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My movements become more enthusiastic at his praise, and I suck and lick as if it were his cock.
Too soon, Creighton pulls out whatever he put in my mouth and runs it down my clit, between my folds. He teases, rubbing and sliding it through my wetness until I’m writhing.
Then he thrusts it inside me. I jerk as the object—a sex toy, I assume—fills me. And then a slow humming starts in my core and against my clit.
A shiver goes through me at the tame stimulation, almost like a tender touch, which Creighton is too cold to ever offer.
“We’ll play a game.” He glides the tip of the object he first touched me with over the hard tips of my nipples. “If you don’t come by the end of your five punishment strokes, I’ll let you go. If you do come, however…you’re mine to devour.”
I gulp, but it turns to a full-on shriek when his first slap lands on my tender breasts.
Fire spreads across my skin and eats me up from the inside out. The place where he struck me burns and tingles in a chaotic mayhem.
It’s a crop, I think. He’s punishing me with a crop.
Holy shit. I didn’t sign up for this.
Or did I?
Creighton has always been transparent about who he is and what his tendencies are. He’s never once said he’d offer me normal or vanilla.
Hell, he even bluntly announced that he doesn’t date, doesn’t believe in the whole relationship charade, and has deviant tastes.
Singular cravings.
Violent tendencies.
With time, I’ve figured out he’s a natural Dom and an unabashed sadist who’s brought out the masochist in me.
In a way, I’ve been falling into that rhythm, into his abnormality. I like the freedom that loss of control offers.
I relish the feeling of not having to count my every step, be a perfect mafia princess and everyone’s favorite person.
I crave the depravity and freedom he offers in a ‘take it or leave it’ deal.
But maybe I overestimated my pain tolerance abilities.
When the second slap comes, tears soak the blindfold and stream down my cheeks. The safe word is at the tip of my tongue.
I can end this.
If I choose to, I’ll end this.
The third strike hits me with something completely different than excruciating pain. The vibration in my core and clit heightens until it’s everything I feel.
By the fourth stroke, a moan and a sob tear from the back of my throat.
Pleasure pools between my legs and I try to clench them together, but that only tightens the binds around my ankles.
A foreign itch starts in my core, burning, waiting, throbbing for release.
I want to come.
I want to come.
I want tocome.
I’ve never experienced this type of stimulation before and I think it’ll be the death of me. That, somehow, I’ll faint right here, right now with the need to just come.
