She has watched a man jerk off before. The low tilt of her chin assures me of this, much less the dilation of her pupils, but I doubt she ever watched them as she’s watching me now. The focus would generally be on her—the smooth planes of her stomach and the generous swell of her tits even with her being starved. She’s battered and bruised, but more than enticing enough to double the speed of my pumps.
My hips jackknife on repeat as an overwhelming desire to come crashes into me. My body trembles as precum drips from my crown. I tug on my dick so fast, even the coolness of my piercings feel roasting hot.
As I bring myself to the brink of insanity, I refuse to look at K’s pebbled nipples or check her panties for wetness. Even with tingles racing from my sack to the tip of my shaft feeling good enough to come, this isn’t about me. Just like the fireworks blistering in the cloudy sky above the pigsty, this is for K.
After adjusting my footing to ensure K has the best view possible, I splay my spare hand on the tiles above my head. I want to come so bad, but it’s got nothing on my urge to make this the most riveting performance K has ever watched.
While increasing the pressure on my strokes, I suck in big breaths through my nose. I can smell K’s heated skin from here, her cunt.
Fuck.
Its intoxicating smell is my undoing.
As cum rockets out the crown, I strangle my dick, pissed as fuck it couldn’t hold back for a second longer. It shoots murky white substance up the tiled wall of the shower stall and coats my hand, jerking on repeat until it goes limp, and my lungs are breathless.
“Go to sleep now, K,” I murmur through the exhaustion clutching my throat. “Go to sleep before I do something I can’t take back.”
I don’t need to look her way to know she’s sinking away from me.
The loss of her heated gaze is telling enough.
Fifteen
Sales Docket Number 12574… or is it Kristina?
Ten years earlier…
“Do you remember what Pa said, Kristina?” my mother asks as she braids the thick waves of blonde curls hanging loosely down my back. I’ve been growing my hair for as long as I’ve been living. Twelve years of growth sees it stopping just before the faintest dip in my back. “Treat people how you want to be—”
“Treated. Never less or never more. We are all equal people.”
“That’s right,” my father chimes in, his voice full of pride. “Everyone has their place. You just need to find yours.”
“I will, Pa. I’ll do precisely that today.” I wait for my mother to twist a ribbon through the bottom of my braid before spinning around to gain their approval on my outfit of choice. I have on my best Sunday dress, my face has been scrubbed clean, and since I’m hoping to represent an adult more than a child today, my lashes have the faintest splattering of mascara. I don’t need blush or any of those other gimmicks they sell on the boxed television in my parents’ room. My cheeks are already rosy, and since I got my complexion from my mother’s side of my family, I’m not as pasty as the other blonde-haired, blue-eyed children in town.
My mom places down the horse-hair brush that’s been passed down from generation to generation in our family before twisting around to face me. “You better get a wiggle on. Mrs. Novak does not appreciate tardiness.”
While nodding, I run my sweaty hand down the flare of my dress before making a beeline for the door. I’m so nervous, my palms are sweaty.
“Remember to finish your schoolwork as soon as you’re done,” my father shouts when I break through the door of the servants’ quarters.
He can’t see me, but I nod my head, nonetheless. I love my parents, and we’re extremely fortunate to be given a cabin on the grounds of the Novak’s estate, but I don’t want to be them when I grow up. I want to be a nurse, or a pilot, or perhaps a naval officer.
If you haven’t worked this out yet, I haven’texactlyworked out what I want to do just yet. There’s only one thing I do know, I don’t want to do it here. The only people I can help here are the Novaks, and they have so much money, they don’t need the type of help I’m offering. I’m only applying for the position of chambermaid today so that I can put aside my wages for a degree. They’re not cheap, and my parents can’t afford to pay on my behalf. I’m two years younger than the starting age of most of the chambermaids, but I’m hopeful the mascara on my lashes will mature up my looks enough they’ll look past the childishness of my face.
* * *
“You’re Hana and Ivan’s daughter, correct?”
Mrs. Novak’s head pops up from my handwritten resume when I nod. “Yes, Mrs. Novak. My father is currently your chauffeur, and my mother is your head housekeeper.”
“And you want to be a chambermaid? That’s your career aspiration?”
I lick my lips, truly unsure how to reply. I’ve never been a fan of lying, so I go with straight-up honesty. “Not exactly. I’d like to be a chambermaid for now. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”
Her expression switches from amused to miffed in less than a nanosecond. “Grow up is a fitting set of words considering your age.”
“I will work hard, and I’ll have no trouble keeping up with your schedule as set.”
