She was pacing. That was what worried Harriet the most.
She never paced. Not when one of the nerds failed to complete her homework. Not on the rare occasion a man turned her down, imagining himself to be too good for her. Not even when her parents had briefly considered moving halfway across the country, a decision that would have robbed her of her position as the clique’s queen bee and rendered her the new girl on campus.
Yet this trip had succeeded in playing on her nerves so fiercely that she found herself pacing like an anxious wife outside her husband’s surgery room.
In truth she had hoped a vacation might see to the crippling self-doubt which had quietly taken root in her, perhaps even rejuvenate her love of the bustle and bitching that defined her role as campus queen. However, in actuality, without the distractions of fancy parties and doting admirers, she only felt more isolated than ever.
It’s all his fault, she thought sourly, snatching up a cigarette as she passed the dresser. Colin Fucking Swain. If he would just do as he’s told like everybody else I wouldn’t be in this mess. The chilling savagery which had earned Harriet her throne sparked in her chest as she dropped down onto the bed. Just wait until I get my hands on him. It’s about time I taught him a lesson in compliance; I’m sure Roxie would be more than happy to knock him down a peg or two. Or perhaps…
Harriet’s malicious thoughts stalled as a familiar flutter rose in her stomach – the same flutter she experienced whenever her thoughts turned to Colin. His handsome face filled her mind – rugged features, midnight hair, roguish smile – and her resentment swiftly ebbed, replaced by a more unnerving emotion.
Her cheeks pale, she lit the cigarette with trembling hands and took a drag, hoping it might distract her. It didn’t.
‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ she muttered as she stared vacantly through the balcony doors. Exhaling, wreaths of smoke coiled over her features, though they did nothing to stifle her misery. Because Harriet knew exactly what was wrong with her – she was falling in love.
At one time she hadn’t thought such a thing possible. During her reign as queen bee she had turned down more men than most women would meet in a lifetime, and had seduced even more. In all that time, affection had not embraced her once; there had been pleasure, and passion, and countless hours tangled up in the bedsheets of one attractive lover after the next, yet her desires had only ever been of a physical nature.
And yet whenever she thought of Colin, her bitchy world seemed to unravel. Though she hated to admit it, she didn’t want him how she wanted other men. She had no desire to slam him against the wall and decorate his neck with her lipstick, instead she wanted to huddle into his chest and have him plant a gentle kiss on her brow. These days she couldn’t hold his stare for long before her cheeks were flush and her heart pulsing, and as a result she had taken to avoiding him entirely whenever possible.
She pulled on the cigarette again, holding her breath in the hope the smoke might swirl up into her brain and blot out Colin’s piercing eyes. When it did not, she blew it out through pierced lips like the breath of a seething dragon before burying her face in her spare hand. His face goaded her as she closed her eyes, seemingly stencilled inside her lids.
‘Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t I have fallen for some hot gym instructor who’d do anything I asked of him? Why did it have to be him?’ She scoffed. ‘But then, who else could it be?’
As much as she hated herself for loving him, Harriet was a fiercely intelligent woman. Certainly intelligent enough to know that there was no other man she could possibly have fallen for.
Her position on the throne afforded her a great deal, including the uncontested submission of the student body: the clique was happy to do her bidding knowing they might earn her favour, the jocks were little more than lap dogs hoping to gain access to her infamous passion, while the remainder of her inferiors never dared cross her for fear of the retributive humiliation she might rain down on them.
And among that pantheon of acolytes, willing or otherwise, Colin Swain was the single member who would not bow.
In truth, she admired his resolve. And that was exactly the problem. Harriet had never encountered anyone with a will to rival her own. Now, however, Colin was the one thing in luxurious, passionate life she could not have for herself, therefore it was inevitable that he become the one she wanted above all else.
Tapping her cigarette into the ashtray, she took another drag as she rose to her feet. A gentle breeze ruffled the sheer curtains and caressed her exposed breasts, tender as a lover’s hand. A brief shiver overcame her as she imagined the hand to be Colin’s, close and warm against her skin.
Then her pretty face was marred by a scowl and she stormed away to dump herself furiously into a plush armchair out of reach of the breeze.
At the back of Harriet’s mind, the icy bitch who formerly struck fear into all her rivals still survived, hissing urgent warnings over the stability of her rule.
Though she rarely listened to that voice anymore, she knew the warnings were valid: her distraction would not go unnoticed much longer. She had barely shown her face in public for over a month, and she was certain rumours had begun to circulate regarding her recent uncharacteristically reserved demeanour. Even now, when she should have been strutting about the beach earning the envy of her rivals and the devotion of her admirers, she was holed up in her room sulking.
