29. CAPITULATION

The hotel room door clicked softly behind Amanda as she stepped inside, her heart pounding against her ribs. The message had been simple – a time, a room number, and the command to wear something easy to remove. Sophie’s voice had been reassuring in her ear: “It’s okay, honey. You know you want this. It’s part of being open. It’s part of being loved.”

Amanda swallowed hard, her heart fluttering with a chaotic storm of emotions – nerves that prickled her skin, excitement that burned low and hot in her belly, fear that tightened her throat, and a gnawing, pulsing guilt that lurked just beneath it all. And yet, threading through it, stronger than she wanted to admit, was a deep, desperate arousal – a need so potent it made her thighs press together instinctively as she moved further into the dimly lit space. She wasn’t sure if she was trembling from anticipation or shame – only that she was trembling, and that there was no turning back now.

Bryce was waiting.

He stood by the window, backlit by the muted city lights, his broad shoulders casting a long, predatory silhouette across the carpet. He turned when he heard her enter, the slow, deliberate smile that spread across his face making Amanda’s knees weaken.

“Took you long enough,” Bryce rumbled, his voice thick with command.

Amanda shivered, heat pooling low in her loins. She let her purse drop to the floor, hesitating for only a moment before stepping forward. Bryce reached out, hooking two fingers into the strap of her dress and tugging it down her body with practiced ease. The soft fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her bare but for a delicate pair of heels – just as Sophie had instructed.

Bryce’s gaze swept over her slowly, hungrily, drinking in every inch of her exposed skin. His eyes lingered on the delicate line of her collarbones, the soft swell of her bare breasts – fuller now, heavier with the subtle promise of milk – and the way her nipples stood shamelessly erect in the cool air.

His attention drifted lower, taking in the softened roundness of her belly, the unmistakable swell of life she carried, a permanent mark of his dominance. The gentle flare of her hips had widened slightly, her thighs thickened, trembling with tension where they framed the slick, aching need of her exposed cunt.

Amanda flushed deeply under the intensity of his scrutiny, feeling every inch of herself laid bare, vulnerable, and judged. Yet she made no move to cover herself. She stood there – offered, surrendered – her body betraying her excitement as surely as the wetness glistening between her thighs. She was here. She was his.

“Get on the bed,” Bryce ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

Amanda obeyed, crawling onto the mattress with a slow, shaky grace, the slight weight of her swelling belly shifting her balance as she moved. She settled on her knees, arching her back instinctively, presenting herself just as he demanded – bare, exposed, trembling. Every inch of her pregnant body quivered, nerves and anticipation crackling through her like electricity. She could feel her slickness already dripping down her thighs, her cunt aching and swollen with need.

The cool air kissed her flushed, hypersensitive skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and thighs. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, every beat echoing the shameful, desperate pulse between her legs. Fear, guilt, hunger – it all tangled together, driving her deeper into her surrender. She was offering everything now. She had no defenses left.

Bryce undressed slowly, deliberately, letting her watch as he revealed himself inch by thick, heavy inch. Amanda’s breath caught in her throat as she drank him in – the dark, powerful lines of his chest, the broad cut of his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle running down his arms and thighs. Her gaze was helplessly drawn lower, to the heavy swing of his cock, already half-hard and thickening by the second.

He was obscene in his scale, a ruinous upgrade her body now measured everything else against. Her mouth went dry, her thighs squeezing together instinctively as she whimpered under her breath. He was every overwhelming memory made flesh – but bigger now, heavier, more undeniable. The knowledge that he now truly owned her twisted something low in her belly into a tight, aching knot of dread and desperate anticipation.

He approached, and Amanda whimpered softly, the sound escaping before she could catch it. Bryce chuckled, low and satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Bryce lined himself up against her dripping, trembling cunt, pausing for a breathless moment. Amanda whimpered, the need clawing at her, her body desperate for him even as her mind reeled.

“Please,” she heard herself whisper, voice trembling, raw with need. She remembered this.

Slowly, mercilessly, Bryce burrowed inside – inch by monstrous inch – the flared crown of his cock splitting Amanda open with a grinding, inexorable pressure that left her gasping. Her cunt, already reshaped by him during the carnival and again during the ultrasound, spasmed in wild recognition, desperate and terrified. She had dreamed of this pressure, ached for it without even realizing, and now that it was here – now that he was here – her body surrendered helplessly.

She sobbed, her back arching sharply, her thighs splaying wider without conscious thought, desperate to ease the impossible stretch. The sensation was unbearable – so much deeper, heavier than she remembered – and yet her cunt pulsed around him, slick and welcoming, as if her body were thanking him for coming back.

She could feel every vein, every pulsing ridge scraping against her hypersensitive walls as he fed more and more of his massive girth into her, forcing her soft, yielding body to accept him once again, to be reshaped anew. Every breath, every heartbeat tuned only to the mind-breaking sensation of Bryce’s cock claiming her, molding her insides to fit him – as if she’d been made for this. For him.

“God, please,” Amanda whimpered, rocking herself back instinctively, desperate to help him, desperate to be filled even as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

Her body knew him now, needed him – the thick, merciless stretch that no one else could ever replace. She couldn’t stop the wrecked, high sounds escaping her lips – desperate little gasps and broken sobs, half-choked cries of pleasure and terror as Bryce pushed deeper, slowly forging her open again, reclaiming what had already been remade for him.

Each inch seated inside her felt inevitable, a brutal, radiant fulfillment of what her body had ached for since the carnival, since the ultrasound, since the first time she had truly belonged to him. Her mind reeled, lost to the overwhelming invasion, her cunt spasming helplessly around the thickness she would never, could never, forget.

Her muscles strained, clenching futilely around the massive intrusion, fluttering helplessly as Bryce pushed deeper into the raw, tender channel he’d already ruined twice before. There was no true resistance left – only desperate, yielding spasms that welcomed the inevitable.

He fed her his cock in brutal, agonizing increments, forcing her trembling body to stretch wider, deeper, reshaping her again as though claiming an old conquest. Amanda cried out, a long, shuddering sob that ripped from her chest, the sound raw and broken, as the final thick inch forced its way inside her, seating him fully, grinding against the bruised, sensitive places that still bore his mark.

He buried his monstrous length to the hilt, and Amanda’s entire body quivered around him, helpless and overwhelmed, recognizing its true owner.

Only then did Bryce grip her hips with bruising force and begin to move – slow at first, each thrust a devastating grind that forced her walls to stretch anew around his girth. Amanda choked on every punishing stroke, her body jolting forward with each deep drive as Bryce rocked her relentlessly into the mattress. He took his time, savoring her helplessness, the obscene wet sounds of her cunt clutching futilely at his massive cock filling the room.

Gradually he picked up pace, each thrust gaining a brutal, punishing force that made Amanda’s breath catch in her throat and her sobs spill freely against the sheets. Her pregnant belly pressed into the mattress with every brutal impact, her body helpless to do anything but receive, to welcome, to be reshaped all over again. Bryce moved with terrifying certainty, with the slow, deliberate intent of a man marking what was already his, until Amanda was reduced to a shivering, wrecked, desperate thing – completely his, in every way that mattered.

Behind them, Sophie filmed silently from the corner, her presence a steady reminder of Amanda’s surrender. Amanda knew – this wasn’t just about pleasure. It was a record. Proof. A celebration of what she’d become.

“Tell me who owns this pussy now,” Bryce growled against her ear, punctuating the demand with a deep, grinding thrust that made Amanda scream.

Amanda sobbed, clawing at the sheets, her voice breaking apart:

“You! You own my pussy! It’s yours – I’m yours!”

Bryce groaned, shifting his grip higher along her hips, then bracing his weight as he shoved Amanda’s head and shoulders deep into the mattress, lifting her hips sharply into the air. She cried out, her hands scrabbling for purchase as her ass tilted upward, leaving her completely helpless, spread and trembling.

Bryce let loose then, pistoning into her with punishing, brutal force, the wet slap of flesh against flesh filling the room as Amanda screamed, sobbed, begged – each thick, devastating thrust driving the breath from her lungs, pushing her closer to the brink of incoherent surrender.

