Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock flashed 3:18, 3:18, 3:18 in Angela’s face. It briefly illuminated the pages of her textbook, the faded ink blinking in and out from the back of her eyelids. Her head throbbed in a counter melody to the little clock on her dresser. A mug of coffee, long since cold, sat precariously close to the edge on the far side of her messy desk. She adjusted her glasses and stood, rolling her neck and shoulders loose. As much studying as she had done, Angela had a spine tingling feeling that she wasn’t prepared for the next day of lessons.

She got up and padded across the threadbare carpet to her little kitchen area. Amélie’s bed is empty, Angela briefly thought as she opened the peeling cabinets. Her roommate, a leggy Frenchwoman majoring in dance, was often gone at night only to appear in her bed by the morning. She was witty with a sharp tongue, and she was the only reason Angela was able to live anywhere besides her adopted parents’ house while she tried to get her degree. Amélie was a hard worker and paid over half the rent and grocery bill, considering she was the only one with a job of the two of them. Angela was only slightly jealous of the fact that Amélie seemed to have her life put together while she had no job, hand-me-down clothing and survived on instant ramen and coffee.

Angela stretched up on her toes and pulled a packet of chicken flavored ramen out of the pantry and got a pot out from under the counter. She started the noodles boiling and got an egg out of the fridge, tossing it from hand to hand as she leaned against the counter. The floor was cold under her feet and she shivered in the frigid air, wrapping her arms around herself. She glanced up at the clock, 3:22.

After the noodles were perfectly cooked, she got out a bowl and drained the water out of them. She slid them into the bowl, opened and poured the seasoning packet, and cracked the egg into the noodles. She began whisking, watching the noodles become salty, creamy and flavorful. The bowl was warm in her hands and she lifted herself onto the counter to begin eating her delicious and not-so-nutritious dinner.

At 3:47 there was a key turning in the lock, and the door swung open as Amélie sashayed in. Impeccably dressed in black leggings, a white off the shoulder sweater and at least four inch heels that hugged her curves and made her already long legs seem spider-like, she was gorgeous even at the ass-crack of morning and made Angela self-conscious of her ratty shorts and thrift store hoodie.

“Mon ange, what are you still doing awake? You have class at six.” Amélie set down her oversized purse and tossed her keys into the little dish by the door. “And you and I both know the sodium in that bowl of yours is enough to kill a man.”

Angela shrugged and talked around a mouthful of chicken-y goodness, “I was studying. What are you doing home so late?”

“I was out with Lena.” Amélie smirked and licked her lips slowly. Angela shuddered and had to suppress a whimper. She was never quite able to figure out exactly why the idea of Amélie and Lena behind locked doors thrilled her to her core. Amélie chuckled and walked to their fridge, twirling an inky strand of hair around one long finger as she inspected the pitiful collection of one old milk jug, empty orange juice containers and three cans of no-name soda. “We need to restock.”

“I can last a few more days, no need to go buy more.” Angela forced a smile. She didn’t want to lie to Amélie, but she didn’t have enough to pay even what she was supposed to in the way of groceries. “I still have two packs of ramen and almost an entire carton of eggs. I can start making egg dishes.”

“Mon ange, you really need to get a job.” Amélie glanced around the apartment. “Back in Paris, I had a beautiful flat and a fridge stocked full. But I had a full time job as well.”

“That’s my issue!” Angela set down her bowl after scraping the gooey sides of it. “I can’t work full time! And I have no work experience. I can’t keep relying on you and Torbjorn for money.” She shook her head, honey colored ponytail flopping over her shoulders. She pouted. “I’m going to be swimming in debt by the time I’m out of here..”

Amélie sighed and murmured in French as she began unloading her purse. To Angela’s “untrained” eye, it seemed to be more like a satchel: big, bulky and Amélie put anything and everything in it. However, after an hour’s lecture in the history of the bag, she came to realize it was a custom-made something or other from someone’s line of purses from some year she couldn’t remember. Amélie pulled her slim laptop out of the bag, along with a smaller black bag.

