Page 51 of His Naughty Girl

“Touch yourself,” he growled. “Show me how good it feels to have my cock in your tight little hole.”

My face burning with shame, I slid my right hand between my legs. The first brush of my fingers against my swollen clit sent a jolt of pleasure through me. I gasped, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of Dylan’s thick shaft stretching my anus and my own fingers on my sensitive flesh.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dylan encouraged. “Rub that naughty clit for me.”

I began to stroke myself in earnest, my fingers gliding easily through my slick folds. The feeling was so different from when I had touched myself that morning. Then, it had been furtive and shameful. Now, with Dylan’s permission—no, his command—it felt deliciously wicked.

My fingers moved faster, circling my clit as Dylan’s pace increased. The burning stretch in my bottom had faded to a dull ache, overshadowed by waves of pleasure radiating from my core.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, my hips rocking between Dylan’s cock and my own hand. “Sir, I’m… I’m going to…”

“Come for me,” Dylan ordered. “Come with my cock in your sweet little butt.”

His crude words pushed me over the edge. I cried out as my orgasm crashed over me, my pussy clenching rhythmically as Dylan continued to pound into my bottom. It felt different from my usual climaxes—deeper somehow, more intense. As if Dylan had granted it to me as a reward for my submission.

Before I could fully recover, I felt another orgasm building. Dylan’s relentless thrusts and my own fingers, still working frantically at my clit, quickly pushed me toward the precipice once more.

“That’s it,” Dylan growled. “Another one. Be a good girl and come for me again.”

I obeyed, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. This climax felt even more submissive than the last, as if Dylan was controlling my pleasure completely. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me as I sobbed Dylan’s name.

“Dylan… sir… Dylan…”

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Dylan fucked me. I came again and again, each orgasm feeling like a gift bestowed upon me for good behavior. My world narrowed to the exquisite sensations of Dylan’s cock stretching me open and my own fingers working my needy flesh.

Finally, I felt Dylan’s rhythm falter. His grip on my hips tightened as he slammed into me one last time and I felt his cock spurting his essence into my newly opened bottom.

Dylan’s weight pressed me into the mattress as he took me in his arms and turned me, so that when he had lain down completely he could wrap my little body up in his big one, the two still connected in that shameful but terribly intimate way. I felt utterly spent, my body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. Slowly, gently, Dylan withdrew from me, leaving me feeling strangely empty.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” Dylan murmured, pressing soft kisses along my shoulder blade. “I’m proud of you.”

His praise washed over me like a soothing balm. I felt myself beginning to float, drifting in a fog of contentment and relief. The sharp edges of shame and fear that had defined my world just hours ago seemed to soften and blur.

Dylan gathered me even deeper into his arms, cradling me against his broad chest. I turned my face so that I could nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. My body felt heavy and languid, as if I were sinking into a warm bath.

“How do you feel?” Dylan asked softly, his fingers combing through my tangled hair.

I considered the question, taking stock of my body. My bottom throbbed, as if refusing to let me forget my punishment and subsequent claiming. But the pain felt different now—less sharp, more… fulfilling, somehow. Like a badge of honor. My newly opened holes ached pleasantly, stretched and used in ways I never could have imagined before coming to Cato.

“Different,” I finally whispered. “Like… like I’m not quite the same person I was this morning.”

Dylan hummed in understanding. “You’re not,” he agreed. “You’ve… I don’t know… it sounds kind of over the top, I guess, but I think you’ve taken an important step in your journey, Andrea. You’re becoming the woman you were always meant to be.”

His words resonated deep within me. I thought back to the girl I had been just weeks ago—defiant, confused, desperately clinging to notions of independence that no longer fit. That person seemed like a faraway stranger.

As we lay tangled together, our breathing slowly synchronizing, that shift seemed to grow even more profound. The world seemed clearer to me somehow, as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. My place in this new life, my role as Dylan’s submissive partner, just felt… right.

Dylan’s hands roamed over my body, his touch soothing and possessive. He seemed to be mapping every inch of me with his gentle touch, as if he wanted to commit me to memory. I melted into his caresses, reveling in the feeling of being cherished and owned.

“You’re mine now,” Dylan murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Completely and utterly mine.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathed, the words feeling like a vow. “Yours.”

CHAPTER 25

Andrea

We lay in comfortable silence for a long while, Dylan’s steady heartbeat lulling me into a state of peaceful contentment. The soreness in my bottom and between my legs served to keep me aware of my new status, but I found myself embracing the discomfort. It grounded me, keeping me present in this moment of transformation.

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