A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... the table once, twice, like he itched to start the tally. Liam's pen scratched frantic... not a demerit, but a note:

"Self-punishment: 20 swats, edged, gagged voluntary. Progress x10." Voluntary. Like that made it less filthy. Less me.

My throat worked... dry, burning... as I stood, chair scraping back like a starting gun. Legs trembled under the table, thighs clenching against the fresh slick blooming traitor between them, the cotton seam wedging deeper with every shift. Fear clawed up my chest: Of her, the slut scripting her own unraveling, choosing the humiliation because fighting it left me wetter anyway.

But rebellion? It lingered in the edges... the glare I shot Steven as I hooked my thumbs in the shorts' waistband, the slow peel down my legs, baring the blue cotton clinging damp to my mound. Panties next... cotton sodden at the crotch, the dark patch glaring like evidence as I stepped free. Bare now, from the waist down, the kitchen air cool and damning on my exposed pussy... lips puffy from the day's denied throb, a bead of slick already trailing down my inner thigh. Their eyes raked: Mike's heavy, owning; boys' hungry, waiting. I met none... stared at the floor instead, rebellion's last stand in the flush staining my chest above the tank's hem.

The panties dangled from my fingers... heavy, intimate, the scent wafting up sharp and personal as I brought them to my lips. No Liam taunting this time, no yank-away game. Just me, folding the wad deliberate, the ...

... damp cotton pressing cool against my mouth before I parted my lips and stuffed it deep. It bulged my cheek instant, the salty tang flooding my tongue... bitter, musky, a cocktail of sweat and arousal from the booth's echo, the lap's flood. Gag reflex hit, throat convulsing, but I swallowed it down, the fabric muffling my sob into a pathetic hum.

"Mmmph."

Sorry? No... defiant, eyes lifting to Mike's now, holding as I draped slow over his lap. Belly to thigh, the denim rough under me like last night, his cock already stirring thick against my hip... a hot promise I felt twitch as my bare ass settled high, cheeks clenching exposed under the light. Legs dangled, spread subtle by the chair's width, pussy splayed open to the air, lips parting slick and vulnerable. His hand settled on my back... steadying, heavy, fingers splaying wide to pin me in place.

"Shtart," I mumbled around the gag, the word garbled and wet, saliva dribbling down my chin to stain the tank.

Mike's exhale was ragged... conflict warring in the hitch, but his hand lifted, palm broad and unyielding, cracking down first on the right cheek. Sting bloomed nuclear, radiating heat that licked straight to my core, my clit throbbing in response.

"Mmmph-wun," I slurred, hips bucking forward into his thigh, the friction grinding my mound against denim. "Fank oo."

Steven next... his swat lighter but stingier, aimed low at the crease, the impact rippling to part my lips further, cool air kissing the slick ...