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“You can either splooge in the cup willingly, or we can tie you down and extract it manually.” He holds up a long needle.
Fuck that.
“Why?”
The look he gives me in response to my audacity is scathing. He never has appreciated being questioned, but right here in the middle of his show of power? I can't even say I'm surprised when he takes three long strides into the room, stabbing the end of the cattle prod into my stomach. My lack of surprise doesn't make it hurt any less.
“I'll be back in twenty minutes. There better be some genetic material in that cup when I get back, or we'll do this the hard way.”
Part of me almost wonders why he didn't just resort to “the hard way” in the first place, but I know him better than that. This is about power, about showing me who's in control. Forcing me to debase myself is psychological warfare. They probably aren't even going to use the specimen for anything. The simple act of forcing me to do it, and then wondering what they would need it for, is the entire game.
Obviously, the only choice here is to comply. It would be a stupid move to refuse and subject myself to a six-inch needle in my scrotum. Though how he expects me to perform is beyond me. I've never felt less capable of an erection in my life.
The fluorescent lights are blinding, the smell of ammonia overwhelming my senses, even overpowering the acrid stench of my own sweat and blood. Every muscle and bone in my body ache, and whenever I move a wave of nausea threatens.
I struggle to pick up the specimen cup from the floor, my eyes darting around the room and towards the cutout window in the door. Just because I don't see any cameras doesn't mean they aren't here, and this situation is impossible enough without the thought of dear old dad or his henchmen watching.
Grabbing the thin blanket from the bed, I drape it over my lap and unbuckle my slacks. I sit there for a few minutes, but I cannot will my flaccid cock to so much as twitch.
Pulling myself to sit back against the wall, I close my eyes and try to breathe slowly—in through the nose, out through the mouth—the way Micah would coach.
Thinking of how Micah coached Six makes me think of how I coached Micah, which finally gets a reaction out of my body. Keeping my eyes closed tight and the blanket over my lap, I run through every tantalizing moment of touching her body.
I had been disappointed in myself for breaking my resolve. Even when it began, I told myself I wasn't going to touch her; I was just going to tell Micah what to do. But her pussy was dripping and I couldn't stop myself from touching her. And once I started, I didn't want to stop. Walking away afterwards has to be at the top of the list of toughest punishments I've ever inflicted on myself.
Looking back now, I'm disappointed in myself for not staying and telling her how I felt. Showing her how I felt. I should have dropped all pretense the moment I realized she wanted us, the way she reacted to being held down and exposed.
My cock is officially hard, picturing the little drop of wetness that I watched roll down her thigh after I tied her up and smacked her ass. With my hand slowly stroking my growing erection, I close my eyes and fantasize about that day, changing the reality to what I should have done, what I would do, if I could go back…
I lean down and whisper, not convinced I can speak without giving away my weakness for this woman, especially all trussed up and turning pink for me. “Do you like that, baby?”
She whimpers, earning another smack. I've already shown her how to use her voice. I need her to be explicit with her consent.
“Yes!” She cries.
“Do you want us to touch you?”
“Yes!…Please.”
“Where?”
She huffs, her face turning redder than her ass. My hand lands another hard smack.
My voice is gruff and husky. “Tell us where you want us to touch you, Six.”
She screws up her eyes, whimpering lightly.
Smack!
Finally, she blurts the words I want to hear. “Touch my pussy! God. Please!”
“Mmm, that's better,” I praise her, gently caressing the glowing pink of her ass.
Moving to my knees, I oblige, diving face first into her warm, wet core. She gasps, shocked at the contact, but quickly recovers as my tongue plunges inside her. Her hips wiggle, but I stop her. I'm still in charge here.
“Micah, hold her down.” He climbs onto the bed, pushing her hair to one side before laying his hands against her back.
With Micah holding the top of her body, I tighten my hands in the bed sheets that are wrapped around her legs, forcing her thighs apart with her ass still in the air. Then I return my face to her deliciously wet pussy, fucking her with my tongue. Reaching for one of Micah's hands, I guide his fingers to her clit, instructing him how to play with the tiny, sensitive nub.
