My legs trembled as I obeyed, pushing my own chair back and rising on shaking knees. The few steps to where he sat felt like miles. When I stood in front of him, he looked up at me with those dark eyes, and I felt pinned in place, unable to move or look away.
“I’m going to take down your panties,” he said matter-of-factly, “and inspect your pussy and your bottom. Then I’m going to spank you over my knee. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I managed, my voice coming out as a tiny whisper.
“Good. Now lift your skirt for me.”
My hands moved to the hem of my dress, my fingers clumsy as I gathered the red fabric and raised it slowly. The air felt cool against my bare thighs as I exposed the pretty white lace panties Selecta had provided with their terrible blend of innocence and lasciviousness. I held the dress bunched at my waist, my face burning so hot I thought I might actually combust.
Mike’s hand reached out, and I flinched slightly as his fingers made contact with the lace covering my hip. But his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he stroked the delicate fabric.
“These are lovely,” he murmured, his palm sliding over the curve of my bottom through the panties. “Very pretty on you.”
His hand moved in slow circles, caressing me through the lace, and I had to bite my lip to keep from whimpering. The touch was so light, so deliberate, and it went on for what felt like forever. My legs began to tremble harder, and I wasn’t sure if it was from holding still or from the sensation of his hand on me.
Finally, his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties. I felt him tug them down slowly, the fabric sliding over my hips, down my thighs, until they rested just above my knees. The exposure made me gasp—I was bare from the waist down in front of him, my dress still bunched in my fists at my hips.
Mike leaned forward slightly, and I felt his gaze on my most intimate place. The seal. I couldn’t see his expression from this angle, but I could feel the weight of his attention, the way he studied what they’d done to me.
Then his hand was there, touching me so gently I almost sobbed. His fingers traced the line where my outer lips had been pressed together, exploring the unnatural closure with what felt like a distressing degree of curiosity. The touch sent sparks of frustrated need through my core, and I felt more of my treasonous arousal pool near the tiny opening at the bottom.
“Turn around,” he said quietly.
I shuffled in place, my panties restricting my movement, until I faced away from him. My hands still clutched my dress at my waist, holding the skirt high, offering my bare bottom to the man who had paid so handsomely for the privilege of looking at it.
I could sense Mike looking closely at my whipped cheeks, studying the marks that Hank the orderly had left with that awful cane. The welts had faded somewhat over the past couple days, but I knew they were still visible—six parallel lines of reddened flesh across the fullest part of my bottom cheeks.
“These marks are very pretty,” Mike said, and his tone held genuine appreciation that made my stomach clench with mortification. “They suit you.”
My face burned hotter. How could he say that? How could he think the evidence of my punishment was pretty? But even as shame flooded through me, I felt my sealed pussy clench hard, trying desperately to find sensation that didn’t exist.
Then, to my absolute horror, I felt Mike’s hands on my bottom cheeks. His fingers gripped gently, and he pulled them apart, spreading me open. Cool air kissed the most private place on my body—the place Nurse Samuels had examined with that horrible speculum.
“And this,” Mike murmured, his voice warm with what sounded like affection, “is absolutely adorable.”
I wanted to die. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. He was looking at my anus, calling it adorable like it was something precious rather than the most mortifying part of my anatomy to have exposed to a man I’d met only hours ago.
The words burst out of me before I could stop them. “Are you going to unseal me?” My voice came out high and desperate. “Are you going to… to deflower me tonight?”
Mike’s hands stilled on my bottom, and I felt him release me, letting my cheeks fall back together. He turned me around gently, his hands on my hips, until I faced him again. His dark eyes held mine, and something in his expression made my breath catch.
“I have the solvent in my pocket,” he said, and my heart leaped with desperate hope. “But I’m going to wait to fuck you, sweetheart.”
Shameful, unforgivable disappointment hit me so hard it brought a new wave of embarrassed heat to my face. “What? But I thought—”
“If you’re a good girl,” he continued, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone that made my knees weak, “there will be a reward for you tonight. In addition to the training I’m going to give you.” His fingers traced idle patterns on my hip under my bunched dress. “Training to help you please me more and more as you learn to serve a man properly.”
