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)
I shut my eyes. I couldn’t even tell if my face was hotter with mortification than my pussy was with need.
When I opened my eyes, he was unfastening his belt. He had already shrugged off his jacket and his white shirt. My stomach flipped so hard I thought I might be sick.
“Sir,” I whispered.
“Watch. Eyes back where they belong.”
I obeyed. I couldn’t have looked away if I had wanted to. He pulled off his trousers and his underwear, and his cock looked even harder and heavier. The sight of it sent a fresh pulse straight into my throbbing pussy and then back again into my newly frightened bottom. My anus seemed to clench in anticipation all by itself, remembering the plug, remembering how he had trained me, remembering every terrible thing he had taught my body to feel.
He saw all of that in me. Somehow I knew that simply from the assurance in his posture.
“Put your hands above your head,” he said.
I obeyed.
“Keep your knees up.”
I held them there, though my thighs had begun to tremble almost violently.
He stroked himself once, twice, looking at my face. “Your pussy first,” he repeated. “To get me ready. And because I want you to feel exactly what’s being taken away from your cunt and given to your bottom.”
That made me moan softly despite myself. The words felt like too much. The image they created was too much. My body understood the terrible hierarchy in them before my mind could reject it.
He leaned over me and kissed me.
The tenderness of it after the horrible pussy spanking nearly undid me more thoroughly than the punishment had. His mouth was firm, not soft exactly, but intimate in a way that made my eyes sting afresh. One of his hands slid under my back for leverage. The other spread my thighs wider.
When he broke the kiss he murmured into my ear, “Last chance to tell me you don’t want this arrangement anymore.”
I stared up at him. My cunt throbbed. My bottom clenched. My body was spread in white lace under his weight, and I knew with humiliating clarity that what I feared was no longer separate from what I wanted.
“I don’t want you to end it,” I whispered.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly. Something warmer dawned in his eyes.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t think you did.”
Then he stood up again, and reached for me. His hands closed on my waist at once, firm and assured, and before I had properly braced myself he had drawn me down the bed until my bottom hung over the edge. The shift made me gasp. His palms moved to the backs of my knees and opened me farther, folding me with such ruthless competence that my thighs pressed up toward my ribs and my knees nearly reached my ears. I felt utterly exposed. Not merely naked, not merely available, but furnished as a receptacle for my sponsor’s hardness.
The waistband of the white lace thong still clung uselessly to my hips, the little gusset displaced, my punished sex bared and throbbing in the cool air. I could do nothing but lie there and let him look, and then use what he saw to make himself feel good.
I watched, helplessly fascinated, as he guided himself to me. The broad, hot head of his cock rested at the entrance to my soaking, aching sheath. My body jerked with anticipation before he had even pushed in. I made the mistake then of flicking my eyes up to his face.
The expression there nearly made me cry out: so much hunger… so much possession. A dark, concentrated dominance that brought a humiliating answering clench in my body.
His eyes were gazing steadily down, between us, surveying his conquest of my smooth, punished pussy. “There,” he said softly. “Look how sweet your cunt is when it tightens on the cock.”
Heat flashed all through me. I wanted to deny it, to say I had only clenched from fear, from humiliation, from any explanation but the obvious one. Instead I lay there with my legs held brutally open while the head of his cock pressed into me and my body betrayed me to him in tiny involuntary pulses.
Then his left hand returned to the back of my knee, again holding me spread. “Look at me.”
I did. Again I saw the hunger and the power. Then, with his gaze fixed on mine, he drove into me hard.
The cry tore out of me before I could stop it. He filled me in one brutal, perfect stroke, his cock taking my pussy as if he had every right to the deepest places in me. The impact of it made the bed shift. My whole body jolted in his hands.
“There,” he said, already withdrawing enough to thrust in again. “Take it.”
He fucked me without gentleness and without haste, hard enough that each stroke made me feel the position he had put me in all over again. I could not close my legs. I could not twist away. I could only be penetrated. The spanking had left the whole area oversensitive, and every movement of him inside me seemed to brush all the inflamed places at once. Shame and pleasure and discomfort blurred so thoroughly that I stopped being able to separate them.