by Lucy Wild
“Come with me,” he said, hooking his hands into my armpits and yanking me upwards.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he pulled me from the room.
He stopped, letting go of me and pointing down at my pussy. “To sort that out,” he said, grabbing me again and yanking me along, shoving his way through a doorway and into a huge bathroom.
Palatial didn’t do it justice. It was the size of half my house. The toilet was against the far wall, it seemed to mock me as I looked at it. He had tortured me by leaving me desperate all night and then made me go on a pot on the floor like a child and all the time there was a toilet just a few feet away.
To my left was a shower that seemed built into the wall, a drain in the tiled floor below it. To my right was a claw foot bath big enough to take four people at once. The walls were so white they hurt my eyes. It took me a second to notice the table.
It was the only thing out of place. A plain, polished wood table over in the corner. He dragged me across to it. “Lay on your back,” he said, turning away to the sink, twisting the taps until steaming water began to gush into the basin.
“What are you going to do to me,” I asked, my hands between my legs, trying to protect myself from what he might do, from what I definitely didn’t want him to do. Even as my body throbbed at the thought, I didn’t want that. Never.
“Shave that hair off you of course.” He had his back to me so I couldn’t tell how he looked but he sounded more amused than angry.
I climbed reluctantly onto the table. I’d never been shaved down there, I’d never dared. I hated how I looked enough already without needing to see that part of me in more detail.
Laid on my back, I could feel the cold wood digging into my skin. I turned to look at him as he crossed the tiled floor towards me, a bowl of steaming water in one hand and a razor in the other.
“Keep very still,” he said, putting the bowl down next to my right hip.
He picked up my left ankle and moved it sideways. “Bend your knees,” he said as I became more exposed to him than ever before.
I was ready for his disgust, for him to see how horrible I looked between my legs.
It didn’t happen. Instead he smiled, a genuine smile. “So beautiful,” he muttered, lifting a cloth out of the water, bringing it towards my thighs.
“You like it?” I muttered, ashamed of the question almost at once. I sounded like a child seeking approval, not a confident, mature woman.
“You look stunning,” he said, dabbing the cloth at the skin around my pussy. His hand never touched me but I reacted as if it did, my body heating up.
His eyes never stopped staring at it. Even after he had lathered my triangle of hair and picked up the razor once more, he was still staring. “Keep very still,” he warned again as he leant in and brought the blade sliding down towards my pussy, scraping away the hair and exposing the bare skin underneath, the nerve endings brought to life as he worked.
I fought to keep my breathing under control as he worked his way lower. I was barely keeping it together. Then he touched my pussy.
TWELVE
ETHAN
The others had all been shaved already. I hadn’t needed the table, though it was laid out ready just in case. Just another way that Zoey was different.
I worked the razor slowly downwards until all that was left of the hair encircled the folds of her pussy. Dipping the razor into the water again, I held it ready in my right hand. With my left I reached out and moved her skin, listening as she gasped above me, her legs shuffling in place.
“Keep still!” I snapped. “You don’t want me to cut you, do you?”
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“Sorry, what?”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“That’s better.”
I loved the feel of her pussy lips under my fingers, so I took the chance to move her more than was needed, playing with the folds, exploring them, all the while telling myself it was just to help make it easier to shave her.
I didn’t tell her when I was done. I dropped the razor into the bowl and brought my two hands to her thighs. It was a second of work to spread her pussy lips wide open, to stare at her pink wetness, find that little hole of hers, examine it closely.
“You’re wet,” I said, leaning closer.
“It was the water,” she said, the lie evident in her voice.
“The water?” I echoed back to her as I pulled up the hood that protected her clit, letting me see just how swollen it had become.
I was close enough to lick it. All I had to do was stick out my tongue and…
“Get up,” I said, stepping back. “Now!”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, swinging her legs off the table.
She looked shaky when she stood, her cheeks and her chest both flushed with colour.
“This way,” I said, beckoning for her to follow.
I walked away, trying not to think about how hard I was, the fact that she was naked behind me. Instead I thought about how best to get back on track. I was already changing the system, doing things in the wrong order, ruining my process, the tightly honed set of steps I’d developed.
Break them first, then touch them. I hadn’t even broken her yet.
I opened the door to the next room, stepping inside and waiting for her to join me. “Sit there,” I said, pointing to the armchair with the stirrups sticking out at the end, just ready for her ankles.
“Why?”
I leant towards her, lowering my voice to a cold whisper. “Because I said so.”
“But-”
“It’s simple. Bad girls spend a week in an empty room with just a pot to piss in, maybe not even that. Good girls spend a week in here with everything they could want as their reward for their behaviour. You either sit in the chair and get your reward or you go back across the landing. Which is it to be?”
“I don’t think I should do this. I think-”
“You think too much about things. You want this, I know you do. You need permission to be a slut? Fine, you have my permission. Get in the chair.”
I was gratified to see she did as I asked. She walked past me and I couldn’t help but stare at her ass, it looked so fucking hot, my hands ached to grab it, to squeeze those buttocks, to ram myself into her, to spank her cheeks bright red.
