Chapter 15
Laura
I felt my forehead crease. “A proposal? For an app?”
“Yes.” Mike’s thumb continued its gentle stroking along my jaw. “I want you to design something ambitious. Something that could actually make a difference. Don’t worry about budget constraints or technical limitations—just think big. What would the ideal philanthropy platform look like?”
I stared at him, my mind struggling to shift gears from what we’d just done to… software development? “I don’t understand. Why would you—”
“Because you’re smart,” he said simply. “Because you were passionate when you talked about it at the café. And because I think you need something productive to focus on.” His expression softened.
“I think you’ve been drifting, Laura. Probably since you got to college and the world opened up for you and you weren’t sure which way to go.
I want to give you a project. Something meaningful. ”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
He was right—I had been drifting. Aimless.
Just trying to survive from one day to the next without any real direction despite the wealth of opportunity that had been around me.
The thought of having a purpose again, like I’d had in high school when the only thing I was focused on was getting out. If I had something to work toward…
“It can be as wild and ambitious as you want,” Mike continued. “Dream big. I’ll review whatever you come up with.”
Before I could respond, he leaned down and kissed me. Not rough or demanding like I’d expected, but gentle. Almost tender. His lips moved against mine with surprising softness, and I found myself kissing him back without thinking.
The kiss deepened gradually, his tongue sliding against mine as his hand moved from my jaw to cup the back of my head.
I melted into him, my body responding despite—or, I suddenly thought with a flare of heat in my face, because of—everything he’d demanded of me tonight, all the degradation and the shameful service.
His other hand slid down my back, stroking my spine, and I shivered against him.
Then his palm found my bottom cheek, and I gasped into his mouth as he squeezed the still-tender flesh. The soreness flared under his touch, making me acutely aware of every handprint he’d left there. His fingers moved lower, finding the base of the plug, and he pressed against it.
The sensation shot through me like electricity.
I whimpered, my hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Mike made a satisfied sound against my lips.
He continued kissing me while his hand played with the plug—pressing it deeper, shifting it slightly, creating sparks of sensation that made my sealed pussy throb with renewed need.
“Mike,” I gasped against his mouth, asking for something without any idea of what.
He pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, and his eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Watch,” he commanded softly.
I watched, my heart hammering, as he shifted back from me on the bed and stood. His hands moved to his belt, unfastening it with deliberate slowness. Then his pants. Then his briefs. He pushed them down together until they were around his knees.
“Look at what you do to me,” he said, and I couldn’t help but stare.
His cock stood rigid, impossibly hard, the thick shaft jutting out from his body.
I felt my face go hot as I realized how aroused he was—how turned on he got at the idea of possessing me.
It was bigger than I remembered from earlier, or maybe it just seemed that way now that I could see all of it, thrusting out obscenely from his dark, wiry pubic curls, framed by the breathtaking sight of his muscular lap, his hairy thighs, the wrinkly pouch of his scrotum beneath.
Mike wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “This is what you do to me, Laura. Your body. Making you submit. Punishing you. The thought of opening you in every way on my manhood.”
I watched, transfixed and mortified in equal measure, as he pleasured himself. His hand moved in long, steady strokes, and I could see the muscles in his forearm flex with each movement. My face burned hotter with every second, but I couldn’t look away.
Then his other hand reached out and cupped my right breast. His palm was warm against my skin as he fondled me, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardened under his touch. The sensation sent sparks straight to my sealed pussy, and I let out a little whimper as I felt myself clench hard.
“So responsive,” he murmured, his hand continuing to pump his erection while he played with my breast. “Such a good little slut for your sponsor.”
His hand moved lower, sliding over my belly, my hip, until his fingers found the seal between my legs. He pressed against it, and I gasped at the sensation. The pressure was maddening—so close to what I needed but not enough, never enough.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please… sir.”
Mike’s fingers explored the seal, tracing the unnatural line where my labia had been pressed together. Then his hand moved over my hip to find the base of the plug in my bottom. He pressed against it, and I cried out as the fullness intensified.
The humiliation crashed over me in waves.
He was using me like an object, touching me wherever he wanted while he pleasured himself, and all I could do was take it.
All I could do was watch him stroke his cock while he fondled my breasts and my sealed pussy and my plugged bottom like they belonged to him.
Because they did belong to him. I’d sold them to him for ten thousand dollars.
The thought made my pussy clench so hard I sobbed.
The shame of it—the degradation of being made to watch him masturbate—made me whimper, my thighs clenching together involuntarily.
The arousal felt overwhelming, flooding through my system alongside the mortification, feeding on it somehow.
My face burned with shame, but between my legs I felt fresh wetness gathering at the tiny opening in my seal.
My body was betraying me completely, responding to the degradation with desperate need.
“Think about this, sweetheart,” Mike said, his voice rough as his hand moved faster on his shaft.
“I can touch myself whenever I want. I can come whenever I want. But you—” his fingers pressed harder against the plug, making me gasp “—from now on you have to obey my rules about how you touch this luscious body.”
The words sent a jolt of humiliation through me so intense I thought I might actually come just from hearing them.
He was right. He had complete freedom over his own body while I had to ask permission to seek relief from this constant aching need, or I would go back over his knee and feel his firm hand on my bare backside.
The power imbalance was absolute, and my sealed pussy clenched hard at the thought.
“Come here,” he commanded, his voice husky. “On your knees.”
I scrambled off the bed, my legs shaky as I dropped to my knees in front of him. From this angle, his cock seemed even more imposing, jutting out at eye level as his hand worked the rigid length.
“Kiss it,” he said. “Kiss my cock while I finish.”