Yet her concerns only highlighted the worst thing of all: Harriet wasn’t sure she even cared anymore.
Perhaps it was because adulthood was imminent, bringing with it the certainty that her subjects would soon disperse leaving her with few familiar faces to humiliate or seduce, or maybe she had simply grown too old for the drama of it all; whatever the reason, her interest in retaining her title as queen bee had undeniably dwindled. After all, what was the point in a life as luxurious as hers without someone to share it with?
The thought sparked a scowl and she rose sharply. Taking a final drag, she ground her cigarette butt into the dresser not much caring about the mess. Her expression thunderous, she stormed into the walk-in wardrobe muttering to herself.
‘No, I’m not going to let that bastard ruin me like this. If this is the last chance I have to be queen, I’ll be damned if I let him stop me enjoying it the way a queen should.’
With furious energy she began rifling through the contents of the wardrobe, hunting for the perfect seductive outfit. Harriet had already tried escaping her infatuation by engaging in a seductive streak – practically dragging men into bed and fucking them to within an inch of their life – though it had done no good. All she saw while riding them was Colin’s face smirking up at her, all she heard was his voice crying her name. But she was out of ideas and no longer cared if it would do her no good – anything was better than wallowing in her misery here.
Harriet started when the cap fell at her feet. Though she knew she must have merely dislodged it, it was almost as if it had leapt at her from the rack. Picking it up, she took a closer look.
‘A chauffeur’s cap?’ Turning her attention to the rack again, she found the outfit it belonged to: crisp white shirt, pressed black trousers and a matching black tie. She shrugged. ‘I guess this place really does provide for every eventuality – even roleplay.’ Running her hands over the shirt, Harriet felt an unexpected thrill and a mischievous smile rose on her lips. ‘Hmmm. Come to think of it, I bet some of the boys would like to see a woman in uniform – maybe I can give one of them a ride.’
With a devious giggle, she snatched up the outfit and scampered into the bathroom, too excited to bother closing the door all the way.
Had there been anyone else in the room, they might have caught a glimpse of Harriet shrugging the shirt over her narrow shoulders through the gap, or the flash of lace as she tossed her panties down, eager to go commando to surprise the boys.
The resounding clatter of something metal striking the tiled bathroom floor was the first indication something was not right, followed promptly by a crash as something more delicate took the plunge. Harriet’s breathless grunts seeped into the bedroom, and through the gap she could be seen bracing herself against the lip of the sink. Strangely, the skin of her arms seemed darker than before, and growing darker by the second. It looked as though they were expanding, too.
Then she stumbled back and was lost from view, though the unnerving sounds only persisted. Her gasps were at first delicate and feminine, yet they grew increasingly gruff, laced with an intensity that implied a body far beyond her size. The echo of her staggering step altered in a similar fashion, with her distinctive soft tread shifting into resonant thumps which agitated the leaves of the tropical plant sat beside the bathroom door.
Another crash rang out, far louder this time. A rogue limb was visible briefly through the gap – thick as a tree bough and twice as robust – then a shadow fell into view; a hulking figure, broad, powerful and breathless.
The room was silent for several minutes save the slow, heavy breathing of the bathroom’s occupant.
The door opened sharply, revealing a colossal black gentleman silhouetted in the gap. He sported a short beard, rugged features, and his chauffeur’s cap was pulled low over deep brown eyes composed of liquid seduction. He looked immaculate in creaseless shirt and trousers, though the same could not be said for the room itself.
The door to the medicine cupboard set on the wall behind him had caved in and crashed to the floor, most of the contents now scattered across the tiles. Alongside the many plastic pots and vials, a canister of hairspray lay abandoned and the fragments of what had once been an expensive perfume bottle encircled a pool of fragrant pink liquid like an exploded halo.
Glancing back at the destruction as he strode from the room, he grinned, twirling a pair of black panties in hands like shovels. ‘Last night sure was something. I guess I’ll have to pay for that mess. Ah well, it was worth it.’
He tossed the underwear onto the tangled bedsheets and produced an expensive phone from his pocket to check the time: noon.
‘Well, Harrison, you’d best get going,’ he said, eyeing himself in the mirror to ensure he hadn’t missed a stray hair when he shaved, ‘you know what Miss Sweets gets like when she’s kept waiting.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Let’s just hope we don’t have to put up with her fawning over some poor gullible bastard in the backseat again today.’
The chauffeur disappeared briefly into the wardrobe, returning with a pair of polished black shoes, which he quickly slipped on. Then, snatching up a set of keys from a drawer in the dresser, he checked his cap was straight one last time before striding from the room.