The Frenchwoman opened the laptop. The cover was patchworked with stickers. Some were in all black, with quotes from poetry or sticker versions of Amélie’s various tattoos, while some were bright and colorful, very obvious gifts from Lena. The background image was of Amélie with her little English girlfriend. Lena was shorter than Amélie and Angela both, with a shock of short chestnut brown hair and big brown eyes that often reminded Angela of a puppy. She was slim with good musculature, a small but not insignificant chest, and an ass like a perfect peach. In the photo Lena was wearing orange leggings that hugged those powerful legs and plump ass perfectly, paired with sneakers and a white shirt. Amélie was wearing what appeared to be a latex bodysuit with an opening for her breasts and thigh high boots. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and her long arms were wrapped around Lena possessively. Angela had been told they were at some convention when the photo was taken, and she had spent the rest of the time trying to figure out what kind of convention would let Amélie dress like that.

Amélie tied up her hair and pulled up a page with their shared account. The number was low, only maybe enough for another week before the power would be cut and Angela would be relying on the snacks and free lunches from the school.

“I’ll start paying more.” Amélie nodded. “I recently got.. promoted because a spot came up. It’ll be no stretch on me.”

Angela jumped up off the counter. “No! I want to help, please. There has to be a way I can. I’ve sent out so many resumes and none of them have been picked up. I’ll send out more.” Her genius mind began running the numbers. If she got a job, she would have to cut down on her studying and she was barely studying enough… “There’s a coffee shop and bookstore nearby. I can apply there again.”

“Mon ange, you have applied there four times.” Amélie shook her head and stood up, closing her laptop. She slipped it into her bag and picked up the little black bag. It was smooth black velvet and closed with a little drawstring. She often brought home little gifts from her company, like new lipsticks or once a new pair of heels.

She walked towards her little area of the flat and dumped her purse and the little black bag on her bed. She crossed to her dresser and pulled off her white sweater, tossing it in the general direction of the laundry basket. She hooked her thumbs into her leggings and bent almost to the floor as she pulled them down and off, tossing them into the basket successfully. She wore a strapless lavender bra that made her ample tits look absolutely biteable, and the matching lavender thong was see through, providing a sneak peak of her cunt and an eyeful of her pert ass. It jiggled tantalizingly as she rifled through her drawer and pulled out a sheer nightie to wear to bed. Angela bit her lip as she watched her, ocean eyes focused on the smooth, creamy white skin as it was just barely covered up by the little violet nightie.

Amélie walked on her toes towards the bathroom. A bite mark marred the perfection of her thigh, close to her pelvis. The Frenchwoman caught her eye and winked as she walked into their small bathroom, leaving Angela blushing at being caught staring. She pulled out her makeup wipes and endless bottles and jars of skincare products, setting them on the counter. Angela walked over and leaned against the doorframe to watch her. A quick mental calculation ran the price of the products as several hundred dollars, more than what they spent on groceries, sanitary products and the laundromat in two months. Of course she knew that Amélie was more well off than she was, but this well off?

Amélie scrubbed the makeup from her face and began applying the oils and creams and pastes she needed. Angela glanced at her dollar store bottle of honeysuckle scented face wash and picked it up. She got a rag and scrubbed her face as well. She had nothing to cover up the heavy bags under her eyes or the worry lines on her face, but at least her skin was clear. Amélie applied a lip product and then sat on the edge of the tub.

“Bring me that black bag, mon ange.” Angela walked out and returned with the little black bag. Amélie was applying lavender lotion to her legs and Angela’s nose wrinkled in distaste. She hated the scent. “Open it and give me the products.”

Angela nodded and pulled at the little black cords that kept it closed. The bag opened, and she slipped her hand inside and pulled up the product. She gasped and dropped it instantly. It was a purple dildo. The toy was a deep purple and ribbed and veined like a… like a real one. It was long, about the length of her forearm, with a round base. It was lifelike aside from the coloring and the fact there was nobody attached to it. A bottle of oil rolled out of the bag and landed on the floor, popping open. Oil began pouring onto the floor and Angela snatched up the bottle, closed it and dropped it into the sink.

“Merde, mon cœur.” Amélie shook her head and sighed. “Get paper towels and clean it up. And shut your mouth before a fly enters it.” She went back to lathering her legs as Angela rushed to clean up the vanilla scented oil. The blonde could feel her face burning in shock. The toy was staring her in the face as she worked. Eventually the floor was clean and was only a little slick. Amélie scooped up the toy and got the oil out of the sink. She sat back down on the edge of the bathtub. She set the toy and bottle beside her.

