Assigned a Guardian by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Kayla opened a chat window with Melanie.

Ugh, I have to go to anal sex class!

Giggle… The girls I know who have taken that class all kind of liked it.

But it’s going to hurt, isn’t it?

Kayla found that in a certain way she wanted to dislike the notion of anal class much more than she actually did dislike it.

Well… They say that it does hurt a little bit at first, but that it hurts in a good way, if you know what I mean?

On the ride into the city center, Kayla said to Patrick, “Thank you for not making me wear my diaper, sir.” Patrick had put her back in panties the day before.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said. “You earned it. You’ve been very good. Even about the dating, and this class.”

He had broken the news to her two nights before.

“It’s time to pick a guy to go for coffee,” he had said, as they sat in the living room after dinner. Kayla was in his lap, which was something that had come about the evening before, when Patrick had extended his hands to her, unexpectedly, when she had come in expecting to sit on the floor and color. She had taken his hands and, together with Mr. Fuzzy, she had settled into Patrick’s lap in the big comfy chair, where she had been spanked that one time but not again.

The news that she would have to start the courtship process again was not unexpected, and it wasn’t even truly unwelcome—at least, not the way it had been unwelcome when Joe had been her guardian. Kayla did feel now that she wanted to try to find her way as a Draconian woman. She would never be fond of the Basic Law, but she felt willing to accept that she would have to live under it.

And then, of course, there was the matter of how incredibly horny she seemed to be all the time. The diaper discipline had, to her shock, seemed to kick her sex drive up more notches than it had ever been kicked. But the unpleasant part of her reaction to Patrick’s news came from a source she refused to examine closely: at least at this moment, she didn’t even want to ask herself whether her feelings about Patrick could be related to the arousal she felt when he diapered her.

On one level, Kayla knew that she was being absurd even to pretend that the man she wanted to date wasn’t Patrick McDowell. But when she explored her heart in that particular direction the strength of her feelings, and their complexity—their relationship to her father, and to Lourcy industries, and to the Earth she would never see again—made her shy away and think about something else, Like how to color the perfect tree, or, more often, how to write an essay that would bring advancement in the economics research program.

She had picked, for her first coffee date, a man named Robert, who was a widower from the first generation.

“Why him?” Patrick asked with gentle curiosity.

“Because he remembers Earth?” Kayla said, not completely sure herself. “Anyway, you said that I should pick someone I didn’t think would be threatening. He seems like a daddy type, I guess.”

Patrick had smiled, and in his eyes Kayla had seen a certain degree of satisfaction that she, who on Earth would never have dated a paternal-seeming man, wanted to start with this older guy here on Draco, now that her special program with Patrick had taken effect.

He had squeezed her in his arms as she sat on his lap, and she had, as she often did, had a little moment of surprise at how natural it felt to be naked except for a diaper and a teddy bear in Patrick McDowell’s lap.

The date would be tomorrow, and Kayla sort of looked forward to it, she realized as Patrick drove her into town for the 1A training. First, though, there was this humiliating, shamefully arousing, class.

To Kayla’s surprise, it was not Marjorie who taught the class: it was her assistant Sandra—and Sandra’s husband, George. When Marjorie entered, Sandra and George were already naked, and the other 1As—Marjorie recognized Joanne and Susan from her first class, and there were five other women she hadn’t seen before—were getting out of their clothes.

“Welcome, Kayla,” said Sandra warmly. “This is my husband George. You can go ahead and take off your clothes.” Then she returned to sucking her husband’s cock, which was what she had been doing when Kayla walked through the door. George, well-muscled and tall, with curly blond hair, stood in profile at the other end of the room, and Sandra knelt before him.

There was nearly complete quiet in the room, except for the soft sounds of rayon dresses being dropped against the wall, and a strange, wet sound that Kayla realized was coming from Sandra’s mouth, as her husband pumped his hips and drove deep inside her there.

“That’s it, baby,” George said. “That’s it. Back of your throat, now. There we go.”

The first to arrive were sitting cross-legged, in the beginnings of a semi-circle. Kayla went to sit next to Joanne, whose pussy, she couldn’t help noticing, was now bare like Kayla’s own.

“Hi,” Joanne whispered. “Missed you.”

Kayla couldn’t believe how happy it made her feel to have been missed. Suddenly she felt a bond with Joanne she hadn’t imagined she could feel—Jupiter girls, and 1As, and now having to take this horribly embarrassing class.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, feeling little tears rise to her eyes. “I’ve missed being here with all of you.” She had thought she didn’t really mean it—but then she understood that she did. They had to stick together now, here on Draco.

Suddenly George said, “Okay, baby, I’m ready.”