Her belly jostled helplessly with each impact, her cunt spasming wildly around the monstrous girth splitting her open anew, until finally her body gave out – collapsing fully onto the mattress as pleasure shattered through her, a final, helpless sob wrenching free from her throat.

“That’s it,” Sophie murmured from the corner, her voice low and thrilled. “Show us. Show him who you belong to.”

Bryce flipped her onto her back without warning, manhandling her pliant, trembling body with brutal ease. Amanda gasped, dazed, her hair fanning out against the sheets, her swollen, sensitive breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs parted instinctively, wide and desperate, offering herself to him without thought.

For a heartbeat, she caught a glimpse of him looming over her – massive, unstoppable – and then he grabbed her legs, hauling them up high against her chest, forcing her open even further. Amanda whimpered, wide-eyed, as Bryce lined himself up and drove into her again, slow and merciless, savoring the way her body quivered and yielded.

Amanda screamed, her nails digging helplessly into the sheets as the monstrous girth forced her open anew, stretching her obscenely wide, pushing into places that felt impossibly deep. Every inch slid inside with agonizing, glorious pressure, filling her so completely she could no longer tell where her body ended and Bryce began. She sobbed openly now, the helpless noises ripped from her throat with every brutal, overwhelming thrust – and still Bryce pushed deeper, grinding his hips against hers, forcing her to feel every vein, every ridge, every obscene, conquering inch.

Her belly trembled under the strain, her cunt fluttering in desperate spasms around the thickness she had been reshaped to crave. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was feel – every brutal, perfect moment of it – as Bryce claimed her all over again, without mercy, without restraint, without anything left between them but raw, annihilating pleasure.

“Oh God – Bryce – please – ” she gasped, her voice high and shaking, her thighs trembling wildly as he bottomed out inside her, grinding deep.

He set a rhythm then – deep, punishing thrusts that pulled almost all the way out before slamming his full, monstrous length back inside her, over and over. Amanda writhed beneath him, her body jolting with every brutal impact, sobbing, moaning, clawing at his shoulders as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her without mercy.

Each thrust knocked the air from her lungs, forcing broken, high-pitched cries from her throat, each one leaving her more shattered, more desperate, more hopelessly addicted to the devastating pleasure he forced into her. She clung to him like she was drowning, her body giving itself over to him completely, needing him to destroy her again and again.

Bryce fucked her through it all, every punishing stroke stamping his dominance deeper into her bones, until Amanda was nothing but a wrecked, soaked, gasping thing beneath him – her thighs slick and quivering, her belly trembling with the impact of each brutal thrust, her cunt gushing uncontrollably around his cock as he drove into her again and again. She sobbed, moaned, and gasped beneath him, her entire body a trembling, soaked, overstimulated ruin – broken open, reshaped, and surrendered completely. She was ruined and radiant, his forever.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks – from the physical assault of sensation, from the terrible, beautiful rightness of it. Amanda pressed frantic, desperate kisses against Bryce’s neck, his jaw, the edge of his mouth – whatever part of him she could reach. Her whispered thanks spilled out between sobs and kisses, a broken, reverent litany: “Thank you… thank you… thank you for making me yours…” She wrapped her arms tighter around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, surrendering everything she had left to give.

“That’s my girl,” Bryce growled against her throat, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

Amanda moaned brokenly, arching into him, accepting the truth of it with every ragged, desperate breath.

But Bryce wasn’t done.

His hand gripped Amanda’s jaw, tilting her flushed, tear-streaked face up toward his.

“Tell me,” he ordered, his voice low and brutal. “Whose cock do you love, Amanda?”

Amanda whimpered, her whole body shuddering under him. Her mouth opened – then closed – then opened again, no words coming out but broken gasps.

“Say it,” Bryce growled, thrusting deep and slow, grinding against her stretched, spasming walls. “Say the truth. Say it for the camera.”

From the corner, Sophie’s voice cooed softly, cruelly: “It’s okay, baby. Be honest. It’s part of being open.”

Amanda sobbed aloud, every thrust battering the confession closer to the surface, stripping her bare.

“Y-yours,” she gasped, the word catching in her throat. “Yours- I love your cock-“

Her voice cracked, tears spilling freely.

Bryce growled with satisfaction but didn’t let up. “And?” he pressed, his thrusts grinding even deeper.

Amanda thrashed under him, the final humiliation breaking over her in a crashing wave.

“Better than his,” she sobbed. “So much better than Paul’s – nothing’s ever – ever felt like you!”

Her words dissolved into a high, keening wail as Bryce hammered into her with savage, relentless force. Her body locked up around him, spasming wildly, uncontrollably, her cunt clenching in frantic, fluttering aftershocks. Amanda sobbed brokenly, her thighs shaking violently as Bryce drove into her one final time, grinding deep and hard, filling her utterly.

With a low, brutal groan, Bryce buried himself to the hilt, his cock swelling thickly inside her – and then he came, erupting in massive, forceful pulses that flooded her wrecked, gaping cunt.

Amanda wailed, her cunt spasming violently as molten ecstasy flooded her womb and gushed down her thighs in thick surrender, soaking her skin, the sheets, everything. She clung to him, gasping, wrecked and overwhelmed, her body trembling with the last, shattering echoes of pleasure.

In the corner, the camera lens gleamed – capturing every raw, trembling moment of Amanda’s final, radiant collapse.

Amanda belonged to him now.

Bryce withdrew slowly, savoring every ruined inch of her. Amanda whimpered brokenly, her whole body shuddering as his monstrous cock dragged free, the slow pull scraping along her hypersensitive, overstretched walls until she was left gaping and trembling, the emptiness inside her as raw and aching as the fullness had been overwhelming.

Amanda whimpered brokenly, her cunt fluttering in frantic, helpless spasms around the monstrous cock slipping free. Her hips gave a weak, instinctive roll upward toward the retreating thickness, a desperate, betrayed motion – as if her body couldn’t bear to lose him.

She lay there, broken open and trembling, gasping for breath as Bryce’s cum seeped steadily from her ruined, gaping cunt, warm and thick against the tender, overstretched flesh of her thighs. She could feel the wetness pooling beneath her, soaking into the sheets, marking her as thoroughly as the bruises already blooming across her hips. Every pulse, every slow leak from deep inside her was a searing, shameful reminder that she had been claimed, filled beyond all reason, remade for him.

As the camera zoomed in to capture every detail of her dripping, gaping pussy, Amanda twitched, her ass gently probing upward toward the empty air, her body still searching for him. Still craving more.

And yet – amid the wreckage – Amanda felt a terrible, radiant peace. This was what she’d needed. What she had been aching for without knowing. She clung to the fullness he’d left inside her, a part of her not wanting it to end, terrified of the emptiness to come.

She thought of Paul – sweet, loving Paul – the man who had loved her enough to set her free, to trust her with her own desires. Her heart ached with love for him even now, because without his trust, she would never have found this dark, overwhelming completion.

And yet – a bitter pang twisted through her chest – she hadn’t done it for Paul. Not really.

Amanda whimpered brokenly, curling onto her side, one hand resting protectively over her swollen belly as the slow, hot trickle of Bryce’s seed continued to escape her – the living proof of the truth she could no longer deny.

Sophie stepped closer, her voice low, sweet, coaxing. “Amanda, sweetheart… tell him what this meant to you.”

Amanda, still gasping for breath, turned her tear-streaked face toward the camera, her voice shaking with exhausted sincerity. “Thank you… for loving me enough to let me find this. Thank you for setting me free.”

The camera lingered on her ruined, trembling form – slick, dripping, glowing with the radiant wreckage of her surrender, then zoomed slowly, lovingly, down the length of Amanda’s shaking, semen-slicked body – lingering on the way her ruined cunt still twitched helplessly around the emptiness he left behind.

Off-camera, Sophie smiled coldly. “Perfect.”

She tapped the button to end the recording.

30. OPEN TO NEW EXPERIENCES

Sophie sat across from Amanda in the kitchen, her wineglass barely touched. Amanda looked nervous, twirling her fingers around the rim of her glass.

“He’s trying,” Amanda said softly. “But it’s like… there’s a wall he can’t get past. He wants to please me, but he still thinks it’s about performance. About him. I don’t think he gets it – what openness really means.”

