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Instead, with deft, quick movements, he started to undress. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he unbuttoned his shirt. I gasped at the mere sight of his chest, of the dark, curly hair that said so clearly,I am a man.Instinctively, I started to struggle against the restraints that bound me to the bed.
“Wait… wait… sir…” I said, babbling, “I… you… just, wait…”
Christian didn’t wait. He had his shirt unbuttoned all the way. He had tugged its front out of the waistband of his jeans. He started to unbutton his cuffs.
“Shh, Rebel,” he said, his voice returning to the taming, gentle, patronizing tone of the animal trainer. “It’s time to see what your master looks like without his clothes on.”
My breath had begun to come in tiny pants. Of course I had seen pictures. I hadn’t sought them out, really… or I had always told myself that I hadn’t. They had made my face get hot, and I had scrolled away from them quickly. Maybe I had wanted to find one, or two, just to see—but I had definitely closed the browser as soon as I had seen, out of sheer embarrassment.
Christian shrugged his shirt from his shoulders, and I heard the rustle of it as it fell to the bedroom carpet.
“Oh, God,” I whispered. He smiled broadly for a moment. He knew how strong an effect his bulging biceps and chiseled abs would have on me: this man knew how his body could make a girl’s mouth water and, down below, her pussy clench. I lowered my eyes, helplessly, to look at my lacy panties, terrified that I had made a visible wet spot on their gusset—despite knowing that even in this position I couldn’t see all the way to the place any wet spot would appear.
Christian could see, though: I lifted my gaze again and found him focused on my face, but when we made eye contact, he looked down—as if he had waited for me to look at him, so that I could watch him look down at my lace-covered pussy, at the thong’s narrow strip running between the little round apples of my bottom.
I couldn’t see myself reflected in his eyes, really—but, to my distress, Ifeltlike I could. When his hands went to the big Western-style buckle of his jeans belt and he returned his gaze to my face, I let out a little whimper of unmistakable need. It felt like the most humiliating thing that had happened yet tonight; I felt like Christian could see into my soul, and that it didn’t even take very much of his hyper-intelligent mental capacity to understand precisely what he saw there.
A wayward, naughty, needy girl. A submissive fuck toy, badly requiring proper training to make her as enjoyable to use as she should be. The kind of young woman who sees a dominant man looking lustfully at her bound, almost naked body and feels her shameless, whorish pussy ache for his huge, hard cock.
The belt buckle made a soft jingling noise as Christian unfastened it. His face had become very serious, the little smile gone. That in itself nearly brought a sob from my chest; all hope of mercy seemed to vanish with the disappearance of the curve from my sponsor’s lip and the soft sounds of him unbuttoning his fly.
I closed my eyes. Christian’s voice spoke immediately from the darkness.
“No, Leah. Open them. And keep them where you know they belong. Every second you don’t look at your master’s manhood is another pussy spank.”
The words wrenched the sob free. Terror ran up and down my spine and my eyelids flew open, my eyes first going to Christian’s face, before all of his commands made their way into my consciousness. The harsh, hungry expression I saw there forced my eyes instantly downward, though, where I saw it, just springing free without any underwear to get in the way.
My sponsor’s rigid penis jutted out of its nest of wiry curls. He held it in his left hand and stroked it gently. Heat burned my cheeks as I realized that my mouth had started to fill with saliva at the shameful sight of Christian’s hard masculinity.
You sent him home because he told you he meant to train you to suck his cock,admonished the faraway voice of rationality.Now you’re going to do it anyway, but with a sore, sealed pussy. Are you happy, Leah?
My lips parted, but no sound came out. Part of me begged my eyes to turn away, but the fear of punishment kept my gaze there, on the massive member that had ripped through my virginity and given me so much pleasure despite the pain and the humiliation of Christian’s justice. Itoldmyself it was fear, anyway. I swallowed hard, trying to clear some of the shameful moisture from my mouth, but it only returned as I watched as if hypnotized by the steady movements of my master’s hand along the hard shaft.
Deliberately and without haste, he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way and kicked them off, somehow making the awkward motions seem graceful and dominant.
“I’m going to get onto the bed now, Rebel,” he told me, his voice calm and somehow more frightening because of the reassuring tone. “Then I’m going to inspect your pussy before I spank you there.”
CHAPTER26
Leah
Christian climbed up onto the mattress. On his knees, he still loomed over me, the more menacing the closer he got. My eyes went up to his face, involuntarily, and I had the strange, dissonant feeling of knowing he might well discipline me for violating his command only to look at his cock, and fearing the painful possible consequences—and yet at the same time absolutely needing to see what he would do.
Could he really have meant it—that ridiculous, cartoonishly degrading instruction? Could a rational, fundamentally kind man actually have just told me to keep my eyes only on the rigid symbol of his masculinity and domination? I needed to know… and, much worse, I realized that a deep, basic part of mewantedhim to have meant it.
The left side of his mouth went up a millimeter. His eyes narrowed, and a thrill of fear traveled through my whole body because I could see that my master had meant precisely what he said. He had issued an order to keep my gaze downward, on his massive, hard manhood—where it belonged,he had said, I remembered with a flush of heat. Even if in some sense this whole story we had started to tell together represented fiction, fantasy, role-playing… even so, his hand coming down hard on my pussy would bring real pain, and I had clearly just earned more of that.
“Eyes down, Rebel,” he said simply. “Two more spanks for that.”
I heard a little whimper come from my throat and I felt my face crumple as I obeyed. I looked down and I saw him pumping the long, visibly throbbing shaft in his hand. Almost unconsciously, I struggled a bit, trying to move my hands as if I could touch myself too, make myself feel good the same way my keeper did. My knees strained against the straps raising them and folding them back as my bottom clenched and squirmed in search of a tension that might bring a little pleasure to my pussy.
But the restraints prevented it all. Instead of the delight of forbidden friction, the wanton self-stimulation I had discovered, shamefully, as the photographer had taken my intimate photos, I felt only a dull, aching craving for my touch, Christian’s touch—anyone’s touch.
I heard him make a patronizing tsking with his tongue. Blood rushed into my cheeks, and I felt stupidly grateful for the command not to look him in the eye.
“We definitely need to inspect that little pussy, don’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with superiority and condescension. His right hand reached out, slowly, toward the lacy front of my panties. I let out a sob of need before his fingers even came within six inches of the place I so desperately wished for their pressure.
For a moment terror filled my chest that the pitiful noise would cause Christian to stop his hand’s movement. The terrible paradox of my submission, the way it seemed that from henceforth my master’s pleasure must come before my own, opened before me as a sort of yawning chasm of endless aching need.
