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)
His left hand gripped my hip more tightly, preventing any attempt at forward movement. I cried out in discomfort as I tried in vain to close my anus against his invading fingers. Christian kept them there, and he turned them slightly, back and forth, as if he meant to help me get used to the utterly degrading sensation… the way it felt to have my bottom forced, like that… to be made to accept such shameful training… the ultimate symbol of my ‘place’—my sexual servitude to a wealthy man.
Desperately, I tried to push him out, letting the mortifying bodily memory he had spoken of take over. A sob burst from my chest as I felt the physical result of the tensing in those different muscles… how it did open me… how instead of pushing my master’s fingers out, it let him insert them further inside the narrow passage… how that made Christian let out a little chuckle, combined with a soft grunt of satisfaction that made my cheeks burn.
“See?” he asked in that patronizing tone of voice that seemed somehow to connect the blush in my face to the warmth down below my belly. “There you go, Rebel. You’re almost ready for my cock now.”
I moaned in a long, drawn-out whine as Christian kept teaching me. His fingers rotated gently, and I kept pushing, shameful as it felt. I had raised my torso and lifted my head as I tried to escape my anal training, and so I could see it in the window: the red-haired, red-faced, nearly naked girl having her flaming bottom prepared for fucking.
“Get back into position,” my keeper told me, reinforcing his words with the pressure of his left hand on my neck. “Face down and ass up.”
With a little cry I obeyed, grateful for an instant not to have to look at the reflection anymore but then, again, unable not to see it in my imagination: my raised backside, my opened asshole, well lubricated now and beginning its training to… to… to…
Getting a punishment bottom-fucking. My sponsor had paid well, hadn’t he, for a fuck toy who could take that kind of ass-fucking? He had every right to close my pussy, if he chose, in order to concentrate my attention on providing a tighter ride for his huge cock. I cried out, and my back arched of its own accord, wantonly and obscenely pressing my bottom further out, impaling myself still more on those pushing, turning fingers despite the flash of pain it brought—because of the flash of pain it brought and how it reminded me of my submissive place.
Christian pulled the fingers out, and a wave of scalding shame traveled up my body to the roots of my hair. He had done it, hadn’t he? He had trained my bottom sufficiently for its first use on a man’s thrusting penis. I closed my eyes even more tightly and I gripped the edge of the fucking table even harder, despite the moment for relaxation my master had allowed me. The rustling sounds of him opening his fly and pulling down his suit pants didn’t permit me any real respite, before I felt his hand on my back again, right atop the garter belt, stroking gently.
“Reach your right hand back,” he ordered. “Pull your ass open for me. Offer me this tight little anus.”
At the same time, I felt the head of his cock, both hard and soft, somehow, lower down, on the seam where the horrid adhesive had joined my outer lips together. I sobbed with need as he used his rigid manhood to press against the covered, tingling bud where he had forbidden any direct access.
I needed… I needed it… so bad. He would open me again, put his beautiful cock in there… let me come… if…
If you give good ass. A new wave of shame shot along my nerves and heated my blood even more as I understood that a girl who gives good ass knows to put her hand back the way Christian had commanded, in order to demonstrate her readiness for the taboo act of masculine dominance, the use of the hole nature hadn’t intended for a man’s thrusting hardness.
The tip of my keeper’s erection moved up and down, pressing firmly at the sealed lips as if to remind me of the promised reward, lewd though it might be. With a whimper so submissive it brought a new blush all on its own, I shifted my weight to my left elbow and reached my right hand back behind me.
The whimper grew into a cry of sharp discomfort as I felt how hot and sore Christian’s belt had left my ass, but that flash of pain instantly became another wave of arousal as I grasped the little round cheek and tugged it open just a little further.