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She finds something that fits nice and deep.
ing, so-innocent-dirty slut-"
"That's right, Jack," Mandy said, her voice low and soothing, "everything's okay." As I stared at Paulina, who still had her eyes closed as if in a trance, Mandy moved to the large wardrobe beside the bed. She opened it, took something out. I looked, and in her hand was a mass of black leather, straps, gleaming silver buckles and studs and chains. She held it out to me.
"It's this you want, Jack, right? For her to be in this?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Tell her, tell her what to do."
I moved close to Paulina, whose eyes opened, and I saw for the first time a genuine expression of fear on her face. I placed my hands gently on her face to try and calm her.
"I'm sorry, Paulina, it's what has to be done," I told her, my voice on the verge of breaking, "I'm very sick. I need this."
Paulina's eyes locked with mine, and I could see they were full of fear, almost panic. "Don't let her... Jack, don't let her..." Her voice trailed off, and I couldn't hear her final words, which mingled into a whimper. Dear God, what have I done?
"Jack." Mandy's voice, firm, in-control. "Tell her what you want."
I leaned down and kissed Paulina softly on the lips. They were so soft, so sensuous, and the kiss seemed to relax her, to bring her back into the game, the game she had started. "Tell me, Doctor Ellison," she said.
"Take off your clothes, Paulina."
She complied, hastily stripping herself of her jeans first, then her bra, exposing the creamy breasts I had imagined beneath, then her panties, the light patch of hair between her thighs the only thing now covering her. And then it was time to dress her.
Carefully positioned straps of leather, covering nothing, revealing all. Hands bound together, tied off to a bed post, legs tied off at each corner. A collar around her throat with a chain attached. Stretched across, our slave princess, elegant in her indignity, glorious in her subservience, delicious in her helplessness.
Mandy at first watched me as I took her, sat on the bed beside me, expressionless, as I invaded her, fucked her, ravaged her. Mandy spoke only once.
"It's a violation," she said, "it's not right, Jack." All my fault. A violation. And Paulina, sweet, innocent Paulina wanted none of this.
Yet she moaned when I touched her, not the moan of a forced woman, the moan of a hungry woman. As I rode her, I squeezed her breasts almost hard enough to bruise her, hard enough to elicit a cry, and I watched without remorse as a tear ran down her cheek. Who was the awful, sick man who practically raped her? If I saw him in a mirror, would I even recognize him as myself?
Mandy only began to touch her later, after I had had my way with her several times, as if she wanted nothing to do with pretty, pure Paulina. She wanted, it seemed, the used Paulina, the Paulina who was stained with my sweat, my saliva, my semen. As I rested on the bed beside the exhausted girl, Mandy ran her fingers through the tepid mixture of fluids that flowed from Paulina's ravaged cunt, teasing her sensitive clit for a painful moment before tracing a wet trail up her taught stomach, over her breasts, around her hard nipples, up her neck. Mandy slipped her fingers into Paulina's mouth, made her taste it all, and Paulina, dear girl, readily accepted, and I knew she was immaculate no more, tainted now by the bane of our union.
Mandy's eyes met mine, an unspoken command passed. I kneeled beside Paulina then crouched over her, slipped my cock into her mouth, and she, so accepting now, took it. Mandy crawled down her body, went down on her, our slave princess, and we used her as a vessel, filled her up with our lust.
When I woke up, Paulina was beside me, pressed as close as possible, her body weak and tired, but her eyes wide open and watching me.