“I am assuming you have questions?” The dark haired woman raised a perfect eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You look shell shocked, Angela.”

“I-I just pulled a sex toy out of that bag!” She glanced at the dildo and turned scarlet. “Why do you even have it?”

“It is for work, Ziegler.” Amélie rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and picked up the toy. Her hand curled around it, her long nails resting pretty against it. “I have to prepare for tomorrow.”

Angela blinked in shock and swallowed, looking at the thick toy. “You have to… prepare… for work tomorrow? What do you do..?”

Amélie sighed and slipped her thong off completely, throwing it at Angela teasingly. “Is it not obvious, mon ange? I do porn.” She smiled coyly. Angela blinked then blinked again. Obviously the dancer was gorgeous enough for adult film, but she never fully believed she actually did it.

“What about Lena? Does she not consider it cheating?” She watched as Amélie slicked up two of her fingers. Before her very eyes, the Frenchwoman spread her thighs and easily slipped a finger into her body. Angela’s jaw dropped.

“Lena does it with me.” She sighed and rested her head back against the wall as she began slowly teasing her body open. Angela looked away with a red face. “Her username is Tracer. I’m known as Widowmaker.” Amélie grinned and chuckled. “That photo on my laptop is from an adult toy convention we went to to support the brand.”

Angela nodded, trying to take it all in. “But aren’t you a lesbian? And how does that work?”

“I’m bisexual, thank you. I met Lena on the set of a video I was doing. I was starring in a video with an older, “maturer” actor named Akande and she was coming in to meet one of our older stars to be taken for a test ride. A month later, we were dating.” Amélie shrugged and slipped in another finger, scissoring them gently. She sighed and smiled gently.

Angela hugged herself and leaned against the frame of the door. “So you’ve been doing this for awhile?”

Amélie nodded, looking over at her with hooded eyes. “I used to cam back in Paris. My boss found me that way, and after a few contracts, I joined Talon Entertainment under the name Widowmaker. I worked in Paris for awhile and then when I met Lena, I basically vowed to follow her anywhere. The “home base” for her company was here and so I enrolled in the dance and fine arts program, packed up and moved here a month after she did.”

“Then why do you live with me and not Lena? Wouldn’t you prefer to live with her?” The blonde tilted her head like a confused puppy.

“She lives too far from the campus, and unfortunately her neighbors aren’t too keen on the idea of her having a girlfriend. It got so bad her ex left her over the harassment they received.” Amélie grit her teeth. She slipped in a third finger. Angela glanced down and her eyes widened. She would have never been able to remain silent if she had lasted long enough to stretch herself to such limits.

“Why are you stretching yourself? What happened to the whole “tight fit” thing?” Angela fixed her ponytail and leaned out of the room to check the time. 4: 26.

“I hope you are joking. Whoever told you that a “tight fit” is best, has never pleased a woman. What scumbag did you lose your virginity to?” Amélie cracked an eye open and looked over at her, watching the scarlet rise from her neck to her ears. “You have lost your virginity, right Ziegler?”

“Well.. I never had much time and I was always studying…” Angela rubbed the back of her neck and looked away, crossing her legs. “And nobody ever seemed… right, you know? Ingrid always taught me that you should lose your virginity to someone you truly love.”

“Oh Ziegler.” Amélie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Virginity is a social construct anyway. Being “tight” isn’t what you think. If you’re so tight they can’t slip a finger in, you aren’t ready and you’ll most likely be hurt if things get too rough. The man I am going to be with is very large and my schedule is too packed to allot for much pre-stretching. Obviously during the video there is going to be a lot of foreplay, which loosens you up and turns you on, but people don’t want to see it. People want to see the fucking. So the dildo is to make sure I do not get hurt.”

Angela nodded and watched as her roommate picked up the toy, balanced it perfectly, and sank down onto it slowly. A soft moan was punched out of her, and she tossed her head back. She slowly took in the phallus and sighed softly when she had taken it to the base. Amélie snapped her fingers for her thong, and when Angela threw it to her she slipped them on and stood up. She cleaned off her fingers and pulled out her hair curlers like telling Angela about her chosen career while actively working on it wasn’t causing the Swisswoman to freak out on the floor.

Angela stood and glanced back at the clock. 4:43. She sighed and stretched.

“You need to go to sleep, Angela. You should at least get a little bit of rest before you have to get up again.” Amélie gently patted her back. “We can talk more about it in the morning if you wish.”

