Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
JOLIE
He was large.
So very freaking huge.
Again, I might be a virgin, with like no experience with men, but we lived in the age of technology.
That meant I'd seen my fair share of cocks on the internet.
I've had some assholes send me unsolicited dick pics (I think most women can say this), along with doing a bit of a tour of porn sites to see if anything on there caught my interest (it didn't).
So I knew what I was talking about when I said that the Master was very blessed.
It was without a doubt the biggest damn thing I'd ever seen.
Thank the goddess he said I'd be using my hands, because there was no way it would go anywhere else.
He was also hard.
And it looked like he was leaking more than a fair amount of pre-cum onto the floor.
Oh my.
Did he want this as much as I did?
"It's been a while since I've had the attention I need, so this is going to be a quick one," he told me, his tone almost conversational, but there was still a low growl to it that sent a jolt through my system.
I stared at him, at it and bit down on my lower lip in concentration as I tried to figure out the best way to go about business.
"My pretty flower, you best not bite that lip so hard, as it would be a pity if you bruised it."
My attention jumped up to him, and I took in a shocked breath at the hunger I saw on his face.
He reached out with his hand, and used his thumb to pull my lip away from the teeth abusing it, before slipping his digit between my lips.
Instinctively I sucked on the large finger and he let out a pleased growl.
"Now, Jolie, it's time. Touch your master's cock and see to releasing my seed."
My attention kept shifting between his face and the terrifying snake between his legs, and then I finally got the courage together to take it in hand.
Oh, it was hot. Heavy. And surprisingly soft. Almost velvety in texture even if it was hard as steel underneath that.
"Use your thumb, my pretty, to pick up the spilt liquid," he instructed.
He let out a hissed breath when I followed his orders, his head falling backward and I found myself fascinated with the twitching muscles in his strong neck.
I gave the cock in my hand an experimental tug and I was rewarded with Master pumping forward, following the movement of my hand on him. He was so big that my fingers didn't touch but I did my best to hold him tight as I tugged again.
"Goddess," he moaned. "Yes, just like that."
Emboldened by the praise I did it again, pleased to see, no matter how many times I repeated the same movement, he still seemed to enjoy it.
And the more I rubbed at him, the more pre-cum leaked from the tip, and the easier the movements were.
The longer I worked at it, at him, the rougher Master's grunts got, until the point he was thrusting into my hand with abandon while sprinkling me with praise for doing a good job.
And that was even more addictive than the feel of him in my hands.
All this... while I could feel my aching, empty pussy pulsing with need. If I hadn't been wearing my stupid uniform, and an old pair of comfy panties, I'd probably be leaking down my legs, I was so hungry for monster cock.
Which was just insane.
But I couldn't help the way I was feeling—the way my master was making me feel.
And if I was being honest, I didn't want to help it. I wanted it all. I wanted him in my hands, my mouth, my core. I wanted his seed on me, in me, all over me.
I wanted—no, needed—whatever my master would give me.
Before I could go too deep down the rabbit hole of the things I'd allow the monster to do to me, he let out a pained roar before giving a few more erratic thrusts.
And then he was covering me in his seed.
Large amounts of white spunk hit me across my chest, over my apron and some of it even reached as far as my face.
By the time he was empty and breathing heavily, I was so damned horny I could spontaneously combust at the slightest touch.
Horny... and hungry.
Before I could overthink it, or stop myself I brought my hand to my mouth and licked at the nectar waiting there for me.
And moaned at the taste.
I was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to taste this good.
No, for real. Everything I've read and seen told me that men just didn't taste delicious. It was salty, musky, and had a strange aftertaste. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but it wasn't something women hungered for, no matter how much men fantasized about it.
But my master's cum? It was like nothing I'd ever tasted before.
It tasted of my favourite dessert while at the same time reminding me of a double-thick milkshake on a hot summer day.
Within moments, I had cleaned up everything that had run over my hand and fingers and was contemplating going right back to the source for more of it when a low growl filled the room.
"Tut, tut, tut, pretty flower. Did I tell you, you could have a taste?" The master asked me. "Did I give you permission to clean your hand?"
I quickly looked up at him, my long forgotten nerves and fear racing to the forefront again.
Oh shit. I'd fucked up.
Again.
"No, sir," I responded shamefully.
"That's right, Jolie. If you'd only asked, I would have granted you the permission to clean your hand and to clean me up. But now I cannot. I cannot reward unacceptable behaviour. Do you understand?"
Shame and disappointment in myself filled me, and I looked down at my feet, working hard to keep the tears at bay. I would not give in to them, especially not when it was my own fault.
I'd forgotten what this was about.
I wasn't here for a romp in bed or to experience what it was like to have sex with a monster.
I was an employee.
One with a very specific set of instructions and a job to do.
"I'm sorry, Master," I whispered, my voice small. "I forgot myself."
A long exhale left him, but I didn't dare look up. My hands trembled at my sides, still slick, and tingling as if I remembered the feel of him in my hand.
For a moment, there was only silence.
And then: "Clean yourself," he said, his tone no longer scolding, but not gentle either. "The bowl on the table, not your tongue."
I reached blindly for it, at first cleaning off the last of his essence and then wetting the cloth so I could dab at my apron, my neck, my uniform.
And the entire time, I could feel his eyes on me.
When I finally finished, I clutched the cloth in both hands, twisting it hard to keep them from shaking. "Is... is there anything else you require?"
A single finger slid under my chin and tilted my face up. "You did well," he said, surprising me. "Very well, for a first attempt."
My breath hitched. The praise did something to me.
"But you need to learn control, my pretty flower. Obedience. Discipline. Without it, this will not work." His eyes burned gold in the dim light. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." This time there was no trace of my previous fear or nerves.
I had done well!
"Good," he responded. "Your duties resume at dawn. You will report to my room before the household wakes."
I nodded in response, hoping the small gesture didn't give away my eagerness.
"You may go now," he said softly. "Beatrice will see that your uniform is properly laundered, but you should have plenty more to keep you until then."
I nodded, stepping back toward the door, but before I slipped out something compelled me to pause with my hand on the frame. "Master?"
He raised a brow but made no other move to acknowledge me.
"I won't disappoint you again."
A low rumble came from him. "See that you don't, my pretty flower."
The door shut behind me with another soft, echoing click.
As I walked back through the quiet corridor, my heart still thundering as I thought over what happened, there was one thought I could not deny.
I couldn't wait for morning.