Chapter 19
Scott
I watched, my eyes narrowing a little, as Grace absorbed the degradation of being called a fuck toy for the first time.
Her face transformed through a spectrum of emotions—shock, humiliation, and then something deeper that made my cock stir.
Her pupils dilated, her lips parted slightly, and I could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
The burgundy dress seemed to highlight the flush spreading down from her cheeks to her chest.
“I…” she started, then stopped, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. The gesture was unconscious, nervous, and utterly captivating.
“You’re struggling with that term, I can see,” I observed, moving closer to her.
“But your body is telling me everything I need to know. Just from looking at you, I know that the need between your legs just spiked significantly.” I pulled out my phone, showing her the real-time data from her belt’s sensors.
“See? The moment I called you my fuck toy, the temperature of your sweet little cunt increased, and the moisture down there is out of control.”
She looked at the screen, her face burning even brighter. “That’s… that’s not fair. You can see everything.”
“Of course I can see everything,” I said, pocketing the phone.
“That’s the point, Grace. That’s the way I want it.
You have no secrets from me. Not your body’s responses, not your deepest shames, not your most desperate needs.
” I traced a finger along her jawline, feeling her tremble.
“And you love it, deep down where even you can’t really believe it.
You love being exposed, being known, being owned. ”
“I don’t—” she began, but I gripped the back of her neck gently, though with enough tension to let her feel my strength, and put my thumb firmly over her lips.
“Don’t lie to me. Or to yourself.” I let my hand drift down a little to rest against her throat, not squeezing, just reminding her of my control.
“You’ve spent two days locked in that belt, watching Leah submit to increasingly degrading acts, and your arousal hasn’t decreased.
If anything, the frustration has made you more responsive.
More honest about what you really want.”
I guided her further into the apartment, my hand on the small of her back.
She moved like she was in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare she didn’t want to wake from.
The dining table was already set—candles, wine, the works.
I’d ordered from her favorite restaurant, information gleaned from her corporate profile.
“Sit,” I commanded, pulling out a chair. She lowered herself carefully, and I didn’t miss the way she winced slightly as the belt pressed against her.
I poured wine for both of us, watching her over the rim of my glass as I took a sip. “Tell me about your work on the trailers.”
She seemed grateful for the shift to professional topics, though her voice remained unsteady. “I’ve identified a bunch of key moments from the first two episodes. The clips focus on… I guess you could call it the corruption arc—Leah’s transformation from innocent bride to eager submissive.”
“And the wedding night footage?”
Her fingers tightened on her wineglass. “I… I haven’t finished those yet. I found it…” Her eyes dropped to her plate and she swallowed visibly before she raised her gaze again to meet mine, her cheeks flushing. “It was really difficult to concentrate after you called.”
“Because you knew you’d be seeing me,” I said. It wasn’t a question. “Because you knew you were going to get fucked like Leah tonight.”
Grace
To my horror, I clenched hard at Scott’s matter-of-fact assessment of my shameful thoughts and feelings—the burning need I couldn’t deny, much as I would have liked to. A little gulping, whimpering sob escaped my chest.
“No, I…” I started, lowering my eyes to look at my hands on the table. I couldn’t figure out how to go on. I looked back up at Scott, searching for something in his eyes—mercy, understanding, maybe even the same desperate need I felt. But his expression remained controlled, patient.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting to something lighter. “Something I can’t find in your file. What do you do when you’re not analyzing explicit videos for me? What interests you outside of work?”
The change in subject caught me off guard, and I found myself grateful for the reprieve.
“I… I’ve always wanted to travel,” I admitted, taking a sip of wine to steady myself.
“I used to read travel magazines when I was younger, before the New Modesty program. I dreamed about Europe, mostly… seeing Paris, Rome, Florence…” I trailed off with a laugh.
“But I’m sure I’ll never actually get to go. ”
Scott’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “Why not?”
“Well, it’s not exactly something a girl like me does, is it? Jacob never would have considered it, and now…” I gestured vaguely at myself, at my situation.
“I’ve been to all those places,” Scott said, leaning back in his chair.
“Multiple times, actually. Rome is extraordinary—the history, the art, the food. And Florence…” He smiled, a real smile that transformed his face.
“The Uffizi Gallery alone is worth the trip. I’d love to show you the Botticellis there.
The Birth of Venus in person is nothing like seeing it in books. ”
My heart skipped at his casual assumption that he might take me there someday. “You would?”
“Of course. A mind like yours would appreciate the layers of meaning in Renaissance art. The way beauty and sensuality were celebrated even within religious contexts.” His eyes held mine.
“And then there’s the food. In Rome, there’s a little osteria in Trastevere, just across the Tiber from the main tourist areas.
They make the simplest, most delicious spaghetti cacio e pepe. I think you’d love it.”
I found myself leaning forward, caught up in his descriptions. For a moment, I could almost forget the belt between my legs, the constant ache of need. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It is. Perhaps after this project wraps up, we could arrange something. Selecta has offices in Rome—it wouldn’t be difficult to justify a business trip.”
The casual way he suggested it, as if taking me to Italy was perfectly normal, made my chest tight with an emotion I didn’t want to name.
We continued eating, and he told me more about his travels—the Christmas markets in Vienna, the beaches of the Amalfi Coast, the museums of Madrid.
I found myself relaxing despite everything, drawn into his stories.
When he brought out dessert—panna cotta with raspberry coulis—his expression changed again. I swallowed hard as I saw his dominance come into his eyes and knew myself to be its object.
“I want to discuss a new initiative with you,” he said, setting a perfect white dome in front of me. “Are you familiar with Melissa Mitropoulos?”
“The name sounds familiar,” I said. “She’s in Communications, maybe?”
