Amanda hesitated, her hand hovering over the spinner. She desperately wanted this to be over, but she knew she had no choice. With a shaky breath, she flicked the pointer, watching anxiously as it whirled around the board.

The spinner slowed, passing over "Spanking" and "Glory Hole" before finally coming to rest on "Hand Job." Amanda's stomach lurched, a mix of relief that it wasn't something worse and disgust at what she now had to do.

Mr. Reynolds smiled broadly. "A nice, simple task to end our pleasant afternoon together." He leaned back on the couch, spreading his legs. Amanda eased herself off the couch, her bottom still very sore, and moved to kneel between his thighs. Her hands fumbled as she undid his belt, unfastened his button and lowered the zipper of his slacks. He lifted his hips, allowing Amanda to tug his pants and underwear down. His erect penis sprang free, mere inches from her face. Amanda gasped at the size of it, mesmerized by its girth and length. This was the first adult penis she had ever seen in person, and despite the situation, the sight of it made her pussy tingle.

“Why don’t you head over to the cabinet and grab a bottle of lube. I think that will make this much more enjoyable for both of us,” Mr. Reynolds directed.

Amanda hesitated, her eyes fixated on his erection. “O… Okay,” she stammered as she stood and made her way over to the cabinet, Mr. Reynolds watching her beet red behind jiggle a bit as she walked. She opened the cabinet door, scanning the shelves until she spotted a bottle of clear liquid labeled "Astroglide." Based on the name, she assumed that was what he wanted and returned to kneel between Mr. Reynolds' legs, showing him the bottle.

"That’s it," he murmured as she settled back into position. "Now, pour some of that on my cock and get to work."

With trembling fingers, Amanda snapped open the lid and squeezed a generous amount onto the bulbous head of his dick, the slick liquid flowing down his shaft. Taking a deep breath, she tentatively wrapped her small hand around his member. He let out a low groan of pleasure at her touch. She began to move her hand, sliding it along the length of his penis. The lube made her movements smooth, and she could feel every ridge and vein under her fingers. Despite her disgust at the situation, she couldn't help but be fascinated by the feel of him, how he twitched and grew even harder in her grasp.

"That's it, nice and slow," he encouraged. "Vary your grip a bit. Twist your wrist as you go up and down."

Following his instructions, Amanda's hand glided along the length of his erection, feeling it pulse and throb under her touch. Though she knew she should be incensed by being coerced into this act, she couldn't help but be intrigued by the feel of his cock in her hand. A flicker of guilt crossed her mind for enjoying herself, but she pushed it away, lost in the fascination of giving her first hand job.

Mr. Reynolds' breathing grew heavier as Amanda continued. "Use both hands now, fondle my balls," he directed.

Amanda cupped his testicles with one hand while continuing to stroke with the other. She could feel them tightening as she gently massaged them.

"Faster now," Mr. Reynolds grunted. "I'm getting close."

Amanda increased her pace, her small hand flying up and down his shaft, wondering to herself, “Getting close to what?” Mr. Reynolds' hips began to thrust slightly, meeting her strokes. Suddenly, he let out a loud groan. Amanda felt his cock twitch and pulse in her grip before hot spurts of semen erupted from the tip, landing on her hands and forearms.

"Oh god, yes," Mr. Reynolds moaned as he came. With a satisfied smile, he looked down at Amanda, who was staring in awe at her cum-covered hands. "That was quite enjoyable, my dear," he praised, his voice low and husky. Despite herself, Amanda couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at what she had just done. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of pleasure and shyness, making her even more alluring to Mr. Reynolds.

"Why don't you go wash up and then come back and clean my cock," Mr. Reynolds instructed, gesturing towards a door that presumably led to a bathroom.

Amanda nodded silently and stood up, her legs still a bit shaky. She made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As she washed the sticky semen off her hands and arms, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her hair slightly mussed, and her eyes wide with a mix of shock and lingering arousal.

After drying off, she returned to the living room carrying a warm, damp washcloth. Mr. Reynolds was still sprawled on the couch, his softening penis resting against his thigh.

"Clean me up, then you can get dressed and go home," he said.

Amanda knelt between his legs once more and gently wiped his cock and balls clean. As she finished, Mr. Reynolds caught her wrist.

"You did very well today, Amanda," he said softly. "I look forward to our next session. I’m thinking the day after tomorrow at 2:00."

Amanda's stomach churned at the thought, but she knew she had no choice. She nodded meekly.

"Good girl," Mr. Reynolds smiled. "You can get dressed now and head on home."

As Amanda pulled on her clothes, wincing as the fabric of her skirt rubbed against her still-tender bottom, Mr. Reynolds spoke again, "Next time you come over, I want you to wear something sexy that you know I will enjoy.”

