Page 39 of The Masquerade: Room 2

“Good girl,” he growls as he caresses between my legs with the flogger. After a moment, he lifts it to show me the glistening leather. “Oh, you like that, little one. You’re fucking soaked.”

I moan as he reaches down, sliding his fingers over my entrance before putting them to his lips. “Even sweeter than I remember.”

The scent of his cologne mixed with leather is a heady cocktail, intoxicating my senses as he drapes the flogger over my breasts and flicks his wrist, catching my nipples with it. They instantly pebble, tightening as desire washes over me. It’s a pleasurable pain as he administers lash after lash, switching between my breasts and pussy.

“You will learn patience in this room. Your pleasure is mine to bestow or withhold. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You will not come unless I give you permission.”

“I… don’t know how to stop it, Sir.”

A low, rasping chuckle escapes him as his eyes meet mine. “It’s not yours to control. I can take you to the brink of fucking ecstasy and pull you back. You’ll learn to come on command, little one. You’ll beg me to let you come all over my fingers, face, and dick. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice is unrecognizable—a breathy whisper of wanton desire.

I’m rewarded as he drops to his knees and darts his tongue out to circle my clit. I can’t help the moan that escapes me.

“That’s it, little one. Let me hear how much you want to ride my face.”

“Oh God, yes, Sir.”

“So fucking wet and greedy for me. How many times have you gotten yourself off to the memory of my mouth on your pretty little cunt?” His breath is warm on my skin as he presses open-mouthed kisses to my folds before tasting me with one long, languorous lick.

I let my head rest against the hardwood cross, my brain scrambled by such intense pleasure.

“Answer me.”

“A lot, Sir. But not after you told me not to touch myself.”

“Such a good little girl.” He continues to kiss and lick my pussy, reaching up to grab my breast in his large, strong hand.

When he stops, I cry out in frustration as he stands, running his fingertips up my body until he cups my face. “Do you want to taste how fucking sweet you are when you’re aroused, little one?” His lips are almost touching mine, making me gasp, hungry for his kiss.

“Yes, Sir.”

His lips crash down on mine, his hands gripping me, forcing me to taste myself on his tongue as they twist and tangle in a frenzy, his groan pushing me to the edge of madness.

“Please… more.”

“Are you frustrated, little one?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He moves his lips to the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Good.”

Continuing his ministrations, I’m overwhelmed by the softness of his tongue, a stark juxtaposition from the stubble on his chiseled jaw. It feels too good. His hands grip my thighs, and at this moment, I would sell my soul for an orgasm.

“Oh God… yes… I’m so close.”

“Not yet, little one.”

“I…” My words die on my lips as he pushes me to the brink before pulling back. He leaves me writhing against the restraints, over and over again until I’m begging for release.

He takes a step back, his eyes roving over every inch of my body as he begins to unbutton his shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and lean, muscular abs, a mouthwatering V dipping beneath the waist of his pants.

“See something you like?” His panty-melting smile sets me on fire.

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