This is where the story really starts to take a darker turn. This part contains NC sexual activity, so continue at your own discretion. You’ve been warned.

19. CHARITY CARNALVAL

Amanda knelt in place behind the carnival booth’s smiling vintage signage – KISSES FOR CHARITY – $5 – still unsure how the setup had evolved from Sophie’s original pitch. She had assumed she’d be handing out flirtatious kisses and collecting donations, not locked into a disguised free-use display, her body offered up to strangers. The setup was a lie, of course, crafted by Sophie and built to offer Amanda’s lower body as free-use amusement to Sophie’s carefully vetted high-roller donors. Inside the structure, Amanda’s legs were locked in a padded, kneeling position on a reinforced platform, ankles discreetly cuffed in place beneath the booth. The position arched her back naturally, presenting her ass and pussy fully through an opening cut into the rear wall – hidden from carnivalgoers, but easily accessible to the donors entering the small tent behind the scenes.

When Amanda saw the configuration, she had nearly walked away as she internally debated whether she was prepared for this, but Sophie, seeing the look on Amanda’s face, immediately reinforced the importance of this charity, and how much Paul would clearly appreciate Amanda’s generosity. “We’d be lucky to make a few grand for the charity if you did nothing but kisses – you won’t believe the money we can make from these rich guys. It could keep the center from closing!”

Sophie’s earnest plea ultimately won Amanda over. Along with the continually growing heat in her loins from the idea of being a public whore – for charity.

Amanda had been practically shaking with both nerves and excitement as she climbed into position, the cool air kissing her overheating naked skin, then suddenly turned back to Sophie with urgency and alarm.

Sophie was fastening the locks as Amanda spoke up. “Everyone wears a condom, right?”

Her face inscrutable, Sophie affirmed Amanda’s requirement. “That’s one of the basic rules.”

Amanda’s upper body remained free to lean out the front curtain for each new “customer,” her torso perched above the waist-high counter, face flushed, hair loose and tousled. Her lips were slick with gloss, her cheeks kissed with a rosy blush, and her breasts – barely contained by a sweat-darkened promotional tee that clung transparently to her nipples with every thrust from behind.

Sophie, standing nearby and smiling with practiced sweetness, collected the $5 fees from front-facing guests and managed the rotation of more generous donors at the tent-enclosed rear, with Marcus nearby for crowd control. For those who paid enough, anything was on the table. Amanda, ever the good sport in her mind, reminded herself she was supporting a good cause – and more importantly, that Paul supported her “openness” and loved how free and giving she was becoming.

As yet another latex-wrapped cock drove into her from behind, Amanda leaned out for the next kisser, her breath slightly hitching as she smiled brightly. “Hi there!” she greeted, voice tinged with warmth and a barely suppressed gasp.

Paul stood in front of her, smiling nervously with a $5 bill in hand.

Her heart stuttered. For a half-second, guilt flared – then pride. He looked so sweet, so proud, so oblivious. She just wanted to make him happy. She knew this cause meant a lot to him.

“Amanda!” he laughed. “I had no idea you were working this booth.”

She blinked, flustered for a moment, before grinning with real affection. “I told Sophie I wanted to help raise money. It’s been… a lot more popular than I expected.”

Paul leaned in, and Amanda gave him a sweet, lingering kiss – her mouth warm and glossy, tasting faintly of wine, her body jolting slightly as a deep thrust landed from behind. She masked it with a moan that could pass for passion.

“You’re amazing for doing this,” Paul said, touched. “You’ve been here all day?”

“Nonstop,” Amanda murmured, brushing his cheek. “It’s exhausting, but everyone’s been so… generous.”

Paul’s gaze dropped to her shirt, noticing her hard nipples pressing clearly through the thin fabric. He opened his mouth to comment – but was interrupted.

From the tent behind her, a man emerged, smug and sweaty, tucking himself back into his pants. He elbowed casually up to the booth, grinning.

“Mind if I get a kiss too?” he asked, dropping a crumpled $5 into Sophie’s hand. “Feels rude not to say thank you after a workout like that.”

Amanda smiled. “Of course.”

He grabbed her face and kissed her hard, his tongue pushing deep into her mouth. Amanda moaned softly. Paul’s eyes widened.

“Damn,” the man said, dragging it out. “That mouth’s unreal. She was swallowing around me while still getting railed. Fucking multitasking.”

Amanda caught her breath, still smiling. “This is my husband,” she said, laying a hand on Paul’s arm.

The man turned to Paul with a smirk. “No shit? Damn, that’s ballsy. Most guys wouldn’t let their wife spend all day getting… kissed like that.”

Paul’s stomach lurched; a hot flush pricked his ears. But Amanda’s serene grin said she was fine – and he refused to be that suspicious husband.

Paul forced a smile.

“Seriously,” the man said, lowering his voice but not enough. “That mouth’s addictive. Tight, wet, eager – hard to pull out. You train her, or was she always this good?”

Amanda laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “Be nice. You’re going to embarrass my husband.”

Paul’s smile thinned, tension coiling in his jaw. Workout? Addictive? Is this guy just an asshole or am I missing something? He glanced at Amanda, her expression radiant but strained. Her hand squeezed his – gently anchoring.

“Didn’t mean to make it weird,” the man said, clearly not sorry. “Just saying – most women tap out. But yours? Still gripping like she’s ready for seconds.”

Amanda squeezed Paul’s hand again. “Ignore him. He’s just being silly.”

The man winked. “Silly, sure. She’s in good hands back here. Among other places. I might have to make another donation later.”

As he walked off, Sophie murmured, “Some donors just like to double-dip.”

Paul flushed. “Yeah… I mean, she’s always been good with people.”

Amanda turned to him, warm and sincere. “You really are the best, babe. It has to be awkward watching your wife work a… kissing booth… like this,” she said gently, brushing his hand with hers. “But you make me feel safe. Free. Like I can be myself, no matter what that means.”

Sophie leaned in from behind. “She’s been a huge success today. Raised more money than anyone else by far. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Paul said, still holding Amanda’s hand. “I just hope she’s not overdoing it.”

“Oh, she’s definitely sore, but I think her lips are holding up so far!” Sophie said with a knowing smile. “She’s absolutely glowing, isn’t she?”

Amanda giggled again, biting her lip as another donor took position behind her, thick fingers gripping her hips from behind the curtain.

Paul smiled at his beautiful wife, staring deeply into her eyes. “She’s incredible, and working so hard to help out your charity. Can I get you some chapstick sweetheart?”
Sophie snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. “I’m not sure that’ll solve it.”

Amanda sucked in some air and arched her back suddenly, causing her breasts to jiggle. Paul glanced again at Amanda’s soaked, clingy shirt, his brows knitted. “Are they seriously making you wear that?” he asked, clearly uneasy. “It’s a bit… much, don’t you think?”

Amanda blinked, caught off guard. “It’s for the theme,” she said lightly. “Sophie had it printed for all the volunteers.”

“It just seems like a lot,” Paul said, glancing at the smiling donors in line. “Like… can’t you raise money without-“

Sophie stepped in smoothly. “It’s just for fun, Paul. Lighthearted, remember? All the booths have little gimmicks – it’s part of the charity spirit. It sure helps with the donations.”