My lips trembled as I leaned forward and pressed them against the broad head. The skin was hot and silky, and I felt his shaft twitch at the contact. I kissed him again, then again, my lips moving over the swollen crown while his fist pumped just below.
“Lower,” Mike commanded. “Lick my balls.”
Oh, god. My face blazed even hotter, but I obeyed, ducking my head to find the heavy sac beneath his cock.
My tongue darted out, tasting the masculine musk of him, and I heard him grunt above me.
I licked again, more confidently this time, my tongue exploring while his hand moved faster on his shaft.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Such a good little cocksucker. Keep licking.”
I whimpered at the crude words but continued, my tongue working over every inch of skin I could reach while he pleasured himself above me. The position made me feel impossibly submissive, impossibly owned, and my pussy throbbed with frustrated need behind its seal.
“I’m going to come on your face,” Mike said, his voice tight. “Stay still.”
He put out his left hand to enforce the command, his fingers twining in my hair. My eyes flew up to meet his, wide with shock and mortification. On my face? But before I could process the command, his hand moved faster, his breathing growing ragged, and then I felt the first hot spurt hit my cheek.
I gasped, flinching slightly, but forcing myself to hold still as he’d commanded.
Another pulse landed on my nose, then my other cheek, warm and thick and utterly degrading.
Mike stroked himself through the final pulses, and I felt more of his seed land on my chin, my forehead.
When he finally finished, his hand gentled in my hair, and I stayed frozen on my knees, hardly daring to breathe.
The warm fluid clung to my skin, sliding slowly down my cheeks, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Part of me—a shameful, traitorous part—felt proud. I’d done this to him. I’d made my sponsor climax, gotten him so aroused he’d marked me with his release. The thought sent a confusing rush of satisfaction through my chest even as my face burned with mortification.
But another part of me just felt degraded.
Used. His seed was on my face—actually on my face—and I could smell the masculine musk of it, could feel the cooling trails it left on my skin.
I wanted to wipe it off, wanted to run to the bathroom and scrub myself clean, but his hand was still in my hair and I didn’t dare move without permission.
“Beautiful,” Mike murmured, and I heard genuine appreciation in his voice. “You look absolutely beautiful like this, sweetheart.”
The praise made my stomach flutter despite everything. Despite the humiliation, despite the degradation, some part of me preened at his words. Some part of me wanted to be beautiful for him, even like this.
His hand released my hair and moved to cup my cheek, his thumb smearing his seed across my skin in a gesture that felt almost tender. “You pleased me very much tonight, Laura.”
The words made warmth bloom in my chest, and I wanted to hate myself for it. For wanting his approval so desperately. For caring whether I’d satisfied him after everything he’d put me through.
“You may clean yourself up now,” Mike said, stepping back and pulling his briefs and pants up with efficient movements. “And when you’re done, come back here. The plug stays in.”
I stood on shaky legs and fled to the bathroom, my face burning. In the mirror, I looked wrecked—my hair a mess, my makeup smeared, and his seed marking my face in thick white streaks. The sight made my stomach clench with fresh mortification, and I grabbed a washcloth with trembling hands.
The warm water felt good against my skin as I cleaned myself, but I couldn’t stop my mind from replaying what had just happened. How I’d knelt before him. How I’d kissed his cock and licked his balls while he pleasured himself. How I’d held still while he marked me with his release.
How I’d liked it, some dark part of me whispered. How it had made me wet behind the horrible seal, how my body had responded with desperate arousal even as my mind screamed in protest.
When I finally felt clean enough, I dried my face and forced myself to return to the bedroom.
Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now, his expression calm and composed like nothing unusual had happened.
Like he hadn’t just shot his seed all over the face of an innocent young woman.
“Kneel,” Mike said, his voice gentle, but leaving no room for argument.
I lowered myself to my knees in front of him, my hands folded in my lap, my gaze fixed on the floor. The plug in my bottom made the position intensely uncomfortable, a constant reminder of what he’d put there, what he’d made me do.
His hand came to rest on my cheek, warm and surprisingly tender. I couldn’t help but lean into the touch slightly, craving the comfort even as shame flooded through me at how desperately I needed it.
“You’re going to sleep with the plug in your bottom tonight,” he said, and his thumb stroked across my cheekbone. “But you may take it out in the morning and clean it thoroughly.”
The thought of sleeping with it made my stomach flip. All night. I’d have to feel it all night, be aware of it every time I shifted position, every time I rolled over. But I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Mike’s hand moved to cup my chin, tilting my face up so I had to meet his eyes.
Those dark eyes that saw too much, that knew exactly what I was feeling even when I tried to hide it.
He leaned down and kissed me, his lips moving against mine with surprising gentleness.
The kiss was soft, almost chaste compared to everything else that had happened tonight, and I felt something warm unfurl in my chest.
When he pulled back, his expression was serious.
“You are not to play with yourself without permission,” he said, his voice firm.
“Do you understand me, Laura? That includes squeezing. You know I can see that, thanks to your sensor, and I’m going to set the app to alert me if you start to stimulate your pussy. ”
I nodded again, my face burning.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered. “I understand.”
“If you disobey me, you’ll be severely punished.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “The spanking you got tonight will seem gentle compared to what I’ll do if I catch you pleasuring yourself without permission. Do you understand?”
My throat went dry. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” He kissed me one more time, quick and possessive, and then he stood. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
I stayed on my knees as he walked to the door, my whole body trembling. I heard him pause in the doorway, and when he spoke again his voice held warmth that made my chest ache.
“You pleased me greatly tonight, Laura. I’m very proud of you.”