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A click, and it buzzes. Desmond slowly lowers it until it’s in front of my clit. Without warning, he presses it against me.
“Oh.” My eyes widen as I look at Desmond. His gaze is glued to where he holds the device against me.
It’s quick and efficient. My body buzzes, and my core tightens and coils. An orgasm threatens to rush up and spill over within seconds, as though I have no control over it, and that is exactly what this is all about—control.
He is using my body against me.
He pulls the toy away just as my orgasm threatens to crest.
“Tell me,” Desmond demands. “Everything.”
My mouth parts as I stare at Lyric, a cruel smirk on his face.
“I…” Pausing, I focus on my breath, getting my body under control.
Desmond presses the toy against my clit again. “I have plenty of time to wait for your answers, Charlotte. The question is, how much of this can you take?”
My teeth clench as I struggle to hold back the pleasure. I won’t let him break me. I won’t succumb to this twisted game. With every touch of that device, though, and every surge of pleasure, the battle becomes harder to fight.
He pulls the toy away just as my limbs shake. This time, I grunt in annoyance, turning to Desmond. “What the hell is this?”
“Torture, kitten.” He leans in and whispers against my ear. “Orgasm denial. How long can you last before you tell me the truth? Hmm?”
He presses it against my clit. This time, my body coils quickly, and I’m so close. He pulls away.
“How?” I all but shout, letting my head rest against the back. “How do you know?”
“I can see the way your muscles tighten, the way they coil and contract,” Desmond mutters and steps back.
His hands move methodically as if he’s done it a thousand times before. I watch the clock in agony, each second feeling like an eternity as he pushes me closer to the edge of ecstasy, only to pull away at the last moment. My head shakes from side to side, my breathing heavier and more desperate with every denied orgasm.
Somehow, I hold out through sheer stubbornness alone.
Desmond chuckles as he moves away again, and my whole body buzzes. Arousal drips down my thighs, cooling as it goes. My breasts feel heavy, too heavy, and my mind feels delirious.
This time, though, I whimper when he steps back.
“There it is,” he coos. “Finally.” He disappears to the right, and my eyes fall to the guys. Lyric rubs his cock through his pants, and Matty’s cheeks are red, and he keeps twitching. I lick my lips as my eyes fall to where Lyric rubs himself. I remember how ruthlessly he fucked me, and my body clenches down, making me whimper all over again.
The mixture of sensations, the denial, and the growing desire for more have twisted me into knots. This is a maddening game of pleasure and pain, a test of my willpower and endurance. Desmond is relentless, pushing me to the brink and then retreating, the psychological warfare almost as intense as the physical. Amidst it all, the dark shadows of the room bear witness to this spectacle, amplifying the discomforting ambiance of the dungeon.
Desmond steps in front of me again and kneels down. In his hand is a hot pink toy, curved like a C, one end thicker than the other. One finger traces a path up my leg to my clit, and my core pulses painfully, and I whimper again.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you what you want, Charlotte,” he whispers as he pushes the bulbous head inside me. It presses against my G-spot. “Lyric has the remote for this.”
As soon as the words are out, it buzzes, and my entire body lights up. My scream echoes off the walls, and my head falls back. Desmond leans in, his mouth covering my clit.
I’m going to come. Finally.
Only they stop and pull away.
My moan of frustration is met with a wicked grin from Desmond. I’m a mess of desire and need, teetering on the edge of a precipice, and he seems to revel in it. The relentless stimulation and sudden denial have turned my body into a live wire. I’m trembling with need, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I can feel myself dripping, the wetness making a path to the drain in the center of the room.
I don’t even have the decency to feel ashamed of my reactions.
“Desmond, please,” I beg, every ounce of pride and resistance crumbling as desperation takes over.
“Tell me, Charlotte,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry promise that he would tip me over into that sweet abyss if I comply.
