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A sexy artist follows her inspiration.

'I was just ... breaking it off...' she bleated, her voice trailing as she realized the pointlessness of her excuse.

A long silence ensued while she pressed her forehead to her clenched fist and wept. They were real tears and it was true remorse that she felt. She turned her pleading eyes on me looking for some sympathy, but I just arched my eyebrows, smiled and patted the brown paper envelope. I really wanted to tell her my compassion was as short as my dick but I didn't want humour to diminish her suffering.

Arrangements were made for her to follow me on the short trip back. She wanted to talk, negotiate right there in the parking lot. But I didn't. Desperate and frustrated at having no indication of what I was going to do, she begged me not to tell my brother. In her desolation she blurted out 'I'll do anything. To which I replied, 'Yes you will.'

To further underscore her situation, I made her take off her panties beside the car and give them to me.

The next day I didn't phone her at all. Several times she tried to call through to me but I wouldn't answer. When I got home from work she was parked outside my apartment, waiting. She looked as if she hadn't slept and the puffiness around her eyes was definitely from crying.

Her first approach was the old Cheryl. Confident, arrogant, and demanding, she told me that she'd brought two thousand dollars cash and that I was to turn over the tape to her and never speak of it again. She strode into my apartment like she owned it, and me, and laid it on the line.

'Give me the tape, keep your mouth shut and you won't have a problem. If you ever again raise the subject again, no one will believe you and your brother will side with me.' She stood there then, hands on her hips, looking down her nose at me like I was some vile child who had offended her.

'Take off your clothes,' I replied matter-of-factly.

'There's no way in hell,' she blustered, but her self-assurance didn't ring true. She looked uncomfortable for a moment, her eyes darting here and there to avoid contact with mine. Finally, she sighed deeply, looking down at her hands and playing with her fingers.

'Look,, if two thousand isn't enough, I'll get more... It, ah, ...just takes time.'

'Take off your clothes,' I repeated.

'All right!' she snapped irritably. 'But you'll only fuck me once and then the deal is over. You'll give me the tape,' she declared emphatically.

Angrily, her hands began to unfasten her clothes.

'Do it slowly,' I instructed putting a CD into the machine. 'I want you to strip for me like an expensive whore.

Not at all happy with the scene, she nonetheless began a slow, self-conscious dance. Her blouse went first and her hands trembled as they contended with the small buttons. I couldn't believe that she actually blushed when she faced me in her brassiere. Still moving too quickly, she reached behind to unfasten her skirt and I stopped her.

'Take your time. Show off your tits a bit. Shake them for me and let me see you feel them up. Then lift your skirt and give me a little preview of what's under there. Remember, you're not just a piece of meat. You're a piece of prime cunt.'

A few minutes later her bra and skirt had joined her blouse on the floor. She wore no stockings and her tanned legs looked great sticking out of the openings in her white panties. Her tits swayed tantalizingly as she moved to the music and the nipples stood out like acorns. There were no more pauses where I had to tell her what to do next. She rolled her panties down to the fringe of her pubic hair and rocked her hips provocatively like any slut would do. The black pelt of tangled curls that I had loved so much peaked above the elastic waistband capturing my eyes and mesmerizing my dick.

From the look on her face, Cheryl thought she was back in control now.

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