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Renfri is already smirking when the camera gives a soft beep to indicate that the recording has begun, and Eskel grins when she gives a little wave.
“I have a new friend today,” he says, voice drifting into something just off his usual register. He never really chose to do it, to speak a little lower and softer on camera, but it happened naturally when he was first starting out, and he never bothered to try and correct it. “New to me, at least – ” technically a lie, but only a white one, “ – some of you might already know her. For the ones who don’t: what’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her answer of, “Renfri,” is all simper, despite how her cheeks turned pink when he called her sweetheart. She waves at the camera again, too, cheekier this time, and Eskel finds himself rolling his eyes and chuckling.
“Tell the audience a bit about yourself, Renfri.”
She hums thoughtfully, and while he considers, he steps away from the camera and grabs his mask, pulling it on and making sure it’s sitting properly. If it slips during the scene it’s not the worst thing, but he always prefers to keep the scars covered on camera. He can’t really say if it’s to avoid being recognized, or if it’s something else entirely, and he’s never stopped to think about it too deeply – now, with the camera rolling and Renfri sitting in front of it looking shockingly fetching for how much she definitely isn’t trying, is hardly the time to start.
“Hm, like what?” she finally asks, leaning forward and putting her elbow on her knee just to prop her chin on her hand. It’s a move that makes her look almost innocent, somehow, with the wide eyes and raised brows, but also it gives the camera a fantastic shot of her tits in the mockery of a dress she’s wearing.
Eskel muffles a snort. It’s not news to him that she’s good, but it is different seeing it in real time than watching her videos, or even the test-runs they’d done without the camera, and he finds himself a little taken aback at how much the separation of the screen genuinely obscures her talent.
Renfri’s wide-eyed, questioning expression melts into something very different, then, lips quirking into a smirk. “We talking like a dating profile? I’m twenty-seven, I like cats and long walks on the beach….”
Her gaze flickers from the camera and to him, and that smirk widens into a mischievous little grin when she finds him rolling his eyes at her. “Or do you want something a bit more real?”
She leans further forward with the emphasis, shifting her arms so her cleavage immediately becomes the star of the show, and for a moment, he allows himself to be distracted about it.
He’s perfectly allowed to be taken by her, after all – it’s sort of the point. As much as this is, technically, a professional thing for both of them, the point of their smaller-scale, homemade videos is very much the chemistry, the intimacy, that is usually missing from larger-production porn.
Besides, he generally won’t film with anyone he doesn’t genuinely have a sexual interest in, and well – Renfri had passed that test, during their discussions and, ah, practicing, with flying colors. To say the least.
“Whatever you want to tell the audience, sweetheart,” he finally answers, and then he’s double-checking the camera angle one more time before he circles around and steps into frame from the side, making sure he won’t obscure the view it’s got of her.
He hopes the camera catches how the impishness in her expression drains away, leaving nothing except genuine delight, as he reaches her and bends down to kiss her. If it doesn’t, though, he knows it’ll catch the grin on his face and the way she reaches up to drag him closer.
And the way she tries to follow, when he breaks the kiss and pulls away. His grin just widens, and he turns to sprawl onto the couch next to her, opening his arms in invitation. She takes it immediately, clambering into his lap without hesitation, and he rewards her for it with another kiss before he’s getting his hands around her waist to manhandle her back around, so instead of facing him she’s facing the camera again, still straddling his lap.
She yelps, a little, at the movement, and then giggles, shifting her legs so she’s more sitting on his lap with them splayed open than kneeling and straddling him. Once she’s settled, she leans back against his chest, and he wraps one arm around her waist, turning to kiss her cheek.
“Hello,” she murmurs, definitely more for him than the camera, and he smiles, leaning just a bit more forward to kiss at the corner of her mouth.
“Hello,” he replies, and then, a little louder, “now then. Be a good girl and tell the audience about yourself, hm?”
She gasps quietly, gripping his arm where it’s resting against her belly. “Yes, Sir,” she says, and he turns his head to nuzzle at her ear, humming in approval that’s meant for her and only her.
“I’m Renfri, I’m twenty seven,” she says, and then, with a gasp that sounds incredibly fake to him, “oops, already said that.”
He chuckles, but pinches at her side just hard enough to make her squeak. She giggles, then breathes out, “Sorry, Sir,” entirely lacking any real contrition before she continues.
“I lied about the long walks on the beach,” she says. “but I do like pussies. …oh, and cats.”
He snorts, but rewards her with a sucking kiss to the soft spot just under her ear, shifting to splay his hand over her belly and pull her tighter against him. It also serves a secondary purpose of showing the camera exactly how much bigger than her he is, his thumb resting just between her pretty tits and his pinky flirting with her barely-visible pantyline.
