Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I tried to gather my scattered thoughts, acutely aware of every place our bodies touched. “She’s… conflicted. Aroused, but ashamed of it. She knows she shouldn’t want what she’s seeing, but her body is responding anyway.”
“Hmm.” His hand moved slightly higher on my thigh. “And how do you know that’s what she’s feeling?”
The answer stuck in my throat because we both knew exactly how I knew. Because I was feeling the same thing right now—that horrible, wonderful, confusing mix of humiliation and desire that had haunted me throughout my marriage to Jacob and was now threatening to overwhelm me completely.
“Personal experience,” I whispered.
“Good girl,” he said, and those two words sent a shock through me that I felt all the way to my toes. “Honesty is essential in this position.”
His hand continued its slow exploration of my thigh, never quite reaching the top of my stocking, but making me intensely aware of how little separated his fingers from bare skin. On screen, the scene had shifted—Annabelle was now being instructed to undress for her evening bath while her foster parents watched, offering corrections on her posture and movements.
“We’re looking to develop an entire stream around Annabelle,” Scott explained, his professional tone at odds with the intimate position of his hand. “Something that follows her journey from initial training through eventual placement with a husband. Your insights would be invaluable in shaping that narrative.”
His fingers suddenly slipped further up, beneath the hem of my dress, trailing along the inside of my thigh above the stocking. I gasped, my whole body going rigid.
“I need to check something,” he murmured against my ear, his fingers continuing their journey upward until they found the edge of my panties. “Stay very still.”
I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. His fingers pressed against the delicate lace, right over my most intimate place, and I knew he could feel how wet I’d become. The humiliation of it made me want to die, even as my traitorous body responded to his touch with a fresh surge of arousal.
“Just as I thought,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. “Soaking wet. You respond to authority even more strongly than your file suggests.”
He withdrew his hand and shifted me off his lap, setting me on my feet in front of him. My legs trembled, barely holding me upright.
“Take off your dress,” he commanded, leaning back in his chair to watch me.
My hands shook as they moved to the zipper at the back of my dress. This was happening so fast, so much more intensely than anything I’d experienced even in the New Modesty, where quick courtship was encouraged. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me standing before him in nothing but the pink lingerie and heels.
“Turn around,” he instructed. “Slowly.”
I rotated, knowing he was examining every inch of me, evaluating every response. When I faced him again, he beckoned me closer with one finger.
“These need to come off,” he said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties.
I made a small sound of protest that died in my throat as he slowly pulled them down my thighs, over the stockings, letting them fall to my ankles. The air against my exposed flesh made me acutely aware of how wet I was, how my arousal must be visible to him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers trailing over the bareness between my thighs. “You’ve kept yourself perfectly groomed, even after your husband left. That shows real discipline.”
His fingers explored me with terrible precision, finding exactly the spots that made me gasp and tremble. One finger slipped inside my folds, gathering the moisture there, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“So responsive,” he said approvingly. “Turn around now. Bend over and hold your ankles.”
The position was impossibly exposing, worse than anything Sharon had demanded. I bent forward, my hands grasping my ankles, knowing that everything was on display for him. I felt his hands on my bottom, spreading me wider, examining me in a way that made my face burn with shame.
“Such a pretty little hole,” he said, his thumb brushing over my most private place. “Jacob enjoyed you here, I know, but I must say that watching your anal sessions I never thought he was really the right master for you.”
I could barely think straight as his thumb pressed gently against that forbidden entrance. The memory of Jacob’s fingers there flooded back unbidden—quick, perfunctory intrusions meant more to assert dominance than to truly possess. But Scott’s touch was different, deliberate and knowing, as if he understood exactly how deeply this particular violation affected me.
“Please,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was begging him to stop or continue. My legs trembled with the effort of holding the position.
“Stand up,” he commanded, and I straightened gratefully, my muscles already aching from the strain. “Now turn around and kneel here in front of me. You’re going to suck my cock.”