You will want to have read the earlier parts of Lola’s story.
The intensity lasted forever, and was also over too soon, as, with a sound of satisfaction that was almost a tiger’s purr, deeper than she would have imagined Annelies could sound, the older woman releases her and steps a little to one side, Lola senses; she cannot contain a soft, helpless wail of need, cannot stop her hips from thrusting forward, looking for more, more sensation, offering herself for use without restraint, pleading with her body, feeling the knowledge that Jason must be seeing her now, full on, with Annelies having moved sideways, that he could not but notice that Lola was more sexually exposed, desperate, needy, wanton than she had ever been with him, felt both ashamed and liberated by this, and then shocked, for Annelies’ sticky fingers, heavily redolent of Lola’s own pussy juices, were unceremoniously pushing into her mouth.
It was obvious what was expected of her, of course, and just as obvious to her conventional mind (still in there somewhere) that it was unacceptable, impossible; too demanding, too much, and her jaw tightened instinctively, her throat closing too, before, instants later, Lola realised that her instincts were exactly what was unacceptable— would be unacceptable to Annelies, at least, and awkwardly— forcing herself— overcompensated, stretching her mouth wide, lifting her head up from its lolling position to take the fingers in, which in turn triggered a violent choking and retching, Lola’s upper body twisting, hands waving wildly, unable to do what they wanted (which was to fend Annelies off) because of the tangle of bra and dress straps around her arms. Tears almost instantly spurted from Lola’s eyes as Annelies responded, not by pulling back, apologising, or expressing concern for Lola— not in the least; rather Annelies’ other hand was immediately at the back of Lola’s head, a firm fistful of hair tightly gripped, hurting and controlling Lola, and at the same time the sticky fingers were relentlessly forced deeper into Lola’s throat;
“Don’t you dare resist my slightest desire, Little, don’t you ever dare.”
Annelies’ voice was not in the slightest stressed, in fact it seemed cool, conversational— amused and tolerant— even kind, at the same time as she was being so directly physical with Lola, even as Lola was reacting exactly as someone fearing they were about to be choked to death might react.
Annelies persisted though, until Lola, frightened, desperate for something to work, stilled herself, since struggle was making things worse. And indeed as soon as Lola stilled, Annelies relaxed, pulled her fingers back, though they were still in between Lola’s teeth;
“That’s better, pretty Little; you’ve learned something; that it’s always better for a girl like you; a helpless little slut girl, a collection of warm wet holes and fun squishy parts and a desperate need to please— that sort of a little girl— a girl like that needs to accept, to submit, to let herself be abused, to do everything she can to show that she is submitting, that she wants the one who is abusing her to enjoy themselves. Everything is just so much easier that way; if the person playing with you wants to provoke a reaction, they can always push you harder— until you can’t possibly accept— but in general, you’ll find that pretty submission generates the least stress.”
These words were hard to hear for Lola, still struggling to get her breath, the back of her throat sore— so sore she knew that she had been damaged there, fear rising in her at the thought that she had let that happen; that she was so weak and vulnerable and wasn’t going to be strong enough to resist. She needed Annelies, then, needed her strength, needed her help, and had to lift her head a little, to look at the woman she worshipped, the woman who had just terrified and hurt her, her eyes wide and full of need, tears on her cheeks, her chest heaving, breathing noisy and— yes— sore.
And Annelies smiled at her, full of reassurance; calm and pleased. It was powerfully confusing for Lola, hurt and frightened and shocked, that wonderful Annelies was acting as if everything was fine; on the other hand it was genuinely reassuring to know that Annelies was happy; Lola saw that she always needed to know that Annelies was not displeased with her— that it had become a given, and it was a relief (astonishing just how much of a relief, actually) to know that her pathetic struggling and resistance had not been an annoyance. But still … all those hard words about abuse and holes … so cruel sounding!
Then Annelies put a hand up, stroked Lola’s cheek, softly wiped the tears away, smiled again, full of sympathy;
“Oh, I know it’s going to be hard, Little— of course it is! For a silly like you, everything is hard; plus you’ve been taught so many lessons that are wrong— just plain wrong for a cute little sex-pet like you, and it will be hard for you to get past them. The good news is that it is going to be fun for us to push you through.”
“You see, we get to hurt and shame you, not just because it is entertaining for us to tease you, tease you real hard— but because you need it; because it’s necessary for you— so that all those silly ideas like you must only have sex with kind people that love you, being in control of your holes , that consent is everything and that your self-respect depends on policing access to your holes and squishy bits, that sex is only ok if it’s enjoyable for you— so that all those silly ideas become obviously ridiculous to you, since you experience them being violated, all the time, and you collaborate with your violators, all the time, because you get so hot and wet when you’re abused sexually, and because being beaten gets you to a place of defeat where you don’t have to feel bad about being pathetic, and because you love being a Little so much, and being a Little means those rules can’t be there for you, not any more.”
But Lola’s brain had shut down, and she was just smiling desperately at Annelies, smiling through her tears, hearing herself begging;
“Yes, yes to everything, please, only … only please, don’t, don’t explain it to me, just … just do it; make me… Please?”
This was rewarded by a happy laugh from Annelies, as she turned toward Jason, who was looking quite uncomfortable at the sight of his wife reduced to tears (though he was also stiff as a ramrod in his pants, astonished at how fucking incredible it was what Annelies could do, increasingly unable to think about anything but fucking something, and soon);
“Isn’t she just adorable?”
Then back to Lola, who was trying her best to swallow her sobs, stifle her tears, sideswiped by the rush of weak pleasure which had run through her at being called adorable by Annelies. The cost of getting it. Everything was so intense, and this just the start of it. Lola’s heart beat faster, and all-unlooked for, another wave of gratitude flooded Lola;
She’s really doing it— demolishing me, so I’ll never have to worry again. Oh fuck oh fuck I’m done. God I’m going to be so dependent, I’m going to be so pathetic, and that’s what they want, so I’ll hardly have to try at all.
And then;
“Shall we try again, now? Can you nod for me, Little? See if you can make your nipples jiggle to entertain us, will you?”
Utterly dependent as she was on Annelies at that moment for her place in the world, Lola nodded, urgently, as cute as she could make herself be, letting the shame and the fear just be who she was, but not letting them stop her from jiggling her delightfully firm breasts for the two watchers, then remembered to beg for Annelies’ hand, delivered that hand to her sex, though it made her tremble, gasping as Annelies pushed all four fingers directly into her tight sex without any preamble at all, shoving them deep, reminding Lola just how wet and hot she already was, swooning with the sensation of it even as she made herself present her outstretched palms again for Annelies’ other hand, which began immediately to pull and pinch at Lola’s nipples.
Back and forth, left then right went Annelies, making Lola alternately coo with arousal then mew with pain; all her filters gone, just a slut being used, in heat, gratefully letting thought be overcome by sexual intensity, only just remembering to let her head loll back, her tongue tip protrude. That Jason was seeing her like this presented itself as an appalling betrayal, but was immediately surpassed by Annelies once again presenting her fingers to Lola’s parted lips to be cleaned; this time, Lola found herself dedicated to serving Annelies well.
Despite the pain, the convulsions and the fear— which were if anything worse than the first time— Lola knew what to expect, and was able to manage herself better, even when Jason, unable any longer to stay a spectator, stepped in and grabbed her pussy, so recently released by Annelies, and Lola was lost, lost to everything, nothing at all but extreme sensation, as the two of them worked her, gasping and moaning, lost.
