Page 82 of For Her Own Good

It makes me smile, and huff a little laugh. Of course he would pick a ridiculous word so I won’t forget it and if I have to say it, some of the tension will automatically be broken. “Penguin.”

“That’s right. Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you.”

I have to bury my face in BB-8 before I find the nerve to respond because, conveniently, once I’m in this headspace, I get embarrassed even more easily. “Top drawer of the nightstand.”

“Up you get, then,” he says, and I push up on my hands until I’m kneeling back, red-faced with my heels digging into my sore bottom. I get a once-over with his assessing gaze.

“I love your outfit, darling, but I’d like you better naked at the moment. Strip off and then get back over my lap.”

I don’t need to be told twice. As he rummages in the drawer, I pull my dress over my head and shimmy out of my undies, leaving my clothes a heap on the floor. And then he’s patting his thigh and I do as he’s asked. The cloth of his pants is a stark contrast to my skin and it makes me feel even more naked, knowing he’s not.

He doesn’t use the lube right away but must set it down. There’s something about the delay that builds anticipation, makes me clench my thighs together. And then his hands are on me again. Same heavy weight at the small of my back, and smooth easy circles over my cheeks with his other hand before he switches to the drag of his fingertips. Whereas he’d stopped close to the top before, he eases a finger further into my cleft and it makes me want to squirm. Beg for more or tell him to stop or, I don’t know, anything besides tolerating this insinuating, teasing motion that makes me think of everything while he’s giving me nothing. Is this his plan? To get me riled up and make me beg? I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.

But no, I think he’s taking his time, exploring and enjoying me. Possibly relishing being allowed to do this. The level of intimacy I have permitted this man is far above any I’ve allowed anyone else, and I think he knows that. Not just is aware of it, but values the trust I place in him. Perhaps enjoys it in the same way I like to soak in his care and attention. Does it make his heart light up with the knowledge that I chose him? Because I have. And would like to know him as intimately as he knows me.

His fingertip skates over my asshole and I want to die a little. Because ohmygod, that is my asshole. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird if there was a nicer word for it, but all the euphemisms I’ve ever heard are cringe-worthy, so asshole it is.

And oh god. He’s so gentle and thorough as he touches me, rubs around my hole and strokes my perineum in a way that renders me into a puddle. Such a secret, small place that can make a person feel so very good and, for me, intensely submissive and vulnerable. And to be handled with such care tells me I’m not mistaken in having put my trust in him. He’s earned it back, with interest.

A good thing too, because his hands leave my body and I’m guessing I know why. A snick of a cap confirms my suspicions, and there are a few beats before he’s touching me again. He warmed the lube between his fingers so I wouldn’t get a shock of cold gel, and I appreciate it.

I also—jeez, what is it about lube that makes everything even filthier? Like, this was getting dirty before, but now with the slickness, it’s more so. Maybe because the prospect of him fingering my ass has gotten that much closer?

“Star? You doing okay? You’re being such a good girl for me, but you’re so quiet I wanted to check.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You like how this feels? Me stroking your tight little arsehole?”

Christ on a cracker. “Yes,” I choke, and he takes pity on me, not demanding more but instead applying a bit of pressure to the aforementioned tight little asshole. Which at once makes me spread my legs in the ache for penetration but also squirm because, oh god.

“That’s a good girl, open up for me, Star. Someday I’m going to get my entire cock inside you here, but today I think I’m just going to finger-fuck your arsehole.”

Filthy, filthy, and I want it.

He takes his time, adding more lube and stroking me, lulling me into comfort with the sensation. It starts to be less strange that he’s touching me here, and almost becomes obvious. Indeed, whywouldn’the touch me here? It feels so freaking good. Every so often, he presses against my hole, murmuring to me, encouraging me, telling me what a good girl I am, and soon he’s pressing with intent. Not a diffuse sort of pressure, but with a purpose to penetrate. To push a finger inside of me.

“Come on, love, let me in. I’m going to make you feel so good, but you have to relax and let me in. That’s it. There’s my good, obedient girl.”

Obedient. If anyone else described me that way, I’d laugh in their face. I have been respectful, dutiful, even, but obedient? That, I shape myself into only for Lowry—and I suppose Jade—and only at discrete times like these.

It’s an odd thing to focus on, to let myself be open in order for Lowry to violate me with a finger. But violate isn’t right. Conquer, perhaps, or breach, but I don’t feel violated. I feel loved.

I’m rewarded by the advance of his finger inside me, still with the same easing stroke, and then he draws back out to apply more lube and press forward inside of me again. Again and again until it’s easy for him to sink his finger into my bottom, all the way to his knuckle, and the strangeness of it has melted away into more attention to how much I enjoy being penetrated by him, having him inside me, the rocking motion of being fucked gently by any part of him.

Which is perhaps why I’ve started to squirm in earnest. Press my hips back to meet his finger, create more of a thrust than a slow stroke. Because I want to get fucked like this, get off like this. I’m so turned on that any modesty I had is gone now.

“Don’t be naughty, little girl. Don’t you dare come yet, or there will be serious consequences.”

The threat of which makes me whimper and clench around him. Part of me wants to be punished. To provoke gentle, loving Lowry into a man who would hurt me more. But I can’t imagine he’d lose control even then. Especially not then. He’s too careful with me. But he also likes to push me.

He applies more pressure to the small of my back, holding me down and making me feel so very at his mercy before his hand is gone and I hear the short clip of the lube bottle opening again.

“You’re going to take two of my fingers and then you’ll be allowed to rub off on my thigh until you come. That’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to stuff your tight little hole as full as it’s ever been and then you’re going to hump my leg until you come like the dirty little girl you are. Understand?”

What has been soothing is suddenly electrified and takes on a different cast.

“No!”

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