Chapter 20
Grace
Yes, I was coming. My first orgasm crashed through me as Leah’s voice described the joy she felt being bent over Brian’s knee, how each spank made her pussy throb with need.
Scott never stopped his punishing rhythm, fucking up into me through my climax and into the next one that followed immediately after.
“Please,” I sobbed, without any specific plea except for more.
On screen, Brian was spreading Leah’s cheeks, preparing to claim her virgin bottom on their wedding night, and her voiceover had become desperate: “This is what I’d dreamed about in secret, what I’d never admitted even to myself.
I wanted him to take me there, to use me in that most degrading way.
When he pushed inside, I felt the pain and the fullness and the complete degradation of it all, I knew I was truly his. ”
Without warning, Scott’s hands gripped my waist and lifted me off his cock.
The sudden emptiness made me cry out, my legs barely supporting me as he stood and turned me to face the sofa.
His hand pressed firmly between my shoulder blades, bending me forward until my elbows rested on the leather cushions, my bottom raised high behind me.
“Spread your cheeks,” he commanded, his voice rough with arousal. “Show me where you need it.”
My hands moved behind me, trembling as I reached back to pull the round halves of my bottom apart, exposing my most private place to his gaze. The position was exactly like Ruth’s when Abe had claimed her there, and the memory of that scene mixed with Leah’s continuing voiceover made me dizzy.
“I—” My voice caught as Scott’s finger circled my exposed hole.
“I saw you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “At your desk yesterday. Squirming. Pressing against that pillow you keep on your chair.”
My face burned hotter than my exposed skin. “Sir, I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Grace.” His finger pressed slightly, making me gasp. “I watched you for ten full minutes. Trying to get friction through the belt while editing those trailers. Tell me what that means.”
“It means…” I swallowed hard, Leah’s confessions from the video giving me courage. “It means I need to be punished, sir.”
“And how should I punish such a desperate little slut?” His finger withdrew, replaced by the blunt pressure of his cock against my entrance.
“Please,” I sobbed, still holding myself open. “Like Ruth was punished. I need you to… to take me there.”
I heard him spit, felt the wetness land directly on my exposed hole, and then he was pressing forward with an intensity that made my whole body tense.
Unlike Jacob’s hesitant pressure, Scott pushed with complete confidence, breaching me in one firm thrust that made me scream into the leather cushions.
“Such a tight little asshole,” he growled, gripping my hips as he began to move. “But you’re going to take every inch, aren’t you? Because this is what happens to naughty girls who can’t control themselves.”
The burn was overwhelming, the stretch almost unbearable, but beneath it all was that dark pleasure I’d discovered watching Ruth’s punishment.
Each thrust felt like both correction and reward, pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn’t separate them.
On screen, behind us, Leah sobbed through her own anal claiming while her voiceover spoke of surrender.
“Tell me what you are,” Scott ordered, his pace brutal now.
“Your fuck toy,” I gasped. “Oh, God… sir, please…”
I couldn’t form coherent words anymore, only desperate sounds of need as Scott used me exactly how I’d secretly craved.
Every thrust drove deeper into my punished bottom, claiming me more completely than Jacob ever had, than I’d ever imagined possible.
My fingers dug into my own flesh, holding myself open for him like the obedient fuck toy I’d become.
“That’s what you are,” Scott agreed, one hand leaving my hip to tangle in my hair, pulling my head back. “My personal little slut who gets wet from watching other women be degraded. Who needs her ass fucked to remember her place.”
On the screen, Brian had finished inside Leah’s bottom, and her voiceover spoke of gratitude, of completion, of finding her true purpose. I tried to match her words with my own thoughts, to understand why this felt so right despite everything I’d been taught to believe about myself.
“I’m going to come in your ass,” Scott announced, his grip on my hair tightening. “And you’re going to thank me for it. You’re going to beg me to use you this way again.”
“Yes!” I screamed, my body convulsing as another orgasm tore through me. “Please, sir, please fill me. I need it. I need you to—”
He buried himself deep with a growl that vibrated through my entire body.
I felt his release flooding me, marking me internally in a way that felt more intimate than anything I’d ever experienced.
My arms gave out and I collapsed forward, only Scott’s hands on my hips keeping me from sliding completely off the sofa.
We stayed frozen like that for a long moment, him still buried in my thoroughly used bottom, both of us panting. On screen, the video had ended, replaced by a title card for the next episode. The silence felt heavy, charged with everything that had just happened between us.
When he finally withdrew, I whimpered at the loss, at the strange emptiness. I felt his seed beginning to leak from me, and the humiliation of it made fresh heat bloom between my legs. I started to stand, but his hand on my back kept me bent over.
“Stay there,” he commanded softly. “I want to look at what I’ve done to you.”
I remained in position, my face burning as I felt him examining me. His fingers traced over my stretched, leaking hole, and I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped when he pushed two fingers inside, feeling his own release.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and something in his tone made my chest tight. Not just possessive or satisfied, but genuinely appreciative. “You took that so well, Grace. Better than I expected for your first real time having your ass truly used.”
The praise made me clench around his fingers, drawing a dark chuckle from him. He withdrew his hand and helped me stand, turning me to face him. His expression had softened slightly, though his eyes still held that intensity that made my knees weak.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said, gesturing to a door off the main room. “Clean yourself up, then come back. We need to discuss your work with Melissa.”