Sophie leaned back, smiling gently. “Then help him understand. He needs to feel it – what it’s like to be opened by someone else. Just like you did.”

Amanda blinked. “You mean… actually peg him?”

Sophie nodded. “I’ve already talked to him about it. He’s scared, but he wants to do it. Start small. Something manageable. A symbolic reversal. Let him feel what he’s asking of you – how much trust it takes. If he can’t do that, how can he claim to support your journey?”

Amanda bit her lip, her breath catching. “That’s… a lot.”

“You’re already halfway there. He trusts you. He wants to please you. This is just another step.” Sophie’s voice was low, almost coaxing. “He needs this to grow. And you need it too.”

Later that night, Amanda waited in the bedroom, a small box on the bed beside her. Inside was a slender, unmarked dildo – just five inches long, with a relatively narrow 3.5-inch circumference. It was clearly a beginner’s toy, soft and nonthreatening. But it was still larger than Paul’s cock by a noticeable margin.

The snug fit of the harness pressed tightly against her hips and belly, the thick straps framing the subtle roundness she now carried with every step. Her growing curves – softer, heavier – made her feel hyperaware of every brush of fabric against her swelling breasts, every tremble of movement that stirred through her body.

The harness Sophie had sent her had a built-in vibrator that increased in intensity with the strength of the thrust, designed to reward movement with mounting stimulation – motion-activated to reward each push with a rising hum of pleasure, nestled snugly against Amanda’s clit. She hadn’t realized until she strapped it on how quickly her own arousal would build. The gentle hum against her sensitive nub was a low, insistent tease – just enough to keep her throbbing.

She shifted slightly, testing the fit – and gasped as a low hum teased her clit. When she thrust forward, even gently, the vibration surged. Each motion fed the intensity. Her breath caught. The gentle sway of her fuller breasts, the ache in her stretched hips, made every movement feel exaggerated, more intimate. She flushed with the raw, physical reminder of how much her body had changed – and how much more sensitive she was now.

When Paul walked in, Amanda was already in her robe, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“I want to try something,” she said. “I think it could bring us closer. But you have to really trust me.”

Paul hesitated, searching her face. “Okay,” he said. “If it’s something you need.”

Amanda kissed him softly. “I do. And I think you do too.”

She started slow. The harness was snug on her hips, the toy gently buzzing. Paul lay on his back, legs up, breathing shallow. Amanda slicked the dildo thoroughly, her hands trembling with excitement and nerves. She teased around his rim, whispering encouragement.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

Paul whimpered as the tip made first contact – slick, smooth, and gently insistent against his clenched rim. The small dildo’s head pressed forward, its rounded tip nudging against the tight resistance. Amanda guided it slowly, feeling his body tense beneath her. The motion-activated vibrator in her harness responded immediately, buzzing faintly against her clit with each minuscule adjustment.

With the head only partway in, Paul clenched, his breath catching. Amanda paused, her voice soft and coaxing as she stroked his thigh. Then, unable to help herself, she tried again – this time with slightly more determination.

“It’s not even that big,” she whispered, more to herself. “You can do this. I want you to do this for me.”

But her own arousal was mounting fast – each thrust she made, however tentative, intensified the vibration nestled against her clit, feeding a cycle of stimulation that made it harder and harder to stop. The constant buzz against her clit, the control, the power – it was intoxicating.

She licked her lips, pressed a little deeper. Paul gasped, writhing slightly.

“Amanda- wait-“

This wasn’t like her usual touch… it felt… demanding. Urgent. Why wasn’t she stopping? A cold knot of betrayal tightened in his gut, sharper than the physical pressure.

But she didn’t. Not yet.

“Just hold on, baby,” she murmured, eyes slightly glazed. “You’re doing great. I’m not hurting you… just breathe through it. Every little thrust makes it feel better – just let me move a little more.” She told herself she was doing this for Paul. Helping him grow. Showing him how much trust could feel like connection. But as her thighs tensed and her clit buzzed harder, that noble intent started to blur.

The motion-activated vibrator surged more intensely with each of Amanda’s movements, its intensity increasing in direct response to the speed and depth of her thrusts. As she adjusted her hips and began a series of fast, shallow motions, the buzz against her clit became sharp and insistent, drawing a gasping moan from her lips even as Paul cried out in discomfort.

“Amanda- seriously- stop- it burns-“

His voice partially cut through the fog, but Amanda didn’t respond right away. Her hips gave another quick, involuntary thrust, and the motion-activated vibrator responded immediately – buzzing sharper, hotter, more insistent. Each movement now deepened her craving, her muscles tightening as if trained by the vibration to chase more. The faster she moved, the more intense the pleasure became, building toward an orgasm that felt impossibly close. triggering a sharper buzz from the motion-activated vibrator grinding against her clit. Her eyes fluttered, lips parting in a trembling moan as she murmured, “Just one more second… it feels so good when I move… I’m almost…”

Paul groaned, clearly in pain now. “Amanda- please. Stop! I’m not ready. No-“

Still lost in the rhythm, Amanda adjusted her angle and tried again, her breath ragged. Each thrust she made triggered the motion-activated vibrator strapped against her clit, and the intensity didn’t just pulse – it increased with every movement. The deeper she pushed, the more forcefully the harness rewarded her, each jolt more intense than the last – an addictive crescendo that overrode everything else. The vibrator surged harder in direct response to her thrusting, magnifying her arousal exponentially. “I just need you to trust me,” she gasped, hips already moving faster on instinct. “I promise, I’m not hurting you…”

Paul’s hand finally pressed against her stomach, trembling from the effort of pushing back while Amanda’s thrusts – each one short, fast, and eager – continued to drive the vibrator into wild, escalating frenzy. Her every movement against the toy sent a jolt of stimulation through her clit, the motion-sensitive harness rewarding each tiny thrust with a sharper, more insistent buzz. Her breath came in gasps, eyes fluttering with the rhythm of her need. Paul’s physical discomfort was mounting – his body tensed with every shallow intrusion, his legs twitching, trying to hold steady – but Amanda barely noticed.

She suddenly pulled back, cheeks flushed and heart pounding, murmuring breathlessly, “Maybe more lube… that’s probably all it needs.” Reaching for the bottle, she squeezed another generous line onto the slick shaft, stroking it quickly with trembling fingers. Her hips twitched with anticipation as she repositioned herself behind Paul, determined to give it one last, well-lubricated try.

Driven by the rising hum between her thighs and the flush burning across her chest, Amanda adjusted her hips and gave one deep, hopeful thrust – deeper and harder than she’d managed before – trying to chase the climax that hovered just out of reach. That sudden, hungry plunge forced Paul’s back to arch as he let out a startled yelp of pain. His hands scrambled to push harder against her abdomen, his voice cracking. “Amanda – please! It hurts!”

That did it. Paul’s cry cracked the spell, a raw, frightened noise paired with a desperate and trembling resistance. Amanda barely heard it over the surge of the motion-activated vibrator buzzing furiously against her clit – its intensity peaking with every thrust – but the physical jolt caught her attention. Her hips stuttered mid-thrust, the stimulation still surging even as her body froze. For the first time, she noticed the pressure of Paul’s hand and the way his voice cracked – not in pleasure, but panic. Her eyes blinked open, the haze parting in one harsh snap. Her hips jerked back with sudden guilt, the harness still pulsing faintly, cruelly, between her thighs. She scrambled upright, straddling his legs with trembling limbs. Her hands braced on Paul’s thighs, her breath ragged and shamed, the weight of what she’d done settling over her in a crushing wave.

“Oh my God – I’m sorry,” she said, breathless and flushed. “I got carried away. I didn’t mean to… I just…”

Paul lay there, trembling, his face red with shame and discomfort. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Amanda leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You tried,” she whispered, brushing a sweaty curl from his temple. “And that means everything to me.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I got carried away. I was so turned on – I didn’t expect it to feel that good. The way the harness vibrated… every time I moved, it was like it pulled me deeper. I lost myself, and I’m so sorry. I should have listened when you said it hurt.”

