Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Lowering her hips, she parted her folds with the latex-protected length of him, rocking, fingers reaching to pinch his nipples through the rubber buffer. The bulges of her chest overflowed the satin, the color of the bra accentuating the red pout painted over her hidden expression.
She was a demon in the form of the most beautiful girl on earth. If he peered into her liquid brown eyes, he might’ve found the cruelest corners of the world there. But when she ground against him, the lustrous sheen of her hair swishing around her, her fingers curling against his abs, she seemed more human, less wooden. She seemed to desire him.
The thought made him needy in a way he didn’t comprehend. He wanted her to slide her heat over him faster, longer, and hear her hypnotic voice cry out in bliss.
No. He blinked, tried to clear his head. He wanted her to stop.
Another bout of quakes tumbled through him, coaxing the climax that was teetering on a razor’s edge. What was her true intention? Was any of this real? Could she produce moisture between her legs if she didn’t want him? If he could recognize her authenticity, he might be able to explain the meaning of her actions. “Mistress. Remove the mask.”
She threw her head back, the sinews in her slender neck straining against the skin. She moaned, and the sound transformed into a harmony of Ahh-Ahhhh-Ah. Her voice was an offering from God and a temptation from hell, a tone so potent it could corrupt a man, or save him.
Blood surged to his penis, raising his testicles, and his inhibitions fled. His heart rate skyrocketed, his lungs labored, and his thighs and butt tightened. She continued to grind on him, hitting the right spot, the right speed. He was doomed.
“Requirement number eight.” Hips flexing, she rubbed against him with the mastery to finish him. “Slave will not orgasm without permission.”
A series of contractions gripped his cock. He’d reached the point where he couldn’t stop, didn’t care about anything but the rush of pleasure barreling down on him. It was happening, and oh sweet Jesus, his body shook with the violence of a spasmodic freefall. Sensations flooded him from the waist down, pulsing against the friction of her heat, and he forgot where he was.
Her weight vanished. Latex covered his face, and the vacuum roared to life.
Chapter 14
Four more near-suffocations later, and Josh knew Liv wouldn’t kill him with vacuum-shrunk latex. But every time she sealed it over his face and powered on the motor, he feared it would be the time she miscalculated.
He labored to catch his breath. How did she measure how long he could go without air? What if she waited a heartbeat too long? And what was the purpose of this cruelty? He was supposed to hold off his body’s reactions? Wait for permission to come? If she jerked him off enough, maybe he’d run out of juice.
Fatigued lolled his muscles. Sweat drenched his skin, and the stickiness of five ejaculations dribbled into the creases of his balls, itching the crack of his backside. No way did he have the mental or physical capacity to come again.
He’d thought the same thing three orgasms ago. “Mistress, no more.”
She leaned over him, her hand working his sore, yet frustratingly swelling penis. “Your cock says otherwise.”
A growl erupted in his stomach. He licked parched lips, unsure if she registered his hunger. If she had any reaction at all, it was locked behind the damned mask. Maybe some mysteries, like if her goal was to starve him or masturbate him to death, were better left in the dark.
She stroked and stroked and stroked. He was past cringing from the effect of her touch. The familiar surge of climax tightened his gut. Unable to stop it, his release surged through his body and burst beneath the latex.
The momentary bliss lessened each time with the ache of overuse, but it was still there, owning him. Though, if he was actually ejaculating semen, he couldn’t sense it amidst the existing puddle.
When the haze of orgasm faded, he filled his lungs with air and braced for his claustrophobic punishment.
Her legs bent in a squat above him, the crotch of her panties damp and taunting. “You smell like sweaty balls and spooge, virgin boy.” She rose and lifted a bare foot backward to her hip, balancing without falter, stretching her muscles. She lowered her foot and repeated with the other leg. “I’m going to release you to use the toilet, scrub the piss from it, and take a shower.”
His body melted into the floor, and his lungs collapsed in relief.
“Then you’ll wash me.”
Maybe she wanted to shock him, but putting his hands on her might be the most pleasant thing he would experience in this room. No matter how much she disgusted him, her body aroused him. It was infuriating. “Yes, Mistress.”