Jamia's been part of the scene since she was fifteen years old, sneaking out of her bedroom window to catch punky New Jersey bands in sketchy clubs, flashing her fake ID at scowling bouncers.
She's smart, she knows all the rules. She knows that once you sleep with a dude in the scene, you're fair game, and the guys come at you like they can smell the blood in the water. She knows not to let strangers bring her drinks, or to leave her glass unattended. She knows about safety in numbers.
When she runs across other girls, she goes out of her way to keep an eye on them, takes them under her wing and shows them the ropes. It costs her nothing, and if she can spit in the eye of the patriarchy, well, more power to her.
Jamia's seen a lot in her years in the business, she's put up with being touched by skeevy 'executives' in suits, been told to put out or get out, been called whore and slut and cunt. She holds her own, though, with a cutting look or a swift punch to some asshole's dick. She stands her ground when she's in the pit, throwing elbows, or in the office arguing with some fucking jerk about studio costs.
She's not surprised when Frank comes back from his tours a sexist pig. All that testosterone, too many guys crowded together into a small area, booze and weed and more booze. Jamia understands. Frank's got a natural talent at being an asshole, but it's usually not directed at her. She gives him space, lets him decompress, refrains from kicking his ass. It's always hard, because he acts like the worst kind of douchebag, but he usually comes around.
This tour was different, almost four months long, and weeks later Frank's still using 'pussy' and 'slut' as insults and fuck it all, Jamia wants her Frank back, the one that's smarter than that.
The final nail in the coffin is when he slaps her ass and mutters, "Get me a beer, willya?" while he's watching the Jets game. He doesn't even look at her. Jamia gets him a beer and retires to the bathroom to take a long, hot bath and plot.
"Should kick his fucking ass," she says, swirling the bubbles around. "'Get me a beer, willya?'" she mimics in a whiny voice. "Asshole." While physical violence might be very satisfying, Jamia wants something that will teach him a lesson, one that he'll remember for a long time.
She closes her eyes and relaxes, letting her mind wander and—"Oh." She grins, because yeah, that's perfect.
Jamia spends the rest of her bath luxuriating, letting the heat soak into her bones and melt away the tension. She touches herself, tracing the curve of her shoulder, elbow, wrist, skin silky soft. She can feel the arousal burning through her blood, and it makes her smile, mouth curving sharp and smug. She skims her fingers down the center of her chest, going low and tangles her fingers in the hair between her thighs, tugging a little.
She giggles, because this is going to be a lot of fun.
She waits until after dinner, when Frank's sprawled out on the couch, relaxed. Jamia slides into his lap, knees digging into the couch on either side of his hips, arms wrapping around his neck. "Hey, baby," she smiles, leaning in for a kiss.
Frank's hands automatically grab her hips, fingers pressing into her flesh a little. "Hey," he echoes, hands sliding up her back. "You looking for some trouble?" He waggles his eyebrows at her, and Jamia can't help but laugh. Frank's ridiculous and a dick but he's hers, she won't let him go, ever.
"I'm always looking for trouble, pretty boy." She nips at his neck, right where the scorpion is, and he shivers under her. "You gonna let me tie you up and fuck you?"
He turns pink and looks down, unable to hold her gaze. Frank curses worse than a sailor, has a wide repertoire of obscene hand gestures, and yet she can make him blush like a virgin.
Frank loves it when she fucks him with her cock. When one of the straps on her old harness had broken, he'd come home with a box, wrapped carefully in festive paper. She'd opened it and found a beautiful leather harness, supple and soft, and a dildo to match. Jamia made sure to not mention that the new dildo was significantly bigger than the old one; it wasn't her place to judge.
Jamia rocks her hips a little and can feel how hard Frank is under her. "Is that something you want?" She keeps her voice soft and low, almost soothing.
Frank nods, watching her from the corner of his eye, and sometimes Jamia makes him say the words out loud, his cheeks flushed, but not tonight. Tonight she's after bigger game.
She sucks on his earlobe for a moment, tasting metal and skin, before whispering, "Go wait for me in the bedroom." She gets up off his lap and goes into the kitchen, and she doesn't look back to see if he does as she says.
Jamia takes her time, because Frank needs to learn patience. She rises their dinner dishes and puts them into the dishwasher, wipes down the counters, and turns off the lights. She makes sure the door's locked, and the curtains are drawn.
In the bedroom, she finds that Frank has lit some of the candles she keeps on the dresser. It's dim and quiet and he's kneeling on the floor next to the bed, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. The candles throw flickering shadows on the walls.
"Look at you," she murmurs, shutting the door and leaning against it. "You're fucking gorgeous." There's a sheen of sweat on his skin and she can hear how he's struggling to control his breathing, each inhale and exhale ragged and loud. "Don't move," she says. She doesn't raise her voice, but pitches it so it's clear to Frank that it's an order.
Jamia takes her time, slowly stripping off her clothes, leaving them where they fall. Frank's watching her, she can tell by the way he's gone still, peeking at her from under his eyelashes. She makes a show out of putting on the harness, smoothing her fingers over the leather straps, cinching it tight.
