The Strap-On, Part Two
I tumbled backward without the slightest scrap of resistance.
The plush bed swallowed the impact, but that was not the problem. As my body fell, the dildo buried in my ass slipped halfway free.
"Hhhk?!"
A shrill cry tore out of me at the sensation of it scraping along my inner walls on the way out. My startled hole clenched down hard, clamping the shaft in a desperate grip.
Katrina stared up at Veronica, bewildered. Veronica was looking down at her with a face gone sharp and vicious, fury written plainly across it. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had been smiling so slyly only moments before. Her expression had gone cold as winter glass.
"I told you to roll your hips. Who said you could just sit there?"
Her voice was ice. She picked Katrina's performance apart without mercy. The warm, coaxing tone she had used while sipping wine and drawing her in was gone without a trace.
"I gave you a chance. You should have used it. All you did was twitch your ass in place?"
"I—I'm sorry..."
"You're sorry? Then you need to be punished."
As she said it, Veronica seized both of my legs and hoisted them onto her shoulders. My thighs fell open into a wide M, and my ass lifted off the mattress, hanging in empty air. In a single motion the position flipped from cowgirl to missionary — I was pinned underneath, and she had every angle she needed to drive into me as she pleased. One arm locked around my legs, leaving me no room to twist away or flee. It was a humiliating posture besides: my cock, glossy with pre-cum, and the hole still gripping the dildo were both on full, helpless display.
The instant she declared it, Veronica slammed her hips forward. A wet, brutal smack rang out. The dildo that had been half-escaped punched back into me in a single stroke, burying itself to the root. My ass burned as if it had been set on fire.
"Ghhk... haaagh...!"
I had taken the thing to the hilt only minutes ago, but with Veronica's hips behind it, it drove somewhere deeper still. A groan tore out of me as if I had been run through with a spear.
"Aren't you curious," she whispered, lowering her mouth to my ear, "about a woman's climax? Not the kind a man has. The kind a woman does."
She shifted her grip, settling in where she could thrust properly, and then her hips began to move in earnest. It was nothing like the clumsy rolling I had managed. This was a different order of thing entirely.
"Nngh— nnhh..."
Smack. Smack.
The ridge of Veronica's hipbone cracked against my ass. Wet flesh met wet flesh and made a filthy, rhythmic sound, and on every beat that enormous dildo plunged into me and drew back out. The inside of my ass felt scorched, as if it were tearing. Every sensation ought to have been ugly. Every sensation ought to have hurt.
Instead my body burned hotter, like a log catching in a hearth. My brain, traitor that it was, poured out whatever chemistry would make this feel even better, and I sank into it.
"Hahng, hhh— nnh! Sis— sis, waiit—!"
"Why? This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
She gathered me tighter and drove her hips harder. When she slammed in, the dildo crushed against my prostate; when she pulled back, the sudden emptiness where it had been pressing my guts left a strange, swimming pleasure in its wake. I could do nothing but rock with her, helpless.
Me underneath, legs spread like a bitch, getting fucked. Her above, looking down, taking her time with it. It did not feel bad. It felt good — and the satisfied smile she wore while she used my hole was somehow both mortifying and wonderful, and I was ashamed of myself for thinking so, so I turned my face away.
Veronica seemed to take that as something else entirely.
"Wait. Where do you think you're looking?"
A rough hand caught my jaw and wrenched my head back around. Her twisted, flushed face filled my vision.
"Mmph— mmphh...!"
I had no time to explain. Veronica's mouth crashed over mine. A hot tongue pushed in, and our saliva mixed with a wet, obscene sound. I could not breathe, and she did not stop. I tried to shove her off. I thrashed. It did nothing. If anything, she cupped the back of my skull with one hand and kissed me harder — and through all of it, her hips never stopped fucking my ass.
She plundered my mouth for a long time before she finally drew back. A thin silver thread stretched between us and broke.
"You should be looking at your Master."
Master.
My shoulders jerked at the word. A week ago it would have filled me with violent revulsion. Now I was nodding, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Yes. Master. I already belonged to Veronica. I had nowhere to go back to, and my body had become something that could not go anywhere without her. There was no reason left to flinch from the word.
My obedience curved Veronica's mouth into a look of deep satisfaction.
"That's right. That's how it should be."
She raked sweat-damp hair back from her face as she said it. Those red eyes looking down at me were bright with arousal, and what they held was a bitch in heat, smeared with tears and spit. Pleased, she rolled her hips even wider. Her full breasts heaved with the violence of the motion, rising and falling.
