RESTRICTED ACCESS: Hungrier
au: you are a woman of composure, calm, poise. but inside that specific folder in billie's phone, a restricted access to anyone, contains multiple videos of you that is only for billie's eyes to see.
contains: face riding, filming of sex, use of dildo, fingering, scissoring, scratching, a little edging, subtle praising
an here youu gooo. moved away from g!p cuz this is so delishhh??a bit detailed b4 i leave again lol. (not proofread) PART III of Restricted Access
billie is holding the phone at arm's length, filming the two of you in the mirror of a dimly lit hotel bathroom. she's standing behind you, her front pressed against your back.
she's is buried in your neck, but her eyes are locked on the camera. watching you break under her touch. you reach back, your fingers tangling desperately in her dark hair, and you yank. her head snaps back, exposing her throat, but she doesn't flinch.
instead, she lets out a sharp, jagged laugh and smirks at the lens.
"yeah, do it again," she dares you, her voice a low vibration you can practically feel through the screen.
she's working her fingers into you—deep, fast, and rhythmic. the audio picks up the wet slap of her hand hitting your thigh. you're a mess, whimpering and leaning all your weight into her.
you grab her forearm—the one she's using to ruin you—and dig your nails in. you see the skin turn white under your claws before red lines start to rise.
but then again, she didn't even flinch. she just hummed and placed a soothing kiss on your damp temple.
billie zooms the camera in on her arm, showing the fresh, angry scratches you’ve left. she looks from the marks back to your face in the mirror, her expression pure, smug satisfaction.
she whispers, "damn, look at what you did. you're such a brat," before she bites the shell of your ear and the clip cuts.
Clip 12: the fucking throne
the phone is propped up on the headboard, tilted down. it captures the back of billie's head and the full view of you pinned beneath her.
billie is sitting directly on your face, her weight fully supported by your shoulders. the camera captures her arched back, the muscles in her spine tensing as she grinds her clit against your mouth.
"that's it baby. shit—right there. stay there for me."
the audio is muffled—your gasps for air mixed with her low, steady moans. she's reaching down, her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head to make sure you’re hitting every spot.
she starts to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a frantic, circular motion. needy and desperate. you can see her hand come into frame, reaching down to pull her own folds open so you can get deeper.
she's vocal now, a "fuck, fuck, fuck" rhythm that matches her movements. the camera shakes as you try to buck upward to meet her.
billie stiffens, her fingers digging into your scalp so hard her knuckles go white. she presses down with everything she has, cutting off your air for a second as she rides out the wave.
the clip ends with her collapsing forward onto your chest, gasping for breath, the camera catching her sweaty, stupid grin.
the phone is held in billie's left hand. the flash is on, creating a high-contrast, cinematic look that highlights every bead of sweat and every drop of moisture.
the frame is filled with the sight of her rings—heavy, cold silver—slowly parting your folds. you're visible only from the waist down, trembling so hard the bedsheets beneath you are rustling.
but billie didn't like that. she moved her hand to press against your abdomen, stopping you from thrashing around.
"stay fucking still." she commanded and that made you obey against your own will.
when you behaved enough, billie started using her index finger to trace your length, over and over, never quite hitting the center.
the audio is a symphony of your broken whimpers. you hear her voice, a low, sandpaper rasp just off-camera "look how wet you are for me. you're literally dripping, baby. do you want it?"
you hear yourself beg. a soft, pathetic "please, billie," and she just chuckles.
she shifts the camera angle slightly to show her hand moving. in the clear view, her middle fingers are soaked—showing the camera how fucking easy you are. billie lifted her hand slightly to emphasize your slickness, pressing her middle finger and thumb together before pulling it apart — creating a thin string of your own arousal stretching. she catches the thick, clear pre-cum on her fingertips and brings it back to the frame, smearing it over your clit and deep into your entrance.
"fuck—" you gasped. billie leaned the camera to the end of the bed and placed her palm over your mouth.
