Page 25 of Shameful Needs
“Please,” I’d begged, with no idea of what I’d meant. The pain had been exquisite, exactly what my body had been craving during all those months of gentle lovemaking.
“Tell me about him,” Ryan demanded, the whip falling again. “Tell me about the man who trained you to be such a dirty little whore.”
I’d tried to deny it, to maintain the lie, but each strike of the leather broke down my defenses. Eventually the words had poured out of me—everything about Chad, about the way he’d used me, about how I’d loved it despite my proper upbringing.
“Good,” Ryan had said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Now show me what he taught you. I can’t believe I didn’t make you suck my cock on our wedding night the way a bride should do.”
He’d freed my restraints and I’d dropped to my knees eagerly, my mouth opening as he freed his cock from his pants. But this hadn’t been the gentle husband I’d married—the Ryan in my dream was someone harder, more demanding, someone who grabbed my hair and forced me to take him deeper than I’d ever taken anyone before, even Chad.
“That’s it,” he’d growled, using my mouth with even more authority than Chad had shown. “Show me what a good little cocksucker you really are.”
My waking body blazed with need. For a moment I was caught between the dream and reality. My hands moved instinctively toward my aching center, seeking the relief my body craved.
The leather restraints stopped me cold.
I pulled against them frantically, the reality of my situation crashing back. I was still bound, still helpless, still desperate with unfulfilled arousal. The dream had felt so real, so intense, that waking up to find myself denied was almost unbearable.
“Please,” I whispered to the empty room, my voice cracking with frustration. I twisted against the bonds, trying to find some way to bring my hands to where I needed them most, but it was useless.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made me freeze. A moment later, my door opened and Master Paul stepped inside, looking as calm and collected as if a morning visit to a naked, bound woman were a mundane sort of duty.
“Good morning, Heather,” he said, moving to the wall where my restraints were secured. “How did you sleep?”
I couldn’t look at him, my face burning with shame at what I’d been trying to do. “Please,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I need… I need to use the bathroom.”
Master Paul studied me for a long moment, his brown eyes seeming to see right through my desperate excuse. “Of course you do,” he said finally, moving to release my restraints. “Come along.”
The relief of having my arms free was immediate, but my shoulders ached terribly as I tried to move them. I sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness, and wrapped my arms around myself in a futile attempt at modesty.
“Stand up,” Master Paul commanded, his voice carrying that same quiet authority that made my stomach flutter despite everything.
I rose on unsteady legs, my bare feet cold against the linoleum floor. He gestured toward the door, and I walked ahead of him into the hallway, acutely aware of my nakedness and the way my body still burned with unfulfilled arousal.
The bathroom was just a few doors down—a small space with white tiles and bright lighting. I stepped inside, expecting him to close the door and leave me with at least this small privacy. Instead, he followed me in and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Go ahead,” he said simply.
I stared at him, my heart beginning to race. “I… what do you mean?”
“You said you needed to use the bathroom. So use it.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
“But…” I glanced desperately at the door, then back at his impassive face. “You’re not going to leave?”
“No.” He settled more comfortably against the wall. “Heather, you’ve lost the privilege of modesty. You’ve been lying to your husband, to yourself, to everyone around you for months. Until you can prove you’re capable of complete honesty, you won’t be allowed any privacy at all.”
My face burned with humiliation. “I can’t… not with you watching.”
“Don’t be silly.” His tone was dismissive. “Your body has natural functions, Heather. There’s nothing shameful about them. The shame comes from the lies you’ve been telling.”
I pressed my thighs together, the pressure in my bladder becoming impossible to ignore. But the thought of him watching me made my entire body flush with heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Just turn around, or step outside for a minute. I promise I won’t… I won’t touch myself.”
Master Paul shook his head. “Sit down on the toilet, Heather. Now.”
The command in his voice was absolute. My legs moved without conscious thought, carrying me to the toilet where I perched on the edge of the seat, then sat there, trembling with humiliation as Master Paul watched me with those penetrating brown eyes. My bladder ached with desperate need, but thethought of relieving myself while he observed made my entire body flush with mortification.
“I’m waiting,” he said calmly, his arms still crossed over his chest.
