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“Get back into position,” my keeper told me, reinforcing his words with the pressure of his left hand on my neck. “Face down and ass up.”
With a little cry I obeyed, grateful for an instant not to have to look at the reflection anymore but then, again, unable not to see it in my imagination: my raised backside, my opened asshole, well lubricated now and beginning its training to… to… to…
Getting a punishment bottom-fucking.My sponsor had paid well, hadn’t he, for a fuck toy who could take that kind of ass-fucking? He had every right to close my pussy, if he chose, in order to concentrate my attention on providing a tighter ride for his huge cock. I cried out, and my back arched of its own accord, wantonly and obscenely pressing my bottom further out, impaling myself still more on those pushing, turning fingers despite the flash of pain it brought—because ofthe flash of pain it brought and how it reminded me of my submissive place.
Christian pulled the fingers out, and a wave of scalding shame traveled up my body to the roots of my hair. He had done it, hadn’t he? He had trained my bottom sufficiently for its first use on a man’s thrusting penis. I closed my eyes even more tightly and I gripped the edge of the fucking table even harder, despite the moment for relaxation my master had allowed me. The rustling sounds of him opening his fly and pulling down his suit pants didn’t permit me any real respite, before I felt his hand on my back again, right atop the garter belt, stroking gently.
“Reach your right hand back,” he ordered. “Pull your ass open for me. Offer me this tight little anus.”
At the same time, I felt the head of his cock, both hard and soft, somehow, lower down, on the seam where the horrid adhesive had joined my outer lips together. I sobbed with need as he used his rigid manhood to press against the covered, tingling bud where he had forbidden any direct access.
I needed… I neededit… so bad. He would open me again, put his beautiful cock in there… let me come… if…
If you give good ass.A new wave of shame shot along my nerves and heated my blood even more as I understood that a girl who gives good ass knows to put her hand back the way Christian had commanded, in order to demonstrate her readiness for the taboo act of masculine dominance, the use of the hole nature hadn’t intended for a man’s thrusting hardness.
The tip of my keeper’s erection moved up and down, pressing firmly at the sealed lips as if to remind me of the promised reward, lewd though it might be. With a whimper so submissive it brought a new blush all on its own, I shifted my weight to my left elbow and reached my right hand back behind me.
The whimper grew into a cry of sharp discomfort as I felt how hot and sore Christian’s belt had left my ass, but that flash of pain instantly became another wave of arousal as I grasped the little round cheek and tugged it open just a little further.
“Good girl,” my master murmured as he moved his hard penis upward and pressed it against the tiny opening. I felt my bottom try to close for just a split second, and I gave a little cry at the stab of pain that resulted from the cock’s relentless movement, enforced by Christian’s taking hold of my garter belt in his right hand and using it to keep my backside in place for him.
I shuddered, and I tugged with my right hand, not just trying to open myself to my master but also trying to remind myself of the punishment he had administered, the need to obey. My body remembered: I pushed, and I felt the tiny muscle relax and yield and start to stretch around the enormous invader.
“Oh…” I sobbed. “Oh… sir…”
My sponsor… my keeper… my owner… mymaster… his rigid manhood had opened me in a way so intimate I could hardly comprehend it. Slowly but very steadily Christian drove his cock into my bottom, keeping my poor little hole distended around the massive girth of his hard shaft.
“Shh, Rebel,” he murmured. He moved his hands, putting them both on my hips, thumbs tucked under the elastic fabric of my garter and fingers curling around to grip my hipbones firmly and possessively. “That’s so nice and tight. Your ass feels so good. Just keep your bottom still and take it now.”
I moaned with pain and humiliation as he began to move in and out, each thrust bringing a little cry of discomfort from my throat as Christian forced his way deeper inside. I tried to move my hips, seeking some little respite from the intruder that filled me too full and stretched me too wide, but my keeper’s hands restrained me, holding my backside right where he wanted it.
“No, Leah,” he said softly, pressing his hardness even more firmly into the forbidden passage. I heard a thrilling huskiness in his voice. My heart skipped a beat at the arousal it betrayed, and the realization that my master’s need clearly became more intense the more dominantly he used me. I felt his cock harden even further, as if to teach me that any attempt to secure my own comfort would only result in my lesson becoming more rigorous, more exacting.
I felt his lap, covered in wiry, masculine fur, come up against my punished bottom and my right hand where I held my whipped cheek open for him to enjoy me in the most shameful way. I let out another long moan at the terrible feeling of fullness, of utter submission and sexual servitude. The girl in the story had given her keeper everything.
For a moment Christian held himself in that way, at full length. I felt his right hand move, then. He took hold of my wrist and brought my hand around and down under, between my thighs. I gave a cry of wanton need as he pressed my fingers against my sealed pussy.
“Play with yourself,” he commanded in a growl that made me clench there, under the closed labia, and suddenly transformed the discomfort his cock had brought into something else, something much needier. “If you can come this way, you may have an orgasm.”
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, and started to rub, hard and fast. I found the wanton wetness emerging from the tiny hole my master had left me at the bottom of my smooth, sealed pussy and I spread it along the seam the adhesive had made. My hips bucked hard, but Christian had returned his right hand to my hip, and together his strong hands resisted the wayward movement.
The muscle tension from that restraint, from my frustrated motion, seemed to make the arousal between my thighs more urgent. I cried out, my back arching, my bottom inadvertently pressing against my sponsor’s lap so that I had to repeat the cry, even louder, at the soreness in my punished bottom-cheeks and even more the sharp pain of my anus’ ordeal.
Christian started to fuck my bottom again, his rigid penis surging in and out, impaling me over and over. The discomfort as he used me for his pleasure, his cock much too big for my virgin hole, seemed to become something much more ambiguous with my fingers’ friction: the dullness of the sensation I could deliver to my needy clit began to build a kind of climax I had never experienced before—somehow distant but also enormous, like a tsunami coming toward a faraway beach. I didn’t know if I could get there, or the wave would reach me, but I gripped the edge of the fucking table harder and the submissive sobs I let out into its padded top grew more desperate with every thrust of Christian’s manhood.
I heard him give a growl, and I felt my face crimson as I remembered it as the same kind of growl he had made when he had deflowered my pussy and then, six days later, my mouth—the sound that my keeper made when he stood on the verge of climax. His cock seemed to stiffen even further, and the resulting discomfort somehow sent a surge of need through my body so great that the towering wave of my orgasm started to crash down on me. Just as I felt his rhythm change, his hips jerk once, twice, and then his cock pulse in my bottom hole, shooting his hot essence into me, my own body exploded with submissive pleasure. He had to hold me tightly to keep me from escaping his grasp as I writhed on his mastering phallus, my bottom clenching around the throbbing length of him, engulfed in that shameful passage.
“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.”
CHAPTER36
Leah
