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)
“Master,” I whispered, “your penis is very beautiful. May… may I have it in my mouth, please?”
I had scarcely noticed his right hand on the back of my head for long moments. I realized, as I felt him use that hold on my skull to gently lower my face, that he could have forced the cock between my lips if he had chosen and enjoyed me that way. A warmth filled my chest at the thought, a feeling that like my urge to give the baron pleasure a moment before, came as both welcome and unwelcome.
He wants my submission. He doesn’t want to hurt me.
Tentatively I opened my mouth.
Except when he does.
CHAPTER 23
Chalondra
“Wider, Wetquim,” said Mistress Franla, her voice suddenly imperious. “Your master’s cock is very big, and you must learn to receive it properly.”
As I obeyed, stretching my mouth further open until it felt as if my jaw would come unhinged, I glanced up into my master’s face, feeling daring, and then—when I saw him gazing steadily back—alarmed, and worse, ashamed. The heat rushed into my cheeks. Embarrassment filled me at the knowledge that he had his eyes on me, watching me about to serve him in this abased, degrading fashion. It came alongside the strange, unwelcome feeling that by forgetting my station as a mere bed girl and looking my noble owner in the eye, I had shamed myself.
His lordship’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and my heart jumped with fear at the thought that he would spank me again. I squeezed my bottom cheeks, spread them further, whimpering at the sensation, as if I could convey to my master that he had punished me enough, that my momentary lapse only represented a tiny mistake. I looked back down at his penis, sure that my face must have turned a deep scarlet.
“No,” he said, his voice to my surprise quite gentle. “Look up, my dear. I want to see your eyes just before you start to suck my cock for the first time.”
“Put your tongue out a little, Wetquim,” my mistress commanded from behind me. She put her fingers on my pussy again, as lightly as if they were made of feathers, as if to remind me that my obedience would be rewarded. “You must learn to cover your lower teeth with it when you do kneeling service.”
Kneeling service. What Mistress Franla called the obscene thing I must do, the dark pleasure I must provide. I extended the tip of my tongue, and I looked up again into my master’s face.
“There,” he said, and he smiled. I tried to persuade myself—the spirited part of me tried, at least—that I didn’t like that smile: that I hated it even. But my mistress’ fingers began to exert more friction on the nub at the top of my virgin pussy. I couldn’t hold anything like hatred in my heart, because my master had a compassionate smile on his lips as he watched me forced to feel such pleasure that I began to ride Mistress Franla’s hand lewdly. I held my warm, punished bottom cheeks in my hands, and I moved my hips, and my mistress didn’t withdraw her fingers as she had before, but rather rubbed more firmly.
I cried out. I felt my master start to exert his own pressure on the back of my head, so as to force my face down, to lower my open mouth onto the huge, hard shaft of his penis. A moment went by, when I lost sight of his face and turned my eyes downward again to see him holding his cock, ready to place it between my lips and on my tongue, before I realized that I wasn’t resisting him at all.
Then I felt him do it, and I tasted the slightly salty flavor of his skin, and something a little bitter that I thought must be the fluid that came from the cock in answer to my own wetness. My master’s hips moved, too, as if in imitation of my shameless ride atop Mistress Franla’s hand. He moved his left hand to the back of my head and held my mouth still. He thrust his hardness upward into the moist cavity between my lips once, shallowly… twice, deeper…
I shuddered as I felt that thick shaft, throbbing with his lordship’s heartbeat, invade me. My brow furrowed deeply, and my face grew even hotter at the way he held my head in place, my mouth clearly a mere receptacle for the use of his rigid manhood. I clutched my backside, whimpering around the cock that filled me too full, its head pressing against the back of my throat. My mistress’ fingers moved more rapidly, as if to reward me for the shame and discomfort of this kneeling service.
“That’s it,” my master growled, thrusting more quickly, his strong lap covered except for his cock and the little purse below it, in silken black fabric. “Just be a good girl now for your face fucking and your master is going to let you taste his seed.”