Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
The belt buckle made a soft jingling noise as Christian unfastened it. His face had become very serious, the little smile gone. That in itself nearly brought a sob from my chest; all hope of mercy seemed to vanish with the disappearance of the curve from my sponsor’s lip and the soft sounds of him unbuttoning his fly.
I closed my eyes. Christian’s voice spoke immediately from the darkness.
“No, Leah. Open them. And keep them where you know they belong. Every second you don’t look at your master’s manhood is another pussy spank.”
The words wrenched the sob free. Terror ran up and down my spine and my eyelids flew open, my eyes first going to Christian’s face, before all of his commands made their way into my consciousness. The harsh, hungry expression I saw there forced my eyes instantly downward, though, where I saw it, just springing free without any underwear to get in the way.
My sponsor’s rigid penis jutted out of its nest of wiry curls. He held it in his left hand and stroked it gently. Heat burned my cheeks as I realized that my mouth had started to fill with saliva at the shameful sight of Christian’s hard masculinity.
You sent him home because he told you he meant to train you to suck his cock, admonished the faraway voice of rationality. Now you’re going to do it anyway, but with a sore, sealed pussy. Are you happy, Leah?
My lips parted, but no sound came out. Part of me begged my eyes to turn away, but the fear of punishment kept my gaze there, on the massive member that had ripped through my virginity and given me so much pleasure despite the pain and the humiliation of Christian’s justice. I told myself it was fear, anyway. I swallowed hard, trying to clear some of the shameful moisture from my mouth, but it only returned as I watched as if hypnotized by the steady movements of my master’s hand along the hard shaft.
Deliberately and without haste, he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way and kicked them off, somehow making the awkward motions seem graceful and dominant.
“I’m going to get onto the bed now, Rebel,” he told me, his voice calm and somehow more frightening because of the reassuring tone. “Then I’m going to inspect your pussy before I spank you there.”
CHAPTER 26
Leah
Christian climbed up onto the mattress. On his knees, he still loomed over me, the more menacing the closer he got. My eyes went up to his face, involuntarily, and I had the strange, dissonant feeling of knowing he might well discipline me for violating his command only to look at his cock, and fearing the painful possible consequences—and yet at the same time absolutely needing to see what he would do.
Could he really have meant it—that ridiculous, cartoonishly degrading instruction? Could a rational, fundamentally kind man actually have just told me to keep my eyes only on the rigid symbol of his masculinity and domination? I needed to know… and, much worse, I realized that a deep, basic part of me wanted him to have meant it.
The left side of his mouth went up a millimeter. His eyes narrowed, and a thrill of fear traveled through my whole body because I could see that my master had meant precisely what he said. He had issued an order to keep my gaze downward, on his massive, hard manhood—where it belonged, he had said, I remembered with a flush of heat. Even if in some sense this whole story we had started to tell together represented fiction, fantasy, role-playing… even so, his hand coming down hard on my pussy would bring real pain, and I had clearly just earned more of that.
“Eyes down, Rebel,” he said simply. “Two more spanks for that.”
I heard a little whimper come from my throat and I felt my face crumple as I obeyed. I looked down and I saw him pumping the long, visibly throbbing shaft in his hand. Almost unconsciously, I struggled a bit, trying to move my hands as if I could touch myself too, make myself feel good the same way my keeper did. My knees strained against the straps raising them and folding them back as my bottom clenched and squirmed in search of a tension that might bring a little pleasure to my pussy.
But the restraints prevented it all. Instead of the delight of forbidden friction, the wanton self-stimulation I had discovered, shamefully, as the photographer had taken my intimate photos, I felt only a dull, aching craving for my touch, Christian’s touch—anyone’s touch.
I heard him make a patronizing tsking with his tongue. Blood rushed into my cheeks, and I felt stupidly grateful for the command not to look him in the eye.
“We definitely need to inspect that little pussy, don’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with superiority and condescension. His right hand reached out, slowly, toward the lacy front of my panties. I let out a sob of need before his fingers even came within six inches of the place I so desperately wished for their pressure.