Unknown - Charity Ball

Griffith took a look around the room.

“Aren’t you going to close the door?” Morrigana said, burning the end of a cigarette with a fizzing matchstick. “Give us some privacy.”

“So soon?”

“Thought I might as well get it over with. Do you want me to record our conversation?”

“No. I think my memory will do.”

“Constance thinks the pearls might be fakes. Did she tell you that already?”

“Do you?”

“Don’t know. I’ve only seen them once or twice. Constance never wears them.”

Morrigana blew out a trail of cigarette fumes toward Griffith’s face. “Mind if I smoke?”

“You know what you like. What were the occasions upon which you viewed the pearls?”

“Going through some of her things-you know, rummaging through her clothing-”

“You’re her secretary?”

“Oh. More like a-her advisor. On literary matters. But, yes-we do have a bit of a personal relationship as well.”

“Going through each other’s clothing.”

“Something few men could understand. I have been with Constance for a number of years.”

“And she seems to find you trustworthy. After all, she did have you call my office to set up this appointment. You didn’t jack that assignment around. You had no hesitation meeting me at the door before. All obvious signs-says to me that you’re innocent. But I gotta go through this routine for the record. Think she lost them?”

“Misplaced them-I hope.”

“Want to show me around this office here? Library, study-whatever you call it.”

“Of course.”

Morrigana smirked.

Slid from her seat.

Sucked the cig real hard.

Blew out a scarf of smoke through her wide grin.

“Let’s do a few turns,” Morrigana said. “Tell me where you want to look first.”

“Under your skirt,” Griffith blurted.

“Is that your idea of flirting?”

“It’s called a joke.”

“Only if it’s funny.”

“How’s looking where she keeps the money?”

“Safe,” Morrigana said smoothly. “I can open it for you. Underneath the desk here.”

Morrigana hunkered down to the floor.

Griffith inspected the crack of her ass as she bent forward and twiddled with the knobs on the front of the file-drawer-sized metal box. The material of her dress was gauzy enough to show off not only that she wore no underpants but also the wooly contours of her pubic flocculence erupting from underneath her rump.

Griffith saw her hips pump.

She grunted once.

The door to the safe sighed open.

“Get down, Griffith. Look inside.”

Griffith stewed in his groin.

Shot a finger to his nuts. To loosen them up.

Got down beside her like a pup.

“Sure enough,” he said. “Lots of bucks. Few little trinkets-diamonds, emeralds.”

“But no pearls.”

“Why did she keep them with her lingerie? If she kept her other jewels in here-”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Morrigana’s breath was thick as a fog.

Hot as a hog in rut.

But yet Griffith knew she was no slut.

He said, “Thought maybe you’d know. Being so close to Constance and all.”

“We’re friends. But not that close.”

She threw her head back haughtily.

“Watch your noggin,” Griffith said as Morrigana’s head bumped the underside of the overhanging desk.

He brought his palm up to cup the back of Morrigana’s head.

“It’s okay,” Morrigana said. She paused a long second. “But you can kiss it to make it better.”

Griffith wettened his lips with his tongue. Brought Morrigana’s head forward.

Applied a kiss to the point of her skull.

As Morrigana’s head dropped straight into his lap.

He sucked the back of her brain through her waved tresses. She sucked his cock through the seam of his trousers.

The zip released his prong with a zinging sound. Griffith felt the wetness descend from the crown to the top of his scrotum.

Morrigana’s tongue rotated about the tip.

Then she suckered the entire shaft of Griffith’s dick into her yip.

She held the dong firmly in her grip.

As though to prevent him from giving her the slip. Her hands tightened about the neck.

Prickhead popped out wider beneath her eyes.

Increasing in size with the ingestion of pulses of the thick blood of erection.

“Help me come off,” Morrigana wheezed. “I’m dying for an orgasm.”

“Will it make your day?”

“My hour, anyway.”

“Let’s hope.”

“Reach back into the safe. Way in the back. Feel it? It’s leather and-”

“Lace,” Griffith said, whisking the mask out into her face.

“Tie it on me.”

“Don’t you want to see me?”

“I want it to be dark.”

“But-”

“I want to see. Of course. But it’s more romantic if I want to and I can’t.”

“Sure. Here goes.”

“Yesss. Slide it on over my head. Make sure my eyes are covered.”

“It’s loose enough-”

“No. Tight.”

“This all right?”

“Uh huh. Now do the rest.”

Griffith grappled with her dress.

Hiked it over her hiney.

Morrigana lifted it over her breasts.

“Now the other accoutrements,” Morrigana seared through her lips. “You’ll find them in with the other valuables, lover.”

Griffith reached into the interior of the safe. Pulled out twined strips of leather with lace dangles on either end.

Morrigana wrapped her wrists together behind her back. Whined aloud.

“Tie them, please,” she breathed.

“Tight, I take it.”

“Yesss. So sweet.”

Morrigana pumped the crack of her rump into the air at Griffith. Shot her heels out, wiggled her toes, and crossed her ankles.

Griffith began to wrap Morrigana’s feet with two lengths of the braided leather twine.

Griffith rolled Morrigana out from underneath the fruitwood desk. Trussed her wrists with a strand. of twine down the split of her behind, running it to her tied ankles.

“You want me to bend you like a pretzel,” Griffith said. “That it?”

“Aaaaah, yesss,” Momgana slathered. “The best. Give me the best.”

“There’s another mask in here. Want me to wear it? It’s got eyeholes.”

“Yes. Put on the black mask. So you can see me. But I can’t recognize you.”

“You won’t be able to recognize me anyway, with that blindfold mask on you.”

“It’s the thought that counts. And I’m thinking of your cock. In my cunt. At me front and back and all over.”

“Stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

“Inside me. Stick your prick inside me. Fuck my mouth. Fuck my ass. Fuck my cunt.”

“That all?”

“Fuck me quickly.”

“In which order?”

“Take a spin.”

Griffith slashed his pelvis in an arc. His prick speared clear into something.

He felt her body open up.

His thick prick jerked right up her ass with a rutting shudder.

Morrigana felt her clit stutter.

Griffith pulled his twanger from her backside slowly. With no additional lubrication, Morrigana’s ass mucus had proved too little to offset the friction.

“No!” came Morrigana’s harrowing scream.

“Shhhhh. I just want to pack my pecker with a little liquid from your slit.

Then I’ll go right back in.”

“But I want it to hurt so much,” Morrigana said. “So that it ruptures to the touch.”

“Sorry. Too late.”

Griffith struck up inside her cunthide. The lips spread apart.

His legs spread athwart her hips.

Morrigana’s bound wrists jacked Griffith off as he fucked her from behind.

The twine about her ankles scraped his ballocks as she crushed into them with her heels.

“Now hit me,” Morrigana said.