Buying the Virgin

Chapter 98: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Fourteen



Chapter 98: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Fourteen

Shaking his head, My Master laughs. “No, I’m perfectly serious. We had one piece of work, a test-

piece, writing the program for solving an equation by iteration. It meant breaking down the steps and

individually punching the cards. It took me hours. Then my ‘friend’ decided to nudge my elbow and I

dropped the lot. They scattered everywhere…. I had to do the whole thing again.”

“Couldn’t you just sort them back into order?”

He rolls his eyes to the heavens. “Imagine trying to sort out a pack of playing cards, but there’s no

pictures, just holes in the cards giving you a code for what the picture is…”

I burst out laughing. “It puts my problems into perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, it does,” he says, smiling, then his face turns serious. “Listen, Charlotte. I came down here

because there’s something I need to talk to you about…”

He sounds worried.

“Master?”

“I’ve been talking with Will Stanton. He’s concerned that with you giving evidence against the

traffickers, but some of them still being at large, you may be…. at risk....”

“I know that. But I took it on board when I agreed to help…”

“Yes, but….” He is clearly uncomfortable about what he has to say. “……. they would like you to stay

close by for the moment, so you can have protection.”

His meaning begins to penetrate. “Close by? You mean, here? They don’t want me to go back to the

University?”

“That’s right.”

“But I can’t not go back. I’d miss lectures. I’d get behind on my work…. After everything I did to get

there….”

“We’ll sort out some other arrangements,” he says. “I don’t want you away from here until this whole

thing is sorted out, one way or another.”

“But Master, I got to go back.”

“No, Charlotte. You don’t. I don’t want you to go. And you’re not going, for now at least. And that’s the

end of it. I expect you to obey me in this….”

I look away, swallowing hard.

“Was that a yes?”

He holds my chin, making me look him in the eye.

“Is that a yes?” he repeats. “You will not try to return to the University until we have made

arrangements for you to be safe?”

I don’t speak. I try changing the subject.

I eye him.

He hesitates. “What’s that look for?”

“I thought I was going to be sexually harassed? I’m not feeling very harassed so far….”

“Is that right? I might just push this door closed and spread you on the desk….”

I can’t suppress my grin, nor he. I see the slant to his eye. He knows that I’m trying to distract him, but

he goes for it.

We stare at each other, neither looking away. Clicking the door locked behind him, he stands over me,

then grabbing me by the wrists, pulls me upright and into his embrace.

Kicking the chair away from behind me, he pushes me up against the wall, pulling my arms above my

head. I slam backwards, he, grabbing a fistful of my hair. My hands flat against the plaster, I

accidentally bang the light switch, which blinks on, then off once more as my fingers knock it off

again…

Leaning in close to me, he presses my wrists tight against the wall. “Don’t move,” he mutters. “You

want harassment? Let’s see what we can do…”

Carefully, so as not to disturb the order of anything, he lifts my books and notes from the desk, placing

them on a bookshelf, then places my laptop next to them.

The desk cleared, he seizes me again by the wrists, swinging me around, pushing me rearwards down

onto the desk. All but atop me, still stretching my arms over my head, he presses me down at the chest

with the heel of his hand. “Are you going to stay like that, or do I have to tie you?”

My breath juddering. “I’ll stay, Master.”

There’s a gleam in his eye as he pushes my skirt upwards around my waist, displaying my panties,

already staining dark with my arousal.

He stands up straight, taking off his jacket. “Now,” he says, looking down, dark-eyed at me, “Do I lick

you out first, or just fuck you where you lie….?”

“…. Too good an opportunity to miss….” he continues. Then, kneeling at the end of the desk, between

my legs, he swings my feet over onto his shoulders, pressing his face into my panties. I hear him

breathing in, scenting me, his face nuzzling against me. His fingers slide behind the fabric, scissoring

open my lips, presenting my clit to his teeth as he nibbles at me through the fabric.

I squeal and buck. Immediately he stands, removing his tie. Binding my wrists together with the tie, he

stretches my arms back down the desk, attaching the other end of the tie to the desk legs. Then,

quickly pulling my panties down, he stuffs them into my mouth. “Exciting as it might be, this is not the

place to start making noises and get caught in flagrante…”

Then he resumes his position, kneeling between my legs.

Now, with free access to me, he pulls open my lips and pussy, double-handedly, stretching me wide,

the thumb of one hand pushing back the sheath of my clit. For a moment or so, he pauses, breathing

warm over my exposed sex, then, very delicately, he traces the outline of my clit with the tip of his

tongue.

Trying hard to remain still, to remain quiet; nonetheless, I moan through my stuffed mouth, my hips

shivering and jerking.

He continues his work, lapping at my twitching bud, sending sweet pleasure stabbing through me.

Continuously working me, he slips a finger into my pussy, which clutches at him in response, then a

second finger, and a third.

Now with his mouth wrapped around my clit, he sucks at me, circling all the time with his tongue, and

the fingers rub up inside me at my sweet spot. My spiral up to climax is rapid, and the juddering of my

hips quickly turns to the pangs of orgasm, blooming out in a slow vibrating wave from my fluttering

pussy. It flows in waves, over my thighs, my belly, to wash over my calves and ankles, breasts and

neck.

As I arch and cry out, muffled through my gag. He plants his mouth over my pussy, fucking me with his

tongue, swiping around the inner muscles as I spasm and gush into his mouth.

As I relax, he rises, unbelts, unzips and releases his erection. Leaning over and into me, he plunges in

deep. Lying atop me, thrusting hard, he pulls the pants from my mouth, kissing me hard, open-

mouthed, then claps his hand over my lips.

I want to move with him, to take him into me more deeply, but my position is awkward, feet dangling

over the end of the desk, and I can gain no traction. Instead, I must simply lie here, passive as he fucks

me.

His eyes meet with mine, and he smiles a bright, white grin before, teeth clenched, he groans, and Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

head dropping to my chest, he presses hard against me, juddering as he spills inside me.

He lies still, when outside, in the corridor, is the sound of a vacuum cleaner. Quickly, he stands,

rezipping and re-belting, then unties me, and while I adjust my clothes, he replaces my papers and

laptop on the desktop.

Just as we both sit, either side of the desk, my Master’s eyes crinkling in amusement, there is the

sound of a key in the lock, and the cleaner opens the door. “Oh, sorry Charlotte,” she says. “I’d not

realised you were still in here. I’ll come back later shall I?”

“No, it’s alright. I was just finishing for the night.”

I close my laptop, ready to leave, but I still have my problem.

Not to go back to University?

*****

Waiting for my Master to finish talking with Richard, again I wait out in Reception, reading a textbook.

I should set up a tent here….

My Master sees me through the internal window, tapping a ‘Five minutes’ signal on his watch to me.

And now, Daniel is here again, standing over me. “Hello again, Charlotte. Our paths seem fated to

cross.”

Truly uncomfortable with him now, I shuffle up the couch, trying to distance myself from this intrusive

man. “Hello, Daniel,” I say, head-pointing into my Master’s office. “I’m waiting for James. If you’re

looking for him, he’s in with Richard.”

He ignores my words, instead glancing over at my book, mouthing words to himself….’Computational

Fluid Dynamics…’ Those are long words, wouldn’t you say?”

Needled; “No, I don’t think so. Patronisation; that’s a long word, I would say.”

He fails to take the hint, continuing blithely on. “I wondered if you’d thought again about coming out with

me?”

“No, I told you. I’m not interested.”


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