Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“There we are,” I murmured, my voice low and soothing now that the punishment was complete. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, but I felt the tension in her body ease slightly at my gentler tone. I allowed my hand to stroke her bottom, caressing the punished flesh with feather-light touches. Camille shivered under my ministrations, a small gasp escaping her lips.
Slowly, deliberately, I let my hand drift lower, fingers trailing along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. I could feel the heat emanating from her pussy even before I pushed my hand in and forced her legs apart so that I could touch her there exactly as I chose. When my fingers finally brushed against her pussy lips, I found them slick with arousal.
Camille whimpered in shame as I began to fondle her, my fingers exploring the sensitive furrow and the entrance to her needy sheath with practiced ease. I slid one finger along her slit, gathering her wetness, then circled her clit with a gentle touch. Her reaction was immediate and unmistakable—a sharp intake of breath, a helpless arching of her back, a tremor running through her entire body.
“Please,” she whispered, though whether she was begging me to stop or continue, I couldn’t be sure. My long experience told me that the girl didn’t know herself.
I continued my intimate exploration, marveling at how responsive she was to my touch. With just a few skilled caresses, I had her teetering on the edge of orgasm, her body taut as a bowstring, quivering with need. Her pussy clenched around my probing fingers, desperate for fulfillment.
I stilled my movements, holding Camille at the precipice of pleasure, but denying her release. Her hips moved desperately against my hand, seeking the friction that would push her over the edge. I felt her pussy pulse around my fingers, greedy and desperate.
“Such a responsive little slut,” I murmured, loud enough for Mary to hear through the surveillance system. “Your body betrays you, Camille. No matter what defiance your mind attempts, your cunt knows what it needs.”
Beneath me, Camille shuddered, a sob of humiliation and desire escaping her throat. I could almost feel her conflicted emotions—the shame at her arousal warring with the desperate hunger for release. It was a battle I’d witnessed countless times during my years with the Guard, yet something about these two young women struck me as exceptional.
As I held Camille suspended in that exquisite agony between pain and pleasure, I reflected on what I’d observed of both girls. Their responses seemed to be remarkably similar—the way their bodies yielded to domination, how quickly their defiance gave way to submission, how their arousal built so rapidly under firm handling. It spoke of a natural proclivity, yes, but there was something more… something cultivated.
Beaumont was skilled, certainly, but the level of sexual responsiveness these girls displayed suggested training that predated their time with him. Mary’s eagerness to please me sexually, her instinctive offering of her anus rather than her vagina—these weren’t the behaviors of a recently corrupted innocent. And now Camille, struggling against her own arousal yet unable to prevent her body’s betrayal—this, too, felt like the product of sophisticated conditioning.
I withdrew my fingers from Camille’s dripping sex, leaving her whimpering with need. Her pussy was exquisitely sensitive, her clit swollen and begging for attention. The ease with which I’d brought her to the edge spoke volumes. These weren’t simply frightened captives desperate to please; they were submissives whose bodies had been trained to respond to dominance with almost Pavlovian precision.
Carefully I wiped the girl’s need off on her upper thigh, feeling her shudder at the humiliation. I took my handheld from the breast pocket of my jacket and tapped out a message to my boss, the head of the New York Mithraeum.
Pater, I’d like permission to begin initiating the two assets we picked up from GS yesterday.
Mary
I watched in confusion and dismay as Leo Marmareus helped Camille rise from his lap. Her face was streaked with tears, her bottom a bright, angry red that made my own flesh tingle in sympathy. With firm hands on her shoulders, he guided her to kneel on the bed, pressing her face down into the covers while keeping her bottom raised high.
Marmareus looked at the camera, then adjusted Camille’s position so that her bottom and her pussy and even the tiny bud of her anus were on display for me. I swallowed hard at the dismaying implication, that he wanted me to observe closely as he humiliated my friend.
“What is he doing?” I whispered to myself, pressing closer to the view screen as if I could somehow reach through it to Camille.
My confusion deepened as I watched Marmareus approach a section of the stone wall that looked no different from the rest. He pressed his palm against it, and to my astonishment, a panel slid open, revealing a hidden cabinet. From within, he withdrew what appeared to be a collection of leather items: a collar, a belt, and various cuffs.