Slice of Pi 2 (13 page)

“I would have texted, if I were you.” Iris cocked her head to the side. “How was that, being told no? Okay by you?”

“Yes and no,” he admitted. “I wanted you to say yes, but I wanted you to deny me, also. I don't know if that makes any sense.”

“No, not really.” Iris smiled. “It's okay, though.”

“So your first day back to work went well?” Owen settled back on the sofa, the laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him, piled on a stack of books so she could see more of him than just his stomach or an angled look up his nose.

“Not bad. Did a ton of paperwork. I went out to lunch with some friends from work, though, and that was good.”

“Nice. Where'd you go?”

“Philly's. You heard of it?”

Owen ran through his mental map of the neighborhood. “I don't think so. Where is it?”

“It's only about a block from where I work. We're in the industrial complex, and it's just around the corner. It's a cheesesteak place.” She reached off-screen and came back with a glass of wine.

“I don't think I've ever been there. I don't eat out very much, actually. Mostly I make my own food.” He looked over at his kitchen out of reflex.

“I don't know how you do that, honestly. I love the experience of eating out. Not having to cook or clean up. That's my idea of a good time.” She licked her lips. “So, do you want to just chat, or are you interested in asking permission again?”

Owen smiled. He didn't need to be asked twice. Even out of scene, it was easy to ask, “Miss, may I come?”

She sighed. “Not like that. You have to warm up first, right? You can't ask until you're ready.”

So she wanted to watch him masturbate, then. That was kinky. He'd never done this on camera before. He pulled off his shirt and set it beside him on the couch, then unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down over his hips, taking his boxers with them. His cock had long since figured out that it was about to get some attention, and it was definitely interested in the proceedings.

“Shift the laptop. I want to watch.” Iris leaned in, even putting her glasses on to get a better look.

Her brazen attitude made him grin. He took one of the books out of the stack under the laptop and angled the screen down so she could see all of him.

“Now spread your legs.” She gestured for him to move his knees apart, and he did, the position exposing his balls and the thin flesh running down behind them. “Do you need lube?”

Owen nodded. “If that's all right with you, Miss.”

She waved her hand. “Go on. I'll wait.”

He returned with the lube and slicked up his hand, then his cock. The slow drag of skin on skin was perfect. Leaning back on the couch, he let himself get caught up in the sensory input from his body. After being denied earlier, he was climbing to the edge a lot more quickly than normal. This would be embarrassing if he had to ask within a minute of starting, so he slowed down and forced himself to extend the stimulation.

Iris's voice made him jump. He'd almost forgotten she was watching. “Do you ever use plugs or toys?” Her voice sounded quieter, less dominant than before. She was just asking, not commanding.

Owen nodded, not even embarrassed by the question. “I have a plug.” He'd bought it on a whim to make his play more fun, but he only brought it out for special occasions.

“Do you want to use it?” Iris was asking again, not telling.

Owen nodded again. “Yes, please.”

“Go get it.”

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he walked to the bedroom and then back with the small purple plug. He couldn't believe he was doing this. After never sharing this part of himself with anyone, here was Iris wanting to dive in right away. Surely the other shoe would drop soon, but until then, he could enjoy this.

She was still sitting on her couch when he returned to the computer. “Go ahead and put it in. Make sure I can see.”

He lubed up the silicone plug and sat back on the couch, spreading his legs. The lube felt cold as he began to press in, but the pleasure of the slow stretch distracted him. One final push, and the plug seated itself firmly in his ass, the muscle closing around the narrow end with the flared base holding it in place. Exhaling, he shifted back, the couch pushing on the plug and stimulating some very nice areas inside him.

Iris was quite close to the camera, her lips wet and parted, color high in her cheeks. So that turned her on. His cock dripped against his stomach with his own arousal. Tense all throughout his body, he waited for her next instruction.

