Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
In his voice I heard knowledge that made my heart ache with longing for his arms, even as I felt to my distress another ache beginning to rise again between my thighs—for something harder and less yielding than Dylan’s embrace.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
“Good girl,” my accepted suitor said, and brought the strap down again.
The next few minutes seemed to last years. Dylan whipped my bottom and upper thighs so hard I thought I would never sit down again. I knew I would have bruises to remind me in the mirror every morning for a week at least how strict my accepted suitor was with me. I wept and whimpered as the white-hot agony built and built on my rear end.
And yet I also tried, as much as the restraints would allow, to push out my punished cheeks for more. I wanted to show Dylan and Greta and Devin and even the other associates—and Lila and Lydia, if their suitors let them see—that Dylan could tame me and turn me into his good girl. It hurt so much, but I knew I could please the man I loved by showing how thoroughly I accepted his justice.
Dylan delivered the final lash with a resounding crack. I let out a choked sob, my body trembling as the last wave of pain washed over me. My bottom felt like it was on fire, each throb a reminder of my punishment and Dylan’s authority over me.
“Twenty-four,” Dylan announced, his voice steady but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. Compassion? Desire? Both?
I heard the soft thud of the strap being set down on the side table. My breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to process that it was finally over. Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto the leather of the ottoman beneath me.
Then I felt Dylan’s hand on my lower back, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “You took that very well, sweetheart,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. “I’m proud of you.”
His words sent a surge of warmth through me, momentarily overshadowing the burning ache in my bottom. I whimpered softly, overcome by the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure.
Dylan’s hand began to move lower, caressing the curve of my hip before sliding between my legs. I gasped as his fingers brushed against my bare pussy, my body instinctively trying to press back against his touch despite the restraints.
To my shock and mortification, I realized I had become soaking wet. Dylan’s fingers glided easily through my folds, spreading the evidence of my arousal. I sobbed with need, my hips rocking as much as the restraints would allow.
“My, my,” Devin’s voice cut through the haze of sensation. “Would you look at that? Our little Andrea is absolutely dripping.”
“Mmm,” Greta hummed in agreement. “I do believe the naughty girl enjoyed her punishment. Just look at how wet she is for Dylan’s cock.”
I buried my face against the ottoman, burning with shame at their crude observations. But I couldn’t deny the truth of their words. My body ached for more of Dylan’s touch, for a fullness only he could provide.
From behind me, I heard again the obscene sounds of enthusiastic oral sex. Lila and Lydia were clearly pleasuring their suitors in real earnest now, their muffled moans mixing with grunts of satisfaction from Hank and Bill.
“That’s it, baby,” I heard Hank growl. “Suck that cock while we watch your friend get fucked.”
“Yeah,” Bill chimed in, his voice rough with arousal. “Show Dylan how eager you are to please him, Andrea. Just like our good girls here.”
Rhythmic sounds from the other side, accompanied with soft almost-snorting breaths that made me think of wild stallions, told me that Ethan and Travis were enjoying the spectacle in their own way.
“You’re a lucky SOB, Dylan,” Ethan said in a voice thick with lust.
“You owe us a few beers at least,” Travis contributed, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.
My mortification at being worth only a few beers faded quickly, only adding to the building of my shameful arousal. Dylan’s fingers continued their maddening exploration, circling my clit before dipping lower to tease at the entrance to my aching sheath. I whimpered and squirmed, desperate for more.
“Please,” I sobbed, beyond caring how pathetic I sounded. “Please, sir… I need…”
“What do you need, sweetheart?” Dylan murmured.
The room fell silent as I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered. My heart raced, knowing what was coming next. I felt Dylan move behind me, positioning himself between my spread thighs.
Then I felt it—the hot, blunt head of his cock pressing against the virgin opening, the place where I needed him, where I needed fucking so very badly. I gasped at the sensation, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and desperate need.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Dylan breathed, his voice low and thick.