He was pacing. That was what worried Colin the most.
He never paced. Not when his team lost the final match of the season. Not when one of his bitchy exes spread malicious rumours to his friends. Not even when the headmaster had summoned him to his chambers to reprimand him over a prank gone too far, despite the fact it was the other jocks who had pressured him into sprinkling itching powder in the clothes of an opposing football team while they were playing at the university.
Yet it seemed as though he’d left his usually unshakeable resolve back at home, for he had spent the last half an hour wearing a hole in the carpet over the simple decision of joining his friends at the beach.
Colin had spent months telling himself he wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. The last thing he wanted was to finish the week regretting all the chances he didn’t take and besides, it was a big island, so surely there was enough room for him and Harriet to coexist without clashing, right?
Much to his irritation, however, his mind now whirred, meticulously poring over every possible outcome of every possible decision.
If he went to the beach, he’d have no choice but to spend the day listening to the clique’s incensing giggles and obnoxious egotism, and if past experiences were any indication he would not last long before his temper snapped. So perhaps it was best for him to stay in.
Then again, if he didn’t head down to the beach, Harriet would undoubtedly consider it a sign of weakness. Reclined on the sand, sunning herself while waited on hand and foot by her admirers, she would spread gossip about how she had finally humiliated him into submission. He wasn’t about to let that self-serving bitch sully his reputation, so that settled it – he had to go.
Although, if he did go…
And so his thoughts tumbled in an endless cycle, dragging him ever deeper into the obsession which had gradually come to plague his every waking moment.
Coming to a stop, he knocked his head against the window in frustration, wishing the motion might dislodge his thoughts. It didn’t work, and his feet were soon restless again, dragging him back into his relentless pacing with fresh distaste in his expression.
It’s all her fault: Harriet Fucking Wilson. Why can’t she just be a normal girl? If she cared a little more about the important things in life, and a little less about grinding the people she doesn’t like into the dirt, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Colin peered out of the window at the white sands of the resort beach down below. There were already people down there, and though he couldn’t make out the strutting, bikini-clad sirens of the clique among them, he knew it was just a matter of time before they made their entrance.
Even beneath all his loathing there was a sliver of respect for the woman. Colin knew how easily Harriet could completely dismantle his life if she so desired, yet for whatever reason she showed restraint, only ever retaliating against his defiant attitude with a severity befitting his crime; he rarely dared admit it, but she was almost honourable.
Unfortunately, he had endured the betrayal of enough bitchy exes in the past, the wounds of which still cut deep, thus most of the time he was not nearly as reasonable. Today was just such a day.
‘She’s going to be down there swanning about as if she owns the place. They all are.’
He came to a halt at the window, peering down to see if his adversary had arrived. She had not, though he thought he could just about make out Lucia reclining beneath the shade of a parasol, lithe and beautiful in a black bikini. Of the clique, she was thus far the only member.
Maybe they’ve decided to hit the shops. Or to start their manhunt early. God, I’m so glad I’m not like them: shallow, vain, materialistic. They’ll never understand what real love is.
Clutching to the hope the rest of the clique might not show their faces at all, Colin strode into the room’s walk-in wardrobe, where he had hung his clothes the night before. He promptly began rifling through them.
Without warning there was a flash of pink amongst the greys and blues, and what appeared to be a black ribbon dropped at his feet, startling him; it seemed almost as if it at had sprang from the rack. Taking it up, he frowned.
‘A choker?’
Turning his eyes to the rack, he found the outfit it belonged to: a loose, cropped, salmon-pink blouse and a high-waisted blue skirt decorated with a design of large, white-petalled flowers. Set against Colin’s ripped jeans and band tees, it was a rose amongst nettles.
‘Weird. I don’t remember that being there last night.’ Then again, in his rush to hang everything up and head out, he had paid little attention to anything else on the rails.
Eyeing the choker, he turned it over in his hands. It seemed high quality, with sleek threads woven into a twirling pattern; exactly the kind of thing Harriet might wear.
Without thinking, he slipped it on and turned to the full-length mirror set against the wall behind him. Before he could make an insulting imitation of his rival, however, he spotted a strange pink blot spread over one of his nails. In the time it took him to lift his hand to his face, the same glossy hue had enveloped the rest of his nails. Then, to his wild-eyed astonishment, the gnawed stumps swiftly lengthened into carefully manicured claws.
‘What the fuck?’
The strange changes were already working on his hands. Broad and tough thanks to years of lifting weights, they now crumpled in on themselves, bones crunching and tendons writhing beneath mellowing skin. Somewhere beneath his confusion Colin wondered how there was no pain to the process, though it was a fleeting thought as panic sharply sank in.