The words sent a confusing mixture of relief and frustration through me. He wasn’t going to take my virginity tonight. I should have been grateful, should have felt safer knowing he was willing to wait. But instead, all I could focus on was the terrible, aching need between my legs and the knowledge that he could relieve it, but was choosing not to.
As if my body wanted to betray me further, I felt wetness begin to trickle, definitely trickle, from inside to outside, out of the tiny opening at the bottom of my sealed labia. It didn’t stop. I felt it sliding down the inside of my thighs, leaving a cool trail against my skin that made my mortification complete. I couldn’t hide it, couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything but stand there with my dress bunched at my waist and my panties around my knees while evidence of my desperate need literally dripped down my legs.
I could almost sense Mike’s eyes tracking the humiliating little stream. I could almost see his expression shift into something darker, more intense. “I appreciate,” he said slowly, his voice thick with what I could only describe as hunger, “how badly you obviously need to have your pussy opened on a man’s hard cock.”
Before I could process the words, before I could even draw breath to respond, Mike’s hands gripped my waist and he lifted me bodily. The world spun as he upended me over his left knee, and I let out a startled yelp as I found myself suddenly horizontal, my bottom raised, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the floor.
Then his right leg came down hard over the backs of both my knees, pinning my legs together, trapping me completely. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t escape. I was held fast over his left knee with my bare bottom presented for punishment.
The first spank landed like a thunderclap.
Pain exploded across my right cheek, so sharp and intense that I cried out. Before I could even process it, his hand came down on the left side. Then the right again. Then the left. Over and over, a relentless rhythm that built into a crescendo of burning agony.
He didn’t count. Didn’t say anything at all. Just spanked and spanked and spanked until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but sob and gasp and try desperately to squirm away from his punishing hand.
But I couldn’t move. His leg held my knees pinned, and his left arm pressed against my back, keeping me in place. All I could do was take it, each impact sending fresh waves of fire through my bottom.
“Please,” I gasped out between sobs. “Please, I’m sorry, please stop—”
The spanking continued without pause. My bottom felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming in protest. The welts from the caning had re-ignited instantly, the fresh spanking overlaying the old punishment until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Please!” I was begging now, my voice breaking into desperate sobs. “Sir, please, I can’t—”
“The first thing you need to learn,” Mike said, his voice calm and measured even as his hand continued its relentless assault on my burning bottom, “is that your sponsor will decide when you’ve had enough punishment.”
The words penetrated through my haze of pain and desperation. He would decide. Not me. I didn’t get to say when it was enough. I didn’t get to control this. All I could do was surrender to it. The spanking went on until I was screaming. Not crying anymore, not begging—just screaming, raw sounds torn from my throat that I couldn’t control. And then, suddenly, it stopped.
Mike’s hand settled on my burning bottom, and instead of striking, he began to rub. Gentle circles that should have soothed, but instead sent sparks of an entirely different sensation through me. My body went rigid over his lap, and I felt myself clench—clench harder than I’d ever clenched in my life.
Oh, god. Oh, god, I was close. I was actually close to coming.
“That’s it,” Mike murmured, his palm massaging my punished flesh with maddening tenderness. Then his hand lifted and came down again—not as hard as before, but firm enough to make me gasp. He alternated between fondling and spanking, each gentle caress followed by a sharp smack that made my whole body jolt.
“I understand how much trouble you’ve been having,” he said, his voice low and knowing, “reaching orgasm with your pussy sealed like that.”
A whimper escaped my throat. He knew. Of course he knew. He’d watched me try desperately to get relief, had probably seen all the biometric data showing my failed attempts.
“I’m going to teach you to come this way.” His hand slid down between my clenched thighs, and I felt his fingers press against the place where my legs met. “Squeeze your thighs together for me, sweetheart. Flex your core.”
I obeyed without thinking, clamping my thighs tight around his hand and engaging every muscle in my belly and pelvis. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming—I was right there, teetering on the very edge, so close I could barely breathe.
Then his hand withdrew.
“No—” I started to protest, but his palm came down hard on my bottom, once, twice, three times in rapid succession.
“Come for me,” he commanded, and his hand struck again.
