Chapter 15: In Which I Take Sarah’s Last Virginity

I bound Sarah over my favorite device, the bench and stocks where (it already seemed so long ago!) I had taken Alice for the first time. Naturally, Sarah’s bottom was raised in the most delightful manner—slightly lower than I’d raised Alice, for I had in mind a different target. She assumed she was there to be punished, either for some infraction that I would explain in time (she wasn’t) or simply for my own pleasure (that last was true, granted, although not exclusively).

I opened a bottle of wine, paired perfectly, as always, and I let her drink deeply before I gagged her. Sarah hated the gag, but she endured it without complaint, because she knew it pleased me.

And she did please me. More than I wanted to admit. My own breathing came faster. With need, with desire.

And with something else, something deeper and abiding.

Something unwelcome.

I realized then that there was another advantage to binding her in the way I had. I couldn’t see her face. I couldn’t fall and be lost in her eyes. I could think of her simply as a bottom to be trained and used, like so many other bottoms before her.

Although of course it wasn’t just another bottom. It was Sarah. My Sarah, won and captured.

If, indeed, she was the one who was captured.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I would have to free myself. Like it or not, I had no other choice. I had a contract.

Sarah was meant for another, and soon the time would come for her to be sold.

With effort, I forced myself to concentrate on my work. This was, after all, a crucial part of her training. A good slave girl, after all, doesn’t merely tolerate her Master’s cock—she must come to crave it, in any way he chooses to present it. Even in her lovely ass. Oh, she can make a show of resistance; it adds spice! But she must surrender in the end (once more, forgive my pun) and take what she is offered with gratitude and enthusiasm. That is what separates some ordinary slut from a truly prized slave girl, the center of any man’s collection of the finer things.

I prepared Sarah by warming her pert and lovely bottom slowly, first with my open hand (firm but slightly curved) and then with the paddle, pausing only to caress her flesh occasionally before resuming the punishment. I used both my hands, alternating one and the other after ever twenty hard slaps or so, starting slowly so that the spanking could last.

Sarah’s bottom was firm and round, still a joy to touch, especially (as I have mentioned) with some strength behind the blows, and her cheeks jiggled and shook in a wonderfully satisfying manner with each slap. She moaned and cried out behind her gag, and she fought with wild and distressed fury against her chains and the heavy wood of the stocks, but it did her no good. She screamed and struggled all the more when I switched to the heavy wooden paddle, which made the most agreeable crack sound when it fell upon her naked and helpless bottom. Her cries and tussles intoxicated me, and I showed her poor bottom no mercy.

She was a slave girl, and mine to punish. Her tears were my reward.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Sarah was squirming and mewing at a most desperate pitch when my connoisseur’s eye judged at last that the red glow had reached the perfect sheen. I set aside my instrument of womanly torture and removed my robe. She signed and relaxed in her bonds, thinking the worst was over. Naked, I moved behind her, my cock already as long and stiff as a knight’s lance. It was red with fury for her, my Sarah, and the veins nearly throbbed with need.

A moment, though, a moment.

I was taking Sarah’s last virginity, and a little preparation was called for. Also, a little anticipation. This was a gift she would never give again.

I removed the plug from her bottom, the largest she had endured. I touched her softly, caressing her bottom cheeks gently, loving the feel and the warmth. Sarah mewled behind her gag.

I took a jar of lotion, another of my own formulas, and rubbed it on Sarah’s bare and captive bottom. She was clean back there, thanks to a part of her morning grooming ritual that we had instituted early on in her training. When I had soothed Sarah’s freshly punished nether cheeks, I rubbed a generous amount around her waiting anus.

She began to squirm in an entirely different manner.

I added more lotion to my finger, and slowing pushed the tip into her waiting bottom. I waited for her sphincter to loosen, and then pushed my finger fully inside her, coating her tighter canal with the lubricating lotion. I pushed my finger in and out of her for a few moments until I felt her body begin to relax. With my free hand, I reached around to her sopping pussy and began to stroke her clitoris with slow, circular motions, gradually increasing the speed and intensity. Her moans took on a new frenzy, and she began pushing herself back on me. At that moment, I pulled my finger out.

Sarah moaned with desperate frustration behind her gag, as close to a scream as she could manage, and I could tell she was trying desperately to turn and see what fate awaited her next, although of course the stocks prevented that.

While Sarah’s apprehension grew, I spread more of the lube onto my waiting cock, and then stepped around to remove Sarah’s gag. I wanted to hear her when I took her lovely bottom for the first time. She licked her lips to wipe away her saliva when I pulled the ball free. I offered her wine, and she drank.

“Th ... thank you, Sir.”

I nodded and set the glass aside. She watched me keenly, her wide blue eyes tracking my very move with growing anxiety.

“W ... what are you going to do to me? Sir?”

She no doubt had felt me lubing her; she obviously saw my erect cock plainly. I saw no need to complete the equation for her.