Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I watched in mortified fascination, my heart racing, as he brushed the adhesive down the seam, the sensation both strange and intimate. Every stroke felt like a declaration of my submission, binding me not only physically to the whims of my sadistic captor, but also somehow conceptually, as my mind absorbed the degrading meaning of the procedure.
“Feel this, Sophia,” Marcus murmured, his voice low and suddenly almost tender, “Understand your place.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of the moment. I felt laid bare, every layer of pride and defiance stripped away, leaving only raw degradation in its wake.
“Good girl,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
I looked down at the little line of my sealed pussy, hot shame shooting through my whole body as I saw how strange it looked—how… owned. With the angle into which the stirrups had put me, I could even see the wrinkled pink button of my anus, where Marcus had trained me, and used me, with such rigor. The thought that Delacroix would fuck me there tonight sent my tummy into a panicked somersault.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “I need to—” My bladder had somehow started to act up again, as if my body wanted to ensure my total humiliation.
“All in due time,” he replied, releasing the restraints with a practiced efficiency. He took my leash and helped me up, my legs shaky and unsteady beneath me.
He led me back towards the bathroom. The journey felt interminable, each step tugging strangely on the terrible seal between my thighs, making me newly conscious of my fate.
“Relieve yourself,” he ordered once we were inside, his eyes never leaving mine. The humiliation felt unbearable as I positioned myself over the toilet, feeling the pee make its way out of the small opening he had left me. Hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sense of degradation that flooded my very being.
“Good,” Marcus said softly, his gaze still fixed on me. “Remember this moment, Sophia. Remember to whom you belong.”
After I had washed my hands, he took a long, flat cardboard box from his pocket, and opened it. Inside I saw white lace. He removed a bra, and then a tiny pair of thong panties.
“Put these on,” Marcus said, his voice steady and commanding as he presented me with the pretty white lingerie. The contrast between the delicate fabric and the harsh reality of my situation was jarring; the revealing panties and the pretty bra felt like both a reinforcement and a mockery of my current predicament. A bride would wear these things, and wasn’t I a perverse, degraded kind of bride tonight?
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I took the lingerie from his outstretched hand. My mind raced with conflicting thoughts. How could something so innocent-looking, so bridal be part of this nightmare? The white lace felt soft against my fingers, yet its purpose was anything but gentle.
I hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Marcus. His eyes seemed unwavering, expectant. There was no room for defiance here, only submission. I slipped the thong up my legs, the fabric clinging to my skin in a way that made me acutely aware of my own vulnerability. When I felt the gusset come up against my sealed pussy, I bit my lip and whimpered softly. The bra followed, its delicate straps digging into my shoulders as I fastened it behind my back.
“Good,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving me. “Now, let’s go.”
He led me at last back to Delacroix’s bedroom. My heart pounded in my chest as we approached the ornate door that loomed ahead like a portal to my utter abasement.
As we stepped inside, the opulence of the room overwhelmed me in a way it hadn’t before. The rich fabrics that draped the bed, the scent of expensive cologne that hung in the air… all of it seemed to strike me more forcefully because I knew what would happen here, and that I couldn’t avoid it. I would be whipped. I would be used in the most degrading ways. I had no choice.
Marcus guided me to the headboard, his grip firm but not cruel. He produced a set of leather cuffs from a cabinet in the corner, and I swallowed hard, knowing what was coming next.
“Hands,” he ordered, and I raised them obediently. “No,” Marcus said. “Behind you.”
I looked at him with knitted brows, my tummy crawling.
“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” he said calmly. “Turn around and put your hands behind you.”
I bit my lip, feeling my little breasts heave in the lacy bra with my panicked breaths. I turned and put my hands back, offering them to Marcus.
The warm leather encircled my wrists. He buckled them into place with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. Then, as I tried to control the shaking in my limbs, he unclipped the leash from my collar and I felt him clip it to the cuffs. I turned halfway around to see him tying the end of the leash to a post on the headboard, a fixture clearly intended for the purpose just like the post on the chair in the training room.