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)
I looked up at him with pursed lips, though. I didn’t have to give into them, did I, those needs? Or maybe I didn’t have to show my master that I couldn’t help craving even this utter humiliation. A surge of discomfort down below made my backside squirm and my forehead crease. I sucked my lips between my teeth a little, and I saw Christian’s face register the desperation in my expression.
“Open your mouth, Rebel,” he told me, his eyes narrowing as he ran his thumb over my lips. “The sooner I come, the sooner you can go to the bathroom.”
“Oh… God,” I whispered at the twin surge of erotic need and pressure from my bladder that his casual, obscene arrogance evoked in me. I looked down at his cock, only an inch from my face now. I took a sharp, quick breath through my nose and I smelled the musky, shameful aroma of my keeper’s masculinity.
Then a pitiful little cry broke from my lips, because down below the sheer need in my closed pussy had made me let go a tiny bit, and I felt a trickle of pee run out, down behind the seal Christian had made, over my bottom hole and onto the towel. With a sob at the sensation—the most shameful thing I had ever felt—I opened my mouth, and I put my tongue out, suddenly eager, desperate to do exactly as my sponsor told me.
He took a deep breath through his own nostrils as with his hand on the back of my neck he bent his knees and leaned forward to enter between my lips. I cried out around his huge, hard cock as he began to fuck my face, gently at first, because the degrading, submissive feeling of it had made me let go of a little more of the warm liquid in my bladder.
The feeling reminded me yet again that my billionaire keeper had sealed me up to keep me obedient to his will. The sensation and the idea together generated so much heat there, precisely where he had forbidden me to find satisfaction, that my hips jerked, and even more pee trickled down, with a hint of the rushing whisper that always made me blush a little when I sat on the toilet.
“That’s it,” Christian murmured, beginning to thrust into my mouth a little deeper and a little faster. My face blazed as I understood that he meant that he had heard me going pee onto the towel. “You can let it all out if you want, Leah, you naughty girl. No spanking for wetting the bed when I make you wait.”
I sobbed as I did my best to keep my jaw loose and my teeth out of the way. I had never done this lewd thing before, but I found I had instincts nonetheless, as if a girl like me was always a cocksucker-in-waiting, before she became a cocksucker-in-training.
I moaned as that thought surfaced, and Christian let out a little grunt that I knew represented pleasure. My hips jerked, my bottom squirmed, and I let out a little more pee, shameless and wayward, suddenly enjoying the wicked sensation.
No spanking for wetting the bed, when your master makes you wait… the sheer wrongness of it made me think about the other possibility… about what would happen if—when?—I wet the bed without the excuse of a keeper’s peremptory pleasure. About how Christian might rub my nose in it… then make me wash the sheets… then put me over his knee to teach me my lesson. All of it wrong, terribly wrong from an educational point of view, a psychological point of view…
Every point of view but the one from the dark story that has me in its irresistible, exciting, degrading clutches.
I felt Christian’s right hand leave my neck. I gave a little whimper around his thrusting erection, because I didn’t want him to do what I knew he would, and I wanted him to do it so very terribly.
I felt his hand down there, where he had bared me, dressed me, stripped me, punished me, deflowered me, sealed me. Instinctively I tensed, stopping the little drops of pee that I’d been allowing to escape. The pressure had eased, so I felt I could control it, and the presence of my sponsor’s caressing fingers sent a new wave of shame through me—I wouldn’t pee on his hand… I wouldn’t…
His hips rocked back and forth, his cock enjoying the soft interior of my mouth. I could feel him looking down at me, at the wanton sight of a well-punished girl learning to suck a man’s hardness.
“Pee on my hand, Leah,” he ordered, his hand holding, squeezing, emphasizing the command.
I made a wordless noise of protest.
He reached his left hand across, to hold my head, and he thrust deeper, as if to make clear what happened to girls who refused their master’s obscene instructions. Between my raised, spread thighs, his hand gripped me more tightly.