Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“You’re going to fetch a very high price, girl,” his horrid voice said, in a tone that seemed almost begrudging. “Bad girls whose cunts get wet after a paddling are always in high demand.”
His fingers kept going in and out. My mouth opened as my back arched, and I threw my head back out of sheer reflex. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of me speaking, but I couldn’t help it: his words conveyed such a terrible vision of a mysterious fate—my new life of abject degradation.
“I…” I said, but the fingers inside me took all my words and turned them into nonsense. “Sir… but… please… wh—what do you… oh, no… please…”
Something came to rest on the small of my back, something heavy and hard. The paddle, I realized. Agent Delvik had put the paddle on my back, as if that represented its natural resting place. That idea, to my horror, sent another thrill of the feeling—the feeling he had somehow evoked in my body through means I simply couldn’t understand—to my pussy. I felt it again: a clench, so much more unwelcome because I could sense how my vagina had spasmed around his fingers, and because that brought a chuckle from the agent.
“That’s it, my dear,” he murmured. “You’re learning.”
“Learning what?” I sobbed. “Sir… I… please…”
“Learning how good it can feel when you submit to your master.” His words seemed slightly distracted, as if he had focused the majority of his attention between my legs… as if he were enjoying himself, watching his fingers inside me.
It took a long moment for the meaning of the agent’s answer to sink in. How good it can feel. It didn’t make any sense, because… because it didn’t feel good… did it?
Then I felt his other hand—his right hand, I supposed, from which he had dropped the paddle—take firm hold of my bottom, squeezing the right cheek so that I cried out in pain. But as if he intended to teach me how to understand his previous words, his left hand kept working in and out of my pussy so that the moment he eased his grip on my punished backside a wave of irresistible pleasure swept through me.
I had started to moan and whimper with each exhaling breath and to move my hips in a mortifying rhythm that matched that of the fingers inside me. I suddenly sensed something else, something that loomed somehow ahead of me in the hot interior space of my mind, as if the hand in my pussy compelled me to ride it like a pony, at a headlong gallop, towards some goal that would bring release and fulfillment.
“Oh, no… oh, no… oh, no…” I repeated over and over, each ‘O’ a sob of need.
Oh, no: it does feel good. How can it feel good? How can it feel this good?
“You’re going to come for me, you little blue-haired whore,” the agent said. His tone had become harsh again: these degrading words obviously represented part of some dark pleasure he got from humiliating me. “Look at that red bottom… look at that little pink quim. Kamnian asses really are lovely when they’re paddled, and your cunts turn such a sweet shade of red inside. I can’t help envying the lord who gets to fuck you first.”
Whatever it was… whatever this sort of coming represented, physiologically… I didn’t need any further information from the horrid company agent to tell me that coming referred to the goal I had glimpsed inside me, the finish line towards which his invading hand made me ride at breakneck pace. With the addition of the equally mysterious but even darker-sounding word, fuck, to the string of obvious obscenities emerging from his mouth, I reached that ending.
Coming seemed suddenly more like a cliff than a finish line, a ledge over a canyon, and the fingers driving me relentlessly forward flung me off, into space, my body writhing with forced delight that humiliated me even as it filled my limbs with ecstasy. I feared suddenly that the pleasure might rip me apart—that in fact all this “training” had only been a cruel game, at the conclusion of which I would simply satisfy the man’s brutality by dying here, over the table, with his controlling hand in my most private place.
Agent Delvik kept moving his fingers up and down, in and out, while the aftershocks of what I would soon learn to call a climax made my body jerk under his hands.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s it. Let’s get that all out of your system before I really punish you.”
I shook my head, trying to understand. The dread only began to creep in as the pleasure receded and awareness returned. I remembered all the things he had threatened. I twisted my head around, trying to get a look at his face. I felt the paddle slide down onto the table, and I shuddered at the feeling, at the memory of how he had used it on my bottom and my thighs.