The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I screamed—actually screamed in pleasure rather than pain—as ecstasy crashed through every nerve in my body. My sealed pussy clenched violently, trying to contract around nothing, and somehow that made it more intense, not less. The spanking continued through it all, each impact sending fresh shockwaves of sensation radiating outward from my burning bottom.
I’d never felt anything like it. My previous orgasms—as many as they had been, coaxed from my body with careful touches in the privacy of my dorm room—had been pleasant releases, gentle waves. This was a tsunami. This was my body turning inside out, every muscle contracting at once, my vision going white as I convulsed over Mike’s lap.
When it finally subsided, I was sobbing again—but not from pain. From the sheer overwhelming intensity of what had just happened. My bottom throbbed with heat and my thighs were slick with the evidence of my need.
Mike kept his hand on my burning bottom, rubbing gentle circles that made me shudder with aftershocks. I lay draped over his lap, boneless and trembling, my face wet with tears and my breath coming in ragged gasps. His palm moved in soothing strokes, and I felt myself start to come back to earth, back to awareness of where I was and what had just happened.
“Shhh,” he murmured, his other hand stroking my hair. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”
The praise made something warm bloom in my chest even as my bottom throbbed with heat. I’d never felt so thoroughly undone, so completely vulnerable. My dress was still bunched at my waist, my panties still around my knees, and I was draped over the knee of a man I’d met for the first time this afternoon. A man who’d just spanked me until I screamed and then made me come harder than I’d ever come in my life.
We stayed like that for several minutes, his hand moving in those gentle, soothing circles while I caught my breath. Finally, when my sobs had quieted to occasional hiccups, he spoke.
“Laura,” he said, his voice low and measured, “it’s time for you to learn to thank your sponsor for the discipline and pleasure he gives you.”
My stomach flipped. Butterflies—no, more like a whole swarm of moths—filled my belly. I knew what he meant. I knew, but I needed to hear him say it. Needed to make him spell it out.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice small and shaky.
His hand stilled on my bottom. “I think you know exactly what I mean, sweetheart.”
I did. God help me, I did. My face burned even hotter than my spanked bottom, and I felt fresh wetness trickle from the seal between my legs.
“You’re going to kneel in front of me,” Mike said, his tone quiet but absolutely firm, leaving no room for negotiation. “You’re going to take my cock out of my pants. And you’re going to suck it until I come.”
Each of his words landed with devastating precision. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my sealed pussy clench hard.
“You’re going to learn to swallow every drop of my seed,” he continued, and I could hear something dark and hungry in his voice now. “Do you understand?”
“I… I don’t know how,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ve never—”
“I know you haven’t.” His hand resumed its gentle stroking of my punished flesh. “I’m going to teach you how to please me. I’m going to teach you how to worship a man’s penis properly, and I’m going to teach you to take my cock deep when I decide to hold your head still and fuck your face.”
The crude words—fuck your face—sent a jolt of mortification through me so intense I thought I might actually die of shame right there over his lap. But underneath the mortification, that terrible heat was building again. The thought of kneeling before him, of taking his cock in my mouth, of being taught how to service him—it made my sealed pussy throb with renewed need. What was wrong with me? Why did the most degrading things make me feel this way?
“Stand up,” Mike said, and his leg lifted from the backs of my knees, releasing me.
I pushed myself up on trembling arms, my bottom on fire, my face wet with tears. My panties were still around my knees, and I had to shuffle awkwardly to get my balance. Mike’s hands steadied me at the waist.
“Take off your dress,” he said, his voice still gentle but with that unmistakable note of command beneath it.
My hands shook as I reached for the hem, bunching the red fabric in my fists. I pulled it up over my head, my arms trembling so badly I nearly got tangled in the material. When I finally freed myself, I stood there in just the white lace bra and my panties still tangled around my knees.
“Your breasts look very pretty in that bra,” Mike said, and the warmth in his voice made my stomach flutter despite everything. “Leave your panties exactly where they are. I love the sight of a girl sucking cock with her panties down around her knees.”
