Chapter 15
Porter
I had lubed the plug well before I brought it over to the tub. Still, Alex’s adorable little button of an asshole was exceptionally tight, and she had contracted it still further at the first touch of the black silicone.
Alexandra Murphy had the kind of small, hesitant bottom I liked best to train and to fuck, but that sweet backside also represented a definite challenge—though to be sure of a sort I greatly enjoyed. Preparing her anus for my cock would take a little time, but I had no intention of hurrying.
“Easy,” I said, and let the tip rest there without pressing, giving her body time to discover that I would not force her compliance without warning. “No running away from it. This is going to happen to your bottom whether you like it or not, but not in a brutal way. Breathe for me.”
Her back trembled under my left palm. I had laid that hand atop her waist partly to steady her and partly because I wanted the information it gave me.
Alex expressed herself there. The small muscles along her spine tightened and released in waves; her breath caught, then lengthened; shame flared through her in one visible shiver and then dissolved into a softer yielding that I felt more than saw.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, though the yes came out thin and doubtful.
“It’s all right to be afraid.” I stroked once, lightly, down the center of her wet back. “You’re going to open your bottom for training anyway.”
I pushed again with the plug, no more than the smallest increase in pressure.
The slick point of the toy dimpled that tiny, resistant ring, and I held it there, refusing to let her push it back.
Alex made a little broken sound and tried to rise away from it.
I increased the pressure of my hand on her back.
“Stay. This is going to happen to your anus, so make up your mind to take it.”
She obeyed. I felt the obedience before I saw it: the subtle drop in her shoulders, the way her knees widened another inch on the porcelain, the way she pushed her lovely little bottom back despite what I could tell represented her traditional, rational ideas about herself.
“Good girl. Your body’s doing exactly what it should, this first time.
You’re resisting because you’ve never felt this kind of thing there before.
You’re learning.” I kept my tone calm, almost conversational.
“You don’t have to open your anus in some magical way.
You only have to stop fighting the idea of submitting to me. ”
The words made her clench again. I felt it in the way the plug met renewed resistance and in the way her spine went taut beneath my hand.
“Sir,” she said, voice catching, almost a whine. “It feels… too big. It’s… I feel like it’s going to hurt.”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath through my nose, keeping myself patient and trying to savor the exquisite experience of training her ass for the first time.
“It’s definitely going to hurt. And you’re going to accept that pain as a sign of your submission to your sponsor’s pleasure.
More important, the discomfort you’re about to feel will not prevent it from feeling good to you later.
Breathe in. Hold. Now let it out slowly. ”
She obeyed, and I timed the next pressure to the exhale. The little muscle gave a fraction. The narrowest part of the plug slipped inside her.
Alex gasped, then sobbed.
“There,” I murmured. “We’ve begun in earnest. That’s usually the most difficult part, though not the most painful.”
Her head dropped lower, nearly to her forearms. Her red hair drifted in the bathwater around her shoulders.
I could see the flush moving over her skin, high along her neck and across the tops of her shoulders, and under my palm I could feel the alternation I had already begun to know and to expect: mortification, heat, resistance, need, then another rush of mortification because the need was there at all.
None of it surprised me. I knew what kind of girl Alex was, better than she yet knew herself.
“Again,” I said softly. “Another breath.”
She dragged one in. This time when she let it out, I eased the plug deeper, not steadily but in small patient increments, allowing each stretch to settle before asking for the next.
The flared body of it was modest by the standards of those accustomed to anal play, but Alex’s ass was not experienced, and that was part of what made her so intoxicating to me.
Every fraction of surrender in that little pink ring felt meaningful and earned.
“Oh,” she whispered, and then, in a whine, “oh, God… sir…”
“You’re all right.”
“It’s getting bigger?”
“Yes.” My voice roughened a little. “And eventually I’m going to put something even bigger than this in your bottom.
So you’re going to learn what opening feels like when it happens properly.
Not by panic. Not by fighting. By yielding one little bit at a time.
You’re the kind of girl who needs it in the ass. ”
She shuddered all over. Between her spread thighs, above the surface of the bathwater, I could see a glistening of wetness between her pussy lips again.
I let my thumb trace a small reassuring arc against her back. “You feel that, don’t you. The shame of hearing it, and the excitement too.”
She gave the tiniest nod, then seemed to regret it at once.
“Use your words, Alex,” I said, smiling at the paternal tone I could hear in my voice.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir, what?”
* * *
Alex
For a moment I tried to pretend I didn’t know what he wanted me to add. I told myself that he couldn’t possibly expect me to say that… to repeat the terrible thing he had said.
Then I tried to make myself believe that even though I did understand exactly what this man… this man who planned to give me ten thousand dollars a month, plus housing and—apparently—sumptuous meals wanted me to say… even though I knew exactly the words he wanted, they absolutely weren’t true.
Even if I did say them, which I didn’t have any intention of doing, they wouldn’t actually describe me.
You’re the kind of girl who needs it in the ass.
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
His hand on my back pressed down just a fraction, enough to remind me how I was positioned for him: knees spread, backside raised, body arranged to make access easy.
The plug had gone inside me, not fully seated yet, but sufficiently deep that every tiny movement made me aware of it in a way that seemed to radiate through my whole lower body between waist and knees.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered finally, because it was all I could manage. “I… I’m the kind…”
“What kind of girl are you, Alex?”
