“You are so fucking ready for it, aren’t you? Some young cock?”
Mrs. Candless stood back upright, but didn’t speak. She hoisted her sports bra up over her tits. He couldn’t see much from this side, save the slopes of them on the side.
“Turn for me.”
She did, dropping the bra to the floor. Her big nipples ended in an upward peak, looking desperately like they needed to be sucked. Her dark hair was still in a ponytail. He stepped forward, hands rising not to her breasts, but to her hair. He freed it, and pulled it down across her shoulders so it spilled down beside her breasts. Her lips parted with him so close, her chest rising and falling, her cheeks burning bright. He slipped out his phone, and she instinctively covered herself.
“Don’t,” Jaxton warned her.
“But-“
“You are our slut now. What you want, what you’re embarrassed by, I don’t give a fuck about. I want something to jack off to when I’m thinking about home. You’re it.”
“You’re all terrible,” Emilia breathed, but her hand dropped, and she looked away as he began to snap pictures.
“Yeah. We are,” Jaxton said, his grin toothy. “Turn around.”
She did, looking back over her shoulder at his command. He took dozens of pictures, making her bend over, spreading her ass cheeks so he could get a close up of her puckered bud and her pussy lips. He pushed her back towards the bed and had her lay there, spreading herself wide for him while he took more photos. Emilia asked him to please delete the ones where her face was visible, but he just laughed. Eventually, bored and horny, he told her they were done, and went to her closet to look through what she had for clothes.
It took him a long while to find what he wanted her to wear. He shoved aside her jeans, her tee shirts, the work blouses and skirts. That left about a fifth of her closet space, not much, and he frowned at the sparse few sexy outfits she had in there. He grabbed her a short sundress spotted in sunflowers, and a matching pair of bikini briefs and a bra.
As she dressed, he lounged against a wall, watching. “You need sexier clothes. You’re our slut now. You look the part.”
“But Jim-“
“The hell does Jim have to do with anything?” Jaxton snapped. “What did I just say? Whose slut are you?”
“Yours,” she whispered. “Yours. Milo’s. Simon’s.”
“Good. So what are you going to do?”
“Wear sexier things.”
He stepped forward and patted her butt. “That’s it.”
They headed out together, taking his car. He sang along to the radio, ignoring Emilia as she sat in the corner, a hand at her chin, staring blankly out the windows.
* * *
Like Milo, Jaxton paid for everything. The tickets to the action comedy. The popcorn, The drinks. Emilia had a hard time focusing in on any of it. She’d been fighting back tears ever since he photographed her nude. Not that she hadn’t liked it — she loved it. Never had she done such a thing, not even for Jim. Oh, she’d sent him plenty of boob pics throughout the years, and a few times even her pussy. But her face had never been in the shots. If someone saw those pictures, they’d know what a filthy slut she really was for her block boys.