Angela nodded and stumbled over to her bed. After making sure her laptop and phone were plugged in she fell amongst the soft sheets and flat pillows, wrapping her yellow comforter around herself and curling into the fetal position. The doctor-to-be resolutely ignored the throbbing ache between her legs and sunk her teeth into her plush bottom lip. This new information spun around in her mind. The idea of her uptight roommate and her bouncy little girlfriend bending over and showing it all for the internet was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying. What all was out there? Were more people she knew involved in that world? Were all of Amélie’s friends involved? How famous was her roommate?

It was almost five-thirty before she fell into a fitful sleep full of images of Amélie fucking herself onto her fingers.

Chapter Text

It was two months before they talked about it. Amélie was assigned a major ballet solo and spent the majority of her time either at the on-campus dance studio or wherever she needed to be to do her job. She only set foot into their apartment twice, and both times to deliver things. Now that she no longer “hid” her profession, it was so obvious to Angela it hurt. The expensive makeup, clothes and shoes, the extensive lingerie collection, the constant bruises, bite marks and hand prints that marred her porcelain flesh; It all was a glaring reminder to the Swiss student that her friend didn’t just have a standard office job. Amélie had even taken to showing off her newfound wealth by constantly adding into their joint account and sending her links to new apartments with actual rooms. Angela had decided to take advantage of the money, and now their measly kitchen was stocked with name brand coffee and more snack cakes, chips and cookies than she probably needed, alongside actual microwave dinners.

The thought of the Frenchwoman’s face (and other parts of her body) plastered onto any adult website stayed in the back of Angela’s head, coming to the forefront when she found herself alone and tired in their shared flat after her day of classes. She kept herself distracted with filling out more and more applications, sending them out to all of the local places that might accept her: coffee shops, book stores, waitressing gigs, retail places, even a part time job at a daycare. Three places had already reached out, and she had scheduled the interviews for the following week. They were barely over the minimum wage, and she would barely be able to work enough hours to make it worth it, but at least she would be contributing.

Angela walked into the flat at the end of the second month and noticed the absence of a purple and black key chain in the dish by the door. She sighed and set her bag in the chair in front of her desk. The blonde rubbed her aching shoulder and slipped off her tattered blue and yellow sneakers as she crossed to the kitchenette, yanking open the door to the fridge in search of something to fill the gaping hole in her stomach. Angela’s head pounded, scientifically correct words slamming against her skull like they wanted to be tattooed onto her brain. She had at least an hour of homework, three hours of studying, and she still needed to rifle through her closet for something presentable enough to wear to a job interview. She pulled out a can of soda and the jelly before straightening up and closing the door. She tossed the grape jelly onto the counter and yanked open a cabinet to hunt of the peanut butter, snapping the top to her soda with one hand.

She eventually found her way to her bed, sitting up against her new plump pillows with her laptop on her lap. The case to it was white with golden angel wings spread over it, a gift from Lena from during her art phase. The background was an old picture of her adopted home, complete with the smiling faces of her family; Torbjorn sitting by the fire, Ingrid serving apple pie, and Brigitte trying to maintain control of her siblings. An old family friend, a man by the name of Reinhardt, sat beside Angela in the photo. He was the reason she was adopted and despite her little puppy crush on him from years ago, she considered him as close as family as the Lindholms.

Angela logged into her laptop and stared at the home page. Everything was perfectly organized, from her photo folders to her research documents. Even her playlists were completely organized. The blonde picked a playlist and let it play from the speakers of her computer. The male voice crooned in her ears, describing making love under the New Mexico sun so sinfully it sent a shiver up her spine. She set her laptop to the side of her and laid down on the bed.

The artist was fantastically gorgeous. He was tan, tall and rugged, with whiskey colored eyes and long curly brown hair. In all of his promotional photos he wore a hat, soul-stealingly tight jeans, chaps, boots and spurs, and a big gold belt buckle that read BAMF, which was also the name of his first album. His poster hung above her bed, with his name spread over the bottom. Cole Cassidy’s pretty eyes and smooth voice had appeared in her dreams just as much as Reinhardt, and Amélie had teased her in the past about moaning his name into her pillow late at night.