The calmness of his voice made tears sting my eyes. I shook my head once, miserably, though I had no idea whether I meant no or simply I can’t.
Then his right hand changed its position. His thumb kept the plug where it was and his fingers slid forward under me.
I gasped.
They… those knowing digits… they found my need at once. The first stroke over my clit made my whole body jolt so hard that under the pressure of his thumb the plug nudged deeper inside me. I cried out.
“There,” he said quietly. “Feel that.”
I did. God, I did. The pressure in my ass, the humiliating little fullness of the toy opening me, and at the same time his hand on my pussy, making sense of it for my body before my mind could reject it.
“No,” I whispered, but it had no force in it at all.
“No?” His fingers moved again, slow and exact. “No, you’re not the kind of girl who responds this way to having her bottom trained?”
I made a broken sound, a dying, surrendering kind of whimper.
The answer was in my body already. Wetness flooded me afresh. My thighs trembled. I tried to hold still because movement only made everything worse, but that too became part of it: the effort not to writhe while he touched me, the certainty that he could feel every involuntary reaction.
He eased the plug another little bit inward.
The stretch made me whimper and push back despite myself, and I immediately hated myself for that too.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Take it. Let your sponsor open this little ass properly.”
His left hand stayed on my back, broad and anchoring, keeping me where he wanted me.
His right hand worked me with a patient, devastating rhythm.
I felt split in two—my mind full of resistance, of horror, of every ugly little phrase I had ever associated with women who allowed this, while my body melted around the evidence that he had been right from the start.
“It doesn’t mean what you think it means,” he said, as if he had reached directly into my thoughts. “It means your body wants to be trained carefully. It means you were made to enjoy being filled here, when a man knows what he’s doing.”
His fingers circled me. I dropped my forehead nearly into the water and moaned.
“Soon,” he said, “you’ll stop fighting the truth of it. Soon you’ll beg me to put my cock in your bottom.”
I shook my head at once, violently, because that was impossible, disgusting, unthinkable.
At exactly the same moment, my pussy clenched so hard under his hand that he gave a soft sound of satisfaction.
“Your body disagrees.”
He pushed the plug deeper.
This time the wider part entered me with a hot, frightening stretch that made me cry out and try to crawl forward.
His hand on my back held me in place effortlessly, without force and without cruelty; rather, with the assurance of a man who had already decided what was going to happen to me and meant to see it through.
“Hold still,” he said. “I’m training you, and you’re going to be trained. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Training.
That word again. I knew, somewhere, that it should have made me furious.
Instead it went through me low and hot, because it named so exactly what this was.
I was on all fours in his bath, naked and spread and being taught by touch and pressure and pleasure what I was meant to accept from him.
What I was meant, hideously, to learn to want.
He seated the plug all the way. I let out a tiny scream, rearing back like a wild animal, then hung my head as I felt the flare of it settle against me with a final intimate certainty, and then I was simply full.
Not with a man, not yet, but with something belonging to him, put into me by him for the purpose of changing me…
of making me more pleasurable for his use.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
“No,” he said softly behind me. “Sir.”
“Sir,” I said at once, voice shaking.
His fingers never stopped. He rubbed me through the aftershock of the plug going in, making my body translate violation into arousal with such ruthless efficiency that I wanted to sob.
Every pulse of pleasure seemed to wrap itself around that fullness in my bottom and tighten there.
I could feel the toy inside me every time he touched my clit.
I could feel my own body beginning to accept it.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “You feel how the two belong together for you. Your pussy and your ass. Your body knows exactly what I’m preparing you for.”
My body knew… and I knew too.
It didn’t represent an abstraction any longer.
The man who had for all intents and purposes bought my body for the sake of my ass meant to fuck me there.
He meant to teach me to take his cock in my anus and to make me understand that doing so did not degrade me accidentally but precisely, purposefully, in a way that would bind me more completely to him.
A woman who let her sponsor have her that way whenever he wanted.
A woman valuable enough to be used so thoroughly.
A woman made to prove her devotion and her worth by accepting even that discomfort for his pleasure.
The thought should have revolted me. Instead it made my legs shake harder.
“You’re going to love the feeling of being filled like this,” he said. “Not today, but soon. Soon you’ll crave it. Soon when I tell you to lube your anus and present your bottom for my cock, this little cunt will get wet immediately.”
His hand demonstrated the point. My whole body responded with such shameless immediacy that I let out a little cry and tried to hide my face.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, and for the first time since he had begun this particular humiliation, something in his voice made my chest tighten for a different reason.
“You need structure. You need a man who’ll train you properly and not use your body carelessly. I’m giving you that.”
I almost said I know, and I almost followed it with the admission I had balked at before.
I almost said thank you.
Instead I panted and trembled and let him make me feel what he wanted me to feel, because somewhere under my shame and confusion I had already begun to understand that he was, in his own severe and impossible way, taking care of me.
For his pleasure, yes. Absolutely for his pleasure.
But not only for that. He wanted something from me and for me at the same time, and my body knew the difference even when my pride kept trying to blur it.
His fingers grew firmer. The pressure built with shocking speed.
“I’m going to make you come on my plug,” he said near my ear. “And every time I do this, your body will learn a little more. It will learn that opening your ass for your sponsor leads to pleasure. It will learn to welcome fullness there. It will learn to beg.”
“No,” I said again, but this time it came out as a moan.
He laughed softly, not unkindly. “You can say no with your mouth while your cunt says yes with every pulse. I know how to listen.”