Free Dominating Jess: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella by Rachel Nixx Page A

    
    And I couldn’t stop
peeing. It came, and it came, and then more came. As it slowed, the liquid
coursed down both my legs. Within seconds, I was standing barefoot in mud
puddles of my own making. The warmth of it felt as superheated as my shame. As
it became just a trickle, I choked on a sob.
    The relief, though,
was almost as intense as an orgasm.
    “Dirty slut,” said one
man in heavily accented English, seeming thrilled.
    Jake signaled the
biggest man to come to him. He handed him the chain and said something.
    Nodding, the man began
tugging it. Lightly at first, my right nipple ached, and then burned as he
pulled harder. Jake held my leash and pulled it, just enough to make the butt
plug move harder into my ass. As they both tugged rhythmically, I desperately
wanted to move in the same rhythm—maybe it would lessen the
pain—but I knew better now. I stayed still and let him have his way.
    The man nodded at Jake
who nodded back. Bringing his arm back like he was landing a fish, he ripped
off the remaining clamp. Despite myself, I felt my knees give, bending. I lost
my balance and almost fell. Had it not been for Olya catching me, I would have
fallen face first into the muddy dirt, unable to use to my hands to stop my
fall.
    I locked my legs
again. With tight fingers, Olya held me in place.
    Would I get a break
now? Would Jake thank them for their time and send them to their fishing hole?
    Instead, I heard a
footstep scrape the dirt behind me.
    The new person passed
me on the path, and then stumbled, pausing near the first three men. He was a
boy, no older than nineteen, if that, wearing a bright red soccer shirt. He’d
shaved this morning, but the stubble he’d missed on his neck still looked soft
and sparse. And his jaw was hanging completely open, his eyes big as hubcaps.
    There was a flurry of
conversation as the men filled the boy in.
    “Do you speak
English?” asked Jake. “Do you understand what this woman is?”
    The boy nodded. “She
is dirty whore.”
    Jake nodded, his
expression satisfied. “So dirty she’s standing in a pool of her own piss.”
    At this, the boy
laughed. He met my eyes once, before his gaze skittered nervously away.
    “Touch her,” Jake
said.
    The boy looked
shocked, his mouth dropping open again. “She mind?”
    “She signed up to have
this done to her. She wants this.”
    I didn’t think it was
possible, but his eyes grew even bigger. I wanted to speak around the gag, to
tell the boy that no, I didn’t want this. That was the natural answer in this
situation. But I did want it. I wanted it so badly I felt weak.
    “Touch her. See how
she feels.”
    The boy didn’t wait to
be told a third time. He reached out and grabbed my nipple, which was still
swollen and elongated. He pinched me, his cold fingers digging into the
sensitive flesh. At first he was tentative, but he grew bold within in seconds,
pulling and twisting harder. He stepped closer and brought his other hand to my
other breast. It must have been his first time touching a woman, because he
didn’t so much touch me as knead me as a baker kneads bread, or as a farmer
kneads a cow’s udders. He squeezed my breasts—which actually felt good
since it brought a strange relief to my poor nipples—until I thought he
wanted to take them off and stuff them in his pockets. A huge delighted grin
lit his face as he looked over his shoulder at the older men. As humiliated as
I was, it was sweet to see him like this. I knew boys in my class at the gym
who sometimes couldn’t raise their eyes from my chest even when I embarrassed
them by calling them out on it.
    “Now touch her lower.”
    Oh, shit.
    The boy bit his bottom
lower lip, two bright spots of color lighting the tops of his cheekbones.
    His fingers were rough
and cold. I hated how wet I was. It wasn’t from him, I wanted him to know that.
I’d been wet since all of this started and it had nothing to do with the fact
that a stranger was now plunging his