“Stroke yourself.” She stayed close to the screen, watching each movement of his hand as he began to slick up his cock one more time. This time, he kept his eyes open, watching her watch him as he fisted his shaft. He dragged out the experience, wanting every moment, shifting his hips slightly in order to feel the plug pressing inside him. Iris watched, not saying anything, just letting him bring himself to the edge, which took very little time at all. Before he could do much more, he was riding the precipice.

“Please, Miss, may I come?” He loved asking, but if she said no, he was going to lose his mind.

“Yes. Come now.”

She'd barely finished speaking before he erupted, exploding all over his fist as his ass clenched around the plug. He rode out the orgasm until the pleasure ebbed, leaving him sated. When he opened his eyes, Iris was watching, her eyes hooded with arousal. He reached over to the coffee table for some tissues to clean up, then carefully stood up off the couch and took care of the plug. Afterward, he was always dazed and filled with hormones, but this was the first time he had a person on the other end of a video chat watching the aftermath.

He sat back down on the couch, cleaned up and wearing his boxers again. “Thank you,” he said to Iris, not only because that was their protocol but because he felt genuinely grateful.

She nodded. “That was hot. I think I'm going to need to take care of things myself now.” Her laugh sounded shaky, and she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear while averting her eyes. She didn't seem upset, but appeared unsettled, turned on, and he loved knowing he'd made her that way. “Want to get together on Wednesday after I get off work?”

Owen smiled. Perfect. “Yeah. Wednesday.”

Iris looked back at the screen and drew her tongue across her lower lip, a flash of pink that made him long for her taste again. She was going to be the death of him. “I'll see you then.”

After their goodbyes, when the screen was dark, Owen set his laptop aside and lay back on the couch, still just wearing his boxers. The cool air of the room drew goose bumps across his skin. He punched the thermostat up another couple of degrees and went to take a shower.

---

After the screen went dark, Iris kept staring at her laptop, trying to regulate her breathing. She hadn't expected to get so affected watching him jerk off. But he did everything so completely, so openly, without trying to hide his reactions. Normally, guys put on a front for her, and she reciprocated. The person she was in bed was whomever she thought her partner would enjoy seeing. She always had a good time, usually got off (sometimes only when she took care of things herself afterward), but she didn't open up her emotions in any way. Owen had laid himself bare for her on video chat, and while emotions weren't supposed to be involved in this exchange, she was surprised how much she wanted him. Also, she was left uncomfortably wet and turned on and downright confused.

An orgasm would clear her head. It always did. She didn't linger over the process; sometimes masturbation was another type of self-care task, like brushing her teeth and shaving her legs. She owned a few toys, but didn't always use them. Since it felt strange to rub one out right in the middle of the living room, she went to the bedroom, stripped out of her clothing, and lay back on her bed. Swift, methodical, no dalliances along the way, she brought herself to the edge in a matter of minutes. As she neared climax, she thought about Owen reaching this same point earlier in the day and having to stop. She'd read about edging, but never tried it herself.

As she came close to coming, she pulled her hands away and let her body throb. The orgasm felt close, humming just beneath her skin, and stopping was completely foreign. She surveyed her reactions. There was something decadent about it, holding off the pleasure and making her body wait when she wanted to continue. She sat with the sensation for a few moments, using her breath to calm herself down, her hands resting close to her clit but not on it. The tiny bud of flesh was throbbing with her heartbeat. If someone made her edge a few times, she'd probably beg, too. She might do any number of things to get to come.

And Owen was probably the same way.

That thought sent a delicious spasm through her pussy, and she couldn't hold off any longer. She began rubbing again and let the climax overwhelm her.

Later that evening, when she'd determined there was nothing good on television and her DVR was empty, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, drawing tablet, and stylus. Normally, she worked with ink pens and a sketchbook, but if she was going to send a digital portfolio to Caleb for consideration as a freelancer, she needed a more extensive digital portfolio.

