Chapter 11 #2
I place my hands on her hips, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing into my touch.
The contrast between my large hands and her slender frame reminds me of how easily I could overpower her, how completely at my mercy she is in this moment.
The thought sends a fresh surge of arousal through me, making my cock pulse against the confines of my pants.
Slowly, I gather the fabric of her dress, lifting it inch by inch.
First, revealing her knees, then the backs of her thighs, until finally, I expose the curve of her ass, barely covered by white panties visible through equally white stockings. The sight of her ass is beautiful. Her innocence is waiting to be corrupted, and her purity begging to be stained.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
She makes a small, choked sound in response, her ass trembling slightly. I can tell she’s fucking eager for me.
The fine fabric of her stockings is stretched tight over her curves as I brush her thighs with my fingertips. I want to rip her stockings open, to tear through the flimsy material and expose her slick pussy, but I restrain myself.
I need to be gentle, or she’ll get spooked.
“I’m going to remove your stockings now,” I tell her, hooking my fingers under the waistband of her stockings. She nods, a tiny movement I might have missed if I weren’t watching her so intently. Her fingers tighten on the edge of the dresser, knuckles whitening with the strength of her grip.
I peel the stockings down with excruciating slowness, savoring each new inch of skin revealed.
The fabric catches on her panties, dragging them down as well, and I don’t stop tugging.
Instead, I continue pulling, watching as both garments descend in tandem, exposing the pale globes of her ass to my hungry gaze.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe as I spot the glistening trail of slick connecting her pussy to her panties, stretching like a silken thread as I pull the fabric away from her body.
She breathes harder at my words, and I realize I need to control myself. She’s so soaked. A dark stain is spreading across the seat of her underwear. The sight of it makes my mouth water. I want to bury my face between her thighs, to lap at her sweet juices until she’s crying out my name.
“Sorry,” she says quietly, embarrassed when a stream of sticky slick stretches from her pussy to her panties on the ground.
Her panties and stockings now bunch around her ankles, trapping her legs close together.
“Don’t ever be sorry. You’re perfectly healthy,” I say in the clinical tone again, hiding how much I want her. The scent of her arousal fills the room, pure and undiluted, driving my alpha instincts into a frenzy. My cock is so hard it hurts, pre-cum leaking from the tip, dampening my boxers.
“Okay,” she says, her voice throaty and so fucking sexy.
I stare at the stained fabric between her feet, entranced by the stain of her slick that soaked through the thin cotton of her white panties.
“Spread your legs a bit more,” I instruct her, my voice hoarse with need. “As much as you can with the panties around your ankles.”
She complies immediately, widening her stance as much as the restricting fabric allows. The movement causes her ass cheeks to part slightly, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her pussy from behind. I cup her ass in my hands, feeling the firm flesh jiggle beneath my touch.
“Oh!” she says when I grab her ass.
“It’s okay, this is necessary,” I murmur. “Stay just like that.”
Her pussy is a thing of beauty. It’s glistening and pink, the outer lips swollen with arousal. Slick coats her inner thighs, leaving shiny trails down the soft skin. I can see her entrance pulsing, clenching on nothing, begging to be filled.
My cock throbs painfully, straining against my zipper to be set free. To rut her.
I watch, mesmerized, as a fresh droplet of slick forms in her pussy before slowly trailing down her inner thigh, joining the mess already there. Her pussy clenches again, the inner muscles contracting visibly around emptiness, seeking something to grip, to milk.
This is why omegas are so perfect, so necessary for a pack.
Their bodies are designed to accommodate multiple alphas, to take knot after knot during their heats, to be filled and bred. And Francine’s body is responding to me as if she were made for me. Her omega biology recognizes something in my alpha scent that calls to her on a primal level.
She wants me.
But with a shaking hand, I retrieve the ben wa balls from where I set them on top of the dresser. The steel spheres are cool against my palm, heavy and smooth. I bring them to her pussy, rubbing them through her wet folds, coating them in her abundant slick.
