Page 54 of Shamefully Trained

“Yes?”

I flushed so hard I could barely see straight.

“Look at me,” he said.

Oh, no.

I had thought, just a moment earlier, that I could never have looked him in the eye. I swallowed hard.

“Look at me, Alex,” he repeated. “I’ll cane you if I have to, to get your obedience.”

A whimper of fear rose from my chest as I lifted my eyes.

“What kind of girl are you, you little slut?” he asked, his voice hard and his eyes narrow.

“Oh…” I said, because the expression on his face had made me squirm in my chair, and that had made me much too aware of the plug in my anus. “Oh… I’m… I’m…”

The words would not come.

My mouth worked around them, but the sentence remained lodged somewhere between shame and arousal, too revealing to survive contact with air. I stared into his eyes, saw exactly how little sympathy he had for my struggle, and still could not say it.

“No?” he said.

I shook my head once, miserably.

His chair pushed back over the floor with a soft scrape.

I felt the sound in my stomach.

“Stand up.”

I obeyed at once. My knees felt weak. The robe seemed suddenly much too heavy on my body, the belt too tight, the plug too present.

“Take off the robe.”

“Porter… sir…”

His expression did not change. “Now.”

I fumbled with the sash. My fingers barely worked. The thick fabric parted and slid from my shoulders, pooling around my feet. Cool air touched my skin. I stepped out of it because I knew better than to make him tell me again.

“Naked at the table because you couldn’t answer a simple question,” he said quietly. “Come here.”

I went around the corner of the table and stopped where he indicated, between his spread knees. He remained seated, looking up at me in a way that made me feel more exposed than if he had loomed over me. His gaze moved slowly over my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. I tried not to cover myself. I tried not to shift my weight.

He put his hands on my hips and drew me a little closer.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Trembling.”

The tremble turned into a whole body shudder, and a little whining sound from my nose.

His palm slid up and closed around one breast, not roughly, just with complete possession. He weighed it, thumb moving over the nipple until it tightened almost painfully. I let out a little sound I had not meant to make. He did the same to the other, inspecting me as if I belonged to him already in every possible way.

Then his hands moved lower.

He parted me with two fingers and looked directly down at my red-furred pussy. Heat rushed into my face so fast that I almost swayed. He touched the slickness there and held up his fingers between us.

“So wet,” he said. “And all I asked you to do was admit what kind of girl you are.”