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CHAPTER 9
Grace
“No,” I sobbed.
“Such a naughty girl,” Shelly said in a tone that seemed like a magic spell, or a kind of hypnosis. “Just a naughty girl… an adult, but not really a grownup yet, are you, honey?”
I felt like I had fallen through, somehow.
Fallen through what?
The rabbit hole? Alice’s gateway to an impossibly strange world?
But Alice… well, she didn’t… she would never…
I cried out. I bit my lip hard, looking at Shelly, at the transported expression on her face… she seemed to have fallen through the same trap door, into this dark, hot world. Not so dark I couldn’t see the shameful things in it, and feel, to my distress, that I wanted those things.
I felt my burning, whipped, bare bottom squirming on Jake’s knowing fingers. I felt my hips riding and riding. I heard how terribly wet he’d gotten me in an instant, after the horrid family strap had seemed to remove every sensation of pleasure and all thought of desire. I breathed in through my nose and I caught the scent of myself, the musky aroma of my naughtiness that I felt certain Jake and Shelly must be able to smell, too.
How could it be real?
“Shelly, hon,” Jake said. “You’d better come over here and suck my cock. Whipping our little Grace got me so hard.”
My foster mama started to rise from her chair, putting her knitting in the basket next to her.
“May I take off my clothes, sir?” she asked. “May I play with my pussy with my panties down?”
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I closed my eyes. It felt like if I watched, all of this impossible, shameful, irresistible scene might simply cease to exist. I put my face in the wet cushion and I shook my head, as if trying to tell the universe that I hadn’t asked for a whipping, or my foster father’s hand between my legs—that I might have stolen a pair of earrings and sassed Jake, but that otherwise I was innocent.
Jake gripped my pussy more tightly, and I moaned, my back arching and my head thrown back, my fists clenching tight beneath me.
“Go ahead, hon,” he told Shelly. “You’ve been a good girl, so, yes, you may take those panties down and touch your little pussy that way.”
I felt his thumb go between my punished cheeks and press against the smallest place, the tiniest hole. My moan became a cry of surprise and degradation. I squeezed my eyes even more tightly shut and shook my head some more.
“Oh, yes, honey,” Jake told me. “The man in charge of you is going to touch you wherever he wants, and wherever he thinks you need it.”
My forehead creased so hard it hurt.
“I was so scared,” I heard Shelly say from the darkness. “The first time Jake told me he was going to fuck my bottom. It hurt, and it still hurts a little every time, but it feels good, too, honey. Kind of like the strap. You know your husband has the right to use you there, and you’re proud that he gets so much pleasure from your bottom hole.”
I could hear her taking off her dress: soft sounds of unbuttoning, and then the rustle of falling fabric. I didn’t want to see, and yet I wanted to see, so bad. I wanted to see her bottom, the place where she had undergone so much, it seemed, from her loving husband. I wanted to see her pussy, as dizzy as the thought made me feel, when I became conscious of it. Her big breasts. All the naughty places she so clearly believed belonged completely to Jake, the parts of her he obviously took great pleasure in using.
The air moved subtly. My senses, the entire surface of my skin, seemed to have come more vividly alive than I had ever felt. I could feel Shelly take two steps. I sensed her kneeling on the rug in front of Jake. I cried out at the image, just the picture in my mind’s eye of the naked wife on her knees before her clothed husband, his hand working the desperately needy pussy of the young woman who he had just finished whipping. My bottom moved uncontrollably back and forth, in the motions I knew belonged to sex… to fucking.
Had Shelly really just said that dirty word? Had she really just told me about her husband putting his hardness in her tiniest, most private hole?
I had never had sex, but my body seemed to know how it worked, how my hips and my backside should move when a man finally put his rigid penis inside me, the way Jake did when he used his wife.
He has the right, she had said. It echoed in my mind in all its lewd heat, pulling me into the fantasy. He has the right to fuck. He has the right to spank, and to whip. To touch me, too… to make me come.
I opened my eyes, but I kept my sight in front of me, at the hook on the mantelpiece where the family strap had hung, before Jake had taken it down to teach me my terrible lesson. I rode his hand, pushing my rear end backwards, offering it to him, hoping, wantonly and impossibly, that he would fuck me, right now, the way he fucked his wife.
“May I take out your beautiful cock, sir?” Shelly asked huskily from beside me.
“Yes, you may, good girl,” Jake said, his voice sounding just as thick as Shelly’s.
I heard a soft rasping that must have been the sound of his zipper opening. I heard my foster father give a soft grunt from deep in his throat. I heard a kiss, and I knew it must have been planted on Jake’s cock.