Angela slid her eyes closed and let his voice wash over her. He’s soulful voice slid down her body like hands, relaxing her and making her tremble. It had been awhile since she got herself off last.. She squirmed in her tight jeans and t-shirt, suddenly feeling hot and restricted. She sat up and pulled off her top, tossing it across the room and watching it land on Amélie’s bed. The clean white material stuck out like a sore thumb on the black, purple and blue quilt. Her mind wandered back to what her roommate had told her and shown her a couple months before. Angela hadn’t gotten the courage to look up the company, but the name was still stuck in her mind over and over.

She bit her lip and twisted, picking up her computer and balancing it in her lap. With Cassidy’s voice still stroking her mind like a lover’s hands on her body, she opened up her search engine and set it to the incognito browser. Her skin felt hot and sticky and her breasts were already tender. She leaned back against the cool pillows and typed “Widowmaker” into the search bar. The screen lit up with different links to different sites, but the first one stuck out to her: Talon Entertainment. She clicked the link and watched it pull up. The webpage was black and red with the company name at the top. Their were pages for their famous actors and production team (including Amélie), pages to buy products used in videos, a page to sign up to cam, and a page to donate directly to the company.

She clicked to the profile page and began reading. Akande “Doomfist” Ogundimu was the CEO of the company and an old star himself. He was tall and dark skinned with serious eyes, a strong jaw and a thick neck. He wore a white suit in his photo and a cocky grin. The little quote under his photo read, “You can honor me.” Three of his top rated videos were under his little biography, one containing Amélie and two others with an omnic and a black man with a goatee listed as Reaper. His page boasted of his substantial donations to sex education programs and HIV fighting charities, with links to donate and to email him. Angela bit her lip and continued to read over his profile before clicking over to the next one.

Jean-Baptiste Augustine, a muscular man with a sweet smile, Maximillian, the suit-clad omnic present on Doomfist’s page, Olivia Colomar, a small Hispanic girl known online as “Sombra”, and a man named Gabriel, the black man with the goatee who had appeared in a video with Doomfist and who had a link to his newly formed production company, were inspected and observed by the blonde student. Sombra worked both as a minor actress and as the technical supervisor for both Talon Entertainment and Gabriel’s company Blackwatch Productions. BWP was listed as a sister company of both Talon Entertainment and another company known as Overwatch Productions, which was not linked on the page. An Indian woman named Satya was listed as costuming and makeup producer for the three companies as well, and a link and discount code was available for her high-class makeup and lingerie company, Vishkar Corporation. Each profile was similar to Doomfist’s, listing their names and online names, their ages, kinks, work outside of the company, a photo of them and a quote from their most popular video. Amélie’s quote was listed as “Rendez-vous avec la mort” and her most popular video was with Gabriel; She appeared to be wearing the body suit from the photo on her laptop.

Angela read through each page closely, blushing madly at the erotic photos and thumbnails for the videos. The music had changed twice now, still Cassidy’s first album, but she had hardly noticed until now. This song was a duet between himself and the popular Brazilian singer Lúcio Correia dos Santos. The song was an erotic love song that had broken the internet upon its release. The richness of Lúcio’s voice blended so beautifully with Cassidy’s it was almost illegal. She turned the volume up and clicked onto the next profile. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in awe as the fire between her thighs roared to life again.

The woman on the screen had fiery red hair and bright heterocromatic eyes that sparkled like rubies and sapphires. She was pale with a dusting of freckles over her sharp features; A harsh jawline, a slightly crooked nose, and thin lips quirked into a feral smirk. Her eyes were hooded, flirting up at Angela like she was a cut of meat she just wanted to devour slowly, bit by bit. She wore an open buttoned-up shirt in a wine purple that made her skin look deliciously creamy and her hair bright and wild. The shirt barely covered her small perky tits, and a thin teal tie hung down between them, drawing her eyes there immediately. The black slacks she wore hugged thin yet powerful legs that were spread wide in her desk chair. Angela’s eyes followed the curve of her thigh up and her eyes froze on a very obvious, very large bulge straining against the silky black material. One hand with long, thin fingers decorated with long, sharp, purple nails rested against her thigh, tantalizingly close to where Angela wanted it to be. The woman was the personification of sex. The name printed under the photo read Moira O’Deorain, and the quote begged Angela, “Surrender to my will.”

