Shameful Reformation – Shamefully Courted Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
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“Shh, Grace, darlin’,” he murmured from high above me. I bowed my head between my elbows, resting my forehead in the softness of the comforter. I closed my eyes, and I felt my body yield as if of its own accord entirely. I arched my back a little more and pushed backwards, though it made my face burn with the immodesty of it.

Cal moved his right hand to my shoulder and his left to my hip. I had a moment of tummy-crawling panic, and then I felt his hands tighten their grip and his hips thrust hard. The huge shaft inside me tore through the tender barrier of my virginity. I screamed with the flash of pain, but the scream itself seemed to make it begin to fade almost instantly. I felt the rough denim of Cal’s jeans against my paddled bottom, I felt the fullness of my pussy with my future husband’s rigid penis, and I whimpered softly at the knowledge that he had claimed me as his own.

His to fuck. His to use.

He started to move inside me, pulling his manhood out and then thrusting it in again. My body responded as much as the restraint of Cal’s huge hands allowed. I moved my hips, but I could feel, thrillingly, how completely he meant to control me, so as to enjoy my vagina exactly as he pleased. He would choose the rhythm of his fucking, and he would choose the depth to which he pressed his massive cock inside the sheath nature had made for it between my thighs.

Cal growled in the back of his throat with every deep thrust. I shuddered at the sound. I could tell by sheer animal instinct that it represented pure, aggressive, dominant pleasure. Something about the way it rumbled all the way through his body, so that I could feel it even through the stout fabric that covered his muscular lap, told me he liked fucking me. A lot.

“So tight, Grace, darlin’,” he said, the growl becoming words—dirty words that made me clench around him. “Such a sweet little puss.”

Another climax, a smaller one, shot through me, making me buck against his strong hands. When I felt him restraining me again, more strongly, fighting me and easily winning the battle to keep my pussy exactly where he wanted it, yet one more orgasm started to build inside me, and I sobbed just at the foreshocks of its beginnings.

Cal spoke again in that growly murmur. He said, with a sort of politeness that at the same time reinforced his absolute mastery of my body, “I’m going to need to fuck you hard, now, darlin’.”

I cried out, because I could sense how big the next climax would be, how intensely I would come on my master’s thrusting manhood. I had thought he had already fucked me hard, but when I felt the driving of his hips, the surging of his cock inside me, become deeper and faster, I understood what fucking really meant—to a man like Cal, at least.

I screamed, and I came. I felt like a rag doll as my future husband slammed his rigid penis into my no-longer-virgin pussy, pressing my face more firmly into the mattress with each thrust. I felt the continuation of my punishment, the extended lesson in the way a dominant man uses a naughty girl after disciplining her.

Time stopped having a meaning: I seemed to become entirely the observer, letting my body feel the pleasure too intense, too mingled with discomfort really to enjoy—but in that lack of enjoyment lay a new level of submission that made me happy. I felt like I could see Cal fucking me, see the stern look on his face as he gazed down on his hardness, with the evidence of my defloration on it, surging in and out of my pussy—his pussy, from this moment forward.

When he stopped and withdrew his cock, I whimpered a little, but the sound seemed to come from far away. I heard him as if from somewhere in the clouds.

“I’m going to put it in your butt, now, darlin’,” Cal said in a voice so authoritative that it sent a shiver down my spine. “And I’m gonna come in there. I want to make sure I claim all of you tonight.”

Then he did something that made a sound I couldn’t quite place. I looked back over my shoulder, my lower lip between my teeth, anxious about what I would see, and I realized the nature of the little noise: Cal had his hand in front of his mouth, cupped. He had spit into his palm, and as I watched he started to lower it. My incomprehension became understanding, and I felt my limbs shudder with shame even as heat spread from my suddenly too-empty pussy.

My face puckered in an odd kind of embarrassment, to have seen what a dominant does when he needs to get a girl’s anus ready for him. I closed my eyes and turned my burning face back to the comforter as I felt my future husband start to spread the saliva over the tiny pucker of my smallest hole. I felt my forehead crease hard, because I noticed, in the racing thoughts of my roiling mind, that Cal had never felt more like the man I would marry than he did right then.


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