“Do you feel that?” I ask, circling her swollen clit with the metal spheres.
“Y-yes,” she gasps, her hips jerking at the contact.
Her reaction sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. I want to see her come and fall apart under my touch as she’s overcome with waves of pleasure. After she feels the toy inside of her all day, she’ll be crawling into my room wanting my knot.
“I’m going to put them inside you now,” I tell her, positioning the first ball at her entrance. “Try to relax.”
She nods, her breathing quickening with anticipation. I apply gentle pressure, watching as her pussy begins to accept the toy. Her pussy walls stretch around the metal ball, sucking greedily.
But suddenly there’s a barrier. And at the same moment, Francine lets out a small cry of pain, her body tensing.
I withdraw the toy immediately, alarm replacing desire. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
She straightens slightly, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her face is flushed, eyes wide and uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t think I can.”
The pieces suddenly fall into place. The resistance I felt, her nervous behavior, the sharp intake of breath.
“Francine,” I say slowly. “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes,” she replies, biting her lip and looking away from me.
The confirmation sends conflicting emotions surging through me. On one hand, anger at myself for potentially hurting her, for not asking before attempting to penetrate her. On the other hand, a primitive, possessive satisfaction that no alpha has claimed her, that her body remains untouched.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask, setting the toy aside and gently helping her pull her underwear and stockings back into place.
She straightens fully now, adjusting her dress to cover herself again.
“I didn’t think about it,” she admits, her voice small. “I got caught up in the moment, in how good it felt. I wanted to know what it would be like.”
The admission sends a fresh surge of arousal through me, but I suppress it. This changes everything. Her virginity is precious, something to be cherished and respected, not taken casually as part of some “research experiment” with sex toys.
“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” I say, touching her back gently, a gesture of comfort rather than desire.
She shakes her head quickly. “You didn’t. Not really. It just... surprised me.”
I can tell she’s embarrassed, her earlier confidence replaced by uncertainty. She’s avoiding my gaze now, her focus on smoothing down her dress and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t apologize,” I assure her.
“I should go,” she says, stepping away from me. “I hope your hand feels better soon.”
Before I can respond, she’s moving toward the door, her steps quick and determined. She pauses at the threshold, glancing back at me.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she says softly. “About... any of this.”
“I won’t,” I promise, and then she’s gone, the door closing quietly behind her.
For several long moments, I stand motionless in the center of my bedroom, processing what just happened. The scent of her arousal still hangs in the air, a constant reminder of how close I came to crossing a line I hadn’t even known was there.
Her virginity changes the dynamic completely. A virgin omega is rare, precious. If my brothers knew, they’d be even more protective of her—more possessive. The knowledge that she’s untouched would drive their alpha instincts into overdrive, just as it’s affecting mine now.
I pick up the Ben Wa balls, still coated with her slick, and walk to the bathroom. I should wash them, put them away, forget this ever happened. But before I put them under the faucet, I can’t resist bringing them to my nose first, inhaling deeply.
Her cherry blossom scent is concentrated here, sweet and intoxicating. Without thinking too much, I bring the spheres to my lips, my tongue darting out to taste her essence.
A groan escapes me as my control finally shatters. My free hand fumbles with my zipper, urgently freeing my painfully hard cock. I wrap my fingers around the shaft, already slick with pre-cum, and begin to stroke myself roughly.
The ben wa balls fall into the sink with a clatter as both hands move to my cock, pumping frantically.
Behind my closed eyes, I see Francine bent over my dresser, her ass raised, her pussy wet and ready.
I imagine sliding into her virgin heat, feeling her stretch around me, hearing her cry out as I take what no one else has claimed.
“Fuck,” I growl as my orgasm approaches with startling speed.
My muscles tense, my back arches, and I come with a roar, thick ropes of cum shooting across the bathroom floor. The intensity of the release leaves me gasping, leaning heavily against the counter for support.
I should have known better. Should have asked more questions before suggesting she try the toys. The memory of her bent over, wet, wanting is seared into my brain.
And that memory will never go away until the day we have her.