Chapter 6: Compulsion's Crescendo
Rain lashed against the window of Ben’s dorm, streaking the neon LATE NIGHT sign into bleeding smears of pink and blue. He hadn’t seen her in a week, not since he’d walked out of her apartment, his skin crawling with the fear of just what she was capable of and where she might be taking him. He’d silenced his phone, buried himself in textbooks, tried to forget the taste of her and the wild look in her eyes afterwards.
The knock, when it came, was insistent. Three sharp raps that cut through the thrum of the storm.
He knew. Even before he swung the door open and saw her standing there, drenched, he knew he had to face his destiny.
Iris looked like something washed up by the sudden tempest. Her red hair was plastered to her skull, water streaming down her neck, soaking into the thin white cotton of her dress. It was transparent where it clung to her, the dark points of her nipples visible, the shadow of her pubic bone a stark triangle against the fabric. Her green eyes were wide, pupils blown black, not with pleasure but with a frantic, feral need.
“Ben,” she breathed, and it wasn’t a greeting. It was a demand.
She didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed past him, her body wet and cold against his, trailing rainwater on the threadbare carpet. The room smelled of old pizza and weed and him, a scent that now struck her as painfully, stupidly innocent.
“Iris, you’re soaked,” he started, his voice tight. “What are you—”
“Call Alan,” she said. She turned to face him, standing in the center of his room, under the cheap glow of the neon. “Right now.”
He stared at her. The memory of her asking that Alan get involved, flashed like a knife wound. “No. Absolutely not. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Everything,” she said, and her voice cracked. It was the truest thing she’d said all week. Then the mask snapped back into place, harder, colder. “Call him. Or I’ll do it myself and tell him you’re too much of a pussy to watch.”
Her hands went to the hem of her dress. In one swift, violent motion, she pulled it over her head. It landed on the floor with a wet slap. She stood naked before him, skin pebbled with gooseflesh, water droplets dripping from her shaven vulva. The bite mark on her breast was a fading yellow-green galaxy. She was shivering, but her gaze was scorching.
Ben’s mouth went dry. His cock, a traitorous animal, stirred instantly against his jeans. He hated himself for it. “Put your clothes on,” he whispered, the command hollow.
“Make me,” she taunted, her voice dropping low. Her eyes dipped to the bulge in his pants. A cruel, knowing smile touched her lips. “You want to. You want to throw me out. But you won’t. You never do.”
She closed the distance between them. The smell of rain on her skin, the underlying scent of her—musky, female, desperate—flooded his senses. She reached for his phone, which was charging on his nightstand. He caught her wrist. Her skin was cold, her pulse a frantic bird under his thumb.
“Don’t,” he gritted out.
Iris didn’t fight him. Instead, she sank to her knees.
The air left his lungs. She looked up at him, her eyes holding his as her fingers worked his belt buckle open, then his button fly. She pulled his jeans and boxers down to his thighs in one rough yank. His cock sprang free, already stiffening. A bead of precum welled at the tip.
She didn’t touch him with her hands. She leaned forward, her breath hot on his skin, and licked that drop clean with a flat, slow stroke of her tongue. He jerked, a sharp gasp escaping him.
“Call him,” she murmured against his shaft, her lips brushing the sensitized flesh. “While I do this.”
She took him into her mouth, deep, swallowing him to the root in one smooth, practiced motion. Ben’s head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat. It was too much. The wet heat of her, the obscene sight of her red hair against his stomach, the sheer fucking depravity of it. His hands tangled in her wet hair, not to push her away, but to hold her there.
She pulled back, saliva connecting her lips to his glistening cock. “Phone, Alan. Now.”
Her voice was guttural, hungry. She lowered her mouth again, her tongue swirling around the head before she sucked him deep, her cheeks hollowing. One of her hands came up to cup his balls, rolling them gently, then squeezing just enough to make him see stars.
He was lost. He fumbled for the phone, his fingers clumsy. He pulled up Alan’s contact—a guy from his stats class, a friendly, loud-mouthed jock who’d always eyed Iris with open appreciation. He hit call, putting it on speaker.
It rang once. Twice.
Iris pulled off his cock with a wet pop, her eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. She stood up, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed and he sat down hard.
Alan answered. “Benny! What’s up, man?”
Before Ben could speak, Iris was on him. She shoved him flat onto his back, the cheap mattress squeaking in protest. She straddled his face, her thighs clamping around his head, the damp, musky scent of her cunt overwhelming him. He could see the slick, pink folds glistening inches from his mouth.
“Iris, what—” Alan’s voice crackled from the phone on the pillow.
“It’s not Ben,” Iris said, her voice breathy. She lowered herself onto Ben’s mouth, grinding her swollen pussy against his lips. “It’s Iris.”
A stunned silence, then a choked laugh. “No shit. Hi, Iris. Where’s Ben?”
“Under me,” she moaned, and Ben felt her against his tongue. She was soaked, her arousal tangy and thick. He couldn’t help himself. His tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe through her folds. She cried out, her hips bucking. “He’s eating my cunt while I talk to you.”
“Holy fuck,” Alan breathed, the sound of his voice shifting, like he was sitting up, getting interested.
Iris rode Ben’s face with a frantic, demanding rhythm. She held his head in place, her fingers gripping his hair. “I need you to come over, Alan. Right now.”
“Yeah? What for?”
Ben licked and sucked, his nose buried in her, his own need a painful throb between his legs. He was a participant and a spectator, cursed to feel every shudder of pleasure that wracked her while hearing this unfold.
“Ben’s going to watch,” Iris panted, her words punctuated by gasps as Ben’s tongue found her clit. “He’s going to sit in that chair and watch while you fuck me. I want you to use me, Alan. I want you to bend me over this bed and fuck my pussy until I scream. Then I want you to come in me while Ben watches. Then I want one of you to lick it clean.”
Ben stiffened beneath her, a wave of excited, degrading arousal. He tried to turn his head, but she clenched her thighs, trapping him.
Alan’s chuckle was dark, excited. “You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Iris hissed, the word dripping with defiance and relief. “Yes, I am. Tell me.”
“You’re a fucking filthy slut, Iris. And I’m gonna treat you like one.”
“I want your cock in my ass,” she continued, her voice rising, her hips grinding harder against Ben’s mouth. Her juices were smeared across his chin, his nose. “I want you to spit on it and push it in while Ben watches my face. I want him to see me take every inch. I want you to call me his little whore while you do it.”
Ben felt her body tighten, her inner muscles fluttering around his probing tongue. She was close. The phone call, the graphic fantasy, his helpless participation—it was all pushing her to the edge.
“I’m on my way,” Alan said, his voice rough. “Keep her warm for me, Benny.”
The call disconnected.
The silence that followed was broken only by Iris’s ragged breaths and the wet sounds of Ben’s mouth working on her. Then her whole body seized. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat as she came, bucking wildly against his face, her cunt pulsing, a hot flood of release coating his lips and tongue.
She collapsed forward, her hands braced on the wall above his head, shuddering through the aftershocks. Slowly, she lifted herself off him.
Ben stared up at her, his face glistening with her. He felt used. Destroyed. But hornier than he’d ever been in his life.
Iris looked down at him, her expression joyous. The frantic light that lit up her eyes, left him feeling he was staring to understand the depth of her need.