His mind reeling, he frantically snatched at the choker. But he was inexperienced with his new fingers and it slipped like oil through his grasp, all as the alarming transformation tore through his system without remorse.
Colin’s short, black hair suddenly cascaded down in caramel locks, framing a rapidly shifting face. Unseen hands honed his brows into sharp, trimmed arcs, while his deep-set eyes shallowed, usurped by a vicious glare set beneath a canopy of dark lashes. His crooked nose – broken several times over the years – reset with a sickening crack; chapped lips were brushed with fragrant gloss, angular jawlines softened, rosy blush dusted rising cheekbones. Within moments, the brawny jock was unrecognisable.
There was a dull thud as his trousers dropped, his shrinking frame no longer able to support them. They fell in a heap along with his boxers, revealing smooth, supple legs and the soft crescents of plump ass cheeks just peeking from beneath the hem of his tee, which itself was now far too large for his petite figure. Plush breasts swelled under his shirt, nipples like studs against the material, the mass seemingly sucked from his broad shoulders and barrel chest, which had caved into hypnotic feminine curves.
Colin was gone in a matter of seconds. The transformation was so sudden, in fact, he never even had a sense of his personality changing – one moment he was Colin, the next she was Carolina, an entire alternate consciousness filling her head.
Oblivious to the jeans around her ankles, Carolina admired herself in the mirror. The band tee was almost twice her size and swaddled her small figure like a child wearing her father’s clothes. It had belonged to one of her former lovers – though she had long since forgotten which one – but it now served as both a nightshirt and a trophy, just one of many tees she had seduced or stolen from her countless suitors over the years.
‘I wonder if he ever got over me,’ she giggled. ‘Doubtful. Nobody ever does once I’ve rocked their world.’ She twisted around so the shirt lifted a little, revealing her round behind in the reflection. ‘Can’t really blame them once they’ve had a taste of this sweet ass.’ Jiggling her cheeks briefly, she eyed herself with a naughty smirk. ‘Well, gorgeous, I guess we should get going. Those hunks aren’t going to seduce themselves. Maybe we’ll have a little more luck than last night and snag another shirt for our collection.’
A few minutes later, Carolina emerged from the wardrobe in the cropped, salmon blouse and floral skirt she had stashed between her trophies, combined with a pair of six-inch platform sandal heels and a golden clutch bag to complete the look. Snatching up her phone from the bedside table she rolled her eyes as she checked the time.
‘Uh, Harrison will probably be whining over being kept waiting. Ah well, perfection takes time – he gets paid enough to drive me about anyway.’
Carolina snapped a quick selfie to post on the drive. Then, her bright nails clattering incessantly on her phone, she checked her makeup one last time and strode from the room.
As Carolina had expected, her chauffeur was impatient by the time she arrived. He stood in the open door of the limousine resting on the roof, scrutinising her with his familiar, unimpressed stare as she came strutting up the drive.
‘You said noon. That was half an hour ago.’
She scowled. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I had a timetable to stick to. You’re my chauffeur, not my nanny, remember?’
Harrison returned her scowl as he came around to open the door for her. ‘True, but you’re not the one whose life won’t be worth living if I have to report to your father that you’ve gone missing.’
Carolina shooed him away with an indifferent wave of her hand as she settled into the back seat of her father’s limousine. Harrison closed the door with a shade more force than was perhaps necessary, and a moment later the vehicle rocked as he dropped into the driver’s seat, muttering furiously under his breath.
‘Town,’ Carolina ordered without so much as looking up from her phone. ‘I thinks it’s time I see if the men on this island are as good as everyone says they are.’
Harrison glared at her in the rear-view mirror as he turned the ignition. Clearly neither the fine weather nor the luxury resort had done anything to mellow her attitude, but then he knew Carolina had no interest in such things. All she cared for was sex and money. And given her father was happy to provide the latter, Harrison had the unfortunate task of chauffeuring her about on her pursuit of the former.
As he eyed her an uncharacteristic mischief overtook him. Harrison had spent the better part of half a decade putting up with young Miss Sweets’ lascivious lifestyle, in which time he had cycled through frustration, pity, indifference and loathing for the girl, yet something about this place seemed to spark an emotion he had not felt before: temptation.
You’re always saying you’re after a real man, right, bitch? Fine. I’ll give you a real man.
Pulling away, Harrison slid the limo down the drive and out under the towering wrought iron archway. However, rather than turn left towards the town, he swung right and powered along the palm-shadowed road.
