My first fucking.
My first fucking.
The words wouldn’t stop playing inside Emma’s head. She did as Molly had told her, which must be what Daniel had wanted Molly to tell her. Emma didn’t have any clothes on, and now she had to climb onto the bed on all fours, like a pet allowed to jump up onto the place where its master slept. A pet released from its cage, so that its master could play with it.
But Emma’s new master wanted to play with her in a very special way. In his soft voice, after dinner, he had stooped next to her cage. “I’m going to fuck you in a little while, my good girl,” he had said, the words coming in that soothing low tone experienced trainers use with their charges. “Don’t be scared. It will only hurt for a few moments, and then it will feel better than anything you’ve felt in your whole life. I won’t fuck your little bottom tonight, so don’t worry about that, but you’ll go to sleep with my seed in your tummy. Your body was made for fucking, Emma, and for pleasure, and I know how to make you feel good better than any other man in the world.”
And when he made her feel good, of course, she would learn to please him, so that he would do it again and again and again. The pleasure her master gave her, that he had already given her when he had allowed her to masturbate under Molly’s blanket, would make her want to do the shameful things that didn’t feel as good for her: the sucking and the bottom training with plug and penis.
“I can take away your shame,” he had said, “but I won’t—not all of it.”
Molly said now, “On your elbows, and arch your back. Present your pussy.”
Emma could have stood to lose a little more shame, at that point. Her face blazed like the sun, and she wondered how she would have felt about her new friend’s instructions that morning, before Molly had first reached into her mind and soothed away her inhibitions—before Emma had taken her clothes off and displayed her uncivilized nature and her need for taming.
She didn’t obey, but instead said in a whisper, “How did this happen so fast?”
But Molly lost a little of her gentleness at Emma’s failure to carry out the command. “Master will spank you, Emma, if you don’t present your pussy for fucking the way he likes. You’re in training now, and you must do as I tell you.”
Emma thought she heard in Molly’s voice, and maybe even felt in Molly’s heart—though she still didn’t understand well at all what these new feelings about other people meant—that the harshness of these words came not from any cruelty or anger, but from Molly’s own desire. Emma had seen in the den, when Daniel punished and trained his elder house girl, how desperately Molly needed her master’s firm hand. She had felt the same need between her thighs, as she had wickedly rubbed and rubbed there, imagining Molly doing the same, but with the fuzzy blanket between her legs rather than over her lap. She’s masturbated with this blanket, Daniel had said, and the blanket smelled like… it smelled like long afternoons in the cage with a pink blanket to match your pink secrets, gripped, ridden, humped, while your master watched. “Good girl,” he would murmur. “Good girl. You may come again.”
She swallowed hard, and got down onto her elbows. She gave a whimper, because she couldn’t help picturing what it looked like to Molly’s eyes, and she arched her back.
“Knees spread, Emma. That’s it. What a pretty pussy, nice and tight. Master will have so much fun there.”
A little sob burst from Emma, and she had to repeat the question, desperate to have it answered. “How did this happen so fast?”
Molly’s voice changed from the enraptured erotic tone of dominance it had just had, as she delivered her shameful instructions, to the voice of a girl Emma’s own age. “It was just like that for me, too,” she said quietly and confidingly. “I was a waitress and he came into the restaurant. He says it was because he could feel my need. He asked me to consent, without soothing me, and then he started to soothe me once I got into his car.”
Emma remembered Daniel telling her to open the cage, when the time had come for her to go tell her parents. All her shame had come back, and she had known he had stopped influencing her in any supernatural way. But… she had known even then—even before her mother had said, “Fine, Emma. Just know that we won’t be helping you anymore” while her father sat impassively in front of the TV—that she had to come back and take her clothes off again, and get into her cage. Molly’s cage. His cage, and so the cage it seemed for both his young lady house girls. Molly had the silver car, it seemed, and Emma had the silver cage.
Molly’s voice dropped even lower, and she spoke slower, more musingly, “He says it’s not his powers, but my need, that sets me apart. He says that girls like me cry out to dominant men from their hearts and pussies, and that whoever took me in hand would have had the power to master me completely from the start.”
Emma considered this for a moment. She remembered the men’s room at the faculty club, and Professor Gage turning around. She arched her back a little more, to see how it felt to present her pussy, to see if she needed it.
Oh, God. Yes. Yes, I need it.
Then her master’s voice came from behind her. “What happened with the professor, Emma?”
She froze, biting her lip, thinking of what he saw, the way her backside lay entirely at his disposal, the way she had just presented herself even more fully, as she thought of the other man to whom she would have presented her pussy if he had given her the chance.
“I can’t read your mind,” he said in the gentle trainer’s voice. “But I can tell from your feelings that you must be thinking about your past, and I think that can only mean what happened at college.”
She could only whimper in response, wanting him to know that he was right, that he could apparently only ever be right, especially where Emma Woodbine was concerned. But she couldn’t tell him, could she?
Then he put his hand on her bottom, and she shivered. She knew she must tell him, because that hand said he would certainly spank her if she didn’t obey, and how could she ever bear to have a spanking in the nude, the thing she longed for and dreaded most in this suddenly very strange universe?
