Jan. Week 3: Frozen--Leah gets lets him fuck her ass. (Silence: +25, Suspicion:+15)

"But I guess the show must go on, right?" she muttered, resigned,

"That's the spirit," Baker crowed, already squeezing an obscene dollop of lube onto his fingers and spreading it with gusto around her tight, puckered ring. He was nothing if not efficient, working one, then two fingers inside to stretch her out just enough to make her squirm. Leah grit her teeth and let the sensation burn through her, focusing on the absurdity of her wig slipping further askew with every jostle.

He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock to her lubed entrance.

"Just relax," he offered, but the words were a lie—he was already pushing inside, letting the tightness seize him inch by inch. The pain was real, a sharp stretch that made Leah’s toes curl and her breath hiss between clenched teeth.

But there was also a strange charge to it: the humiliation, the submission, the knowledge that she’d do whatever it took to keep her job and her future intact. Baker groaned as he bottomed out, both hands clamped around her hips.

"Jesus Christ, you’re tight," he gasped, voice thick with triumph. He rocked into her with short, greedy strokes, hips slapping her ass with each thrust. Leah blinked back involuntary tears; the camera’s red recording light blinked in rhythm with his pounding.

He didn’t last long—couldn’t, not with the novelty of her ass clamping down around him. After a handful of frantic thrusts, he pulled out and jerked himself the last few strokes, groaning as a hot, viscous stream of cum splattered across the pale, puckered target of her asshole. Some dripped onto the blue dress and all down her legs, leaving a pearly web that would not wash out easily.

Baker howled with laughter, setting down the still-recording camera and slapping her ass with glee.

"Congratulations," he said, voice hoarse, "you’re officially Queen of the North End."

"Wrong franchise--ass." Leah shot a glance at him while she laid on the bed, breathing hard, waiting for the buzzing to fade from her head. "Can I clean up now?" she asked, her voice tinged with a bit of venom.

"Yeah--you better. Glad it wasn't extra...messy." Baker panted, already grabbing his clothes moving to his desktop to upload the footage to his encrypted drive.

Leah grabbed a handful of tissues from the box Baker kept on the desk for exactly this purpose. She wiped herself down, careful not to smear cum onto the rest of the costume, then took her outfit off rapidly and changed as quickly as she could. As Leah approached the door to exit his classroom she unlocked the deadbolt and heard Mr. Baker shout something from his desk.

"Elsa, you might wanna grab an ice pack for that ass!"

Leah didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response and slammed the door. Trying to think of anything that wasn't Mr. Baker until she was safely behind the wheel. She knew she would be getting home a bit later, certainly sure to draw some suspicion from Jonathan...but maybe game night would distract him.