Fused to her mobile, Carolina was oblivious. She sniggered as a selfie of one of the girls back home appeared on her feed, one arm coiled around the shoulders of a handsome Latino man and her lips pressed to his cheek in a posed kiss. ‘I wouldn’t bother, babe – there’s not much bang in that buck. Unless you’re looking for a quick hook-up that is: ‘quick’ being the operative word.’
Her eyes rose briefly, a smile playing over her lips. Flashbacks to her night with the man in the photo surged to the surface from an abyss of sexual encounters: leather against her skin, powerful hands on her breasts, sharp aftershave and delicate perfume thick in the air. Handsome as he’d been though, his stamina was pitiful, and Carolina had kicked him onto the street half-naked before they even made it back home.
Then again, she hadn’t expected much – she had only seduced him as a means of revenge against one of her rivals who had particularly poor taste in men. Carolina, on the other hand, was an erotic artisan. She had lost count of how many lovers she had lured beneath her covers with little more than a suggestive pout and the whispered promise of an unforgettable night – nights which began right there in her limousine.
In the driver’s seat, Harrison too was contemplating the wild times Carolina had spent in the privacy of her limo, though he was less fond of the memories which sprang to mind. If it wasn’t bad enough that the young brat saw the vehicle as little more than a portable bedroom, she was also an infuriating tease. While he was able to raise the partition to block out the spectacle of Carolina debasing herself in every possible position she could conceive of, it did nothing to obstruct the noise. Her whorish moans and shameless filthy cries were by now stencilled in his memories such that he could have written a handbook to educate budding nymphomaniacs based on his unwilling exposure to Carolina’s exploits.
For all her copious debauchery, however, Carolina never seemed satisfied. Sated, yes – she was a woman to savour her lovers rather than run about hunting down more men than she knew what to do with – but certainly not satisfied. She was endlessly lamenting that man was truly capable of meeting her needs, and even when he glimpsed her making love in the back seat she rarely seemed invested beyond mere physical pleasure.
Not that Harrison was surprised; he had seen the men she was wont to play with, and as far as he was concerned it was painfully obvious they knew only how to pleasure the body, while oblivious in how to pleasure the soul.
As the landscape slid by, Carolina placed down her phone and turned her attention to her bag. Opening it with a snap, she produced a lighter and a neatly rolled cigarette.
Before she could light up, however, the limousine ground to an unexpected halt. She frowned: it took longer than this to reach the town. Peering through the tinted window, she found that Harrison had pulled up before a sprawling villa overlooking a secluded cove below.
‘I thought I told you I wanted to go into town.’
There was something new in Harrison’s stare as he eyed her in the mirror, something dangerous. ‘Why? So you can sink your claws into another boring wannabe rockstar you’re just going to throw out tomorrow once you’re bored of him?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll have you know the men on this island are supposed to be some of the finest in the world. Why do you think I’m even here?’
‘Is that so? Well if they’re so good, why did you sleep alone last night? You and I both know if the men were as impressive as you say they are you’d have woken up this morning still breathless.’
Carolina was growing impatient. ‘I don’t pay you for dating advice. Where have you bought us?’
‘Don’t you ever read the brochure? This is the VIP villa. It’s still on the resort grounds but it’s nice and private: nobody is going to disturb us here.’ Before she could ask why they were there, Harrison went on. ‘Have you ever thought you might be looking for satisfaction in the wrong place? None of those dumb jocks you drag into bed know what it really means to satisfy a woman. They’re little more than boys yet you expect them to treat you with experience beyond their years. You need a man, Carolina. A real man. Someone who knows how to truly satisfy you.’
It took her a moment to catch his meaning. When she did, an unexpected flutter tickled her insides. ‘Like you?’
Harrison said nothing, though his eyes needed no words to convey his intentions.
The flutter of arousal swelled, warming her thighs and forcing her to cross her legs save she act on the temptation to play with herself. She suddenly saw Harrison with new eyes, as though his words had lifted a veil she had not known she was wearing. For years, Carolina had only ever seen Harrison as her chauffeur. He had been personally selected by her father and, though they were perpetually bickering in a fashion quite unbefitting of chauffeur and heiress, despite her dislike of the man she couldn’t deny her father had selected the perfect guardian, for Harrison was equally as adept at putting troublesome suitors through a wall as she was at attracting them. Still, she had never considered him the way she did now. How had she missed it? The biggest black man she had ever met had been right under her nose for years; all the time she had been focused on pulling new men into her sordid life she had never contemplated engaging with the one man already in it.
A mischievous smile weaved its way over her lips, though she kept a level tone when she replied. ‘I think you’re forgetting your place. My father hired you to keep me safe. Your life wouldn’t be worth living if he found out you tried to seduce me.’
