Page 111 of Suite 7

“There.” Low and certain. “Almost there.”

When the plug seats fully, he holds completely still, one hand braced warm against my hip, and waits while I breathe through it — until the strangeness settles into something present. Intimate. Like being held from the inside.

“Color?”

“Green.” Barely a word.

He presses lightly against the base and the sound that comes out of me isn’t voluntary.

Then the vibrator arrives without warning, firm and certain, and the sound I make next echoes off the walls.

“Remember, no coming without permission.”

The first edge is fast. The pressure builds, my breathing changes, my thighs tighten — and then it’s gone, pulled back before I tip over, and I’m left with nothing but the awful fullness of the plug and the specific agony of almost.

The second time he’s slower. He builds it in increments — pressure, then more pressure, then the angle shifting just slightly until my thighs are shaking and my fingers are white against the bench and I can hear myself making sounds I can’t control. He takes me right to the edge, holds me there for three horrible seconds, and pulls back.

“Please—” The word comes out before I’ve decided to say it.

“Please what?”

“Please, Sir, please⁠—”

“Please what, Vera. Use your words.”

“Please tell me to come, please, I can’t⁠—“

“You can.” His hand settles on my lower back, warm and steady, while the vibrator starts again.

At some point my hair has stuck to my cheek and I can’t move it. I don’t care. I have stopped being a person who cares about things like that.

There’s only this. Only him. Only the thing he’s building in me that I can’t control.

“This—” His voice drops low, unhurried, the vibrator easing back just enough to keep me hovering. “This is what happens when you push your Dom’s buttons all through dessert.”

“Sir, please⁠—”

The vibrator shifts angle and I cry out.

“I have to tell you, Vera.” A pause, the pressure building again, precise and merciless. “I could do this all night.”

“Please—” My voice breaks on it. “Please, Sir, please, I need⁠—”

“I know what you need, Vera.”

“Please let me come, please.”

A low groan escapes him, pulled from somewhere deep. “You’re perfect like this.” The vibrator presses deeper and I cry out. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Kane — Sir — please⁠—”

He holds it there. Holds me there. Right at the edge, right at the exact place where I’ve lost every version of myself except this one.

“Please.” Barely a sound. Everything I have left. “Please.”

“Come.” The command drops into the silence. “Right now. Come for me.”

I detonate.