January Week 2: Friday--Leah Gets into the scene...

She tried to tune out his voice, focusing instead on the mechanics: open wider, take him deeper, swirl the tongue, use a hand at the base to keep him from **** her. She’d done this plenty of times, in college and before—certainly a lot after, but rarely with a camera right in her face. Never with a leering teacher running commentary about how good she looked in a child’s dress while she choked on his cock.

Baker grabbed her by the hair, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they threaded through the brown-black waves.

“You really do look like a princess down there,” he said, voice low and crude. “Smile bigger. Show some teeth.”

She bared her teeth in a snarl, and he laughed again—this time softer, almost pleased. “Good girl. That’s the spirit. All-American wholesomeness. Now moan like you mean it.”

She hummed, vibrating his cock with a sound halfway between a whimper and a curse. The humiliation was a physical thing, a weight pressing down on her shoulders and back, and she could feel her face flush redder with every second.

“Look at the camera,” Baker ordered. “Look up, Leah. Give ‘em those big doe eyes.”

She did, and the flash of the autofocus stung. It caught the tears beading at the corners of her eyelids and the slick sheen of spit on her chin, and she imagined—hoped—that it also captured the deep, burning hatred in her gaze. Let him show it to the world, she thought. Let him try to explain how he broke her and why it tasted so good.

He pressed her head down harder, his other hand now free to film from above, and she gagged loudly. The sound only made him more excited. “Yeah, just like that,” he hissed. “That’s the money shot. What would your fiancé think if he saw you like this, huh?”

She pulled back, coughing, threads of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his cock. “Probably that I’m overqualified for this job,” she spat. “Or maybe he’d just want a copy.”

Baker roared with laughter, bouncing the camera in his hand. “You’re a real firecracker, Miss Williams. Just wait ‘til I get you in a seven-dwarf gangbang.”

Leah swallowed her disgust and took him back in, pumping her fist at the base to keep him from **** her a second time. She bobbed her head in a rhythm that was anything but loving, cheeks hollowing with each pass, eyes locked on the lens. She wanted the camera to see her contempt, her defiance, to record every ounce of her resistance along with every ounce of her compliance.

“Careful,” Baker grunted. “You keep that up, I’ll have to cut the scene short.”

She slowed, and for one wild moment, leaned up and licked just the head of his cock with a teasing, lollipop swirl. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your big finish,” she said. “You know how the students hate a rushed job.”

Baker shook with laughter, then reached over and adjusted the camera tripod so that it framed both of them: the ruined princess and her leering director.

“Let’s try a new angle, shall we?” he said, and gestured for her to crawl onto the bed fully. “I’m Prince Charming so—what does the not-so-lady prefer?”