Harrison’s eyes flashed. ‘Your father isn’t here.’
Trying not to think too much about his huge hands tearing off her clothes, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Alright, since you’re so confident in your capabilities, let’s see what you’ve got. But don’t think you can just hit on me without consequences; if you’re not the best I’ve ever had then I go straight to my father and tell him everything. Understand?’
Without replying, Harrison slipped from his seat and came striding around to her door. Wrenching it open he glared down at her with a greedy glint in his eye. ‘I believe actions speak louder than words, Miss Sweets. And I think it’s about time I show you what you’ve been missing.’
Diving inside the limo, he slammed Carolina against the opposite door and urgently began using her nubile body.
Immediately Harrison took her breath away. No man had ever initiated things with her so aggressively, and she let out an involuntary gasp as hot lips seared her neck as powerful hands groped her breasts with wanton abandon.
Driven back against the door her elbow crushed into the electric window controls, sliding it down so a cool sea breeze washed over her skin. A stark contrast to Harrison’s burning hands, the sudden gust propelled her senses into overdrive. She groaned as Harrison’s fingers closed around her throat, tilting her head aside so he might savage the flesh of her neck with kisses and nibbles.
Even in the fog of lust though, her inner slut was sharp and active. Softly, surreptitiously, her hand snaked down to his crotch, so gently as to be undetectable. His erection bulged down an inner thigh, the material taut over his impressive girth, and even with her copious experience Carolina hesitated briefly: I’ve never taken anyone this big. Then there was smirk on her lips: maybe he really is up to the challenge of satisfying me.
She did not wait to find out.
Caressing his bulge for a moment of two, her skilled fingers were soon working on his zipper. Harrison grunted as her hot touch coiled around his meat and tugged him free, so distracted he broke away from her neck leaving the skin red and glistening. A smug expression painted his features as he sat back and allowed Carolina to admire his cock; her eyes swelled and her lips parted in a quiet gasp.
‘You like what you see?’
‘I never thought you’d be so massive,’ she admitted. She turned to him with a wicked glimmer in her eye. ‘I like my men big.’
‘Then how about you have a taste, slut? I know you want to.’
‘Mmmh, I like it when you call me that. You know once I do this there’s no going back, right?’
Taking her by the throat again, his lip curled in distaste. ‘Bitch, you’ll never want to go back. I’m not like the high school dropouts you wind around those manicured fingers. I’m not here to use you like some inflatable doll. I’ll show you pleasure you’ve never imagined, but you have to satisfy me in return. So stop stalling and put those lips to work.’
Harrison pushed her down with ease, forcing her face toward his crotch. Carolina did not resist, though she imagined it would have made little difference if she did, for he had the strength of ten men in his powerful frame. Instead she accepted his thick cock as it burrowed between her lips, giddily taking him as deep as she dared.
Hunger quickly overwhelmed her. Her body moved on instinct, one hand clamped around the base of his shaft while she used the other to brace herself against his leg, which in turn allowed her to feed in a hasty rhythm.
Harrison’s huge meat stretched her lips painfully, yet the nymphomaniac within craved more. Always more.
After a minute or two, her throat grew accustomed to his girth and she gave a sultry chuckle as she took the opportunity to work her way down further still. He was almost twice the size of any other man she had fed on, though she knew she would be able to swallow him all eventually. It would simply take a little practice.
Despite her best efforts, Harrison remained sedate throughout. Even when she twirled her tongue around his head like a lewd Catherine wheel – a move which usually floored her lovers – she was rewarded with no more than a soft grunt and his fingers running through her hair. As he sighed and groaned quietly, she began to fear she had lost her touch: her lovers were always far more animated than this.
As though sensing her concern, Harrison pulled her hair back tenderly. ‘That’s right, gorgeous, that’s right. Mmmh, you sure know how to suck cock, don’t you? What a perfect little slut you are.’ His hand came to rest idly on her lower back. A shiver tickled her spine as he reached down to lift her skirt. She was wearing only a G-string beneath and thus Harrison now found her holes at his mercy. She felt his chuckle vibrate up his shaft and through her lips. ‘A perfectly naughty little slut too,’ he said, groping her bare ass.
He ran one broad finger between the folds of her pussy, which came away soaked in her arousal. A wet slurp met her ears and she groaned as she realised he had licked his finger clean.
‘Come to think of it, I imagine the men you draw in are more interested in having you on your knees for them than in returning the favour. A real man would know there is no more sensual woman than one freshly eaten out – and I’m starving for a taste of that sweet cunt.’