He pulled his enormous cock out of her mouth. She looked up at him, and the expression in her eyes was so worshipful that it made Kayla blush. “Are you gonna put that big cock in my ass, sir?” she asked. The question was clearly rhetorical, but George clearly loved it when his wife talked dirty to him, and his eyes fairly sparkled.

“Is that how you like it, you little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” Sandra said meekly.

Then, not rising from her knees, she turned to the class. “Okay, girls, the best way to introduce you to the topic of this class is just to show you how it works, to reassure you about some things, and to get you hot and bothered about others. Then George is going to leave us girls alone, after he’s fucked me good and properly up my bottom, and we’re going to discuss and demonstrate some ways to get ready, and some things to think about. Any questions before I let my stud have his way?”

Susan raised her hand. “Does George make house calls?”

Sandra laughed, as did the rest of the class. “Susan, I promise if you study hard, you’ll find your own stud won’t be able to leave your backside alone.” The laughter grew, and then Sandra returned her eyes to George, looming above her, slowly rubbing his own hard length, slick from his wife’s mouth, to keep himself ready.

Part of Kayla saw the whole strange situation through her old Earth eyes, with horror and embarrassment. Although she had never thought of herself as repressed, the frankness of the dirty talk pushed hard against the boundaries of her comfort zone. At the same time, though, the new Draconian part of her laughed along, and even—no, she couldn’t, but her body wanted it, wanted him to… she tried to press back the thought, with its breathtakingly exciting image, of Patrick putting her on her knees on his bed, facing the headboard, and telling her to put her face in the covers, so that…

Sandra had lain down on her side, with a special cushion to support her, over which she had draped herself, and George had lain behind her. Sandra reached down with a lube-covered hand and got him ready, while he whispered in her ear. Kayla could tell—she could just tell—that he was talking dirty… talking dirty for his wife’s ear alone, about how bad a girl she was, about how she needed his cock in her bottom.

Envy and arousal filled Kayla in equal measure, like an irresistible tide, rising and rising until she thought it would engulf her utterly. The thought could no longer be shut out: she loved Patrick. She wanted Patrick to do that to her, what George was doing to Sandra, entering her gently where a cock by rights shouldn’t go, except for that one overriding right—the right of a dominant man to put his cock where he pleased in the body of the submissive girl who loved him.

Kayla looked at the other students, the naked girls in a semi-circle, all watching with wide-eyed looks of fascination and—Kayla felt her face go red—lust.

“Go ahead and play with yourselves if you like, girls,” George said, not breaking his rhythm inside his wife’s bottom. Four or five girls did, and Kayla frankly envied them, because she felt such a craving to do the same that she thought she might faint.

After a few minutes in their affectionate spooning position, at George’s command Sandra assumed the position that Kayla had seen in her vision of herself and Patrick. The cushion was rearranged, and Sandra went over it, face down and bottom up, over spread knees.

“Get that face down, baby,” George said. Kayla heard a whimper come from her chest at the sound of the words.

He lubed himself again, and lost no time in entering her again as she cried out. Her sounds in the first position had been soft, loving coos, but now she was screaming with an ambiguous kind of pleasure—and Kayla had no doubt at all that it was pleasure, though she also had no doubt at all that it hurt, too.

And that Sandra wanted it to hurt, just as Kayla suddenly knew she wanted Patrick to hurt her, with his cock in her backside that way. George rode his wife’s rump hard, gripping her hips and driving her cheek into the blue gym mat over which they fucked.

At last, just as Kayla felt that she would go ahead and touch herself between her legs, because now almost all the others were, George grunted, and his hips spasmed into his wife’s bottom. He held himself deep as Sandra moaned. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured.

“Thank you, baby,” George responded gently. He withdrew carefully, and then he turned to the class, unashamed. “Have fun, girls,” he said. “It doesn’t help directly with the birthrate, of course, but I promise that knowing that my baby’s ass is waiting helps me do my duty in her pussy first.”

Kayla thought she heard at least one aroused whimper at those words, and George smiled. He laid an affectionate hand on Sandra’s rear end. “See you at home, baby,” he said.

After he left, Sandra rose slowly and excused herself for a few moments to wash up. Then she came to sit in front of them.

“Questions?” she said simply.

“How much did it hurt your first time?’ a second-gen asked.

Sandra smiled. “Not very much. But let’s be honest. Is there anyone here who’s not hoping it will hurt?”

No one raised her hand.

After that came the butt plugs. Sandra brought out a box with enough blue bio-plastic plugs to go around, all of them rounded and tapered. The girls partnered up, and half of them went over cushions. Kayla partnered with Joanne.

Joanne said, before Kayla went over the cushion, “Kayla, I’m so sorry. We all know you don’t like it here.”

