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Her face is pressed against the glass, the coldness of it against her skin the only thing grounding her to reality. She can feel the condensation against her fingertips, on her hands settled next to her face. The contrast of the temperature of her burning chest and the cold glass makes her nipples stand to a peak, the pleasant drag of them against the smooth surface drawing a small moan out of her. Her thighs burn and tremble from the exertion of holding herself open and upright when she can barely feel her legs, but she doesn’t dare to move.
The voice in her ear drips with sex, and it drags another flood of wetness out of her cunt, “Can you feel it, princess? All those eyes looking up at you. Everyone can see how pretty you look like this, how well you’re taking my cock.” Hips slam against hers, harder than before. The drag of silicon, thick inside of her, making her legs shake.
They are a couple of floors up, in a hotel room booked specifically for their floor-to-ceiling windows. This is exactly what they came to do here. It’s high enough that, if she were to think about it, no one could be really looking up at them. In a city such as this, no one is preoccupied with anything other than themselves. But still, if anyone were to look up, for even just a second, she knows they could see her. See them. It makes her drip.
She arches her back even more, pushes her tits up and against the glass even harder. At least she will give them a great show.
“Do you think they would recognize you? The two-time Oscar nominee Madeline Ashton, being fucked like a cheap whore.” Madeline whimpers.
The redhead’s hands burn against her hips while they pull her harder back into her. The audible slap of their skin resounds in the room and brings color to her cheeks. She can feel the heavy breathing on her ear, a sick satisfaction in knowing this is affecting the other woman just as much as herself, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. That she wants this just as bad.
She can’t stop herself from picturing the image they must paint together. Fair skin, sweaty bodies, foggy handprints, high heels, red bottoms, her undoubtedly smudged make up, and Helen stood behind her, strap heavy on her hips and pupils blown out. She wonders if anyone down there finds this as hot as she does. They probably do.
They’ve been at it for what seems like hours, her cunt overused and sensitive, but she’s still begging for more. She can still taste the woman on her lips, and it drives her insane.
“Such a pretty girl, putting up such a good show. Everyone will see just how much prettier you look coming for me.”
The pace of Helen's hips is relentless, a wave of welcomed pain hitting her every time she feels them against her. A pointed - and delicious - reminder of their earlier activities, only working in heightening her arousal.
Ten slaps delivered by perfectly manicured hands, with her draped over strong thighs; a couple more dealt sporadically while the woman took her from behind. She saw, in the big mirror in the room, the imprint of a small hand against her almost porcelain skin. She's marked. Helen’s.
“Tell me, princess, does it feel good? Being watched like this?”
Her brain is so fogged with pleasure that she can’t muster any words, but a sharp slap in her already sensitive ass brings her back. “I’m not going to ask again.” The sting is the only thing she can really focus on.
The sounds that come out of her mouth in response to the woman sound closer to whimpers than any real words.
“Oh, my poor baby. Too fucked out to even think. Maybe I should just stop, if you can’t even tell me something so simple.”
The desperation claws out of her chest while she babbles incoherently. She can feel the drool beginning to pool against the glass, mixing with the condensation of her heavy breathing. She barely knows her own name; all she knows is that Helen shouldn’t stop, can never stop, and she has to beg for it. Helen always likes when she begs.
“Please, no. Don’t- You can’t stop. Please, baby, make me come. I need to come.” Her words rushed and mumbled, spilling out of her without any real thought behind them.
Helen’s hips slow to a halt, and she feels like she’s going to die. Presses herself back, trying to urge the woman to continue, to move, to do something, even if Madeline has to do all the work. All her nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, and coming is the only thing on her mind.
“I- Why?” She whines. “I was so close.”
Helen’s voice is almost patronizing when she says, “You didn’t answer me, princess.” Followed by the slow drag of her hips, the growing pressure of it being absolutely maddening. Madeline is so full of the other woman, the burning, stretching feeling that has eased with time, but it’s not completely gone.
Helen’s presence is overwhelming in the best way. The weight of her breasts pushed against her back, her taste still in her mouth, her voice deep and raspy in her ear, her perfume permeating her nostrils, and her cock filling her up. All she can sense is Helen, and it makes her head spin. She never wants to feel anything else.
The hair at the nape of her neck is pushed to the side, a small, tender kiss deposited there. A hot puff of air hits her ear as the other woman approaches it, her voice low, gravelly, bringing with her another wave of arousal to Madeline's cunt. “Now, if you want to be a good girl for me, you're going to tell me exactly how much you like this.” Helen's hips slot forcefully against hers.
She feels like sobbing. She knows she asked for this, begged for it even. All of this, agreed and fleshed out long before they got here; likes, dislikes, safewords. Helen is just following a script she pleaded with her to go through. But all that was before she stood here, cunt full and head empty, needing to come so bad.
