Page 35 of Punished and Trained
“Turn her over, Betty,” he commanded with military precision. “On her knees. I want her bottom prepared for fucking.”
The words sent a bolt of terror and shameful anticipation straight through my core. I sobbed as Betty’s hands guided me onto my stomach, my bound wrists twisted awkwardly above my head as she positioned me with my knees drawn up beneath me. The position thrust my bottom high into the air, completely available for the colonel’s pleasure.
“Please, Guardian,” I whimpered into the bedsheets, my voice muffled and desperate. “I need… I need you back inside me… inside my… my cunny. Please don’t…”
“Hush,” Betty said softly, her maternal tone somehow making everything worse as her hands traced the curves of my upturnedbottom. “Your Guardian knows exactly what you need, dear. Trust him to give it to you properly.”
I felt her reach for something on the bedside table, and my stomach clenched with dread as I heard the soft sound of a cap being opened. The cool touch of lubricant against that most private entrance made me jerk against the restraints with a strangled cry.
“Hold still,” Betty commanded gently, her finger beginning to work the slick substance into my tight ring. “You’ve taken your master this way. You know you have.”
But I couldn’t relax. The shame of being prepared so intimately by another woman while her husband watched, the knowledge that my master was likely observing every moment of my degradation, the memory of how it had felt when Prince Hendren had claimed me there—all combined to leave me trembling and sobbing into the sheets.
“She’s fighting it,” Colonel Quinst observed clinically. “Add another finger, Betty. She needs to be opened properly.”
I cried out as my Mistress obeyed her husband, working a second lubricated finger into my resistant passage with patient persistence. The burning stretch made my entire body tense, but Betty’s free hand stroked my lower back in soothing circles.
“There’s a good girl,” she murmured as my body gradually began to accept the intrusion. “You’re learning to yield so beautifully. Your Guardian is going to be so pleased with how well you take him. This little flower will grip the colonel’s cock like a velvet rose.”
The strange image seemed so true and somehow so beautiful in its obscenity that it drew a long, low moan from me. To mymortification and at the same time my relief, I felt myself start to relax the muscles there. Then, much more distressingly to the sense of modesty it seemed I still possessed, I felt myself pushing, opening my bottom in that shameful way that belonged to a different, darker bodily function. My moan became a sob.
The shameful response of my body to Betty’s preparation sent fresh heat into my cheeks. I could feel myself opening for her fingers, my bottom learning to accept the invasion with the same terrible eagerness my sex had shown for masculine dominance—indeed with more obedience than I had shown His Royal Highness.
“Perfect,” Colonel Quinst said with evident satisfaction. “That bottom is ready for fucking now, Betty. Move aside.”
I felt the mattress shift as he positioned himself behind me, his large hands gripping my hips with possessive authority. The thick head of his cock pressed against the prepared, but still tiny, dimple of my bottom hole, and I whimpered into the sheets as I felt the tremendous pressure of his invasion beginning.
“Look at me, Viola,” Betty commanded, settling herself cross-legged on the bed so she could see my face. “I want to watch a president’s expression as my husband takes her sweet little bottom.”
I lifted my tear-streaked face from the bedding, meeting her hungry gaze as Colonel Quinst began to push forward with inexorable pressure. The burning stretch was overwhelming—even with Betty’s careful preparation, his massive girth felt impossible to accommodate.
“Oh… oh, no… I…” I gasped, my voice raw with desperation. “I can’t… Guardian. I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his voice a firm command. “You’ve done this before. Your body knows how to yield to a man as it should.”
He continued pressing forward with patient persistence, each inch sending waves of burning sensation through my core. When he finally seated himself completely inside me, his lap against my bottom, I screamed into the sheets, my entire body trembling with the overwhelming fullness.
“Beautiful,” Betty breathed, her eyes fixed on my face with fascination. “Look how she takes you, John. Every inch.”
Colonel Quinst remained still for a moment, allowing my body to adjust to his possession. Then he began to move with the same measured precision he seemed to bring to everything, withdrawing slowly before driving deep again with controlled force.
“Now,” he said, his voice thick with arousal as he established a rhythm, “let’s see how well you can serve your Mistress with your anus full of cock.”
Betty smiled with predatory satisfaction, moving to position herself against the headboard with her legs spread wide. “Come here, Viola. Put that clever mouth to proper use while your Guardian masters your bottom.”
The degrading command sent another surge of shameful heat through me, but I obeyed without hesitation, leaning forward to place my face between Betty’s thighs. Her musky scent filled my senses as I began to serve her with my tongue, each thrust from her husband driving me deeper into her welcoming pussy.
“That’s it,” she gasped, her hands tangling in my hair. “Just like that… oh, you’re such a quick learner…”
The dual sensation was overwhelming—Colonel Quinst’s thick shaft claiming my bottom with increasing intensity while I worked desperately to please his wife with my mouth. I felt completely consumed, used from both ends by these strangers who had taken such total control of my body.
“She’s becoming quite the little slut,” Colonel Quinst observed, his voice strained with arousal as he drove into my bottom with increasing force. “Look how eagerly she serves you while taking my cock in her ass.”
I moaned against Betty’s pussy, the vibrations making her cry out as her thighs trembled around my face. The colonel’s words evoked new humiliation even as my body responded with traitorous enthusiasm to his degrading assessment.
“John,” Betty gasped, her voice breathless as I continued to work my tongue between her folds while her husband claimed my bottom with relentless force. “I think… I think she should be allowed to come. She’s serving so beautifully.”
Colonel Quinst’s rhythm never faltered as he considered his wife’s request, his thick shaft driving deep into my stretched passage with each thrust. “You think she’s earned it?” he asked, his voice carrying that same note of assessment even as his breathing grew rougher in his pleasure.
