Chapter 24
Porter
The sight of my rigid cock vanishing into Alex’s adorable virgin bottom enraptured me.
The delicate, dainty, wrinkled inner lips of her thrillingly smooth pussy glistened with her need just above where my hardness now entered her.
The same copious wetness coated my rigid shaft from my ride in her velvet vagina, lubricating me as I opened the tiny button of her anus.
The bunched lace of the pretty white thong, just a soaked strip of fabric now, lay to the side, running along her outer lips and over her pert little bottom cheek.
The garter belt, suspenders, and sheer stockings framed my conquest of Alex’s pussy and bottom beautifully.
Little by little I impaled her on my phallus, taking my time to fill her most private place with this new lesson, her sopping panties simply moved aside for her sponsor’s convenience in fucking his new bed girl in cunt and anus.
“Touch yourself,” I said, my voice a little rougher than I intended. “Show me what your sponsor’s cock in your ass does to that little cunt.”
She made the sweetest, most stricken sound, and then obeyed.
Her fingers went between her legs, hesitant at first, as if the act of granting herself pleasure under my order still shocked her almost as much as the submission that had earned it.
I kept my hands on her upper thighs and kept her wide open for me while she began to stroke herself, and the desperate sexiness of the sight brought a jerk to my cock.
She raised her face a little from the bed and looked down her body, stealing a naughty glimpse of how my penis had claimed her and how her fingers worked her clit, trying to make it feel good.
I saw shame in her eyes, certainly. No girl with any pride would look otherwise while taking a man’s cock in her bottom and rubbing her own slick little sex because he had told her to.
But I could see something else in her expression too. Gratitude. And, even more movingly, a fragile bright thread of pride, as if she understood that she had done something difficult for me and had been found worthy of reward.
Her face struck me with absurd force at that moment.
I had told myself I was managing this: structuring the way I introduced her to these dark pleasures, keeping my own emotions within the bounds of what I could command and explain and pay for.
But the sight of Alex Murphy with my cock in her ass, touching her pussy because I had decided she had earned it, raising her eyes to look at me as if my approval mattered in some deeper way than the simple terms of an arrangement—it didn’t seem like the kind of sight a prudent man would allow to assume real importance in his mind or his heart.
But it occurred to me with a disorienting urgency that I was losing the fight not to love her.
The realization might have alarmed me more if my cock hadn’t been buried in her virgin asshole while her body tightened around it in needy pulses.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Good girl. Play with your cunt properly. Let your body learn what opening your bottom for me can earn you.”
She cried out softly and obeyed more fully.
Her fingers moved with increasing urgency.
I gave her a slow stroke, then another, savoring the exquisite drag of her tiny anus on my shaft, the way her whole body answered every inch.
Her cunt had gotten even more visibly wet, and every time she touched herself I watched the movement with hungry fascination.
“Sir,” she whispered, her voice straining with the discomfort of having her bottom fucked for the first time.
“Yes?”
“Please…” Her voice trembled. “Please, may I come?”
* * *
Alex
I felt very keenly how easily he could have denied me. Indeed, I knew Porter well enough by now, I thought, to have a reasonable expectation that he would deny me. At the moment, though, I couldn’t bear the thought.
And yet I had asked.
The very idea told me, to my dismay, that the structure of asking, of waiting, of receiving permission from my sponsor… I needed it. I felt paradoxically like I couldn’t bear not to climax, whatever Porter said, and also that I couldn’t bear to come without his permission.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re being a very good girl. Come on my cock. Come while I’m in your ass.”
The words went straight through me. My whole body answered before my mind could even frame a response, whether gratitude, shame, or relief. I cried out and convulsed around him at once, my fingertips slipping over my clit more and more rapidly as the orgasm hit with shocking force.
Porter’s hands closed harder on my legs, opened me even wider, pushed my knees further back.
That renewed restraint, the bondage of his thick, strong fingers, seemed to create a feedback loop of shame, arousal, discomfort, and finally forced pleasure.
I writhed under him, but there was nowhere for me to go.
