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At the Institute I had had to get used to the feeling—shared by all the girls there, our teachers assured us—of helpless arousal at the suffering of our fellow bed girls. I had thought I knew how strong it could get inside me, and what it felt like. Nothing, though, had prepared me for how the sight of Master Hendryk punishing Candy with pleasure affected me.
“Drop the towel, Renee,” he said, not raising his voice into any obvious sort of authoritative tone, but nevertheless issuing the abrupt command with a kind of casual arrogance that sent an unwelcome electric thrill to my clit. “I want you to play with yourself while you watch me punish your bed sister.”
My hands clutched the soft terrycloth more tightly instead.
“I… I…” I stammered. I had never masturbated before my arrival at the Institute. Master G had taught me—or really had instructed me to teach myself. He had watched me bring myself to orgasm for the first time, with mortifying awkwardness. Then he had made me do it every night in bed to help me get in touch with my submissive needs. I had kind of gotten used to that, but it still felt very embarrassing even all by myself in the dark.
To have my frightening new owner command the shameful act so brusquely sent me into a panicky, defensive state on its own. Much worse, though, my confused and terribly confusing thoughts and feelings about Candy made the idea of touching my pussy while Master Hendryk disciplined her this breathtakingly humiliating way seem impossible—partly because my mind felt so desperate to understand what it all meant and partly because to my dismay Iwantedto play with myself so very much.
Master G had explained to me the reason I had never masturbated despite the strength of my submissive sexual needs. It lay, he had said, in my natural fear, shared by so many submissives, of what would become of me if anyone—paradoxically but also logically including me—found out about the dark desires inside me. If, for example, someone were to discover what happened inside me when I heard about another girl getting spanked.
Or watched another girl grasping her ankles while her owner worked her poor bare pussy like he’s kneading dough.
Candy’s cries rang piteously off the echoing tiled walls of the bathroom. Master Hendryk had his thumb in her bottom-hole and his middle two fingers inside her vagina. His hand moved rhythmically, and Candy’s noises came from her bent-over chest in the same rhythm. Her hips, too, pushed up with our owner’s brutal cadence.
I looked up from my artificial bed sister’s backside into Master Hendryk’s face. My hands tightened on the towel.
“Do as you’re told, Renee,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he beheld my apparent disobedience. “I want to see your hand on your pussy in the next five seconds, or the whipping you get will be a lot more painful than those three strokes last night were.”
My lips parted and my fingers let go of the towel at the same moment. I couldn’t even tell whether I had meant to drop it, or it had fallen from my hand out of the fear that had gripped me at my master’s threat. I thrust my hand down and put it over my pussy. I started to stroke the tender cleft, my middle finger rubbing along the center, between my inner lips. I did it mechanically, and although I felt such urgent need inside my fingers on my just-dried labia didn’t provide any satisfaction.
“Put them inside,” Master Hendryk commanded over Candy’s sobbing moans. “Get some of those naughty juices so you can make yourself feel good.”
Something about the tone of his voice seemed to open a floodgate onto the swirling mass of my confused thoughts. The way Master Hendryk simplysaidthat kind of thing, as if he were making ordinary conversation, brought a protest to my lips.
“B-but…” I stammered.
When Master G had given me instructions, some of them just as lewd as the command Master Hendryk had just spoken, he had used a voice that suggested he understood how difficult an independent young woman like me would find it to obey. My new owner, on the other hand, uttered his obscene orders as if, on the contrary, a girl like me should know very well the importance of probing inside her aching vagina and gathering her wetness to spread it to her clit.
Suddenly I needed him to know that I couldn’t do it—not with the sight of him forcibly pleasuring his artificial concubine in my eyes and the sound of her helpless, uncomfortable arousal in my ears.
“But… But I don’t…” My breathing had gone wild. I took a gulp of air, trying desperately to feel some sense of control, if not over the situation then at least over myself. “Can she… Can she really feel it?”
Master Hendryk looked down at Candy’s raised backside. For a moment I wondered whether what I had just said had only been in my head. Then my owner delivered his response: he took his right hand away from Candy’s pussy and anus and started to spank her pretty bottom hard and fast. Then he glanced at me for a moment before returning his attention to Candy’s quickly reddening rear. Over her shrieks of pain he spoke to me, though he kept his eyes on his AI concubine’s delectable ass.
“It definitelyseemslike she feels it, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yes,” I managed to say. I felt my face pucker into a mask of distress and unwelcome arousal. I whimpered as my fingers obeyed Master Hendryk’s command, and then the whimper became a sob at how shamefully wet I found myself. Through all the conflict in my heart and mind, the absolute need to spread that slick, wonderful moisture upward to where it would help the most with the raging, aching fire prevailed. Without the slightest intention, my left hand went behind me, and it squeezed my caned bottom, my own caned bottom, in some strange kind of sympathy with my bed sister’s terrible ordeal.
My eyes had fixed themselves on Candy’s poor, rosy backside. When Master Hendryk took his hand away, after he had delivered yet another hard spank, I could see her bottom clench and squirm as she tried to ease some of the pain. I could see her little pink pussy, and her little pink anus, so terribly exposed by the shameful position our owner had placed her in. My fingers in front moved on my clit… my fingers behind crept between my own punished bottom-cheeks to touch the forbidden place where Master Hendryk had opened me just last night and fucked me brutally to teach me obedience.
I cried out, because suddenly I had come so close to orgasm I could feel it grip my abs, then my glutes, then the muscles of my thighs. Master Hendryk’s voice stopped my moving hand.
“Don’t you dare come, Renee.”
CHAPTER12
Renee
My whole body froze. I became hyper-aware of where my hands had gone, of the two fingers I had unconsciously thrust inside my pussy to find my g-spot right before Master Hendryk had forbidden the climax… of the middle finger I had poked just a tiny ways into my bottom’s puckered ring. My breath went raggedly in and out between my parted lips. Master Hendryk had stopped spanking Candy and had his hand possessively on her little red bottom, his eyes fixed on me as he caressed the fiery globes while she emitted sobs of pain and need. To my dismay I felt my hips move of their own accord, in search of forbidden pleasure, trying to use my suddenly stilled fingers to find release. I had the terrible urge to fall to my knees and beg my master to let me come… or even to fuck me right there… even to open my ass again on his thrusting cock if that was the way he chose to fill me.
“Come here,” he said, his voice soft but absolutely decisive. “Bring the towel and kneel on it. We’ll finish Candy’s lesson together, and I’ll try to explain a little about her. If you’re a good girl I’ll let you come.”
I shuddered at the way Master Hendryk’s command seemed so perfectly to mirror the idea of kneeling that had just come into my own mind’s eye. My forehead creased hard as I pulled my wanton hands away from my pussy and bottom and stooped down to fetch the towel. Absurdly, I tried to make my movements as graceful as I could, as if it mattered. Again, something about Candy seemed to change the way I thought about myself: she couldn’t do anything awkwardly, as far as I could tell—even bent over into the degrading posture our master had commanded she still somehow looked like a perfect doll, her apple-red backside only setting off the creamy pink and white of her lovely skin more beautifully.
I on the other hand stumbled a little, of course, as I approached them, tripping slightly on the raised metal of the shower door’s jamb. I ended up closer to Master Hendryk and Candy than I wanted to be, but he pointed to a spot on the tiled floor nearer still to the artificial girl’s taut, slightly bent legs.
“Down, my dear,” he said. “Facing me.”