She looked down, cupping his hand gently. “But you let me try. You trusted me. And even if it didn’t go perfectly, I… I appreciate it more than I can say. It was so hot, Paul. I didn’t know it would feel that intense – that good. I got carried away, and I’m sorry for that. But it meant so much that you were willing to let me try. I want to make this work. I want us to grow together. And this – this was the first step. And maybe, someday, if you’re ready… we could try again. But I promise – I’ll be more careful.”

But the next day, Amanda found herself at Sophie’s again, pacing nervously.

“He said he was okay,” Amanda said, “but I could tell it scared him. I thought I could guide him gently, but I pushed too hard.” She slowly shook her head. “I just don’t want to lose myself again,” Amanda said, her voice trembling. “It felt so good… too good.”

Sophie tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I think maybe you didn’t push hard enough. He’s never going to get there if he feels like he can say no the second things get real.”

Amanda frowned. “I don’t want to traumatize him.”

“You won’t,” Sophie said. “You’re too soft. He needs structure. Discipline. You’re emotionally tangled – too invested in protecting his feelings.”

Amanda hesitated.

Sophie stood. “Let me help. He needs a firm hand and a clear path. You remember how quickly he improved under my guidance with the oral training – he needs that same structure now. It’s time he really learned what it means to open up.”

Amanda exhaled, still flustered. Despite her guilt, the echo of his devotion throbbed between her thighs like an unanswered question. Seeing Paul that exposed… that vulnerable… it awakened something. And Sophie saw it.

Amanda finally nodded. “Okay. Teach him.”

Sophie’s fingers brushed Amanda’s wrist, her touch featherlight, predatory. “I’ll make sure he’s ready for you next time.”

Amanda glanced toward her phone, nerves and excitement knotting in her chest. Tomorrow she was back on the road again – the season was starting, and she would be traveling with the team for weeks at a time. She would miss Paul desperately. But Sophie’s words echoed in her mind, a dangerous, thrilling comfort:

“I’ll make sure he’s ready for you next time.”

31. AMANDA’S WAGER

Amanda lingered by the hotel doors, one hand on her rolling suitcase, the other casually resting atop her rounded belly. The team bus idled at the curb, players filtering out one by one, joking and shoving at each other as they loaded up. It was early – barely past sunrise – and Amanda looked radiant, even half-awake, dressed in a soft, charcoal-gray maternity tracksuit that hugged her curves without constriction. Her belly was unmistakable now, full and high beneath the stretch-fabric hoodie, and the shape made her look more desirable than ever to the men she traveled with.

They’d noticed. Over the past few trips, the dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t just playful flirting anymore. It was attention with weight behind it. Hunger. Respect. And ownership.

She felt it in the way they made space for her without being asked. The way Malik always offered his seat on the plane. The way Isaiah carried her bag up the stairs, even when she insisted she could manage. The way Reggie lingered behind her in tight elevators, close enough for heat to pass between their bodies, his hand resting a little too long on the small of her back.

And the way they looked at her – when she stretched after a long drive, when she tilted her hips to ease the tension in her spine, when she leaned against a wall mid-conversation and unconsciously rested a hand below her belly. Their eyes tracked those motions with reverence and desire.

She loved it.

Standing at the curb now, she waited until the last of them had stowed their gear. Then she stepped forward.

Amanda thought of Sophie’s words from the night before- He needs structure. Discipline. Maybe this was that structure, too. Not just for Paul, but for her. Paul had texted her that morning – something sweet and supportive. She hadn’t answered right away. He’d be with Sophie soon, training, and she didn’t want to distract him too much. She shook her head briefly and looked up at the players.

“Hey,” Amanda called, raising her voice slightly. “Before we head out… I just want to say how proud I am of you guys. I know this road stretch is going to be tough. Three games, back-to-back. But I believe in you.”

There were nods. A few muttered hell yeahs.

She smiled, letting her voice melt into a softer, sultrier register – an invitation steeped in promise.

“And I was thinking… if you sweep this trip – three wins, no losses – I’ll throw you a little afterparty when we get back. Just the team. No cameras. No limits.”

That got their attention.

J-Red raised an eyebrow. “What kind of party we talking, Amanda?”

She gave him a knowing look, one hand stroking slowly down her belly to rest just above her waistband.

“The kind where ‘no’ isn’t part of my vocabulary,” she murmured, her voice silk-thick with implication. “The kind where pulling out is off the table.”

Silence for half a beat. Then a ripple of low groans and appreciative murmurs.

Mason let out a whistle. “Shit, now I’m extra motivated.”

Malik grinned. “Sweep the trip, breed the rep. Got it.”

Amanda laughed. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away.

“Only if you earn it.”

She turned toward the bus, her ponytail bouncing as she climbed the steps. Behind her, the players moved faster – more energized, more focused. Like they had something real to play for.

And Amanda sat near the front, settled her hand over her belly again, and smiled to herself.

She already knew they’d win. And when they did, she’d spread for them like she’d spread for victory itself.

Not this time.

32. OPEN DEVOTION

The loft was dimly lit, candles flickering against exposed brick walls. Paul sat on the edge of the bed in a loose robe, hands nervously clutching the fabric. Sophie stood in front of him, dressed in a sleek black bodysuit that hugged her curves like armor. Behind her, on a velvet-lined tray, lay two custom dildos – one slightly thicker and longer than Amanda’s, molded in Marcus’s likeness, and another even larger, unmarked, coiled with veined, brutal realism.

Sophie held up the first one, letting the light catch on its glossy surface. “This one,” she said, “is your first goal. Custom-made. A proper stretch – not out of reach, but still something you’ll have to earn.”

Paul blanched. Even with the much smaller toy Amanda had used, he’d barely managed a few inches before she had to stop. This was nearly eight inches long, with a solid five-inch girth. His mouth opened, then closed again.

“I… don’t think I can…”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You said that about the last one. And you still tried. You’ll try this too.”

He looked away, cheeks red. “It hurt.”

“You’ll learn,” she said simply. “Amanda needs a partner who can understand her expansion, her new depths, her willingness to surrender – not just to pleasure, but to the openness you inspired. A partner who understands her deeply, and has empathy toward what he asks of her, and what it means to be a woman. You said you want to grow with her, didn’t you?”

Paul nodded slowly. “Yes, of course but-“

“Then get on your knees.”

The setup was clinical. Sophie had laid out lube, gloves, a soft towel for comfort. She wasn’t cruel – yet. But her tone had shifted. This wasn’t Amanda’s gentle encouragement. This was instruction.

As Paul balked, Sophie stepped closer, her voice dropping low.

“You know what happens if you fall behind again, don’t you? Amanda is thriving, Paul. She’s glowing. Active. Growing and stretching with the help of her friends. And she’s trying so hard to keep you in her heart through all of it.”

She crouched down so they were eye to eye, her voice soft but slicing.

“If she starts to feel like you can’t keep up… if she starts to believe you’re holding her back… she won’t say anything. She’ll just drift. Slowly. And one day, you’ll wake up and she’ll be someone else’s for good. Someone who makes her feel open, satisfied, and understood. Do you want that?”

Paul’s throat tightened. He shook his head.

“Then it’s your turn to stretch. Learn. Submit. Every inch, no matter how painful, proves to her that you’re committed to growing alongside her, no matter how far she has to stretch. Every moan you swallow reminds her that you believe in what she’s becoming. That you believe in the two of you.”

Paul paused, then knelt, trembling.

Sophie lubed a smaller training plug – no more than four inches long and barely thicker than her pinkie. “You’re not ready for Marcus,” she said. “You can’t even take a plug the size of my finger without shaking.”

She pressed the plug slowly against his twitching rim. It resisted. Paul’s breath hitched as it popped in, just barely. The pressure made his whole body tense.

“Hold it,” she said.

Ten long minutes passed. Sophie watched every tremble in his thighs, every ragged exhale.

Then she removed it and replaced it with the next size up – still small, but firmer, slightly wider. Paul whimpered as it entered, squirmed as it seated inside him.

Another ten minutes. Another plug.

By the time Sophie reached the fourth training plug, Paul’s eyes were watering. His knees ached from the hardwood. Sweat had soaked through the towel beneath him.

Finally, Sophie stood and strapped on the Marcus replica.

