Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(18)
“Finish up, Karen,” came Mr. Green’s contrasting comment. No, he definitely didn’t care, did he? “Let’s get those panties off.”
She had kept her eyes on the cream-colored carpet of the pretty room with the awful things in it as she had obeyed their command to take off her lingerie. She could just see a corner of the cage with its silver wire bars, well-spaced. Noticing it again with an inward shrinking, she couldn’t help raising her eyes for just an instant to see what kind of expression her owners’ faces wore.
Mr. Green’s blue eyes glittered in the light of the desk lamp he had turned on when he leaned against the frankly adorable piece of furniture with its little hutch overhead. He had a tight smile on his face that seemed to speak of cruel satisfaction, and he looked straight back at her, so that she feared instantly for her bottom and her hands moved involuntarily back to cover herself there even as her eyes went to Mr. Singleton and found that his expression, carried most of all in the upward angle of his square jaw, seemed to have in it some conflict of his own.
He’s just trying to decide between the ‘getting to know her’ visits and the gangbang, Karen thought bitterly, the realization bringing a fresh resolve just to get to the other side of this hour. She stood with her hands behind her, though, for a moment, looking back into Mr. Singleton’s eyes, not sure she could do it—uncertain that she could feign obedience as he looked on.
“Sweetheart,” Mr. Green said warningly, and Karen dropped her eyes again to the carpet, new heat coming to her face. She hurried to roll down and tug off the second stocking.
Now the panties. She moved her hands, mechanically, tucked her thumbs into the lacy waistband. She felt a whimper rise in her throat, and she stifled it, but she couldn’t push it down entirely: it came out as a pathetic whine.
“Take them down, Karen,” Mr. Singleton said, his voice now becoming as severe as Mr. Green’s.
She had taken off the prison panties, in the awful examination room. She had had them taken down by Joe and Pete in her cell. But these weren’t gray cotton, or even the pink nylon she had removed, secretively under the covers, to have sex with her boyfriend. They had dressed her in these very special panties to prepare her for the sex they meant to have with her, and though that should have made them trivial to remove, she reflected, Karen nevertheless found the opposite to be true.
When she pulled down the panties, even if her mind told her that she did it in order to get through the next little while until she could start her day off, she would tell these men that she did belong to them down there; that when they told her to take off her underwear and show them the pussy the doctor had waxed in order that she meet their specifications, she would do it.
Karen gritted her teeth at the vexing thought, and realized that that slight gesture, the slight expression of resistance that might go entirely unnoticed by her owners, helped a little. The simple bodily feeling of her teeth against each other, the slightly chalky sensation of tooth moving on tooth, constituted an act of defiance.
She had to pull down the lace thong and expose the places, fore and aft, that these men meant to invade with their penises whenever they liked as soon as she had healed enough to tolerate fucking. But she could grit her teeth as she did it; grind them in anger at the men who had purchased her and in frustration that despite everything it made her wet just to feel the lace slipping down her thighs and know that her owners could see everything now, use everything now.
Suddenly the long-repressed ache in her bladder became an urgent need. She caught herself before she raised her eyes, and said, “Where’s the bathroom, please?” It was all she could do to keep herself from a little girl’s I-need-to-go dance: she couldn’t prevent her knees from turning inward a little as her need grew by the second.
“Oh, do you have to go, sweetheart?” asked Mr. Green with terrible coyness.
Karen bit her lip, ground her teeth. She knew she had no choice, but adding her voice to her tacit consent seemed too much. She looked at Mr. Singleton; maybe he would just tell her where the bathroom was. They could follow if they wanted, but Karen couldn’t ask permission like a schoolgirl—she just couldn’t.
Again she saw the conflicted look in Mr. Singleton’s eyes, and again she decided he must simply be deciding how best to degrade her. What he said next certainly didn’t disabuse her of that idea.
“If you don’t ask permission, Karen, you’ll have to wet yourself here in your room, and then clean it up after you’re punished.”
“Oh, please,” she whispered, his shameful words awakening a vulnerable place in her she had thought she’d managed to close off.
Much, much worse, that bit of yielding, the word please, made something happen down below.
“Look,” Green said sardonically. “She just peed a little. What a naughty girl. We should spank her just for that.”
The terrible truth: the wet warmth trickling on her thigh made her give in, for how else could she get to the sanctuary on the other side of this ordeal?
“May I please go to the bathroom, sir?” she blurted out to Mr. Green’s shoes.
“Yes, you may,” said Mr. Singleton. “It’s at the end of the hall. You’d better run. Just make sure you leave the door open.”
She ran, knowing as she did, and she felt a little more come out onto her thighs, that Mr. Singleton despite whatever that ambivalence in his eyes meant wanted to see her run naked and humiliated down the hall to find the gorgeous bathroom, the gleaming white toilet. She gave a soft cry at the sight and darted there, turned, the yellow liquid coming in tiny spurts despite everything she tried with her pelvic muscles and the terrible feeling of need and fullness making it impossible to think of anything but relief.