Make Her Strip

You keep one hand tangled in her hair, cock still buried deep in her warm, wet mouth, and use the other to yank her tank top the rest of the way off. She whimpers and moans around your shaft as the fabric is pulled roughly over her head and tossed aside. Her perky tits bounce free, nipples still stiff from earlier groping.

“Stand up,” you order, slowly pulling out of her mouth with a long, wet pop. Spit trails from her lips. “All the way. Everything off. Now.”

Rachel stumbles to her feet on shaky legs. Her face is flushed and wet with tears and saliva, lips swollen and shiny. She hesitates for a moment, arms instinctively crossing over her bare breasts, but your hard, expectant stare makes her lower them. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she pushes her shorts and panties down together. The thin fabric pools at her ankles. She steps out of them, now completely naked in the middle of her own living room.

You take your time looking her over — the soft curves of her tits, the flat plane of her stomach, the neat patch of hair between her thighs that is already glistening with unwilling arousal. Her cheeks burn hotter under your gaze.

“Turn around,” you say. “Hands on the table. Ass out.”

She obeys without a word, turning and placing her palms flat on the cheap IKEA dining table. You step up behind her, admiring the view of her bare back, the curve of her hips, and the soft cheeks of her ass. Without warning you raise your hand and slap one side hard enough to leave a sharp red mark. Rachel gasps and jerks forward against the table.

You slap the other side just as hard, then reach around her body with both hands, grabbing and roughly squeezing her tits while you grind your spit-slick cock up and down the cleft of her ass.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her ear, pinching both nipples firmly. “This is what a proper tenant looks like. Naked. Ready. Paying with her body instead of money.”

One of your hands slides lower, trailing over her stomach and down between her legs. You find her pussy already slick and warm. You rub two fingers slowly along her folds, collecting her wetness, then push them inside her just deep enough to make her whimper and push back against your hand despite herself.

“Already wet for your landlord,” you chuckle darkly, pumping your fingers a few times before pulling them free and holding them up in front of her face so she can see the shine. “Looks like your body understands the arrangement better than your mouth does.”

You keep her bent over the cheap dining table, one hand still firmly gripping a handful of her long brown hair while the other continues its slow, deliberate exploration between her thighs. Your fingers slide back into her slick pussy, curling upward to press against that sensitive spot inside her. Rachel’s breath hitches; a soft, involuntary moan slips past her swollen lips as her hips twitch backward against your hand.

“That’s it,” you growl, voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel that? Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

You work a third finger into her, stretching her open while your thumb circles her clit with lazy, teasing pressure. Her legs tremble. The table creaks under her weight as she tries to stay upright. Spit still glistens on her chin from when your cock was buried in her throat. You lean over her back, letting the heavy weight of your gut press against her bare ass, and bite down lightly on the soft skin of her shoulder.

Rachel gasps.

You release her hair just long enough to deliver another sharp slap across her right ass cheek. The sound cracks through the quiet apartment. A fresh red handprint blooms on her pale skin. You immediately follow it with another on the left side, harder this time, watching the flesh jiggle and darken.

“Keep those hands on the table,” you order when she starts to lift one. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

She freezes, fingers digging into the wood. You reward her obedience by pumping your fingers deeper, faster, the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room. Her pussy clenches around you, greedy and traitorous. A thin trail of her own slickness begins to run down the inside of one thigh.

You pull your fingers free with a wet sound and smear the glistening mess across her ass, then down between her cheeks, teasing the tight ring of her asshole with a slippery fingertip. Rachel’s entire body tenses.

“Relax,” you murmur, pressing just enough to make her feel the threat without pushing inside yet. “We’ll get to that later. Right now I want something else.”

You step back just far enough to shove your pants the rest of the way down. Your thick, spit-slick cock springs free, heavy and throbbing. You take it in one hand and slap it against the soft curve of her ass a few times, leaving sticky trails across her skin. Then you drag the swollen head down the cleft of her cheeks until it nestles against her dripping entrance.

You don’t push in right away.

Instead you rock your hips slowly, letting the fat tip part her folds and glide up and down her slit, coating yourself in her wetness. Every time the head catches on her clit she jerks and lets out a broken little sound.

“Beg for it,” you say quietly.

Rachel’s voice is barely a whisper. “Please…”

You slap her ass again. Harder. “Louder.”

“Please,” she gasps, louder this time, face burning with shame. “Please… put it in.”

You smile darkly and finally push forward.

The thick head of your cock forces her open, stretching her tight young pussy around your girth. Rachel’s back arches as a long, shaky moan is punched out of her. You don’t stop until your hips are flush against her ass and every inch is buried deep inside her. The heat of her, the way she flutters and clenches around you, is almost too good.

You stay still for a moment, savoring the way her body struggles to adjust, then begin to fuck her in deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust makes the table scrape across the floor. Her tits bounce with every impact. You reach around and grab both of them, squeezing hard, pinching and twisting her stiff nipples while you pound into her from behind.

Rachel can only manage a broken, affirmative whimper as you drive into her harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through her small apartment.