Paul stared at the dildo, his face ashen. “No. Sophie, that’s… that’s just too much. I can’t. Amanda wouldn’t expect… this isn’t what she means by ‘openness.’ This is just… painful.” He tried to pull away, a genuine panic in his eyes, shaking his head. “This isn’t about ‘growing,’ it’s something else entirely.”

Sophie’s expression hardened, a cold glint in her eye. She grabbed his chin, her grip surprisingly strong, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Painful? Is that what you think Amanda feels when she truly opens up to a profound experience? When she lets herself be completely… filled… with a new understanding, a new depth of connection? Or is it transcendence, Paul?”

She let go of his chin, her voice dropping to a precise, cutting tone. “Amanda told me how some experiences, some connections, are so intense, so… all-consuming, they make her feel like she’s discovering a whole new capacity within herself. She said it’s like finding a key to a room she never knew existed. A room, Paul, that requires a certain… magnitude to unlock.”

Paul flinched. Sophie’s words were layered, each one a veiled reference he could feel but not fully grasp, twisting his own encouragement of Amanda’s “emotional stretching” into something grotesque.

“She needs you to understand that capacity, Paul,” Sophie pressed, her voice a silken whisper. “She needs to know you’re not afraid of her depth, of her ability to take in so much. Every time you resist this, every time you say ‘I can’t handle that,’ you’re telling her that her own journey into profound openness is too much for you. That her needs, her very essence as she discovers it, is something you find intimidating, perhaps even… repulsive.”

She picked up the formidable dildo. “Do you want to be the man who tells Amanda her capacity for profound connection is too vast for your comfort? The man who makes her feel ashamed of the very “openness’ you supposedly cherish because you can’t even symbolically embrace a similar journey of being… radically opened? Or do you want to be the man who kneels, accepts, and proves he’ll do anything to understand the world she’s now inhabiting, to worship the radiant woman she’s becoming?”

She held the dildo out, its size a clear statement. “Amanda is embracing experiences that fill her completely, Paul. Experiences that stretch her understanding of what’s possible. If you can’t even accept this, this symbol of what it means to be truly open and vulnerable, what does that say about your commitment to her “expansive’ new life? How long before she seeks out partners who aren’t afraid of her intensity, who can truly meet her where she is?”

Tears welled in Paul’s eyes. The fear of Amanda drifting away, of her seeing him as a relic of a “smaller world” while she soared into new, intense experiences, was a more potent force than any physical discomfort. He looked at the dildo, then back at Sophie, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

“I don’t think I’m ready, Soph… but I can’t lose her. Show me,” he choked out. “Show me how to… make space for her.”

“You’re not ready,” she said, not unkindly. “But you’re going to try. Say “Red’ if you need to stop.”

She pressed the slick head of the dildo against his thoroughly stretched hole. The moment it touched him, Paul flinched.

“We’re starting slow,” she said. “But don’t mistake slow for easy.”

She began with gentle pressure. Just the tip. Paul’s fingers clenched. His forehead dropped to the mattress. The glossy crown met heavy resistance – his rim bending, barely yielding to the intrusion.

A millimeter slipped in, then stopped. Paul hissed, his thighs trembling, the muscles around his entrance fluttering in protest.

Another breath, another push, and another fraction of an inch eased in – agonizingly slow, the dildo’s girth forcing him open with every microscopic gain. His body tensed, clenching, the sensation a mix of searing pressure and deep humiliation.

Sophie held steady, unyielding. Each incremental breach was a fresh struggle.

It took over a minute just to coax the widest part of the head past his tightly clamped ring. Sophie maintained a steady, relentless pressure while dumping lube over Paul’s ass, the toy’s slick crown dimpling the rim before finally – after what felt like an eternity – opening it just wide enough to breach.

Paul gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, hands white-knuckled in the sheets. A sharp exhale escaped him as the head finally slipped inside with a sudden pop, and he trembled violently, the slow-burning sting of the stretch stealing his breath. The dildo lodged just past the sphincter, and the sudden fullness made Paul whimper aloud.

“Breathe,” Sophie murmured. “That’s it. Let it open you.”

The dildo barely breached him. He gasped, voice thin. “I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can.” Sophie’s hands were firm on his hips, guiding him.

She applied steady pressure, then paused. Waited. Let his body decide if it would yield. It didn’t.

Another small thrust. Paul whimpered.

“Relax your back. Keep breathing.”

The toy was so much thicker than anything Paul had taken. Every inch was a battle. His entire body shook, calves trembling, hands grasping the sheets.

She pulled back slightly, then pressed forward again. This time, the tip slipped in a hair further. Paul let out a strained whine.

Each slow thrust brought more tension. She worked rhythmically, nudging forward no more than a few millimeters at a time. The glossy shaft flared and pushed outward with every pulse, pulling him open so deliberately that each fractional gain felt like a brand-new invasion. Paul’s rim quivered with resistance, the thick dildo forcing his tight ring wider and wider.

A slow, searing bloom of pressure built with every pulse, until his body trembled, unable to process the mounting fullness. Every millimeter sank in like molten iron, spreading, grinding, searing until his breath came in short, shuddering bursts.

His knuckles whitened as his body fought the intrusion.

Two inches. Then three.

It took nearly ten minutes to get those three inches in. Paul’s voice cracked with every whimper.

Sophie leaned close, her voice edged with irritation. “That’s disappointing. I was hoping for more progress by now.” She glanced at the dildo buried only a few inches deep and sighed. “Maybe Marcus was too generous a benchmark. Let’s halve the dream. For now.”

“I’m trying,” Paul croaked.

“You always are,” she hissed. “But Amanda doesn’t need effort. She needs results.”

She gave one long, slow push. Another inch. Paul cried out – a raw, helpless sound. His body sagged.

“That’s the feeling. Get used to it.”

She withdrew just as slowly, the dildo gleaming with lube and Paul’s sweat. His hole twitched and gaped in the aftermath, glistening and raw. Paul collapsed forward onto the bed, sobbing quietly.

Sophie set the dildo down.

Then she picked up the monstrous toy. Longer. Thicker. Veins bulging like cords. The base flared wide, the head brutal.

Paul’s breath caught, his eyes going wide as the monstrous dildo loomed closer. “No… I can’t – ” he choked, voice tight with panic. The memory of the last invasion still throbbed inside him, and now this – this veined monster, slick and impossibly wide – loomed over his aching, twitching hole.

He shook his head, gasping, every nerve raw with anticipation and dread. His hands clutched the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto, to ground himself as his mind reeled. “Please… I’m not ready…”

“I didn’t say you were ready,” Sophie said, placing it beside him. “But this is the standard. This is what you’re training for.”

She crouched beside him, brushing hair from his damp face.

“Amanda hasn’t seen this version of you. But she will. On her knees. Watching. And when she sees how far you’ve come – how open you’ve made yourself for her – she’s going to feel so proud.”

Paul nodded weakly, tears streaking down his cheeks.

Sophie raised the camera. “Progress,” she whispered softly, tracing his sweat-slicked spine with her fingertips. “But perfection demands more from you.”

And she hit record again.

Paul was still on all fours, trembling, his breath hitching in little gasps as the monstrous dildo sat beside him, a grotesque promise of what was to come. His hole ached from the failed attempt at Marcus’s replica. Sophie had cleaned him up clinically, but the psychological residue lingered thick in the room.

She leaned against the bedpost and picked up her phone. “Let’s get clarity,” she said, smirking as she dialed.

Amanda answered on the second ring. Her voice was warm and breathy. “Hey, Soph. Everything okay?”

“We hit a bit of a wall,” Sophie said, glancing down at Paul. “Your husband is hesitating again. He’s… fragile.”

Amanda’s voice brightened with concern. “Oh no. Is he hurt?”

“Not physically,” Sophie said smoothly. “He’s just afraid to grow. To open. Like you did.”

Paul winced.

Sophie switched to speaker. Amanda’s voice filled the room.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

Paul struggled for words. “I… I’m trying. It’s hard.”

Amanda’s voice was tender. “I know it is. But you always told me growth means getting uncomfortable. And this is part of it.”

Sophie gave him a pointed look.

Amanda continued. “I want you to listen to Sophie. Completely. I trust her to help you. Just like you trusted her to help me.”