She squirms a little, at that, gasping when she feels the very obvious bulge of his cock under her ass. He just grins against her neck and mouths at that little spot again.
“I also like men twice my size and being fucked until I cry, though. Seems like it’s my lucky day.”
“It just might be, if you can behave,” he replies, giving an exaggerated wink to the camera. “Wanna tell them what we have planned today?”
He has no idea if the camera catches it, but he can feel how she tenses, just slightly, and immediately he’s on edge, anticipating her calling for a stop.
This video – this scene, and it is a scene, properly, just a little different since it’s also at least partially a performance – had been her idea. But because it had been her idea, and because, being a real scene, they had discussed it fairly extensively beforehand, he knows very well that this is…not really pushing a boundary, for her, but toeing the line of discomfort, just a little.
It had been why she’d sought him out, actually, why she’d wanted to do a collaboration – not for anything to do with popularity or sales, though those would also benefit, but because she’d heard good things about him as a Dom, not just an artist, through the grapevine, and she wanted to try something.
And, even aside from his usual requirements for testing chemistry – which is to say, fucking off camera, no performance, nothing except testing the waters and getting to know one another – they’ve run through iterations of the scene before. For his comfort and hers, really; and those had gone well – surprisingly well, actually, considering how new they were to one another – but, well.
The camera changes things. Even if they scrap the footage and never post it – recording it, turning it into a performance, it makes it different.
When she hasn’t continued, either to start explaining the scene or to give the word, he carefully strokes his hand from her belly to her throat and then back down, making a mental note on where he might have to cut the footage, just in case the recording doesn’t get scrapped. He nuzzles against her cheek and then turns his head, kissing along the shell of her ear, all of it meant to be comfort first and foremost.
“Color?” he asks, a prompt, because he noticed, in the first few test runs of this, that she tended to get a little wrapped up in her head – not unable to safeword, but not really thinking past herself to actually do it, not without a reminder.
She sucks in a breath, turning her head to sort of rest her forehead against his. The angle is bad, she can’t really do that, and his mask is in the way, but he understands the gesture all the same. “Yellow-green,” she says, and he smiles, nudging his nose against hers.
“Good girl, thank you,” he says, and repeats the sort of petting motion up and down her front, using it to pull her tighter to his chest, reassuring pressure. After a moment of that, she lets go of the tension his original question had caused, relaxing back down into him and letting him take her full weight. “Is it saying it, or just saying it to the camera – the audience?”
She takes another breath, slower and more careful this time, and lets it out with the same care. “To them,” she answers, but the end of it hitches strangely, and even without asking he knows why – the I’m still not quite used to saying it to you, either, isn’t something she’s said to him in so many words, but it’s well-established. This is the first time they’re on camera together, the first time his audience will see her – at least in context with him – but again, it’s not the first time they’ve done this. He wouldn’t ever do something like this on camera without at least one test run, and when it comes to things that actually have set dynamics, proper scenes versus things that are a bit more natural, he usually insists on more than one.
They’re far from an established pair, but by the nature of doing this, he knows her fairly well despite it. Her and her hangups, because if he didn’t, it would just be irresponsible.
And, again: it had, from the very start, been her idea – that, plus the fact that he knows how the camera changes things, how knowing there might be an audience makes these kinds of things a little harder, well. He’d all but expected her to struggle with it, to have to stop and rearrange, or just stop entirely.
“Alright,” he says, entirely neutral. “Do you want to try, or do you want me to explain it instead?”
She clearly thinks about that, humming softly, and he just lets her, rubbing their noses together again and continuing to pet from her throat to her belly and back, gentle and steady. After a few beats, though, she nods decisively.
“You?” she says, and the inflection turns it into a question, but he knows it’s more than she’s trying to soften the statement, trying not to make it a demand.
Which, he knows, is the reason for this, the scene they’ve planned out: getting her to say what she wants, to not soften her requests with questions or deflection onto him.
So far, trying it out beforehand, the closest she’s gotten is turning it from a question of will you to a plea, begging instead, but – it is progress, from both his own knowledge and what she’s told him, when they’ve gone over the scenes afterward.
That’s fine, though – it’s not like begging will go amiss, as far as a recording, and if she does manage to turn any of it into a demand, now, well. Even better, as far as he’s concerned.
He drags his hand up further on the next pass, cupping her jaw and turning her head a little more toward him, leaning forward to match until he can kiss her. The position puts strain on the both of them, though, so he keeps the kiss short, if not chaste.