"better stay quiet for me, hm? do you want mom to hear how much of a fucking slut you are?"
you totally forgot about maggie and patrick and shark who's pawing outside the door.
and you forgot about how thin the walls are. you whined against her palm. there's nothing you can really do. she's stretching you with her thumb, prepping the tight skin, making sure you’re glistening under the red LED light of her room.
she brings the head of the dildo into the frame. strapped onto her. it's huge, veined, and you can see your future limping. she doesn't go in. she just rubs the head against you, catching on your hood, dragging the length of it through your slickness. you're sobbing now, your hips jerking upward instinctively to find her, but she stays just out of reach.
"tell me whose it is," she demands. you can hear her own breath hitching. she’s just as close as you are.
the camera shakes as she finally commits. she lines herself up and pushes—not fast, but with a steady, crushing weight. the audio captures the loud, wet squelch as the head disappears inside you. your fucking moaned into her palm, a strained note as your body stretches to accommodate her.
she pauses halfway in, letting the camera focus on the way your skin is pulled taut around her base, white-knuckled and pulsing.
the clip ends with her letting out a raspy "fuck, you're so tight," before she slams the rest of the way in, the phone tumbling onto the bed as she grabs your hips to finish you.
the lighting is professional—dim warm light from her lamp that make the slickness of your skin look like gloss.
billie has you propped up on a stack of pillows, legs spread so wide it's almost clinical. she's not even touching you yet—she's just holding the phone inches away from your clit. you see the pulse of your own heart in your folds.
billie's voice is a dark, velvet rasp off-camera "look at that. look how much you're leaking for a piece of plastic. you're literally steaming."
she brings a massive, dark silicone dildo into the frame. it's thick, realistic, and glistening with a fresh coat of lube. she doesn't put it in. she uses the head of it to circle your entrance, catching the strings of your own moisture and stretching them out. she's filming the way your body reaches for it, the way your pussy literally winces and gapes every time the head brushes past.
she finally commits. she pushes the head in just an inch and stops. the camera captures the way you're forced to expand, the skin turning a pale, tight pink. she pulls it out with a loud, wet pop and then rams it back in, three inches deeper.
"nngghh…" you whimper a broken, pathetic sound.
billie zooms in close—you can see the texture of the silicone disappearing into you.
she whispers, "you're so fucking greedy, princess." as she begins a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm.
"oh my fucking god," you breathed out, accidentally block the view of the camera.
that's when the clip ends.
the bed is stripped down to the white sheets, making the flush of your skin and the harsh scratches on billie's thighs stand out in high contrast.
four rounds in when billie decided to try scissoring.
you're both on your sides, legs intertwined in a tight "X" shape. billie has her top leg hooked high over your hip, pinning you down. the camera is zoomed in on the center of the frame—where your clits are locked together.
you can see the moisture already pooling between you, creating a shimmering, wet seal. billie is staring at you, her face inches away, her pupils so blown out her eyes look almost black.
she starts a slow, agonizingly heavy grind. it's not about speed—it's about pressure. the audio captures that thick, squelching sound of skin-on-skin friction. every time she pushes upward, you let out a broken whimper.
"yeah, you like that?" billie smirks, her hand reaching down to grab your waist and pull you even tighter against her.
"listen to that," she whispers, her voice vibrating against your lips. "you're so fucking loud for me."
the pace picks up. bad. desperate. billie is breathing in sharp, jagged hitches. you see the muscles in her calves and back tensing as she drives her weight into you.
the friction is creating a visible lather of slickness. you reach out, clawing at her shoulder, your nails leaving fresh red lines. the clip ends with billie biting her lip with her head thrown back to keep herself from screaming as you both hit a crushing, synchronized peak, the camera shaking from the force of her trembling.
this isn't a sex tape anymore. it’s a "morning after" video billie filmed while you were asleep in her arms. the lighting is soft morning sun filtering through the blinds.
the camera pans over her own body. her shoulders are covered in purple bite marks, her forearms are a map of long, jagged scabs from your nails. girl looks like she’s been in a fight with a tiger and happily married her after.
spoiler: the tiger is you
she turns the camera to you, fast asleep and looking completely innocent. she pans back to her own face—no makeup, tired eyes—and she just shakes her head with that small smile.
billie whispers to the camera, "she's fucking crazy. look at this."
she touches a particularly deep scratch on her bicep and winces slightly, but the smirk never leaves her face.
"i love you so much, angel," she whispers before the clip ends with her leaning over to kiss your forehead.
