“Yes. Slowly. She begged him not to, but he… he just kept pushing it in. The camera showed everything. How her… how her anus stretched around it. How it disappeared inside her, inch by inch.”
“And what were you doing while you watched this, Valerie?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. I tried to pull away from him, but his arm held me firmly against his side.
“Answer me.”
“I was touching myself,” I whispered. “Both… both hands.”
“Both hands.” There was something in his voice, not surprise, but a sharpening of attention. “Tell me where.”
“My right hand was… was between my legs. On my… on my clit. Through my panties.” Each word felt like stripping off a layer of skin. “And my left hand was… It was… you know…”
My voice fell to a whisper as my cheeks burned.
“…behind me.”
The room seemed to contract around us. Chris’s breathing had changed, just slightly—deeper, more deliberate.
“Behind you where?”
A sob tore from my throat. “On my… on my bottom. On my… my anus.” The word came out strangled, barely formed. “I was touching my anus through my panties while I watched Kevin putthe dildo in Stacy’s bottom and I came… I came so hard, Chris, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t?—”
“Shh.” His hand cupped the back of my head, holding me against his chest while I wept.
We stayed like that for a long time—long enough that my sobs subsided into hiccupping little breaths, long enough that the tears dried tacky on my cheeks. Chris’s hand never stopped moving through my hair, slow and rhythmic, and I could feel the patience in him like a physical thing, like the steadiness of the house he’d built around us.
“I need you to tell me something else,” he said finally, his voice low against the top of my head. “What part of it aroused you the most?”
The question sent a bolt of fresh shame through me. I shook my head against his chest.
“Val.” His hand stilled in my hair. “What part?”
“I can’t?—”
“You can. You already told me the hardest parts. This is just one more truth.” His hand resumed its stroking, but I felt his other hand move—felt it settle on my knee, on top of the quilt, warm and heavy. “Was it when Kevin put his finger in her?”
“No,” I whispered. “I mean… that was… but it wasn’t the part that?—”
“Was it the dildo?”
“It was…” I pressed my lips together, trying to organize the chaos in my head. Chris’s hand slid from my knee to my thigh, slippedunder the quilt, moving with a slowness that felt deliberate. Purposeful. “It was the way he did it. The… the ceremony of it.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
His hand gathered the hem of my nightgown under the quilt. I felt the fabric shifting against my legs, being drawn upward, and my breath stuttered.
“The bench,” I said, my voice thin and strange. “How he had it set up in the middle of the room, like… like it was an altar or something. And the way he laid out all the… the implements… on the bed where she could see them. Like he wanted her to understand every single thing that was going to happen to her bottom before it happened.”
“Mm-hmm.” I felt Chris’s hand on my bare thigh, the roughness of his carpenter’s calluses against my skin, and a whimper caught in my throat. His hand traveled upward, pushing the nightgown ahead of it, bunching the modest white cotton around my waist.
“Keep talking,” he said.
“He… he made her kneel on the bench. Made her take the handles. And then he told her to reach back and… and spread herself. That was…” My voice cracked as Chris’s fingers traced the waistband of my panties, dipping just beneath the elastic. “That was when I started to feel it. Really feel it. Because he wasn’t just… he wasn’t just doing something to her. He was making her participate. Making her offer herself to him.”
Chris’s hand slid fully into my panties. I gasped as his fingers found me; the slick, swollen evidence that even recounting this was enough to undo me. His middle finger parted the folds of myinner lips and settled against my clit with unerring precision, as if he’d memorized the map of my body.
“Go on,” he murmured.
“Chris… oh, God…” My hips jerked involuntarily against his hand. “I can’t think when you?—”
“Yes, you can. Tell me about the ceremony. What else made it feel significant?”
