My face went instantly hot, but I obeyed, wrapping both hands around his thick shaft and beginning to work it with slow, firm strokes. I pressed my hips forward tentatively, feeling the smooth line of my seal make contact with the hard muscle of his thigh.
“Harder,” he said. “Rub yourself against me like you need it.”
I did, pressing my sealed pussy more firmly against his leg and beginning to move my hips. The sensation was immediate and intense—the pressure against my clit through the seal, combined with the knowledge of what I was doing, made me whimper with arousal.
“That’s it,” Mike groaned. “Hump my leg like a bitch in heat while you jerk me off.”
The degrading words should have mortified me, but instead they only made me more desperate. I found myself grinding harder against his thigh, my movements becoming more frantic as I worked his cock with both hands. I felt like an animal, shameless and needy, using his body to chase the pleasure I was denied.
Mike reached back with one hand and grabbed my bottom, his fingers digging into the welts left by the martinet. I cried out at the sharp pain, but it only intensified the pleasure somehow.
“You’re allowed to squeeze,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “Use those muscles I taught you. Work yourself up.”
I did, clenching my core muscles rhythmically as I humped his leg. The combination of sensations—my hands on his cock, my pussy grinding against him, his fingers gripping my punished bottom—was overwhelming. Tears started streaming down my face, mixing with the shower water. I was sobbing and whimpering, clinging to him as I jerked him off, feeling dominated in a way I’d never experienced before.
This was so different from being bent over and fucked. This was me actively pleasuring him while using his body for my own desperate need, but still completely under his control. The contradiction made my head spin.
“Sir,” I whimpered against his back. “Please, I need to come. May I please come?”
“No,” Mike said firmly, and I felt his hand tighten on my punished bottom, making me gasp. “You’re not allowed to come anymore tonight.”
“Please,” I sobbed, my hips still moving desperately against his thigh even as I continued stroking his cock. “Sir, please, I need it so badly?—”
“I know you do.” His voice was thick with his own arousal, but his command remained absolute. “But I want you to wake up needy tomorrow. Desperate. Aching for it. Because tomorrow is when I’m going to open your pussy and finally fuck you there.”
A fresh wave of tears spilled down my cheeks at his words. The promise of what was coming—finally being fully deflowered by this man who owned me so completely—sent a confusing mix of terror and longing through my core. But the denial, the knowledge that I would have to wait another whole night in this state of desperate arousal, felt almost cruel.
“Keep stroking me,” he commanded, his breathing getting ragged. “Make me come, sweetheart. Show me what a good girl you are.”
I worked his cock with renewed desperation, my hands sliding along his length with firm, steady strokes. My hips continued grinding against his thigh without permission, unable to stop even though I knew I couldn’t have the release I craved. The sound of the water, my own sobbing, and Mike’s increasingly rough breathing filled the steamy air.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just like that. Fuck, your hands feel so good.”
His fingers dug harder into my welts and I cried out, the pain mixing with the denied pleasure in a way that made my head spin. I felt his cock pulse in my grip, getting even harder, and I knew he was close.
“I’m going to come,” he growled. “Keep going, don’t stop?—”
With a deep grunt, he climaxed, his whole body tensing as I felt the hot spurts coat my hands. I kept stroking him through it, milking every last drop from his magnificent cock, feeling a strange sense of pride despite my own unfulfilled need.
When his breathing finally slowed, he turned around to face me. His hands cupped my tearstained cheeks, and he kissed me gently.
“Clean me up,” he murmured. “On your knees, this time.”
I knelt in the shower, the water still cascading over both of us, and carefully washed his softening cock. My touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as I cleaned away every trace of his release. I kissed the tip, over and over, as if to thank his penis for degrading me. The act of service felt sacred somehow, like I was performing a ritual that bound me even more completely to him.
When I finished, Mike helped me to my feet and turned off the water. He grabbed a thick towel and began drying me tenderly. His hands moved over my body with care, patting my skin dry, paying special attention to my punished bottom. Every gentle touch was a stark contrast to the brutal way he had whipped me and fucked me.
He knows what I need. He really does.The thought brought a lump to my throat.
Then, as he lowered my nightgown over my head, covering me up at last, my mind went to what he had said about the next day. About not making a fuss about wearing the microkini again, because…
Because he wanted to show off the state of my bottom after my whipping. I closed my eyes, concentrating on not picturing it, wishing it away. Instead, I saw myself, my welted ass cheeks completely exposed as I walked down the path to the beach. My pussy clenched so hard I had to bite my lip.
Mike lay down, still naked, his huge cock at last at rest, but still a sight so naughty that I had to stare down at the carpet as I followed his beckoning hand to bed. He cuddled me, holding me against his warm, strong body. I whimpered a little at the feeling of his manly lap against my punished bottom.
“Shh,” Mike murmured in my ear. “You pleased me so much, Laura. Thank you.” He turned my face to his and kissed me gently.
I fretted a little as I thought of the next day, but my pride in his praise sent me off to sleep, putting off to tomorrow all the complexity of what it meant to belong to him. As I drifted off, though, I thought I heard him say something that I didn’t think he could really have said. I thought I heard him whisper, “I love you.”
