Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
* * *
Anne
I heard a tiny whimper emerge from my throat as my lips made contact with Penelope’s fragrant pussy. The taste of her was different from what I’d expected—though I hadn’t expected anything, not really, because I’d never imagined myself here, kneeling between a woman’s thighs with my mouth on her most intimate place. She tasted warm and faintly salt-sweet and alive, a musk that was nothing like Master Paul’s but carried its own particular intensity, its own demand. The trimmed hair brushed against my upper lip and nose, soft and surprisingly intimate, and beneath it her flesh was swollen and slick and hot against my tongue.
“There,” Penelope breathed, her hand tightening in my hair. “Just like that. Flatten your tongue. Broader strokes. Don’t dart—lick. Long and slow, from the bottom up. You’re not trying to find anything yet. You’re just… tasting.”
I obeyed. My tongue moved in a slow, broad stroke upward through her musky folds, and Penelope’s hips shifted in the chair—a small, clearly involuntary motion that told me I’d done something right. The wet sound my mouth made against her was obscene in the quiet of the office, and I felt my face burn hotter.
“Good,” she murmured. “Now keep going. And keep talking.”
A little whine came from the vicinity of my nose. I sounded like a naughty little girl trying to get out of a difficult task on a technicality. My words, muffled by her sex, came out in a matching petulant tone.
“I… I… can’t talk while I’m—”
Her hand pulled my head back, just far enough that my lips separated from her with a soft, wet sound. Her eyes looked down at me—heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed, mouth curved in that particular smile that seemed both that of a mentor and of a predator.
“Yes, you can,” she said. “You talk, and then you lick. You give me a sentence of the story, and then you put your mouth back on me. Think of it as practice—a girl needs to learn to multitask when she’s pleasing her boss. Now. You were telling me about the spanking. He finished at ten. What happened next?”
She guided my head back down. My lips found her again, and I gave her three long, slow strokes of my tongue before pulling back just enough to speak, my breath panting against her wetness.
“He… he helped me up. Off his lap. And he told me to strip.”
“Back on me,” Penelope instructed. I pressed my mouth to her and licked, tasting her more deeply now. I felt like I was watching another girl, one who found performing cunnilingus an ordinary part of office life. Penelope let out a low, approving hum. “Mmm. You’re a quick study. Did you strip?”
I pulled back. “Yes. I turned away from him and unbuttoned my blouse. And my bra. And then I… I kept rubbing my bottom. I couldn’t stop touching where he’d spanked me, and Melissa—”
“Back down. Tongue on my clit now. You feel that little nub? Higher. Higher. There—yes, right there. Small circles. Gentle. Don’t press too hard.”
I found it—the firm, swollen bead of her clitoris, and I circled it with the tip of my tongue the way she told me to. Penelope’s thigh muscles tensed against the sides of my face, and the sound she made—a low, shuddering exhale through parted lips—sent a pulse of heat between my own legs that made me squirm on my knees.
“Melissa saw me rubbing my bottom,” I continued, pulling back just enough to form the words, my lips brushing Penelope’s flesh as I spoke. “She said it was the… the whole campaign in a single image. And then Darlene lit me, and I had to stand there, naked, while they—”
“Put your mouth back on me when you pause,” Penelope commanded, her voice suddenly harsh and hungry. “Don’t leave me empty, you little slut.”
I licked her. Long, slow, broad strokes alternating with the tight circles on her clit that made her breathing change. My jaw still felt sore from Master Paul—the ache lived deep in the hinge of it, a dull reminder of what his cock had done to me—but this was different. Softer. My tongue moved over yielding flesh rather than rigid hardness, and the rhythm Penelope wanted was gentler, more patient than the brutal pace Master Paul had set.
“Then what?” Penelope asked, her voice thickening.
I pulled back. A thin strand of her wetness connected my lower lip to her folds, and I watched it catch the light from the office window before it broke. “Master Paul told me to put on the baby doll. The pink one. And when I had it on, he… he started to inspect me.”
“Inspect you how?” Her hand in my hair pushed me back down, and I licked her while I gathered the courage to continue.
“He circled me,” I said against her terribly wet pussy. “He touched me through the nightgown. My shoulders. My arms. My breasts.” I gave her clit three tight circles and felt her hips buck. “He lifted the hem and looked at my bottom. At the marks from the spanking. And then he told me to turn around and face him, and he… he looked at my…”