But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 20
He wished he could do this more often, but he couldn’t. Yes, he checked her Tumblr posts regularly, a couple of times per week, but this particular thing was something that could only be done rarely. Maybe every 6 months, and as her account was only just over 6 months old this was the first opportunity. He would have to wait until the summer to do it again.
He was sitting at the desk with a beer, reading her Tumblr posts from the very start. Nicole was under the desk, keeping him on edge. Over a short length of time, the changes in her posts was too gradual to notice, but over a longer period you could really appreciate the accumulation of gradual changes. From curiosity to enthusiasm.
It was January now and he had already gotten as far as her December posts, so he was almost done.
She had loved the non-toxic marker. Had immediately fallen in love with the idea of being secretly marked. He had introduced it as they got ready for her work’s Christmas party. Then at the party she had come back from the bathroom, grinning as she approached him. She dragged him away, saved him really, from his attempts to participate in a conversation with three strangers who only knew how to talk about work with each other. She took him to a quiet area and when she was sure no one would see, had opened the Tumblr app on her phone and showed him her latest post.
He was looking at the picture now. One of her arms was holding the front of her dress up outside of the shot. She had been wearing underwear that night, but he assumed they were around her ankles or knees as she stood in the bathroom stall. The words ‘BIMBO’ and ‘WHORE’ running down the left and right sides (from the observer’s point of view) of her labia. Caption: So bored at the work Christmas party!
That had been the first time that she herself had posted NSFW pictures of herself on her account, without instructions from him. He had stroked her hair at the time, as she closed the app. ‘Good girl’, he had said when she looked back up at him. ‘Wait, I’m only starting my second drink, how much have you had?’
‘I want to get my second now’.
‘Wow, not even drunk and you did that? You really are a good girl’, he praised her again, then whispered into her ear; ‘You absolute total fucking dumbass slut. Sex has really addled your brain’, he said, practising his disdain. She grinned wider, loving this recent experimental ‘praise’ that he had been trying. ‘Airhead’, he added, shaking his damn head.
‘Here comes my boss’, she said, seeing past him. ‘Let’s go talk to him now and get it out of the way. It’s still too early to leave, but we won’t be able to go without speaking to him at some stage. My assistant didn’t come so maybe we can get away without having to talk to anyone else’.
‘Fine’, good idea, he knew, ‘just try not to show him your filthy whore pussy’.
She suppressed her laughter as they walked towards him.
After that all incidents with the marker had been posted, though not necessarily with pictures. That weekend they had had sushi again. That was the next post. It did have an accompanying picture. Just her breasts. 100% fake written on each. 100% above the nipple, fake below. He smiled, then closed his eyes for a few seconds to enjoy the sensations. He allowed himself a satisfied groan. She couldn’t hear him, he knew.
Then, as part of the same post, a second image; a close up of her cheek and the side of her lips. 100% fake written on her cheek with an arrow pointing to her upper lip. Though there was just one photo of one cheek, he knew that the text was also repeated on the other side with an arrow pointing to her lower lip.
Her next post had been about the videos they had shot of her accepting sushi deliveries. Bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t post them on Tumblr as she didn’t want to—and had been ordered not to—post anything that would identify her. She loved those videos. So did he too of course, they had been his idea originally, but that weekend she had started initiating conversations about how best to record them.
For example, a conversation about the position of the hidden camera. It was important to get the guys reaction of course which meant the camera had to be pointing towards him, but she didn’t want her back to the camera or even to be side on. She wanted, and he agreed, to get everything.
They ended up only slightly shifting the camera’s position, just angling it slightly from its position against the side wall, so that it pointed more at the person standing in the hall. Then, if the door was opened far past 90 degrees, and if she stood holding the door edge, then she could open her body to the camera, while still facing the delivery guy.
He had assumed that conversation had been finished and had went to the bathroom. When he came back he found her replaying a video in the camera’s viewfinder, one she had just shot of her answering the door to no one, checking that the angles were good.
She was embarrassed to have been caught. He laughed and kissed her. ‘You whore. What are you?’
‘A whore’, she sing-songed back.
‘You’re not naked in this video’, a statement of fact and a question.
‘Somebody could walk by!’
‘I do listen out for people coming when I take the deliveries usually.’
‘Smart’, he said.
‘Mm-hmm’, she responded returning her attention to the viewfinder.
‘For a whore’, he patted her head, and walked away.
He opened the directory on the laptop’s file system labelled Sushi and selected the video from that evening. He clicked play. Nicole bending down in front of the hidden camera. That was an innovation that she had come up with that evening. Bookending the proceedings with her bending over the camera, turning it on and off. The text clearly visible on her cheeks in that first shot, not so much on her breasts, but that becomes visible as she stands up. The guy has been buzzed up already and she goes to the door, sashaying for the camera, to wait for the knock. Facing the camera now, looking at it, giddy with anticipation. The door knocks, he assumed, as she grins wider, pauses, composes herself and then opens the door.