He hadn’t touched her before, she realized. He had only touched Molly, while she had watched, and he had only spoken to her, except for that gentle, gentle touch in her mind. The hand possessively on her bottom, cupping her right where the cleft led down to the place where her need ached the most, seemed to make the feeling of his presence in her mind warmer and stronger and more soothing.
But still she couldn’t speak.
“I need to discipline you, little one, it seems,” Daniel said. The hand went away, and Emma sobbed, because she heard him moving to the side, the way he would have to if he were going to spank her the way a man spanked a girl positioned naked on his bed. Molly didn’t betray her presence with a sound, but Emma realized she could feel her new friend—she could feel a heart in conflict between compassion for Emma and desire to see Emma trained firmly, even harshly. That drew another sob.
“Shh, little one. Shh, my good girl,” Daniel said, as he put his left hand on her waist to control her. “When you’re ready to tell me about the professor, you let me know, and I’ll stop spanking you.”
“Oh, God,” Emma choked. “Oh, please…”
“Shh,” Daniel said again, and started to spank her.
Emma had supposed that for this kind of spanking, a man who knew what a girl like her needed wouldn’t really spank hard. He would give little slaps that said, “You’re getting a spanking, you naughty girl.” He wouldn’t really spank her.
But Daniel really spanked Emma then, and made her cry out. How must the paddle feel, if her master used his hand like that? She struggled, and her bottom clenched the way she knew she had seen Molly’s do, and she felt in Molly’s heart and—oh, no, please—in Molly’s pussy the same wicked enjoyment Emma herself had felt, while Daniel had paddled Molly over the ottoman.
She struggled, but her master held her very firmly, and he spanked her hard, as she yelped, ten times, twenty times, right, then left, then in the middle where she could feel it as a punishment of her naughty pussy, too. She couldn’t bear it—but now she belonged to a man who spanked her, to teach her a lesson about what she needed, and she had to bear it.
“I… I… took off my clothes,” she cried, and the spanking stopped abruptly. Emma went on in a rush, then, desperate to keep feeling the acceptance and the lust she sensed in her master and her fellow house girl. “In the men’s room, in the faculty club, when… when he… when Professor Gage was in there, and I knelt down, and…”
The flood of her words ceased. Daniel said in a warm, congratulatory voice, “Molly, why don’t you give your new friend a reward? Go ahead and kiss this poor little pussy.”
“Oh, no, please…” Emma pleaded. How could she? How could Molly? She felt Molly’s hesitation, the remnants of Molly’s shame, and she understood exactly what Daniel had meant, her eyes opening as they looked only at the red comforter while her new senses felt so much more: she, Emma, could take away that shame, if she wanted, but the shame felt delicious. It echoed Emma’s own shame, and together the two shames made the two pussies warm and wet because of the wicked thing their master had commanded.
Molly said, in a voice that sounded just like Emma’s, “Oh, no, please.” Emma heard in the other girl’s voice something she hadn’t realized had lain in her own: the need—the need for training, for being taught a lesson in submission, for being a good pet who did as Master told her.
“Come here, Molly, and kiss this pussy. This is what you wanted.”
“B-but… but I’ve never…”
Even as Molly protested, though, Emma could feel her start to obey. She couldn’t help turning her face to look, so startling did she find it to know that Molly had started to move though neither sight nor sound had told her the fact. She gasped when she saw the look on Molly’s face as she stepped forward to where Daniel still held Emma’s naked waist: creased brow, pink cheeks, wide eyes.
“No,” Daniel said, “you’ve never kissed another girl even on her mouth, have you? And now you must kiss Emma’s wet little pussy and get it ready for me.”
Molly and Emma made the same little strangled puppy sound then, and after that Emma cried out because Daniel had placed his hand firmly on the back of Molly’s head and pressed her little face into Emma’s bottom. Molly kissed. Molly licked. Up and down, up and down, and then… right there, where a girl who masturbates knows her tongue can make another girl cry out, and struggle against her master’s controlling grip, until she explodes with pleasure.
She felt Daniel’s hands releasing her waist, with a caress that her new senses told her Molly had also received. “Keep going, Molly,” he said, and then he moved a little further around to the side of the bed, and for the first time Emma became fully conscious that he, too was naked.
“Look at my cock, little one,” he said very sternly, as if he knew how hard it would be to obey him, and how the shame would come upon her again.
She had looked down there, at his penis, before in the den. She hadn’t been able to help it, but she had also looked away so quickly that her only impression of the first erection she had ever seen was of its authority, because of how Daniel had held it as he had prepared to enter Molly’s bottom. Now he held it again, in that same arrogant way, and Emma noticed its length and its strange contours: the head and the little slit. The thrill of shame that went through her almost took away the lovely lingering pleasure, but she felt him soothe her even as Molly kissed and licked her gently where the hard penis would soon go, and she understood that, yes, her body was made for fucking.
Emma would have to suck that cock, she knew. She would have to have it in her anus, where it would hurt. Daniel would train her with it, just as he had trained Molly. First, though, she would have it where she needed it the most.
“Are you ready to have my cock inside you, little one?”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
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