Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Maybe that’s what I’ll do.” He sped his pace. “Would you like me to? To come in your filthy mouth and leave you unsatisfied?”
I twisted and flailed, trying to drag in gulps of air between the repeated invasions of his cock. I pleaded with him with each exhale, unable to do more than make some pathetic, whimpering sounds.
“I’m close, Sophie,” he warned. “Make me believe that you want my cock in you.”
I screamed through my nose, my chest hitching with sobs.
“Do you want me to fuck your ass?”
I responded with another scream, mindless in my fear that he would do exactly as he promised.
“Do you want me to fuck your cunt?”
Another scream. I prayed he wasn’t as close as he sounded. I writhed and cried, my eyes squeezed shut against the flood of tears that rolled from them.
“I’m going to come, Sophie,” he groaned, and a wail of despair seized my entire body.
He pulled out, laughing at his joke. “Of course I wasn’t going to waste it in your mouth, Sophie. I’m going come in your ass tonight. Sit up.”
It was difficult to do so with the plug in me, so I had to be cautious. Sir slipped a gentle finger beneath the hooks of the gag on one side and carefully eased them out. Once it was free, he asked, sounding more like my concerned husband than my cruel Dom, “How’s your jaw?”
“Fine, Sir.” Though, my lips felt oddly stretched-out on my face. The sensation would pass.
“What do we say?”
“Thank you for fucking my throat, Sir.” That part certainly hurt, now, and my voice was hoarse for it. “And thank you for not coming in my mouth.”
“Don’t thank me for that. It wasn’t for you.”
I nodded and cast my gaze down.
He went to the cabinet again and came back with a toy I liked much better. “Lay back and spread.”
He reached for my foot and ran his fingers lovingly along the patent leather of my light nude pump. He slipped the thin elastic straps of the wearable vibrator over my calf, and repeated the action on the other side.
“I’m going to fuck you, Sophie,” he told me as he slid the straps up. “And I’m going to let you come—”
Oh, god, yes.
“—but we’re not finished until I say we’re finished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I held my breath as he pushed the vibe into place. It wasn’t the most intense one we owned, but it was delicious, a little bullet about as long as the tip of my thumb that vibrated soft legs, like a caterpillar’s, on all sides of my clit. Sir held the wireless remote.
The straps were around my waist and thighs, the vibrator fitted snuggly to my aching clit, when he turned on the power. The lowest setting gently throbbed against me.
“Stand up.”
I rose, and he stood before me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the vibrator’s remote at his side. “Unbutton my shirt.”
It was hard to concentrate with my mind and body screaming for orgasm while the vibe buzzed away at me, but I forced myself to concentrate. I reached for the first fastened button with shaking hands, pushing it through the hole with my thumb.
One down, what seemed like a thousand to go.
I worked the next one, my fingers even less steady. The tightening shocks in my groin warned that I would come at any second. I tried to calm myself. I didn’t want to come until he was inside me, but my self-control could only do so much, especially when I wasn’t entirely in control of myself, anyway. I moved on to the third button, a loud moan taking me by surprise.
“Are you going to come?” he asked, and all I could do was moan again.
He cut the power to the vibe. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
It was what I had wanted, though, whether he knew that or not. I suspected he did; though he claimed to be out of practice, he was doing a very good job hitting every item on my fantasy list tonight.
I managed to get five buttons undone before he turned the vibe on, again, and I lost all reason. I ripped the remaining two straight down.
He slapped me hard across the face, and I practically came, right then.
“Fuck me,” I pleaded, the vibrations against my clit driving me out of my mind. My tolerance to orgasm denial had dwindled to zero, apparently. I was willing to talk out of turn, to give a command to my Sir.
“Fuck you?” He cut the power to the vibe, and I groaned in protest and stamped my foot. “I do not like bratty subs. Bend over the recamier. Now!”
I had no one to blame—or thank—but myself. I’d skirted a line, though; there was one thing that Neil was very serious about in our play, and that was respect. If I didn’t safe word, if we were still playing the game, and I mouthed off to him, there were always consequences.