Paul looked like he wanted to argue, but Amanda placed her hand over his. “You always say how proud you are of me for putting myself out there. This is just that. A little more visible.”

Paul sighed, still clearly uncomfortable, but nodded. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Surprise,” Amanda said with a wink, leaning in for another kiss. “I’m good, really.”

Paul squeezed her hand one last time. “I’ll let you get back to it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Amanda said, her voice catching slightly as the next man pushed into her, and she turned to greet the next $5 customer with a flushed, cheerful smile.

As Paul was turning to leave, Sophie noticed a new figure lingering by the roped-off rear entry. He wasn’t like the others. Taller. Broader. Thicker. His leather jacket creaked as he shifted, one thumb tucked into the waistband of his jeans – already unzipped, heavy meat hanging partway out, half-hard and disturbingly thick even in its resting state.

“Who’s that?” Marcus asked Sophie quietly.

“Name’s Bryce,” she muttered. “High-roller. Big donor. Also… kinda reckless.”

Sophie’s stomach twisted. She didn’t like the look in his eyes – or the rumors she’d heard. But the booth had raised more money today than any other event she’d organized, and she was still short of her goal.. She could feel the adrenaline in her teeth, that sickening buzz of control. She was proud. She was disgusted with herself. She needed to get ahead of this.

Behind the booth, Amanda was currently swallowing moans behind gritted teeth, barely able to manage a bright “Hi there!” to another front-facing guest. Her lipstick had long since faded, cheeks still glowing. Inside the booth, her body continued rocking, slick and gaping from use.

Sophie stepped aside to intercept Bryce before he could take his place.

“You’re not on the list for back access,” she said smoothly.

He chuckled, voice like gravel. “You think I came all the way down here to shake hands? Nah. I came to test her limits. Been saving up for this one – want to see if that pretty little charity hole can take something real.” He glanced toward the booth, tongue rolling across his teeth. “I’ve been waiting for this one. I hear she can take a challenge.”

Sophie folded her arms. “Not that much of a challenge.”

“I’m not gonna break her,” he said, pulling a thick roll of cash from his coat pocket. “Just open her up a little more. Maybe see if she can take the whole thing… fist or cock, your choice.”

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “She’s already been stretched today. A lot. If you hurt her, I shut the booth down.”

He peeled a crisp stack from the roll. “Then I guess it better be worth your while.”

Sophie hesitated, watching as Amanda’s body trembled subtly with each thrust from the current donor. This was already pushing limits. The money felt heavy in her hand – but not heavier than the responsibility she’d already shrugged off hours ago. If Amanda broke under this, it would be her fault. And yet…

Power.

Control.

Knowing the stakes for the center was one motivation, watching Paul lean in earlier, clueless and trusting, had been a rush all its own. Bryce was dangerous – but danger made it real.

She paused – long enough to show she knew exactly how far she was going. Then nodded.

Amanda had no idea who waited behind her. Her lips tingled from Paul’s kiss, and she told herself the worst was behind her. That Paul would be proud if he saw how generous she’d been today. If he ever saw it. Which, thankfully, he never would.

“Three minutes,” Sophie said tightly, her voice low and conflicted. The money felt heavy in her hand, but not heavier than the power. This wasn’t just about charity anymore. This was about control. She paused as she considered – long enough to show that she knew this crossed a line. But the glint in her eyes betrayed a flicker of excitement too – power, control, and the satisfaction of setting the rules. “No marks. No blood. If she screams or taps out, you stop.”

He grinned wide. “I’ll be gentle,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, his eyes trailing possessively over Amanda’s bound form. It was a lie, and they both knew it. Behind her curtain, Amanda took a slow breath, still catching her composure, completely unaware of the ominous presence lining up to test her limits in ways even she hadn’t imagined.

He was taller than most, broader in the shoulders, his cock a monstrous stretch beyond anything she’d taken yet. The sheer girth of him made the earlier men feel like foreplay. Bryce didn’t talk much – but when he touched her, every motion dripped with dominance and intent.

Amanda didn’t hear him approach – she felt him. A dense, looming heat pressed against her hips, and she instinctively tensed in the frame, already sore and stretched in ways she couldn’t name anymore. The previous men had been rough, relentless, and demanding – but this wasn’t more of the same. This was different.

He was quiet. Just a hand – massive and callused – running up the inside of her thigh, then spreading her cheeks like he was inspecting livestock. Amanda flinched involuntarily.

Then she heard it: a low, amused grunt. “Fuck, they weren’t kidding, you’re already gaping,” he muttered. Amanda froze – his tone wasn’t teasing. It was possessive. Clinical. Like he was assessing damage. Her breath hitched, her arms trembled against the booth’s edge.

Sophie reached out, grabbing Bryce’s arm. “She asked for protection. You go in raw, and I pull you out myself.”

Bryce paused, his massive cock slowly expanding to full length and almost touching Amanda’s still tight and puffy pussy. Without a word, he peeled off a few more bills from his wad, holding them over his shoulder without looking back.

The hand gripping his arm loosened, then snatched the money as she insisted, “Just make sure you pull out. For everyone’s sake.”

Amanda couldn’t see what was happening, but the fact that this was the longest break she’d had without a dick in her pussy made her realize something was different. She opened her mouth to respond – maybe to say something playful, something to keep the mood light – but before she could speak, he pushed in. Just the tip.

And Amanda screamed.

Not loud – she caught it in her throat, her face twitching behind the booth’s curtain – but her whole body jolted, legs trembling in their restraints. He didn’t ease in like the others. He forced her to accommodate him. The sheer pressure of his cockhead was unreal – thicker than anything that had come before, shaped to stretch and split her in a way that felt more like violation than sex.

“Oh my- fuck-” Amanda hissed, teeth gritted, the booth frame creaking under the sudden tension in her body. She barely managed to keep her hands steady, her smile faltering for the queue of carnival guests just inches away. She blinked rapidly, cheeks burning, eyes glassy.

Behind her, he spat on his hand and gripped her ass harder. “This ain’t gonna be like the others,” he growled, voice thick and gravelly. “You’re gonna remember this one.”

Then he shoved.

Amanda howled silently, head snapping back as he split her wide open, burying half his length in one punishing, wet slam. Her thighs buckled, and her whole body rocked violently in the frame, held upright only by the lock Sophie had threaded through her restraints. The sensation was overwhelming – her insides seized, trembling as her breath hitched, her mouth struggling to form words that didn’t come out.

“F-fuck, please- fuck, that’s-” Her words died into a choked moan. Her cunt spasmed helplessly, already on the brink of a fresh, overstimulated orgasm just from the stretch alone.

Sophie peeked around the side, glancing at the crowd out front – and spotted Paul approaching again, winding through the line with a curious look on his face. Her eyes widened.

Shit.

She stepped out quickly from the rear and moved toward the front, trying to intercept. “Don’t hold up the kissing line, little brother,” she called with a teasing smile, masking her alarm.

But Paul was already leaning in to speak to Amanda.

“Jesus,” Bryce laughed under his breath, slapping her ass again with a loud, echoing crack. “You’re clenching like you’ve still got something to lose.” Amanda shook, drooling from both ends, the slap of his hips echoing through her ribs as he ground deeper.

