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)
“Y-yes, sir,” I whimpered, straining against the restraints that held me in place. Despite my embarrassment at being so exposed in front of everyone, I found myself trying to push back against him, silently begging him to claim me.
Dylan gripped my hips firmly, holding me still. “Easy, Andrea,” he soothed. “Let me take care of you.”
With agonizing slowness, he began to push forward. I felt myself stretching around him, my body struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. The pressure built and built until I thought I would burst.
Then, with a sudden thrust, Dylan broke through my maidenhead. I cried out at the sharp pain, tears springing to my eyes. Dylan stilled, allowing me a moment to adjust.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re doing so well. Just relax for me.”
Gradually, the pain began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fullness. Dylan started to move, withdrawing slightly before pushing back in. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.
“Oh, god,” I sobbed, overcome by the intense sensations. “Dylan… sir… please…”
Dylan’s pace increased, his hips slapping against my whipped bottom with each thrust. The pain of my terrible lesson mingled with the pleasure of being filled. The mix of sensations left me dizzy and gasping.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dylan growled. “Take my cock like a good girl. Show everyone how well you submit to me.”
I moaned shamelessly, no longer caring about the audience watching my defloration. All that mattered was the exquisite feeling of Dylan’s cock stretching and filling me.
For several blissful minutes, Dylan fucked me with steady, powerful strokes. I could feel my inner walls clenching around him, my body greedily trying to pull him deeper.
Just as I felt myself approaching the edge of orgasm, Dylan suddenly stilled. I whimpered in protest, trying to push back against him.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Dylan said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “We’re not done with your lesson.”
He withdrew slowly, leaving me feeling achingly empty. I heard murmurs of approval and appreciation from the watching household members.
“Andrea’s done very well so far this evening,” Dylan announced. “Her cooch is heavenly, I have to say. But I’m going to take her upstairs to her bedroom now, and finish claiming her.”
CHAPTER 24
Andrea
Something about that filthy word—cooch… the objectification, the obscenity… combined with the praise… It sent a thrill of arousal through me stronger than anything I could ever remember. Somehow the pride that rose in my chest, and my mind’s desperate effort to push it down and away, to deny I could ever feel happy that a man had called my cooch ‘heavenly’ seemed to strengthen the spasm of need that took hold of me there.
In my cooch. In my naughty cunt.
I let out a sob of mingled pain, lust, shame… everything. Everything this house had brought into my life. Everything Dylan, the man I loved, represented to me now.
Before I knew it, he had gathered me into his arms and had begun to carry me toward the stairs.
Finish claiming her. He’d said that, hadn’t he? My whole upper body seemed to blush as I put it together, and understood. I felt his hand there, on my bottom, gripping tightly enough to keep me from slipping out of his embrace—and tightly enough that when I realized it, I whimpered at how my suitor’s big, strong hand had reawakened the agony he had brought there with the family strap.
“Dylan?” I whispered as he began to mount the steps. “Sir?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice showing no strain from the effort of carrying me.
“Will we have… you know… our own family… our own family, you know…” I felt my mouth twist to the side as I shied away from actually asking, because I suddenly had absolutely no idea what kind of answer I wanted to hear.
But Dylan already knew me much too well. He knew a girl like me had to be given no choice but to confess her needs.
“I would like to have our own family,” he said, in a low voice full of meaning. “But I think there’s a word you’re not saying, too.”
I swallowed hard as I understood… how he had taken my question at first, about family—really about children. Babies. It almost distracted me from the other question as a warm glow filled me at the idea of Dylan putting a baby inside me, of us raising kids together. I had asked Lila about how that worked in Cato, and she had told me that households with kids operated very differently, though those wives of course submitted to their husbands behind their bedroom doors.
The thought of what I had learned from Lila about family life, though, led me straight back to the original question.
“No, sir,” I breathed. “I… I meant…”
We had almost reached my bedroom door.
“Will we have a family strap?” I finally managed to get out, my face flaming with embarrassment.