She only hesitated a second at the unexpected command before she moved to obey, setting the lunch bag on his table, dropping gracefully to her knees. Fifteen seconds after he gave the order, she had him in her mouth, working him until he was thick. Granite hard.
He patted her head, and she sat back on her heels.
“Over the desk and spread your ass cheeks.”
She stood, heart hammering, and turned toward the desk. A few steps from it, and she leaned over so only her tits and cheek were on it.
He hadn’t told her to remove the dress, so she’d had to reach under it and back to spread herself for him.
Apparently, he wanted to lift it and tuck the fabric up under her arms today, to get it out of the way.
And fuck if she didn’t feel somehowmoreexposed like this.
She grunted when the plug came out because her body locked down, trying to protect itself. Her hole was raw and wrecked, theburn from the capsaicin barely dulled, Silas’s brutal fucking still etched into her muscles like scars that hadn’t scabbed over. It felt like something tearing open all over again.
She heard him with the lube behind her, but he only put it on his cock. Not inside her.
When he pushed in, her body tried to rebel, clenching hard against the invasion, but it didn’t matter. He forced himself in anyway. The pain didn’t just bloom, it exploded, white-hot and deep, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes squeezing shut as a soundless gasp tore from her throat.
The egg still inside her kicked on, the sudden vibrations brutal in her already overstimulated body. It pulsed so violently the sensation transferred straight to her clit — swollen, throbbing, painfully aware. Her whole body jolted from the contact, but she didn’t dare move.
Other than the few orgasms she hadn’t been able to hold back during training, she hadn’t been allowed to come since Sunday. And those had been stolen, ruined by the wand before they could even begin. Now, her cunt clenched and ached, nerve endings shot through with fire, her mind a snarled wreck of need, pain, and helplessness.
She was beyond desperate — but not just to come. Desperate tobreathe, toendure, to survive the next few minutes without breaking completely.
She wasn’t surprised when Kenny said, “No words, fucktoy. I’m not going to give you permission to come, so don’t bother begging.”
Her nails curled against her ass cheeks. She’d been about to ask permission to move her hands.Fuck. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out — not from the pain, but the sheerfrustrationof it all. Of being held together by ritual and rules, even as everything inside her threatened to splinter.
Her breath fogged the glass under her cheek as he drove into her again and again. The angle kept her weight on the edge, every thrust grinding her battered flesh across the desk, so her breasts smudged the surface she’d be cleaning soon enough.
Her hole throbbed like it had been flayed open, nerves flaring with every forced inch he pushed inside, each movement a fresh jolt of pain.
She couldn’t push back, couldn’t take control of the rhythm. Her fingers twitched against her own ass cheeks, craving movement, relief,anything. All she could do was hang there, held open and hurting, while he used her like she wasn’t human.
Her body gave no quarter. Her cunt spasming with each punishing pulse of the egg, her clit throbbing.
Her asshole clenched and fought, but it didn’t matter, he forced her to take it anyway. Again and again and again.
She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t come. Couldn’t speak. Just pain and noise and silence inside her own skull.
When he finally emptied into her, the heat of it filled her like a brand, and her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of it. He didn’t pause. The plug went back in without fanfare, thick and unforgiving, sealing everything in while her body screamed its protest.
“At ease,” he said, wiping his dick down, tucking it away. “Pull the chair up to the desk.”
She crossed the room to the chair, each step jostling the plug and sending sharp flares of pain through her abused hole. Her ass throbbed, the ache sharp and pulsing, every muscle stretched and overworked, every nerve raw. She dragged the chair to the desk, teeth clenched, and unpacked the containers. Opened them. Distributed forks and spoons with hands that didn’t quite tremble. Opened the bottles of tea. Created two place settings, and then waited.
He hadn’t told her to sit, so she remained standing, silent and still.
Lunch was all about protocol, and waiting anchored her again. Reminded her who she is, why she was there. Time with her owner. Ritual.
Every breath reminded her of the plug in her ass, but she stood while he took a drink of his tea. Looked everything over.
When he finally told her to sit, she carefully lowered herself onto the chair. The plug stayed heavy inside her, and the pressure of sitting sent fresh pain radiating through her lower back.
But as Silas was fond of reminding her, fucktoys are supposed to be sore. She’d miss this while she was gone.
Conversation was casual, asking about her workout, talking about plans for dinner. Tonight she’d have a scene with Boone, and then would sleep with Kenny and Silas. It was fitting, she thought, that all three men would be included this evening — her last before leaving for Birmingham.
