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)
He had it to my waist. The fabric tugged against my tummy, caught between my body and the couch. Its shoulders lay around my wrists, resting along my hips.
“You can help me, Leah,” he said, “or I can rip it.”
CHAPTER 17
Leah
Something completely new—or maybe something that had existed inside me forever but had only just emerged into the light—came into my mind.
“What happens… what happens to me… to my… my pussy,” I whispered, barely managing to say the naughty word. “If you have to rip the romper?”
With his hands around my waist, nearly encircling the bottom of my ribcage, Christian bent over me and put his lips next to my ear. I could feel the warmth of his breath there as he spoke softly but with such gravity that the sound sent a chill and then a wave of heat through my whole body, even before I understood the terrible meaning of his words.
“There’s a new kind of disciplinary measure for naughty girls,” he told me, letting that sink in—letting the fear build in my mind even as my pussy also responded down below. “I think it would be a very helpful lesson for you, Leah.”
“Wh-what is it?” I stammered, trying to turn my head to get a glimpse of him.
Christian’s right hand moved downward over my hip. He slid it inside the seat of my romper yet again, then boldly took hold of me from behind, forcing my thighs apart so that he could seize my whole pussy in his hand. I moaned piteously at the wave of wanton need that swept through me.
For a long moment he just held me that way, his left hand controllingly at my waist, and his right hand possessively between my legs, as if to teach me that he would touch his fuck toy exactly as he pleased. His thumb went almost casually between my bottom-cheeks, and I let out a whimper as I felt him rub gently along the narrow strip of the thong that covered my most intimate, most shameful place.
“Tell me!” I burst out, my hips bucking upward, treasonously seeking more stimulation. “Please…”
“Please what?” Christian asked, his mouth almost touching my ear. The thumb went up and down. His fingers gave a tiny squeeze, through the strange-feeling lace of my naughty panties, right where I needed much more pressure, applied much more directly.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, understanding and realizing I had no choice at all… that this man knew how to get his way, where a disobedient bed girl was concerned. “Sir… please, sir… please tell me.”
I could feel myself spinning off into outer space again, my words becoming delirious as my body yielded to Christian’s knowing touch and his dominant words.
“If you make me rip your romper,” he said at last, raising his voice just a little so that I could hear the steel edge, “I’m going to close up your pussy and keep it that way until you learn to obey me.”
My body responded so wildly to his insane threat that Christian had to hold me in place. He moved his left hand to my back to keep me down while his right moved on my backside, spreading his grip to immobilize me. I hadn’t tried to twist away, though; rather, my back had arched, and my hips had moved violently back, trying to press my private places further into Christian’s hand.
My mind reeled in two directions—first at the horrific meaning of what he had just said, second and much worse, at the way my pussy had reacted with a clench so hard it made me dizzy. He had to be making it up, right? It couldn’t be real.
If he did that… how could he… how could he fuck me?
The answer, as if revealed by the gentle movement of Christian’s thumb between my ass-cheeks just a moment before, came into my mind so swiftly and so helplessly that the idea alone drew a whimper from me. His hands seemed to hold me still for a second, as if assuring me once again of his control, and then to my surprise they moved again and quickly stripped the romper the rest of the way down my legs.
“Good girl,” he said, standing up to loom over me.
My back arched as I realized what had happened, and I saw it in the inward-reflecting picture window: a well-dressed man standing over a girl in her underwear, bent over the back of her couch. That helpless thrust of my hips when I had heard Christian’s terrible threat had moved my lower body back far enough to free the romper from between my belly and the couch.
I had the instant thought—half hopeful and half, to my horror, disappointed—that what Christian had said must have represented only a wicked fantasy, told only in order to make my body react, so that he could finish stripping me. For a split second I considered asking, but my brain recoiled, my rationality declaring loudly that of course the awful thing he had said couldn’t have any relation to the real world—that it could only be the product of a dark, twisted imagination.