He realised that the sound was being directed to Nicole’s headphones. A pity, he would have to figure out how to direct sound from two different inputs to two different outputs.
She smiles, mute ‘Hallos’ are exchanged and she takes the bag of sushi. She asks something and allows herself to rock a bit on her heels, shifting her weight from one hip and leg to the other, both maintaining motion of her body and eliciting motion from her body parts. He loved her attitude. Aware that she was naked and aware that the guy was aware. Aware of the text on her breasts and cheeks and not hiding it, displaying it proudly, without specifically drawing attention to it.
But there was more. She acted friendly. More than friendly, familiar even. After all this wasn’t the first time they had met. She acted as you would to your favourite employee in the store on your block. Taking the conversation beyond that required for a mere cash transaction was allowed and not at all frowned upon.
He loaded the video on a phone and held it under the table, directing her head reluctantly away from his cock. She moaned, too loud, one hand still between her legs. Will could hear the beat and melody spilling out of her headphones from under the table. It was a long ago given order that she couldn’t suppress sex sounds unless he explicitly granted an exception. What was natural when she couldn’t hear herself was apparently louder than usual. From the laptop he turned up the volume on the bluetooth speakers one notch, hearing the increase himself. Would she get louder, he wondered?
Not enough time to find out, the video ended. She couldn’t cum until he did, and she was to focus on him until he gave the signal that he was ready. So she couldn’t make much noise as her mouth was in use.
He continued scrolling. Nothing on his work office party, though nothing outrageous had happened. Things were good though. His boss had taken him aside and told him that plans were afoot to open a new office. They were looking at a small operation in a rural setting, possibly in Idaho or Utah, but there were a lot of decisions still to be made. Once those had been made he would be promoted to go manage the opening of the office. Maybe a couple of months away in total, completely overseeing the set up of the operation. Then when he came back he would find himself with increased decision making responsibilities to reflect that promotion.
Things were good. Nicole and himself would move this year, they had decided, to a bigger apartment. And they had discussed the idea of a joint bank account. They didn’t want to get married, yet anyway, but did want to make that commitment to each other.
He scrolled some more. In France. Just text this time. Christmas day. No mention of which country was home, just that she was foreign. ‘Happy Christmas. Back home, about to have dinner with my family who I love and miss! HeeHee! My owner has written what I really am on my body and breasts ♥ Fortunately I get to cover it up. :smirk:’
Will smiled to himself. Stupid fake-titted bimbo. All caps. The two B’s with improvised nipples. She had whispered more than once into his ear as they watched films later with the family, to take her upstairs for 5 minutes. He had refused though, just too obvious.
Tattoos? he wondered to himself? It was kind of a turn on to him. In particular the style used at her work Christmas party. But the permanence of something that you might change your mind on worried him. He smiled to himself, and reached down and fondled her breast, feeling the implant within. No, a bigger breast is still a breast. A tattoo was something where previously there was nothing. Had he convinced himself of his righteousness? Kind of. Though he decided not to pull the thread any further in case the sweater unravelled.
What if something happened to him and she spent the rest of her life with some seriously lewd text between her legs? What about non-lewd tattoos then, he wondered. Visible tattoos? He wasn’t into tattoos too much, though there were some that he thought were seriously hot. Elaborate, decorative bowed ribbons at the top of each leg under the ass. They were amazing. Maybe a line going all the way down the back of the leg from each ribbon, imitating the seem line of tights? Maybe the lines could end with small hearts above the ankles? Really feminine, really sexy.
No. Always visible when not wearing trousers. OK, just the ribbons then. Again, always visible at the beach or clubbing, or even just wearing shorts in hot weather, which in Las Vegas was often. A style you could never change. He liked the idea a lot, but no. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fantasize, focusing on the pleasure Nicole was giving him. But he didn’t want to cum yet. He opened his eyes.
What about temporary tattoos? That was a thing, right? Just for a weekend. He laughed out loud at the thought of a day at the pool, Nicole with a tramp stamp. Two mudflap girls. Him applying it the night before as she lies on her belly on the couch (how much time would they require for application, he briefly wondered). Telling her not to use a mirror to try and see it. Unaware what the tattoo is. No, part of her would want to know, he realised. It would ruin that kink for her if she didn’t know exactly what people could see on her.
Then, maybe in a bar the night before the pool, he decided. Her wearing a crop top. Telling her she can only look at it after they have already been out for an hour or so. Maybe the mudflap girls lips could also be exaggerated like the breasts? Probably too fine an edit to such a standard image, particularly for something so cheap and temporary.
He focused back on the screen. A few more posts to take him up to the current day. Posts about make-up. Loving the way she could change people’s perceptions of her depending on how she made her face.