When he breaks it, he prods her gently back into the position she’d been in before, and settles his hand on her belly again, making another mental note on where he’ll have to edit. With a little skill, he should be able to make it look like there’s no cut – which is more important for preserving Renfri’s comfort and privacy, than anything else.
If anyone buying his videos wants to complain about obvious jumps or editing in his videos, well, they’re fucking delusional. He’s not worried about it.
“Do you think you can behave for me?” he asks, after a beat. It’s a variation on the script they’d laid out and discussed, but it’s not one she’s unfamiliar with – he’s just lifted it from a different, but similar, scene.
True to his expectations, she rolls with it spectacularly well, humming and answering, “Yes, Sir.” It’s almost a little chirp, and the positions of their heads and his mask make it hard, but he thinks that impish little smirk is back on her lips.
He grins and moves his hand up again, resting it over her throat and delighting in how he can feel her pulse jump with the pressure.
“Good girl,” he praises, and she makes a soft little noise, squirming and rocking her ass against his cock. “We’re playing pretty tame today,” he continues, after a moment, “I’m going to do whatever I want to my gorgeous girl here, and she,” he turns his head to mouth at her jaw, leaving off with a little bite, “only gets something if she tells me she wants it, exactly.”
Renfri squirms again, but it’s full of anticipation, her hands curling tight around his side and his thigh, respectively. He grins and uses his fingers framing her jaw to tip her head to the side, dropping a trail of kisses along the arch of her throat, feeling the flush that’s spilled from her face down.
His body is responding to her clear enthusiasm in kind, and he revels in the needy little whine she gives when he gets his hand on her hip to pull her back into the shift of his, grinding his mostly-hard cock against her ass through their clothes.
“S-Sir,” she gasps, after a few heartbeats of that, “please.”
“Hm. Please?” he prods. “Please what, sweetheart? You know you have to tell me, like I just told them.”
She whines again, but it’s more petulant this time. He smothers a chuckle and bites at her jaw instead, a mild reprimand. “Clothes,” she finally spits, and he hums questioningly, almost able to hear her pout as he does. “Don’t – don’t want to be dressed.”
“Ah,” he says, as if he didn’t know exactly what she meant by clothes in the first place. “You want to show off, hm?”
She shivers, nails digging into him through his clothes, and he nuzzles at her neck before biting his way down it.
“Tell me, is that it?” he asks, when she still hasn’t answered a moment later. “You want to show off for the camera, sweetheart?”
She sucks in a stuttering breath at that, arching slightly to press her throat closer to his mouth. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He grinds against her ass one more time, then starts gently prodding her off of his lap. “Go on, then, up. Lose that dress for me.”
Dress is probably giving it too much credit, really; it’s not much more than a wickedly short tube of skin-tight, elastic fabric, with laughably thin straps over her shoulders that give the illusion of holding it up. Compared to him, in his usual jeans and layered shirts, plus the mask, she’s practically already undressed.
But showing more skin – especially hers, pretty and flushed pink with heat and anticipation – would never go amiss. Even if he wasn’t filming.
He sits back on the couch, then, letting his legs splay wide to show the obscene bulge in his jeans, and allows himself to just appreciate for a moment. Most of the show is going on for the camera, as Renfri beds to lift the bottom hem of her dress and starts shimmying it up and off, but as nice as her front is – and it is extremely nice – her backside is just as pleasant to look at.
Especially when her round ass is framed so perfectly by the lacy panties that match the barely-there bralette that the camera is seeing right now. He makes a low noise of appreciation, and grins when she looks back at him over her shoulder, cheeks flushed an even darker pink than the rest of her. She tosses the barely-there slip of fabric masquerading as a dress at him, as if in reprimand, and he just grins and catches it, dripping his hand to his lap and rolling his hips up slow and deliberate, as if he’s grinding his cock against it and not just the inside of his own underwear.
Her cheeks flush even darker, and his grin just widens. He lifts his free hand and traces a little circle in the air with his index finger, still grinning, and she rolls her eyes but looks back to the camera, doing a little fake curtsy before spinning slowly, letting the camera get a nice, full view of all of her. She winks at him when she’s facing him again, and then does another fake curtsy when she’s looking at the camera again.
He just knows that if they do decide to put this up, the stills of that alone will sell like hotcakes. “Absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart,” he praises. “C’mere.”
She turns back to him, and he can see the intentional sway of her hips as she steps back to the couch. He bites back a groan at the thought of what that looks like, and sits up to grab her around the waist as soon as she’s close enough.
