Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Look at this sweet cunt,” she breathed, and I felt her fingers trace through my wetness. “Absolutely drenched from serving another woman. No wonder Scott is so taken with you.”
Without warning, she leaned forward, and I felt her hot breath against my sensitive flesh. When her tongue made contact with my clit, I screamed into her, the sound muffled by her body pressing down on my face. She licked me with the same authority she’d shown in everything else, her tongue circling my swollen bud while one finger pressed against my rear entrance.
The multiple sensation—her pussy on my mouth, her mouth on mine—created a feedback loop of pleasure that made rational thought impossible. When her finger breached my still-sore bottom-hole, I came instantly, violently, my whole body convulsing beneath her. She didn’t stop, working me through one climax and into another, until I was sobbing and shaking, my face covered in her arousal and my own tears.
“I know I’m being selfish,” Melissa panted above me, her hips beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm against my face. “But your mouth feels so perfect, Grace. I could ride you for hours.”
She shifted slightly, angling herself differently, and I gasped as best I could with her weight pressing down on me. My tongue ached from the unfamiliar exertion, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t disappoint her. The way she ground against me, using my face for her pleasure with such casual ownership, made my newly exposed pussy clench with desperate need.
“That’s it,” she murmured, her movements becoming more forceful. “Such a good girl. Now…” She lifted slightly, repositioning, and my eyes widened as I understood what she wanted. “Lick my asshole, Grace. Show me you understand complete submission.”
My face burned with fresh humiliation, but I obeyed, my tongue tentatively exploring this new, even more degrading territory. The sound Melissa made—half growl, half whimper—told me I was doing it right. She squirmed against me, her bottom pressing firmly against my mouth as she chased her pleasure.
“Yes,” she hissed, her thighs trembling. “Just like that. God, Grace, you’re a natural little slut, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t answer, could only continue my shameful service as she rode my face with increasing desperation. When she finally came, it was with a cry that must have echoed through the adjacent offices. Her whole body shuddered above me, and I felt her wetness increase against my chin as her climax overtook her.
But she didn’t move away. Instead, she shifted into a lazy, almost meditative rhythm, her pussy sliding slowly across my chin, my lips, my nose. I could barely breathe, gasping for air whenever she lifted slightly, but she seemed lost in her own world.
“I’ve been thinking about Debbie’s story,” she said conversationally, as if she weren’t still using my face as her personal pleasure device. “The footage from her punishment sessions, her training with her suitor. There’s something raw there, something we haven’t fully captured yet.”
She paused to grind particularly firmly against my mouth, making me whimper. “I want to create something different. Not just the standard domination narrative, but something that explores the psychology of it. The way a girl like Debbie—or you—processes the shame and arousal together.”
Her movements had become almost hypnotic, a slow figure-eight pattern that kept me on the edge of suffocation. “We could intercut her punishment scenes with confessional segments. Have her—maybe following a script that you could write, from your own experience—describe not just what’s happening, but why she needs it. The relief that comes with surrendering control.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Melissa rose from my face. I gasped desperately for air, my face soaked and sticky, my jaw aching.
She stood gracefully, smoothing her skirt back down while I remained sprawled on the ottoman, trying to catch my breath. My mind raced with the implications of what she’d just said about Debbie’s story, and suddenly, unexpectedly, ideas began flooding through my brain.
“What if…” I started, then stopped, unsure if I should speak. But Melissa’s expectant gaze encouraged me to continue. I pushed myself up to sitting, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “What if we don’t just use confessionals? What if we show the internal dialogue during the punishment itself?”
Melissa’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Go on.”
The words tumbled out faster now, my analytical mind finally finding purchase despite my body’s exhausted state. “We could use split screens—show Debbie being spanked on one side, but on the other, show her earlier that day, maybe touching herself while thinking about her suitor. Or show her writing in a diary about wanting to be punished. Make it clear that the discipline isn’t just happening to her—she’s been craving it, orchestrating it even.”
“Orchestrating it?” Melissa leaned against her desk, genuinely intrigued.
I nodded eagerly, warming to my theme. “Think about it—in the original edit, Debbie ‘accidentally’ breaks rules. But what if we reframe those moments? Show her deliberately leaving her chores undone, knowing exactly what will happen. Add voiceover of her thinking ‘If I don’t fold the laundry properly, he’ll have to correct me.’ Make her an active participant in her own submission rather than just a recipient.”