I tried to keep my spoon steady as I took a small bite of the panna cotta, the creamy sweetness melting on my tongue.
“She was. She runs our alternative content division now,” Scott explained, watching me carefully.
“Melissa has been developing something called Her Secret Garden—a different approach to the same footage we use for standard NMB programming. It’s meant to help submissive women understand and articulate their needs more clearly. ”
My breath caught. “A different approach?”
“The same scenes, but reframed through the woman’s perspective.
Emphasizing her pleasure in submission rather than just her training.
” He paused, letting that sink in. “I’ve decided to assign you to work directly with Melissa on refining the concept.
Your unique perspective—having lived through New Modesty yourself but also possessing analytical skills—makes you ideal for the project. ”
The implications made my head spin. Working on content that celebrated female submission rather than just documenting it? “When would I start?”
“Tomorrow. But first, I want to show you what Melissa’s team has done with the footage you’ve been studying.” He stood, extending his hand. “Come. We’ll be more comfortable in the viewing room.”
I followed him on unsteady legs to a spacious area dominated by a massive screen and a leather sofa. I was about to sit, when I heard Scott’s voice behind me, his tone hard and authoritative.
“Take off your dress, Grace.”
I turned to look at him, my eyes widening.
The command hung in the air between us. My fingers moved to the tie of the wrap dress before I could second-guess myself, pulling it loose.
The silk fell away, pooling around me on the carpet.
I stood there in just the belt and my black stockings, my skin prickling with goosebumps despite the apartment’s warmth.
Scott settled onto the leather sofa, his eyes dark with intention as he patted his thigh. “Stand here, inside my knees.”
I moved forward on trembling legs, hyperaware of my near-nakedness, of the way his gaze traveled over my body with possessive satisfaction. When I stood directly in front of him, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, he pulled out his phone.
“Time to remove this,” he murmured, and I heard the soft beep as the belt’s lock disengaged.
His hands were surprisingly gentle as he unfastened the clasps, drawing the leather away from my flesh.
The cool air against my soaked, swollen pussy made me gasp, my knees nearly buckling from the sensation after hours of confinement.
“Look at you,” Scott breathed, his fingers tracing along my inner thighs where my arousal had leaked past the belt’s edges, leaving my skin sticky and glistening. “Absolutely drenched. Turn around, and bend forward a little.”
I obeyed, my face burning as I presented my bottom to him. His hands spread my cheeks, examining me with that clinical thoroughness that somehow made everything more mortifying.
“Your pretty little asshole is clenching already,” he observed, running a finger over the sensitive pucker. “Your body knows what’s coming, doesn’t it? But not yet. Sit on my lap, facing the screen.”
He’d already freed his cock from his jeans, and I whimpered at the sight of it—thick, hard, ready.
As I lowered myself onto him, facing away, his hands guided my hips until my pussy was fully impaled, stretched around him in a way that made my eyes water with relief and overwhelming sensation after so many days of denial.
“Don’t move yet,” he commanded, reaching for the remote. “I want you to watch this first.”
The screen came to life, showing the familiar opening of Leah’s First Cock, but something was different immediately. The opening title said Sweet Submission, and then Leah’s voice filled the room—not dialogue from the scene, but a voiceover, intimate and confessional.
“I’d been waiting for this moment for weeks,” Leah’s voice said as we watched her younger self sit nervously on the sofa.
“Every night, I touched myself thinking about Brian, about what he might make me do. The New Modesty program had taught me to fear my wedding night, but secretly, shamefully, I craved it.”
My pussy clenched involuntarily around Scott’s cock as I processed what I was hearing. This was the same footage, but Leah was narrating her true feelings, her actual arousal.
On screen, Brian entered and commanded Leah to her knees.
“The first time I saw Brian’s big penis,” the voiceover continued, “I nearly came just from looking at it. I knew I was supposed to be frightened, innocent—and I was… or part of me was—but all I could think about was how it would feel in my mouth, how it would taste… and how good it would feel for him.”
I watched the screen, Scott’s voice murmuring in my ear as Leah’s narration continued over the familiar footage.
“When he spanked me for using my teeth,” Leah’s voiceover confessed, her voice breathy and intimate, “I wanted to thank him. The sting across my bottom made everything clearer, sharper. Each strike reminded me that I belonged to him, that my body was his to discipline and use. I got so wet from it that I was terrified he’d notice. ”
The admission sent a jolt through me, and without thinking, I began to move, lifting myself slightly before sinking back down on Scott’s thick length. The relief of finally having friction, of being filled after days of torment, overwhelmed any sense of restraint I might have had.
“That’s it,” Scott growled, his hands gripping my hips but not stopping my movement. “Take what you need while you listen to her truth.”
On screen, Brian was teaching Leah to deep-throat, and her voiceover continued: “I loved the feeling of choking on him, of my throat stretching to accommodate his size. It made me feel useful, valuable. When he praised me for taking him deeper, I would have done anything to hear those words again. Being his good girl became my only goal.”
My movements grew more desperate, rising and falling on Scott’s cock as Leah described the intense pleasure she found in submission.
When the scene shifted to Brian coming on her breasts, Leah’s voice turned almost reverent: “Wearing his seed felt like a blessing, a mark of ownership I never wanted to wash off. I rubbed it into my skin wishing it would leave a permanent stain, something that would show everyone I belonged to him.”
“Listen to her,” Scott commanded, suddenly gripping my hips tight and holding me still while he thrust up into me hard. “She understands what you’re only beginning to learn.”
“Oh, God,” I gasped as he pounded up into me, each thrust hitting something deep that made my whole body buck hard against my master’s commanding hold.
“My slutty little fuck toy,” he growled, the degrading words making me clench around him. “You’re coming already, aren’t you? Just from hearing another woman admit she loves being used?”