Kayla smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’m starting to like it better.”

“But… I mean, this class… And now I have to put this… there.”

“Hey,” Kayla said. “I’m a 1A, right? They didn’t get that wrong.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a little turned on right now.”

Joanne laughed and said, “Alright, then get your backside nice and high for me.”

Kayla did, and with the help of patience and lube, Joanne put the little bio-plastic plug in Kayla’s bottom. Meanwhile, Sandra encouraged them, telling them to visualize the muscles involved, and to remember that their bottoms were made to open, though they were also made to stay nice and tight.

After Kayla and the rest of the first group had their plugs in, everyone changed places, and Kayla got to lube an identical plug and push gently until Joanne took it inside. It felt very funny, of course, to do that to another girl, and it made Kayla a little lightheaded to see Joanne’s bare pussy glistening with arousal and to smell that arousal, too. But the ways of Draconian life seemed less foreign every day, and many of those ways—despite the atavism of the Basic Law—felt compellingly progressive to Kayla. To put a plug in a friend’s bottom, in pursuit of a fuller understanding of their undeniable erotic natures, didn’t seem to cross the lines Kayla was sure it would have crossed for her back on Earth.

No, what felt stranger to Kayla, having just realized she was in love with Patrick, was how she couldn’t stop wondering if Patrick would like to see her with her butt plug.

“Alright, girls,” Sandra said. “I want you to face outwards, so that you’re looking at the walls, on your knees with your faces down; the same position George told me to get into. This is the classic position of submission. As a 1A, you have it ingrained in your fantasy life already, almost certainly.”

Kayla blushed, thinking about what Patrick would think if he had the view of her bottom with her butt plug in it that Sandra did.

“The reason that this class comes right after basic training for 1As,” Sandra continued, “is so that you can think hard about how you feel right now. I’ll put it very simply: you have a need to be claimed by a man’s cock right where you have that butt plug. As George said, with regard to keeping the birthrate up, that presents a paradox. So to finish our class, I want to share with you something Senior Matron Leary said in this same class, when I took it a few years ago and she taught it. She said, ‘The man who comes in your backside wants all of you. He’s not going to be content unless he puts a lot of babies in your belly, too.’”

Titters ran through the oddly arrayed class at that.

Sandra said, “Okay, girls. You’re free to go. You may keep those plugs and take them home to practice with. Just remember to use proper hygiene, and don’t spare the lube!”

“Can we wear them out?” Kayla thought it was Susan’s voice who asked the same question Kayla had, but felt too shy to ask.

Sandra laughed. “Yes, you may wear them out.”

Kayla, too, decided to wear her own plug out, under her big-girl panties.

“You have a funny expression on your face,” said Patrick when Kayla came to find him in the admin café.

Kayla bent down to whisper in his ear, where he sat with his coffee. “I have a butt plug in my bottom, sir.”

 

Kayla seemed distant in the car on the way home through the tree-lined streets of Zones 1 and 2, despite the revelation about the butt plug, which had taken Patrick completely by surprise—if not in its content (since he had rather assumed that butt plugs would be part of the class in anal eroticism), certainly in its confidential, mock-innocent, half-salacious manner. Kayla had whispered the information as if she hoped it would have a lewd effect on her guardian.

So all the way back to his house, while Kayla looked out the window, Patrick tried to decide whether he should say what he had instantly wanted to say, when he heard about the plug. What he wanted to do definitely lay within his right as Kayla’s guardian, but it also seemed to him that it might put things on a footing that could present serious awkwardness unless he talked it over with Kayla. But to start that conversation from scratch would quite possibly ruin the moment that still seemed to hang between them—the moment of strange, unlimited potential that had hovered in the air since she whispered to him that she had a butt plug in her bottom.

He pulled into the driveway, they got out of the car, and walked to the door. Just as he was about to reach for the doorknob, Patrick made up his mind and turned to Kayla, who took an alarmed step back as he jolted her out of her reverie with what he was sure was the fierce look on his face.

“When we get inside,” he said, “you’re going to take off all your clothes and lie on your tummy on the bed. I need to get a look at that butt plug.”

A smile broke out on Kayla’s face. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I hoped you might want to.”

Five minutes later, his heart pounding in his ears, he walked toward Kayla’s room. She had left the door open, so as he approached, because of the way her bed was positioned, he had the view he wanted—the view he had been so hard about from the moment Kayla whispered in his ear. Kayla Lourcy’s shapely little bottom raised and offered. A blue dot, the flared end of the plug, growing as Patrick approached. The barest hint of her sweet pussy below, getting more definite as Patrick came closer.

