Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Heat flooded me all at once. He could see me. Of course he could see me. He had shown me that. But somehow hearing him say it, hearing him make use of it, brought the shame to life—almost as humiliatingly as those simple but filthy words: Present your bottom.
I pushed the covers down, heat surging in me as I revealed myself yet again. Then I turned over and got onto my knees. My whole body felt sore and overused. I lowered my chest to the mattress, then hesitated.
“Higher,” he said. “Get that bottom up, or I’m going to spank it first thing in the morning.”
A shiver ran through me. I raised my hips. The plug made itself known immediately, seated there like a seal my sponsor had placed to mark his property.
“Better,” he said. “Stay like that.”
The pause lasted long enough to make me fully aware of his gaze, of what his eyes must be interested in enjoying. My ass, with the little black flare nestled between the cheeks he had spanked over his knee. My pussy beneath, probably still puffy and damp and indecently responsive… soon to be waxed smooth for him. My back rose and fell with my breath, too quickly for my mental comfort.
Then his voice came again, calmer than my breathing, calmer than my heart.
“Get a pillow.”
I reached forward, fumbling one from under the covers.
“Put it under you. You’re going to hump it.”
For a second I went still with humiliation. Then I moved the pillow beneath my hips.
“With one hand,” he continued, “I want you touching the plug. Move it for me. Use the other arm to hold the pillow, or to hold yourself up. Start.”
I made the tiniest noise, almost not a sound at all.
“Now, Alex.”
I have no choice. He’ll spank me. He’ll cane me.
I whimpered as I pictured it, and I wrapped my left arm around the pillow and lowered myself against it. With my right hand I reached back, fingers trembling, and found the smooth base of the plug. The first tiny movement of it made me gasp. I was sore enough that the sensation bordered on too much at once, not pure pleasure, not pure pain, but something hot and degrading in between.
“Ride,” he said. “Rub that little cunt on that nice pillow.”
I pressed my face into the sheet and rocked against the pillow.
It felt utterly obscene, immediately. Not sexy-obscene in any sort of porno, deliberate sense. But completely humiliating at an animal level. My naked pussy moving against a pillow in the bed he had put me in, my hand at my own ass because he had told me to put it there, while he watched from another floor and listened to the little sounds I couldn’t stop making.
“Good,” he said. “Use the pillow properly. Don’t just wiggle. Show me you need it. Get the pillowcase nice and wet with your sweet cunt.”
My vision seemed to blur from sheer embarrassment. I obeyed more fully, dragging myself against the pillow with a deeper rhythm. The pressure hit my clit through the fabric and made my whole body jolt. At the same time I worked the plug a little, just enough to make the fullness shift in me. The combination instantly felt awful and wonderful.
I was too sore. My bottom still burned from the spanking. My thighs ached. My pussy felt used by my sponsor’s huge, hard cock. My ass was terribly stretched around the toy. None of that prevented my body from answering him.
“Such a needy girl,” he said through the speaker, and I hated the low throb of pleasure the words caused. “Humping a pillow with your butt plug in, because your cunt needs it so much. Such a slut.”
I bit my lip and rocked harder. Like so many of the things Porter said about my hot, dark needs, it didn’t make logical sense: I hadn’t asked to have the toy in my anus, and I hadn’t begged to be allowed to hump this pillow. And yet at the level of my body, of my pussy, it felt much too true.
After a little while the room began to fade. This had happened before with him, that strange splitting. It was as if some central part of me took one look at the humiliation and at the intensity and simply left the Earth, bound for geosynchronous orbit. I remained in my body, obviously, because my body kept moving, but my mind traveled somewhere so far away that I could watch the scene with a terrible clarity from an impossible distance.
There I was, billions of miles away, on hands and knees in a luxurious bed, red hair falling around my face, ass raised, hand moving a plug in and out by fractions while I humped a pillow at a man’s command.
Somehow that dizzying distance made obedience easier. The girl in the bed could do it if I, the self observing from a frozen outer galaxy, was not quite the same girl. She could whimper. She could grind herself shamelessly against the pillow. She could spread her knees wider when he told her to.