Thud. Smack!
"Hngh, hh— haah!"
The pulse in my lower belly began to answer her rhythm, resonating with every thrust. A deep, amplified throb climbed my spine and shook my brain along with it. My skull rang. The room spun. Reason went numb, and what remained was the body's raw instinct.
"Harder— hngh— fuck me harder... Master...!"
Shame had been swept away a long time ago, drowned under the tide of pleasure. The boy who had once recoiled from her hand on his cock was gone. In his place was someone shouting to be fucked harder — and not only shouting. I rolled my own hips, greedy for more, and then I went further still, reaching both arms up toward her the way a baby reaches for its mother's milk.
Veronica snorted at the sight, but she bent down and let him take her breast in his mouth. Katrina latched on and sucked as if those breasts, which produced no milk at all, were the most delicious thing in the world.
Watching him, Veronica thought she had trained Katrina well. Was this what it felt like, meeting someone your parents had introduced on a whim and discovering, to your own surprise, that you clicked perfectly?
...Of course, Katrina had not come here for a marriage interview. But if she was satisfied, wasn't that enough?
While Veronica drifted in that thought, Katrina was coming up on the last movement of the piece — climax.
"Haa, haah... I'm gonna come...!"
Something hot was gathering low in my belly, ready to burst. It was close to what I had felt the last time she had wrung a female orgasm out of me, and it was also entirely different.
"I'm really gonna come...!"
My cock was already past its limit, drooling pre-cum in a steady leak, twitching violently. My balls bounced mindlessly in time with her hips.
"Oh? Then I'll let you come."
She heard me and put on a final sprint, whipping her hips like a woman possessed. She drove the dildo into the deepest part of my walls as if she meant to spear a womb that was not there. The pleasure that had been stacking and stacking finally crossed its threshold and detonated.
A cry I could not have named tore through the room. My back arched like a drawn bow, the way the heroine of some filthy comic arches when she breaks. Light flashed white across my vision. And from my cock, instead of cloudy semen, a clear fluid erupted in a fountain. It did not dribble the way piss does. It blasted out the way water blasts from a garden hose. It came hard enough to soak my stomach and splash across Veronica's chest.
"Hic— hhk... hnnngh..."
Veronica watched Katrina come and stilled her hips. He was coming apart the same way he had the last time she had given him a female orgasm — a reaction she never got tired of. Especially that face, melted into such stupid, blissful wreckage. A wicked little impulse crossed her mind, the urge to start moving again just to see it twice. She let it go. If she actually did, he looked liable to die on the spot.
"Hhh... big sister... big sister..."
Katrina clawed at the air, barely holding on to a consciousness that was already slipping. Veronica laughed softly and took his hand. It was only the second time, and he still seemed frightened of blacking out in the aftershock; his fingers clamped down hard. He mumbled something she could not make out, and then he went limp.
Big sister, though.
Not bad at all. She was starting to understand why men were always so desperate to hear a woman call them big brother.
Next time we're alone, I'll make him call me big sister.
Veronica eased Katrina down so he would not wake, then crossed to the desk. With every step, the dildo hanging from the strap-on swayed.
She rang the bell. A moment later, someone knocked from the hall.
"For what purpose did you summon me, my lady?"
"It's fine, Emma. Come in."
Emma opened the door, took one look at her mistress, and froze. She had seen her lady naked before. She had never seen her wearing something that grotesque.
Veronica laughed and unbuckled the strap-on from her hips.
"Haha — I wasn't trying to startle you. Sorry."
"Ah— no, my lady. Forgive me."
"It's nothing much. Would you wash Katrina for me?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"I was going to do it myself, but I'm too tired."
Emma's eyes darted, more flustered now than she had been at the sight of the strap-on.
"Ah, sorry — hold back today, though. I was rather rough with him. He'll be exhausted."
"O-of course, my lady!"
Whatever she had been thinking, Emma denied it at a volume well above her usual register. Veronica asked her to take care of it and settled onto the sofa to finish what was left of the wine.
Emma hesitated, reading the room, then made her way to the bed with reluctant steps. She slid her arms under Katrina's thighs and back and lifted him — the classic princess carry. A position Katrina would have recoiled from in horror, had he not been unconscious.
On the walk to the bath. While she washed him. In the moment she laid him back down on the bed. Again and again the thought of taking him rose in her, and again and again she crushed it with a will that could only be called superhuman.
...Instead, it is said that faint moans and slick, wet sounds issued from Emma's room that night.