Iris started with her central character, a skeletal woman with soulless eyes and long hair. She'd never drawn this particular woman before, but she always drew in the same style, so it was simple to elongate her neck, put a high-collared dress on her like a nineteenth-century governess, and then sketch her on a path through a forest. Trees were almost as fun to draw as people. Stretched, spindly, sharp—all the adjectives she liked in her drawings. The woman was walking through the trees in this image, but there was something missing. Did she want to go the horror route, and add in a monster? No, that would cheapen things. Instead, she'd include a few background details, maybe make the woman carrying something. A book. Yes, she'd be carrying a book. Iris drew the bold lines, outlining what she wanted, and switched to a different brush tip for shading. Although the woman had started out looking soulless, with the addition of her facial expression and her book, she looked more content on the finish. After the line art, Iris began adding color, deep reds and browns against which the woman's pale skin shone luminous.

Iris checked the clock. She'd somehow been drawing for hours. This piece was really good, though, one of her better ones. She saved the file. Tomorrow she would draw another one or two, and keep building her portfolio.

What the hell, right? She was trying new things with Owen. Maybe she could try something else new, too.

8 

Owen wasn't distracted all
day on Wednesday. He wasn't. If he dumped salt instead of sugar into some of his dough and had to scrap the entire batch, that was just because he hadn't been sleeping well lately. Of course, not sleeping well lately was also unrelated to Iris or their plans tonight. It was just because the moon was full and he was always susceptible to changes in the moon. The moon was full, right? He wasn't even sure. Oh well. He could keep his shit together for the day.

Even Sarah commented on his distraction during a lull between customers, eyeing him as she wiped down the glass case from its morning of fingerprints. “You all right? You're pretty jumpy.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “No offense, I mean. It's just not like you.”

Owen shook his head. “No, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping well lately. It's making me feel all discombobulated.”

Sarah nodded. She hung the cloth back on the rack and tucked the window cleaner underneath, then started straightening out the napkins and coffee fixings on the self-serve display. She didn't press him for more info, which was one of his favorite things about her. Aside from being a hard worker, she was pretty calm and never lost her cool, even when the lines stretched out into the street. Owen knew she went to college classes in the afternoons and some evenings, but she never slacked off or used her class schedule as an excuse to miss work or leave early.

She did, however, like to make polite conversation when the store was quiet. “So are you actually going to take another day off tomorrow? Juan said you took a whole day off last week.” With one forearm, she brushed a few strands of hair back toward the bun they'd escaped. “Maybe you have some fun plans?”

Owen thought about the upcoming night all over again. “I'm not sure. I'm visiting a friend tonight, but I'll probably be in tomorrow morning to check in.”

Sarah opened her mouth as if to comment, but then turned pink and went back to straightening the items on the counter, even though they were already straightened. Owen narrowed his eyes. “What?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

Juan emerged from the kitchen. “We think you should date more.”

Owen spun to face his assistant baker, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

Juan grinned. He'd gotten cheeky recently, apparently. “Sarah and I were saying that you should date more. It might relax you.”

“I don't need to relax, thank you.” Owen was part amused and part ticked off at his employees' directness, and the fact that they'd clearly been talking about him when he wasn't around.

“I'd set you up with someone, but I'm no good at picking out women for straight men.” Juan surveyed the remaining baked goods. “Looks like we made just enough today, right?”

It was clear Juan was trying to change the subject, but Owen was surprised by his need to defend himself. “It just so happens that I don't share my personal life at work, but that doesn't mean I don't have a personal life at all.”

Juan and Sarah exchanged a look that expressed their doubts about the truth of that statement.

“I
do
have a personal life,” Owen repeated. “I don't need to defend myself to you two, either.”

“You know, you could actually take more days off, if you wanted.” Juan shrugged. “We can all handle it. You don't have to come in every single day.”

Owen slid an empty tray out from the cabinet and dumped the paper liner into the trash. “Find something new to gossip about.” He returned to the kitchen to start cleaning up for the day.

