Page 43 of Pretty Plaything
I have stretch marks on my thighs. They’re whitish, but they’re there, ever since I reached adolescence.
I have too many moles in all the wrong places. My mom even considered having a few removed, but my father was against it because he believed something might go wrong and make things even worse, like leaving a scar.
My breasts aren’t symmetrical either. Emilia tried to convince me that’s completely normal, but I don’t think I ever fully believed her.
Not when my mother always tried to adjust my clothes to hide anything that she thought might be taking away from my beauty.
I feel like I’m on trial, and I don’t even know if anyone’s watching me.
If I get lucky, maybe Alessandro will return me to my family.
Something rustles, and I gasp.
“Good morning,” Alessandro says as he removes the blindfold from my eyes.
I meet his gaze, expecting him to say something cruel.
“Slept well?” He grins, tracing his finger down my arm.
I want him to keep touching me.
His hand lowers down my stomach, raising goose bumps of delight on my skin.
“Answer me.” He cups my pussy.
“No.” I shoot him a glare.
“Liar.” He fondles me, and a low moan forms in the back of my throat.
After gripping the spreader bar, he forces my legs up. My muscles protest, but I forget all about it when his fingers graze the base of the plug.
“Let’s get this out,” he says. “For now.”
He wiggles the plug out of me and then releases my ankles. As he unlocks the cuffs around my wrists, his fingers linger on my skin.
I pull my hands away from him, sitting up.
“You may go to the bathroom,” he says.
My knees are a little shaky as I get to my feet. A purple paper bag next to the bed catches my eye. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.
“Take the bag,” he says. “It’s for you.”
I pick up the bag and take a quick glance.
He got me some clothes, I think.
I don’t have time to inspect the contents of the bag closer because I really need to pee, and I want to get away from Alessandro’s consuming gaze.
