The Female Price of Male Pleasure

As chance would have it, both women were equally unwilling to share the finer details of their personal interactions with Marshal.

"Look, maybe this was a bad idea. You don't have to believe me if you don't want to; I had merely thought that if we got to meet me in person then you'd realize that my sole motivation was to help you."

"Yes, you'd have me believe that you're an altruist who just wants to help people, except that it's never in the manner that they want to be helped."

Lori fumed with indignant anger. She just wanted to help this poor woman and the thanks that she got in return were snide remarks about her character?

"Wow, clearly you two are perfect for one another," she spat as she wrote down his address. "Hopefully this will show you that I'm not acting out of spite or malice towards Marshal, and if you're really so hellbent on continuing with this mistake that you're making then don't say that I didn't warn you."

Tracey felt her hands shaking as she held his address; at long last she'd get to see him again. And by the time she returned home, she had received dozens of additional messages which belittled her intent and viciously attacked Marshal.

"If you promise to shut him up for good then I'll tell you where he lives," said one. "You poor thing... why on earth would you ever want to see that pitiful man? Believe me, with a little self-respect you could do so much better than him," said another. And best of all... "If you can't understand why you shouldn't see him then please allow me to pay for your therapy."

Of course it didn't matter what any of them said; she had spent enough time with him to form her own conclusion, and the dissenting views or opinions of others weren't going to be enough to dissuade her.

And so with her decision made it wasn't all that long before the address eventually brought her to a relatively isolated area on the outskirts of the city. Oddly enough, she felt a familiar sense of dread course through her as her demons tormented her with wave after wave of all worst possible outcomes, and the anxiety reminded her of one of her old rituals: reciting to herself what they told her to do. If he wants you to be happy, then act happy. If he wants you to be sad, then act sad. She couldn't help but snicker to herself; happy or sad, this time around she was going to act however she damn well pleased.

She looked at herself in the car view mirror as she felt her heart pounding; she wore a little bit of mascara but otherwise only a small amount of makeup. Not only was it easier that way, but she also couldn't shake off the impression that Marshal preferred a more 'natural' look. She still couldn't believe she was actually doing what she was doing, and a small part of her was suspicious of Lori. What if she gave her the address of human traffickers? She didn't think it was likely but in this day in age who could really know for certain?

Trying to go for a classy and elegant look, she wore a black dress, but thought that she might be overdoing it a bit when she saw Marshal's supposed residence; just like his physical appearance, it was underwhelming and easy to miss. Regardless, she still felt herself perk up as she walked to the door, not all that surprised that her anxiety had transitioned to a state of exhilaration and excitement.

She tried ringing the doorbell, but didn't get a response. After a minute or so she tried knocking, but still there was no response. Just as she was about to leave and give up on her quest, the door opened a small crack. "What do you want?" a familiar voice hissed from the other side.

"I want you."

She had one thing and one thing only on her mind as she forced the door open and pounced. He went down rather easily, and with zealous fervor she wasted no time removing any barrier that got in the way of what she wanted. And in that moment she felt truly free; she was doing exactly what she wanted to do and when she wanted to do it. All those times he made her laugh, all those times he made her cry, the way he had looked at her with lust that was as passionate as it was restrained... all these memories flashed before her, and now she wanted one thing and one thing only; she wanted him inside of her. Needed him to be inside of her.

Not wearing anything underneath her dress, she slid herself on top of him, happy that he was part of her at last. For in that moment she felt a connection to someone that she had never felt before, almost as if they were the same person. As she felt his hands wandering upwards a bit she decided that she wanted to be the one in control, and so she used the weight of her body to pin his arms to the side, as she continued riding to and fro with her hips. Doing what felt naturally to her and further encouraged by his groans, she increased the intensity of her movements, simply because it felt good and that's what she wanted to do.

And of course, ill-prepared for the sudden assault and intense stimulation that came out of nowhere, it felt like mere seconds before he came inside of her. Positively delighted with her achievement, she subsided with the rocking motion while still keeping him inside of her.

"Marshal?" she asked. When no response was forthcoming she became a bit worried, and promptly checked for breathing. Realizing that he must be suffering from a stoic and non-responsive state of shock, she decided use the opportunity to lean forward and whisper into his ear. "I know you can hear me, Marshal, so I want you to listen to me very carefully. If you ever try telling others about what happened just now -- like by sharing this experience to a female support group where you try and sell yourself as a 'victim' who was 'raped' -- then I will personally hunt you down and make sure that you wished that you were dead."

