huge, whatever it is—big and smooth and I think it’s made of wood. I’m soaking wet and growing wetter by the moment, but it’s too big for me, I’m sure of it.
I start to cry a little, trying to swallow the tears down, squeezing my eyes shut tight. I hate to fail.
He shoves harder, and it feels like my insides are burning, the tissues stretching impossibly. And it’s a huge turn-on, pleasure and pain and even the tears. Maybe more so because of the tears. Yes—I know it’s true. I love the tears as much as the Master does.
“Come on. You can take it. Don’t make him pull out the lube or you’ll pay for it later, Girl.”
I open my eyes to find the Master sitting in a chair across from me, his legs crossed, his hands steepled, his dark blue eyes glittering, a cruel smile on his exquisite mouth. And it is as if my body, my mind, explode in pleasure. I’m so overcome I nearly speak to beg him to stay.
I inhale, try to let my body go loose as I exhale, then do it again. And Gilby works the damn object—whatever it is—into my dripping cunt. With his other hand he grips my hip and begins to rock me onto it, back and forth, slowly at first, then as my body becomes accustomed to the thing, harder, faster, until he really is fucking me with this enormous makeshift dildo as the Master watches, and this is probably the hottest moment of my life. Until the Master gets up and approaches me, and my pussy weeps with desire.
He grabs my jaw in his strong hand, hard enough to hurt, forces my mouth open and presses three fingers inside.
“Suck, Girl,” he demands.
I do it greedily, savoring his fingers, licking the tips, sucking hard, sliding my mouth up and down until my jaw aches with the effort. Until I’m crying again, the tears washing over my cheeks, over his hand. He is fucking my mouth as Gilby fucks my aching, hungry cunt with the rigid object, and I no longer even care what it is.
Soon I need to come so badly, so badly, but I don’t have permission. More tears.
“Good slut,” Gilby says, the roughness of desire low in his throat. “You fucking hold it back. You don’t get to come while I’m in your little cunt. Maybe when I’m in your ass. If you please me enough. You’d better hope you can take it. That you can fuck me with your tight ass the way you’re fucking this billy club with your tight cunt.”
My head comes up, the Master’s fingers slipping from my mouth, and I know right away what I’ve done. He shoves my face back down onto the table, slamming my cheek into the leather surface. He slaps my cheek hard, one burning strike before he reaches under me and takes one nipple in his fingers and twists it until I have to bite back a scream. Yet at the same time my sore, battered pussy opens more for the club, and I want it. I am grateful for it.
“Didn’t know it was a billy club?” Gilby asks with a small chuckle. “But you like it, little slut. You fucking love it. Now fuck it real good for Gilby. Show your Master how much you like it.”
His hands on me go still, and I begin to move my hips, working my pussy down onto the wooden shaft, sliding up, then down again. I try to take as much as I can into me, biting back my climax as the Master leans over me, his hold on my poor nipple tight and hurting while his other hand crushes my cheek to the table, controlling me utterly. And I breathe him in, and oh God, I almost come then, but I don’t. I am reveling in knowing I’m doing what I’m told. That I am a good Girl.
There is something of the performer in me as I imagine the expression on his face, and Gilby’s. As I think of how I must look, my body bucking and plunging onto the wooden club. The way the lips of my pussy must be plump and pink around the thick shaft, everything slick with my juices. I’m a little too in love with the idea, maybe, but I hear the Master’s quiet grunt of approval as he presses my face harder into the leather-covered table. Pleasure ripples through
I start to cry a little, trying to swallow the tears down, squeezing my eyes shut tight. I hate to fail.
He shoves harder, and it feels like my insides are burning, the tissues stretching impossibly. And it’s a huge turn-on, pleasure and pain and even the tears. Maybe more so because of the tears. Yes—I know it’s true. I love the tears as much as the Master does.
“Come on. You can take it. Don’t make him pull out the lube or you’ll pay for it later, Girl.”
I open my eyes to find the Master sitting in a chair across from me, his legs crossed, his hands steepled, his dark blue eyes glittering, a cruel smile on his exquisite mouth. And it is as if my body, my mind, explode in pleasure. I’m so overcome I nearly speak to beg him to stay.
I inhale, try to let my body go loose as I exhale, then do it again. And Gilby works the damn object—whatever it is—into my dripping cunt. With his other hand he grips my hip and begins to rock me onto it, back and forth, slowly at first, then as my body becomes accustomed to the thing, harder, faster, until he really is fucking me with this enormous makeshift dildo as the Master watches, and this is probably the hottest moment of my life. Until the Master gets up and approaches me, and my pussy weeps with desire.
He grabs my jaw in his strong hand, hard enough to hurt, forces my mouth open and presses three fingers inside.
“Suck, Girl,” he demands.
I do it greedily, savoring his fingers, licking the tips, sucking hard, sliding my mouth up and down until my jaw aches with the effort. Until I’m crying again, the tears washing over my cheeks, over his hand. He is fucking my mouth as Gilby fucks my aching, hungry cunt with the rigid object, and I no longer even care what it is.
Soon I need to come so badly, so badly, but I don’t have permission. More tears.
“Good slut,” Gilby says, the roughness of desire low in his throat. “You fucking hold it back. You don’t get to come while I’m in your little cunt. Maybe when I’m in your ass. If you please me enough. You’d better hope you can take it. That you can fuck me with your tight ass the way you’re fucking this billy club with your tight cunt.”
My head comes up, the Master’s fingers slipping from my mouth, and I know right away what I’ve done. He shoves my face back down onto the table, slamming my cheek into the leather surface. He slaps my cheek hard, one burning strike before he reaches under me and takes one nipple in his fingers and twists it until I have to bite back a scream. Yet at the same time my sore, battered pussy opens more for the club, and I want it. I am grateful for it.
“Didn’t know it was a billy club?” Gilby asks with a small chuckle. “But you like it, little slut. You fucking love it. Now fuck it real good for Gilby. Show your Master how much you like it.”
His hands on me go still, and I begin to move my hips, working my pussy down onto the wooden shaft, sliding up, then down again. I try to take as much as I can into me, biting back my climax as the Master leans over me, his hold on my poor nipple tight and hurting while his other hand crushes my cheek to the table, controlling me utterly. And I breathe him in, and oh God, I almost come then, but I don’t. I am reveling in knowing I’m doing what I’m told. That I am a good Girl.
There is something of the performer in me as I imagine the expression on his face, and Gilby’s. As I think of how I must look, my body bucking and plunging onto the wooden club. The way the lips of my pussy must be plump and pink around the thick shaft, everything slick with my juices. I’m a little too in love with the idea, maybe, but I hear the Master’s quiet grunt of approval as he presses my face harder into the leather-covered table. Pleasure ripples through
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