Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 61287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
My lips parted, my jaw slackening. A thrill of happiness burst in my chest, but then I saw my training master’s face change, his expression transforming into the disapproving one I had thought I had seen at first. My joy grew very confused, and I felt my face crease back into my repentant, sorrowful pout.
Master Hendryk pressed his fingertips—his two middle fingers, I saw on the screen as I did shift my suddenly tear-filled eyes there—harder against the wrinkly little dimple. I bit my lip and let out a soft, whining noise at the sight of it: my well-fucked vagina, glistening with need but not to be satisfied anymore, for my master had chosen a narrower, darker place for his pleasure… the fingers, on that tiny flower, glistening with my own wanton juices, pressing until I cried out… those fingers entering, invading, inside me.
All Institute concubines had their anuses trained daily. Those who had already had anal sex before coming to the mansion got that, too, from their training masters. Anal virgins like me usually wore belts, fastened by our training masters, that held butt plugs inside us to get us ready for sale to a master or mistress who, like most dominants, would seek a great deal of pleasure in our bottoms.
So to accept Master Hendryk’s fingers there shouldn’t have represented anything new. I should have had the ability to relax and to let him prepare me and enjoy me as he saw fit. Something about having to watch him probe and stretch me with his fingers, though, brought a tension that I couldn’t seem to push away. I bit my lip and moaned with the discomfort of the invasion as I felt him lubricate me with my own need.
I tried desperately to remember the proud expression on Master G’s face, telling myself that he had changed it only because of my failure to look at the screen as Master Hendryk had instructed. I refocused my eyes on the upper corner of the screen, where the image showed only black. I took a deep breath through my nose and tried to hold it, but a flash of pain from the pushing, pulling, stretching fingers made me let it out with a gasping sob.
The fingers left me, and I felt my master stand up straighter. My gaze shifted involuntarily back to the middle of the screen, to where the huge, hard cock menaced the cringing little hole, slick with the wetness my owner had applied to ease his shameful way.
I whimpered as he put the crimson head of his erection against the untried flower, the forbidden little ring of my most private place. He had his rigid manhood in his right hand while with his left on my cane-striped left cheek he continued to pull my bottom open so he could see his possession of me there. He pressed his hips forward, a grunt of pleasure escaping his chest as he began to claim me fully.
I cried out at the feeling of being opened that unnatural way, impaled on my master’s cock. My whole body shuddered atop the horse. I felt his hand move to the back of my neck, felt him grip me there. I heard a whimpering cry come from my throat, as if from another girl.
“There we go,” Master Hendryk murmured, his very voice seeming dark to me, colored by his obscene pleasure. “That’s just what an ass should feel like.”
CHAPTER 7
Hendryk
I thought I could feel every part of Renee’s lithe, gorgeous body—her soft, pale skin… the taut muscles beneath it—respond to my degrading words.
Those assessors don’t kid around, I thought, remembering the dossier again, and they don’t get it wrong.
They had said the girl would respond to humiliation from her new owner in a way her Institute trainers couldn’t get out of her.
Renee has a fascinating quirk in her submissive orientation, the executive summary had read, in that the setting of the mansion, which has brought her need to submit into focus for her, cannot despite all our resources provide the level of domination she will require to reach full self-actualization. The mansion provides too much stability. In such cases, which occur in ca. 7% of Institute recruits—a figure that has remained stable, year to year, over the past twenty years, and thus one in which we have high confidence—rather than attempting to implement some alternative, less institutionalized training our standard practice is to offer the girls for sale with the condition that bidders qualify at seven or above on the Lourcy dominance scale, and consent to an additional monitoring protocol.
My Lourcy score, which Selecta measured these days on a continuous basis thanks to my having acquired Candy, stood at 8.2 out of 10. Dominants who fell lower on the scale, formulated fifteen years ago by an Institute researcher and maintained by Selecta’s data-mining arm, tended to say it was bullshit, but the Institute’s assessors swore by it.