Chapter 21
Grace
“And you’re going to learn exactly what that means,” Scott continued, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to my lips. “Clean them.”
I opened, helpless to disobey, tasting myself on his skin as he pushed his fingers into my mouth. The flavor was sharp, unmistakably feminine, evidence of how desperately aroused I remained despite everything he’d already done to me.
“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling his hand away. “Now come to the bedroom.”
He led me down a hallway to his bedroom, a spacious room dominated by a king-sized bed with dark sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered another spectacular view of the city lights, making me acutely aware that anyone in the neighboring towers might be able to see my naked form.
“On the bed,” he commanded, already pulling his sweater over his head. “On your back, head hanging over the edge.”
I looked at him for a moment, my hands out in front of me, balling into fists and then loosening as I tried to figure out whether I was going to obey.
The question didn’t seem to have anything to do with what I actually wanted—I didn’t have any idea about that, as far as I could tell.
It felt like a matter not of desire but of attempting to predict the future: would my body assume the position my boss—my master—had just told me to assume.
“Go on,” Scott, shirtless now, said. The sight of his six-pack abs, beneath his salt-and-pepper-hairy chest, made me chew my lower lip. “Do I need to spank you, naughty girl, to make things clear?”
“No!” I said, taking a little step back, feeling my cheeks blaze even as my pussy clenched treasonously down below, where I could still feel the stretch his enormous penis had enforced on me, both in front and behind.
I put my hands behind me, reflexively clutching at my bottom-cheeks as if I could stop my boss from doing precisely as he chose with my bare backside.
I saw the future, in my head—the next few moments of it, anyway.
Scott had made it so very clear that if I didn’t follow his shameful instruction I would go over his knee to learn a hard lesson from his firm hand.
I didn’t want to be spanked, so I would definitely lie that obscene way on his luxurious bed, ready for my master’s degrading, demanding use. Desire had nothing to do with it.
Except it does, whispered the voice at the back of my head. The reason you’re not thinking about it is just that you don’t want to know how badly you need it.
“Well?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly in a way that made me swallow hard. How could he look so gorgeous and so dangerous at the same time?
“I… yes, sir… I mean… no, sir… please… I’ll… I’ll do it!” I moved to the bed with alacrity, my hands still behind me in case Scott decided to punish me for my initial reluctance.
“Take those hands away,” he ordered from behind me. “Put them flat on the bed and arch your back. I told you not to cover yourself.”
I looked back over my shoulder, a plea in my eyes that met only the certainty in Scott’s gaze as he advanced toward me.
“Eyes forward,” he told me. “That little ass belongs to me now.”
I felt my hips twitch. My heart pounding, I turned toward the bed. As if in a trance, I obeyed him, bending, laying my hands on the silken comforter cover, pushing my bottom out. Scott’s left hand curled around my waist.
“Good girl,” he said, and then he spanked me six times, left-right, left-right, left-right so hard that I was screaming and writhing by the last one.
When he let me go I collapsed onto the bed, clutching my bottom, rubbing hard.
“Are you going to obey me, Grace?” Scott asked, his voice calm but somehow still menacing.
I scrambled to position myself as he had instructed, the blood immediately rushing to my head as it dropped back over the side of the mattress. From this inverted angle, I watched him strip completely, his cock already hard again, thick and intimidating as he approached my upturned face.
“Open,” he said simply.
I parted my lips, and he pushed inside without preamble, the angle allowing him to slide deeper than I’d ever taken anyone before. My throat constricted around him instinctively, but he didn’t pull back, holding himself there until tears streamed from my eyes into my hairline.
“Breathe through your nose,” he instructed, beginning to move with slow, deliberate thrusts. “That’s it. Let me use your throat the way a good little fuck toy does.”
The position left me completely helpless, unable to control depth or pace.
He fucked my face with the same methodical intensity he’d shown earlier, each thrust pushing deeper until I was taking him to the base, feeling my throat bulge with his thickness.
The lace-topped stockings on my legs felt terribly lewd in this position, the only clothing left on my thoroughly used body, surely just accentuating the bareness of my pussy’s tender cleft.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re taking my cock so well. You’re just a pretty little whore, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t answer, could only make desperate sounds around his length as he continued using my mouth.
My world narrowed to his strong, furred thighs, his swaying scrotum.
My hands clutched at the sheets, my body trembling from the intensity of the submission.
When he finally pulled out, I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering.
Before I could recover, he was repositioning me, pulling my body to the foot of the bed. He pushed me onto my back, then hooked his hands under my knees, spreading me wide and lifting my legs up and apart until I was completely exposed, completely open.
“Look at me,” he commanded, positioning the head of his huge cock at the entrance to my vagina and pressing just enough to make me sob.
I met his gaze as he pushed inside my pussy with surprising gentleness, the tenderness of it after such rough use making my eyes well with fresh tears. He moved slowly at first, each thrust deep but careful, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Watch,” he murmured, his hands shifting to grip behind my knees more firmly, angling my hips so I had a perfect view of where we were joined. “Look down, Grace. Watch me claim what’s mine.”
