The words hit me harder than I expected. He was right—I had been drifting. Aimless. Just trying to survive from one day to the next without any real direction despite the wealth of opportunity that had been around me. The thought of having a purpose again, like I’d had in high school when the only thing I was focused on was getting out. If I had something to work toward…
“It can be as wild and ambitious as you want,” Mike continued. “Dream big. I’ll review whatever you come up with.”
Before I could respond, he leaned down and kissed me. Not rough or demanding like I’d expected, but gentle. Almost tender. His lips moved against mine with surprising softness, and I found myself kissing him back without thinking.
The kiss deepened gradually, his tongue sliding against mine as his hand moved from my jaw to cup the back of my head. I melted into him, my body responding despite—or, I suddenly thought with a flare of heat in my face, because of—everything he’d demanded of me tonight, all the degradation and the shameful service. His other hand slid down my back, stroking my spine, and I shivered against him.
Then his palm found my bottom cheek, and I gasped into his mouth as he squeezed the still-tender flesh. The soreness flared under his touch, making me acutely aware of every handprint he’d left there. His fingers moved lower, finding the base of the plug, and he pressed against it.
The sensation shot through me like electricity. I whimpered, my hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Mike made a satisfied sound against my lips. He continued kissing me while his hand played with the plug—pressing it deeper, shifting it slightly, creating sparks of sensation that made my sealed pussy throb with renewed need.
“Mike,” I gasped against his mouth, asking for something without any idea of what.
He pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, and his eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Watch,” he commanded softly.
I watched, my heart hammering, as he shifted back from me on the bed and stood. His hands moved to his belt, unfastening it with deliberate slowness. Then his pants. Then his briefs. He pushed them down together until they were around his knees.
“Look at what you do to me,” he said, and I couldn’t help but stare.
His cock stood rigid, impossibly hard, the thick shaft jutting out from his body. I felt my face go hot as I realized how aroused he was—how turned on he got at the idea of possessing me. It was bigger than I remembered from earlier, or maybe it just seemed that way now that I could see all of it, thrusting out obscenely from his dark, wiry pubic curls, framed by the breathtaking sight of his muscular lap, his hairy thighs, the wrinkly pouch of his scrotum beneath.
Mike wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “This is what you do to me, Laura. Your body. Making you submit. Punishing you. The thought of opening you in every way on my manhood.”
I watched, transfixed and mortified in equal measure, as he pleasured himself. His hand moved in long, steady strokes, and I could see the muscles in his forearm flex with each movement. My face burned hotter with every second, but I couldn’t look away.
Then his other hand reached out and cupped my right breast. His palm was warm against my skin as he fondled me, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardened under his touch. The sensation sent sparks straight to my sealed pussy, and I let out a little whimper as I felt myself clench hard.
“So responsive,” he murmured, his hand continuing to pump his erection while he played with my breast. “Such a good little slut for your sponsor.”
His hand moved lower, sliding over my belly, my hip, until his fingers found the seal between my legs. He pressed against it, and I gasped at the sensation. The pressure was maddening—so close to what I needed but not enough, never enough.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please… sir.”
Mike’s fingers explored the seal, tracing the unnatural line where my labia had been pressed together. Then his hand moved over my hip to find the base of the plug in my bottom. He pressed against it, and I cried out as the fullness intensified.
The humiliation crashed over me in waves. He was using me like an object, touching me wherever he wanted while he pleasured himself, and all I could do was take it. All I could do was watch him stroke his cock while he fondled my breasts and my sealed pussy and my plugged bottom like they belonged to him.
Because they did belong to him. I’d sold them to him for ten thousand dollars.
The thought made my pussy clench so hard I sobbed. The shame of it—the degradation of being made to watch him masturbate—made me whimper, my thighs clenching together involuntarily. The arousal felt overwhelming, flooding through my system alongside the mortification, feeding on it somehow. My face burned with shame, but between my legs I felt fresh wetness gathering at the tiny opening in my seal. My body was betraying me completely, responding to the degradation with desperate need.
“Think about this, sweetheart,” Mike said, his voice rough as his hand moved faster on his shaft. “I can touch myself whenever I want. I can come whenever I want. But you—” his fingers pressed harder against the plug, making me gasp “—from now on you have to obey my rules about how you touch this luscious body.”
The words sent a jolt of humiliation through me so intense I thought I might actually come just from hearing them. He was right. He had complete freedom over his own body while I had to ask permission to seek relief from this constant aching need, or I would go back over his knee and feel his firm hand on my bare backside. The power imbalance was absolute, and my sealed pussy clenched hard at the thought.
“Come here,” he commanded, his voice husky. “On your knees.”
I scrambled off the bed, my legs shaky as I dropped to my knees in front of him. From this angle, his cock seemed even more imposing, jutting out at eye level as his hand worked the rigid length.
“Kiss it,” he said. “Kiss my cock while I finish.”
My lips trembled as I leaned forward and pressed them against the broad head. The skin was hot and silky, and I felt his shaft twitch at the contact. I kissed him again, then again, my lips moving over the swollen crown while his fist pumped just below.
“Lower,” Mike commanded. “Lick my balls.”
Oh, god. My face blazed even hotter, but I obeyed, ducking my head to find the heavy sac beneath his cock. My tongue darted out, tasting the masculine musk of him, and I heard him grunt above me. I licked again, more confidently this time, my tongue exploring while his hand moved faster on his shaft.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Such a good little cocksucker. Keep licking.”