She's using the dildo he loves, the big one, and she sees him shiver when she gives it a couple of strokes. "You want this, baby?"
Frank nods, eyes hidden by the dark curtain of his hair.
"Is that how you answer me?"
He straightens his back and lifts his chin. "No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Better," Jamia sighs. She steps forward, letting her hips sway a little, cocky and sure. "You gonna be a good little cocksucker for me? Get my dick nice and slick, so I can slide it right in? C'mon baby, open up."
Frank bites back a gasp and Jamia can see how hard his cock is. He leans forward and takes in her fake dick, lips stretched wide around it. Jamia watches him struggle, choking a little as he goes too far, balance shot by the way his hands are still linked together behind his back. He's trying so hard to please her, and that just makes Jamia's pussy ache.
"Such a good boy," she croons, pressing her thighs together. It doesn't help; she can feel how wet she is, and she just wants. She can't wait anymore. "Get up there, on your back."
Frank pulls off her cock with an obscene slurp and scrambles onto the bed, arms stretched above his head. She'd bought him some lovely fake leather cuffs, but it turned out that Frank likes the roughness of rope, how it abrades the delicate skin around his wrists when he pulls against it. Jamia doesn't approve, but she usually indulges him. Tonight is no different.
The rope is scarlet red and is beautiful against his skin. Jamia presses kisses to his hands as she binds them, and Frank makes a hungry sound. She drops a kiss on his forehead as she digs through the bedside table for what she needs, the dildo wagging ridiculously as she moves. She bites back a giggle, because she wants to keep the mood serious. Jamia's still pretty pissed that Frank's been such a douche.
She moves to the foot of the bed, pushing her way between Frank's legs, looking at him spread out for her, tied up and helpless. He's panting, pulling on the ropes a little, and he's absolutely gorgeous. "My pretty little boy," she whispers. "So desperate for my cock, yeah?" Jamia slicks her fingers up and circles his hole, teasing him with barely-there touches. "Gonna open you up with my fingers, make sure you can take this fat cock of mine."
Frank cries out when she pushes in. Jamia knows exactly how much he can take, and she likes to shove him right up to the edge of his boundaries. "Oh, fuck—" he gasps when she curls her fingers and presses. He bends his knees and arches his back, and Jamia can see how close he is already. She adds another finger and watches as Frank rocks his hips, trying to get more.
"You ready, baby?"
"Yes, please, Jamia, I need—please ma'am—" He throws his head back and gasps when she leans down to lick the head of his dick.
"What do you need, Frank? Tell me." Jamia loves it when he gets like this, shaking and stumbling over his words.
"Fuck me," he moans, and she arranges another pillow under his hips. Jamia takes her time, even though Frank's desperate for it, pushing his legs apart and carefully arranging them over her thighs. He's pretty flexible, and this position makes it easy for her to look at him as she fucks him.
She loves seeing his expressions; when she's fucking him, he can't hide what he's feeling, it just shows on his face, raw and open and heartfelt. It make her chest and throat feel tight, and butterflies flutter in her stomach. She always wonders what he sees when he's fucking her.
"Please, ma'am," Frank whispers hoarsely, and it brings Jamia back to the here-and-now.
"Ah," she sighs. She loves it when he's like this. Jamia leans forward, pressing in, slow, so slow. Even though she'd fingered him good, he's still tense and tight, fighting her. Pushing her, like always. She stops, stroking her fingers up and down his legs, tracing the dark lines of his tattoos. Frank's trembling, struggling against the ropes, trying to get her deeper, but she waits him out. "You forget who's in charge, baby?" she asks, tugging on his balls.
"No! No, Jamia, I remember, I promise, you, it's you, always you—"
"Good boy," she whispers. She pinches his nipple, hard, and it distracts him enough that she pushes all the way into him with a grunt. Frank's thrown his head back, mouth open around a gasp, and he's beautiful like this, laid out and exposed. She can see all of him and she can't help feeling possessive. He belongs to her.
His cock is hard and flushed and she hides a grin at that. The first time she'd fucked him, he'd lost his boner and he'd been embarrassed, but she'd made him hard again with her mouth and it worked out alright in the end. His hole is stretched wide around her cock and Jamia can't help herself, she has to touch. "Sometimes I think about seeing how much more you can take," she says. "Maybe a couple of fingers with my cock, hmmm?"
Frank whimpers; Jamia knows that he gets really sensitive when she's fucking him, which makes him irresistible to her. She teases that bit of flesh between his hole and his balls, pressing firmly and making him writhe under her.
"J, please, fuck me, I need you to—" He tugs at the rope, trying to free himself, and Jamia lets herself smile.
She slides out of him, almost all the way, and shoves back in. Frank makes the most incredible sound, high and helpless, and her pussy throbs in response. "Ask nicely, baby."
"Please, please, J, I—please, J—"
"Ma'am," she reminds him with another hard thrust.
"Ma'am," he echoes breathlessly. "Please, ma'am, fuck me."
