Page 46 of Shameful Addictions

While this couldn’t have been further from the right environment, she found herself wanting to show Mamba what she was capable of.

He would never have seen her, before.

Charlotte set the script aside and spread her legs, putting the petal-like folds of her pussy on display. She tried to shut off the skeptical part of her brain and just go with the flow, pretending she was safe in her own bedroom. The couch beneath her became a bed, in her mind.

Eyes closed, she trailed her hand down her body, pausing to give her big tits a squeeze. They really felt like the real thing, amazing her. She played with her nipples, rubbing and stroking first one and then the other, making them hard and pointy. Her pussy twinged, demanding attention. Catching her breath, Charlotte let her hand wander down to her pussy and rubbed her outer lips with her fingers, getting them wet. With her now-lubricated fingers, she pushed past her labia and sought out her moist entrance. She caressed all around her pouting pussy and started to insert one finger, pushing it inside herself. Her muscles clenched, gripping her finger as it entered, pulling at it to draw it deeper in.

Her back arched from the shocks of pleasure. Charlotte relaxed back and lifted her hips, now pushing a second finger inside her pussy. Wetness pooled in the palm of her hand.

A soft sound registered to her right. It reminded her of… a door.

Charlotte’s eyes flew open. Mamba stood in the doorway to the studio, his nostrils flaring as he watched her.

Chapter eighteen

Rub up against my leg

Charlotte’sbodyshutdown.Her muscles clamped off. She yanked her hand away from her pussy, which was already getting dry again in her shock. Either her cheeks were flushed or she was blushing because her face felt hot. She could hardly believe that she had let herself get so carried away.

Mamba shut the door and strode into the room. “What are you doing?” he growled.

Charlotte shrank back against the couch. “I’m just… just making sure I’m wet like you said to be.”

“No. Why are you stopping?” He flashed his fanglike teeth in a fierce grin. “I almost wouldn’t have believed you were capable of it. Keep going.”

Charlotte ducked her head. “Can’t we go ahead and film?”

“You aren’t wet enough anymore. Keep. Going.”

She searched deep inside herself and found a spark of arousal still at her core, a little dying light like a candle about to go out. She rubbed herself with her fingers, stroking the flame, paying extra attention to her swollen, dewy clit. She once again shut off her mind and focused on what her body told her, what her body needed. She kept rubbing, working her clit up and down with two fingers.

While most of her was focused upon her pussy, she couldn’t help but remain very aware of Mamba’s presence in front of her. She didn’t dare close her eyes.

Mamba grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it so hard that he left red marks on her skin when he let go. He grinned again and unzipped his pants.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, alarmed.

“I’ve decided your face needs something after all. A special kind of makeup.”

Mamba pulled his cock out of his pants. The head of his erection was huge and red, with blue veins tracing like vines over the length of it.

Charlotte stared down at the snake he had confronted her with and a wild flush of desire flew through her, startling her. A thought flashed through her mind, a fragment of common sense that was there and then gone nearly in the same second. She hardly recognized it, and didn’t much care for it. She had cast aside all her common sense and was deep, deep in the middle of a conversation between her body and her hand. She didn’t have the time or the means to think, and didn’t see much point in stopping. Besides, Mamba had told her to keep going and she knew not to disobey his orders.

Slowly, she started to move her fingers again, sliding them up and down the length of her clit. The outsides of her fingers brushed over her sopping-wet inner folds with each stroke, adding to the jolts of pleasure that shook through her. A moan rose to her lips and she let it escape.

Mamba stared down at her from above. He lifted one leg and planted his foot on the couch cushion, getting his cock very close to her face. Heat radiated from him. She felt it on her lips. They parted as her breathing sped up; her chest heaved, her breasts jostling up and down. Charlotte started to lean forward, opening her mouth to take him in.

Grabbing a handful of her hair, Mamba swatted her across the face with it and pushed her back on the couch. “No,” he growled.

Undeterred, Charlotte stayed where he had put her and kept rubbing herself. Her hips started to wriggle and writhe. She pushed her fingers lower and inserted two of them into her pussy, reaching as far as she could go. She wriggled them around inside her, exploring the limits of her inner walls. Every press made her gasp and whimper, little cries unlike any sound she had ever made before; they were the whimpering cries of the porn actress in the one video she had watched, the pitiful begs emitted by Katerina.

They were slut-sounds and she was making them. She had never done so before and yet she knew how, as if it was simply part of her to be a slut.

A part of all women, maybe.

Mamba must have liked what he heard. He gripped his cock and jerked his hand up and down over it, frenetic movements that seemed almost painful.

His frenzy spoke to Charlotte on a subconscious level. As his thrusts rocked the couch, she moved with the rhythm, bucking her cunt on her fingers. She thrust harder inside herself, shoving her fingers as deep as they could reach. With every thrust, a spasm rocked through her. A wave of heat gripped her, an alarming quantity of heat that had her skin prickling and her tendons snapping tight.

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