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“You have something to do, first,” Christian said, twisting the cap back on the little bottle with the red stripe around it. He reached his hand over me to put it into the cabinet in the headboard.
My headboard, I had to remind myself, because it definitely didn’t feel like any part of the bed, or of the apartment, belonged to me. The jolt of arousal that thought sent through my body made me feel even less attached to my body: some version of me lay spread and strapped down to the bed that belonged to my master even though I slept in it while another version hovered on a different dimension, watching and…
I felt my forehead crease.
And enjoying. Enjoying it: the voyage to outer space and the story of the girl whose sponsor sealed her pussy up for her, so that she could learn her lesson.
I noticed distantly that Christian had gotten off the bed, had disappeared into the bathroom, had returned with a towel. It all seemed to happen at the very same time, like a movie whose individual moments had somehow gotten superimposed on one another: suddenly, it seemed to my hovering self, the mouth-wateringly gorgeous naked man with the enormous hard cock had started to put a folded towel under my backside.
“Oh, no,” I whispered as the reason for the towel belatedly made its way into my mind.
“Just in case,” Christian said.
He doesn’t want to make me sleep on a soaking mattress, at least,thought an irrationally, insanely grateful part of my brain.He’s basically kind, just like I always imagined.
He got off the bed, and I watched him walk back around it, wondering desperately what he meant to do. He stood looking down at me, framed in the light coming from the bathroom door, his hardness in his left hand, stroking it gently. A new, hot blush rose to my cheeks, and at the same time my bladder cried out so urgently for release that I let out a sob as I clamped down, my backside squirming shamefully with the effort.
The sob drew itself out, to my dismay, because the erotic power of this utterly degrading moment suddenly showed itself to me. I had no idea how the panicky, uncomfortable feeling of having to hold my pee in could call up such a wave of wanton need in my pussy, but the need for sexual release as well as the relief of my bladder sent a shudder through my whole body.
“Hold it in as long as you can, Rebel,” Christian told me, as he put his right knee on the bed to climb up again, and I suddenly understood what he had meant about having something to do. “But the towel is there if you need to go.”
“Oh, God… please… sir,” I whispered. “Please… not like this?”
But Christian had gotten fully on the bed already, and he had started knee-walking toward my face. He reached his hand out to stroke my cheek.
“Yes, Leah,” he murmured, turning my face so that he could aim his huge cock directly at my lips. “Just like this. Open your mouth. I’m going to train you a little, and come on your face. Then I’ll let you go to the toilet.”
CHAPTER29
Leah
I felt torn between gratitude that my sponsor always told me precisely what to expect and abject humiliation at the obscene plan he had just laid out. The very idea, though, that I might feelthankfulthat Christian had just told me all that… that he intended to put his rigid penis in my mouth, then to spurt his seed onto my face, all the while apparently not caring at all whether I helplessly peed… wet myself out the little hole he had left me in my sealed labia… onto the towel he had placed there for the purpose…
The remaining, detached, rational part of my mind gave up on calling it crazy to feel gratitude for my sponsor informing me of his degrading intentions. By this point, it just seemed like the unfortunate consequence of my ingrained needs.
I looked up at him with pursed lips, though. I didn’t have to give into them, did I, those needs? Or maybe I didn’t have toshowmy master that I couldn’t help craving even this utter humiliation. A surge of discomfort down below made my backside squirm and my forehead crease. I sucked my lips between my teeth a little, and I saw Christian’s face register the desperation in my expression.
“Open your mouth, Rebel,” he told me, his eyes narrowing as he ran his thumb over my lips. “The sooner I come, the sooner you can go to the bathroom.”
“Oh… God,” I whispered at the twin surge of erotic need and pressure from my bladder that his casual, obscene arrogance evoked in me. I looked down at his cock, only an inch from my face now. I took a sharp, quick breath through my nose and I smelled the musky, shameful aroma of my keeper’s masculinity.
Then a pitiful little cry broke from my lips, because down below the sheer need in my closed pussy had made me let go a tiny bit, and I felt a trickle of pee run out, down behind the seal Christian had made, over my bottom hole and onto the towel. With a sob at the sensation—the most shameful thing I had ever felt—I opened my mouth, and I put my tongue out, suddenly eager, desperate to do exactly as my sponsor told me.
He took a deep breath through his own nostrils as with his hand on the back of my neck he bent his knees and leaned forward to enter between my lips. I cried out around his huge, hard cock as he began to fuck my face, gently at first, because the degrading, submissive feeling of it had made me let go of a little more of the warm liquid in my bladder.
The feeling reminded me yet again that my billionaire keeper had sealed me up to keep me obedient to his will. The sensation and the idea together generated so much heat there, precisely where he had forbidden me to find satisfaction, that my hips jerked, and even more pee trickled down, with a hint of the rushing whisper that always made me blush a little when I sat on the toilet.
“That’s it,” Christian murmured, beginning to thrust into my mouth a little deeper and a little faster. My face blazed as I understood that he meant that he had heard me going pee onto the towel. “You can let it all out if you want, Leah, you naughty girl. No spanking for wetting the bed when I make you wait.”
I sobbed as I did my best to keep my jaw loose and my teeth out of the way. I had never done this lewd thing before, but I found I had instincts nonetheless, as if a girl like me was always a cocksucker-in-waiting, before she became a cocksucker-in-training.
I moaned as that thought surfaced, and Christian let out a little grunt that I knew represented pleasure. My hips jerked, my bottom squirmed, and I let out a little more pee, shameless and wayward, suddenly enjoying the wicked sensation.
No spanking for wetting the bed, when your master makes you wait…the sheer wrongness of it made me think about the other possibility… about what would happen if—when?—I wet the bed without the excuse of a keeper’s peremptory pleasure. About how Christian might rub my nose in it… then make me wash the sheets… then put me over his knee to teach me my lesson. All of it wrong, terribly wrong from an educational point of view, a psychological point of view…
Every point of view but the one from the dark story that has me in its irresistible, exciting, degrading clutches.
I felt Christian’s right hand leave my neck. I gave a little whimper around his thrusting erection, because I didn’t want him to do what I knew he would, and I wanted him to do it so very terribly.
