Chapter 3: Hangover
“NNnnn…!” Fiona whimpered desperately as her fingers moved between her legs without any grace or elegance. Nothing she was doing had any tenderness or grace. She had a need, and her whole body felt so hot with it. Her thermometer denied the change in temperature, but her body felt a good five degrees too hot to take, and all of that heat was coming from her pussy. “Why… why won’t you just cum… Just cum…! It’s never been this hard before… fuck…!”
Tears poured down her face, tears of shame and need mingling together as she collapsed back on her bed, her slick fingers falling onto her sheets.
Saying that things could have gone better would have been be a massive understatement.
Not only had she woken up in the park the next morning without the briefcase, and with her face covered with Evanthe’s juices, with her body twisted all out of shape… but she was supposed to exchange the money to learn where the young woman was being held captive.
She didn’t have the money or the girl.
Compounding everything, she couldn’t even cum. Whatever that woman had done to her body was definitely having a lasting effect. She was needy, but nothing satisfied that need.
Everything only made it worse.
I still need to call Denise and tell her I fucked up… I need to tell her that I couldn’t get the girl back… that I’m a failure… NNn… Fuck, I need to do it less horny…! Her hand again ended up between her legs, furiously rubbing tight spirals at the tip of her clit as her hips bucked high off of her bed.
She’d already called out from work. There was no way she could be seen as Fiona, not today, not so helplessly flushed and horny. She was half afraid that, if she did show up to work, she’d pull whoever she could into a bathroom or a closet and plead with them to fuck her brains out, just to need the next coworker to take her that much more. Staying home from work all week wasn’t going to work out, but she hoped that, with a little effort, she could find the willpower to fight back against the demands of her pussy.
Denise only heard from her at night. She knew that Figura only existed at night. Maybe she’d called and left a voice mail on the phone she reserved for Figura, but Fiona was too ashamed, too embarrassed, too horrified to check.
That, and she could barely make her way through one phone call.
“Nnn…!” Her pussy was sore from squeezing around her fingers, but Fiona needed it. She needed it more than she needed to eat. She needed it more than anything. “P-please…!”
After another desperate attempt to push herself over the edge that resulted in nothing more than desperate cries—and nearly bringing herself to actual tears—Fiona forced herself into the shower… but not a cold shower.
She needed something warmer to work off all of the sweat coating her body.
Rubbing the soap over her bare skin was difficult. She kept brushing curves that made her eyes roll back into her head, kept grazing smooth skin that made her thighs clench. I’ve been horny before… oh fuck have I been horny before, but this… this is… This is something else entirely…! Nothing has ever been this bad!
Just when she was done washing her hair, a task made more grueling with each graze of her nails against her scalp making her nipples stand on end, another rush of need hit.
Fiona curled up in the corner of the shower, legs spread, fingers desperately rubbing along her raw, dripping cunt. Her eyes were practically mindless, her mouth hanging open as she panted with a raw desperation.
Evanthe… Evanthe… Evanthe…!
All she could picture, all she could imagine, was the orange-haired woman’s pussy rubbing against her face. Fiona could still smell her scent and taste her on her tongue. She could still feel her breasts straining against her leotard. Without even thinking, they again grew at her chest, suddenly heavy and dripping with water as her fingers furiously rubbed and she arched out her back with a pitiful cry.
Please… Please let me cum…!
In her belly, the pressure felt like it was rising higher and higher, growing stronger, more desperate, closer, so close she could taste it…
Only to soar higher, to make her skin burn hotter. The quicker she tried to chase after the elusive pleasure, the more insistently it pulled away. Fiona hadn’t felt so powerless for years. No matter how her fingers stretched or bent, they couldn’t find the right place to rub quickly enough or long enough to make her cum.
All she could find were deeper depths of desperation.
I paid you… I paid you so much… You didn’t give me what I need at all…!
Fiona had never felt so denied by her own touch before. Her whole body felt perpetually on the edge of orgasm, her skin humming and pulsing with that sensation of tightening, of quivering, of anticipation…
Only for it to fade into a greater need.
Evanthe’s every kiss had been intoxicating, and now she was paying the price. She wasn’t sure what she could have done, not when she was explicitly there to not cause problems, to not be a hero, but everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. Not only were her plans to expand her heroic career feeling in jeopardy—when she could think outside of her needy pussy—but she had a debilitating new level of arousal that felt like it would never leave.
If it doesn’t stop… If it doesn’t diminish, I… I’ll just… I’ll lose it! I’ll go mad… I… I…
It was easy to imagine what might become of her. She spent enough time protecting sex workers. Maybe one of them could share their client list, or maybe she could just learn from them to find her own. Maybe Beltran could find someone who wanted a metahuman prostitute.
Maybe she’d just beg Denise for the contact information of the women who had that girl captive and offer herself for the ransom…
Fiona spent so long masturbating in the corner of her shower that the water went cold. She didn’t remember falling onto her side, but that was where she was when the cold water rained down across her quivering, twitching body.
I need… I need to get this under control! Fuck… Pull yourself together…!
Soaping herself up again, much more slowly, and much more carefully, Fiona managed to finish her shower. Toweling off was another challenge that required more willpower than it ever had before, but she hoped it was a good sign that she was capable of it at all.
It was well past noon when she’d finally managed to pull herself out of bed, yet by the time she’d finished her shower it wasn’t that late.
Either this hangover is lightening up, or… or I’m adjusting…! Careful to stop herself from getting too excited, Fiona pulled on a terrycloth robe and made her way slowly to the kitchen. Food… Food should help. I don’t know how I was able to crawl into the window like this… adrenaline, maybe? Waking up in the park was…
A flash of memory, her hands desperately grasping at the bench to stop themselves from shooting between her legs, was all she needed to remember of that.
Shaking her head, she grasped just as tightly on the handle for her stove. Eat… Just… Try to eat. Slowly. Carefully. Then… Then… Fiona shuddered, slowly shaking her head. Then… Then… I don’t know… Then maybe my head will work a little better, and then I can try to figure out what I’m going to tell Denise. Since that wasn’t in the contract, I’m not in violation, but… This is about more than a contract…!
Her pussy throbbed, and her wounded ego pulsed. Fiona had no choice but to do her best to ignore both sources of agony, no matter how much she craved to surrender to either, even just for a moment.
There were more important things to do.