The blonde ripped her eyes away from the photo and stared at the ceiling, panting heavily. Her legs had spread instinctively and she could feel the tremble in her thighs spreading to the rest of her body. Her head was swimming with the image of those legs spread and those eye borring into her, and the primal need to crawl between those gorgeous thighs and beg to have whatever those pants were hiding in her mouth. Angela could feel her jaw ache with the need and a soft whine ripped it’s way out of her throat. She felt like she was on fire, her veins pulsing with liquid magma. Her fingers itched to sink themselves into her body until she was convulsing against the sheets.

Angela sat up and diminished the audio of her music, clicking on Moira’s most popular video. It was a solo video titled “Playing With Bunny.” Angela shucked off her jeans onto the floor, leaving her in her bra, panties and socks. She laid back and set her heels on the bed, letting her legs fall open. She moaned softly; The white material of her panties was obviously see-through, leaving her able to see her dripping cunt. She squirmed, and the slight friction from the soaked material sent electricity up her spine, making her whine. She pulled the computer over and hit play on the video.

The room, an office, was dark and lit only by a small red lamp on the desk. The chair in front of it was a rich leather office chair, black with gold rivets. The carpet was plush and colors ranging from blue to midnight purple danced over its surface, the desk was mahogany wood and beautifully crafted. The background wall was covered in shelves with heavy thick tomes filling them up, their titles and authors invisible to Angela. The angle was close to the floor, like the person was closer to the ground than usual, like they were on their knees. There was silence for a minute, and then the sound of a door opening and shutting. The heavy thud sent a shock through her and instinctively she sat up straighter, her thighs tensing.

The first thing that came into view were a pair of shoes. They were thin-heeled, black leather stiletto boots with red soles that winked as the person moved in front of the camera. The boots covered khaki pants up to the knees, and Angela trembled. A manicured hand appeared and the camera tilted up as if those long fingers were gripping her chin and forcing her to meet the red-blue gaze that appeared on the screen. Scarlet ran from her ankles to her ears and the blonde squirmed despite herself. Those thin lips spread into a small, mocking smile.

“Hello, bunny. Have you been waiting for me?” The woman spoke, and Angela moaned. Her voice was like silk over rocks, thick and gravely with an Irish lilt that made the Swiss woman weak at the knees. She, Moira, spoke quietly and gently right into Angela’s ear. “I’m here, pet. I’m here now.”

Angela sighed softly, “You’re here now.” She blushed at hearing herself talk to her laptop like the Irishwoman was there with her.

Mora chuckled and stood, the camera following her face. She turned and walked to the chair, snapping her fingers for the viewer to follow her. The camera moved jerkily like a body crawling across the floor after hours of sitting. Moira fell into her chair with a sigh and pulled at the tie around her neck, loosening it. The camera went down to where the tie rested against her chest until the woman’s soft, cruel laughter could be heard. The view snapped up to look at her face, and Angela sucked in a breath. Red and blue eyes glared down at her like she was nothing, those perfect lips twisting into a rude sneer.

“My eyes are up here, pet. You’ll do well to remember that.” Moira leaned back in her chair and rolled her neck. Angela watched the muscles shift and move, licking her lips. She wondered how they would feel and taste flexing against her tongue. The camera glided back down again, giving an eye-full of her chest. Angela watched in awe as Moira’s nipples stiffened under her shirt; It was obvious she had no bra, or if she did it didn’t do much. “Are you staring again pet? Well, aren’t you naughty this evening.”

The camera tilted up, showing Moira’s cruelly amused face. She smirked and reached down, tugging at the buttons of her shirt with the claws on her fingers. They popped easily, slowly revealing bits of pale freckled skin. “Is this what you want pet? Do you want me to strip down for your enjoyment? We’re at work, pet.”

Angela shuttered and sighed. She slipped a hand down between her thighs and applied light pressure to her clit, moaning through her teeth at the shock that ran through her. Would those nails feel just as good playing with her poor cunt? The blonde slipped her fingers lower and felt just how soaked she was, whimpering as her fingers were coated in her own arousal. She slipped in a finger and gasped at the hot tightness surrounding her finger.

“Are you enjoying this?” Moira tilted her head and let her shirt fall open. There was no bra to conceal her beautiful chest and the glittering gold rings attached to her nipples. Purple nails reached up and tugged the ring on the right harshly, moaning softly. “Do you want to watch me get off in my office? Hm? Answer me, pet.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, please!” Angela moaned, high pitched and whiny. Her legs began trembling, and she blushed at the humiliation of how fast she was going to come. She forced her fingers away from her sex and shuddered desperately, legs trembling, panting heavily.

