Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 55445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
"Now, you will not come until I say you can. Be good for me. You're doing so well, baby girl," Damien says practically purring his praise and that's enough to send a rush of arousal to shake me to my core. I'm trembling, squeezing his fingers claiming my pussy, pressing into me so good. I'm slick, dripping, and his fingers meet no friction. He's fucking into my pussy so fast that I couldn't keep up with the sensation or my breathing if I wanted to. Every inhale turns into another flutter and I feel an orgasm so close and pushing back those waves is literally painful. I need to come. It is all I can think about. I'm begging, which is only mumbling against the gag, but I hear him sternly say, "No."
I have to listen. I will. It matters to me more than anything in the world, I realize. I'm consumed with this need. A black spiral within me winds further and further down, and I keep sliding. Push back the waves of pleasure and force the orgasm to recede, stay on the precipice but not completely. Not until Sir says I can come. I stop begging and start breathing and I lock eyes with him.
There's a flare in those dark eyes that makes my nipples get painfully hard just looking at him. If I could have, I would have reached out and cupped his face. He's brutally fucking his fingers into me and he's touched my nude body, but right now feels like the most intimate thing that I've ever discovered. I'm thankful for this moment. I don't quite understand it, but the looks we share now are something I'll hold onto, I'll treasure. A voice in my mind whispers that no matter what, I have this. It is like a shooting star, gone as I appreciate it, and he gives me a look of pure menace. "Do not come," his voice is ragged, his breathing altered. I'm affecting him, and in return I'm not to come. This truly is punishment.
He jerks his fingers from my pussy. Sir no longer brushes my clit over with his thumb. Instead, his mouth is hovering over my pussy. "You are not to come," Damien commands me. I realize what he's going to do. I shouldn't have a well of shame or embarrassment to pull from, but I do. His mouth sinks down on my pussy, tongue lapping over my clit and through my folds, and I'm alive with sensation. I'm crying harder, rolling my hips into his mouth with greed, and the waves are getting harder and harder to push back. He shakes his face around me, even nips his teeth at the swollen lips of my pussy so desperate for him to let me finish what he's started. But still, he keeps going. His hands reach up and undo my gag and I'm terrified. I can't stop with my long moans. His fingers wipe away my tears while he meets my rolling hips and presses my pussy against his mouth. He's kissing my pussy roughly, then fucking it with his tongue, and I'm so overwhelmed and trying not to talk so I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Open your eyes," Sir growls against my pussy.
The vibrations make me whimper, but I obey. I feel like any second now, I will come, and then I will be punished. I'm not allowed to come. Only days ago I barely knew anything about orgasm, and now he's about to tear one from my body and punish me because it isn't allowed. My desperate need to please him is all that I cling to. In one final push back of my orgasm's tide, that's when he looks me in the eyes, visible over the top of my pussy. "Ask permission to come, and I might let you," and he sinks his mouth back on my clit and slides several of his fingers, I can't even tell how many, into my aching, needy pussy.
"Please, please, Sir, let me come for you," I beg, sharply cringing at my words but so desperate for the orgasm no matter how embarrassed I am to be asking for it.
"No," Sir says. He pulls his fingers out of my pussy and brings his mouth up from my clit, and he sucks every drop of my arousal from his fingers.
Then, while I tremble with need, he gets closer to me, his face close enough to mine that our noses are pressed together.
"Please, please let me come for you," I whimper.
He presses two of his fingers into my mouth and I taste my arousal, tangy yet sweet, so taboo, on his fingers. I suck like they are the air I breathe.
"No," he says.
I'm so desperate to come. I don't know what to do. He is torturing me. Why won't he let me come?