Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“That’s it,” Cal said. “Good girl. There are a lot more kinds of discipline than just the strap or a spanking, darlin’. I hear you learned about that, too, last night.”
CHAPTER 20
Grace
He didn’t speak again for a few moments. He let his breathtakingly skillful right hand do the talking. I could tell he meant me to remain hyperconscious of the thick fabric of the humiliating panties while at the same time he gave me a little of the friction I so desperately needed, close enough to the place I really needed it to make my breathing ragged and labored. Mortifying little jerks from my hips, moving me over his thigh, revealed far too much about the effect his hand had on me, but I couldn’t stop the tiny spasms no matter how hard I tried.
No, said that distant observer, resuming her place to the side. You’re not really trying, are you? It feels way too good, doesn’t it?
“Please,” I whispered. “Please… don’t…”
“Don’t what, darlin’?” Cal asked, his voice soft but still so deep it made me feel faint. He spread his hand, so that he could hold my whole bottom in its gentle grasp, and squeezed softly. The keening, whimpering noise that came from my throat sounded like a kitten mewling for milk.
“Don’t do this?” he said in that same low rumble, and he moved his hand. He put two fingers further down, and his thumb up against the place where the training panties covered the valley between my whipped bottom cheeks. He squeezed again, more firmly this time, and he moved the tips of the two fingers right where I needed them so badly—the spot I had both hoped and feared he would put them—rubbing urgently so that even through the thick white cotton I could feel the longed-for friction against my tingling clit.
I cried out, and the bucking of my hips over Cal’s knee up to that moment seemed like nothing compared to the way I moved at this new, terribly possessive caress. I thrust my backside up into his hand, feeling the tension in my bent arm, my captured legs. To my dismay the sensation of restraint, of being held immobile and vulnerable by the muscular body of a gorgeous man, brought its own fierce surge of arousal.
“Should I take your training panties down, Grace?” he asked. “Will you be a good girl for me when I teach you about your pussy and your little bottom?”
“Oh… oh… oh, God…” I sobbed, because Cal hadn’t stopped moving his fingers over my clit as he asked me this utterly degrading question. “Oh, no… oh… oh, please…”
“You’d better go ahead and start calling me sir,” he instructed me. “Same as you do with your foster father.”
I closed my eyes and just breathed, panting, gasping, because I couldn’t think straight enough even to muster words like oh and please. My body had betrayed me completely, and I shamelessly tried to ride Cal’s hand, moving my hips over the rock-hard solidity of his thigh in a rhythm that I knew must seem to him unmistakably sexual. My face burned as I pictured him looking down at the mortifying spectacle of a virgin on her first date with an older man, moving her pantied backside lewdly in his grasp, demonstrating precisely how badly she needs fucking.
Teach you about your pussy and your little bottom… you better start calling me sir.
The shameful memories from the night before, in Jake and Shelly’s living room, rose into my mind to resonate humiliatingly with what Cal was doing to my pussy here over his knee, in his own living room.
I sobbed as I remembered, and compared. My pussy? But wasn’t Cal already showing me that it wasn’t really my pussy—not anymore? Had Jake told him that the pussy I had called my own had come into my foster father’s possession last night, and Cal should feel free to share it with him, as my approved suitor?
“Oh, God…” I whispered. “I’m… I’m…”
Words had returned, but they were even more humiliating. I had no idea how it could possibly be true, but I could feel a climax coming, despite the infuriating thickness of the training panties and the way they kept Cal’s fingers from doing what I really wanted them to do.
He took his hand away. I cried out in mid thrust, and then I went completely limp over his thigh. Cal let go of my wrist, and instead of struggling I brought it forward so that I could cover my burning face with both my hands, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. I sobbed into my hands, in embarrassment but also, and much more, in frustration and desperation.
“That’s your first lesson, darlin’,” Cal said quietly, and he put the hand that had just almost made me come on my back, under my dress, and rubbed a slow circle there, as if comforting me at having lost a toy, or having two scoops of ice cream fall off their cone into the dirt. “Would you like to ask me for your second one?”