Again, he moved her as easily as if she were a ragdoll, flipping her onto her back so that her head nestled between the door and the headrest while her hips projected out over the lip of the seat. Folding his huge frame with surprising grace into the footwell, he wasted no time in spreading her legs and sealing his lips over her saturated sex.
An involuntary cry tore from her lungs as pleasure blossomed through her groin. Her stomach tumbled in endless somersaults synchronised with his lapping tongue, and while her thighs twitched and trembled she bit her lip to prevent more desperate noises escaping.
Carolina could not even keep her eyes open. She wanted to – she wanted to watch his dark hands stark against her skin as he groped her, to see the devotion on his face as he fed on her pussy – but the pleasure was too much. Her eyes would not stop rolling. She quickly closed them, deciding instead to ride the waves of arousal pouring through her body. Her hand rose and she touched the marks he had left on her neck fondly.
She felt as though she was at the mercy of a tempest. As Harrison had surmised, her playmates were largely disinterested in piquing her arousal – to them her needs were as relevant as those of a fleshlight. Until today she had thought she’d enjoyed that; acting as a tool for their orgasm had seemed like the ultimate pleasure. Now, however, battered and buffeted by winds of lust, her body singing with arousal, she finally understood.
Harrison was right: they were boys. Naïve would-be womanisers with more bravado than experience, as adept at pleasing a lover as they were at rocket science.
Now she had a real man between her legs she knew with absolute certainty she would never go back. And she certainly wouldn’t go snitching to her father, either, not now she had her own personal lothario at her service.
Oh no, this is our little secret. And I know just how to keep him from getting cold feet.
With trembling fingers, she eased Harrison away. In the absence of his tongue the ecstasy in her thighs reduced to a dull throb and a little of her defiant edge cut through once more.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ She tried to sound unimpressed, though her words were shallow and breathless. ‘If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalling for time. Not worried you’ll fall at the last hurdle, are you?’
‘Not in the least,’ he smirked, wiping her juices from his lips.
A wicked expression twisted Carolina’s features as she lifted one leg, wedging her heel against the roof and spreading her twinkling pussy in the process. ‘Prove it.’
Harrison did not hesitate. Pulling his trousers down about his knees, he surged up into position, aligned his lipstick-smeared cock with her wet pussy and drove in deep, consummating their most improper relationship.
This time Carolina gave a sensual howl and for the first time she appreciated their isolation; usually eager to showcase her sluttiness, right now she wanted him and him alone.
Her sharp brows knitted together and her jaw fell slack as he plunged deeper and deeper. He just kept going, stretching her insides to their limits and all the while sinking ever further, as if there was no end to his shaft.
All at once his thighs collided with hers, his entire length finally within her.
Carolina’s hips trembled uncontrollably, her breath coming in short huffs as he held himself steady for a moment. The sensation was unimaginable; every former lover paled in comparison and she willingly abandoned the now insignificant memories of the countless nights spent in their arms.
He felt so good it almost hurt. She wasn’t sure she could handle him for long.
Then he drew back and the void he left behind was infinitely worse. Suddenly desperate for him, she frantically peeled aside her G-string to give him better access. ‘Fill me, please,’ she whimpered, ‘I want to know what it means to fuck. Show me what you’ve wanted to do to me all these years.’
Harrison laughed gruffly as he rolled his hips to impart devastatingly deep thrusts. ‘Those don’t sound like the words of seasoned slut, Miss Sweets. Anyone would think this was your first time.’
‘It is,’ she gasped. Her spare hand toyed her clit. ‘It’s my first time with a man who knows what I need. You were right – I was looking for satisfaction in the wrong place and now I want to explore everything I’ve been missing.’ As Harrison continued to thrust, the reality of her situation sank in, drawing a smile over her face: she had the perfect lover at her beck and call, a private villa to share with him, and an entire week to spend making up for lost time. This vacation was going to be even more fun than she’d expected. Now, as her body slowly grew accustomed to his enormity, her features twisted into a sultry mask and she fixed him with an enticing stare. ‘Fortunately, I think I know the perfect man to help show me all that.’
Harrison leaned in close, the shift in position sending fresh bursts of pleasure through her hips. ‘Well, your father did hire me to care for all your needs. So tell me, slut, what do you need right now?’
‘I need to ride my man,’ she said.
Quick to oblige her, Harrison took her in his colossal arms then surged up onto the seat, kicking off his trousers as he went. The sudden motion shifted and twisted his cock inside her, extracting little gasps from his partner as he bore her into the desired position. Within a few seconds he was sat low in the seat, his legs spread wide, while Carolina was sat in his lap, her head wedged under the curve of the roof and her heels digging into the seats to keep her stable. The movement had tugged down her blouse, which now bunched around her waist, exposing her breasts to the cool breeze and sending shivers through her frame.