He held me exactly where he wanted me, folded and used and made to come with his cock still deep in my ass, and the helplessness of it poured fuel on the climax until it seemed to break over me in wave after wave.
I heard myself making raw, desperate sounds. My thighs shook violently. My deprived pussy clenched on emptiness while my bottom spasmed around the thick intrusion of him, and the combination was so intense, so humiliatingly complete, that tears sprang to my eyes.
“Oh… oh, God… oh, sir…”
“That’s it,” he said, his voice rough now. “Take it in the ass. Come hard for me.”
I did. I couldn’t have stopped if he had ordered me to.
My body bucked over the bed underneath him, checked instantly by the iron certainty of his hold.
Each time I tried to move more freely I felt how completely he controlled the shape of my pleasure.
Even my orgasm had to happen inside the frame of his hands.
Then something changed in him. I felt it first in the thrusting.
He had kept that same measured command of himself, not gentle at all but very deliberate.
Now the rhythm turned heavier, more urgent.
His breath caught once. The knowledge flashed through me, dizzying and indecent: the sight of me coming like that, the feeling of my body clenching and shaking around him, had pushed him nearer to his own climax much faster than he had intended.
The thought sent another helpless spasm through my limbs.
“Christ,” he muttered.
He drove into me twice more, hard enough to make me cry out afresh, and then he came.
I felt the hot pulses inside my bottom and shuddered all over again at the intimacy of that, at the raw possession in it.
He stayed buried for a moment, one hand still pinning me, as if he meant me to feel every last throb.
When he withdrew, the emptiness made me gasp. He released my legs, and lowered them gently, urging me further up the bed and then letting my feet hang off the side as he stood.
I stayed where I was for a few seconds, trembling over the edge of the bed, my cheek turned against the softness of the sheet, breathing as if I had run a great distance.
Then I heard him move away. Water ran in the bathroom.
I remained frozen where he had left me, because I wasn’t sure I could stand yet and because some instinct in me had become very wary of assuming permission.
When he came back, I turned my head enough to see him drying his hands.
My voice sounded small and unsteady. “May I take the… the lingerie off now? And… please… may I use the bathroom?”
His gaze moved over me where I still lay half-draped over the table in white lace and stockings, the thong displaced and damp, the whole outfit in disarray from his use. His expression stayed composed.
“No.”
The single word made heat rise in my face at once.
“You look far too pretty like this,” he said. “And I haven’t finished with you. I’m going to fuck your bottom again before you’re allowed out of your lingerie.”
I swallowed hard. The words sent fear and a dark pulse of excitement through me so quickly that I blushed to the roots of my hair.
Then his eyes dropped lower, and a faint, coolly amused note entered his voice. “Also, you made a mistake.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You put the suspenders on over your panties.” He stepped closer, touched one of the straps lightly with a fingertip, and I felt absurdly exposed under that tiny gesture.
“That means a man has to go to unnecessary trouble to take your underwear down for discipline and fucking. So a simple punishment is definitely in order.”
My stomach tightened.
“No panties for you tonight, or tomorrow, of course. Tonight was an exception because I wanted to play with those pretty white ones. That’s not your punishment, though. That’s just the rule going back into effect.”
I stared at him, and the flush that followed seemed to move all the way down my throat and chest. It was such a small thing, especially in comparison with everything else I had done and undergone so far.
Such a ridiculous thing. And yet it had terrible force.
Bare under the suspenders. Bare because he had decided I should be.
Bare because I had dressed in a way that might hinder him from taking his pleasure in my pussy and anus as easily as he preferred.
He saw all that happen in my face.
“Up,” he said.
I obeyed carefully, wincing a little at the tenderness in my bottom. He took my arm and led me toward the bathroom with infuriating calm.
Inside the bright marble room he positioned me in front of the toilet, then stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his body heat at my back.
“Unfasten the suspenders from the stockings,” he said.
My fingers felt clumsy. I looked down at my legs encased in the sheer white fabric, the neat little clips holding the straps in place to the tops of the stockings.
Even that seemed to humiliate me further: the ridiculous daintiness of the task, performed under his supervision while my ass still ached from his cock.