A familiar voice behind the curtain made her stomach flip:

“Hey, babe. I forgot to ask – did you want water or something?”

Paul.

Amanda’s eyes went wide. Her whole body jolted as Bryce drove his cock in as deep as she could take – an intentionally hard thrust, perfectly timed, her knees trembling violently. She bit down a scream, clamping her jaw shut and grinning hard, eyes glistening.

“H-hi honey!” she chirped, the words too loud, too chipper. “No – I’m good! Just… a lot going on!”

She laughed, airily. Her fingers curled against the counter.

Paul squinted, concerned. “You sure? You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot,” she said. “And… busy. The line’s been nonstop.”

She gave a weak little shrug, still jolting every few seconds as Bryce kept moving inside her.

Paul stepped closer to squeeze her hand. “You really are incredible. I love how much energy you’ve put into this.”

Amanda nearly sobbed. “You always say the sweetest things. I’m just… trying to be generous, right?”

Sophie hovered behind Paul, her smile tight, eyes flicking between him and the twitching curtain. Every second she spent stalling him made her heart hammer harder – because she wasn’t back there. She didn’t know what Bryce was doing. She didn’t like that. This wasn’t how she ran things.

But she couldn’t let Paul see. Not now. Not this.

“Let her breathe a little, Romeo… These donors are waiting.”

Behind her, Bryce dragged a thick finger along her spine. She shivered.

Paul smiled after a moment. “Well, I better let you get back to it.”

“Yes please,” Amanda blurted, then laughed nervously. “I mean – thank you.”

For half a heartbeat Paul’s chest tightened – why did her voice sound strained? He pushed the stupid thought away, his brow furrowed; Amanda was helping people, and worrying would only make him seem insecure.

Sophie all but herded him with a light shove. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her. And hey – let’s catch up after the rush, okay?” Her voice dropped just enough for urgency to slip in beneath the teasing.

Paul laughed awkwardly and nodded, letting Sophie turn him gently toward the fairgrounds.

As Sophie ushered Paul back into the crowd, he smiled at his sister, “I’m so proud at the work she’s willing to put in.”

Sophie’s smile stretched a little too wide now, eyes flicking nervously toward the back of the booth. “She’s really thriving,” she said. “More than I even expected.” Her voice was bright, but her fingers fidgeted subtly with the zipper pouch on her hip.

Paul hesitated. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, totally!” Sophie chirped. “Just – you know – managing the line, tracking donations, keeping an eye on the backdoor crowd. Nothing Amanda can’t handle.” Her voice wavered slightly on that last line.

Another wet slap rang out from behind the curtain back at the booth behind them – louder than the others had been. Amanda’s voice cracked loudly over the crowd mid-greeting: “Hi- ahh- there! Thank you for su-supporting the ca-cause…”

Paul flinched slightly, glancing backward. “Was that her?”

Sophie’s fake smile faltered. She didn’t answer.

Then the curtain twitched – violently. A ripple of movement behind Amanda’s shoulders, like something had driven deep and hard enough to rattle the frame.

Sophie’s whole demeanor changed. She straightened sharply, eyes narrowing toward the booth’s rear entrance.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, and without another word, spun on her heel.

“Sophie?” Paul called after her.

She waved a hand behind her. “Duty calls, little brother – Enjoy the rest of the fair!” The cheer in her voice rang hollow, and she didn’t look back.

Sophie rounded the roped-off side and strode behind the booth like a storm. A handler tried to say something, but she pushed past him without slowing.

What she saw made her gut twist violently. Amanda was slumped forward in the frame, her back arched beyond its intended limit, red marks blooming across her hips and spine. The angle was all wrong – too deep, too rough – and Bryce wasn’t slowing down. Sophie felt something rare surge in her throat: dread.

Bryce had Amanda bent further forward than the setup was designed for. Her knees, locked into place, had started to shift in their restraints from the force of his thrusts. Her lower back arched hard, her ass pushed up to the limit of the opening – and Bryce was deep inside her raw cunt.

He gripped both her hips like handles, dragging her backward onto his cock with wet, bruising slaps that echoed off the plywood walls. One hand left a raw print on her ass. The other reached up to pull her hair, twisting it like reins.

His cock plunged deep, a brutal, stretching force that stole her breath. Her body jolted, raw with sensation. Paul wouldn’t like this. He wouldn’t want me to feel this. The thought flickered, sharp and unwelcome. But then she remembered his smile, his words about ‘openness,’ Sophie’s reassurances. This is for him. To make him proud. He wants me to be brave. She clenched around the cock, forcing her moans into sounds of pleasure, repeating the lie like a mantra.

Amanda let out a sound – somewhere between a cry and a gasp – but never broke character. Her voice floated weakly through the booth’s curtain: “H-hi there… every little bit helps…”

“Bryce,” Sophie snapped. “I fucking said no damage.”

He didn’t even glance at her. “Then tell this cunt to stop sucking me in like she’s trying to pull my spine out.”

Sophie stepped closer, seeing the sweat slicking Bryce’s arms, the deep flush coloring Amanda’s thighs, the thick spurt of cum from the last man still leaking down her legs – and now Bryce, bigger and meaner, was trying to outdo it.

“You’re fucking up the frame,” she hissed. “That lock doesn’t support her like this.”

Bryce chuckled and shoved in again – slow, brutal, and unrelenting.

Amanda jerked forward with a muffled grunt, her hands gripping the booth edge like she was hanging on through a storm.

Sophie looked back toward the booth entrance. Paul was still in view, chatting absently with a carnival worker, glancing toward the kissing booth as if wondering if he should get back in line.

Her stomach flipped. She opened her mouth to put Bryce in his place, but barely made a sound before he slapped another stack of bills down on the counter.

She froze for a long beat.

Bryce chuckled menacingly, “It’s all gonna fit. One way or another.”

She could say no. She should say no. But she already hadn’t.

“Three extra minutes,” she snapped at Bryce, scooping up the cash. “If she screams, or if you leave a single fucking mark, I drag you out myself.”

Bryce didn’t respond. He just grinned – and fucked harder.

Amanda slumped forward just as Bryce grabbed her hips again and resumed fucking her like she hadn’t just spoken to her husband. Her moan came out as a ragged exhale – half relief, half agony.

He fucked her hard. Not rhythmic – brutal. Slam after slam, all thick meat and unforgiving motion. Her body jolted violently with every thrust, her breasts bouncing and brushing the curtain fabric, sweat pouring down her back. The noises were obscene – wet, slick, punishing. Each impact made her whimper, her face twitching as she tried to hold composure for the guests still paying their $5.

“You’re pushing yourself, but it’s for a good cause,” Paul had told her with such pride. She repeated it silently like a prayer, even as her cunt quivered around Bryce’s brutal cock. This was what Paul wanted. She just had to hold on.

She greeted the next kisser with a faltering smile, sweat running down her temple. “Hi there, thanks for supporting the cause,” she managed, her voice catching as another thrust punched deep into her. “Every little bit – ah – helps.”

The guest cocked an eyebrow. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, biting her lip. “Just… stretching myself a little thin today.” She flashed a wan smile, and silently thanked Paul for always being so understanding about how much she was “pushing herself.”

