Dominating Jess: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella by Rachel Nixx Read Free Book Online Page B

throat. Quivers raced from my core to the top
of my head, leaving me heaving. The same hand hit me again, and my clit,
apparently so engorged it was completely exposed, almost exploded. I didn’t
know how much more of that feeling I could take without collapsing. I prayed to
something, anything, that the hitting would stop, and I wished at the same time
that a fusillade of strikes would rain down, bringing me to orgasm.
    I was so beyond turned
on that the shoes in front of my eyes began to look erotic. I focused on the
way one lace had a frayed end though the rest of the shoes were in excellent
condition, then on the curve at the instep. A hand, smaller and cooler, traced
my bottom before landing with a surprisingly smart smack on my cheek. I stared
harder at the shoes as I felt a pinch at my waist, and fluttering fingers at
the back of my knee. A hand attached to someone I couldn’t see, just out of my
line of sight, weighed my right breast as if he were going to purchase it,
squeezing as if testing for ripeness. I felt the liquid connection between my
nipple and my clit, and just as I thought he was going to let go, the man
twisted my whole breast, wringing it with his fingers dug deeply into my flesh.
Another person scratched the skin of my stomach with sharp fingernails.
    Hands, fingers, palms,
everywhere. Every piece of my exposed skin was being touched, caressed,
flicked, smacked. Tested. I was being tested by all of them. Someone leaned
against my hip for a fraction of a second as he was jostled by the crowd (it had
to be more than thirty people now, all pressing forward, toward me ), and
I felt the shape of the thin, hard cock in his pants.
    The shoes. If I
concentrated on memorizing those shoes, I would get through this. They were
solid, real, in front of me. Something of the regular world. Something I saw on
an everyday basis. Just shoes.
    The crowd in front of
me parted. I watched the shuffling legs, and the brown wingtips moved to the
side.
    “How do you find her?”
asked Jake.
    A chorus of yes and very nice and words I didn’t understand filled the air.
    “Good, good. Do you
see, though, how distracted she is?”
    I wasn’t! How could I
be distracted? As Jake said the words, I felt someone’s hand behind me cover my
pussy, cupping it warmly. One small finger—a woman’s?--slid into me just
the slightest bit. Maybe only half-an-inch, but with how rigid my clit was, I
almost came apart. I found the wingtips, just to my left, and studied them with
concentration.
    “Do you see how she
focuses on Marco’s shoes?”
    Murmurs of assent.
    “I think she’s too
focused on them. That’s not what a whore should be focused on. A whore should
be focused on only one thing—making the people around her happy. Marco,
what would make you happy?”
    Marco said something I
couldn’t understand. The crowd responded with a communal bark of laughter and
the sound of assent.
    “That’s what I was
hoping you would say. Give her your shoe, Marco.”
    Fingers reached down
and untied the lace on the left shoe. Damn. Would he hit me with it? Where?
Would it smack as hard as the flat palm that had just struck my back thigh?
    But instead, Jake took
the shoe in his hands and crouched in front of the chair I was still bent over.
He held the wingtip in front of me. “You see this dust, whore?”
    I nodded quickly.
    “Make it shine.”
    He didn’t mean...oh,
God. He did. He wanted me to use my tongue on that shoe? The piece of
leather that had undoubtedly been stomping who knew where for God knew how
long? My mouth?
    And even as I
recoiled, feeling a surge of nausea, I was also drawn forward. My tongue,
almost of its own volition, darted out of my mouth, toward the shoe.
    “Good slut,” said Jake
in the same tone he used when he praised my skill at liar’s dice in our bar.
“Taste it now.”
    I hesitated again, an
inch away from the leather.
    “Taste it now or I
push it into your mouth the same way I shoved my cock