"Sit. Lean back against me, legs out straight," Master instructed me, easing me back against him. My head fell to rest against his chest, and as it did, he tipped my face up to him so he could crush his mouth savagely against my own. Overcome by feminine weakness, I whimpered helplessly. All the time he ravaged my mouth, he squeezed my breasts hard enough to leave his fingers' pink imprints against my snow-pale flesh.
"Lift your knees, precious. Spread yourself. Show him how wet he's helped make you," Master whispered gently on breaking the brutal kiss. Dazed, I obeyed, drifting my legs slowly apart as they bent. Releasing my breasts to bob pink and white in the sunlight, he drew my skirt to my waist, revealing me completely. My legs trembled. I trembled. The trembling didn't stop Master from slapping my thighs farther apart. Wide, wide apart. I burned with shame when I felt the blanket dampen beneath me.
"I think his cock must be hurting him from how hard it's grown in his trousers," Master whispered in my ear, returning his calculated attention to my aching breasts with a swirl of his fingers around my distended nipples. The light, painfully teasing touch made me feel as if my breath had been cut off. Panic, along with baser feelings, set my pulse to a wild flutter in my throat's hollow.
"He wants to free his cock, to close his fist around it and pump himself while he watches me play you. I know he does. I can tell by the way his fingers are twitching. They're twitching - just like your sopping sex is twitching, precious."
Master told the truth. It was an undeniable, humiliating truth, for I sat in a tiny puddle of my own making and could feel my sex lips swollen in pout; indeed, they seemed almost to sulk and I felt my welling desire trickle in sly time with my heart's pulsing beat. The heat in my face crept down to stain my breasts with my shame.
"Such a pity he hasn't the nerve, isn't it precious? I'd like to see him, cock in hand, blatantly jerking himself to the rhythm of my hands on you," Master whispered, tweaking my rosy nipples and scrubbing his cool palms lightly across their delicate peaks. I moaned. It was a quiet, desperate, pleading sound.
"See how his eyes dart from your breasts to your smooth, slicked pussy? He's imagining the sweet taste of these..." Master pinched my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, elongating my tender flesh to its extreme with a seductive traction that made me pant. "…even while he's fantasizing sinking his cock deep inside your tight heat."
It didn't bear thinking of! That a complete stranger watched me, unable to tear his eyes from my body, astounded by my compliance, agog at my blushing submission. And yet - yet - I couldn't bear not to think of it.
"Look at him, precious. Raise your eyes. Look at him," Master commanded me.
I tried. I tried so hard to obey. I wanted so badly to please him. But I couldn't bring myself to. Mutely, miserably, I shook my head, keeping my lashes lowered. My face felt afire.
"You'll be whipped for your disobedience - later," he told me, cruelly twisting my nipples, as if to emphasize his point. Of course, I'd known I would be.
Master never touched my sex at all. He didn't have to. He had only to work my breasts and nipples under the hot sun and then, when he was ready, to whisper, "Come for me, now." He'd known from the moment the watcher first glanced our way that I was already lost.
Nothing was ever said to the stranger. He never touched me. He only sat on the hard stone bench, shifting from hip to hip - and watched.
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