Her legs burned, trembling in their restraints, her arms numb from gripping the booth’s edge like a lifeline. Her breath hitched with every thrust, brain fogged with overstimulation. Every nerve below her waist felt red-hot and raw, her vision swimming with stars.

Bryce laughed darkly behind her and leaned in. “You want rougher? That money’s on the table now, right?”

Amanda didn’t hear Sophie’s reply, but she felt it: Bryce grabbed her waist through the frame, pinning her down as he doubled his pace. Her body screamed around him – her cunt gaping, juices flooding down her thighs, ass jiggling with every slap of his hips. It was cruel. Relentless. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Her vision swam.

Then Bryce shifted his stance – just slightly – and grunted through clenched teeth. “Almost there.” His thrusts picked up, less measured now – shorter, quicker, piston-like motions that hammered her battered cunt with punishing consistency. Amanda’s eyes fluttered, her breath reduced to ragged gasps as her body convulsed, unable to adjust to the new intensity. He was using her now, not just fucking – driving himself to the edge, grunting louder, sweat dripping down his back as his cock slammed deeper each time, pushing her toward breaking.

Amanda’s brows twitched. She could feel it too. More of him. Stretching her deeper. Unbearably deep.

“Holy fuck,” she whimpered, too overwhelmed to say more.

He shoved again – harder, slower this time, grinding against resistance.

And again.

A couple more hard quick thrusts that took her breath away.

Then his grip tightened, his large hands leaving sure to bruise imprints. His hips drove forward with inexorable force, slowly, unforgivingly, leaving no chance to be denied.

And then –

He bottomed out.

Amanda let out a silent, convulsing sob, her entire frame snapping taut like a bowstring. She felt the booth rattle beneath her locked knees, her cunt clamping reflexively around the buried monster inside her. It wasn’t pain – not exactly – it was the unbearable fullness of something that didn’t belong inside a body, something forced to fit. Her vision swam with stars. Her arms trembled violently, fingers barely maintaining their grip on the booth ledge as her brain screamed for relief.

Amanda let out a soundless cry, her back arching so violently it shook the booth. Her cunt spasmed wildly, gaping around the impossible thickness now fully seated inside her.

Bryce held there, panting above her, his cock fully buried, the obliterating fullness stealing her breath. “Told you it’d fit.”

Amanda blinked tears from her eyes. She could barely register anything beyond the depth, the brutal pressure, the sudden tremble in her legs.

And then – he pulled out an inch.

Only to push right back in. Deep. Deeper than before.

She sobbed breathlessly, her whole body jolting. Bryce wasn’t fucking her anymore. He was punishing her. Proving something.

He didn’t need the fist – not when he could grind every monstrous inch of cock into her raw, ruined pussy and force her to take it, stretch for it, swallow it whole. He’d promised it would fit, and now it had – brutally, obscenely, completely. This wasn’t just fucking – this was ownership.

She shook with the shock of being opened so wide, and in some broken corner of her mind, she felt proud of it. He didn’t need to jam his hand in her – he’d already made her a sheath for the biggest cock she’d ever known, and she was holding every inch like a good little charity slut. She couldn’t help it. She clenched around him as if to say thank you.

He shoved again – harder, slower this time, grinding against resistance. Amanda’s body screamed around him – her cunt gaping, juices flooding down her thighs, ass jiggling with every slap of his hips. This hurts. God, it hurts. Tears blurred her vision. This is for Paul. For the charity. But beneath the pain, beneath the rationalizations, a darker pulse beat – the raw, undeniable thrill of being utterly dominated, stretched beyond limits, used like this in public. A secret, shameful heat bloomed, separate from Paul, separate from the cause – a pleasure born purely from the violation itself.

He shifted his grip – one hand clawing into her hip, the other sliding up her spine – and began to move faster. Not just hard now, but fast. Furious. Slamming into her with brutal, jarring rhythm. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the booth, echoed by Amanda’s ragged gasps and broken whimpers. She clung to the booth’s edge, arms trembling violently.

Her cunt clenched around him in panic, in overstimulated exhaustion – and Bryce groaned like he’d been waiting for that exact response.

No warning. Just a guttural growl and the sudden, scalding flood of hot cum deep inside her, thick spurts flooding her battered cunt, cum pushing past the tight seal around his shaft and dribbling down her thighs. He didn’t pull out. He shoved in to the hilt and held her there, forcing her body to lurch in its restraints until something creaked – not the booth, but her.

She thought for a moment she might black out – not from pain, but from how deep he was.

She shook uncontrollably as another surprise climax took hold, her entire body locked around him, trembling and used.

When he finally stepped back, she sagged forward against the booth, panting, a puddle of cum already leaking down her thighs. Her pussy twitched open helplessly, gaping, red, ruined.

Behind the curtain, Amanda’s pussy twitched helplessly, still stretched wide and leaking profusely, cum spattering on the wooden plank beneath her. It no longer closed fully. Not yet. Maybe not for a while.

And then… he came around front.

Amanda lifted her head, dazed, face flushed and glowing with the aftershocks. Her lips parted in surprise.

Bryce smirked, holding up a $5 bill. “Mind if I get a kiss?”

She hesitated – but the curtain was open, and the line was still moving. She leaned forward slowly, still panting, and pressed a shaky kiss to his lips.

He lingered just long enough to murmur, “Tightest bitch I’ve ever ruined. He your husband, back there?”

Amanda’s eyes widened as she looked around to see if he had heard the man. “Y-yeah, that’s Paul.”

The man grinned, eyes flicking down the aisle to where Paul stood in front of a dart throwing game, entirely unaware. “Damn. You’re shameless.” Then, smirking at Amanda: “You might wanna ice that pussy down before the next round.”

Amanda laughed nervously, face crimson, still panting, her lips trembling from the kiss and her whole body slick with cum and sweat. Her thighs spasmed gently, overstimulated and trembling. “Be nice,” she said, trying to smile, “he’s sensitive.”

The man winked. “So’s that hole.”

And then he walked away – leaving Amanda trembling, half-heartedly smiling at the next kisser, her pussy still dripping, her mind spiraling.

Behind the booth, Sophie had stopped the next man from moving up for his turn. She opened the back curtain and peered in, afraid of what she would find.

The sight hit her like a slap. Amanda was still locked in position, her ass quivering, twitching open, leaking Bryce’s thick cum in viscous ropes that slid down her trembling thighs. Her hips were red, bruised, trembling, and the entire booth smelled of sex – raw, overused, obscene.

Sophie’s eyes flicked down, and her stomach twisted tighter. He hadn’t pulled out. Bryce hadn’t even tried. The thick, creamy mess leaking from Amanda’s ruined pussy left no doubt. Amanda had asked – specifically, sweetly – to be protected. Sophie had promised. And still she’d taken the money. She’d let it happen.

She stared at Amanda’s slack hole, gaping around nothing now, and felt a ripple of nausea and arousal curl up her spine. The image was obscene. Irrevocable. Paid for.

Amanda had no idea. She was still shaking, whispering thank-yous, lips trembling with exhausted bliss. She might not even be aware after an intense fucking like that, or so Sophie hoped. She probably thought she was protected. She probably thought Sophie had made sure.

And maybe that’s what Sophie would let her believe.