Juan rejoined him. “You aren't really upset, are you? We were just kidding around. Trying to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah, well, the mood doesn't need to be lightened.” Owen was already jumpy. He didn't need a mutiny in his shop to add to that jumpiness. “Get those dishes done. We're behind schedule.”

Juan went to work without another word, the brown skin of his face creased with frown lines. Owen returned to his own tasks, wondering at the thought of being set up with anyone who wasn't Iris—and why that made him so damn angry.

---

Shortly after six, he rang the doorbell to Iris's apartment building, feeling no better off than earlier that day. He hadn't been able to settle since that encounter at the shop. Even though his employees had meant well, he was uncomfortable with knowing they were talking about him behind his back, and that they were spending time trying to fix him up while on the clock. He thought his work relationships were a nice mix of professional and casual, and the shop ran smoothly, but maybe he was getting lax. He liked to think that everyone approached their jobs with the same single-minded focus with which he approached his, but he had to remind himself that for them, this wasn't their whole lives. For them, this was just a job. It felt uncomfortable, like betrayal, although that emotion was illogical. Maybe they were right. Maybe if he had something meaningful in his life besides his job, he wouldn't put so much pressure on himself. Or on them.

He took the four flights of stairs up to Iris's apartment to calm himself down, feeling out of sorts, anticipating the purity of submission to help clear his head.

Which immediately became fuzzy as Iris opened the door for him wearing her business suit.

Holy shit. He almost dropped the bag he was carrying. Sure, he'd seen her wearing this on their video chat, but seeing it on the screen and seeing it in person were different things. She had her hair up in a twist and wore those sexy cat-eye glasses that made her look like a naughty librarian. The blazer was buttoned, but it was pretty obvious there was nothing underneath, and he would bet the same applied to that tight little skirt she was wearing. “Get in here right now.” She stepped out of the doorway to let him pass.

Owen walked into her kitchen, already feeling relieved at her intensity. She'd been hesitant and playful last time, but there was no trace of that woman here. He set his bag down on a kitchen chair.

“Go into the bedroom, take off all your clothing, and kneel on the floor waiting for me.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Yes, Miss.” The words felt so good to say, relaxing him, putting everything from his mind except her. He walked calmly past her into the bedroom and started to disrobe. Whatever she had planned, he was interested. He was rock-hard even before he started taking off his pants. When he was naked, he knelt down on the hardwood floor and faced the door, waiting for her to join him. His mind raced through all the possibilities of what she might do to him, or what he might be asked to do to her.

The sound of her heels clicking across the hardwood registered in his brain and in his groin. He wasn't going to be able to listen to a woman walking across a floor in heels again without thinking of this. He kept his gaze on the floor, letting it center him. Out of the edge of his vision, he saw her sensible pumps cross in front of him, over to the bedside table, then back in front of him again.

“You look good kneeling at my feet.” Her voice sounded cool and detached. The tone sent a shock of pleasure racing up his spine, as did her compliment.

“Thank you, Miss.” He couldn't help smiling at the praise.

She walked behind him, and he heard a sound like the swishing of fabric. When she spoke, her voice was right behind his ear. “Cross your hands behind your back.”

He did as she'd asked. Something soft wound around his wrists, first one, then the other, then they were tied firmly together. Almost too firmly, actually. He twisted his wrists, but couldn't get free, even though it felt like she'd only tied him with some kind of scarf. His dick hardened even more, bobbing once against his stomach. He'd never been tied in a way that he couldn't escape if he wanted; it was always some loose loops made by a girlfriend trying out his kink without any real interest, or self-bondage that he could escape if he tried. This, though, felt inescapable.

“Did I tie them too tight? I don't want to damage your hands. I have need for them later.” Her voice was calm, but he heard the check-in and appreciated it.

“No, Miss. They're perfect.” When he pulled, they didn't give, and he felt delightfully helpless under the bonds.

“Good.”

He could barely see her at the edge of his peripheral vision, but she sat down on the side of the bed facing him and spread her knees, inching her pencil skirt up above her hips to reveal her smooth pussy. “Come over here.”

