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My office is dark, the way I like it. Only the tall, freestanding lamp in the corner at my back emitting a dull orange glow. It makes it feel warmer. In my opinion. And people always spill their darkest secrets when they feel at ease. That's how you get blackmail material.
Forty-two minutes to go.
Maybe less.
Poppy Foster -Carrington- is a goody-two-shoes. She'll probably be early.
I hope.
Have to admit, seeing her all wet, naked, and bruised, eyes the size of saucers, evidence trailing down her leg of being freshly fucked, had me taking my dick in hand before six-a.m..
Twice.
That's why I hacked every server and cellphone within a four-hundred mile radius to erase all evidence of her beautifully fucked body from the planet, well, apart from the copy I saved for myself… Shame I can't erase the image from the heads of all those fuckers that witnessed it in person. Although… Perhaps I can beat their heads in until the memory slips its way out of their ears in a satisfying stream of crimson.
My cock pulses again, violence and sex on my mind. I lift my arm, check the time on my gold watch.
Thirty-four minutes.
Christ.
Cock aching, I squeeze it hard through my pants, gritting my teeth as I suck in air through my nose. I've never jerked off so many times in one day before, well, actually, maybe that time when I-no, I think this beats that too.
Without conscious thought, my chair is sliding back, length whipped out, pulsing in my palm, and I only just manage to tear my shirt up and out of the way in time. Clenching the white egyptian cotton between my teeth to avoid jets of cum splashing over the fabric.
The sticky, wet heat hits my abs, the rest of my release spilling over the tight curl of my fist, dripping down my fingers as my cock continues to pulse, weeping. I drop my head back, eyes squeezed shut, breath heavy exhales from my open mouth. And I imagine painting Poppy's lips with it. Her chin, neck, tits.
We're supposed to make her life hell now. Which is one of my favorite pastimes. But I usually use manipulation, mind fucks and physical violence. Although, I'm six-foot-four, weighing just over two-eighty and she, well, she isn't, so using physical violence seems a bit redundant, I could just flick her in the forehead and she'd likely tip over.
A laugh bursts out of me at that.
I'd actually find that kinda funny.
But my heart does a funny thing in my chest, it sort of thuds harder, a little faster, even though I'm not jerking my dick, but I picture Poppy falling backwards. Cracking her head on the wood, blood swelling in a pool around her halo of thick, dark, gold streaked hair, and my throat feels a little tight. But then, just as quickly, I imagine painting her with the blood spilled from her head, fucking it into her cunt, licking it off of her face, and my heart starts beating normally again.
A groan rumbles free, although it sounds a little like a purr which is startling to say the least.
I wish she were here right now, for me to punish, to use, to fill with my cum instead of wasting it on my hand.
My eyes blink open, locking on the jug of orange juice atop my desk as my cock starts to harden once more. This load doesn't necessarily have to be wasted…
Chapter 24
POPPY
I've been walking around on tenterhooks all. Day. Long. Just waiting to see images of myself, naked, wet, abandoned in the shower, plastered across the walls, my classes, social fucking media. Not that I've logged into mine for months. The longer the day has dragged on without incident, without snide remarks, without seeing myself stuck to every single surface I pass, the worse my anxiety builds.
I feel like I'm suffocating and nothing's even happened yet.
Lynx wasn't in when I finally got my shit together enough to make my way back into our room this morning. I spent the night in a single bed sandwiched between Bonnie and Emma because when I knocked, I told them I just wanted someone to hold me. And they were high too, so they didn't question my blooming black eye, bite mark on my shoulder, or the tears down my cheeks, they just cuddled me and the three of us giggled together until we fell asleep.
But I don't think any of us were really laughing.
They have demons too.
I haven't seen any of the boys today, which isn't totally unheard of, I only share one class with each of them and we don't have any of those on a Friday.
That's one good thing I suppose, that it's Friday and I can try to talk to Lynx tonight when he gets in from practice, apologise for the pills. For ruining his night. I mean, that's what it must be, he was fine with me before the shower, great even. Happy.