I lowered my gaze, a whimper escaping at the sight of his thick shaft disappearing into my bare, swollen flesh.
The visual was overwhelming—seeing myself stretched around him, watching the slow, deliberate way he withdrew his enormous, rigid shaft almost completely before sliding back in.
My pussy lips clung to him with each movement, glistening with my shameful arousal.
“So pretty,” Scott said, his voice reverent even as his pace remained torturously slow. “Your sweet little cunt takes me so perfectly. Tell me how it feels.”
“Full,” I gasped, unable to look away from where he was splitting me open. “So full, sir. I can see… oh, God, I can see everything.”
“That’s right.” His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh behind my knees, keeping me spread impossibly wide. “This is what you are now. A set of sweet openings where I fuck. And you love it, don’t you?”
Before I could answer, his rhythm changed. The tenderness evaporated as he began pounding into me with brutal force, each thrust driving so deep I saw stars. My breasts bounced with the violence of it, and I had to grip the sheets to keep from being pushed up the bed.
“Keep watching,” he commanded when my head fell back. “Don’t you dare look away.”
I forced my eyes back down, sobbing at the obscene sight of his cock pistoning in and out of my pussy. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with my desperate cries and his satisfied grunts. When his thumb found my clit, circling it with practiced precision, I shattered completely.
The orgasm ripped through me like lightning, my whole body convulsing as I screamed his name. He fucked me through it, never slowing, until a second climax crashed over me before the first had even finished. Only then did he bury himself deep with a growl, flooding me with his release.
The next morning arrived too quickly. Scott’s driver delivered me to my apartment at seven-thirty, my body still aching from the night’s use.
Every movement reminded me of him—the soreness down there, the tender spots on my bottom where he’d spanked me, the rawness in my throat.
I showered quickly, chose a modest gray dress to go over the terrible belt, and made my way to Selecta headquarters.
Melissa Mitropoulos’s office occupied a corner of the thirty-second floor, far more elegant than I’d expected for someone in alternative content. She answered the door herself when I knocked—tall, stunning, with Mediterranean features that commanded attention immediately.
“Grace,” she said, her voice warm, but with an undertone that made me feel slightly faint. “Scott’s told me a lot about you. Come in.”
Her office featured clean lines and modern art, with a view that rivaled Scott’s. She gestured to a chair across from her sleek glass desk, but before I could sit, she held up a hand.
“Actually, let me show you what I’m working on first. It’s the next segment of Leah’s story—something that hasn’t been released yet.”
She turned her monitor toward me, and I remained standing as the video began. Leah was in what looked like a punishment room, bent over a padded bench with her wrists secured to the legs. Brian stood behind her with a wooden paddle, his expression stern.
“You spoke back to me at dinner,” he said on screen. “In front of my colleagues. That kind of disrespect requires serious correction.”
The first strike of the paddle made me flinch. Leah’s scream was raw, desperate. Brian didn’t pause, delivering stroke after stroke with mechanical precision while Leah sobbed and begged. After twenty strokes, her bottom was deep red, almost purple in places.
“Please, sir, I’m sorry!” Leah wailed. “I’ll never disrespect you again!”
“I know you won’t,” Brian said calmly, setting the paddle aside. “Because we’re not finished.”
My breath caught as he produced something from a drawer—a massive black plug, easily twice the size of anything I’d seen in the previous videos. Leah’s eyes went wide with terror when she saw it.
“No, please, it’s too big!” she begged, pulling uselessly at her restraints.
“You’ll take it,” Brian said simply, coating it with lubricant. “And you’ll wear it for the rest of the day to remember your place.”
I watched, transfixed, as he worked the enormous plug into Leah’s tiny bottom. Her screams echoed through Melissa’s office as he pushed relentlessly, stretching her impossibly wide. When it finally seated fully, the base nestled between her punished cheeks, Leah had gone limp, whimpering softly.
Melissa paused the video suddenly, and I became aware that I was breathing hard, my thighs pressed together beneath my dress. She stood from her desk with fluid grace, moving around to stand directly in front of me.
“You’re aroused,” she observed, not a question but a statement of fact. “Scott mentioned you respond strongly to anal punishment scenes.”
My face burned. “I… Ms. Mitropoulos, I don’t think—”
“Melissa,” she corrected, her fingers coming up to trace my jawline. “And I think you respond to authority in general. Female authority as much as male. Kneel.”
The command was delivered so casually, so confidently, that I found myself dropping to my knees before I could even process the decision. The gray dress rode up my thighs as I knelt on her plush carpet, looking up at her with wide eyes.
Melissa’s forefinger came under my chin, lifting my face a millimeter further.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said softly, “which won’t be so secret once I raise my skirt and you show me the proper respect with that sweet little tongue of yours. I’m highly aroused too.”