Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 61287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Trust me. He had given that command, and he had said he had feelings for me, and I could see those feelings in his eyes. Somehow he knew that I needed to serve him in this humiliating way—that I needed to learn to serve him on my knees, attending his hardness as he punished another girl for her disobedience.
If Master G had tried to teach me that, I understood, I would have obeyed him the same way all the angels in our training group did—but I wouldn’t have learned it, because I wouldn’t have let myself see how deep the need inside me was. It would have seemed like a thing I did because my trainer commanded it—not something my master demanded because he knew how it would change me if I really did confront my own dark desires.
With his eyes still locked on mine, Master Hendryk reached out his left hand a few inches and took firm hold of my chin. He pressed on either side of my mouth to open my lips further. With a little sob of submission I put my tongue out the way I knew a dominant man likes, when he thrusts into a girl’s mouth.
Master Hendryk shifted his feet slightly and leaned forward. He laid the head of his iron-hard cock on my tongue. He shifted his hand to the back of my head and, our gazes still entwined, he drove his hardness into me, beginning to fuck my face hard and fast from the very first stroke.
He spoke to Candy, then, with his eyes still fixed on me.
“Twelve strokes for disobedience,” he said. “You’ll count them.”
He kept watching me even as I sensed him lifting the cane from Candy’s bottom. His fingers twined in my hair, keeping my mouth firmly in place for his manhood’s pleasure.
“You know what to say, Candy,” he told her. “Or will your first stroke not count?”
Still he looked down into my eyes, surely so that he could see me take him as deep as he wanted to thrust, the way I had learned at the Institute. I had received that expert training, though, without true understanding—without the kind of real education only a teacher like Master Hendryk could provide.
In his eyes I saw it: the actual reason for my being on my knees with his massive penis ruling my mouth like a literal rod of iron… the reason why I had to learn how to please a dominant man in that degrading way.
Not because the Institute had ‘recruited’ me—it was after all more like they had simply taken me because Selecta could do that sort of thing nowadays. Not because of what Master G had taught me about my sexuality, which had left me feeling in control, as if I could enjoy my submission or leave it alone, as if I could play with it.
That hadn’t constituted a lie—or even, really, a misrepresentation. And what Master Hendryk had started to teach me didn’t contradict the idea that a submissive girl like me could find great pleasure in playing naughty dominance-and-submission games with a wide range of similarly inclined men and women. But confronted by my new owner’s individual version of dominance, his uncompromising will to humiliate me, to discipline me, to use me in whatever way pleased him best, I had begun to learn a much harder lesson, not from the outside in but from the inside out.
Play was fine, but true submission lay deeper, in a place of necessity where my master demanded my worship and I had no choice but to give it. In this way, with him filling my mouth with cock over and over, the head of his erection pushing against the back of my throat and demanding all my concentration to suppress my gag reflex.
With my face down and my ass up, for him to enjoy me along whichever path suited his fancy of the moment: to fill my hot, greedy pussy… to stretch my poor little anus even further than he already had… to whip me without mercy, the way he would now whip Candy.
I knew very well what Master Hendryk was waiting to hear from Candy. So simple: three syllables, and yet she hadn’t uttered them.
I felt his body tense, and I saw his eyes move to the side, as if to take aim at my artificial bed sister’s red bottom. I heard the terrifying sound of the cane whistling through the air, so close to where his hard cock moved in a steady rhythm between my lips and over my tongue. The impact, the unmistakable thwack at the end of the swish sounded in my ears, not as sharp as the smack of a spank with hand or paddle but much scarier. A split second later, Candy gave a pitiful yelp.