Page 47 of His to Enjoy
“Look at these greedy holes,” he murmured, alternating between them, sometimes filling my pussy, sometimes leaving the aching sheath completely empty. The unpredictability of it drove me wild, my hips rolling desperately, seeking more contact, more pressure, anything to relieve the terrible ache that had been building all day.
“Stay still,” he commanded, and I forced my trembling body to obey even as he continued his maddening exploration. His fingers curled inside my pussy, finding the little place that made me cry out, while his other hand moved the plug inward and outward, preparing me for what was to come.
Finally, after what felt like hours but must have been only a few minutes, he stepped away. I heard him open the bag he’d brought, and when he returned, he held something that made my blood run cold.
The whip was smaller than I’d expected, maybe eight inches long with multiple thin leather tails. The handle was wrapped in black leather, elegant and terrifying. He held it up, letting me see it properly.
“This is designed specifically for pussy-whipping,” he explained, his tone conversational despite the subject matter. “The tails are soft enough not to cause damage, but firm enough to createintense sensation. Each strike will feel like fire across that naughty cunt of yours.”
My whole body shook as he brought the whip close to my face. “Kiss it,” he commanded. “Show proper respect for the instrument of your correction.”
I lifted my head slightly, my lips trembling as they made contact with the leather tails. They smelled of oil and something else, something that might have been the lingering scent of other women who’d been punished with this very tool. The thought made me clench involuntarily as I remembered Melissa’s degrading ride atop my face
“Good girl,” Scott said, pulling the whip away. “Now, you’re going to count each lash and thank me for it. If you lose count, we start over. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The first strike came without warning, the leather tails landing directly across my spread pussy lips. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, nothing like the thudding impact of a spanking. This was sharp, stinging, setting every nerve ending on fire. I writhed over his bed, my back arching, then my hips thrusting uncontrollably, as if offering my pussy for another lash—the very furthest thing from my mind.
“One!” I screamed. “Thank you, sir!”
The second strike followed immediately, slightly lower, catching the entrance to my vagina. “Two! Thank you, sir!”
By the fifth strike, I was screaming and sobbing, my legs shaking so hard I could barely hold position. The whip found my clit onthe seventh strike, and I nearly came from the intensity of it, pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn’t separate them.
“Ten! Thank you, sir!” I wailed as the final strike landed, my entire pussy feeling like it was on fire.
“Turn over,” Scott commanded immediately. “On your knees, chest down.”
I scrambled to obey, my whipped pussy throbbing as I turned over. The position he wanted was clear—face pressed into the mattress, bottom raised high, back arched to present myself completely. My hands clutched at the sheets as Scott moved behind me, his fingers gripping my hips to adjust my angle.
“Higher,” he commanded, and I pushed my bottom up further, feeling the plug shift inside me. The vulnerability of the position, combined with the lingering fire across my pussy, made me sob into the expensive sheets.
His hands spread my cheeks wide, exposing the base of the plug. “Such a pretty sight,” he murmured, twisting it slightly, making me sob. “But I think you need something bigger now, don’t you?”
“Please, sir,” I whimpered. I didn’t even try to figure out what I meant: the ambiguity itself seemed to come from my very bones.
He pulled the plug out slowly, as I whimpered and tried to push in that mortifying way, attempting to make it easier on myself despite the way that also made it easier for my master to use me in the most humiliating possible way. With a shameful sound, Scott had it free of the little ring, and I gasped at the strange emptiness it left behind. To my distress I could feel myself gaping slightly, my bottom unable to close completely after hours of being held open. The humiliation of it made fresh tears spill down my cheeks.
“Perfect,” Scott said, and I heard him undoing his belt. “You’re nice and ready for me now.”
Without any additional preparation, he pressed the head of his cock against my exposed hole. The size difference from the plug was immediately apparent—he was so much thicker, so much more demanding. He pushed forward relentlessly, and I screamed into the mattress as he breached me.
“That’s it,” he growled, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Take it all like the fuck toy you are.”
He didn’t give me time to adjust, didn’t ease into it at all. This was punishment, pure and simple. I had humped my desk, had tried to make my pussy feel good against my master’s wishes, and now I was reaping my terrible reward.
Scott fucked my bottom with brutal intensity, each thrust driving so deep I thought I might split apart. The burning stretch combined with my whipped pussy created a mélange of sensation that had me sobbing uncontrollably.
“This is what happens to naughty girls who can’t control themselves,” he said, punctuating each word with a particularly harsh thrust. “They get their asses fucked until they remember who owns them.”
My hands twisted in the sheets, my whole body rocking with the force of his use. I could hear the obscene sounds of it—the slap of his hips against my punished flesh, the wet noise of his cock pistoning in and out of my thoroughly claimed bottom. The degradation, the complete loss of control, sent me spiraling into that strange space where I’d been all day.
I floated above myself again, watching this young woman—me—being used as thoroughly as a powerful man could use a naughtygirl. But this time, instead of detachment, I felt a profound sense of recognition. Scott wasn’t following a script or playing a role. He was taking what was his.
CHAPTER 25
Scott