Harrison was deeper here. The angle and position combined to allow him access to the deepest recesses of her sex, and as she began to rock her hips Carolina’s insides churned with every penetration.
Electric arousal crackling her flesh, she felt the slut within overwhelm her senses. Grinding and bouncing and circling and clenching, she employed all her experience in the pursuit of pleasuring him while her own orgasmic cries rang out through the villa’s grounds.
Beneath her, Harrison was still as sedate as ever, though this no longer worried her, for with their passion had come an unexpected bond. She could sense a primal lust roiling beneath his composure, the raw desire he felt for her evident in the strength of his groping hands, the note of his grunts, the gentle thrust of his hips. Their bodies had become one, bound together into a single entity, and she realised for the first time the sheer power he could wield: he was a hurricane in a teapot, and she knew were it not for his impressive control she would already be a horny, drooling mess in the footwell.
Carolina had never imagined she could ever need one man on such a primal level, yet with every eye-popping thrust she fell further into infatuation such that she was soon addicted to the huge black bull.
The young Miss Sweets never knew how long they fucked in there, only that they were sweaty, breathless and had cycled through half a dozen positions before they took things outside. The high sun throbbed down, although the scorching afternoon was chill compared to the limousine’s cloying interior. With Harrison’s shirt spread across the back of the vehicle, Carolina found herself pressed into it as her lover ploughed her relentlessly from behind.
It had taken her a while to grow accustomed to his stamina: her usual dates were spent after a single orgasm, however Harrison seemed inexhaustible. Even now, as they both approached yet another climax, his invasive thrusts were no less powerful than the moment they began.
As their orgasm approached, Harrison’s gruff tone cut through the slap of their thighs. ‘I thinks it’s about time we took things inside. I need to shower off, and I want to see you on your knees cleaning my cock when I do.’
Her mind a fog of delirium, Carolina giggled. ‘Mmmh, yes please. Oh, this is so naughty. I love it. If father ever found out…’
Suddenly her arm was in Harrison’s painful grip and he had tugged her up to face him. ‘Your daddy isn’t here, bitch. We’re alone. And unless you want to go back to fucking limp-dicked losers and wannabe studs, I suggest you keep your mouth shut about all this.’
Snapped out of her daze, Carolina smirked. ‘You’re wrong. The man I call father has never done a thing for me, not really. All he cares about is meetings and profit margins and fucking secretaries behind my mother’s back. He gives me money to keep out of his way, that’s all. He’s not my daddy. No, my daddy is right,’ she planted her palm against his chest, ‘here.’
Her words shattered the bonds of his orgasm and he let out a roar as he fired another hot load, pushing Carolina over the edge in the process. Their groans danced through the villa’s grounds, echoing from the surrounding trees as though Mother Nature herself was gasping with arousal.
When their ecstasy subsided, Harrison pulled out and strode off into the villa. By the time Carolina had caught her breath, she found him framed in the open doorway.
‘Wait for me,’ she cried.
Leaving the limousine draped in their abandoned clothes, she sprinted naked after him, springing into his open arms and coiling her legs around his hips. Then, Harrison’s hands clutching her ass as she pressed her lips to his neck, they disappeared inside, soon to fill every room with the sounds of lust…
Meanwhile, at Miss Leyland’s villa…
Thanks for reading!
The models I used in this scene are Carolina Sweets and Nat Turner.
Frankly, there isn’t anything I can say about Miss Sweets’ work that this scene doesn’t make painfully obvious already. When it comes to petite models, she’s right up there in my personal favourites with the likes of Piper Perri, and like Miss Perri she seems that her small stature has imbued her with an unfathomable sense of depravity. She’s definitely got more curves than the ultra-skinny Perri, so if you’re into curvier girls she’s one you won’t want to miss, but just in general you shouldn’t deny yourself the spectacle of watching Sweets take a cock, because she’s one of the best at it for sure.
Turner is known by a few other names, but that’s the one that was specified on the actual scene when I looked it up, so that’s what I’m going with. I can’t say I’ve ever watched his work outside of this – at least not that I was aware of – but as you can see from this piece he’s one hell of a hung bull. I’ve linked his xVideos account since that has more on than his PornHub profile, and based on what I can see there he’s got some really hot scenes under his belt. Though he’s not as prolific as some other black male models in the business he still definitely seems worth a look if you enjoyed this piece or you’re just generally into watching stellar work from black bulls like him.
Come back on Friday to read chapter six!
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