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To her great relief, he stopped, then rubbed her burning skin. Letting out a heavy sigh and sinking into his lap, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the merciful massage. But only a few seconds passed before she found herself wishing he’d slip his fingers between her legs. The unexpected longing was profound, and she couldn’t stop wriggling.
“While I have your attention,” he said calmly, “I want to know who took you, why they did it, and what’s stopping you from calling your father. When we wake up in the morning, you’ll give me the answers to those questions.”
“I don’t know how you expect me to sleep after this,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What did you just say?”
“I said I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep. You said I should tell you the truth, and that’s the truth.”
She heard him catch his breath, and to her chagrin, he abruptly stopped the comforting massage.
“Bianca, you’ll sleep,” he said softly, lifting his heavy leg from hers and pushing her thighs apart. “I’ll make sure of that right now.”
A rush of excitement pulsed through her veins.
“Don’t try to tell me you don’t want this,” he crooned, whispering his fingertips across her pussy.
Though she loved his tantalizing touch, a part of her wanted to object, but as he began to tease her clit, she melted into the divine moment.
“That’s it,” he murmured, increasing the pressure of his erotic massage. “I won’t always be so magnanimous, but it’s early days and you’re learning. Say ‘thank you, Sir.’”
“Thank you, Sir,” she managed, finding it hard to think about anything but her growing arousal.
“Now say ‘thank you for correcting me, Sir.’”
“Thank you for correcting me, Sir,” she repeated, then gasped as he thrust two fingers into her channel and vigorously moved them in and out.
“Now you know what happens to bad girls,” he declared, abruptly rubbing her clit again, “don’t you, Bianca?”
“Yes, yes,” she panted, shocked she could already feel the promise of a climax.
“When you’re ready to come, ask permission,” he ordered, pausing his salacious attention.
“Oh, no, please don’t stop.”
A sudden, stinging slap landed on the center of her backside.
“I don’t understand,” she whimpered. “What did I do?”
“First, I decide what to do and when to do it; second, you didn’t respond to my instruction.”
“Ooh, sorry. I’ll remember.”
“When you’re ready to come, ask permission,” he repeated. “Is that clear?”
“P-permission?” she stammered. “Uh, yes, Sir, it’s clear.”
“If you don’t I’ll stop, like I have now.”
“Okay, I will, I will,” she promised, wriggling on his lap and spreading her legs wider.
The unexpected exchange had only served to fuel her growing excitement, and as he returned his attention to her sensitive nub, she squirmed urgently, chasing the looming orgasm.
“You’re so wet,” he growled, shoving his fingers back into her soaked passage and thrusting in and out for long seconds. “You need to be fucked hard.”
As the wicked remark echoed through her head, he began alternating the ardent finger fucking with rubbing her clit, and the decadent play hurtled her into her orgasm.
“Please can I come, Sir?” she begged. “Please, please, can I?”
