Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Her hand pressed my face even more firmly against her, moved herself to rub her clit against my nose, then released me yet again. “What happened next?”
CHAPTER 17
Anne
I spoke against her, my words muffled and wet. “He said it wouldn’t do. He said he’d bought me a beautiful nightgown and this was what he found.” I licked her, three long strokes. “He said a girl preparing herself for her suitor’s use should have thought about what he’d want to see.”
“More,” Penelope gasped. Her hips had begun to rock in earnest now, grinding against my mouth with increasing urgency. “What else? What words did he use?”
“He called it my…” I swallowed. My face was burning. “My cunt. He said ‘This little cunt is going to be shaved.’”
“Oh, God,” Penelope breathed, and her hand fisted in my hair so hard it hurt. “And then what? After the inspection?”
“He made me kneel,” I said, pulling back just enough for the words to form before pressing my mouth to her again. My tongue found her clit and circled it twice, three times, before I continued. “On the floor. In front of him. He opened his robe and he was… he was so hard. So big. Bigger than anything I’d ever…”
“Tell me,” Penelope demanded, her voice ragged now.
I licked her in long, slow strokes while I gathered the words. “He made me hold it. Both hands. I couldn’t even get my fingers all the way around. And then he told me to… to worship it. He said that’s what the word was. Worship.”
“Mmm.” The sound vibrated through Penelope’s thighs against the sides of my face. “How?”
“He taught me to kiss it,” I whispered against her. “Down the shaft. All the way to his… his balls. He made me take each one in my mouth and suck on them. Gently. He said a girl who worships a cock worships all of it.”
Penelope’s hips jerked. “Christ. Keep going. Keep licking me and keep talking.”
I obeyed. My tongue moved between her tender inner lips while I spoke between strokes, the words tumbling out of me now with less resistance, as if the act of confessing to Penelope while my mouth was on her had opened some valve I couldn’t close.
“And then he made me take him in my mouth again. Deeper. He held my head and he started to… to thrust. Hard. He called my mouth a…” I pressed my face against her and licked her clit in tight, desperate circles. “He called it my face’s cunt. He said it was just another hole for him to use.”
“Oh, fuck,” Penelope breathed. Her hand was shaking in my hair now, and the motion of her hips had become rhythmic and urgent, rocking against my tongue with an abandon that felt almost violent.
“He fucked my face,” I said, and the words came out in a rush, hot and muffled against her swollen flesh. “He held my hair and he just… used me. My jaw was screaming and I was gagging and crying and drooling all over the nightgown and he didn’t stop. He told me I was his good little… his good little cunt-face. He said I was dripping. He could see it through the chiffon.”
Penelope made a sound—half moan, half something more feral—and her thighs clamped against my ears so hard that her voice went muffled for a moment before she released the pressure.
“And when he finished,” I continued, my tongue working faster now, driven by the escalating tension in Penelope’s body, “he pulled out and he… he came on me. All over me. On my face. On the nightgown. The lace. He ruined it. There was so much of it, and it soaked through the fabric and you could see my…” I swallowed against her. “You could see everything through the lace after that. And then he pressed himself against my lips and made me lick him clean.”
“Shut up,” Penelope said.
The words came out sharp and sudden, slicing through the humid, confession-thick air of the office like a blade. Her hand tightened in my hair—not guiding now but gripping, holding my face against her with a force that flattened my nose against her pubic bone and sealed my mouth to her clit.
“Stop talking and make me come,” she growled. “Right now. Hard and fast on my clit. Don’t you dare stop until I tell you to.”
My tongue found the swollen nub and worked it with everything I had—fast, tight circles alternating with the suckling pressure she’d taught me, my lips sealed around her, my jaw aching from the morning’s abuse but moving anyway because Penelope had told me to and because stopping was not something my body seemed capable of anymore.
My hands came up to grip her thighs, steadying myself as her hips bucked against my face with increasing violence, and I held on and licked and sucked and pressed my tongue against her with a desperation that felt less like obedience and more like drowning—like she was the surface and pleasing her was the only way up.