Moira reached down and played with the button of her pants, watching her closely. Angela met her eyes through the screen and groaned softly. Long fingers tugged and pulled and suddenly those knaki pants were open. Black lace peaked out, pushed away from her body. The red head pushed her pants down to her mid-thigh and sighed softly, happy to be free of her constricting clothing. She ran a hand through her fiery hair and leaned back, letting her legs fall open. She ran one finger up the bulge on her thigh, shuddering slightly. Angela felt the fire grow in her belly seeing her so obviously enjoying herself.

“You know, I really shouldn’t do this here. I have patients and colleagues who could walk in on us at any moment.” Moira glanced up at the camera. “But that is part of the fun for you, isn’t it? You like the idea of them finding you stripped down to your knickers and gagged on the floor of my office, don’t you? I know you do, I can see how excited you are getting. Be a good bunny and spread your legs for me.” Moira palmed herself through her pants and smirked. Angela let her legs fall open obediently, look up at the screen for approval.

“There you go, good bunny. Oh, just look at you. You’re a pretty pet when you’re all needy for me. You must be so pent up.” Moira pouted mockingly, slipping her hand into her trousers and pulling herself out. Angela gasped and bit her lip to silence herself. Long, thick, pierced and red from arousal. Curved upward proudly, demanding attention and practically making Angela drool like a dog. “Is this the treat you want, pet? Is this what you desire?” Long fingers trailed up the rows of piercings on the underside of her shaft.

Angela nodded and slipped her fingers back down, teasing through the wetness on her thighs. They were slick and shining in the dimming light of the room, reflecting the light from her laptop. Her legs were spread lewdly and her chest heaving. She teased at her swollen clit with her thumb and used her pointer and middle finger to spread herself, the cold air sending a shock through her. She shivered in anticipation of Moira’s next words.

That large hand curled around her cock and stroked once. Moira leaned her head back and let her eyes close in revelry, swearing softly in Irish. The foreign words scratched over Angela’s brain gently and made her eyes roll back as that silk-and-gravel voice stroked her eardrum and lit her nerves on fire. Her clear blue eyes followed the pale hand up and down slowly, biting her lip as Moira’s hand gave a little twist. Another deep moan came through the speakers and she moaned in return, slipping her fingers deep into herself. She was so hot and wet, and her legs trembled from being so pent up.

“I’ve been waiting to come back to you, bunny. I’ve wanted to be here with you warming under my desk for me. I’d leave your jaw so sore you can’t hardly talk.” Moira sighed softly and her hand began to speed up. “I’ve never been so desperate for someone like I am for you, pet. You’ve cost me several pairs of pants, I must admit. I want you, every minute of every day.”

Angela blushed darkly and whimpered, the coil in her stomach growing slightly tighter. “I want you too…”

“Good pet. Go ahead, touch yourself.” Moira chuckled. “My good pet deserves it. Touch yourself.”

Angela whimpered and began moving her fingers quickly, tossing her head back with a high-pitched moan. Her free hand came up and gripped her tit harshly, pulling and tugging the plump muscle. Her thumb brushed over her clit repeatedly and she began making a slow circle with her nail. She shivered and moaned louder, planting her heels into her bed and letting her legs fall open. Her eyes slid closed and she let Moira’s voice fill her ears.

Pretty pet, so good for me… you look so beautiful and handsome dear… good bunny… harder… faster…

Angela whined long and loud, her tongue poked out in bliss and eyes rolled up. Her legs began trembling harder, muscles twitching and shaking as the coil in her stomach became tighter and tighter. She no longer cared about anything but chasing that blissful release, her fingers soaked through and her throat raw from her cries. She arched her back and groaned, looking up and locking eyes with her poster. Staring into Cassidy’s eyes with Moira’s voice in her ears, she screamed through the hardest orgasm of her life, her legs flying up as her body bowed inwards. White flashed through her mind and everything became a happy buzz to her. When she came down from her high, Cassidy was still singing and Moira was softly talking to her pet, telling her to sleep and relax. Angela rolled on her side and stared at that beautiful face on her screen until it went black. The music faded out and she was left alone in the dark.