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This scares me a little. Can I resist the urge to beg? To try to reason with him? To speak the title he's demanded from me over and over?
I don't know, but the gag is starting to hurt, and it makes me panic and feel like I can't take in proper breaths. He unfastens the straps and pulls it off me. I lick my dry lips, then something plastic prods at my mouth.
“Drink.” When I hesitate, he says “It's only water.”
I take the water he offers, then lie back when he pulls it away.
A moment later, I feel his tongue between my legs, and I’m already past the point of even pretending to resist him. I don't speak. I don't beg. I just arch up toward his exploring tongue, whimpers and moans flowing out of me.
My first orgasm comes after only a few minutes. But he doesn't stop. He drinks me up, never slowing in his assault on my senses. He pulls away, and I'm panting.
He leaves me for a moment, and I take a long shaky breath. I know he isn't finished with me. Upon his return, I hear the distinct buzzing sound. I can tell he has it on the highest setting.
I cringe away before he reaches me, but he spreads me wide so that he can press these intense vibrations directly against my clit. I struggle away from the sensation, but there’s nowhere to go. He grips my hip, stilling me.
“Be good and accept it, Pretty Toy.”
I breathe slowly. After a little while, the sensations start to feel like pleasure again as another orgasm prepares to crest over me. But before it can, he pulls it away from my clit.
The words “Please, Master” are at the edge of my tongue before I bite them back, remembering the promise of punishment.
He chuckles at this. He pushes the vibrator inside me much as he did that first day. This time I know I'll come. And it's as earthshattering as it was the first time, building from some place deep within me and then exploding outward. I buck my hips with it, trying to fuck the toy instead of the toy fucking me.
I'm panting and whimpering when it finally subsides, and he pulls the toy away. But he only allows me a minute of rest before he's started in on me again. He uses multiple toys in a rotation as he drags orgasm out of orgasm from my quivering pussy.
My legs shake with the force of each release, and I bite my tongue to stop myself from begging please, no more. Please, please, Master, stop. But I hold these words in. I don't want to be punished. But in its own way, this is becoming a different kind of punishment.
Still, I don't allow myself to beg.
Some of the toys vibrate, some of them don't. One feels similar to oral sex against my clit. Some are larger than others, stretching me as they make me come for him. Sometimes he stimulates my clit, and other times he brings my orgasm out from the inside, training me to produce these new and exciting pleasurable pulses at his command.
I've lost count of how many orgasms I've had.
The next thing that slides inside me is his cock. He's on top of me, his movements so achingly slow that even with all the pleasure I've already had, I find myself arching up into him.
He leans close to my ear. “This time, you will come.”
I've come so many times since we've been down here that it's nothing to my body to do it just one more time for his cock. He shudders and releases inside me as my pussy grips onto him, milking him while riding out my own orgasm.
Finally, he collapses on top of me. And then he's peppering kisses over my throat, moving to my mouth, causing me to jump as his tongue slips inside. His kiss is consuming, possessing. I didn't expect him to kiss me, and I'm so confused by how it makes me feel.
After a few more minutes, I hear him collecting and moving things about. Water runs in an attached room, probably a bathroom, as he cleans things up. He returns and unties me but leaves the blindfold in place. I feel unsteady as he helps me to stand.
“Come with me,” he says. He guides me slowly across the floor and up the stairs. When we leave the dungeon I sense we're moving back down that same hallway.
I think he's returning me to the cell, but there’s a shift in direction. Then we're climbing another set of stairs. Another hallway. After what just happened in the dungeon, I feel so tired, I'm afraid I'll collapse. But before I can, he picks me up and lays me down on a bed.
He locks a chain around my ankle and removes the blindfold. He covers me with blankets. I'm dimly aware that he's brought me up to what must be his room.
“Sleep.”
He pulls the shades down and turns out the light, then leaves me alone in his bed. I haven't been awake that long, but after all that happened this morning, I’m so exhausted that it doesn't take very long for sleep to claim me.
7
Several days pass, and a routine is formed. I sleep in my captor's bed with him each night. He fondles me. He fucks me. He lies behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into him—the little spoon—as though we’re normal lovers. As though I mean something to him. This intimate cuddling is what unmakes me the most; it's the thing that makes it harder and harder to think of escape.
He's trained me to wake him with a blow job each morning and to swallow like a good girl. When I complete this task, he rewards me with those words which fill me with an inappropriate pride each time I hear them. After that, he feeds me, bathes me, and then takes me to the dungeon where he forces orgasm after orgasm out of me until he's satisfied.
