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I hardly have time to contemplate what’s happening before I feel a tongue pressed to my center, licking the length of my entrance. My back arches off the bed as I come awake immediately, pure pleasure infusing me from the base of my spine up to the beaded points of my breasts.
Oh, Jesus.
Instantly, I’m assailed by sensations. Pleasure courses through my veins like liquid fire, spreading through my entire body. I let loose a breathless moan. But when I reach down to run my fingers through his hair where his head is pressed against my center, I realize I can’t.
Both of my hands are cuffed to the headboard. Evan has wrapped the chain from my collar’s leash all the way around my chest so that it’s tight across my nipples. He tugs on it lightly as he continues to work his mouth against my clit. With each dragging breath, he pulls that chain tighter, making my nipples raw with pleasure and pain. His hands press against my thighs, pushing them impossibly wide. I’m spread out before him on the bed like a starfish.
His hands tighten on my thighs as he forces my knees even wider apart. His mouth never leaves me, continuing his relentless assault. His tongue connecting with my clit and then thrusting into me by alternate turns until I’m out of my mind with pleasure, every nerve ending set aflame.
And I’m crying out with animal grunts and calling his name, willing him to bring me to release. After earlier this evening and his abandonment, I’d fallen asleep, still unfulfilled. Now, hours later, I’m this close to coming.
But it doesn’t take long for me to figure out that he’s toying with me. Just when the sensations start to build and intensify, he pulls his mouth away to lick the outsides of my labia, or my thighs, or even up to my navel. As soon as he pulls his mouth away from my center, the build peters out.
Over and over again, he does this so that it becomes a game—how close will he get me before he pulls away again?
“Please—” I finally gasp.
He pulls his head away and looks up at me. “You’re on the right track, Madeline. If you beg me nicely enough, I may just let you come.”
I twist beneath him, suddenly enraged. Fuck if I’m going to beg him. Making me come brings him pleasure, too. He wouldn’t deny me. I can feel his hard cock against my leg. He wants it again—needs it again—and if he fucks me, there’s no way he can prevent me from coming.
So instead I very visibly bite my lip. He watches me, a smile on his lips. His finger slips down to lightly stroke me, and I almost leap off the bed, panting.
“Beg, Madeline. Beg me.”
“Evan—fuck!” I say as he shoves two fingers into my pussy, his lips twist in a wicked grin as he curls his fingers, touching me at that spot deep inside. I will not beg.
“You will beg, and you’ll call me sir.”
I ignore him, mindless with ecstasy and agony thrumming with every beat of my heart. “Evan—”
Abruptly, he pulls away from me, removing his fingers from my channel. I wait for a second, panting. He can’t possibly be serious. His hard-on looks painful, straining.
So I taunt him. “You think you’re punishing me? You’re also punishing yourself. I can see how much you want to fuck me.”
His smile widens, and my heart races. I’m starting to learn to fear that smile. Evan sits up and then swings a leg over me, straddling me over my belly but not resting his full weight on me.
“I’ll fuck you soon enough. How and when I want. Don’t you worry about me.”
He grasps his cock and starts to stroke it. I rest my head back on the pillow, closing my eyes.
Seconds later, he jerks the chain on my collar and my eyes snap open. “Eyes open. I want you to watch me.”
“I don’t want to watch you,” I snap waspishly.
“I don’t care what you want. You will obey. You swore to. And that collar around your neck is that promise. Watch me, Madeline. Watch me come on you.”
And I take a deep breath and focus my eyes on the erotic motion of his hand over his cock as he slowly, lovingly strokes himself. The other hand comes down to finger my nipple under the chain and it beads to a point, but that’s not nearly enough stimulation to help me along in my quest for an orgasm.
He lets out a low moan as my nipple responds under his firm attention. “Fuck, you feel so good. I want you writhing underneath me, Madeline. I want my cock deep inside you. I want you calling me master and begging me to let you come.”
I bite my lip and watch as his erection stiffens so that it’s pointing straight up. And I’m almost forgetting about my own throbbing sex as I watch him—this smoking hot man—bring himself to orgasm as he fantasizes about me. I admire his cock. It’s a thing of beauty, long and girthy, veined and powerful.
Then his grip tightens and his pace quickens and his breath is hissing between clenched teeth. He leans forward and presses his thumb in my mouth, pulling it wide open as he stops, arching, his hot semen spraying on my stomach and breasts. He sits, frozen for a few moments as he continues to pump himself, taking a long time to come. My own sex is throbbing so much it’s painful.
“Evan, please.”
But he ignores me, reaching down draw a finger through the pool of semen on my belly. He then starts to “mark” me with the sticky liquid, much as he did that first night, massaging his come into my skin—everywhere. He seems absorbed in the task for several long, silent minutes, oblivious to my labored breaths, my throbbing, pleading body.