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t make myself meet those dark eyes that saw too much, knew too much. My gaze fixed on the floor, on my flats, with my panties stretched between my knees, and I felt tears starting at the corners of my eyes. The humiliation was overwhelming—standing here nearly naked, my bottom still burning from the spanking, about to kneel before him and do something I’d hardly even imagined doing for some hypothetical someday husband.
But my vagina clenched hard beneath the seal, and without thinking I squeezed my thighs and my core the way Mike had just taught me. The sensation shot through me like lightning, and I realized with dawning horror that I could come again this way. Just from the lingering soreness of the spanking and the thought of having to kneel before the man who owned my body for all intents and purposes.
“Kneel down between my thighs,” Mike said, spreading his legs wider where he sat. “Open my zipper.”
The room spun as I shuffled forward, my panties restricting my steps. I lowered myself carefully to my knees on the hardwood floor, the position making my burning bottom throb with fresh pain. My hands reached out, trembling so badly I could barely control them, and found the tab of his zipper.
The sound it made as I pulled it down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet apartment. Inside, I could see black y-fronts, expensive-looking fabric that did nothing to hide the huge, hard thing stirring beneath. My breath caught in my throat. I was scared and fascinated and aroused all at once, my sealed pussy clenching rhythmically as I stared at the evidence of his arousal.
“Take it out through the opening in my briefs,” Mike instructed, his voice patient but firm. “Go on, sweetheart. Touch it.”
I whimpered as my fingers found the opening in the soft cotton, trembling as they made contact with hot, rigid flesh. I’d never touched a cock before—had never even seen one in person—and the reality of it was so much more intense than I’d imagined. I wrapped my fingers around the thick shaft and pulled it free, and then I gasped.
It stood up in front of my face, impossibly large, the head flaring wide and dark. My mouth fell open as I stared at it, my mind going blank with a mixture of terror and fascination.
“It’s too big,” I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My free hand flew between my legs, pressing against the seal as if I could somehow protect myself from what I knew was coming. As if I could ward off the defloration that would happen when Mike decided I was ready. “It’s way too big, it won’t—”
“You’ll learn to love being made to take the cock,” Mike said, and his voice held such certainty that I almost believed him. His hand came to rest on top of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair. “Every girl thinks it’s too big for her at first. But your body was made for this, sweetheart. You’ll stretch. You’ll accommodate me. And you’ll learn to crave it.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through my core, and I felt myself clench hard beneath the seal. My hand was still pressed between my legs, and I realized I was squeezing my thighs together, trying to create friction inside the way Mike had just taught me, trying to ease the desperate aching need that had only intensified since he’d made me come over his lap.
“Kiss it,” he commanded softly.
I leaned forward, my lips trembling as they made contact with the broad head of his cock. The skin was softer than I’d expected, hot and smooth against my mouth. I pressed a tentative kiss there, then another, my eyes squeezed shut.
“Good girl. Now open your mouth and lick it.”
I obeyed, my tongue darting out to taste him. The flavor was strange—masculine and slightly salty—but not unpleasant. I licked again, more confidently this time, tracing the ridge where the head met the shaft.
“That’s perfect,” Mike murmured, his fingers tightening slightly in my hair. “Now wrap both hands around the shaft and stroke while you lick. Let me teach you how to pleasure a man properly.”
I released the hand I’d had pressed between my legs and brought it up to join the other. Together they barely circled his girth, and I marveled at the size of him as I began to stroke. Up and down, following the guidance of his hand over mine, learning the rhythm he wanted.
My tongue continued its exploration, licking and kissing, and I felt his cock twitch in my hands. The knowledge that I was doing this to him—that my inexperienced touches were making his body respond—sent a surge of pride through me that I hadn’t expected. I was pleasing him. I was making him feel good.
Without thinking, I found myself squeezing again, down below my belly. My thighs clamped together and my core muscles flexed, and my hips gave a little involuntary buck forward. The sensation was intense even through the seal, and I had to suppress a moan.
Mike’s hand stilled over mine, halting my stroking. “Notice how your hips just moved,” he said, his voice taking on that instructional tone that made my stomach flip.
I froze, my face going nuclear. I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it.
“That’s your body learning how to behave when a man fucks you,” he continued, and the crude word sent a jolt through my core. “Those little thrusts, that rocking motion—that’s exactly what you’ll do when I’m inside you. Your body already knows what it needs.”