She yelps and laughs as he grabs her and spins her back around, but she settles easily when he pulls her back onto his lap, practically melting back into his embrace when he gets his arms settled around her. He ducks his head to mouth at her jaw, and she just sighs happily and tips her head back, giving him more room as she moans softly.
“Look so good like this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, splaying one palm over her belly and stroking his pinky back and forth across the low waistband of her panties. “I think you’d look even better squirming on my fingers, though. What do you think?”
That earns another moan, both louder and breathier this time, and he gives the camera a smug look.
“Words, sweetheart,” he reminds her, not so much related to the point of the scene, her asking, and more because he prefers words from his subs across the board. There are some exceptions, of course – Lambert comes to mind, the stubborn brat, plus they play with gags half the time anyway – but overall.
She arches in his arms, grumbling a little, but when she relaxes back down she’s turning her face to nuzzle at his ear, shifting the mask a little.
“Yes, please, Sir,” she says, soft and sweet as sugar. He almost can’t help the way he growls, just as affected by that little act as he knows the audience will be. When she wriggles, intentionally grinding her ass against him again, he turns his head and bites at her shoulder.
It would probably look like a reprimand, except for how Renfri moans, going near limp against his chest as her legs spread even wider over his lap, showing off the convenient lack of a crotch in her pretty panties.
“Good girl,” he rumbles, moving his hand down again, until he can pet his fingers over her folds, holding her outer labia open to show off how pretty her cunt is, how it’s shining slick already. Immediately, she’s lifting her hips into the touch, throwing one leg further out to the side, nearly to the limit of what he knows she can handle. “So perfect for me, look so sweet and slutty in my lap like this.”
She whines, hips jerking again, and he rewards her by rubbing his fingertips over her clit before he’s spreading her inner labia to reveal her entrance before he’s rubbing his fingers around it, instead.
“Please, Sir,” she gasps, and he grins, biting a line of light bruises up her throat.
“You have to tell me,” he prompts, again. Because fingering her had been his suggestion – what he wanted to do to her, pretty and already needy in his lap – he hadn’t been planning to make her say anything, or ask. But if she’s going to start begging of her own volition, well.
She shivers, whimpering as he continues to tease at her hole. “Please – ah, fuck. Please put your f-fingers inside me, Sir,” she finally says, with minimal stammering, and he grins. Not really a statement, mostly a plea, but no question.
“Such a good, filthy girl,” he praises, and shifts his arm so it’s easier to turn his hand and shove two fingers inside of her. It’s hardly a stretch – her cunt is much greedier than that – but all the same, she jolts and squeals, and he couldn’t say if it’s for the camera or genuine, right now, but it doesn’t much matter, anyway. Not right now, at least.
“Feel so good, sweetheart,” he purrs, starting off with a pace he knows is too slow for her but isn’t really slow at all. “All slick and hot, already so needy for me – love it when you’re easy like this.”
She squeaks, back arching before she’s turning her face, as if to hide it against his throat. He chuckles and moves his fingers a little faster, noting how her thighs are already starting to tremble.
Genuine desperation, that – she can’t fake that shaking, she’s showed him before, tried, and it’s easy to spot. He ducks to the side and catches her mouth in a kiss.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he coos against her mouth when the kiss breaks, using his thumb to pull her outer labia a little to the side, so when he presses his palm against her, it’s easier to grind it over her clit. She jerks, only restrained by his arms around her. “I love it – love how much you want me, how sweet you are when I have you in my hands and desperate for it. I promise they’ll love it, too, watching you fall apart for me.”
At the reminder of the camera – it was pretty easy to guess that she had, at least temporarily, forgotten about it – she whimpers, breathless and needy, and he feels how her cunt clenches hard around his fingers. It’s thrilling, actually, to see how quickly and effortlessly he’s erased her care for real performance. He knows she doesn’t often do collaborations, for her own content, and maybe it’s just that, being unused to someone else’s ministrations, but – it feels good, all the same, to see the proof of the effect he has on her. He bites and sucks his way down her throat, shifting his free hand up to grope at her tits, forcing the lace to rasp over her sensitive nipples and make her whine.
“S-sir,” she pants, “please.”
“Please?” he asks, and she just gasps some more in reply. He moves his fingers a little faster, a little harder, curling them to hook against her g-spot with each thrust. “Tell me, sweetheart – ask me for it, I know you can.”
She whines again. “I – Sir,” she mewls, but the sound is tinged with surrender, and he just worms his hand under the bralette to pinch at her nipple. “I – more, an-another finger, faster, please?”
“Good,” he says, emphatic, and adds a third finger. The sound it makes as he shoves those three fingers into her is obscene, loud and wet, and he groans as she hiccups through a whimper. “So good for me, just like this, sweetheart. Think you can come for me, like this?”