Experimenting with lipsticks. The wet look lipstick had been a particular hit. He certainly thought so too. Though all of this was for outside work. She had an image to maintain there.
That then led directly to posts about her lips. It had taken her longer to fall in love with them the way she had with her breasts, but she had gotten there. Practising expressions in the mirror, pursing them, licking them, just emphasizing their existence. Revelling in their plumpness. Enjoying the ever-so-slight caricature-ishness of her old pout.
Then, the final most recent post about ways to explore all of these side of her nature further. In secret, just her and him and—she supposed—her followers. Suggestions were offered as comments, and though Will had to admit that some of them were interesting, he already knew what he wanted to try.
He left the blog part of her website and went to look at her ‘Likes’, scrolling down to the start of the history and then working his way back up.
She was posting more pictures of women, and more pictures of a certain kind of woman. Originally he had told her to post images of what she thought was sexy. And originally she hadn’t posted too much such images. Some men, some women. He asked at the time, requiring truth, why she didn’t post more images of men. She said that what she found sexy in men were aspects of character, not necessarily physical traits that an image could easily convey. Yes, some men were better looking, some had better bodies, that was something, but not her main thing.
This was reflected in the pictures of men she posted. Usually fully dressed. Some character aspect implied. Intelligence or empathy or sincerity or protectiveness or something even more intangible like an inner resolve. Usually they were handsome, sometimes classically handsome, chiselled jaw, etc.—which made sense as these pictures had been made by professional photographers working with models.
The women that she had posted back then had been beautiful, like her. Outrageous or, at least, interesting bone structure. Models. Slim, tall, small breasts. Sometimes in a bikini or naked, sometimes fully clothed, though he had to admit the clothes were cool. As with the male images, some of the female picture communicated some character aspect, strength, determination, a refusal to bow or lie down or to watch someone else be exploited. Seriously cool, Will had to agree. And definitely sexy. But he had to admit, it didn’t push all of his buttons. He wished it did.
She still posted those kinds of female images, but by the start of the fall images of a different kind of woman had started appearing. Still good looking, even very beautiful, but not in the same league as the other women. Unlike the models, who rarely smiled (no doubt under the direction of the photographer), these women all smiled. And they smiled at the camera. They smiled to the people looking at them. They wanted to be looked at.
The clothes they wore—when they wore clothes—were designed for showing off. If wearing a top then it was either low cut or skin tight. The only trousers he saw were a pair of yoga pants. That’s an impressive ass, he thought. Nicole agreed. ‘Goals!’ the poster—female presumably—had captioned the image. High heels. Not just in a formal setting like Nicole had restricted herself to, but also in a casual, ‘just hanging out’ setting.
Very few of these women had small breasts. And of the large breasts, most were the store bought variety. Like hers. Mostly about her size, DD, though in a couple of images they were unquestionably larger.
Will smiled. Bimbos.
He scrolled down further. Into winter and the new year. Some images of women with large lips appeared. Reflecting what she was talking about in the blog at that time.
Further down. Now images featuring a man and a woman. Black and white, professionally done. Back to the photographer trying to communicate aspects of characters. In one image a woman kneeling, head down, eyes closed, before a man standing powerfully above her. In the next image a woman naked, performing some domestic task, a man standing behind her, wearing a suit, seeming to direct her in some way. In the next a man sitting back in a comfortable chair, reading a newspaper, his face serious, concentrating on the article. A woman sits on the floor, both arms wrapped around his leg, her head resting against his knee, her eyes closed, a faint smile on her lips.
Will’s cock strained. I don’t really want this, he thought. This wasn’t his image of the world. A relationship of equals had always been his goal, despite the insistence of whatever part of his brain was responsible for those desires. Nobody has to know, he told himself. What happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom. Consent between two adults is all the permission I, we, need. And it’s hot as fuck.
He was ready. He opened the next Sushi video, from two weeks ago. Similar to the previous, but this time there were cumming cocks drawn on her body and face. ‘STUPID’ had been written on her forehead. He was about to pat Nicole on the head, the signal, but then paused. He closed the video and instead googled around for a bit. When he found something he liked, he patted her gently, and stroked her hair.
Afterwards, before she could clean him, he grabbed a handful of hair and mopped up. When he let go, he looked down between his legs at her. She was taking a long, deep swig from her water bottle. Then she closed her eyes and lay down on her back, the hand between her legs moving in time with the music, the other feeling the weight of her breasts. She started groaning, loud, but real.
He stayed sitting, watching her finish, which didn’t take long. He looked up and lowered the volume of the cheesy—far worse then cheesy, just plain awful—techno trance to the lowest non mute setting. He looked down again. She was now on her side, facing him, her head rested in the crook of one arm, eyes closed, asleep or waiting for sleep.
He got up and walked to the bathroom to have a shower. He turned at the door to look back at her, her back facing him, the butt plug visible.