Page 32 of Shameful Addictions

“Show me your tits.”

Lips trembling, Charlotte grabbed her shirt and hiked it up. She pulled it up to her shoulders, pulling one arm out in the process. Her panties were out on display and so was her bra, simple and white with cups that hid her from sight. Her breasts hadn’t gone down in size even while she lost weight, so they looked especially full and round. How could they not be good enough for him?

Her hand shook. Charlotte grabbed one of the cups and yanked it up, letting her breast pop out.

Mamba hissed between his teeth. He lifted his phone. “The other one, Charlotte.”

She whimpered and sniffled and lifted the other side of her bra, letting her breasts hang free. She felt their weight pressing on her, no longer supported and kept in place by her bra.

Mamba’s thumb worked over his phone screen. Charlotte heard each click as he took pictures, the fake sound of a camera shutter snapping. The humiliation went on and on. She thought she might still be standing there in front of him when the world came to an end.

And then it was over. Mamba put his phone down on his desk. “Good cunt. Now get out.”

Charlotte yanked at her dress, pulling it down. Her bra and dress tangled up together and she struggled with it for several long seconds before managing to get herself covered again.

“Get out,” Mamba repeated, his voice going ragged. He grabbed the girl under his desk and brought her back to his cock, holding her head down on him. The girl writhed against him, sucking and sucking, greedy and eager.

“How will I… The… surgeon?”

“I’ll get it set up, free of cost to you. He’ll call you with the date and time. You will send proof afterwards. You know the drill.”

Of course Mamba has all my information, so it won’t be a problem for him to tell the surgeon everything.

Mamba stopped paying attention to her, then. She may as well have ceased to exist. He leaned back in his chair, and held the girl’s head, her silver-blonde hair spilling through his fingers. He pumped his hips, thrusting his huge cock into her mouth, and she rode him and fucked him with her mouth.

Charlotte didn’t want to witness it.

She turned and fled the office. Just as she reached the door and threw it open, Mamba sucked his breath in sharply and then groaned out.

He’s cumming.

Slapping sounds, like something was being banged on the desk. Maybe the girl, as Mamba bucked in ecstasy beneath her. It sounded so wild, so animalistic. Charlotte’s pussy gave a sudden throb in response. A thought flew through her mind, forbidden and unbidden.

What would it be like, to have sex like that?

She fled, trying to outrun her own treachery.

Chapter thirteen

Titty troubles

Charlotteansweredherphoneevery single time it rang over the next several days, even when she didn’t recognize the number. Especially when she didn’t recognize the number, since she knew the surgeon friend of Mamba’s would be calling her to tell her when her appointment was. It wasn’t until then that she realized how many times she was called by spammers and telemarketers, and haters. How those haters acquired her phone number, she would never know, but they had. Either way, she knew that when she answered the phone and the caller was already speaking, raging at her, it was someone come to express their sheer displeasure over her very existence; she ended those calls as soon as they started, beyond the point of defending herself in the eyes of the public.

She couldn’t defend herself when she wasn’t even quite sure what her real purpose was anymore.

She dreaded every single phone call, tensing whenever her phone screen lit up. No matter what the reason, whether it was her phone telling her she had a low battery, or needed to update, or had a call, she tensed up so hard her muscles began to ache from the constant strain.

It was getting to the point where she didn’t know how much more she was going to be able to take. A person had limits. Regular people like her did, at least. This whole thing with Mamba kept pushing her and pushing her and she was already far beyond what she thought she could withstand. She had long since been broken and now, well, now she simply waited to be tossed in the trash once Mamba realized he no longer had a use for her.

She sat in her office chair, gazing blankly at her laptop. It had died while she was working away, searching for options on how to make money, and she couldn’t find the energy to get up and fetch the plug from where it lay, coiled, black and snakelike, along the wall. She had been trying to set up a false identity for herself, a pseudonym of sorts she could use to get jobs. Unfortunately, her research had shown her she still needed to prove her actual identity and no one would accept her. It was just as well that she didn’t plug the computer in and get it working again, since her latest attempt to recover was looking bleak.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw her phone light up. She flinched and braced herself, breath lodging in her throat. A jingling tune, ironically cheerful, accompanied the device’s vibration. She could tell from where she sat that the number calling her had no name attached to it, meaning it could have been anyone.

A disgruntled former fan, or a recorded voice attempting to finagle her social security number from her.

Charlotte reached for her phone, her fingers shaking just as much as it was. She picked it up and slid her thumb over the screen to answer the call, an automatic action that didn’t at all reflect how tightly her anxieties had wound her, how fast her heart beat.

“Hello?” She sounded normal, without a tremor in her voice, though by that point the shaking extended to the rest of her body.

---