“Tell me how letting them all know what a filthy little slut you are for me has you dripping around my cock.”
Her cunt clenches and leaks desperately around Helen, “fuck- they’re all looking at us, baby” it takes her an immense amount of effort to get the words out, her brain foggy with arousal, “everyone can see how good you’re fucking me” she takes a deep breath, color going to her cheeks without her permission, “how i’m being so good for you” she confesses, almost whispering.
The pleased hum Helen lets out travels through Madeline’s body like an electric shock, while she braces herself for impact. She needs to hear Helen say these words more than she needs air. This desperate need for approval, this hunger for praise that consumes and shames her.
“My sweet, sweet girl,” Helen’s tone is syrupy, accompanying the slow movement of her hips. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” The warmth from her words spreading steadily through Madeline, “And it’s all for me, right baby?”
“Yes,” Madeline growls. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
“All those people looking up at you.” The wet sounds of her cunt feel deafening in this room, “All of them know you belong to me.”
She can feel Helen’s eyes searing her skin, observing her every move. The show she puts out for her girl taking precedence over a faceless audience. As she feels delicate hands caressing her sides, she arches her back even more, pushes out her ass even harder, and her moans get even more audible, making sure Helen can hear how good she’s making her feel.
Hands that glided gently through her skin stop at her asscheeks, spreading her open. As the cold air hits her, contrasting against the warmth of her burning core, the vulnerability threatens to take over, the unwelcome discomfort of being exposed falling like a veil through her. Almost instantly - and almost like she read her mind - Helen’s voice hits her ears charged with admiration, banishing those feelings.
“You look so beautiful like this, taking me so well.” The praise burns through her like molten lava, fueling this urge that lives deep within her. “Let me see you move for me.”
Madeline begins moving in earnest, pushing back hard and fast to take all of Helen. The woman’s eyes on her only serve as fuel for the sway of her hips, the sounds that come out of her mouth. The words almost tumble out of her, desperate to make Helen proud.
“We look so fucking good like this, baby, fuck you’re so big.” Her hot breath fogs the glass while she pleads. “I’m so close. Please let me come. Let them see how good you make me feel. Please, baby.”
Her words are rewarded, and the speed of Helen’s hips picks up again, followed by fingers touching her directly on her clit, and she almost sobs at it. She can feel tears gather in the corner of her eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the fullness, the pressure. She feels like she will explode if she doesn’t come soon. The contraction of her muscles is almost painful, her orgasm building at a rapid speed. The finish line is palpable to her, and she ondulates her hips harder, just bracing herself for her sweet release.
“You did so good, princess.” Helen coos. “You made me so proud.” The moans out of Madeline’s mouth have a wet, desperate quality to them. “You can do it. Come for me, pretty girl.”
Her climax takes over her almost immediately, her cunt clenching hard against silicon, muscles contracting, her orgasm violently washing over her like waves breaking ashore. The movement of Helen’s hips doesn’t cease, the pressure of her fingers against her clit extending this feeling until it becomes almost too painful for her to handle.
“Stop! Please, it’s too much. I- I can’t.”
Helen’s fingers stop moving against her, and her thrusts slow to a halt. “That’s it, princess. You did so good for me.” Her words murmured gently in her ear.
She lays her forehead against the glass, the coldness of it helping her regulate herself and get her breathing back in control. Helen pulls out delicately, and she’s both thankful for the reprieve and almost cries from the emptiness. Part of her still wants the woman to fill her completely, always.
Tender kisses are deposited on her back and neck, no second intentions behind them, just a small reminder of the woman’s presence while Madeline tries to ground herself back into her body. Helen knows not to say anything quite yet; the notion of having to comprehend and form words far too overwhelming for Madeline when she’s like this. Fucked out and surrounded by bliss. For now, the redhead only provides her with reassurance, her strong presence behind her the only tether holding Madeline to reality.
Eventually, soft praises are cooed in her ear, telling her how well she did, how pretty she looked, how she was such a good girl, how proud Helen is of her. When she finally gets the feeling back in her legs, she is guided back into the big, comfortable bed, still too dazed to truly find the way by herself. Her brain is still pleasantly foggy, and she has full trust that the other woman will take care of her right now. She gets to not think for a little while longer.
She melts into the covers, only jumping lightly when a warm, wet cloth touches her skin, cleaning her with utmost care. She can finally start to take notice of her body; the aching of her muscles, the burning of her cunt. She is truly and utterly spent. Sprawled in the mattress, surrounded by a scent so uniquely her and Helen's, she whines for the other woman.
The warm light from the nightstand bathes the woman leaving the bathroom in a yellow light, well placed shadows framing her body in all the right places. She has never looked more beautiful. Helen wastes no time sliding in bed into Madeline’s open arms. Under the night’s cover, she whispers her next question, almost afraid to break the silence.
“Was that what you wanted, my love?”
“You were perfect, Hel.”