it is not pity money. The photos come out and they are beautiful; they capture his vision, and I smile each time I get it right, knowing we have made art together. He knows my hopes and dreams for the future; I tell him them one night, wrapped up in his arms, the sheets smelling of sex and cologne, and his promises to help come through. Most days, I am at the studio, in front of the camera, my confidence growing every day; his words and his actions build it. With him, I feel beautiful; I feel the truth of the words he spoke to me. At home, however, I am the same girl I was before him; when my parents ask what I’m up to, I tell them I’m at the café – they don’t question it. I’m not ready to tell them yet. When I have enough money, I’ll come clean.
Things take a heated turn with Martin, and I have never felt anything like it before; my body aches for him – there is never enough of him. I have to have him as often as I can, to feed the hunger I feel for him; I want skin on skin, mouth on mouth, him inside me.
Though I took the job to save for college, my time here never seems wasted. I shoot pictures, him putting me into the shapes and forms he wants, and when he is happy with my confidence, happy I have not wavered or trembled, then we study the images in his office, pick the cream of the crop, and we have sex whenever and wherever possible. I have never known a hunger like it, and he craves me as much as I crave him; he longs for the smooth skin, the graceful hands and the bitten lips to find their way to him, to be explored all the more by him.
In a limo, on the way to his first exhibition, I sit in the backseat with him, dressed in a beautiful crimson gown, the same colour as the cocktail dress I wore that first day. He looks at me and smiles, running the silk between his fingers.
‘I love this colour on you,’ he says.
‘I know,’ I smile.
I move over to him slowly, lifting the long skirt of the dress up to my hips as I sink to my knees in front of him. I am emboldened by him; he makes me unashamed of my body, of my sensuality. I reach for the belt of his suit pants and undo it, unzipping them and wrestling them down to his thighs. His cock is already hard and stood to attention as I coax it from is underwear, lowering my mouth seductively onto the tip, licking and sucking gently as I look up into his eyes. He moans as I take his length into my mouth, my hand working the bottom of his shaft as I work the tip with my tongue, sucking and pulling, his eyes closed in ecstasy. I rake my hands across his thighs as I suck harder and faster, until I feel his body tighten and he moans louder.
‘I’m going to come,’ he cries, as I take him deeper into my mouth, just in time to feel him come against the back of my throat. I swallow it and lick the tip clean, my eyes focussed on him as he comes out of his reverie, grinning. I smile, as he leans down to kiss me, not caring.
‘You are beautiful,’ he beams, as I sit back up on the seat beside him, the limo pulling up just outside the art gallery. My timing is perfect, and I can’t help but think of his cock inside me later, as he buckles his pants closed again. Once we are ready, the door is opened and we head out towards the party, he the guest of honour, myself the muse who inspires him.
I can’t get enough of him.
It is after the unveiling of his first exhibition that I find myself in his office, searching through some images. For the first time since I first set foot in the office, I am drawn to the masks on the wall again. They seem to watch me, always, and I am curious about them. I remember Martin telling me what they were for, and where they were from, but I am always curious to learn more. There is a mystery and an intrigue to them that pulls me in; I want to take one off the wall and hold it in my hands but, somehow, they feel like forbidden territory. Even though myself and Martin are better than ever, I still feel as if I can’t take one of the masks off the wall; they are simply pretty trinkets from foreign lands, which I am not allowed to touch.
I am looking at one in particular; a wooden mask, dyed a deep navy blue, inlaid with gold and silver markings, designed to look like a frieze of some sort. There is an image of a rose and a woman, beside what looks to be a mountain; the sun peering out over the top. It seems to tell a story, and I am in awe of it. I want to hold it in my hand and feel the weight of it. Two black ribbons dangle down the sides, presumably to hold the mask in place on the wearer’s face.
I reach out a hand to take it, just as Martin steps into the office.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks, as I snap my hand back, looking infinitely guilty.
‘Just looking at the masks,’ I admit coyly, knowing I have been caught red-handed.
‘Well, take one down if you want,’ he encourages.
My eyes light up in delight. ‘Really?’