“S-Sir!” is all she says in reply to that, but the way her hips roll grinds her clit harder against the heel of his palm, so he lets her do it, even encourages the movement by taking his free hand away from her tits to help her move.
It barely takes a minute, after that, for her shaking to intensify, her leg kicking out as she mewls, and he mouths over her jaw as she finally comes, whispering praise into her ear that the camera doesn’t necessarily need to catch.
“Perfect, sweetheart, did so well and told me what you wanted – gonna reward you for that, later, good girl.”
She just sobs around a moan, cunt still clenching around his knuckles, and turns her head, mouth finding his in a clumsy press. He lets her have it, kisses her slow and deep and luxurious, until her breathing has started to settle and she isn’t shaking as much.
“Good girl,” he says, finally breaking the kiss, “love feeling you come for me, sweetheart.”
She whimpers, but he can see the satisfied, smug glance she gives the camera before she’s dropping her head back against his shoulder, still panting a little. He chuckles and bites at her throat, slowly pulling his soaked fingers from her cunt just to slide them up to her clit instead. Her whole body shudders at the touch, and she moans something that might have been Sir in another life, but is mostly just a desperate mewl in this one.
“I think you can give me another one,” he says, knowing how much she likes it when he just tells her, makes her. She mewls again, turning her head to nuzzle at his mask-covered cheek.
“Yes, Sir,” she says, saccharine sweet, and he grins at the camera.
“Good girl.”
He doesn’t bother with teasing, or really even working her up, already able to feel the tension in her that means she doesn’t need – or want – it.
Also, the agreement had been that he could do whatever he wanted until she told him otherwise, so….
The first one comes easy, but she’s clearly sensitive with how she practically howls through it, shoulder blades bruising his chest as she arches near-violently at the peak. He just grunts and kisses along her throat, over her shoulder, slowing a little with his fingers but not stopping, reveling in the way she gasps and shakes, hips jerking erratically like she can’t figure out whether to try and get away or get closer.
He doesn’t give her much of an option, still biting and kissing over her shoulder and collar as he moves faster again, moving his free hand to her thigh so he can hold her open and mostly still when she starts to tense, cunt clenching hard enough he can feel it in how her clit throbs.
“Go on, be a good girl, give me what I want,” he encourages, pressing a little harder. She whines, then turns her head and bites him, making his cock throb heavily in his jeans. He just grinds up against her and continues, thinking about how many he should force out of her before he sits her on his cock instead. “Know you can, sweetheart – come for me.”
“Es… Esk…. Sir!” she shouts, muffled and slurred against his throat, and he delights in the near-slip even as he slaps her thigh in reprimand. She just jerks and whines in response, already coming, too deep in the endorphins to properly acknowledge the almost-lapse in title.
When she’s done shaking, he gives her a bit more of a reprieve, dragging his hands up her body to play with her tits instead. She melts into him with a lust-soaked sigh, thighs spread wide over his lap and arms trapped under his around her.
“So perfect for me,” he murmurs, rubbing at her nipples through the lace to feel how she shudders and arches up into the pressure, then pulling the bralette down to grope at her tits properly, making her moan and squirm. “Pretty little cunt, even prettier little tits – everything about you is so pretty, sweetheart.”
She makes a shy little sound, at that, clearly starting to surface a little more from three orgasms in quick succession. “S-Sir,” she mumbles, and he just grins, sparing a glance to the camera before his attention is back to her.
“Hm?” He pinches her nipples again, a little hard, and then tugs lightly, and her breath whistles out of her in pleasured shock, back arching to follow the pull. “What is it, sweetheart? Were you going to tell me you’re not pretty?”
She squeaks. “N-no, Sir,” she says, quickly, and he’s half-and-half on whether it’s a lie or not, but he lets it go for now.
“Then what, sweetheart?” He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and then back down her throat, where she’s already blooming in bruises from his earlier ministrations. “What is it?”
“I – I w-want,” she manages, and then her breath is gone again as he shifts, tipping her to the side just so he can follow and get his mouth on one of her nipples. The position is awkward, but the way she stammers and whines for it is entirely worth any discomfort.
“Mmm?”
He knows exactly how the hum will feel around her nipple, and is thrilled when she just whimpers some more, entire body jolting toward his mouth.
But even more than the thrill of that, is how thrilling it is when she keeps trying to tell him what she wants anyway.
“Want – w-wan…. S-sir, fuck, want your…mouth, on my c-cunt. Please?”
He can’t help the way he groans about that, cock jerking so hard in his pants he’s fairly certain he hears some seams creak. “Of course, sweetheart,” he answers, once he can manage words without just growling. “Whatever you tell me – whatever you ask for.”
