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“Good girl,” Mary said. “You got your underwear a little wet, didn’t you? That tiny spot is worth a few hundred extra in your allowance, I’m sure.”
CHAPTER6
Leah
My face burned like the noonday sun.
“Turn your face over your shoulder and look at me,” Mary commanded. “And you can go ahead and put your hand inside your panties, too. You’re thinking about how much you need a good, firm-handed sponsor who’ll keep you in line.”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
I can’t, my mind said, but when I saw the lens of the camera staring back at me my brow furrowed even harder, and as if under its own power I felt my right hand lift off the bed, while I lowered the weight of my upper body onto my left elbow.
“I can’t,” I whispered, even as I felt my fingers working their way beneath the waistband of the panties I had gotten much too wet, to the place that needed attention far too urgently.
“Mm-hmm,” Mary said, somehow making even that nonverbal encouragement sound as if it came from a man’s throat. “That’s it, Leah. You know you need it, don’t you?”
I gave a tiny cry as my two middle fingertips found the wrinkly hood of my clit and started to rub. I closed my eyes as I heard the shutter snap picture after picture, and I breathed shallowly, rapidly through parted lips.
I rubbed, because I couldn’t help it. My hips started to move in a lewd rhythm, with the cadence of simulated sex, I knew, despite being a virgin. Someday—someday very soon, I suddenly knew with a new flash of heat all over my body—a man would put his hard cock inside me, only a few inches from where my naughty fingers tried so desperately to satisfy me.
I heard the click of the shutter move to the side, so that Mary must be standing directly behind me. She took pictures not of my face, now, as wanton and blushing as my face had become, but only of my bottom and my panty-covered pussy, and my wicked hand inside my underwear rubbing frantically up and down my private lips, returning to my tingling clit over and over.
“Oh, God,” I said again. I heard a whining, desperate sound emerge from my throat.
“Pull them aside, sweetie,” Mary said. “Show him what he wants to see.”
What he…a firm-handed man…what a firm-handed man wants to see…
Not my face: the man who would pay my allowance might like to look at my pretty face, but what he wanted to see was the place where he would thrust his hardness… the place where he would… where he woulduseme…
Firm-handed… hard… so hard…
I felt my back arch, shamelessly and instinctively offering my backside to the imaginary man, my wealthy sponsor. I pulled my hand out of my panties and reached it down again, outside the soft gray cotton, to tug the gusset aside. I let out a little cry as I felt how terribly naughty the simple idea of a man who would guide me with loving discipline had made me.
Don’t I need it, though?demanded the voice I had tried so hard to press back.Doesn’t this shameless display show how badly I need it?
It…guidance… discipline… and…
I put my fingers there, at the entrance to the sheath where my sponsor would put his rigid penis. I pressed them inside; I had indeed never done this, and it felt very strange and terribly immodest. Only the doctor had ever put anything inside me, and then only to take a quick look and pronounce me healthy.
I gasped at how wet I had gotten, thinking about all the embarrassing things Mary had said and just rubbing my clit a little. I felt my fingers push up against the barrier and gasped again.
“Pull them aside a little more,” Mary told me. “Your sponsor wants to see everything.”
For a moment I didn’t understand, and then I swallowed hard as I figured it out. With a whimper, I obeyed. How could I deny him even the most private part of me? He would pay my bills… he would give me nice things… he had certainly earned the right to see the tiny place between my bottom-cheeks, the little dimple that made me blush even to think about.
That thought seemed to fire my blood far beyond anything I had even supposed my body might feel. With a whimpering cry I moved my slick fingers back to my clit and started to rub much more firmly. I felt how exposed I had rendered all of my most intimate parts—to the camera, to the men who would look at these terribly wicked pictures on my profile, because they had platinum-level access.
My fingers traveled further down and further back. My hips moved more urgently.
“Do you want to touch yourself there, Leah?” Mary asked, her voice cool. “Go ahead, you naughty girl.”
I pushed my middle finger against the tiny button, and I cried out at the wantonness it made me feel, the need it stimulated even more urgently. The shutter clicked. The thought of the photo Mary had just taken… of a wealthy man looking at that picture, thinking about what a girl who touched herself there might be good for… how he could enjoy her… claim her… train her…
The need grew, further forward. I would die, it felt like, if I didn’t move my fingers to my sopping pussy, my desperately aching clit. I moved my attention back there, rubbing harder and harder, a moan coming out of my mouth. I realized suddenly, with a searing flash of embarrassment, that something, some release, lay over the horizon of my lewd play.
Oh, no. No.But also,I’m going to come. I’m about to have my first orgasm.
