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Professor Segul laps at me at a frenzied pace that makes my heart lurch. The part of me that thinks he’s gone feral trembles, the other part of me that wants more thrusts my hips.
“F-fingers,” I cry out. “Please.”
Professor Segul gives me a slap on the inner thighs that only adds to my pleasure. “Who’s the top?”
“You are,” I blurt.
“Who?” he growls into my pussy.
“Professor Segul,” I say much louder.
“And who does this pussy belong to?”
“You,” I wail.
He continues, and we fill the dungeons with two sets of heavy breaths. This is a bigger head rush than last night’s schnapps, more exhilarating than the time his generous allowance hit my bank account.
I’m throbbing everywhere, tingling in places I didn’t think were sensitive, and trembling where I need him most.
I want to squeeze my thighs together and trap his head. I want to tell him to slow down because I’ll climax too quickly. But then I remember that this man is capable of giving me multiple orgasms.
“Oh, fuck, Professor, I’m going to—”
The climax hits like a cyclone, lifting my soul out of its resting place. My consciousness spins around the dungeon, out of the villa, and floats through a sky with diamonds.
I’ve never done anything so sexually intense to create an out-of-body experience, never thought such a thing was possible.
At least not until now.
A high-pitched note hovers on the edges of my awareness, a continuous sound of terror or bliss. It takes a few heartbeats, a hoarse throat, and empty lungs to realize the sound is coming from me.
My consciousness snaps back to the present as I suck in a noisy breath, and it’s only then that I notice my entire body convulsing with a powerful climax.
Professor Segul runs his tongue from my clit to my opening, with long, languid, leisurely strokes, stretching out the sensations until they fade but don’t disappear.
“Shit,” I say through choking breaths. “What are you trying to do? Kill me?”
He barks a laugh, and pinches my clit with a gentle pressure that pushes me over another edge. The second orgasm is more bearable—less outer-body and more of a physical implosion. My inner muscles pulse and spasm to an imaginary beat that pumps ecstasy down to my trembling extremities.
I jerk within my restraints as the professor releases the pressure of his fingers. It takes several heartbeats before my lips can form words.
“Why?” I say through frantic breaths. “Why did you laugh?”
“Did you know they call orgasms la petite mort?” he asks.
“That’s little death in French,” I say with a groan. “If that’s the case, I’ve gone to heaven.”
After cranking the bondage wheel back into place, he releases my legs and then my arms, which fall limp at my sides. Finally, he unbuckles the harness, and I’m so boneless from the orgasm that I fall into his arms.
“How are we doing?” he asks, sounding cheerful for a man who just tried to kill me with an overload of pleasure.
“No more,” I rasp.
“Hmm…” he says. “That doesn’t sound like amber or red.”
I melt against him with a weak chuckle. “As if you could squeeze one more orgasm out of me.”
He gives me a gentle pat on the ass. “We have all evening.”
