Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Such a lovely sight,” he murmured, his fingers tracing around where the dildo disappeared into my pussy. “So full. So wet.” He gripped the base of the dildo and began moving it slowly, just tiny movements that made me gasp and arch. “Did you think about this all day? Being stuffed like the greedy little slut you are?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice breaking as he twisted the dildo slightly.
His other hand found the plug in my bottom, pressing against it, making me cry out at the doubled sensation. He played with both toys, moving them in tandem, then alternating, creating rhythms that had me sobbing within minutes, my hips bucking with need, my bottom squirming against the mattress. But he never let me come, always pulling back just when I approached the edge.
“Please,” I begged, my thighs trembling from holding the position.
“Please what?” He pushed both toys deep, holding them there.
“Please, sir, I need—”
“You need to be punished first.” He withdrew the dildo in one smooth motion, leaving me gasping at the sudden emptiness. My vagina clenched on nothing, desperate for something to fill it again. The contrast of that void with the enforced presence of the plug in my bottom made my cheeks burn with mortification.
Scott’s fingers explored my empty pussy first, two then three sliding easily into my drenched channel. “So ready now,” he observed clinically. “The dildo stretched you nicely.” His thumb found my clit, circling it once before withdrawing. He turned his attention to my bottom, moving the base of the plug to make me whimper, testing how well the shameful toy had prepared me for his huge, rigid tool.
“Look at these greedy holes,” he murmured, alternating between them, sometimes filling my pussy, sometimes leaving the aching sheath completely empty. The unpredictability of it drove me wild, my hips rolling desperately, seeking more contact, more pressure, anything to relieve the terrible ache that had been building all day.
“Stay still,” he commanded, and I forced my trembling body to obey even as he continued his maddening exploration. His fingers curled inside my pussy, finding the little place that made me cry out, while his other hand moved the plug inward and outward, preparing me for what was to come.
Finally, after what felt like hours but must have been only a few minutes, he stepped away. I heard him open the bag he’d brought, and when he returned, he held something that made my blood run cold.
The whip was smaller than I’d expected, maybe eight inches long with multiple thin leather tails. The handle was wrapped in black leather, elegant and terrifying. He held it up, letting me see it properly.
“This is designed specifically for pussy-whipping,” he explained, his tone conversational despite the subject matter. “The tails are soft enough not to cause damage, but firm enough to create intense sensation. Each strike will feel like fire across that naughty cunt of yours.”
My whole body shook as he brought the whip close to my face. “Kiss it,” he commanded. “Show proper respect for the instrument of your correction.”
I lifted my head slightly, my lips trembling as they made contact with the leather tails. They smelled of oil and something else, something that might have been the lingering scent of other women who’d been punished with this very tool. The thought made me clench involuntarily as I remembered Melissa’s degrading ride atop my face
“Good girl,” Scott said, pulling the whip away. “Now, you’re going to count each lash and thank me for it. If you lose count, we start over. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The first strike came without warning, the leather tails landing directly across my spread pussy lips. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, nothing like the thudding impact of a spanking. This was sharp, stinging, setting every nerve ending on fire. I writhed over his bed, my back arching, then my hips thrusting uncontrollably, as if offering my pussy for another lash—the very furthest thing from my mind.
“One!” I screamed. “Thank you, sir!”
The second strike followed immediately, slightly lower, catching the entrance to my vagina. “Two! Thank you, sir!”
By the fifth strike, I was screaming and sobbing, my legs shaking so hard I could barely hold position. The whip found my clit on the seventh strike, and I nearly came from the intensity of it, pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn’t separate them.
“Ten! Thank you, sir!” I wailed as the final strike landed, my entire pussy feeling like it was on fire.
“Turn over,” Scott commanded immediately. “On your knees, chest down.”
I scrambled to obey, my whipped pussy throbbing as I turned over. The position he wanted was clear—face pressed into the mattress, bottom raised high, back arched to present myself completely. My hands clutched at the sheets as Scott moved behind me, his fingers gripping my hips to adjust my angle.