Page 48 of His to Enjoy
I felt my own control slipping as I watched Grace surrender so completely beneath me. The sight of her—face pressed into my sheets, bottom raised high, taking my cock with desperate sobs—stirred something primal that went beyond mere power exchange. Each thrust drew sounds from her that made my chest tighten with an emotion I felt a good deal of reluctance to name, given everything it implied.
“You’re mine,” I growled, the words coming from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. “Every hole, every thought, every time you touch that sweet little cunt—mine.”
“Yes!” she screamed into the mattress, her whole body convulsing. “Yours, sir… oh, God… yours!”
I reached around to find her whipped pussy, my fingers sliding through the wetness there despite the punishment I’d administered. The moment I touched her swollen clit, she came violently, her bottom clenching around me with such force that I had to grip her hips harder to maintain my rhythm.
“Did I give you permission to come?” I asked, though we both knew the question was rhetorical. Her punishment was far from over.
I pulled out suddenly, leaving her gasping at the loss. Before she could process what was happening, I flipped her onto her back again, pushing her knees up to her chest. The sight of her—pussy red and swollen from the whip, bottom gaping from my use—made my cock throb with need.
“Hold yourself open,” I commanded. “Show me what belongs to me.”
Her hands moved immediately to spread herself, tears streaming down her face as she displayed her punished flesh. I positioned myself at her bottom again, but this time I could watch her face as I entered her. The way her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream—it was intoxicating.
I fucked her harder than before, if that was possible, each thrust meant to drive home the lesson. But something had shifted. This wasn’t just about punishment anymore. The way she looked at me, the complete trust mixed with desperate need in her eyes, made something crack in my carefully maintained control.
“Grace,” I said, her name coming out rougher than intended. “My perfect little New Modesty fuck toy.”
She sobbed at the degrading endearment, but her hips pushed back against me, taking me deeper. I could feel my own climax building, the pressure at the base of my spine that signaled I was close. But I needed something more from her first.
“Tell me what you are,” I demanded, my thumb finding her clit again, circling it with just enough pressure to keep her on edge.
“Your fuck toy,” she gasped immediately. “Your personal slut, your property, your—oh God, sir, please?—”
“Please what?”
“Please come inside me,” she begged, her voice breaking. “In my naughty bottom. Please mark me, claim me, fill me with your seed. Teach me to be a good girl for you. I need it, I need you to?—”
“Soon,” I growled, “but not until you show me more.” I pulled my thumb away, and Grace whimpered with frustration. “Play with your cunt,” I commanded. “Make yourself come with my cock in your little ass.”
Grace
Part of me thought I should be confused—that I should maybe even talk back, sass my master about the way he kept contradicting himself.
The rest of me understood at a level that went beyond any logic.
I understood that Scott’s contradictions weren’t contradictions at all. They were tests, challenges, ways of pushing me deeper into submission. When he punished me for coming without permission, then commanded me to make myself come—that wasn’t inconsistency. It was dominance in its purest form. My pleasure existed only at his whim, to be granted or denied as he saw fit.
My fingers moved to my whipped pussy automatically and without hesitation, the first touch making me cry out from the sensitivity I found there. The bare, shaven flesh felt hot, swollen, almost alien under my fingertips. But beneath the soreness lay that terrible, wonderful ache that only grew stronger when Scott thrust so deep into my bottom that I thought I might feel the effects of his possession for weeks.
“Look at me while you do it,” he commanded, and I forced my eyes open to meet his gaze. The intensity there made my breath catch. This wasn’t the controlled, professional Scott from the office. This was something rawer, more honest. His face was hard with unconcealed aggression, his eyes narrow and his jaw set in a way that struck me almost as cruel as he maintained the brutal rhythm of his thrusting tool while watching me pleasure myself.
I circled my clit with trembling fingers, each touch sending sparks through my oversensitive flesh. The excess of sensation—his cock stretching my bottom, my own fingers on my punished pussy—created a feedback loop that had me spinning toward climax within moments.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Scott demanded, his hands gripping behind my knees to keep me spread much too wide. “Right now. Don’t filter it.”
“I’m thinking…” I gasped, my fingers moving faster despite the burning sensation. “I’m thinking that I’ve never felt more like myself than right now. That those years before… even… even on NMB… were just… rehearsal. That this is what I was made for—to be used like this, to be yours, to be—oh, God?—”
“Continue,” he growled when I broke off, my body starting to tense with approaching orgasm.
“To be nothing but holes for you to fuck,” I sobbed, the words pouring out though I could barely form them through the overwhelming sensations. Something deep inside me needed to confess this truth, though.
“To be… to be trained,” I wept. “M-made… made into exactly what my m-master wants.”
My fingers pressed harder against my swollen clit, and I felt myself approaching the edge. Scott’s cock in my anus seemed to swell even larger, if that was possible, and I knew he was close too.
“I… I th-think about you… I think about you… constantly,” I continued, my voice rising with desperation as my hips jerked uncontrollably under Scott’s. “When I… I wake up… when I’m w-working… when I’m trying… trying to… to sleep. Your hands on me… your big, beautiful c-cock in me… oh… oh, God… y-your voice telling me what to… to do.”