However, he does think he wants to move the camera for this, so he makes another mental note about editing and then leans back, pulling her along to sit up again.
“You good to sit here for a sec while I adjust the camera?” he asks, knowing that the answer very well might be no. He doesn’t think she’s far enough under quite yet that she’s reached the point of needing him to ground her the rest of the way through, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t – or that she might need him to stay close for other reasons. If she doesn’t want him going anywhere, then he’ll just figure out a better pose to give the camera a good shot.
She sucks in a breath, eyes a little wide and hazy. “I – y-yeah. Yes, Sir.”
“You sure, sweetheart?” he nuzzles their noses together just to hear the way she’ll giggle about it, and smiles when it works like it has since the first time he did it.
“Mmm. Mhm, I am,” she assures, and he kisses her.
“Good girl. Just a moment, then.”
He shifts her off his lap and then stands, adjusting his jeans the best he can for his comfort before he crosses the room to grab the camera stand. He moves it closer to the couch, then looks at the screen to check the framing before shifting it a little off-center, just so he can turn it to better catch the post and angle he’s imagining in his head.
The whole time, Renfri is sitting exactly where he left her, just watching him. She’s not touching herself, but she’s clearly considering it, hands on her thighs and fingers twitching restlessly. He doesn’t let him get distracted staring at her, but it’s a near thing – she looks like something out of a wet dream, tits spilling out of her bralette and cunt bright pink and swollen, framed by the thin straps on either side of it that make up the “crotch” of her panties, face flushed the same pink and hair a mess.
Once the camera is settled, he’s ducking back into frame just to kiss her, one hand settling on her jaw and the other tangling in those messy curls, using both grips to tug her where he wants her. She whimpers and reaches up, getting her own fingers curled in his shirts, tugging hard at them in a very pointed way. He leaves her with a nip to her swelling lip, humming questioningly.
“Want – take these off. Please, Sir?”
His cock throbs. “Of course, sweetheart.”
He leans back to tug his shirts off, tossing them somewhere off camera and readjusting his mask, and then he rejoins her on the couch, just at the opposite end. He’s sort of – not quite laying, but nearly, one leg up on the cushions and the other bent off of them, his shoulders and neck propped up on the arm. Once he’s comfortable, he gestures Renfri toward him, and she comes, scrambling over his legs until she’s straddling his hips.
He smirks and crooks his finger, a silent keep coming, and she makes a confused noise, but does just that, shifting awkwardly until she’s straddling his chest. He grins and crooks his finger again, and helps, this time, getting his arms under her legs so she can better get them over his shoulders, leaving her straddling his throat and his mouth, instead.
“Oh,” she murmurs, thighs squeezing around his head for a split second. Her fingers land on his head, trailing down over the mask, but she doesn’t say anything or move it, instead just shifting along with him while he gets properly comfortable underneath her.
“Perfect,” he says, a little loud to compensate for how her body will muffle him. “Go on, then, sweetheart. Take what you need.”
She whimpers, but lifts her hips and settles, gingerly at first, with her cunt over his mouth. He hopes the camera catches the way he’s grinning as he reaches up and forces her to bend at the waist, giving the camera what he knows should be a nice shot of her ass and cunt as he dives in, shoving his tongue inside her before he’s licking along her folds to her clit.
It’ll definitely catch the way she jerks and moans, at least.
“S-Sir, Sir, I – fuck, fuck,” she gasps, one of her hands gripping at his hair while the other goes to the back of the couch, hips rolling against his face. He lets her do it, follows the movements so she can never quite escape his tongue, humming and groaning into her cunt at how good she tastes, how tightly she clenches around his tongue when he fucks her on it.
Eventually, she settles into a good position, sort of sideways and grinding her clit against the edge of his mask and his nose. He keeps making encouraging noises, one hand on her hip to help her move while he eats her out, loving how he can feel her dripping down his throat in more than one way, this other hand slowly working its way over his own belly until it reaches his cock.
He growls at his own touch, hips rolling up to grind against his palm, and Renfri squeals, hips jerking hard as she comes sudden and messy, temporarily cutting off his air as she grinds down hard on his face. He just lets her, revels in the dizzy airlessness until he can suck in a breath through his nose again, fumbling to get his cock out with one hand.
“Good girl, so fucking good,” he mutters, directly into her cunt, and then, when she whimpers and fumbles back to sit on his collar and pant, louder. “So fucking perfect for me, such a good girl.”
“Es – Sir,” she pants. “Fuck.”
