Page 36 of Toy Shop

With each stroke, each course up and down his veins, and every flick on the bottom of his round, smooth crown, I’m edging closer to the brink of insanity.

In order to get what I’m greedy for, compliance is my best option.

My only option.

I press the button my thumb’s resting on. The balls’ slow thrum builds up, quivering within me. They vibrate inside my pussy, pulsing behind my clit. Alistair’s approving gaze unites us, securing me to him harder in an unbreakable bond.

He pushes off the wall, taking one step to loom over me. The heat of his body radiates to where I kneel, creating a sphere of heat to connect us further. I’m faintly aware of the ongoing vibrations in my pussy. My attention and desire are one, gripped by this massive, hotter-than-sin life force.

“My good little student.”

Alistair’s palm cups me beneath my chin, compelling me to stare into his eyes.

Sounds shouldn’t be this erotic, but when I listen to Alistair’s voice and the repetitive friction his palm creates as he pleasures his cock, I realize how wrong I’d be to think it. He’s composing a sex symphony, the pied piper demanding eternal obedience through lust.

“And my good girl here is going to make her Daddy come.” His thumb tips my bottom lip down, opening my mouth.

“Gonna choke on my cock while you get yourself off.” He stops stroking himself, resting the heavy head of his dick on my lips, slapping it on my flesh.

Pop, pop, pop.

Goosebumps prickle, roaring across my skin. A wildfire rather than a physical reaction. The sensual obscenity of being subjected to Alistair, to his glorified magnitude, is my complete destruction. My undoing. My ruination.

My paradise, too.

Famished by my arousal, I lick off the drop of precum glistening on the top of his crown, just to have him take it away. The torture burns, brutal as the harsh spanking he had laid on me.

He resumes touching himself, his dark stare decadent and luring. “Do you feel the toy in your tight little cunt, Nola?”

“No.” My lips quiver. There’s nothing I can hide from him, my soul and my body alike bear in his presence.

“What are you waiting for, then?” His hand slips to the back of my head, his grasp punishing. “I’ll be disappointed if you’ll slack in our classes; if I find out you haven’t come when my sperm is dripping on that beautiful face of yours. Very disappointed.”

Without a single word, I press the remote three consecutive times. The heightened speed blazes through my pussy, my surprised cry unfurling in the room.

“That’s my girl.” The encouraging praise barely settles in before he pries my mouth wide open and jams his cock behind my lips, down my throat.

Tears gather in my eyes, one of them breaking free and trickling along my cheek. I relax my jaw, inhaling deeply, accommodating at least some of his breadth in my eagerness for more.

“This.” He pulls back, shoving himself deep down my throat. I gag, breathe, get another inch in. Alistair returns to grasp the back of my neck, securing me in place. “Your tears, your pain. I. Own. Them. I’m your Daddy, your teacher, your everything.”

His broad shaft dominates my mouth; my tongue, my palate, blocking my airways. He withdraws, slamming in a third time. Despite my attempts, I choke and cough, spit dripping from my lips. But he likes it that way.

Alistair’s primal glare, the snarl on his full lips, they’re the indication of how irrevocably pleased he is.

“Cry, Nola.” He commences fucking my mouth relentlessly. “Give me your tears, give me your spit. Surrender your pain to me. Let me see my baby hurting, so I can make it better for her.”

His commands and actions tear through my body and soul. Another tear dampens my cheek, saliva smears down my chin. My pants and moans are chopped noises as I struggle to breathe.

Some sense of helplessness, at least a sliver, ought to infiltrate my mind in this compromising state I’m in.

For any other girl with any other man. Not me.

I’m ravenous, enamored, complete. Juices trickle down my inner thigh; the knot in my belly tightens. I want to tell him I’m a good girl, that I’m close, that I’m eager to come. Only I’m so full of his cock that breathing is a struggle, the moans flowing from me are whatever Alistair permits.

He gives me a pause, drags his cock out, gliding the heavy crown on the tip of my tongue, brushes my lips. The swollen, dripping flesh lies on my lips, while Alistair restrains my attempts to have more of him by holding my neck.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

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