Paul’s eyes welled. “But she – “

“No excuses,” Amanda said. “This is your journey too. You said you wanted to be there for me, right? To grow together?”

Paul nodded, though she couldn’t see.

Amanda’s voice dropped into something more breathy. “Then don’t resist. Don’t hold back. Sophie knows what I need – and what you need. So let her do what she thinks is best. Okay?”

Paul whispered, “Okay.”

Amanda exhaled, relieved. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I expect you to listen. No fighting her. She’s doing this for both of us.”

Sophie smiled like a cat with cream. “You heard her. No more delays.”

Paul’s shoulders slumped. The line went quiet.

Then Sophie hung up and turned to the bed.

“Now,” she said, picking up the next training plug, “Let’s make her proud.”

Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The click of the lube cap was louder than it should’ve been.

And Sophie went to work.

Paul lay trembling, his muscles still quivering from the last brutal stretch. Sophie paced silently across the loft, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood. The Marcus dildo, glossy and glistening, sat still semi-buried on the tray beside her. Not nearly enough progress. Not nearly the surrender Amanda had asked for.

She crouched beside Paul, brushing damp hair from his face. “You’re trying, I know,” she murmured. “But you’re still fighting me. And I can’t let that keep happening. Amanda expects better.”

Paul’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with exhaustion and fear.

“We’re going to try something different.”

Before he could protest, she reached under the bed and pulled out a pair of padded leather cuffs. Paul blinked.

“Just for now,” she said. “Until you learn to stop pulling away.”

He didn’t resist. Not really. He flinched a little when the cuffs clicked into place around his wrists, but he let her tighten the straps. She guided him forward, gently but firmly, until his arms were tethered to the padded edge of the ottoman at the foot of the bed. His chest rested flush against the leather. She adjusted his knees slightly, spreading them, then secured his ankles with a spreader bar.

“Comfortable?” she asked.

He whimpered. Sophie smiled.

She walked back to the tray and picked up Amanda’s silk panties from the folded pile of clean laundry. She balled them gently and pressed them to Paul’s lips.

“Open.”

He hesitated.

“I’d rather gag you with your wife’s cum-soaked pair, but these will do for tonight.”

He opened. She pushed them in slowly, then tied a silk scarf tight behind his head to hold them in place.

“Better,” she said.

She selected the Marcus dildo again – but this time, she fastened it to a new harness: sleek, black leather lined with a thick gel cushion and a concealed, motion-sensitive vibrator. She cinched the straps high and tight around her hips, adjusting the angle until the dildo sat perfectly aligned with Paul’s vulnerable, still-spasming entrance.

She activated the vibrator with a soft click. The harness buzzed to life. She gave one slow thrust into the air, and the stimulation rippled along her clit – soft at first, then building. Her eyes closed briefly as she inhaled.

“Oh. That’s going to help.”

She stepped behind Paul and ran her hands along his thighs. He was trembling. She could see the twitch of his rim – still open, barely, from before. Still slick.

“No more second-guessing. No more stopping because you panic. Amanda’s made it clear – she wants you trained. This is how we do that.”

She pressed the tip of Marcus’s cock against him again. His body tensed.

“Just breathe. I’m in control now.”

She rolled her hips slowly, grinding the slick head in circles against his entrance. The vibrator purred in response. Her breath caught.

Yes.

She began to push.

Paul groaned, a soft high-pitched whimper muffled by the gag.

She pressed deeper. The toy’s thick head gouged him millimeter by millimeter, spreading him painfully slow. Sophie moaned softly as the vibration intensified.

“That’s better,” she purred, rolling her hips forward, driving just the first inch inside. “Every time you try to fight me, it makes me want more. Amanda would never fight me like this.”

Paul’s whole body shook, every muscle fiber tight with strain as the sheer violation of the insertion overwhelmed him. His fists clenched in the restraints, knuckles white, nails digging into his own palms. Each pulse from the vibrator sent a tremor down his spine, but it was the relentless pressure of the massive dildo that truly shattered him – his ring of muscle fluttering around the impassable girth, locked in a battle it had already lost.

His lungs burned as he tried to breathe through the gag, eyes squeezed shut against the tears that sprang unbidden. There was no space for thought – only pressure, pain, and the humiliating heat of being broken open for Sophie’s pleasure. He tried yelling “Red!” through the gag.

Sophie didn’t stop. She began a series of short, shallow thrusts – only half an inch in and out – slow, deliberate, timed with the vibrator’s rising hum. It buzzed stronger with every motion, flooding her core with heat. Her breaths came quicker, her fingers digging into Paul’s hips.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “That’s it. Don’t think. Just feel.”

She thrust again – deeper this time. Another inch. Then another. Paul let out a strangled cry, but the gag caught most of it.

Sophie was panting now, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. “You feel that?” she gasped. “That’s what it means to be filled. Real depth. Real stretch. Not fumbling softness. Not empty sweetness. But weight, pressure, purpose. That’s what you’re learning.”

Paul yelled wordlessly once more.

“Oh, that was you trying to say ‘red’ again? Next time, use your hands. Or better yet, don’t waste my time pretending you want mercy.”

Paul tried to squirm frantically, but the restraints held him tight.

Sophie smiled through her moans, sweat beginning to bead along her collarbone. “You’re helping me now. Every little twitch, every little tremble – it turns me on. You’re finally useful.”

She angled her hips and thrust again – one fluid, greedy stroke that drove nearly another inch of the fat dildo into Paul’s widened, protesting hole. The gyro-driven vibrator exploded to life inside her, pulsing hard against her clit with the sudden force of the movement.

She gasped aloud, her thighs trembling with the jolt of pleasure, her hips grinding involuntarily as the vibrations grew stronger with every tiny bounce. Paul screamed against the gag, his entire body spasming against the restraints, sheathing deep enough now to make his legs kick reflexively.

Sophie didn’t stop. The pleasure was rising too quickly now, too hot to ignore. She rolled her hips again, shallow and fast, and the toy rewarded her with a buzzing throb that made her moan through gritted teeth.

Paul’s scream faded into a choked sob. His hole was burning, clenching, trying desperately to push her out. But Sophie only ground deeper, chasing the tremors building in her gut, her climax drawing closer with every brutal inch.

Another thrust – deliberate, steady – pressed the Marcus dildo deeper into Paul’s trembling body. The sensation intensified immediately, the girth testing his limits all over again. He moaned low against the gag, muffled but desperate.

Sophie felt the buzz spike at her clit with the push. Her thighs tensed. The vibrator’s sensitivity to movement meant every slow drive forward set off a sharp pulse of pleasure – raw and building.

She pulled back just an inch, then drove forward again. And again.

Each thrust sent new spasms through Paul’s restrained body, his hole clenching reflexively around the thick shaft, struggling to adapt. Sophie could feel the resistance – the twitching tension, the narrow ring fighting her with every motion – and it only made her more eager.

Her orgasm was building fast now – raw, inevitable – as her hips continued to thrust, each motion triggering a stronger pulse from the motion-activated vibrator strapped tightly against her clit. Every deep grind into Paul’s stretched hole sent another wave of pleasure surging through her, amplified by the rising hum of the toy. Each thrust built not only her climax, but her sense of complete control, reshaping Paul’s body to Amanda’s true needs with every agonizing inch.

The intensity made her gasp with every movement. She let her body ride the momentum, chasing every pulse. Beneath her, Paul’s body convulsed with every push. The girth of the Marcus replica was nearly unbearable – his hole fought against it, twitching and tightening reflexively, only to be forced wider with each motion. His legs trembled, muscles locked in a futile attempt to resist the impossible girth spearing into him, while Sophie moaned louder, her thighs slick and shaking as pleasure barreled toward its peak.

Sophie seized Paul’s hips, pulled all the way out, and, with a guttural moan, slammed forward in a single brutal stroke. The flared, unyielding head of the Marcus dildo forced its way through his spasming rim with a wet, obscene pop, his sphincter stretched to its maximum as it struggled to accommodate the impossible girth. Paul let out a guttural, gag-stifled scream, his whole body locking up as the widest point of the head punched through and seated deep inside him.