He nods. ‘Sure – they’re beautiful; they should be touched, not just up there on the wall to be looked at,’ he smiles. ‘This one is my favourite,’ he says, picking up an emerald green mask, with silver patterns scattered across it. This mask was more like a traditional masquerade mask; the kind you see in Shakespeare revivals and films set in Venice, with the pointed eyes, rising up at the corners, and coming down to a point on the nose, an elegant cluster of emerald, dark green and palest silver feathers coming out at one corner. It was a truly beautiful mask, and the navy blue one seems dull beside it. Instead, I reach up for a mask of pure gold, in a different style; this mask is a little bit larger than the others, and is in the shape of a woman’s face. It looks Grecian and, when I ask Martin, he nods and tells me it is Aphrodite herself. I grin at this news, and place the mask on my face, Martin tying the golden ribbons up at the back, to fix it in place. I go to the mirror and look, and am thrilled by what I see. Zoey is gone, and in her stead is an otherworldly creature with flaxen hair billowing out of golden skin, blue eyes peering through, a full, red mouth pouting sensually beneath. I like Aphrodite. I look across and Martin has put on the green mask. He is right; there is something alluring about the mystery of a mask, about not quite knowing who is behind it. It excites me, and I feel a pull in the centre of my stomach, as I look from my masked face in the mirror to Martin’s masked face, a short distance away.
I peel my clothes away, stepping out of the dress I had been wearing, and walk, naked and confident, towards the man in the green mask. I undo the buttons of his shirt and push it from his shoulders.
‘I have an idea,’ he says, turning his computer towards us. I feel a moment of uncertainty as he types an address into the internet bar.
‘Us?’ I ask.
He nods. ‘Only if you want to. No-one will know it’s us,’ he grins, and his passion thrills me. I think ‘why not?’.
I come up behind him and undo his trousers as he finishes typing in what he needs to, the little red light beside the webcam beginning to blink slowly. He steps out of his pants and his boxers, as naked as I am, as he finishes what he is doing. I look at the computer screen and see we are in some sort of sex chatroom, where people can see your live stream and you can see theirs. It pings every time somebody joins our stream, and I feel a little shudder of excitement as the number on the side goes up from zero to five, and keeps climbing.
‘Pretend it’s just us,’ Martin encourages, as he turns to face me. I have no intention of pretending it’s just us, I think, as I reach up to kiss him. He kisses me hard on the mouth, as we turn sideways to the webcam, so they – whoever they are – can see us better. His hand slips between my thighs and I cry out in pleasure as his fingers find my wet pussy, his thumb rubbing at my clit as I lean back in ecstasy, his other hand grasping my breasts, his mouth finding a nipple and sucking hard. He is going at it with everything, wanting to make me scream. I feel my first orgasm build, and come hard, facing the camera as I feel it crash over me. I can see us on the monitor, our masked faces, and the sight of it turns me on; it is like watching strangers have sex whilst having sex. Comments build on the screen, encouraging us, as the amount of people watching slowly ticks upwards.
Fuck her against the desk, one watcher asks.
Martin turns me around, my hands flat on the desk. I feel the tip of his hard cock against my pussy, the slick heat of me against him as he eases inside. He fills me, his hands on my waist as he starts to fuck me, his cock sliding in and out, making me cry out in pleasure, slapping against the cheeks of my arse as his pace builds. He fucks me harder and faster as I scream in absolute rapture, the friction delicious as I feel him inside me. I think he’s going to come, as I hear him cry out, but instead he pulls out and turns me around, picking me up so that he is holding me, his hands under my backside, lifting me up as he fucks me in full view of the computer. His arms are muscular and he holds me easily; a visual display of his strength and masculinity as he fucks me, barely looking as if it is causing him to break a sweat. For a moment, he holds me against one of the cabinets, my arms propping me up on the top of it as he thrusts inside me. My legs are wrapped tightly about his hips and the feel of him is intense, his fingers clawing at my stomach and my waist as he holds me out against the cabinet, files and papers spilling out from the shelves onto the floor. Neither of us cares, we are too fixated on each other; of the movement of his cock inside me, thrusting harder and faster as I beg him to, my hips meeting his with every thrust.
