“Something like that.” He yanks the leash. I squeal, teetering on the very tips of my toes. “What’s wrong? Is that too tight?”
“I can’t…” I gasp. “I can’t…”
“If you can speak, you can breathe,” he snaps. “I need to retrieve my supplies.”
He leaves me dangling while he searches a black briefcase balanced on top of my dresser. I’m not sure when and how he got inside the house, but there’s no use in questioning him. They have their methods, and nothing can keep them out.
His case reminds me of one a Victorian doctor may carry. He unscrambles a scratchy combination lock into the right position, and it opens with a pop. His back shields my view, so I can’t see what’s inside properly, but his hands float a few inches over the objects while he makes his selections.
“This will do,” he says, picking a mystery item.
He takes slow, deliberate steps, building anticipation as he moves behind me. I try turning, but it’s too hard to hold my balance. I have to stay in the same spot, or I’ll cut off my oxygen supply.
Heat radiates from his looming body like a burning fire, but his breath tickling the back of my neck makes me shiver. He tugs my panties loose and lets them fall to the floor.
“Spread your legs wide for me, little slut,” he orders, loosening the chain slightly to give me room to move.
I step out of my panties and oblige as his palm slides down my spine, gliding over my lower back arch and down to my ass. His touch is fleetingly tantalizing, skimming the surface, like a breeze that’s barely there but still chills you.
He notices me wince.
“What’s wrong?” he mocks. “Don’t you like being touched?”
I bite my lip and stay silent.
He spits on his gloves.
“You need to be punished,” he purrs, sliding his hand between my ass cheeks.
I groan, expecting them to stray to my pussy, but I tighten instantly when I realize that isn’t his intention. My thighs clench as soon as his wet finger rubs my asshole. The stitching of his glove caresses my entrance, and I pucker under it.
“You’re going to take what I give you, Little Ghost.” He tsks. “I never said I’d play nice.”
He spits again, a wet sloshy sound, before returning. He’s not gentle. He probes, pushing his finger into my ass. My eyes water. It’s the first time I’ve had anything inside it, and the sensation is alien. He circles, stretching me, before pushing back and forth. In and out. I have no choice but to stand as still as possible while he fills me.
“Filthy whore,” he chastises. “This is what happens when you allow old men to grind against your pretty ass. You need a reminder of who owns it.” He withdraws from me. “You’re ready now.”
“Ready for…”
I yelp as he inserts a lubricated cylindrical object into my ass. It’s smooth, silky, and a little bigger than his finger. He slides it in deeper, one inch at a time.
“That’s it, Little Ghost,” he compliments. “Let me see your ass eat it up.”
He fucks me with the object, twirling it around. As I get more comfortable, it actually feels… kinda good. I arch my back but stay quiet, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing this isn’t all bad.
He laughs, like he can read my thoughts, and stops abruptly, leaving the object buried inside me.
“Where are my manners?” he asks. “I’m sure you want to see.”
He dismounts my mirror from the wall and lays it flat on the floor between my legs.
I hesitate before looking down and seeing my pussy splayed beneath me. My lips, puffy and pink from arousal, glisten.
“Look how wet you are,” he says, noticing my wetness.
I imagine him smirking before I see the object in my ass.
A candle.