The shaft followed in one relentless push – thick, veined, and merciless – until the entire length bottomed out with a final, shuddering thrust. Sophie gasped as the vibrator inside her exploded with sensation, the climax ripping through her like lightning, her moan echoing in time with Paul’s muffled sob.

His fingers clawed at the restraints, his muscles quivering as the unthinkable fullness claimed him. Sophie clutched his hips tight, breath ragged, riding the last pulsing wave of her orgasm while Paul whimpered beneath her, broken and stuffed full, his mind reeling from the raw, overwhelming sensation. His cheeks burned, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, heart hammering with a sick mix of shame and stunned arousal.

For one breathless moment, he could feel every ridge and pulse of the monstrous shaft seated inside him – and beyond the pain, beyond the humiliation, a terrible heat bloomed low in his gut. He didn’t know what scared him more: how shattered he felt… or the flicker of something else beneath it.

The vibration peaked in wild pulses, and Sophie cried out, her hips grinding down with frantic desperation, thrusting through her climax as if milking every last surge of pleasure from the Marcus replica buried deep inside Paul’s trembling, overstretched body. Her thighs quaked, slick with sweat, as she continued to thrust – slow, long motions that kept the vibration singing against her clit. Each lazy grind drew a fresh ripple of aftershock, prolonging her release.

Beneath her, Paul writhed and whimpered through the gag, his body quaking with every punishing motion. His ruined hole clenched helplessly around the thick, unyielding shaft, the relentless pressure refusing to grant him even the mercy of stillness. Sophie moaned softly with each thrust, savoring every lingering tremor, determined to ride this high as long as she could.

She leaned forward, panting, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades. Her chest pressed to his back, slick with sweat, rising and falling in shallow, shivering gasps. For a long moment, she lay there – still buried to the hilt – Marcus’s monstrous shaft lodged deep inside Paul’s torn, aching hole. He could feel every twitch of her orgasm winding down, every pulse of her spent muscles rippling against his hips.

Her breath felt hot against his spine. Droplets of sweat traced slowly from her clavicle to the small of his back. Neither of them moved. The silence was thick, broken only by the quiet hum of the slowly dying vibrator and the faint, whimpering tremors in Paul’s throat. He didn’t dare shift. The pressure inside him was too much – impossibly full, impossibly deep – and Sophie’s weight on top of him made escape a fantasy. He was claimed, every inch of him, pinned by heat, cum, and the overwhelming stretch of defeat.

His thoughts spiraled in dizzying loops. The weight of Sophie’s body, the impossible fullness lodged inside him, the wet warmth of sweat and slick skin – every sensation blurred into something he couldn’t categorize. Shame, yes. But also something else. Something quieter, darker. He felt undone. Rewired. And worse, Sophie knew it.

She adjusted her hips slightly, letting the dildo settle deeper. Paul gasped, his whole body tensing under her. A soft, satisfied sound rumbled from Sophie’s throat. “There he is,” she whispered, voice low and gloating. “Feeling it now, aren’t you? That deepening… that fullness… that’s not just in your body. That’s in your head now too.”

Then she pulled out – slowly, letting every inch drag free from his overworked hole.

“Much better,” she whispered. “But we’re still just getting started.” She gave one last lazy grind of her hips, dragging the thick shaft slightly inside him again just to hear his muffled cry. Then, leaning down, she breathed into his ear, her voice velvet and venom. “So tell me, little brother… how did you enjoy being fucked by Marcus for the first time?”

She trailed her fingertips slowly along the ridge of the dildo still glistening with lube and heat between his cheeks, smearing the mess higher across his trembling skin. “You really took your time adjusting,” she rasped, “but you got there in the end. Not bad for your first time taking something with that kind of presence.”

Paul whimpered through the gag, his body still twitching involuntarily. Sophie leaned closer, her breath warm at his ear. “You know, I should send Marcus a thank-you card; maybe you should send one too. Or better yet… show Amanda the footage and let her guess whose cock you’re moaning around.”

She paused to press a soft kiss against his damp shoulder. “Or maybe I’ll save that for your birthday. Let you blow out the candles after swallowing something bigger than your dignity.”

Paul’s face flushed, burning with shame, eyes still watery.

“Not so chatty now,” she added, her lips brushing his ear. “You felt every veiny inch, didn’t you? You think Amanda could handle that cock? You think she’d cry and shake the way you did? Or would she open wide around it, panting and begging, smiling through the tears because she needed every inch? You pictured that just now, didn’t you? Her thighs trembling, her pussy swallowing him deep – deeper than you ever could. That’s okay. I did too. Or do you think she’d spread her legs and beg for it like a good, obedient slut?”

She waited, savoring the silence.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to answer. We both know what you felt. And I think she’d love it.”

Paul lay motionless, curled against the mattress, sweat slick on his back, his muscles trembling with residual strain. Sophie had finally climbed off him, the Marcus replica still glistening with lube and flushed with heat from the friction of her long, punishing ride. He didn’t dare speak yet – his jaw clenched, his breathing shallow. The pain hadn’t fully subsided. But worse than the physical ache was the silence.

Sophie, perched on the edge of the bed, regarded him coolly. “That wasn’t nothing,” she finally said. “You managed more than I expected, even if you whimpered like a kicked dog half the time.”

Paul blinked slowly, the mattress imprint still red against his cheek.

“But you’ve still got a long way to go,” she continued, standing. “And I think it’s time we show Amanda how hard you’re working.”

Paul’s eyes snapped open. “No- please-“

Sophie raised a hand, silencing him. Her tone shifted, falsely sweet. “She deserves to know how dedicated you are, doesn’t she? How much you’ve learned. She’s so proud of you already. Imagine how thrilled she’ll be when she sees this.”

From a drawer, she retrieved her phone and a small tripod. “We’ll do a little message. You’ll look right at the camera. You’ll tell her what you’ve been learning and how you’ve grown.”

Paul tensed. “What if I say no?”

Sophie’s smile thinned.

She stepped aside, opening a velvet-lined case on the dresser. From it, she lifted something monstrous: the Bryce replica. Glossy black, wide as her wrist, veined with obscene detail, and long enough to curl like a weapon. It made the Marcus dildo look modest.

Paul’s breath caught audibly in his throat.

Sophie didn’t say a word. She simply laid it gently beside him on the mattress.

“You want me to say what again?” he whispered, voice cracking.

Sophie patted his hair. “Just the truth. That you’re proud of Amanda. That you’re committed to growth. That you’ve discovered a new way to serve her, to support her emotionally. Say those things, and you’ll make her smile.”

Paul swallowed. “And if I don’t?”

Sophie leaned in close, whispering. “Then I strap this on next, and I don’t stop until you’re drooling on the floor.”

He shuddered.

She adjusted the tripod, activated the phone camera, and gave him a countdown.

“Three… two…”

Sophie’s voice shifted again – bright, nurturing, like a proud mentor.

“Say hi to Amanda, sweetheart.”

Paul stared at the lens.

“Hi Amanda,” he said, voice hollow but steady. “It’s me. I’ve… I’ve been working with Sophie. A lot. She’s helping me understand how to be more open. How to support you the way you need.”

Sophie’s hand slipped around behind the phone, squeezing his shoulder in encouragement.

Paul flinched, but continued. “I know I’ve always struggled with certain things. But I want to make you proud. I want to keep learning. I want to match your openness with mine.”

Sophie smiled for the camera and leaned into frame.

“He’s doing so well,” she said warmly. “I think you’ll be amazed when you see just how far he’s come.”

She turned off the camera.

Her smile vanished.

“That’s take one,” she said. “We’ll keep going until I believe it.”

Paul looked toward the bed, toward the massive Bryce replica waiting beside him like a threat made flesh.

He nodded, eyes glazed. “Okay.”

Sophie let the silence hang for a moment after Paul finished recording the message. His voice still trembled, his face flushed and damp with sweat, humiliation radiating from him in waves.

She leaned in, pressing stop on the camera and then tapping her finger lightly against the screen. “That was very sweet,” she murmured. “But Amanda’s going to want more than words.”

Paul looked up sharply, the flush deepening on his cheeks. “More?”

Sophie picked up the tripod again and repositioned it near the bed, adjusting the angle to frame the pillows and Paul’s bare, glistening body. She handed him a bottle of lube and leaned over his shoulder.