The words made me clench so hard I gasped around the head of his cock, which was still pressed against my lips.
“I can see you’re going to be a handful,” Mike said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice now, mixed with something darker. “Now that you know how to masturbate even when you’re sealed.”
My eyes flew up to meet his, mortification flooding through me. His dark gaze held mine, knowing and possessive.
“Suck my cock,” he commanded softly. “Take it into your mouth.”
I obeyed, taking him into my mouth properly for the first time. The thick head stretched my lips wide, and I had to open my jaw much wider than I’d expected. The taste intensified—masculine and foreign. I tried to take him deeper, but there was so much of him, and I didn’t know what I was doing.
“That’s good, sweetheart,” Mike murmured, his hand gentle in my hair. “Just like that.”
I found my rhythm, sucking and licking while my hands continued to stroke his shaft. And despite my best efforts to control myself, I felt my hips rock forward again, seeking friction that didn’t exist.
“I’m glad the perineal sensor can tell me when you’re masturbating,” Mike said, and my whole body went rigid with fresh mortification. “Because you’re going to have rules about that.”
Rules. Oh, god, he was going to control even that.
“You’re not to pleasure yourself without permission,” he continued, his voice firm. “Do you understand?”
I tried to nod, but his cock was in my mouth, so I made a muffled sound of agreement around him.
“Right now, though,” his tone softened slightly, took on that dark hunger again, “I want to see how hot it gets you to suck your first penis. So you may masturbate as long as you don’t come.”
The permission hit me like a drug. My thighs clamped together immediately, and I began to rock in earnest, creating that delicious friction inside that Mike had taught me. My core muscles flexed rhythmically as I sucked him, and the dual sensations—his thick cock stretching my lips while I pleasured myself—were almost overwhelming.
“That’s it,” Mike encouraged, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Show me how much you need it. Show me what a desperate little whore I bought.”
I felt my face burn hotter at his crude words, but my body betrayed me completely. My hips rocked faster, my thighs clamping together as I chased the building pleasure. The humiliation of being called a whore—of knowing he was right, that he had literally bought me—only made the ache between my legs more intense.
“Stop,” Mike said suddenly, his voice sharp. “Take your hands away from my cock.”
I obeyed immediately, my hands falling to my sides even as my mouth remained wrapped around him. I whimpered in confusion, my hips still rocking in that desperate rhythm I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Put your hands on your bottom cheeks,” he commanded. “Behind you.”
My arms moved back awkwardly, my palms finding the burning flesh of my spanked bottom. The heat radiating from my punished cheeks made me gasp around his cock, and I felt fresh tears prick at my eyes.
“I’m going to give you your first lesson in face-fucking,” Mike said, and something in his tone made my stomach drop. His hands moved to either side of my head, fingers threading firmly through my hair, holding me in place. “Keep your mouth open. Breathe through your nose. And don’t fight me.”
Before I could process what was happening, I felt him thrust up into my mouth. Not deep, not yet, but the sensation of him moving rather than me was completely different. I made a startled sound around him, my eyes going wide.
He pulled back slightly, then thrust again, a little deeper this time. The thick head of his cock pushed further into my mouth, and I felt my jaw stretch wider to accommodate him. My hands clutched at my burning bottom cheeks as he established a rhythm, each thrust taking him incrementally deeper.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice strained now. “Just relax your throat, sweetheart. Let me in.”
I tried to relax, but it was so much harder when I wasn’t in control. Each thrust made me want to pull back, to create distance, but his hands held my head firmly in place. I could only kneel there and take it, my fingers digging into my punished flesh as he used my mouth.
“Pull your bottom cheeks apart,” Mike commanded, his hips continuing their steady rhythm.
My face blazed. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do something so degrading, so—
“Do it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “Spread yourself open for me.”
My hands moved before I could stop them, my fingers finding the crease where my cheeks met and pulling them apart. The position made me feel impossibly exposed, impossibly vulnerable, and I felt fresh wetness trickle from the seal between my legs.
“Good girl,” Mike groaned, and I felt his cock twitch in my mouth. “Now think about how it’s going to feel when I have my cock there instead.”