They've done this enough times that Jamia feels confident enough in what she's doing. Plus, she knows what Frank likes, so it doesn't take long before she's hitting the rhythm that makes him fall apart, and he's gasping out little ah sounds as she fucks into him. She's panting with the effort, mouth dry, but she keeps going.
Frank's face is red and his cock is leaking, curving over his belly. She cups his balls, feeling how tight they are; he's close, so close, but he can't get there without her help. He's tried, but he needs a hand on his dick to come, and Jamia's deliberately not touching him there.
Jamia knees her way closer, spreading his legs wider, circling her hips and grinding her cock inside him as deep as she can. Frank cries out, and Jamia takes pity on him, stroking her hands up his sides and giving him a minute to catch his breath. He's covered in sweat, his hair's wet with it, and the air's thick with the smell of sex. It's filthy and dirty and God, she loves him so much.
"You wanna come, baby?"
Frank inhales slowly, and nods. "Please, ma'am."
She started rocking her hips, almost gently. "You been a good boy?"
His hands clench into fists when she strokes her fingers lightly up his dick. "Yes, yes, ma'am, I've been good—"
Jamia slams into him. "Oh? You sure about that, baby?" She watches with interest as he squirms under her, trying to lift his hips enough to rub his dick against her, desperate for any friction at all. She crouches over him, hands caging his head, shifting the angle of her cock and he grunts. "I don't think you've been good at all."
"Jamia—" His eyes fly open in surprise. She takes advantage of his distraction and starts fucking him again, long smooth strokes.
"You've been a sexist asshole since you've gotten back, and I. Don't. Like. It." She emphasizes each word with a rough thrust. "I'm fucking tired of it."
Frank keens, and presses his cheek to the pillow, back bowing as Jamia works her fake cock into him, pounding into him as hard as she can. "I'm sorry, J, sorry, sorry, I—" His voice catches on a sob. "Please, ma'am, I promise I'll be better, be so good for you, always so good for you, please, please—" He's shaking and panting, hoarse as he begs.
"Frank, look at me," she says, slowing down a little. She waits until he opens his eyes, and focuses on her, because this is important. "I love you," she says. "So fucking much. Even when you're a bad boy." She wraps her hand around his dick and starts jacking him. "Come for me."
He loses his words, then, shuddering. His face is twisted, almost like he's in pain, but the way he's moaning tells Jamia that's not the case. It doesn't take long, a few more strokes and he's clenching around her dick as he comes, She wishes she could feel it, but settles for petting the long muscles in thighs, feeling them twitch as his orgasm moves through him.
Jamia holds still, pressed deep inside of Frank. She knows he's going to be really sensitive once he comes down and she doesn't want to hurt him. His hair is fucked up, and she brushes it off his face. He's so beautiful, with his pointy chin and laughing eyes, the hint of a terrible mustache ghosting his upper lip.
Frank's eyes flutter open, and he immediately starts wriggling under her, hissing as it shifts her cock inside him. "Please, J, ma'am, let me, it's my turn, please, let me make you come, please—"
She raises an eyebrow and sits back, slowly pulling out of him. She sees him wince, and knows that he's going to definitely be walking funny for the next couple of days. The knowledge satisfies some deep, primal part of her. Mine. Jamia unbuckles the harness and pulls it off, rubbing at where it chafed a little.
The arousal that's been simmering in her blood since she started plotting her revenge burns hotter, brighter, now that she's not completely focused on Frank. Her skin is misted with sweat and she feels overheated. She wants, her cunt is so wet and she needs something hard stretching her wide, filling her.
Jamia slides her fingers into her pussy, then pulls them out and starts licking them. "You wanna eat me out, baby? Get my smell all over your face and suck on my clit until I come?"
Frank nods, comically fast. "Yes, ma'am, I'll eat you out so good, make you come as many times as you need, please, ma'am, want that—"
"Mmm." She slides her fingers back between her legs, arching her back and making a little show of it. "Next time, after you've shown me what a good boy you can be," she says, breathily.
He whines. "Ma'am, please, let me show you how good I am with my mouth."
She's tempted, she really is, but she's already so close. It's not going to take long at all to make herself come. "No." Jamia rubs at her clit, using her own wetness to ease the way. "Oh, God," she sighs, shuddering as her body tightens in pleasure. She keeps circling her clit, because she can feel another orgasm lurking, and it takes her by surprise when it zings through her a few moments later.
She sits for a few moments, panting, feeling her cunt flutter and pulse under her fingers. She wants to just flop down and pass out, but she can't. Not yet.
"I love you," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Frank's lips.
He grins. "Even when I'm a douchebag?"
"Even then," she says, and wipes her fingers over his lips, leaving behind her scent, teasing him. She climbs out of bed and staggers toward the bathroom.
Frank pulls on the ropes hard enough to make the bed squeak. "Not fair, J, come back here!"
Jamia smiles at her reflection in the mirror, flushed and sweaty, hair sticking up in different directions, fucked up and fucked out. It's not the perfect fairy tale princess life she was promised, but it's hers. And she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.