Chapter 66 Brent2

My arousal mounts as the pain increases. The blows send hard thudding sensations into my cunt – I know I can come if I can just bring my thighs together a little bit. . . . “Spread them!” she snaps. “Spread them wide!” “Y – yes,” I gasp. “Yes, um . . .” “Don’t call me Mistress,” she barks. “You’ve already got a Master. I’m not his fucking girlfriend.” “Yes, Carrie,” I whimper. Her hand comes down fast, this time, harder than before. But she is not spanking my ass now – her open palm connects with my cunt, again, again, again, and the stinging blow wrenches great moans out of me. The pain makes me rise up on my hands and knees, makes me perch over her precariously in a vain attempt to get away. She puts her hand on my ass and shoves me down into her lap, hard, then begins spanking my cunt in earnest. I moan wildly, no longer caring if people outside Carrie’s office can hear. I moan wildly because I’m going to come. She knows it, too – she spanks my sex harder so that it hurts, and hurts bad, when I finally reach the peak and climax uncontrollably. White-hot waves of pleasure course through my naked body. I want to say “I’m sorry” – Brent always makes me ask before I come, and I’m punished if I don’t. But Carrie doesn’t give a damn. And she doesn’t stop spanking my cunt – not until long after I’ve come, when my sensitive pussy is so pained I can feel it swelling with the force of her blows. It’s hot, now, and I know I won’t be able to sit still for days. I’m sobbing when she’s finally satisfied. She tips herself up slightly, dumping me painfully onto the floor. I curl into a ball, my body still pulsing with the sensations of orgasm. My sobs slowly dwindle as I look up at her through eyes blurry with tears. Carrie has lifted her prim pencil-skirt, tucking it under her ass. She’s not wearing panties underneath. Her sex is naked, framed by the angled lines of her garters between her spread legs. She’s tucked her ass forward so that it’s on the edge of the chair, and her trimmed pussy is open, glistening in the fluorescent lights. “Well?” she says. It hurts for me to move. My ass and cunt are so sore I can barely get myself onto my hands and knees again. Looking up at her, I nervously lower my face between her thighs. I am so used to giving head that the position feels perfectly right, but the scent is unfamiliar. And when I touch my mouth to her close-cropped sex, the taste is even more exotic. “That’s a good girl,” she sighs as I let my tongue laze out and begin to lick her clit. “Get all of it, dear. The lips. The hole. I want you to taste it. I’m sure Brent wants you to taste it, too.” Carrie is so wet that her juices flow onto my tongue as I lick between her lips, swirling the tip of my tongue around her entrance. The flavor is tangy, musky, salty and a little bit sweet. I feel my pained cunt responding as I service her. Her thighs close slightly around my head, as if to hold me in place. Her breath comes quickly. “Now back to the clit,” she murmurs. I return my attentions to her clit. I begin to tongue her rhythmically, the way I liked it when men used to go down on me. Before I was the one always doing the servicing. Before I became a slave. “Very good. A little more pressure, Juliette. Just a little more.” Carrie’s voice is rich with arousal. Her hand drifts to my head; first one hand, then both hands tangle in my hair. She begins to grind her hips against the chair in time with the thrusts of my tongue. She’s getting close, I can tell. That knowledge makes me lick her more firmly, my own sex responding in kind, moisture dripping down my inner thighs. “Don’t stop!” she growls, and then she comes. I continue licking her as her body bucks and pumps against me, driving her clit more powerfully onto my tongue. She grips my hair hard now, pulling it, shoving my face between her legs. Then, an instant later, she is finished. With both hands still gripping my hair, she yanks my head from her crotch and shoves me back. I spill backwards and land on my tortured ass, gasping as the sore mounds reach the rough industrial carpet. I sit there looking up at her, my cheeks stained with tears, Carrie’s juices running down my chin.