AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Daphne groans, embarrassed, frustrated, and tries to shut me out. She can’t. She struggles harder against the rope and I watch her movement change. An infinitesimal shift in the roll of her hips. She’s not trying to fight me. She’s trying to fuck my fingers.
“Pain is beautiful on this piece.” I skim my fingers over her opening, teasing her. “But there’s something I want to see more.”
Her eyes are fiery with how much she wants this. How mortified she is. What? Her mouth makes the word, but she can’t put any sound behind it.
“Pleasure,” I tell her, and push two fingers into her.
Fuck them gently in and out.
It’s tame as far as these scenarios go. Not the kind of hardcore shit you’d find in any of those clubs. But the effect on Daphne is electric. She can’t stop looking at me. Can’t regain control over her breath. Her pussy pulses again and again around my fingers. I add another. She’s hotter by the second. A human flame.
“I can’t move,” she says, her voice choked.
“That’s right,” I agree. “Art stays in its place. My pieces stay where I put them. They know to stay in their frames and obey. You’re so wet, Daphne. You’re making a mess of my fingers.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Should I put more bite marks on you? Would that teach you not to lie?”
“No,” she pleads, and her sweet cunt clenches tight.
I keep my fingers there while I add more marks to her nipples. While I add a light, grazing one to her shoulder. Not deep enough to last or bruise. I’ve always been more captivated by sight, but the sounds she makes—
Holy Christ. Begging moans.
I keep fucking her with my fingers and kneel down again. Her perfect cunt is inches from my face. “I haven’t marked this yet, little painter.”
A sob twists out of her, but it’s not sad. It’s not pained at all. It’s just emotion rising to the surface. Spilling over. Pure, sweet need.
My teeth on her soft flesh, just above her clit, make her cry harder. Her desire runs down my fingers to my wrist. It’s dripping into my shirt. It has never been more important to observe her. To hear her. The pitch of her voice rises as I bite. Before they reach the peak of real pain, I relent.
And add another finger.
Four of them. She’s stretched now. My little painter is small and tight.
“That’s a lot,” she gasps. “A lot.”
“Relax.” She tries. “You have no choice but to take it, little painter.” One of her tears drips off her cheek and lands on the edge of the frame. I have no doubt that the intensity is increased a hundredfold by the bondage. I get to my feet again and look into her face. Her eyes are still open. She is not bothering to hide from me. “I love this work.” I kiss some of her tears away and put the pad of my thumb to her clit. Daphne tenses a little. I have, after all, just bitten her there. But her body begins to melt.
“Your fingers are big,” she murmurs.
“I’m bigger. And you’ve taken me several times.”
“Different now,” she manages.
“Yes. You’re exactly where I want you.” In this frame. On my fingers. “No,” I snap.
She startles. “What? What did I do?”
“You’re not going to come until I give you permission.”
Daphne’s face crumples. More silver tears leak from her eyes. “That’s not fair, Emerson, that’s really not fair.”
Goddamn it. She loves this. It’s explicit on her face. It’s so fucking beautiful. This might be the only time in my life I’m not pushing the world away. I’d rather be right here, close to her, listening to her breathe and squirm and moan and cry.
“I can’t.” Her voice breaks.
“Wait.”