I walked unsteadily to the bathroom, hyperaware of how I must look—my hair tangled from his grip, my bottom sore and leaking, my whole body flushed with exertion and arousal. The mirror confirmed my suspicions. I looked thoroughly debauched, like exactly what he’d called me—a well-used fuck toy.
I cleaned myself as best I could with trembling hands, using the soft washcloths he’d left out.
Every touch to my sensitive flesh made me shiver, my body still thrumming with residual pleasure.
When I finished washing, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to regain some composure.
But when I looked at myself again, I could still see the truth written all over me—in my swollen lips, my dilated pupils, the way I couldn’t quite stand straight.
When I returned to the living room, Scott had just emerged from another bathroom. He sat casually on the sofa, looking through something on his tablet. My dress lay folded on the arm of the sofa, and I reached for it uncertainly.
“Leave it,” he said without looking up. “I like you this way—just the stockings. Besides, we’re not done for the evening.”
I stood there awkwardly, naked except for my thigh-highs, unsure whether to sit or remain standing. The cool air made my nipples harden, and I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively.
“Sit,” he said, patting the cushion beside him. “And stop covering yourself. You have nothing to hide from me anymore.”
I lowered myself gingerly onto the leather, wincing slightly at the soreness in my bottom. He noticed, of course, and smiled with satisfaction.
“Tomorrow you’ll feel it even more,” he said conversationally. “Every time you sit at your desk, you’ll remember exactly how I used you tonight. How you begged for it.”
My face burned, but I couldn’t deny the truth of it. I had begged. Desperately.
“Now,” he continued, turning the tablet toward me, “let’s discuss this new assignment.
Melissa has been developing Her Secret Garden for six months, but she needs someone with your specific background to help refine the voice.
Someone who understands both sides—the New Modesty training and the hidden desires it’s meant to shape. ”
The screen showed a production schedule with dozens of episodes already in development. My name had been added to several of them as ‘Consultant.’
“You’ll be working closely with her,” Scott explained. “She has particular methods for drawing out authentic responses from her team. You’ll find her approach quite different from mine, though no less demanding.”
Something in his tone made my stomach flutter nervously. “Different how?”
“Melissa believes in a special kind of experiential learning. She’ll want to understand your responses firsthand, to ensure the edits and voiceovers capture genuine female desire rather than performance.” He set the tablet aside and turned to face me fully. “She’s quite hands-on in her research.”
The implication made my breath catch. “You mean she’ll…”
“She’ll do whatever she feels is necessary to understand your authentic responses,” he confirmed. “With my full approval, of course. Your training isn’t complete, Grace. Not even close. But between Melissa and me, we’ll help you understand exactly what kind of woman you really are.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing with possibilities. Another woman touching me, studying my responses, making me admit things I’d barely admitted to myself—the thought was both terrifying and shamefully exciting. I felt my brow furrow hard as I contemplated it.
“You’ll meet with her tomorrow at eleven. You’ll sleep here, after I fuck you again, and I’ll have my driver take you back to your place in the morning to get changed. You don’t need to be at the office until your meeting with Melissa.”
I nodded, unable to form words. The casual way he’d announced I’d be sleeping here, that he’d fuck me again, made my whole body flush with heat.
Despite everything we’d just done, despite the soreness in my bottom and the lingering ache below my waist, I felt fresh arousal building at his matter-of-fact assumption of control over my night.
“Good,” Scott said, standing and extending his hand to me. “Come. I want to show you something in my study.”
I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, hyperaware of my nakedness as he led me through his apartment.
The study was smaller than his office at Selecta, but no less impressive—dark wood shelves lined with books, a massive desk, and surprisingly, a collection of framed photographs I hadn’t expected.
“These are from my travels,” he said, noticing where my gaze had landed. “That one’s from Florence, actually. The Ponte Vecchio at sunset.”
I moved closer to examine the photograph, momentarily forgetting my state of undress. The golden light on the ancient bridge was breathtaking. “You took this?”
“Photography’s a hobby,” he said, moving behind me, his hands settling on my hips. “I like capturing moments of transition. The way light changes everything in an instant.”
His fingers traced up my sides, making me shiver. “Like you,” he murmured against my ear. “The way you transform when you let yourself surrender. It’s beautiful to watch.”
I turned in his arms to face him, searching his expression. There was something different in his eyes now, something softer than the commanding dominance he’d shown earlier. “Scott…”
“I know this is overwhelming,” he said, his thumb tracing my jawline.
“The belt, the videos, your first punishment anal. But you’re handling it remarkably well.
Better than I anticipated when I first reviewed your file.
It showed potential, but it didn’t capture what I’ve discovered about you.
Your capacity for shame and arousal in perfect balance.
Your analytical mind trying to make sense of your body’s needs. It’s captivating for me.”
I gasped as he pinched my nipple lightly, my back arching into his touch. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” I admitted. “With Jacob, I never… it was never like this.”
“Because Jacob was following a script,” Scott said, his other hand sliding between my legs to find me embarrassingly wet again. “He did what he thought a New Modesty husband should do. But he never saw who you really were underneath the compliance.”
His fingers circled my clit with practiced skill, making my legs tremble. “What am I?” I whispered.
“Mine,” he said simply, then pushed two fingers inside me, making me cry out. “You’re mine to train and to use.”