He grins, knowing he probably looks a mess, his entire face and most of his throat soaked in her. She just whines and grinds herself down over his collar, leaving even more of a mess.
“Need something?” he asks, moving his hand from her hip to her belly, tucking his thumb against her clit. She whimpers again, and then moans, eyes squeezing shut as she trembles all over. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta tell me what you want, or I’ll just keep doing what I want.”
The look she gives him tells him that’s not the threat it will probably sound like to their audience, and he grins, rubbing a hard, slow circle over her clit with the pad of his thumb.
She squeals, thighs going tight around his neck for a split second before she’s gasping and shifting, lifting up onto her knees and starting to try fumbling her way back. “Cock,” she spits, suddenly, and then her eyes are going wide as she flushes crimson. He bites back a laugh and repeats the little circle with his thumb.
“Oh?” he asks. “My cock, or someone else’s? Or maybe you want me to go get one of my toys – ”
“Yours,” Renfri interrupts, face still tomato-red. “Want – Sir, please, fuck me. Want your cock.”
Said cock jerks where he’s gotten it partially freed from his jeans. “That’s better,” he says, still rubbing at her clit, and starts working harder to keep freeing himself from his pants and underwear. He laughs a little when she realizes and fumbles back some more, reaching behind herself to try and help.
Between the two of them, they manage to get his jeans all the way open and his underwear shoved low enough it won’t get in the way, at least for now. He relents on his touch when Renfri whines and bats at his hand, instead shifting to help her move back, until she’s straddling his waist again.
He really hadn’t planned for this scene to move so fast, or for her genuine, obvious desperation, but, well. The deal had been that Renfri could have whatever she wanted as long as she actually asked for it, actually told him what it was, and she’s done exactly that. He can’t deny her.
And as far as the desperation and clear enthusiasm, well. It sells, and he much prefers it.
“Go on, be a good girl,” he says, getting both hands around her hips to help her lift up. “You want my cock so badly, sweetheart – I want to give it to you. There you go.”
She’s whining breathlessly as his cock slips between her thighs, and then she’s reaching between them to get a hand around the base of him and he’s the one whining, gasping out her name when she strokes him a handful of times before settling the head of him against her fluttering cunt.
“Good girl, just like that – I’ll fuck you just like you want me to, sweetheart, you just have to let me in,” he goads, rolling his hips to grind against her, heart and breath stuttering at how hot and wet she is. She whimpers and slips her fingers around his cockhead instead, using that grip to shove it rather unceremoniously into her cunt.
Both of them groan, hers pitchy and stuttering and his just as shaky but lower, feeling like it’s been yanked out of his chest with a hook. His grip on her hips is probably bruising, at this point, but she’s squeezing so tightly around his cockhead that he can’t even focus on that, using all of his willpower not to force her down onto him until she sobs.
She’s not exactly open enough to take him, not yet, and while she is definitely a fan of the force it takes to get him inside when she’s like this, there’s a difference between that force and hurting her.
After a moment of breathing through it, he gets his fingers on her clit again, rubbing hard and fast, knowing that enough of a targeted touch, when she’s already so worked up and sensitive, will be plenty to knock her over the edge again.
Exactly as predicted, after about two minutes, she’s sobbing and shuddering her way through a fifth orgasm, the erratic movement making her sink further down on his cock with a shattered little whine. He gentles the touch but doesn’t stop, rocking his hips in counterpoint with her shaking, until she’s gasping and starting to move voluntarily again, following his rhythm – clumsily at first, and then better.
His voice is more of a rasping growl than anything else when he groans, “Good girl, feel like heaven around me, fuck….”
“Fuck, fuck, please – please, Sir, want – ” she’s gasping as she speaks, more stammer than words, but he can recognize the pleas all the same, and he just sinks his cock a little deeper into her while he waits for her to gather the words. “Oh, fuck – please…. Sir, please fuck me – h-harder, harder, please.”
He’s not exactly sure what to call the noise he makes at that, but it’s much more animal than man, he knows that much. “Of course, sweetheart, perfect, filthy girl for me – give you whatever you want.”
The next time she rocks back, sinking a little further down, he thrusts up, and she wails as she takes nearly his whole cock, clenching so tight around him that for a moment he can’t keep moving. Rubbing faster at her clit just makes her shake and clench harder, nails digging lines into his chest and belly as she bends forward, mouth finding his in a graceless press.
He kisses her, lets her moan and whine into his mouth as he works her up again, fingers attentive at her clit as he grinds his cock deep enough into her he’s certain it aches. If she doesn’t like it, though, she’s not showing that, whining loud into his mouth as her cunt clenches tight and rhythmic around him as her thighs tremble. It doesn’t take long, like that, until their kiss devolves into her just panting and mewling against his mouth, hips rocking as if to ride him but without ever pulling away.