“Feet in the stirrups,” I said coldly as she sat down.
She lifted her legs, not even bothering to protest. With her ankles in place, her pussy was right where I wanted it, in full view.
It was a magnificent sight and I took it all in. From the way her eyes darted about to the hardness of her nipples, all the way down to her curled toes. But my attention was mostly held by her freshly shaved pussy. “You look much better like that,” I said, sinking to my knees and looking more closely at it. “Now touch yourself.”
“Wh…what?” she stuttered.
“Touch yourself for me. I want to watch.”
“But why?”
“No questions, just do it. I know you want to.”
“I don’t, I really don’t.”
“Then why,” I began, reaching out and slipping my finger between her folds, “are you so wet?”
The instant I touched her, I saw her whole body go rigid. I grinned as I brought my finger upwards towards her clit, not touching it, just hovering near it. “Do you want me to touch you?” I asked, taking my hand away.
There was a long pause before she muttered, “Yes.”
“Then touch yourself.”
Her hand moved slowly across her hip, as if she was waiting to be told off for doing this, to be admonished for being so dirty. She’d be waiting a long time.
Her hand moved between her legs, two fingers dipping into her wetness, scooping it up and sliding it over her clit. She let out a quiet sigh as she did so, glancing at me for approval. I nodded back at her. “Keep going.”
Then I said nothing. I just stared at her pussy as she touched herself, as her inhibitions melted away i
n that perfect moment.
It was like taking a layer off her, the layer of social rules, the layer that said you only did this kind of thing alone, in private. With that gone, she relaxed further, her hand starting to move in a pattern that looked like she had used it many times before.
Her eyes closed as her knees started to shift, her tits heaving as her breathing grew heavier.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. A day ago, she’d been a stranger in a pub. Now she was naked, her legs wide open, her hands on her pussy, all because of me. I was the cause of this, I was the reason she was here and that thought made me feel powerful, made me feel like the master of her already, crazy an idea as that was. I was her master.
And we were only on our second day together.
THIRTEEN
ZOEY
I had to close my eyes to touch myself. I’d never done it in front of my boyfriend. I’d never done it in front of anyone. I’d never had my pussy bare like this, nothing hidden, every part exposed.
It had taken quite the mental adjustment to accept that he didn’t hate how I looked. He had been stood staring at me when I first touched myself and he hadn’t stopped since.
I felt so embarrassed to be doing it that the only way I could cope was to close my eyes and pretend I was alone.
It wasn’t too difficult to do it then. I was already turned on after the way he’d shaved me, his hands moving the soft folds of my skin one way and then the other, his hot breath making me tingle.
By the time he told me to get up, my legs were weak, my mind confused. I felt lost and alone, the society I knew and all the rules of civilisation didn’t seem to exist here. Without them, I was adrift in a sea of emptiness, my mind seeking for anything, like I was groping in the dark until I found somewhere solid to anchor myself to.
It was him. I scurried after him from the room, the only solid thing in the house, the only real thing. His rules were madness but they were real. He could be relied on, that was what my mind had decided.
He brought me into a bedroom more palatial than any I’d ever known. It was as big as the bathroom, with a four poster bed against the far wall. Two huge windows let in the light from outside, illuminating tapestries that lined the room. The carpet was deep red, the blankets on the bed a lighter hue. Above us, a chandelier hung, perfectly still, the beams of sun hitting and bouncing off it, sending twinkling spots of white onto the wall next to me.
I didn’t even notice the stirrups on the chair until he told me to sit, I was too busy trying to grasp the enormity of the space I was in, the sheer wealth and history on display.
I had already gotten used to being naked in front of him, mad as that may sound. When all the rules crumble away, you seek out normality, your brain adjusting to stop you cracking completely. I told myself it was normal to be naked, at a subconscious level.
It resulted in the shame of my nudity fading, only to return in spades when he told me to sit and then to touch myself.
I had been able to ignore my throbbing clit until he came so close to touching it before stopping. I felt ashamed of his tone when he told me how wet I was. It was true but I didn’t want it to be true.
I was shocked by just how wet I was, my hand gliding through it, easing the ache in my clit as I circled it slowly. Even with my eyes closed, I was thinking of him, wanting to impress him, to please him.
Part of my reasoning came from the bathroom. He’d been so gentle when he’d shaved me, so different to his belligerent manner when he’d been screaming at me to strip. It was like when he’d helped me from the car, his hand gentle on mine. Something told me that was the real him, the gentle touch, the softness of manner.
Something had happened to crush that part of him, though I couldn’t begin to imagine what. Maybe that was what happened when you built up an empire, you lost your softness. But it was still there, flaring up beneath the furious manner that he kept returning to.
I kept thinking about him as I played with my clit. When I half opened my eyes, I saw him give me a tiny nod, as if telling me that what I was doing was acceptable. Even that small note of approval warmed me inside, he was already making me need his approval.
