Page 70 of Shamefully Trained

The white lace, the stockings, my flushed face, my swollen mouth, and Porter standing behind me with his cock hard in one hand—it was too much. I looked exactly like what he had made me. A kept girl. A little slut dressed up for use.

He must have seen the shock in my expression, because his hand tightened on my hip.

“Do you see how pretty you are for me?”

My throat tightened. “Yes, sir.”

“How ready?”

I made a helpless little noise. His free hand slid down over my stomach and between my thighs, pressing lightly over the lace of the thong. I jerked at once.

“Oh,” I gasped.

“That ready,” he said.

I could feel how wet I was even through the fabric, and so could he. He rubbed once, slowly, over the soaked little panel, and I had to bite my lip not to make a louder sound.

“Soaked,” he murmured. “From sucking cock.”

I shut my eyes.

“No. Watch.”

I opened them again and saw myself in the mirror, saw the way my body responded when he touched me there, saw his erection beside my hip, saw my own face go soft and pleading with need. The sight shamed me so deeply that the shame itself seemed to feed the ache between my legs.

He moved the thong aside with two fingers.

“Please,” I whispered, though I had no idea what I was pleading for.

His fingertips found my bare, slick folds. I jolted so hard I nearly lost my balance. He held me easily.

“You look perfect like this,” he said near my ear. “Dressed up, dripping wet, and too excited to hide it.”

I let out a tiny cry.

Then he removed his hand from my pussy, took me by the chin, and turned my face slightly toward him.

“Back on your knees,” he said. “I’m not done with your mouth.”

I sank down at once, even more quickly than before.

This time when he thrust his rigid phallus into me, he did it with less patience. His hunger became more evident. His hand gathered my hair. He pushed in deeper from the first stroke, and my throat convulsed. Tears sprang to my eyes. He held me there for a second, then eased back enough for me to breathe.

“That’s right,” he said roughly. “Take it. Yes, you’re definitely learning.”

He began to fuck my face in a steady rhythm. It felt as if he intended not to instruct me but to enjoy me as fully as my developing skills permitted. Each thrust made the room narrow. I could hear the wet sounds of my mouth taking him, hear my own choked breaths in between. My hands stayed behind my back because he had put them there, and because some wretched obedient part of me wanted him to see that I could do it.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Such a beautiful mouth.”

The words made me clench so hard that a pulse of pleasure shot through me. I wanted friction with desperate intensity. I wanted his fingers, his cock, anything. Instead I knelt there and let him use my mouth while my body begged silently for more.

At last he pulled me off him.

I gasped, saliva slipping lewdly from my lips to my chin before I could catch it. I flushed at once and tried to wipe it away with my shoulder, since my hands were still behind me.

His eyes darkened at the sight.

“Leave your hands where they are,” he said.