Page 16 of The Count

I was lying. I did know and I knew that he knew I did too.

“This right here, little girl. This soaking wet little pussy tells me everything I need to know,” he explained. My clit throbbed in response to every single syllable. Without meaning to, I pressed more firmly against his fingers.

I arched my back, inadvertently spreading my legs.

He took advantage of the opportunity and slapped my pussy with the flats of his fingers. I yelped, the sting from his hand instantaneous and terrible.

“This needy little pussy is going to have to wait though. Bad girls who need very shameful lessons have to be properly punished first,” he stated.

My burning pussy throbbed hotter, stinging from his palm and pulsing with need more powerful than I had ever known. His fingers brushed against my bottom again and I bit my lip, nervous and confused and so aroused that I could hardly stand it.

I stiffened when his knuckles glided up and down the cleft of my ass. I tried to keep still and be obedient. Maybe if I did what he wanted, he would forget about all this and let me go to bed.

I glanced back, wanting to see his face. He was staring at my backside, and he chose that single moment to spread my bottom open.

The raw desire in his gaze nearly undid me. Now that I knew he was looking, there would be no hiding from this. There would be no denying that he was simply doing this to shame me, that there was a part of him that wanted to do this to me, and I didn’t know how to handle that.

It was terrifying and seductive all at the same time.

“I’ve neglected this tight virgin hole for long enough,” he observed, and my entire body tensed at his words.

“You can’t…”

“I can, bad girl.”

The truth was I knew he was right. I wasn’t going to tell anyone that he’d spanked me. I wasn’t going to tell a single soul that my pussy had turned into a puddle when he punished me, and I most certainly was going to keep the fact that I wanted him to fuck me after all that my own little secret.

He maneuvered behind me, getting in between my legs, and forcing me to remain open for him in a way that deliberately displayed my pussy rather salaciously. I wanted to hate it, but deep down I knew that I enjoyed it far too much.

Something must be wrong with me. I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

I wanted his touch back in between my thighs. I wanted his cock even more.

“It’s time, little girl.”

I should have been more afraid when he said those words, but the only thing I could fathom was his touch and what he’d do to me after that. My bottom still ached, but it was only heightening my desire.

I was starting to feel brave again.

A cold wet thing pressed against my bottom hole and all other thoughts fled from my mind, washed away in an instant. A quiet gasp fled my lips and before I could push up against the table, his hand was against my back, holding me in place again.

He was really going to put the gingerinsideme.

I hadn’t actually believed he would until that very second. It had been some distant make-believe possibility that he wouldn’t actually do it, that it was happening to some faraway person in some fictional sordid fantasy that was never supposed to be true.

This wasn’t a dream, or a wayward threat made in jest to remind me to do as I was told.

This wasreal.

For some reason, my brain hadn’t processed that information until that moment and now I didn’t really know what to do with it.

There wasn’t anything I could do. That piece of ginger was going inside my asshole whether I liked it or not.

The tip of the ginger had warmed a little. He increased the pressure and it felt so foreign that I could not for the life of me relax. I tensed, fighting against its entry even though I knew it was inevitable.

It slid inside me with ease, even as I struggled. Even though it hurt.

I’d never been stretched open like this, and my bottom hole burned with a deep aching sensation that hurtled up and down my spine and all the way to the tips of my toes.

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