Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Please,” Debbie whimpered on screen, “oh… please…” The ambiguity of the word made my breath catch, my fingers pressing harder through the thoroughly soaked fabric.
“Good girls learn to accept inspection gracefully,” Ruth said, stroking Debbie’s hair while Abe added a second finger, stretching her carefully. “This is for your own good, sweetheart. Your future husband will expect you to be properly trained.”
The camera angle shifted, showing Abe’s face—that expression of detached concentration that reminded me so viscerally of Scott examining me in his office. My back arched off the bed as the memory merged with what I watched, as Abe’s fingers pumped steadily in and out of Debbie’s virgin pussy while she sobbed into the couch cushions.
“She’s close,” Abe observed clinically. “Her vaginal walls are beginning to flutter. Should we allow it, Ruth?”
“Not yet,” Ruth replied, and both sets of hands withdrew, leaving Debbie gasping and trembling. “She needs to learn that her pleasure comes only when permitted.”
The scene cut to later that evening. Debbie knelt in the corner of what appeared to be the master bedroom, still in the white dress but now with her hands clasped behind her back. She faced the bed where her foster parents were beginning their nightly routine, Abe reading while Ruth brushed her hair at the vanity.
“Are you watching, Debbie?” Abe asked without looking up from his book. “You need to understand what’s expected in a marriage.”
What followed was almost too much. Ruth moved to the bed, removing her robe to reveal a mature but well-maintained body. She positioned herself on all fours while Abe set aside his book with deliberate calm. The camera captured Debbie’s face—the flush spreading down her neck, the way she bit her lip, the unmistakable arousal in her dilated pupils as she watched her foster father mount his wife.
My fingers worked frantically now, pushing the soaked lace aside just enough to find direct contact with my swollen clit. The sounds from the tablet—Ruth’s moans, Abe’s grunts, Debbie’s soft whimpers from her corner—filled the bedroom as my own climax built with shameful intensity.
“Do you see how she takes it?” Abe asked Debbie conversationally, even as he pounded into his wife. “This is what good wives do. They submit completely to their husband’s needs.”
That did it. My orgasm crashed over me just as Ruth cried out on screen, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure mixed with burning humiliation. I pressed my free hand over my mouth to muffle my scream, my hips bucking against my hand as the intensity of it overwhelmed me completely. The tablet slipped from my other hand, landing on the bed beside me as I rode out the aftershocks, my whole body trembling.
When I finally caught my breath, the video had ended, replaced by the NMB menu screen. My panties were utterly drenched, soaked through with evidence of my shameful response. With shaking hands, I peeled them off, the blue lace clinging to my sensitive flesh. The scent of my arousal filled my nostrils. I bit my lip, considering for a moment, terribly tempted but feeling my face heat to furnace level as I thought about the possibility of Scott watching me do what it had just occurred to me to do.
With a little whimper I gave in. I looked closely at the cotton-lined gusset of the panties, and saw how my need and my self-pleasure had stained them. As if in slow motion, my hands brought them closer and closer to my face, until I could sniff them up close, my cheeks burning like the sun at the smell of my naughtiness, my helpless lust at the sight of poor Debbie’s initiation into the New Modesty.
My breathing had sped up, my heart had begun to race. With a shudder, I fetched one of the zip-lock bags that someone had—at Scott’s instruction, of course—left on the nightstand, along with a marker to write on the white space provided. I put the panties inside, closed the seal, and carefully labeled the bag ‘Debbie’s Arrival’ with the date.
I stared at the panties in their transparent container for a moment, this physical proof of my degradation that I would have to hand to Scott on Friday. The thought made fresh heat pool in my pussy despite the orgasm I’d just experienced. I had gotten through the first video, but I had no idea how I could do this tomorrow, and then the day after—and then meet with Scott to go through it all.
On the other hand… as my body began to relax and my memories, shameful though they were, of the video and my reaction to it, began to work their way into my mind, I realized that the next part of my assignment made a new sort of sense to me. I did have something to say about what I’d watched.