Page 27 of Ryker

The vibrator’s speed kicks up a notch.

“Still green?”

I nod.

Whatever he’s got inside me quickens, and my body coils around the pressure and pleasure. It builds, builds, builds, then—

I scream through an orgasm that has me seeing stars. My body erupts in goosebumps, chills, heat, and bliss. My voice cracks as I scream, my pussy clenching around whatever he’s got stuffed inside me. The lower half of my body sways, suspended in the air by the hooked spreader bar. I’m dizzy. Heart hammering, I lift onto my elbows and try to tell him to let up on the vibrator. I need a minute to climb down from this euphoria, but another orgasm assails me instead.

I can’t catch my breath.

I can’t see straight.

I can’t move.

Crying out around the silicone ball in my mouth, I choke on my spit. Sir doesn’t relent. In fact, he keeps me coming until I’m in the yellow.

My thighs shake, my hips are sore, my body feels too hot and strung out. I can’t breathe, my head’s spinning, and dots sprinkle in my vision.

“Are you still green?”

I shake my head.

“Are you yellow?”

I nod.

The bastard turns the vibrator up and makes me come over and over until I’m sobbing. Fat tears fall down the sides of my face and soak my hair. I’m covered in sweat. I can’t feel my cheeks. I can’t feel my ass. I can’t feel my pussy.

Everything’s a violent combination of overly sensitive and completely numb.

He’s broken me before breakfast was served.

Mr. Hudson doesn’t stop.

I try yelling at him through the ball gag to give me a minute to recuperate. With barely enough strength to prop myself up, I cuss him out with my ball gag.

“I’m sorry, Butterfly. What was that?” He presses the vibrator harder against my clit and my next orgasm makes me nauseous. My thighs shake as I buck against it and my head hits the mattress again. Fuck!

“Are you green again?”

I shake my head fast.

“Yellow?”

If I go to red, he’ll stop. If I say yellow, he’ll continue, and I might die.

I don’t know what do to because I don’t want him to stop, and I can’t let him continue. My body’s mush. My head’s a foggy mess. My pussy tingles and feels pulverized.

“Butterfly, are you yellow?”

I don’t have an answer.

“Fuck.” The vibrator shuts off, and he tosses it to the side. Quickly unhooking my ankles from the spreader bar, he lowers me down slowly.

I cry out because my muscles hurt. Fumbling with the buckle on my gag, my hands tremble too much for me to unlatch it.

“I’ve got it,” he says in a gruff voice. For someone who did nothing but play with toys, he sure sounds as exhausted as I am. Sir releases the gag from my mouth and my jaw aches from being open for so long.

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