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)
Under his gaze I felt my face crumple into a mask of woe. Shelly let out a deeper moan, as if the idea of me watching her husband ride her like a wayward filly intensified her shame and pleasure to another level.
“Please, sir,” I sobbed, my fantasy coming to pass. “Please, may I?”
Shelly let out a scream that could only mean she had started to come. Jake moved his right hand up her back to twine his fingers in her hair. He turned his attention back to her and let out a grunt that I thought meant his orgasm had gotten very close, too.
“Down, girl,” he commanded, and I could see how his hands enforced his will. “Arch your back.”
Shelly’s climax went on and on, or maybe she had one after the other the same way Jake had forced multiple orgasms on me. I realized that I had started to whimper with every breath as I watched him hold himself deep inside her, his hands keeping her still as his rock-hard butt jerked and tensed with his release.
I wondered what it felt like. I longed to know what sensations Jake’s warm seed gave his wife, and what it meant to her to have her pussy be the place he liked to put his essence, when he had finished using her. I felt my arm twitch again with the temptation to think about it with my hand between my legs, which seemed suddenly the best way to consider the question.
But Jake turned back to me, and my hand froze atop my head.
“Shelly likes me to come inside her,” he told me. He rubbed her back gently, as it heaved with the exertion of her climax. “Don’t you, hon?”
“Yes, sir,” I heard her say in a voice that sounded weak.
“We can’t have kids,” Jake told me. “Just one of those things. But a husband’s seed belongs in his wife’s womb. You’ll understand when your suitor fucks you. We’ll get you set up with birth control before then.”
At breakfast, with a cushion under my sore butt, the previous night seemed like a dream. Jake had already gone out to plow or sow or harvest or something else farm-y. Shelly fed me eggs and bacon that tasted like some god had blessed her frying pan with eternal tastiness. I searched her face, when she had her attention on the stove, for any sign of embarrassment about what had happened in the living room the night before, and found nothing but sunny morning cheerfulness.
I had barely noticed the little room she had led me to, after my whipping and her fucking; I had fallen into a dreamless sleep the moment I had pulled off my jeans all the way and lain down—on my front of course. In the morning, awoken by the sounds coming upstairs from the kitchen, I had found a new toothbrush and a fluffy towel waiting for me in a neat little pile on the bathroom sink.
Back in the bedroom, I had noticed a chair with a dress hanging on the back, looking like it had last been worn in the 1950s. On the seat of the chair had sat a pair of pink cotton panties a size too large for me. With deeply mixed feelings, I had put them on, and then the ankle socks and black flats I found under the chair, feeling like a country schoolgirl from a movie.
“We’ll go into town after breakfast,” Shelly told me as I crunched buttered toast. “We’ll shop for some things for your room, if you want, and some proper clothes of your own. Then we’ll go to the doctor to have your IUD inserted. You and the other girls have a New Modesty meeting at eleven: they’ll fill you in on the details of courtship in Grasskiln.”
My lips parted and my heart rate sped up, but Shelly had said all these alarming things as if she were telling me about the day’s weather, and I couldn’t manage to find any words to challenge these clearly benign—in my foster mother’s mind, anyway—facts about my day.
Shelly took me to the town’s little department store. She encouraged me to choose two posters from fantasy shows I liked, and a big handbag—“for your activities,” she told me. Then she led me to the lingerie section and stopped in front of a rack with white shorts that seemed to be made of a very thick, stretchy cotton fabric. Their legs looked long enough to come down almost to my knees.
A sign on top of the rack said, ‘Training Panties: $0.99 (subsidized by the New Modesty Authority).’ I felt my face go bright red as I remembered what Jake had said about using these embarrassing things to keep me from playing with myself. I had dismissed his words as a silly attempt to threaten me with a childish punishment that didn’t actually exist in the real world. The row of underwear in front of me told me he had spoken only the truth.