Owen shifted on his knees and hobbled forward, the movement awkward without his hands for balance. She continued beckoning him forward until he was right between her thighs, his face inches from her cleft. Iris took a fistful of his hair in her hand and tipped his head back, pulling hard enough to make his scalp sting. He made a soft noise of pleasure in his throat, the sensation delicious.

“I've been quite wet thinking about you coming here.” She released his hair to trace her finger down the side of his face, and he closed his eyes at the tenderness in her touch. When he did, though, she tugged his hair again and made him open them. “You don't need your hands for this. Show me what a good little pussy eater you are.”

Owen caught the moan in his throat, but a whimper escaped. This was what he wanted, this inexorable desire to be controlled and forced to serve. He leaned the last inch forward and pressed his face into her. She draped both legs over his shoulders, keeping him trapped there, the heels of her pumps scraping against his back. He felt clumsy and inept without his hands for balance or assistance, and the position was limiting, with him kneeling and licking her without being able to get much leverage, but he loved all of it. He loved tasting the various flavors of different partners, generally earthy or musky, but Iris tasted sweet, better than the best confection he could think up at the bakery. Ignoring his own neglected cock, he began to lick at her clit, cataloging her reactions. Every woman was different, of course, and he liked finding out all the things that drove Iris crazy. When he sucked the bud between his lips, she arched and made a soft noise of pleasure, so he kept doing that. Before long, she was quivering, her legs trembling on either side of his face.

Iris took his hair in her hands again and pulled his head flush with her, smothering him with her folds, and he struggled to breathe as he licked her in fast, short strokes. She tightened her hands in his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he returned to sucking. Everything about this was making his cock leak wetly against his stomach, and he loved that he couldn't do anything about it. She released his head after a moment, and he took a great gulping breath before diving back in again. Owen focused on her clit, switching to long licks with the flat of his tongue, stopping every so often to press his tongue into her pussy. With her thighs so close to his ears, her noises were muffled, but he could hear her making soft moaning sounds and gasps of appreciation. His jaw was getting tired, but he didn't even care because he was pleasing her, and that was what mattered. He let his eyes fall half closed and focused on his task. He was made for this. His purpose was to please her, and his own pleasure didn't matter. He was a tool to serve.

Before long, her fist tightened on his hair again, her hand clenching as her hips spasmed against his body. She was coming, her clit twitching under his tongue, squirming so that he could barely keep licking her without his hands to hold her in place. When she settled, her hips and legs relaxing, he continued to lick and suck her pussy. His erection was throbbing now, but its discomfort was only a distant thought next to the satisfaction of her climax.

When she pushed him back, he sat back on his heels to catch his breath. He could feel her wetness all over his face, and it was humiliating to be unable to wipe it away, but that humiliation was also unexpectedly hot.

“Mmm, you did well, pet.” It was the first time she'd used the term of endearment with him, and the praise created a warm glow in his chest. Iris sat up, her legs hanging limply off the edge of the bed, pleasure written in the lazy smile on her face.

“Thank you, Miss.” Owen began to feel self-conscious of how he must look, aroused and wanting, kneeling at her feet. His dick was into it, though, impossibly hard and begging for attention. While he wanted release, the idea that this was up to her discretion made him throb even harder, and he knew he'd follow her lead whatever she decided.

Iris's gaze flicked down to his cock. “I'll bet you'd like to take care of that now.”

Owen licked his lips. “Whatever you want, Miss.”

Iris made a show of thinking, her face full of mischief. The look was incredibly erotic. Without answering, she got up and walked around behind him, and if her legs wobbled as she stood up, Owen was good enough to pretend not to notice. He felt her hands on his wrists, and then the scarf was untied and his hands were free. He brought them around front and rubbed his wrists. They were red where he'd twisted against the bonds. Iris also brought him a towel. “Clean yourself up. You're a mess.”