Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Mmm, that’s what it feels like,” Sarta at the end of the bed tells me. Her hand speeds up as Luthian’s hips do, and soon the room is filled with the slap of skin against skin, the obscene, thick, wet sound of her fingers plunging and twisting, and her breathless voice trying to describe it all.
“He’s so big,” she moans. “So hard.”
My cunt aches to be filled deeper, to take Luthian inside of me. I can’t tear my gaze away from the sheer bliss on their faces. Every one of her moans is echoed by her double at my side, who whispers torturous things like, “I’m so close. He’s going to make me come. Are you close, Cenere?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes shining with tears. “Yes, I’m so close. Please, let me come!”
The three of them laugh and I sob in despair.
“He’s close, too.” Sarta’s teeth close over my earlobe, sending a renewed shudder of sensation through me as her hand pummels my cunt. She writhes, stiffens, cries out in unison with Sarta at the end of the bed, while I throb, still suspended precariously close to the edge but unable to fall over.
“He’s coming,” she gasps, still in the throes of ecstasy. “I can feel it bursting inside of me.”
When he withdraws, he thrusts his cock through his fist a few more times, releasing slashes of cum across her back with each stroke. Her fingers withdraw, too, and I whine in disappointment.
Luthian staggers to a chair and falls heavily into it, and Sarta enfolds her double into an embrace, becoming one body again.
“Come sit in my lap,” Luthian tells me, still stroking himself after the shimmering white fluid has subsided. I think of the length of him, coated in it, how it would slide so easily into me.
But when I reach him, he spins me to sit with my back against his chest, his cock trapped between us, resting against the cleft of my ass. He grinds on me and traps one of my ankles then the other against the legs of the chair with his booted feet.
“Don’t struggle,” he warns, capturing my arms and twisting them behind my back. “Be a good girl and I promise you; you will be rewarded.”
All I can think of is how much I want to come. How I’ve teetered on the edge, ready to spill over, for what feels like hours. Surely, he’s saying that he’ll let me, finally, if I obey him. Fighting would be futile, anyway; I’ve already agreed to let him utterly control me.
When Sarta approaches with her wand, my body writhes against my will. I want to sit still. I want to do everything he’s asking me. But the wand grows smaller, smaller, until it’s an actual needle, and she kneels between my legs.
“A little pain, that’s all,” Luthian croons in my ear.
I gasp. “What?”
Sarta holds up a delicate golden ring with a dangling pearl. “It’s the fashion at court. And it will look very pretty on you.”
“Wait…” My throat goes utterly dry with fear and I try to shift away from her.
“Hold still,” Luthian growls. “Or I might never let you come.”
I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut as Sarta’s fingers probe my throbbing clit. The tip of what must be her pinkie finger glides beneath the hood, stretches it, and I bite my lip. My body trembles in fear.
When the needle pricks that most intimate flesh, I imagine a searing poker thrusting through Cadwyn Thrace’s neck. Luthian’s tongue curls around my ear. “Come.”
I scream and curl up, not only from the agonizing punch of the needle sliding through, but the long-denied pleasure that entwines itself with that pain, exploding through me. I feel Luthian’s cock, hot and sticky against my ass, and I want to lift myself up and impale myself on him, as I imagine impaling Thrace, as I see the needle violating my flesh in my mind’s eye.
“Come,” Luthian whispers again, and my body obeys him. My legs kick and wetness bursts from my core, bathing my thighs. “Come.”
I lose all sense of where I am as I climax seemingly endlessly after hours of torturous denial. I forget Sarta between my legs, Luthian at my back. The pleasure is too much, the stinging of my punctured flesh is too much, and I’m lost, sobbing, my body snapping like a whip in the bonds of Luthian’s hold on me.
“Come,” he snarls, his teeth sinking into the skin below my ear.
“No!” I cry out. “Not again, please!” And it’s all I can manage before I’m brutally shoved over the edge again, my sensitive flesh and worn out muscles screaming for mercy.
He grips my jaw painfully, pushing my cheeks into my teeth in his punishing grasp. “You are never to speak that word to me again. Do you understand?”