After a while, he sets me down and I rest my leg up on the desk, so our viewers can see the money shot through the camera; the pure, visceral thrill of seeing cock sliding into pussy, and suddenly the viewing numbers skyrocket. I watch the screen, watching us fuck, it turning me on like nothing else as I watch and feel as his cock fucks my pussy. He pulls out again and moves behind me, one hand on my clit, rubbing skilfully as, again, I raise my leg onto the desk and watch as his cock fucks the girl in the golden mask. I am coming again before I even realise it, the sight of the couple fucking on the screen sending me into a frenzy, as my body trembles around Martin. He holds me to him, leaning me back and grasping both breasts, pinching at the nipple to make me scream as his cock continues to fuck me.
I wonder if I can come a third time as he sits down on the office chair and pulls me down onto him. I slide down gently, my pussy beyond wet, giving the camera the best view as I take him all in. With agonising pace, I lift up, revealing every inch of him, a bit at a time, until all that is left is his head. His cock is slick with my lust, and hungry for more. I slide down again, harder this time, and Martin lets out a delicious moan, his hands squeezing my ass as I take him all in again. I take my time, letting them see everything, each time, sliding up and down the length of his cock, each time bringing Martin closer to coming. His thumb circles my clit, as I bounce up and down on him, the viewers loving it each time his cock disappears inside me. I think I might come again, my head turned seductively towards the computer, as I feel the wave of it pulse through me, tugging at my stomach; it is a bit more muted this time, but I’m not going to complain. It feels good.
‘Come on, baby, come for me,’ I say to Martin, as I slide up the length of him, teasing him.
He smiles beneath his mask, as he lifts me from him and pushes me up against the wall, bending me over. I grin, and grind my pussy against him, taunting him.
‘Come on, baby, fuck me,’ I tell him, hungry for his cock one last time.
‘I’m going to,’ he smirks, his voice raw with primal feeling as he thrusts hard into me. I cry out in pleasure. I know I won’t come again, my pussy is spent, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel as good as it always does, having his cock thrust deep inside me. He fucks me hard and fast, and I scream out in absolute glee as he goes at it with total abandon, his own orgasm building; he’d been pushing it back for so long, but now it was his turn. He fucks me faster and harder, his cock pounding me, his thrusts taking my breath away, until he reaches the critical moment. I can feel it as he lets out a cry of pleasure; I feel the pulse of his cock as he comes hard inside me.
Finished, he holds me against the wall, his cock still pulsing inside me, his arms wrapped around me as we lie up against it, his body a perfect fit to mine.
‘You are exquisite,’ he tells me, whispering it in my ear as he holds me.
‘You are incredible,’ I grin, relishing in the feel of his naked skin against mine, his cock still inside me. I feel as if he is all around me and in me, and it feels nice. I almost forget about the camera for a moment. It is only when Martin pulls out and wanders over to the computer, to switch off our live feed, that I remember it.
We sit in front of the monitor for a while and read the comments, as we take off our masks. Most of the comments are urging us on, telling us what to do, what they want to see, and it thrills me more than I thought it could.
‘Why did you want to do that?’ I ask Martin, as he cuddles me to him.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asks, suddenly concerned.
‘Relax,’ I smile, ‘I loved it. I just wanted to know why you wanted to try it?’
He relaxes, his mind at ease. ‘I wanted to show you off,’ he explains. ‘I wanted them to get as close to your beauty, your power, your sexuality, as they could ever hope to get,’ he smiles. ‘Is that weird?’ he wonders.
I shrug. ‘I don’t think so. I loved it. It made me feel invincible,’ I laugh, looking at the magic mask on the desk; the one which had made it all possible. ‘I guess I have Aphrodite to thank for that.’
He nods. ‘I guess so. I’m not sure who this fella is, but I’m sure glad of him,’ he smiles, placing the green mask back in its place on the wall. I put Aphrodite back too, and glance back at the stream comments. There are other couples live-streaming as we watch, fucking in all sorts of different ways and places; I ask Martin if he wants to watch and he says yes. Sitting together on the floor of the office, we click between videos, seeing couple like us – some in masks, some in costumes, some just as they are – having sex, enjoying one another, and the sight of it brings me an intense feeling of delight.
I think back to the awkward girl at school and the awkward young woman I had been not too long ago. The untouched, strange girl, whose beauty Martin saw. I look at him, and my gratitude soars; I kiss him, thanking him secretly for helping me out of my shell.