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)
“Good girl,” he said, once the tremors had subsided in both our bodies. He rubbed my back gently, the way a rider praises a fine mount, and I whimpered in humiliated pride to have given him such intimate, forbidden pleasure. As I felt him soften inside me, I sensed my need begin to return, and that made me whimper again.
I bit my lip, caught in a terrible dilemma. Could I say it? Christian kept rubbing my back, gently, as if he were waiting for me to speak—to show him I understood my place… my story.
“Sir?” I whispered softly, a blush warming my cheeks. I kept my eyes shut, but that couldn’t take the embarrassment away. “Did I… did I take my ass-fucking like a good girl?”
“Yes, Leah,” he said, his voice sounding very high above me. “Like a very good girl. I’m going to open your pussy for you, once I get cleaned up a little.” He pulled his cock out of my no-longer-virgin bottom. I gave a little cry of shame as I felt my anus close at last, at how strange and terribly dirty it felt to be a girl who got fucked in her ass when her wealthy sponsor chose that avenue for his enjoyment. “Get up and take off your panties, then fix your garter belt. Go ahead into the bedroom and lie on the bed with your knees nice and high. I’ll bring the solvent.”
CHAPTER 36
Leah
Christian emerged from the bathroom after only a minute or two. Somehow, despite everything I had experienced, all the degrading submission I had undergone, the feeling of spreading myself that way, waiting for my master to arrive and mold me to his sexual will again, had still made my face burn. He had taken all his clothes off, I noticed with a hard swallow; I hadn’t even noticed as I got up from the fucking table in my detached, floating state, and seemed to move on a cloud, or maybe in a cloud, from the living room to my bed. I looked at him, unfathomably gorgeous, hard in every imaginable sense and yet with a soft, even tender expression on his face as he gazed back at me. The sheer imposition of this dominant, hairy, muscular, utterly naked man on the view of my bedroom took my breath away. I felt, to my startled surprise, tears forming in the corners of my eyes—not of shame, let alone of fear… not really even of regretful submission.
Of joy, I realized after a moment. I didn’t think I’d ever actually cried tears of joy before. If I had tried to imagine, just last week, what could make me weep with happiness, I would never, ever have supposed it would involve bring dressed in naughty lingerie—minus panties—or holding my knees back and wide to reveal my sealed pussy… or seeing the man who had just deflowered my ass approaching with his enormous, rigid cock swaying menacingly at me.
Christian smiled, and the contentment on his face, the satisfaction to have claimed me as his property, drew a sob from my chest. For an instant his forehead clouded, as if my tears mystified him. Then the smile got wider, and I knew that once again he had, apparently, read my mind.
Or… maybe it didn’t involve telepathy at all. Maybe it had to do with his skill as a storyteller—as the Academy Award-winning producer of the stories that thrilled audiences worldwide. He knew my story better than I did, even the parts yet to come. He knew the beats and the laugh lines and the parts where a girl like me might feel overwhelmed with happiness in what would seem, in another kind of tale, an utterly inappropriate moment.
Slowly, he approached, until he stood next to the bed, gazing down into my eyes. My lips parted. My breath caught in my throat; the expression on his face suddenly seemed so dominant and so hungry, as if my tears had brought out not only his satisfaction but also his aggression. My heart started to beat wildly in my chest as Christian began to lean down, slowly coming closer to me. He put his hands on the bed and he lowered his face toward mine, hunger and happiness seeming to mingle so thoroughly in his eyes that I could only lie there, eyes wide and mouth open.
My master kissed me tenderly and slowly, but somehow at the same time very dominantly. The position of his face over mine, the relationship between our two postures, the simple fact that as I received his affectionate lips, I burned down below to have my other, more intimate lips opened at last—all of it made me feel like Christian’s kiss, as soft as it felt, also represented once again my servitude as his pampered fuck toy.