Sophie smiled without warmth. “A demonstration. Something to show how far you’ve come.”

Paul’s lips parted. “What?”

“You’re going to show her what you’ve learned. I want her to see just how far you can take Marcus now. From beginning to end. Every inch. And you’re going to make it look like it’s for her.”

His mouth opened to protest, but she was already on her feet, reaching languidly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. She stared at him, pointing to the floor in front of the loveseat. “Same position as last time. And keep that pretty mouth of yours relaxed – you’ll be on camera again in a moment.”

Paul stared at the dildo, trembling.

“And if I can’t?”

Sophie’s voice dropped as she looked pointedly at Bryce’s dildo. “Then we try the next one.”

She slipped the harness on again with calm precision, guiding the glistening replica of Marcus’s cock into place. Then she positioned Paul on his hands and knees, forcing him to arch and spread himself wide.

Sophie tapped the dildo lightly against Paul’s inner thigh, smirking.

“And remember, baby brother – the more you ask for it, the easier it’ll go for you.”

She crouched down, smiling sweetly at the camera.

“Tell Amanda how excited you are to take this for her. Come on. Use your words.”

Paul swallowed hard, trembling, but Sophie waited patiently – the camera light blinking red, recording every second.

Slowly, brokenly, Paul whispered:

“I… I’m excited to… to be opened for Amanda. I want to show her… I can take it. I can handle it.”

A teacher’s grin spread across her face.

“Good boy. See? That’s the spirit.”

She stepped into frame, her tone cheerful. “Amanda, honey. This one’s for you.”

She reached down, spreading Paul open with her thumbs. “Look at how far he’s come.”

“Smile for the camera.”

She stepped over Paul, planting one heel on either side of his waist. From above, the dildo bobbed menacingly, casting a long shadow over his stomach.

“This is what your wife needs,” she said, loud enough for the soon-to-be-recorded audio. “A man who’s open. A man who serves. A man who makes space for her joy.”

Paul whimpered softly, but Sophie was already leaning down, gripping the base of the dildo, her other hand sliding lube liberally over its surface. She added more to her fingers and reached between his legs, spreading the slick coolness across his raw, still-tender opening.

“There,” she cooed, though her tone remained taunting. “Loosen up, little brother. Let’s show Amanda how ready you are.”

Then she positioned the head.

Paul inhaled sharply, his thighs twitching as the tip met his rim.

As Sophie lined up the dildo, she crooned:

“Now beg for it. Tell Amanda you want to feel it. Beg me to stretch you open so you can make her proud.”

Paul whimpered, thighs trembling, but when she nudged the tip against his slicked hole, he gasped and blurted:

“Please… please stretch me, Sophie. Please get me ready for Amanda. I… I want to take it for her.”

Sophie purred approvingly, grinding the head of the dildo in slow circles against him.

“That’s what I thought.”

And then she pressed forward, just a little.

The toy nudged into Paul with slow, deliberate pressure. Sophie moved her hips in tiny, pulsing thrusts – just enough to activate the vibrator. A low hum began to emanate from the harness, and she smiled down at him as it shivered up through her clit.

“Mmm,” she purred. “There it is. Feels good already.”

Paul’s jaw clenched. His hands fisted at his sides.

“Relax,” Sophie whispered, stroking his thigh. “Amanda needs to see you take it. All of it.”

She pushed in another inch.

Paul gasped, his body arching slightly, but the harness held firm. Sophie gripped his hips tightly, rolling hers slowly, letting the motion-controlled vibe climb in intensity with each pass.

“That’s it,” she moaned, her own breath quickening. “She’s going to be so proud of you.”

The dildo slid deeper – inch by trembling inch – until Paul cried out softly, his face contorting with effort. But Sophie didn’t slow. She kept grinding her hips in long, smooth strokes, the silicone shaft ripping into him further, deeper, more completely.

“Good boy,” she crooned, riding the rhythm. “Take it. Show her what you’ve learned.”

Her fingers found the base of the dildo and pulled him tighter to her, angling the thrusts to hit deeper. Her thighs quivered as the motion-vibe buzzed faster, stronger, pulsing with each grind.

Paul whimpered again, sweat beading across his forehead, but he didn’t tell her to stop. His eyes fluttered open and then squeezed shut again, overwhelmed by the relentless power, the heat of her body, the humiliating camera.

Sophie leaned forward, her breath hot against his ear.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” she crooned.

Then she started to thrust in earnest.

The dildo surged deeper inside him with each slow, deliberate stroke, the motion-vibe thrumming in rising pulses that made Sophie’s thighs tremble. She locked her hips into a steady rhythm, the base slapping against Paul’s skin, each motion pushing the limits of what his body could accept.

Paul whimpered, a high, strained sound barely louder than his ragged breathing. The thick silicone filled him completely now, grinding into tender nerves and dragging along every hypersensitive inch. He was shaking, legs twitching, eyes squeezed shut.

Sophie moaned aloud – less for the camera than for herself. The harness sent waves of pressure and stimulation into her with every thrust, the sensation blooming at her clit and spreading through her core. She reached between her own legs and stroked herself lazily as she continued to grind into Paul.

“Smile for the camera, baby brother,” she whispered, loud enough for the mic to catch. “Let Amanda see how well you serve.”

Sophie pulled the thick dildo sideways against his abused rim again, chuckling.

“Beg her for it, sweet boy. Tell Amanda how much you want her cock.”

Paul whimpered, face burning, but forced himself to rasp brokenly:

“Please, Amanda… I want to serve you. I need your cock… inside me.”

Sophie moaned approvingly, stroking herself more firmly now, the harness buzzing harder with each of Paul’s pathetic gasps.

She braced her hands on his thighs and thrust harder, deeper. Paul’s back arched and a strained whimper broke from his lips, but he didn’t pull away. The camera caught everything – his flushed face, the sweat clinging to his chest, the tremble in his legs as Sophie fucked him thoroughly.

“This,” Sophie gasped, her own breath now ragged, “is what growth looks like. You’re opening up. Finally becoming useful.”

Sophie leaned in, nipping lightly at Paul’s ear.

“Tell Amanda how good it feels to be opened. Tell her you want to take more.”

Paul sobbed softly, but he managed to gasp:

“It feels… good. I want… to take more for her. I want to be better…”

Sophie laughed quietly against his sweat-slicked back, grinding the dildo deeper in reward.

Paul shook his head weakly, tears clinging to his lashes. But he stayed where she put him.

The dildo bottomed out again, making him cry out – a strangled, broken sound – and Sophie moaned in response, grinding harder as she chased her own pleasure. She was close now, the vibe working in tandem with her pace, the power of her dominance amplifying the sensation.

She leaned low over Paul, her chest brushing his as her hips kept working. “This is the cock your wife needs you to worship. Do you understand now?”

Paul gasped. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Yes.”

Sophie came with a guttural cry, her thighs locking around his hips as she thrust deep and held it there. Her whole body trembled, clit pulsing against the vibrator, the fullness of her orgasm washing over her like a slow, grinding wave.

She stayed there, shuddering through aftershocks, her body pinning his, the Marcus replica still buried deep in his ass.

Only when her breath began to slow did she speak again, quiet and cruel:

“So tell me, little brother… did you ever imagine you’d take Marcus this deep? Bet Amanda never thought you’d get there before she did.”

Sophie raised her head, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face, and turned toward the camera with a smirk. “Amanda, darling,” she said, her voice syrup-smooth and mocking, “as you can see, your sweet husband is learning. I told you he could be taught. Look at that stretch. Look at how much he can take.”

She rocked her hips again, slowly, just enough to make Paul whimper beneath her. “It’s your cock now, too. Isn’t that what you said you wanted? Someone open? Someone willing?” She looked down at Paul. “You’re doing so well. I think we’ll order your special hardware next.”

Paul’s breath hitched, his fingers curling weakly into the rug beneath him, shame and arousal twisting violently inside his chest.

Sophie leaned closer to the lens, licking her lips. “He’s almost ready for your next challenge.”

She didn’t say which one. But the unspoken threat hung heavy in the air as the camera continued to roll.