Chapter Seven — Alex
I walk into Father’s booth. He’s still wearing his hood. I can make out bits and pieces of his face, and I think I was correct in guessing his age. He looks like he’s either in his late forties or early fifties. He looks like he’s maybe six feet tall, normal build.
“You have five minutes,” he says. “Start talking.”
I sit down on the bench, and he sits directly across from me.
“Okay,” he says. “Tell me, little girl. What is the dirtiest fantasy in that devious little mind of yours?”
I breathe out. Do I have the courage to say it?
“Remember the second part of your penance,” he says.
Oh, right. I reach under my skirt and begin to slip a finger into my pussy. He can’t see anything since my hand is underneath my dress. I wonder if he’ll ask me to raise it, but he doesn’t.
“Eyes on me,” he says. “And use at least two fingers.”
I slip a second finger in, my entire body flushing. There’s something about him ordering me around and making me look at him that makes this so much harder.
“Start talking,” he says.
I’m nervous, so I just start talking. And spilling my darkest thoughts.
“It’s — well, a bunch of men,” I say.
“Go on.”
“First, they make me strip. Expose myself to them.”
“And how does that make you feel?” he says.
“Exposed. Vulnerable. Embarrassed.”
“I see,” he says. “And what else?”
I bite my lower lip, turned on.
“Good girl,” he says. “Make sure you’re touching your clit too.”
My body flushes, and I start to rub my clit with my thumb. I feel pleasure mounting, and I’m a little less nervous now, less inhibited.
“Continue,” he says. “And once you’re naked, what do these men do?”
“They inspect me.”
“And what does that look like?”
“They make me put my hands down. Show my body to them.”
“And do they like what they see?”
I nod.
“Use your words, little girl,” he says.
“Yes,” I say. “They like it. They love it, in fact. They think I’m beautiful. Perfect.”
“I’m not surprised,” he says. I blush.
“What’s next?” he says.
“A few of them touch me.”
“Touch you where?”
“They play with my breasts.”
“And how does that feel?”
“Good,” I say. “But bad also.”
“What do you mean?”
“It feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why not?”
“Because good girls don’t like things like this.”
He nods. “Okay. And so, you’re standing up there, naked, and these men are admiring you, touching your body, turning you on, and that feels wrong because you shouldn’t be liking this, but you do. Is that right?”
I nod.
“And then what happens?”
“They make me admit it.”
“Oh,” he says. “Kind of like what’s happening now.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Do you like this?” he asks.
“Uh—” I say.
“Add another finger,” he says. I slip a third finger in, and my face turns redder.
“Say it,” he says.
“Yes,” I say.
“So, after they’ve inspected you, what happens?”
“One of them—” This part is hard to say. I bite my lower lip.
“Go on.”
“Spanks me,” I whisper.
“Say that louder.”
“Spanks me.”
“Why is that hard to say?”
“It’s embarrassing,” I say.
“Good girl,” he says. “How does he spank you?”
“Over his lap,” I say.
“What else?”
“My legs are spread, straddling him. I’m locked in place so I can’t move.”
“So you’re helpless,” he says.
I nod. “Vulnerable.”
I nod again.
“What do you like about that?”
“I like that I can’t do anything. I’m pinned in place and he just makes me take it. Punishing me. Asserting dominance. Treating me like a little girl, but at the same time I’m turned on.” I blush.
“Oh. How do you know you’re turned on?”
“I’m wet,” I say.
“I see. Tell me more. What happens during the spanking?”
“It’s hard and it hurts. But at some point he stops and notices.”
“Notices what?”
“That I’m wet.”
“Mmm,” Father says. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Embarrassed. Turned on. Exposed.”
“And what does he say?”
“He teases me. I deny it at first, but it’s kind of impossible. Because it’s obvious.”
I nod. “And then he makes me—” I breathe in quickly. This part’s hard to say.
“What?”
“Suck it.”
“Suck what?”
“My own juices. Off his fingers.”
“Dirty girl,” Father says. I blush.
“And then, when he’s done—” I don’t know why I’m giving so many details, but Father is making it easier to open up. “He puts a plug in me.”
“Where?”
“Back there.”
“Look at me and say it.”
“My bottom,” I say.
“And that makes you feel embarrassed but turned on.”
I nod, thankful I don’t have to explain that one.
“Then what happens?”
“After I’ve been punished, he makes me give him a blowjob. Everyone’s watching. I’m there on my knees. My ass is red, and I’m taking his cock.”
“And what’s the blowjob like?”
“It’s rough,” I say. “He’s grabbing my hair, thrusting down my throat. Some of the men are touching me at the same time.”
“I see. And you’re getting turned on.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Which I hate because it’s so degrading, and I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“Does he finish?”
I nod.
“And you swallow.”
I nod again, feeling my cheeks heat up even more.
“Good,” he says. “And then what happens?”
“Well, then it really starts—”
“Time!” Callum says.
“Shame,” the man says. “I wanted to hear the rest of your story. But you did an excellent job completing your penance. Good girl.”
“Thanks,” I say.
He exits, and I breathe out. My entire body feels like it’s vibrating. I’m so turned on that if the wind blew, it might tip me over the edge. At the same time, I feel shaky, like I’ve just come off an all-nighter.
I compose myself and step out of the booth. I look at Callum, and I’m reminded about the ponytail. I don’t think I’m ready yet, though.
He looks at me and nods. I smile.
“All good?” he asks, and I nod.
“Alright,” Callum says. He looks at the man on the right end of the line, who’s already stepped forward. “Proceed,” he says.
I turn and head back into my side of the booth.