Amanda forced her lips into a weak smile as she glared at him before turning and making her way out the front door. As she approached her bicycle, she shuddered at the thought of sitting on the hard plastic with her sore bottom. With a sigh, she gripped the handlebars and began to push her bike along, her mind consumed by the shame and humiliation of what had just transpired.

She walked along in a daze, tears streaming down her cheeks as she replayed the events in her mind. Her body felt numb, despair flooded over her knowing that in just two days, she would have to return and face the Wheel of Desire once more. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she trudged towards home, an overwhelming sense of dread looming over her like a dark cloud.

As she approached her house, a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. She knew she had to sneak inside without her parents seeing her and somehow make it through the evening without them finding out where she had been and that she had been paddled. Her father wasn't home from work yet so it would only be her mother that she would have to avoid to make it to her room. She leaned her bike against the side of the house and quietly entered through the back door.

Amanda tiptoed through the kitchen, straining her ears for any sign of her mother. The house seemed quiet. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard her mother's voice call out from the living room, “Amanda? Is that you?"

Amanda froze, her heart racing. "Y-yeah, Mom," she called back, trying to keep her voice steady.

"How was your day, sweetie? Did you have fun with your friends?" her mother questioned.

"It was fine, uh, we just hung out at the park and stuff," Amanda replied, her voice tight. "I think I am going to take a shower and maybe lie down for a bit."

"Alright, honey. I'll call you when dinner's ready," her mother called back.

Relief flooded through Amanda as she went up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she locked the door and stripped out of the clothes that he had made her wear. She collapsed naked onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow to muffle her sobs. She replayed the afternoon's events in her mind. The humiliation of being made to strip naked in front of Mr. Reynolds, the pain and unexpected pleasure from the spanking, the confusing mix of disgust and fascination as she gave her first hand job - it was all too much to process. Her bottom still throbbed, a constant reminder of what had transpired.

She knew she should feel only revulsion, but a small part of her couldn't deny the tingling excitement she had felt. This realization only added to her shame and self-loathing. How could she have responded that way to such a degrading experience?

As she lay there, her mind drifted to Mr. Reynolds' parting words - she was expected back in two days, wearing something sexy. What did that even mean? She had no idea what an older man like him would find sexy. The thought of having to choose an outfit to please him made her sick to her stomach.

Eventually, Amanda dragged herself to the shower, letting the water cascade over her body. She cleaned herself vigorously, as if she could wash away the memory of Mr. Reynolds' touch. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase the lingering sensations - the sting of the paddle and the resulting tingling between her legs with each strike, the feel of his hard slick cock as she slid her hand up and down, and the wonderful warmth and stickiness of his cum on her hands.

As she ruminated on these thoughts, her hand instinctively gravitated between her legs. With a mix of timidness and eagerness, she began to masturbate. Her fingers delicately traced small circles around her clitoris, each touch sending waves of ecstasy through her body. She closed her eyes, feeling the soothing water from the shower raining down on her skin as she continued to explore herself. Images flashed through her mind - Mr. Reynolds' intense gaze as she stripped naked, the feel of his hand caressing her naked bottom before the first stinging slap of the paddle, the weight and heat of his cock in her hand. Her fingers moved faster, her breathing growing ragged. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as waves of pleasure built within her. With a shuddering gasp, she came, her body quivering as the orgasm washed over her.

As the afterglow faded, guilt and disgust crashed down on Amanda. How could she have gotten off to thoughts of what Mr. Reynolds had done to her? She felt dirty and ashamed. Turning the water to cold, she stood under the icy spray, as if she could freeze away her conflicted emotions.

Finally, she stepped out of the shower and dried off, wincing as the towel rubbed against her sore bottom. Turning to the mirror, she examined herself, tracing the fading pink marks on her butt with a finger. The memory of Mr. Reynolds' words rang in her mind: "You have such a wonderful ass." A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she recalled his compliment before admonishing herself for even entertaining such a thought. She shook her head in frustration thinking, what is wrong with me?

After dressing in loose, comfortable clothes (without underwear), Amanda gently laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her mind raced, trying to figure a way out of this nightmare. But she knew she was trapped - if she refused to go back, Mr. Reynolds would expose her trespassing and her father would lose his job. The thought of her family's life being ruined because of her foolishness brought fresh tears to her eyes.

At dinner, Amanda picked at her food, unable to meet her parents' concerned gazes. She mumbled excuses about not feeling well and escaped back to her room as soon as she could. That night, she tossed and turned, her sleep plagued by vivid images of Mr. Reynolds and the Wheel of Desire.