She wanted to be fucked again. She not only wanted it, she needed it! The single taste of a good fucking had given her a hunger that wasn't to be lightly denied.
She sat down heavily on the bed, disgusted with herself. She had done something wrong. She didn't look right. She wasn't pretty enough. Something had displeased Mr. Stanton and she took it as a personal flaw. Why wasn't she pretty enough for the man?
"Why?" she cried out loud, clapping her hand over her lips the instant she realized she was speaking aloud. The teenager thought she might summon up a horde of demons if she spoke.
And it seemed she was right.
Dull red lights filled the room making it difficult for her to see. Mr. Stanton returned, stripped to the waist. He had taken off his pants and put on a pair of leather shorts that seemed different to the young girl. Looking more closely, she saw that they laced up the front, much like her corset. The big difference was that this arrangement allowed the man's prick to hang loose in front.
"Here," he said, tossing her a small bottle. "Put this on my skin."
She stared dumbly at the bottle. It was oil.
"Do as I order! NOW!" he bellowed. The shock of hearing him shout at her made Sheryle obey without thinking. She remembered the feel of his whip and his displeasure. She wasn't sure which was worse. The lash of the leather strap only cut her skin. His wrath hurt her to the core of her being.
She moved as far forward as the chains would allow and began pouring the oil into her hand. Smearing it all over his back, she began to massage it into the man's skin. He stood stock still, more of a bronze, than a human. Yet his flesh was warm under her fingers, and for all his apparent skinniness, he had rippling muscles.
The teenager began applying the oil with more vigor. It felt good to rub it into the man's flesh. It turned her on. The heat of the friction between her fingers and his spine made her breathe more heavily. The corset started to cut off her wind but she couldn't stop now. She had to smear even more of the oil across the man's belly.
It was rock-hard. He hardly moved as she worked lower, toward his prick. The cock dangled limply. She wondered if it was dead, if he had left the room and jacked off before returning. The slight tremors in the entire length told her that wasn't likely.
She worked the oil into the man's legs. They were like pillars supporting his upper body. The muscles stood out in bold relief once she had applied the slippery oil. The dim red light made him seem of gigantic proportions. She could hardly believe any man could be so masculine, so virile.
"Mister…" she said meekly. "Master!"
The word shocked her. She hadn't meant to call this awful person "master", yet she had. The psychiatrists called that a Freudian slip, saying what she really meant, instead of what she had intended to say.
"Good," he said. "You learn quickly and well. Dispense with the oil. I feel its effects on my body and soul already."
She watched in mute delight as his prick slowly jerked and bucked until it was half erect. Quickly, she dived forward and greedily stuffed it into her mouth. Sucking hard, she nursed on the stiffening cock until it was entirely erect. The plum-tipped end filled her mouth, making her feel more like a woman than ever before.
This was what it meant to be a woman, she told herself. To have a man and to want him – and to be able to please him fully. Hadn't she smeared the oil onto Mr. Stanton's body as he commanded? He loved it! And now the proof of his lust was throbbing hard inside the humid cavern of her mouth.
Her tongue whirled around, stroking and touching lightly in all the right places. She had learned to give a blow job well. Her cheeks went hollow until she thought she would pass out from lack of air.
Gasping, she started licking and kissing the underside of the man's prick. He shoved her back. She fell heavily, startled.
"Master!" she cried out. "What's wrong? Aren't I pleasing you?"
"No," he said, cold and ominous. "I want more."
"Take me, master. Anything! But don't leave me again!"
She remembered being abandoned in the room the first time. She had thought he would never return. And when he had, it had been in the dark. She hadn't even seen the man who had fucked her cunt for the first time. She could only guess it was Stanton. But the uncertainty, the waiting, she couldn't take that. She would do anything he wanted – so long as he didn't leave her alone.
"I will have my pleasure with you, you cunt, whenever I desire. You have no say in the matter."
"Take me, master. Now. Up my pussy. Up my ass! Yes, take me up my asshole. Butt-fuck me, if it will please you."
He glared at her as if she were a piece of shit. He sneered openly and strode around her, glaring down at her. She stayed on hands and knees, the weight of his opinion heavily on her.
Then she smiled. She would have to entice him. She would have to use the garments she wore to make him want her again. Nothing was worse than being ignored by this man. She parted her stocking clad thighs and moved so that she was on hands and knees. The way her tits hung down over the top of the corset proved to be more comfortable as long as she stayed in this position.
Wiggling her white ass in the air in a manner she thought would encourage the man, she began to move around. The chains on her wrists kept her from getting too far from the bed, but she had enough freedom of movement. Just enough.
Without a word, he dropped down behind her, his hard, erect prick jamming between the meaty slabs of her ass. His prick had been oiled by the run-off from his body. It slid easily toward her snatch.
"Oh, yes, yes!" she called out. "This is nice! It's exactly what I want!"
"What you want is meaningless, bitch," he informed her. "What I want is of paramount importance. Please me and I will not punish you!"
The irony of the situation wasn't lost in her mind. She was supposed to help him get his rocks off! And she wanted nothing more than to feel the steely length of his cock driving hard and deep into her pussy.
She shoved her ass backward, hoping to spear herself with his cock. She missed. His prick slid between the puffy cuntlips, stroking firmly in the liquid sex gash. She shuddered all over, pleasure quivering its way into her body. This was it! She could stay here all day long with his prick parting her pussylips and making her totally aware of every single nerve in her pussy.
It wasn't to work that way. The man reached out and gripped her tits, his well-oiled body sliding easily across her ass and the part of her back not covered with the corset.
She sobbed in reaction. His fingers on her tits were paradise to her. He stroked from the broad bases to the pointy nipples, as if he were milking a cow. The full effect made all the blood in her tits rush to the nipples. They expanded and soon looked like hard, red fingers pointing directly downward. The lightest of touches on them made her whine with desire.
But the cock thrusting slowly back and forth next to her turgid cuntlips thrilled her the most. The promise of having that huge pecker buried all the way up her cunt was immense.
"Fuck me, fuck me gooood!" she demanded.
"I do what pleases me!" he snapped.
"Yes, yes, master, whatever you say. But fuck me!"
His hands gripped down tighter on her tits as he pulled himself forward. This time his prick was lined up with her cunt hole. She felt the heavy, ponderous head begin to part her cuntlips. Then he plunged balls-deep into her pussy.
She screamed. The pain in her newly reamed-out cunt was more than she could stand. She wanted him to stop, but the words refused to form on her lips. All she could do was scream over and over.
"No, no, noooooo!" she whined. "It huuuuuurts…"