Sophie’s gut twisted with the weight of what she’d allowed. What she’d taken money for. She stared at Amanda’s ravaged body, her own hand still clutching Bryce’s crumpled bills like they might burn her. She hated herself for how soaked she felt watching it happen, for the wet heat between her thighs that contradicted her guilt.

Amanda moaned softly – more reflex than awareness – and Sophie flinched, then took a breath. She couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. She stepped aside for the next donor, her face an unreadable mask. Another cock was already rising, another hand sliding bills toward Sophie’s waiting fingers.

She took the cash without blinking.

As Amanda tried to steady herself, another man stepped forward – a previous donor, now back for seconds. He leaned in with a smug grin, whispering just loud enough for the queue to hear: “Can’t believe that tight little thing’s still standing. You got a twin working the back end, or are you just built different?”

Amanda blinked rapidly, swallowing a moan. “Just trying to do my part,” she said with a watery smile.

20. CRISIS MANAGEMENT

The fairgrounds were quieting down. Booths shuttered, tents lowered, and the last traces of music faded into the warm dusk. Amanda stood unsteadily behind the kissing booth, her thighs still trembling, her pussy still leaking down her leg as the breeze kissed her raw, overused skin. She smiled weakly at the last departing guests, her eyes glassy.

Sophie stepped in behind her, placing a hand on her back. “Let’s get you out of there, sweetheart. You did amazing.”

Amanda nodded, barely able to speak. Her knees threatened to buckle as Sophie helped her stand. As the restraints were undone, she leaned heavily against Sophie’s shoulder, blinking in dazed exhaustion.

Paul had texted twice, but Sophie had already taken Amanda’s phone. “You need space,” she’d told her earlier, “and I’ll handle Paul.”

They didn’t go back to Amanda’s house.

Instead, Sophie brought her home – to her loft, with its open spaces and soft lighting, its wide bathtub and chilled wine. She helped Amanda undress in the bathroom, gently wiping away the layers of sweat and cum with a warm cloth, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror.

Sophie scrolled through Paul’s messages, each one more anxious than the last.

Paul: Hey. Is Amanda with you? She didn’t answer her phone.
Paul: I thought she said she’d be home after the fair.
Paul: Is everything okay??
Paul: She seemed… kind of out of it earlier. I just want to make sure she’s alright.
Paul: Please call me.

Sophie stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box. Paul didn’t know what he’d seen. Not really. His version of today’s events was clean, contained, symbolic.

He had no idea Amanda had spent the afternoon getting destroyed behind the curtain. No idea what she was still leaking. No idea what might be growing inside her now.

She tapped out her reply with deliberate care.

Sophie: She’s okay. Just exhausted. I brought her back to my place so she could crash – she nearly passed out helping with the booth. I’ll keep her here tonight. Don’t worry.

Paul: Is she sick? Should I come by? Can I talk to her?

Sophie hesitated.

Sophie: She’s sleeping. I’ll have her text you in the morning. She just needs space right now.

She watched the little “typing…” bubble appear and vanish.

Paul: Tell her I love her. Please.

Sophie turned the phone over and let it buzz in silence as she returned to Amanda’s side.

Amanda hissed as the cloth brushed between her legs. “Still… sore.”

Sophie’s hands slowed, her face unreadable. “You were perfect today.”

Amanda met her eyes. “Was it too much?”

Sophie sat at the edge of the bathtub, elbows on her knees, watching as Amanda slowly lowered herself into the warm water. The tub hissed as her skin made contact – already raw, visibly bruised in places. Her thighs glistened faintly from the slow, constant leak that hadn’t fully stopped.

Amanda winced as the water touched her. “God,” she whispered. “Everything hurts.”

Sophie didn’t respond at first. She was staring – at the redness, the stretch, the way Amanda’s pussy refused to close. It looked… used. Claimed. Fucked in a way that left no doubt it had been owned.

Her fingers twitched in her lap.

“I should’ve stopped him,” she murmured, almost too quiet for Amanda to hear.

Amanda blinked. “What?”

Sophie sat up straighter. “Bryce. That whole last thing. I shouldn’t have let him go in.”

Amanda exhaled slowly, her eyes distant. “You didn’t make him show up.”

“No. But I didn’t stop him, either.” Sophie’s voice cracked. “You were already exhausted. And I… I just kept counting the money.”

She tried to push the image away – but it clawed through:
Zach, that night on the stairs. The pressure of his breath behind her ear. The way he spat the word slut like it was a punch.

“You think you’re better than me? After what he told me?”

Sophie blinked hard, breathing shallow. The New Dawn donation counter had rolled past six figures during Amanda’s shift. She’d told herself it was worth it. It had to be.

Amanda turned her head, her expression wavering between fatigue and accusation. “You said no roughness. No damage. You said that.”

“I know.” Sophie looked down. “I broke my own rule.”

A long pause.

Amanda’s breath hitched. “At least you made everyone use protection.”

Sophie froze.

That moment lasted too long.

Amanda turned sharply. “Sophie?”

The guilt welled in Sophie’s chest like bile – but she swallowed it.

Instead, she laughed – soft and bitter. “Are we seriously doing this right now? After you spent the whole day getting railed by strangers while kissing your husband between loads?”

Amanda flinched, face flushing.

“That wasn’t – ” she started, then stopped.

Sophie seized the momentum, standing and pacing.

“You wanted this, Amanda. You begged me to help you be more open. You told me Paul wanted it. That he loved you for it.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Sophie snapped. “You said he didn’t want to know. That it made him happy as long as you kept it vague. I asked you if you were sure, remember? You told me you knew what he wanted.”

Amanda looked away, shame coloring her features.

Sophie softened – but only slightly.

“I didn’t hold you down,” she said, voice quieter. “You didn’t say no. You didn’t even try.”

Amanda opened her mouth – then closed it. Her legs shifted in the water. The sore stretch of her pussy sent a ripple through her core.

A flicker of doubt crossed her face. “It didn’t feel… like that. At first.”

Sophie knelt beside the tub, her hand brushing Amanda’s damp hair.

“Then don’t rewrite it now,” she said gently. “Don’t ruin it for yourself. You gave those men something real. And Paul… Paul doesn’t want to know the details, remember?”

Amanda swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t understand. He likes the way he saw it.”

“Exactly.” Sophie’s fingers trailed down Amanda’s cheek. “So don’t make yourself explain them.”

Sophie’s voice dropped, becoming intensely serious. “Amanda, listen to me. Paul thinks he wants openness, but he’s fragile. He’s still scared. He can’t handle the reality of what you experienced today. If you tell him the truth – the raw details, the pain, the… the mess – you will break him. You will shatter his illusion of you, and you will damage his trust in himself and in your relationship. You’ll make him feel inadequate, maybe even disgusted.” She squeezed Amanda’s hand tightly. “You love him, right? You don’t want to hurt him?”

Amanda’s eyes welled with tears. “No! Never.”

“Then you have to protect him from this,” Sophie said, her voice firm but gentle. “It’s not lying, Amanda. It’s… curating the truth. You’re giving him the version he can handle, the version that lets him keep being the supportive husband you need. You’re protecting the magic of what you have together.”

She paused, letting that sink in. “He doesn’t need to know the mechanics. He needs to know that you love him and that his trust made you brave enough to do something incredible today. That’s the truth that matters to him.”