He’d been right, of course, not that I would ever have had admitted it to him. I did want his permission to be a slut. I could never have climbed onto that chair and spread my legs so wantonly of my own volition, the idea was too far from what I was capable of doing. I was too shy to ever offer to do such a thing. It was hard enough to believe he wanted to watch.
I was sinking into the moment, my hand continuing to tease, my breathing growing shallow, when he suddenly interrupted, bringing me back to the present. “Stop,” he said.
I took a second too long and he slapped my hand away. “You do as you’re told without hesitation,” he said, kneeling down between my legs, exhaling onto my pussy, the sensation strong enough to make my toes curl and my fingers clench into fists as he paused to speak again. “Spread your lips apart.”
I did as he asked, my fingers trembling as he examined me closely. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked, looking down at his serious face.
This,” he replied, his fingers sliding up my thighs, his touch more gentle than I thought possible. Then with his hot breath continuing to hit my pussy, my body tensed up, knowing what was coming.
But it didn’t. He moved his fingers up over the spot he’d just shaved. “Much better,” he said, sliding them down again, this time straight over my throbbing clit.
I felt as if wetness was pouring out of me, I was so turned on. How was this happening? I’d never felt like this in my life, so tense, so wired, like every nerve in my body was awake for the first time. Then he slid a finger into me.
FOURTEEN
ETHAN
She gasped when I first explored inside her. It was a sound that made me harder than ever. In that moment, I wanted to fuck her more than anything in the world.
Her face was contorted, as if she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t enjoying this, that she shouldn’t enjoy a single moment of this.
It lost that look as I pushed my index finger into her warm pussy. Instead her expression became one of unbridled lust.
This was where I had to be careful, I had to resist going too far. It would be all too easy to bring her to orgasm. I doubted it would take more than a few minutes. The sight of her face as she came would be hot as hell but it wasn’t time for that. It would ruin all of my planning.
Emilia had broken me by tormenting me, not letting me orgasm until she was ready, deaf to my pleading. That was exactly what I intended to do to her.
Her pussy contracted around my finger, the muscles inside her squeezing me, trying to draw me further in. Instead, I slid from me, moving up to her clit, making the same motions I’d observed from her hand.
There was no better way of seeing what a woman liked than by watching her do it to herself, their methods all similar but also so different.
She tended to tease herself, either through a masochistic streak or because that little nub of hers was too sensitive for direct touch. She circled it in little rings that came closer and then further away, alternating with sliding down to her hole, gathering more wetness each time.
I did the same, getting gradually faster as the minutes went by, glancing up at her face as it grew wilder.
She shifted in the chair, her hips starting to move as her hands went to her breasts, tugging at her nipples, her mouth falling open as she started to pant. “Do you want to come?” I asked, not stopping the movement of my hand.
She nodded. “Yes, God, yes.”
“You didn’t say Sir,” I said, pulling my hand away and standing up, looking down at her with a frown on my face.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, looking bewildered. “Please, don’t stop.”
Her eyes went down to the front of my trousers and I had to resist grinning. She wanted me already. Even after scaring her and locking her away for the night, she still wa
nted me. This was going to be too easy.
“Stand up,” I said whilst lifting her ankles from the stirrups and setting them down on the floor. “Come on, quickly.”
She staggered slightly as she stood, as if dizzy. “Onto the bed,” I said, taking her hand and leading her over to it. “On all fours.”
I waited until she was knelt in position before continuing. “Now reach behind you and spread your buttocks apart.”
“I can’t, I’ll fall over.”
“Head down. Now arms back. There.”
I watched her closely. She had her head pressed into the blanket under her. Her boobs hung down, swaying slightly as she reached back and took hold of her buttocks, slowly parting them to reveal her hidden neat little hole, the skin puckered and just inviting my tongue to flick over it.
“This is what you are to me for the next week,” I said, leaning towards her, lowering my voice. “You are my sex toy, here to bring me pleasure. Your holes are for me to use whenever I want to. If I so much as click my fingers, you are to present yourself like this ready for me to use. If I say the word, you get in this position, your ass exposed to me. No part of you is out of bounds. I can fuck your face or your ass, perhaps both. You are here for me to use and in return I will give you great pleasure. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, her voice muffled by the blanket.
“Good girl.”
I patted her ass, letting my hand slide between her cheeks and then down, directly over the slight ridge that surrounded her hole. I ached to be inside it, the beast within me impatient to get in there, to fill her up with my cock. It would have to wait.
I circled it for the briefest of seconds. “Knees further apart,” I ordered, waiting until she’d shuffled her legs away from each other, exposing more of her pussy.
“Keep your hands where they are,” I said, stroking through the glistening wetness that had formed at the entrance to her. I dipped a finger into her again, listening to her sharp intake of breath as I did so.
Pulling it slowly back out, I moved it to her clit, circling it again, my face near her ass. I let my tongue glide forwards, flicking over her puckered hole, doing my best to ignoring the aching pain in my cock as it strained against my trousers.