“Come around my cock like a good girl, sweetheart,” he murmurs, getting his other arm around her waist to hold her tight against him as she shakes even harder. His cock is throbbing, and he’s stupidly close just from this. “Know you want to, can feel how badly you need it, all hot and clinging around me – so perfect for me, I know you can do it, go on.”
Her breathing seizes, and then her hips are jerking erratically, heart hammering where her chest is pressed to his, and he kisses her as she shudders through it, heedless of how slack her mouth is against his, how half of the kiss is just her wails and whimpering of his name. Sir is long gone, now, probably because the intensity has entirely wiped titles from her mind, and he lets it slide; he’s practically cross-eyed with how good she feels squeezing like a vice around him, the thrill of her mewling his name against his mouth – he can’t really judge her losing track of her manners, right now.
“Feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he pants, when she finally starts coming down and buries her face in his throat. “Fuck, so perfect, just wanna keep you on my cock like this – being such a good girl.”
She laughs, a slurred, breathless little thing. “C-can’t – can’t take a picture, then,” she mumbles, and he’s halfway through a confused hum when she’s continuing, “if you keep me on your cock, you can’t – can’t add a Polaroid of me leaking your cum to the wall.”
He swears and fucks up into her hard, balls tightening at the needy, hurt little noise she makes as she rolls her hips back, into the pressure.
“Please?” she asks, and it’s just as sweet as earlier but with none of the intention. This is just her, sweet and pliant for him like she has been when it’s just them and no camera, no implied audience, and he gets a hand in her hair to pull her back to his mouth.
“Needy, filthy little thing,” he tells her, and then he’s moving, using the foot he’s got on the ground to push both of them up and then lean forward, putting her on her back with him leaning over her without ever pulling his cock entirely out of her.
She shivers, at that, eyes gone wide and lips swelling from biting at them and the friction of his own mouth, and he has a passing thought about having her make the same face for photos, later, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.
“Tell me you want it, sweetheart,” he orders, ducking down to bite and suck at her nipples. “Use those pretty words – know you can, you’ve done so well for me, telling me what you want.”
She’s too busy whining and arching her tits closer to his mouth, at first, but after a moment she manages to find her voice again. “Please fuck me,” she pleads, and fuck, he almost doesn’t want to keep that in the video, with how sex-soaked and perfectly slutty she sounds saying it. Wants to keep that for himself, instead. Except then, of course, she’s continuing, and he isn’t thinking about much of anything except doing exactly as she says. “Please, want – want you to fuck me hard, fill me up, and – and take the picture, take a picture of me messy and leaking. Please, Sir?”
He surges up to kiss her again, sinking his cock back into her to the hilt at the same time, because there’s not anything else he can do, in response. She mewls into his mouth, and when he pulls his hips back just to fuck forward again, hard and fast and deep, wails, nails digging stinging lines into his back as she clings.
“Good girl, fuck, so good,” he growls, kissing down her throat and biting at the jut of her collarbone. “So fucking good, gonna wreck you.”
“P-please, Sir,” is all she says in reply.
Once the video is edited and posted, the scene with Renfri quickly shoots to one of his top sellers. Not only that, but the trailer rapidly ends up on the top played free videos on the whole site, and Renfri’s channel ends up with a flood of new subscribers, nearly all of them paid, which is the most impressive part.
He’s not exactly shocked that it happens, really, it’s more just the speed at which it happens. It barely takes a handful of days to top his sales, and only a day after that the trailer makes the top watched, and by the end of the week Renfri’s subscriber count has nearly tripled, never mind the sudden additions to his own counts.
Renfri, of course, laughs at him when he expresses this shock, perched in his lap after a sort of post-video check in, something he makes sure happens with any of his partners, but especially the ones that have particularly intense scenes.
“Why wouldn’t people love it?” she asks, as if she didn’t also have doubts before they filmed. And Eskel would like to remind her of that, is opening his mouth to do so, but then she continues, “Seeing you go feral like that? Oh, and eating my cunt like you were starving for it – that one was guaranteed to be popular.”
“Mhm, sure,” he mutters, and redirects the conversation entirely by sliding his palm between her legs. At this point, he’s learned it’s about the only way to get her off of things – she’s very much like a dog with a bone. Luckily, the material of her leggings is no match for the pressure of his palm, and she whimpers, tipping her head back against his shoulder. “Pretty sure they just like watching you be such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”
She giggles through another whine. “Keep telling yourself that, Sir."