Amanda nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face. The idea of protecting Paul, of preserving their relationship by withholding the painful details, felt like a new, heavy form of love. “Okay,” she whispered. “I understand.”

After a beat, Sophie grabbed the soap. “Good. Let’s just wash today off you, okay?”

A long silence passed. Then Amanda nodded, almost imperceptibly.

And the question never came again.

The bathtub was nearly silent, the only sound the faint ripple of water shifting as Amanda drew one leg slowly up out of the water, inspecting it like it belonged to someone else. Her thighs were raw, flushed with bruises that ranged from handprints to ugly, blunt smears of violet-black pressure. Faint red crescents from the restraints still ringed her ankles. Just beneath her navel, a darker bruise bloomed – a reminder of how hard Bryce had pulled her hips into each punishing thrust.

Sophie swallowed. Her throat felt dry.

Even in the dim light, she could see the way Amanda’s breasts rose and fell too quickly. Her breathing hadn’t evened out since they got back. She’d been like that for hours – adrift, trembling softly, her focus fractured. Not crying. Not talking much either. Just… stunned.

The water beneath Amanda’s thighs was cloudy. Sophie told herself it was the bath salts. She knew better. Traces of Bryce still leaked from her – white streaks diluted in pink. She’d bled, just a little. Not enough to panic. Enough to make Sophie’s stomach knot.

She had broken her own rule. No blood. No raw, gaping aftermath. No irreversible damage.

And yet, Amanda had taken it.

No – Amanda had welcomed it. Had smiled through it, moaned through it, even whispered thank yous between guests while her cunt was visibly distending from another brutal fuck.

Sophie exhaled shakily, gripping the doorframe as her jaw clenched.

She’d told herself she was in control. That she was protecting Amanda. That she had standards.

But when Bryce put that cash in her hand – stack after crisp stack – she didn’t hesitate. Not really. She’d told him three minutes. No marks. No cum inside. And then she’d turned her back and left.

To protect Paul. To keep the fantasy intact. And in those minutes, she’d sold Amanda.

Sophie’s hand flexed involuntarily, fingers tightening against the doorframe. She was wet. She hated that she was wet.

Her eyes drifted down Amanda’s body again. The girl had curled one arm around her stomach now, cradling it like she was afraid it might split open. Her other hand floated limp in the water. Her face – God, her face was still soft. Serene even. Her lashes fluttered, her mouth slightly parted, like she was meditating.

Or dissociating.

“You okay?” Sophie asked quietly.

Amanda didn’t open her eyes. She nodded once. “Sore.”

Sophie stepped closer. Her voice dropped. “Anywhere torn?”

“No.” A pause. “I don’t think so.”

She looked at Amanda’s pussy, half-submerged but clearly swollen – gaping even now, slightly parted and tender red. The muscles had given up. They were done trying to close. There was no hiding what had happened to her. No modesty left to offer.

And Amanda didn’t seem to care.

Sophie sank to her knees beside the tub.

“I shouldn’t have let him,” she whispered.

Amanda finally opened her eyes, hazy and soft. “Let who?”

Sophie couldn’t meet her gaze. “Bryce. That deep. That rough. You were already… he went past what I told him was okay.”

Amanda blinked slowly, processing that. “I didn’t even notice,” she said after a moment, almost dreamily. “I mean… I knew it was more. But I thought it was just part of it.”

Part of it.

Amanda tilted her head, brows furrowing faintly. “He felt different,” she murmured. “Like… not a person. A force. Something you let inside you because it’s too big to say no to.”

Sophie looked at her, hesitatingly before Amanda continued. “And I think part of me didn’t want to.”

Sophie looked down at her hands and whispered, “You took everything. Even that.”

Then she looked Amanda in the eye and added, with something between apology and reverence, “And I don’t think I can protect you anymore.”

Amanda closed her eyes, sighing into the water. Her hand drifted lazily across her belly, down toward her thighs, but she stopped herself. “I don’t think Paul could ever make me feel like that. Not after today.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You mean because it was public? Or – “

Amanda met her gaze again. “Because of the size. The pressure. The stretch. Paul’s never even… I didn’t know what I was missing.”

Silence. Then:

Laughter burst out from Sophie’s chest before she cut herself off.

After a moment, “You’re a size queen,” Sophie said, voice low, amused.

Amanda giggled softly at the idea, covering her face with one hand. “God. Maybe.”

Sophie leaned in, brushing Amanda’s damp hair away from her forehead. “You were glowing after every one of them. But Bryce? You looked… destroyed.”

Amanda shivered. “And I came harder than I ever have. Even now, thinking about it… I feel it in my gut. Like it changed something.”

Sophie’s fingers trailed down Amanda’s arm, light and teasing. “It did. And you’re not going back. Not really. Not all the way.”

Amanda didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away.

Sophie sipped her wine again. “Paul doesn’t need to know the specifics. Not everything. Just enough to keep him proud of you. Grateful.”

Amanda nodded slowly, then hesitated. Her brow furrowed, lips parting as if to speak, then closing again. When she finally found the words, they came haltingly.

“I still love him so much. I do.” She looked down at the rippling bathwater. “He’s good to me. Kind. He listens. He’s… home.”

Sophie stayed quiet, watching her.

Amanda’s voice dropped, a whisper. “But ever since that moment… I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt. The size. The depth. The way I couldn’t control any of it. The way they made me feel like something to be used – and how much I wanted that. Not just liked it. Needed it. And Paul – he’s never… even come close.”

She shook her head quickly, like she was trying to dismiss the thought, ashamed of it. “God, that sounds so fucked up. I’m horrible. I told myself this was for him. That I was being open, adventurous, the way he wanted. But now? Now I think I wanted it more than he ever could.”

Sophie’s eyes sharpened. She leaned forward slightly. “You’re not horrible. You’re finally awake.”

Amanda looked up, startled.

Sophie kept going, her voice gentle but deliberate. “You’ve been playing the good wife. Following his lead. Making yourself smaller so he could feel big. But what happened today? That wasn’t small. That was transcendence. That was your body claiming something it deserves. You felt real. And not because it was taboo. Not just because it was public or rough. But because your body was finally filled – finally satisfied.”

Amanda’s lips trembled. Her thighs shifted slightly beneath the water. Her voice was barely audible. “I don’t want to admit that I need more than him.”

“You don’t have to,” Sophie murmured, sliding closer. “Not out loud. Not to him. You just have to be honest with yourself. You can still love him. Still kiss him goodnight. But this – ” she gestured down to Amanda’s submerged, aching body, ” – this belongs to something bigger. To the version of you that doesn’t settle. And don’t forget that Paul wants this for you.”

Amanda closed her eyes and let that sink in. The idea of being loved one way… and fucked another. That maybe there were two versions of herself – and only one of them had been getting what she truly needed.

Amanda looked down at herself, at the bruises on her thighs. Her fingers traced a faint abrasion along the edge of her hip, where the frame must’ve cut into her skin.

“But today was okay,” Amanda added softly. “I mean, I wanted to take it. I wanted to be… good.”

“You were good,” Sophie said instantly, voice cracking. “You were amazing.”

“I don’t know if Paul would think that.”

