Page 108 of Ryker

Tara cries out as she climaxes. It’s the most beautiful scene I’ve ever witnessed. Her hair’s a mess, her makeup is smudged, her flowery dress is twisted up around her hips, her thighs shake, and chest rises with every ragged breath she takes. By the time Tara finishes riding out her orgasm and closes her legs, I’m wound up tighter than a snare drum with anticipation to see what she’ll do next.

“I’m so wet,” she whimpers. “My fingers weren’t enough.”

Bet not.

“I need something bigger, Sir.”

My dick will do nicely.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Swallowing is harder than it should be.

“Keep my panties in your mouth while you do it.”

Jesus Christ. Humiliation isn’t a sensation I endure anymore. That emotion left me a long time ago. But the desire to have things I don’t deserve is my biggest flaw. It’s also one of my biggest turn-ons.

Rising to my feet, I storm over to a box of condoms and grab one.

“What’s that for?” she asks from the floor.

Silently, I point at my raging hard on.

“No. I don’t think you’ve earned that privilege yet.”

A growl of frustration tears from my chest.

“Fuck me with that,” she says, pointing at one of the floggers hanging on my wall. “And after I come around the handle, I want you to clean it off with your tongue, then I’ll use it on you.”

The condom falls out of my hand and flutters on the floor. For someone who said she didn’t have much experience in kinks, Tara sure knows how to play with all of mine. Reaching for the flogger, I also grab a bottle of lube because this handle isn’t necessarily the smoothest.

“Crawl,” she orders.

My eyes narrow. Tara’s testing my patience and tolerance.

Good thing I studied.

Sinking to my knees, I hold the handle side up and make my way over to her, stopping right between her spread legs. My girl’s not bashful. Nor should she be. Tara’s not only a perfect Butterfly, but a perfect woman. Soft and hard, confident yet cautious, strong but delicate.

To my disappointment, she snatches the lube and flogger from me, making it clear that I don’t get to help yet. With a wry smile, she obscenely strokes the handle, nice and slow. “Don’t you wish this was your dick about to sink inside me?”

I nod.

Tara lubes the handle and my cock throbs, greedy and jealous like the rest of me. Her hands shake, so I put mine on top as comfort, then I take the flogger from her. Leaning in for a kiss, I stop midway, realizing I can’t.

This part of the punishment hurts most because it denies me the very thing I’ve deprived her of this entire time. What I’ve forbidden myself to have for so long. A simple kiss on the mouth.

It’s my kryptonite.

Tara’s nails scrape my chest as she circles all my tattoos playfully. “I want you to want me.”

“I do,” I mumble, desperate for her to understand just how much.

“Prove it.” She lies on the floor and spreads her legs.

Gripping the flogger, I lean down to smell her precious cunt first. With a flick of my wrist, I bring the tassels down on her sensitive flesh, slapping her pussy with a light thud.

Tara gasps and closes her thighs, reflexively.

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