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Buying the Virgin

The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Thirty-Five

I turn the vibe on, to a low setting, tracing my outline through the dampening fabric. Then pulling the crotch to one side, I make a show of sliding it inwards.

My Master sits silently, watching me from his desk, chin propped on his hand, his expression unamused.

Standing suddenly, he strides across the room and grabs me by a wrist, pulling me up, then propels me forwards, through the door of the mirrored room. Leaning me over the end of the bed, he pushes me down, roughly.

“Bend over.”


“Do as you’re told. Bend over.”

Beginning to worry, I lean over the foot of the bed. My Master extracts cuffs from a drawer; not the usual fur-lined, leather cuffs I am accustomed to, but plain, steel cuffs which click tightly shut around my wrists, and then around the bedposts.

He shoves my ankles apart; again, no gentleness, and, from the same drawer, takes out a spreader bar, snapping the cuffs closed around my ankles, forcing them wide apart.


“Spread ‘em Charlotte…. wider….”

My ankles are stretched far apart, much wider than I am used to. Hips aching a little, I totter, and would fall were I not supported by the bed footer.

My Master stands behind me, pushes up my skirt, his hands massaging my lower back and butt. They linger over my butt cheeks, and he trails fingers between over my pussy and clit. His mere touch makes me gasp and wriggle, but I know there is something amiss. There is a jerk and a tug, then another, as with shock I realise that he has simply ripped off my panties.

A single finger hovers around my rapidly swelling clit, circling it, revolving, and my pussy warms and moistens. But although the action is so like Michael’s of only a few hours ago, I sense a different intent.

From behind me, my Master leans over, his chest resting over my spine. “Charlotte, this is what you wanted. But this is going to be about my pleasure, not yours….”

I do not understand what my Master is saying to me, but try to dismiss it, as he kneels behind me, fingers parting my cheeks, opening my swelling folds, displaying my core.

I know what he is doing. He has asked me several times to open myself for him, to display my glistening lips for his enjoyment, as it heats and flows under his attentions. I picture him, behind me, enjoying the view inside my folds as he prepares to fix his lips around my gaping pussy.

As I anticipate, his fingers stretch me open, displaying my welling core, before, after an experimental probe of my pussy, the fingers glide to my clit, flicking, manipulating, squeezing gently.

Panting now, my breath coming quickly, and a flush of arousal spreading up my belly and breasts, I think of my Master’s warm tongue and mouth slipping over my lips and bud. His face is close now and as his tongue skims over my pussy, I gasp and shudder.

My pussy is flowing, hot and free, my clit, quivering in anticipation, and deep inside, the promise of climax vibrates through me.

My Master’s tongue weaves circles around my clit, probing, lapping, licking and, with a shudder, my orgasm arising, I start to moan. To get this twice in a day; how much more could I ask for?

“Did I give you permission to cum?”


A little uncertainly, “No Master. You didn’t.”

“You will not allow yourself to climax until I instruct it.”

How do I do that?

“No, Master. I’ll try.”

“You will do better than try. You will not allow yourself to climax.”

His tongue swirls inside my lips, lapping over my clit, working its magic over my engorged vulva.copy right hot novel pub

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