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)
Whore.
My whole body shuddered and I saw a crease that looked in the dark reflection like a chasm appear on my forehead.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
A sweet, disembodied feminine voice said from somewhere near the ceiling, “Sponsorship agreement recognized. Apartment control shared with…” A very slight pause indicated that perhaps a computer system somewhere had to wait a millisecond to access a file, and then the voice of Selecta continued, “Christian… Guzman… platinum level. Priority control assigned to sponsor.”
I had no idea how such a clinical declaration from a digital algorithm could harmonize, lewdly, with the pressure of a rigid cock against the sopping entrance to my vagina. I clenched nonetheless at the Selecta voice’s final sentence. Christian Guzman, whose name of course I instantly recognized from a zillion credit rolls at the beginning and end of movies and shows, had priority control: of my apartment… of my body… of my pussy and my bottom and my mouth… of me.
“Apartment,” Christian said, “pay Leah’s allowance through an additional month, please.”
My breath surged in and out of my mouth. Gratitude filled my chest, but the dirtiest word for what I had just become rose urgently into my brain.
Whore.
My whole body shook. I felt Christian’s hand stroking me, soothing me, and then…
Pressing down to hold me in place. Between my thighs, the soft thing that had gone up and down, in and out, went in—only in, and much more firmly.
I let out a cry of fear and discomfort as my master’s hardness came up against the virgin barrier. I squirmed over the back of the couch, struggling against the pressing hand.
“Shh, Rebel,” he said, holding me in place. “It’s time.”
My next cry, as my back arched hard and my head jerked upward, came from pain. As I felt Christian thrust himself through my virginity and bury his hardness inside my vagina I had another bizarre moment of gratitude: I thanked my keeper, inwardly and above all secretly, for claiming me while I still had that final bit of resistance inside me.
More than any of my other wayward thoughts, that one made me think I had probably actually started to lose my mind. But it had risen to the surface of a consciousness that had traveled even farther out into the galaxy by then. I could tell that that dark craving, that insane yearning to have a man like Christian Guzman take me against my will—and to have him keep doing it until he had trained me as his perfect whore and submissive bed girl—existed in the no-place to which his dominance sent me.
The huge cock rushed into the sheath nature had made for it, until I felt the denim of Christian’s jeans come up against the thoroughly spanked cheeks of my ass. The heavy fabric that covered the muscular strength of his upper thighs pressed on my fingers. Only then did I become aware that despite my final small rebellion I had nevertheless continued to spread myself for my master’s use.
I whimpered: it started as a noise of pain and over-filling, of the terrible, utterly new discomfort of having a man inside me, stretching the most sensitive part of my body—as nature had intended, yes, fine, but also much too hard and much too fast for a young woman who had never been fucked before.
The whimper changed, though, even as it emerged from my mouth. Yes, no man had ever had his rigid penis inside my pussy—but hadn’t Christian made very clear to me that if any girl needed to have her virginity taken hard and fast and rough, I was that girl? I felt myself clench on his cock at the very thought, and then to my complicated surprise and delight he grunted, low in his chest. His hand atop my back convulsed just a little, the fingertips moving with a jerk across my skin.
He felt that, I realized suddenly. My pussy’s contraction had sent a jolt of pleasure through his system. I had that power… or at least my vagina did. Yes, it hurt, down there, and I felt much too full. Christian wanted me to feel that, too; he held himself inside me at full length, I sensed, in order to teach me to receive what he chose to give. Yes, he mastered me more thoroughly with each passing second. But his power over me gave me a certain amount of power over him, too, didn’t it? He wouldn’t have thrust his manhood inside me if he didn’t need me as much as I needed him, would he?
I felt Christian’s hands move, taking hold of my forearms, pulling them away from my backside and then bending them back behind me. I felt him press that tiny bit further into me, and I gasped at how deep the iron bar of his cock had gone inside my needy pussy; it felt as if my sponsor’s rigid penis had reached my ribcage.