Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Something about the sight of that enormous manhood had brought a sort of barrier into my mind. Nor did Ivan’s menacing, up-thrusting cock raise that barrier all on its own. Ivan had followed my first, enforced glimpse of his aroused penis with the placement of his hand on my hip, turning me peremptorily around. He meant, it had come clear to me in a heated flash of lewd insight, to inspect the untried, virgin receptacles he had just acquired for his thrusting cock.
I knew I should simply obey my master, and that disobedience would only make for a harsher punishment when he decided to begin disciplining me—as he had already informed me he would soon do. That knowledge, in the moment, made no difference at all. I understood, even as I pushed back against Ivan’s hand and refused to bend over in front of him, that I had made a terrible mistake. I even understood that some deep-seated need in me had perversely decided I must make that mistake. Only when I felt Ivan press the cool metal tip of the compliance wand into the small of my back, though, did I realize, with a little sob in my throat, that I wanted my master to punish me.
“Let’s see,” Ivan said, rubbing the wand gently over the skin of my back so that I shivered. “I paid a great deal of money for this device, but I still don’t believe it will actually work. And I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather make you obedient the old-fashioned way.”
I bit my lip, feeling my brow furrow hard. At my sides, my hands clenched into tight fists. In front of my mind’s eye, even though my real eyes stared at the bookshelves full of beautiful leather-bound volumes, that cozy, reassuring sight gave way to the indelible memory of Ivan’s rigid cock: its redness… its length… its girth… the way it had so arrogantly and frighteningly throbbed a little with his heartbeat, and above all the leaping thrill of terror intertwined inescapably with wanton need between my legs.
He had said the old-fashioned way. No more than that, but my mind went on from the command he had given me to fix my eyes on his manhood, to visions filled with terribly, shamefully arousing visions of what the old-fashioned way could mean to a man with limitless power and limitless resources. How he could bend a young woman to his sexual will… how her consent would matter not at all to him… how he could enjoy himself as he chose, with the help of his physical strength and his iron will.
I heard the click of his finger on the activation button and I felt the faint tingle—so slight, both of those sensations, that I hadn’t even noticed them the first time my trainer had applied the wand to my back.
“Bend over and grasp your ankles, girl,” Ivan said.
I bent over. My hands, fists automatically opened, took hold of the knobby flesh and bone of my ankles. I heard a sob come from my chest, the helpless acknowledgment of the wand’s awful effect, the way it drew consent and submission out from their secret hiding places in my mind.
Ivan made a little noise behind me, a soft grunt of surprise and satisfaction.
“They say it works best,” he said speculatively, “when the trainer enforces the lesson with strict punishment.”
I bit my lip hard, trying to keep back the words that wanted to emerge. I recognized the effect from my time in the Pretorian Guard’s so-called care. The wand had generated a sort of haze of compliance around me, making me more likely to obey the man giving commands even when he hadn’t delivered a specific order.
The words came out anyway, with a whimper.
“Yes, Master.”
“Did they whip you often, at the brokerage?” Ivan asked, his voice casual, conversational. Could I hear something else behind the even tone? Real interest, maybe: whether in the brokerage through which the Guard had delivered me to him or in me I couldn’t tell.
“Yes, Master,” I told him, feeling my forehead crease hard.
“Spread your feet wider,” Ivan said. “I want to see your anus better.”
I let out a little sob as I obeyed the lewd command. I had never gotten used to it, during my training: the terrible jolt of need, down there, that accompanied each act of degradation imposed through the wand’s strange operation on my nervous system and my deep psychology.
The masked man who had so brutally introduced me to this world of unwelcome, shameful, and yet absolutely necessary pleasure had made certain I paid attention to this effect: the way that when I felt my master’s hands on my ass, spreading the cheeks roughly with his thumbs to look closely at the tiny secret there, I couldn’t keep my bare, virgin pussy from clenching hard, and warming so intensely that I felt certain Ivan would take notice right away.