Sophie hesitated. Then leaned in, brushing Amanda’s damp hair behind her ear. “Paul doesn’t need to think it. You did it for him. He said he wanted you to be open, didn’t he?”

Amanda smiled faintly. “I think I was too open.”

Sophie smiled back – but it was brittle.

She should have stopped Bryce.

She should have said no.

But watching Amanda now – wrecked, sore, glowing – Sophie couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Amanda was becoming. This wasn’t a ruin – it was a rebirth. Sophie had taken the shy, sweet girl who believed sex was emotional and cracked her wide open, fucked the faithfulness out of her, broken her on the altar of her husband’s permission.

Sophie’s chest tightened.

But Amanda wasn’t scared. She was hungry.

That was the worst part. Or the best. Sophie didn’t know anymore.

She reached for a clean towel, trying not to shake. “Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Amanda nodded, and leaned into Sophie’s touch.

And in the quiet, Amanda realized something else.

She would do it all over again if she could.

And Sophie saw it too.

In the morning, Sophie realized two things: Paul would expect Amanda to come home – and Amanda couldn’t. Not like this.

The marks Bryce left on her hips were too distinct. Her thighs were still red, lined with bruises and faint streaks where her skin had stretched too far. Sophie had seen the way Amanda had winced getting out of bed, how she moved stiffly, her body still leaking softly into the towel beneath her.

Sophie turned her back to Amanda for a moment and composed a new message.

Sophie: She’s still wiped out. Long day, sore muscles. I figured I’d keep her here and get her some proper breakfast. I’ll bring her by later this afternoon. Give her a little recovery time.

Paul’s reply was immediate.

Paul: Okay. Thanks for watching out for her. She says you’ve really helped her grow.

Sophie stared at those words. Her chest twisted.

Yes, she thought. I have.

But maybe not the way you meant.

Amanda shuffled out of the bathroom, hair damp from the shower, wrapped in one of Sophie’s oversized shirts. She sat gingerly on the couch, wincing as she adjusted her weight.

Sophie poured her coffee.

“We need to talk,” she said gently. “About how today’s going to go.”

Amanda looked up, guarded. Her body still ached, her hips stiff from bruises she hadn’t yet let herself examine. Her thighs tingled faintly from the shower’s heat, every movement reminding her what she’d endured – and what she hadn’t stopped. Emotion flickered in her eyes: guilt, confusion, something she wasn’t ready to name.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Paul’s going to see you. And you’re not ready for that. Not until you’ve… covered things up. Physically. Emotionally.”

Amanda looked down at her bare legs, at the fresh marks. Her fingers traced a bruise without thinking.

“I’m not going to lie to him,” she said slowly.

“You don’t have to,” Sophie said smoothly. “Just don’t tell him anything he doesn’t ask. And if he does ask? Keep it vague. Focus on how grateful you are. How good it felt to raise money. How proud you are to be his wife. Let your love for him be the thing he hears – not the details.”

Amanda looked uncertain. “What if he asks why I didn’t come home?”

Sophie smiled gently. “Tell him you were sore. That I insisted you sleep it off. That you needed space to reflect on how much you’d grown. Which is true, isn’t it?”

Sophie leaned in, voice quieter. “There’s one more thing. When you’re with Paul today… don’t use a condom.”

Amanda blinked. “What? Why?”

Sophie gave a soft, reassuring smile. “Because that’s what he wants. Connection. Intimacy. After all the teasing, after seeing how open and generous you’ve become… he needs to feel close to you again. No walls.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed, still wary. “But we usually don’t… I mean, not unless we’ve planned it.”

“That’s why it matters,” Sophie said gently, brushing Amanda’s damp hair back from her face. “Today is about giving Paul what he needs – without having to say it out loud. Let your body do the talking. Let it be a thank you, a reunion, a promise.”

Amanda was quiet for a moment, conflicted.

Sophie continued. “You’ve been through a lot. You gave so much yesterday. Paul doesn’t need to know the details – but he’ll feel everything you want to say if you just let him in. Fully. Trust him to want you completely.”

Amanda took a breath. “Okay.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her thoughts swirled – memories of Paul’s gentleness, his uncertainty, how proud he’d looked even in his confusion. She felt the ache in her hips, the rawness still lingering between her legs. She was sore, stretched, and unsure.

Part of her recoiled at the idea of more, of offering her body again so soon. But beneath that hesitation, something else stirred – an echo of yesterday’s intensity, a craving to be seen, to be wanted. And Sophie’s words clung to her like a thread of purpose.

Sophie smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good girl.”

Later, Sophie returned to Amanda, holding a garment bag up as she entered.

Amanda, curled up on the edge of the guest bed in one of Sophie’s oversized shirts, looked up with bleary eyes. Her thighs were still raw, her hips sore, the pressure in her belly dull but constant. She hadn’t said much since breakfast.

Sophie sat beside her and unzipped the bag slowly. “I wasn’t sure if now was the right time,” she said gently, “but I think this might help.”

She held up a gauzy slip of fabric – soft ivory mesh edged in delicate lace. It shimmered slightly in the morning light. At first, Amanda thought it was a robe or nightgown, but as Sophie let the piece unfold, the details became clearer: the slit front parted with a hidden crotchless panel, the hips were draped with embroidered silk, the chest framed with adjustable satin ribbon, and most importantly, the sheer material was layered just enough to obscure her bruised thighs and marked hips.

Amanda blinked. “It’s… beautiful.”

“I made it for you,” Sophie said. “Originally, it was for your wedding night. But I think Paul needs something from you today. Some kind of reassurance.”

Amanda touched the fabric, fingers light. “But if he sees…”

“He won’t,” Sophie said quickly. “That’s the point. You keep it on. It’s designed to stay in place – so he won’t have to see what you don’t want to show. And you don’t have to pretend you’re fine when your body’s still recovering.”

Amanda hesitated, cheeks flushed. “But hiding still feels wrong.”

Sophie smiled, brushing a hand gently through Amanda’s hair. “You’re not hiding – you’re protecting. You’re giving him what he needs. And what he needs is to feel like the man you love. Like the man who brought you home.”

She held Amanda’s gaze. “He doesn’t want the details, remember? So don’t give them to him. Give him love. Give him softness. Let him know this is for him. And if he wants to be inside you… let him. You’ve already shown you’re strong enough to handle more than you thought.”

Amanda’s breath caught. She bit her lip, nodding slowly, unsure if it was guilt or gratitude that made her chest ache.

Sophie kissed her temple. “You don’t have to be naked to be honest. You just have to be generous.”

Amanda looked back at the garment again, and for the first time since the carnival, she didn’t flinch at the thought of going home.

21. PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY

Amanda stood outside the front door of their home, her hand hovering over the handle. Her heart beat too quickly – anxious, aching. Sophie’s carefully chosen outfit hugged her body like a whisper. The ivory mesh slip looked like romantic lingerie, modest enough to feel purposeful, but carefully tailored to obscure the bruises and soreness beneath.

Inside, Paul was pacing. He’d cleaned, she could tell – she saw the glint of the kitchen counter through the window, the smell of fresh linen when the door finally opened.

“Amanda,” he said, stepping into the frame, voice soft but thick with relief.

She smiled, warm but measured. “Hey.”

He reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug. She winced sharply, involuntarily, a gasp catching in her throat before she could mask it with a soft sigh. His hand had brushed the deep bruise blooming high on her hip, hidden beneath the ivory mesh slip. She leaned into him quickly, hiding her face against his chest.

“You okay?” Paul asked, pulling back slightly, his brow furrowed with concern.

Amanda forced a smile, avoiding his eyes. “Just sore,” she murmured. “Really overdid it for the charity yesterday. Worth it, though. And Sophie took good care of me.” She felt a twinge of nausea, remembering Bryce’s brutal force, the feeling of being split open.

Did Paul know how rough it got?

He kissed her forehead. “I hated not having you home.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just… needed a minute. Yesterday was a lot.”

Paul nodded, brushing her cheek. “You were amazing. Everyone kept talking about the kissing booth. Said you raised more money than anyone.”

Amanda blushed, a little too hard. “It was… intense. But I’m glad I could help.”

They moved inside, and Amanda let him lead her to the couch. He brought her tea – chamomile, with honey. The quiet domesticity wrapped around her like gauze, warm and strange. Her pussy throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

Paul sat beside her, unsure, hands brushing over her thigh.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Amanda laughed softly. “You can thank Sophie. She picked this out.”

He chuckled. “I should’ve known. It’s… sexy. But soft.”

Amanda leaned in and kissed him gently. She guided his hand higher along her thigh.

“I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you too.”

She shifted slightly, adjusting her body over his lap, moving slowly, purposefully. Her breath came in soft little hitches.

Paul blinked. “Are you sure? Aren’t you sore? I didn’t think – after yesterday…”

Amanda smiled. “I want to feel close to you. You said you were proud of me, right?”

“I am. I’m always proud of you.”

“Then let me show you how much that means to me.”

Amanda sank down onto Paul slowly, careful, her bruised thighs trembling beneath the sheer layers of Sophie’s gauzy gift. She never removed the slip. It fluttered over her hips, obscuring the marks, the bite-like bruises, the remnants of a dozen anonymous cocks. Paul thought it was romantic. Intimate.

Her cunt was still slack, tender, gaping slightly from the brutal use Sophie had worked so hard to hide. Paul didn’t notice. Not really. But his eyes lingered longer than usual, a flicker of confusion in the way his brow furrowed as he slid inside her.

She moved slow at first, letting her body adjust to Paul’s size – modest, familiar. The contrast was impossible to ignore. He felt small inside her now. She could barely feel him where she used to be full. The ache deep inside her pulsed with every shallow stroke, not from him – but from memory. She masked it with gentle moans, her hands stroking his chest.

As they moved together, Amanda leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

“Yesterday was so much,” she murmured. “I tried to keep barriers in place. With everyone. I thought you would want that.”

Paul blinked, not fully sure what she meant, but smiling softly, charmed by her closeness. “You were so generous with so many strangers, I’m not surprised you’re a little tired and overwhelmed.”

“I used up so many…” she laughed quietly, breath warm against his cheek. “I was afraid I’d run out. By the end I felt so exposed.”

Paul ran his hands along her waist, pressing her gently down onto him again.

“I know it’s scary, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “Letting people in… having real contact, deep and powerful. That’s what openness is. Vulnerable, yeah – but beautiful too.”

Amanda moaned, grinding deeper, his words sliding into her like encouragement.

“That’s what I wanted,” she whispered. “To let people in. To be open. I was too scared, and I wasn’t sure about you though. I thought maybe you wanted that too.”

“I do,” Paul breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I love that about you. You don’t hold back. You don’t want to hide. That’s rare.”

Amanda’s hips rolled faster now, more urgent.

“So… you don’t mind if there’s no more protection?” she asked, panting.

Paul blinked at the word, but assumed she meant emotionally. He smiled.

“I… yeah. If you’re comfortable, you don’t need barriers sweetheart. No more shields. Let yourself feel everything.”

Her cunt clenched at that. Her whole body fluttered.

“Even when it’s messy?” she asked, breathless. “Even when I can’t control how deep it goes… how full I get?”

Paul reached up to brush her hair back from her face.

“That’s what real openness is,” he said. “You let things in – even the parts that scare you. That’s what makes you… you.”

Amanda’s eyes glazed as she rocked harder, losing herself in the rhythm, in the ache, in his misunderstanding. Her body responded instinctively – soaked, twitching, desperate.

“I let so much in, Paul,” she gasped, half-confession, half-prayer.

“And I’m proud of you,” he said, gripping her hips. “You’re blossoming.”

She closed her eyes and kissed him, holding his face between her trembling hands. Her thighs burned. Her chest rose in stuttering breaths.

She kissed him deeply, tenderly, rocking in slow, desperate rhythm atop him. Her hips moved slow and shallow, letting him feel as much friction as her gaping pussy could manage. It wasn’t what she needed – but it was what Paul needed to believe.

Her lips brushed his ear as her voice dropped low.

“And if… something stayed with me?” she whispered. “Not just the feeling. Something real. Something alive.”

Paul froze for a moment, then blinked, confused – but her tone was so vulnerable, so honest. He smiled softly.

“That just means it changed you,” he said. “That it meant something. And that’s… beautiful too.”

Her breath caught. A wave passed through her as she clutched his shoulders, body both tense and yielding as she sank fully onto him, letting his modest length disappear inside her. It didn’t fill her. It didn’t stretch her. But he was so sure it did.

She kissed his cheek.

“But what if I couldn’t take it back?” she asked softly. “If it left something behind… something permanent?”

Paul ran his fingers along her waist. “Then it was meant to be part of your journey.”

Amanda’s cunt fluttered involuntarily – more from his words than his cock.

“And you’d still be here,” she pressed. “Even if it grew inside me? Even if it was… someone else’s?”

Paul blinked up at her again, startled – but still smiling.

“If it’s part of you,” he said gently, “then it’s part of us. I’d love whatever you carried. Because I love you. Your journey is my journey.”

He means it. He truly means it. He wants me to have these experiences, even the ones with… others. It’s his way of loving me, of setting me free. This is how I honor that trust. By taking what I need, and bringing the feeling back home to him.

She let out a ragged breath, steadying herself, willing the sound to pass for relief instead of hunger. Her pussy clenched, loose and overflowing with the evidence of someone else. Of everyone else.

Amanda’s voice fell to a whisper, as if the words themselves were too dangerous to speak aloud.

“And… if it happened again?” she asked. “If it happened… a lot?”

Paul laughed, cupping her face.

“Then you’re just living fully,” he said. “I told you – I love how open you are.”

Amanda bit her lip, gasping softly.

“Then I’ll try, for you,” she whispered. “I’ll try and experience more people. Let more things in. Even if they’re deep. Even if they’re scary.”

Paul pulled her close, moved by what he thought was emotional vulnerability.

“That’s what trust is,” he said. “You don’t have to protect me from anything. I just want you to feel everything.”

A pulse of need throbbed through her.

“You mean it? And what if it leaves a mark?” she asked.

Paul smiled gently, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead.

Paul: “Then we’ll figure it out together. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

Amanda moaned as he came – his small, eager load joining the flood already inside her. His arms wrapped around her like she was safe. Like she was his.

“I love you,” he said. “Whatever we become next – I’m ready.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

No more barriers.

No more doubts.

No more limits.