Clarissa swiveled her head, sweeping the surroundings. Shadows were moving, emerging from out of the line of trees. A dark figure materialized, and then another close beside it. Clarissa held her breath and panic rose like a hard lump into her throat. Her most perverse secret fantasy was on the verge of becoming reality.
“Two men are coming towards me,” she heard the fear and tension thick in her own voice. “They’re walking towards the car. I can hear their feet on the gravel.”
“Can you see them clearly?”
“Not yet.”
“How do you know they’re both men?”
“Because they walk like men,” Clarissa snapped irritably. It was a symptom of her anxiety.
The phone went silent and Clarissa fretted then about whether she had overstepped the mark, and if she would be punished. She felt suddenly sick at the prospect, and her nausea distracted her. She stared down at the phone for a long moment.
“I’m sorry, Master. Please forgive me for my tone. I’m just anxious.”
“That was your first and last chance,” Nick Edge warned. “Speak to me in that tone ever again, and I will punish you in a way that will be unforgettable.”
Clarissa nodded obediently with her gratitude and relief even though she knew Edge could not see her. She hoped that her appreciation of his leniency would be transmitted in her voice.
“Thank you, Master.”
Clarissa felt like she had been holding her breath. She leaned back in the seat and exhaled like she was exhausted. Then suddenly she saw a dark shape come to the side of the car, like a shark gliding up out of the murky depths.
Clarissa almost cried out in fright. It was a man, dressed in dark clothes. She couldn’t see his face because he was standing right beside her door. He didn’t say anything. She could see his shirt and the top of his jeans. She saw his belt buckle. Then he leaned down and peered at her through the half-opened window. He ran his eyes over her body, fixating his attention on her breasts, then lifted his gaze to her pretty face. He smiled.
He was a nice-looking young man with dark eyes and a pale, drawn face. He was unshaven, but not unkempt. He looked remarkably ordinary in every way.
And he looked sane.
Another man appeared close beside him. He bent at the waist and Clarissa felt his eyes on her, studying her profile. She was staring straight ahead, peering out through the windshield because she didn’t know what else to do. She was breathing in short shallow gasps, trying to stop her racing heart from tearing itself out through the cage of her ribs. Then she remembered the phone with a stab of guilt.
“Hello,” Clarissa said out the window, but loud enough for the sound of her voice to be picked up by the tiny microphone. Her voice sounded hoarse. The young man who had been first to the car stood up and Clarissa lost sight of his face. He had his hands on his belt buckle. He unfastened his jeans. His cock sprang hard from his pants.
Clarissa reached for the phone to place it in her lap, and realized with a shock of guilty disbelief that her nipples were painfully hard and there was a warm damp sensation between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, flexing the muscles. A tingle of sexual arousal swam up into the pit of her stomach.
“There are two men here, beside the car,” Clarissa forced herself to sound casual – like she was chatting to a girlfriend. “One of them has a nice hard cock. He’s showing it to me now.”
The second man frowned and looked back into the car. His expression was quizzical.
“Who are you talking to?” He had a Spanish accent.
Clarissa held up her phone innocently. “My friend.”
The man kept scowling but seemed to relax. He was rubbing his cock through the pocket of his jeans. She could see his hand moving through the denim. He was older than the man beside him, with a broad face, a dark sun-tanned complexion and black shaggy hair.
The younger man was slowly stroking himself. His cock was about six inches long; just as unremarkable as its owner.
“Do you want me to stroke your cock?” Clarissa said for the benefit of her Master.
“Yeah.”
She took him in the palm of her hand and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. The flesh was burning hot and she could feel it pulse with life. “You’re so hard,” Clarissa said. She felt like a failed porn actress, delivering cheesy lines. “Do you like the way my hand feels as it strokes you?”
The young man grunted, but said not a word.
“Do you want to feel my breasts?”
“Sure,” he said.
Clarissa unbuttoned the front of her blouse one-handed, and let the fabric gape wide open so that her breasts were exposed. It might sound daring – and dangerous – but the window was only half-down. After her initial instinctive terror had passed, she now felt confident that she was relatively safe, so long as she kept the door locked. Clarissa was uncomfortable; she felt vulnerable… but that was the point of the challenge, she realized. Her Master wanted to test her resolve. Clarissa was determined to pass… and to discover something about herself in the process.
She went back to focusing her attention on the stranger’s cock that she held in her hand. She was stroking him slowly, and he seemed to be swaying on the balls of his feet. His jeans were down around his thighs. Clarissa turned in her seat, settling on her knees so that she was facing the window. It was an awkward position. Within a few minutes she could feel her arm begin to ache.
“Tell me what you’re doing.” Nick Edge’s voice cut through the grunts and ragged breathing of the man at Clarissa’s window. She looked down at the phone. It was squashed under one knee. She shifted her weight.
“I’m stroking a cock,” she said aloud, like she was talking to herself. “It’s hard in my hand and getting harder.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s certainly a new thrill for me,” Clarissa answered abstractly. She heard the young man plant the palms of his hands on the roof of the car like he was trying to hold himself upright. Her arm was numbing. She changed hands. The young man was rocking to the tempo of her beating strokes. Clarissa could tell he was close to cumming. She pressed her lips together with grim determination and then reached her free hand out of the window to gently cup his balls. She heard the young man moan softly. Then his body went rigid and he shuddered. A thick wad of his warm milky-white cum splashed against the window and trickled across Clarissa’s fingers. She kept stroking him, squeezing his cock to wring the last drops of juice from his balls. The young man let out a huge sigh of breath and then scuffled out of Clarissa’s reach. His cock slipped through her fingers and he melted away into the darkness.
“That was a lot of cum,” Clarissa said admiringly, both to the young man’s shadow, and for the benefit of Nick Edge. “You splashed it all over the window and my hand. I bet it tastes delicious.”
“Lick it up,” Edge’s voice on the phone insisted. “Tell me what the man’s cum tastes like.”
Obediently, Clarissa lifted her sticky hand to her lips and tentatively sucked the spilled seed from her fingers. “It tastes thick and salty,” she tried to make the description sound erotic.
“Good girl,” Edge praised Clarissa, and the small adulation of it gave her a thrill. “Now I want you to take care of the other man waiting. In fact, I want you to service every man who comes to your window for the next hour. After that you may go home, but you are to call me back when you return to your apartment. I will want to know all the details.”
“You don’t want to stay on the line?”
“No. I’ve heard enough. Call me when you get home.”
The phone went dead.