Chapter 9

Marshal woke up with a long, drawn out sigh, cringing at the thought of enduring yet another day of his tortured existence. His head was groggy and the details of the previous night were blurred. My god... how much did I have to drink last night? he thought. He began splashing water on his face when he heard a sound from downstairs, which was accompanied by a brief flashback of the previous night. Tracey? he wondered.

As he walked into the kitchen he couldn't help but witness a scene in which Tracey was standing on her tippy-toes. The reaching movement made her butt wobble a bit, and it reminded him of how short women were always so adorable when they tried reaching for items that were just out of their reach. Not one to help others when they were in need, he left her to her struggle and opened the fridge.

"Is there a reason why you threw out all of the beer?" he calmly asked. It was very mysterious how dozens of Bourbon County Stouts, Mephistopheles Stouts and Trappistes Rochefort Number 8's had all suddenly vanished.

"How disappointing," she replied. "This whole time I was thinking that I'd get free reign to do whatever I wanted to you and without question."

"Well, I just don't know about the 'without question' part," he replied. "After all, curiosity can often be the most trying of all mistresses to satiate."

"Says the guy who's never even had a mistress?" she asked.

Afraid that she was getting the upper hand, he decided to bluff with a more daring approach. "Such a dangerous game that you're playing here... do you really think you're up for it?" he challenged.

"Please, I was already briefed by that little 'fan club' of yours. It seems like you've made quite the name for yourself."

"My fan club?" he asked. "Oh right, of course," he said as he quickly connected the dots. "So that's how you were able to find me." He couldn't help but be very pleased with himself; for Marshal there was no greater compliment than when multiple women wanted to come together for the sole purpose of talking about him.

"And honestly, I really don't know what all the fuss was about. After all, it was all too easy for me to waltz into your home, have my way with you and toss out your most prized possessions."

Marshal couldn't believe what he was hearing; of all people she had decided to treat him as if he was some type of special achievement. And just as he was beginning to feel unworthy of the very esteemed consideration that she extended him, he decided that he shouldn't jump to any premature conclusions until he could determine just how serious she was being.

And so, for the first time ever he mustered the confidence to walk up close to her. "So you're really not going to tell me why you threw out all the beer?" he asked again.

"What would be the point?" she slyly replied. "It's not as if you'd ever be capable of punishing me."

He thought that the mischievous grin on her face and the teasing manner in which she had answered his question with another question was most telling, though he still had to know for sure. Half expecting that she was going to recoil or otherwise push his hand away, he used the back of his fingers to gently stroke the side of her face.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

It suddenly occurred to Tracey that this was the very first time that he had initiated physical contact with her, and not wanting to deter the potential for future advances, she caressed his hand with her own before guiding one of his fingers to her lips. Excited and feeling adventurous, she looked straight at him as she licked his finger and placed it in her mouth, where she continued to roll over it with her tongue while sucking softly.

Marshal desperately wanted to relax and enjoy the moment, but couldn't. Other parts of him were so insanely jealous of that finger that all he could think about was just how cruel, vicious and unfair life was.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Is everything okay?"

He could feel his heart pounding rapidly and his breathing increase, almost as if he desperately needed air.

"I don't know," he tried telling her. "I just..." it was difficult for him to continue because at that moment she leaned in and kissed him. He was at a loss of words... her lips felt so soft and warm against his own, and while involuntary moans escaped him, he hadn't even realized that she had pulled slightly back so that she could take her shirt off. Oh god, he thought as he started to panic.

Topless women always had a tremendously negative reaction to anything that he told them, which was part of the reason why he felt that women were so strange. Virtually nothing they could say could make him upset, and yet at the same time, any little thing he told them always sent them into tantrums. I love you, marry me, I'll do anything for you... such a shame that it was so difficult for Marshal to think of anything else.

After the kissing resumed she had placed a hand on his chest, which started moving downward. Afraid that anything he could say would only upset her, he didn't quite trust himself to tell her to stop or that it wasn't what he wanted. After reaching his stomach her hand moved downward again before he let out a loud gasp when her hand found moisture.

Not only was he embarrassed that all the pre-ejactulate had left him soaking wet, but he was also embarrassed for being so extremely sensitive to even the slightest of touches that beautiful women extended him. Literally, all it took was a mere half-stroke on her part before the sudden abruptness of it all made him feel like he needed to apologize.

"Sorry. It's just... I'm not..."

She placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him.

"Shhh," she hushed. "There's no need for you to apologize or explain yourself. It's perfectly okay."

It irritated him that she would have such a smug look on her face... was she really treating his body's response as if it was some type of special achievement for her?

She nuzzled his chest, just happy to be with him. "I have a feeling that you and I are going places," she purred.