“The app,” he said simply, turning the screen so I could see.
My face went instantly hot. It was the SA app, showing a graph with multiple colored lines that spiked and dipped in patterns I didn’t fully understand. But I recognized enough to know what it was tracking: my arousal, my stress levels, my physical responses to everything that had happened.
“See this?” Mike pointed to a purple line that had been climbing steadily. “This is your baseline arousal over the past few days. It’s getting higher. Your body is learning to stay ready for me.”
I buried my face in my arms, mortified. Of course he’d been monitoring the data. Of course he knew exactly how my body was responding to every degrading thing he did to me.
“And this spike here,” he continued, his finger tracing a sharp upward jump on the screen, “was when you saw the other woman with marks on her bottom. Your arousal jumped twenty percent in about thirty seconds.”
“Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t…”
“Don’t what? Tell you the truth about yourself?” His voice was gentle but firm. “You got turned on seeing another woman who’s been disciplined. Another submissive who belongs to her master. Because it made you feel less alone.”
I couldn’t deny it. The evidence was right there on the screen, my body’s betrayal documented in cold data. But hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way that terrified me.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mike said, setting his phone aside. “It’s amazing, actually. You’re accepting what you are. Who you are.”
I wanted to argue, to insist that I wasn’t really like this, that it was just the circumstances or the training or something I could eventually overcome. But the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, in that hot, dark place I’d been trying to ignore my whole life, I knew he was right.
“I want to go in the water,” I heard myself say. Maybe I could hide there, submerged, away from the stares and the terrible exposure.
“Good idea,” Mike said, standing and offering his hand. “The salt water will sting a bit, but then it’ll feel good on your bottom.”
My face blazed at his casual mention of my welts, but I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. The walk to the water felt endless, and I was acutely aware of every person we passed. An older man looked up from his book and his eyes lingered on my bottom for a moment too long. A group of younger guys by the volleyball net definitely noticed, one of them elbowing his friend and gesturing in my direction.
But there were also smiles. A woman about my age caught my eye and gave me an encouraging nod, as if she understood something about my situation that I didn’t yet fully grasp myself.
The water was warmer than I expected when we waded in. Mike was right—when it first touched my welted bottom, I gasped at the sharp sting. But after a few seconds, the salt water seemed to soothe the marks, and the buoyancy of the ocean made me feel lighter somehow. Less exposed.
Mike pulled me deeper, until the water reached my chest, and then wrapped his arms around me from behind. The position was becoming familiar—his solid chest against my back, his breath warm on my neck, his obvious arousal pressing against me. But this time there were people all around us, families playing in the shallows, couples floating nearby. The knowledge that we were being so intimate in public made my face burn even as it sent a thrill through my core.
“I’m proud of you,” Mike murmured in my ear. “You’re behaving yourself so well.”
The patronizing praise made my chest tighten with emotion. I leaned back against him, letting the gentle waves rock us, and for a moment I felt almost at peace. The sun sparkled on the water, the volcanic cliffs rose dramatically in the distance, and I was held in the arms of a man who saw me—really saw me—in a way no one ever had before.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not entirely sure what I was thanking him for. For the trip? For the discipline? For forcing me to face the parts of myself I’d been hiding from?
His arms tightened around me. “In an hour or so,” he said quietly, his lips brushing my ear, “I’m going to take your virginity properly. I’m going to open that sealed little pussy and claim what belongs to me.”
My knees went weak at his words, and only his grip kept me upright. The promise hung between us, terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. I’d been thinking about it constantly since Nurse Samuels sealed me—the moment when he would finally push inside, when I would truly become his in every way.
“Will it hurt?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.
“Yes,” Mike said honestly. “Especially at first. The seal has made you even tighter than you were naturally. But you’re going to take it anyway, because you’re my good girl. And by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to love having my cock in your pussy just as much as you loved it in your ass.”
CHAPTER 28
Mike
Laura shuddered against me. I could practically feel her sealed pussy clench at my crude words. I tightened my grip on her waist as another wave rocked us gently. The ocean around us was full of families, couples, people going about their normal beach day while I stood here promising to deflower the girl I owned.
“Please,” she breathed, and I felt her whole body trembling. “Sir, I’m scared.”
“I know.” I kissed the side of her neck, tasting salt water and sunscreen. “But you’re going to take the cock anyway, aren’t you?”
Even from behind, I could feel the rush of heat to her face, and as I raised my head I could see how red the side of her cheek had just become.
“Or,” I murmured, “am I going to have to whip you again before I fuck you?”
