Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Going over to his desk, I don’t even wait for him to ask. I shove my shorts down my legs and bend over his desk, putting my arms behind my back. Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes, knowing what’s about to come. Lots of people have anal. It can’t be that bad. I’m a pretty competitive person, and if they can do it, so can I.
His hands go between my thighs and undo the snaps on my leotard, pushing it up and out of the way. “You’re wet, Lake,” he observes.
I whimper, knowing my underwear has a wet spot. I’m always horny for him. That’s what a trained slut needs. Dick.
His desk drawer opens and closes, then the handcuffs are fastened around my wrists. I hiss in a breath when he tightens them. Then my thong is pulled to the side before his fingers run over my cunt. I moan, pushing back against him.
“How do you feel?” he asks, and then clarifies, “Your stomach?”
I blush, thankful he can’t see my face. “Fine,” I answer.
I think he’s going to start fingering me, but instead, he runs them up and over my ass. I can’t help but tense up. He removes them only to place them back, and I can feel the lube on them this time. He pushes one into me, and I suck in a deep breath. “You’ve got a six-hour shift tonight,” he says, removing it and pushing it back in. “You will be in my office every two hours. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” I gasp when I feel him pushing a second one in. That nervousness returning to my stomach. Three times tonight he’s going to fuck my ass? Dear Lord, my pussy is still sore from all the sex we’ve had since I became his wife.
He pulls them out, and I take in a shaky breath. “How often?” he asks, slapping my ass cheek.
“Every two hours,” I answer, my arms fighting the cuffs digging into my sensitive skin.
“If you don’t, you will be punished, Lake,” he adds, and I inhale sharply as he pushes two fingers into my ass once again.
I rise up on my tiptoes, and when I’m about to beg him to stop, he pulls them out. I exhale and relax on the surface of the desk.
But I tense a second later when something rubs against my ass. “Tyson?” I gasp, feeling pressure against the spot his fingers just were. It’s not his dick, it feels … different.
“Take in a deep breath, Lake,” he commands.
I do as he says.
“Now let it out slowly and relax.” He pushes something inside me. I cry out, trying to pull away but my hips are pushed up against the side of the desk, so I have nowhere to go. I’m at his mercy.
I feel my ass open up for whatever he’s making me take, and just when I don’t think I can take it anymore, the pain subsides.
He grabs my cuffed arms and pulls me to stand. Turning me to face him, he cups my face. My watery eyes meet his and he leans down, kissing me. My lips open up for him on their own, and I moan into his mouth as he reminds me that I’m his.
I want to cry that I want him. That I need him. The fact that my pussy is wet just proves that I’m trained. Just how he wants me. My hands fight the cuffs, wanting to touch him. To run all over his chest and arms, feeling his strong and muscular body.
The taste of the whiskey on his breath has me moaning. Or it could be the way he’s holding me to him—both of his hands in my hair, his fingers gripping the strands so painfully my scalp stings. But I like it. I rub my hips into his, and I can feel how hard he is. He’s all worked up, and I pray that it’s because of me and not the bitch who was in his office when I entered.
He slows the kiss, just our lips touching before he pulls away, leaving me panting. “Every two hours, you will come to see me, and I’ll change out the plug.”
My eyes widen as I realize what we’re doing. He’s going to slowly stretch my ass to fuck it later. I knew anal was his plan, but I thought we would do it now and get it over with. Why do I feel like he’s punishing me? Dragging it out by making me wait. It’s a way of control.
“Do not remove it,” he demands.
“What if …?” I trail off, afraid to even finish that question.
“What if what?” he asks, running his knuckles down my neck and to my choker.
The subtle hint that, at any time, he can turn it on and shock me into submission. Maybe that’s what he meant by I’ll be punished tonight. The fact that I want to be his good girl is reason enough to turn it on and light me up. Maybe it’ll help me out of this trance that he’s got me in.