He reached the end of her bed and stood looking down at the most arousing sight he had ever seen. Pink and white, little and naughty, golden-haired Kayla. Kayla, with her face turned away toward the wall, as if to let him have his eyes’ fill. His charge, his 1A, who had just learned to wear a butt plug and seemed to love it.

“Do you want to touch it?” Kayla whispered to the wall. “I’d like you to touch it, sir. If you want to.”

Patrick cleared his throat and reached his hand down. He had spanked this bottom, he told himself. He had waxed away the cute little hairs that had used to grow right next to where the blue plastic now emerged. Somehow though, it felt like something irrevocable would occur if—or when—his fingers came into contact with the plug and with the silky pink-white skin of Kayla’s round little bottom cheeks.

He stopped his hand, just for a moment, just to make it last, and said, “Kayla, I think if I touch this plug, it’s going to mean something new.”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding her cheek against the rayon coverlet. Rayon, the fabric of Draconian life, Patrick thought with a smile.

“Should we talk about it?” Patrick asked very softly.

“Can we talk later, Patrick?”

Patrick smiled. “Yes, but you should probably know one thing, before I touch the plug.”

“What?”

“I love you, Kayla.”

Though she had her head turned away, her smile was so wide that he could see it anyway. “I love you, too, sir,” she said.

He touched the plug lightly, then, but even that light touch, perhaps combined with the words they had just spoken, made Kayla whimper.

Then Patrick said, “I’m going to get undressed now, little Kayla. Then—” Could he really say what was in his mind? Before Draco these dominant desires had seemed destined never to be spoken, but now—now they were urgently needed, it seemed. “Then I’m going to fuck you, Kayla Lourcy.”

Kayla moaned, loud and long.

“I’m going to put my cock in your pussy, and we’re going to see what we can do to help the birthrate.”

“Oh, God, Patrick. Yes. Oh, my God.” To his delighted astonishment, Patrick saw Kayla move her hand between her legs and start to touch herself, rub her pussy, frantically and shamefully, crying out at her own touch. He spanked her—one hard spank on her right cheek—as he felt absolutely certain she wanted him to do.

“Get that hand off your little pussy, young lady. I’m in charge of your pleasure, and I will be from now on.”

“Oh, God.” Kayla complied, pulling her hand away, though Patrick saw with a smile that she managed to give her sweet clit just the tiniest wank as she did. She moaned, “Oh, sir… please… now—I need it now. I need your cock so much.”

Patrick dropped his jeans and his briefs, tugged his shirt over his head. Hard as a rock, he took hold of Kayla’s hips and pulled her toward the end of the bed, where he could stand, to get his cock inside her and thrust hard.

He rubbed her pussy, up and down, and she cried out in helpless pleasure.

“Is that nice, little Kayla?” he murmured. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, sir… so much… so much nicer than touching myself.”

Patrick thought of the first inspection, when he had told her to touch herself while she held the mirror.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Kayla,” he confessed. “And…” He brought the head of his cock to where it needed to go. “…this, too.”

Kayla gave a soft, happy cry at the feeling. Patrick held her hips, looking down at the cute blue plug nestling between the cheeks, just above where his cock had begun to enter her. He pushed, and found her tighter than he could ever have imagined.

“Oh, God,” Kayla moaned. “The plug… so… full, sir… fuck me, please…”

Patrick pushed harder, and her arousal made his entry into her velvet pussy so pleasurable that he groaned at the feeling. Kayla giggled. “Am I very tight, sir?” she asked.

“Oh, Kayla… yes… just like a little girl should be.”

She whimpered then at the naughtiness of his words; that cute little noise seemed to set him off, and he couldn’t help starting to thrust in and out, fucking her at last.

He had never imagined, really, that anything could feel as good as it felt to fuck Kayla Lourcy, dominantly, like that. He looked down at her, allowing all his desire for mastery to come out and to center in his thrusting cock. He heard her cry out with the fullness of her plug and her guardian’s big cock, claiming her, harder and harder. He fucked, and fucked, and fucked. Kayla began to whimper, “Thank you, sir. Thank you. Thank you.”

Her gratitude seemed to raise his arousal even higher. Yes, his dominance said. Yes, you should be grateful. My cock is a gift I give you, and soon my seed will—

He started to come, harder than he thought he had ever come. His muscles tightened so much he thought he might lose his balance.

“Play with yourself. Now,” he commanded. “Come for me, little girl.”

And she obeyed, and the sight made Patrick’s orgasm rise even higher: his cock shot his seed deep inside the girl he loved, and somehow the idea that maybe he had made a baby there also increased the pleasure. He would put a child in Kayla’s belly if he wanted; she belonged to him, now.

Just as the spasms left Patrick’s legs, Kayla screamed out her own pleasure, and he felt her pussy contracting around his still-hard cock.

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