Page 59 of Loving the Liar

“Everything will be okay. You will enjoy this. I promise you. I react the same as you do.”

She stands up. “I’m leaving now. He’ll come whenever he wants. It might not be right away, so don’t panic. It also happens that some men ask Aphrodites to get ready for them and then don’t have time to show up. If I get a message stating to release you, I’ll come back.”

I hear the door, some shuffling, and then it shuts with a resounding click.

For a few minutes, I struggle on the bed. I resist my bonds and drag my head against the pillow to attempt to remove the blindfold. I wriggle in panic because I know that he’s going to put that dildo inside me, and somehow, I end up making myself hornier.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When I finally calm down, I’m dying to rub my thighs together, but the spreader bar stops me from doing so.

I moan, pressing my hips forward and attempting to hump against the sheets. I need stimulation. Anything.

I freeze when I hear something. I think it was a step. Maybe a few. With the loss of my sight, I’m hyper aware of sounds and the sensations on my skin. The leather is tight and warm. The plastic on my eyes is almost suffocating.

A hand touches my lower back, and I startle, a whimper escaping me. When did he come in? I didn’t hear the door. It must have been when Carla left. He walked in as she walked out…meaning he’s been watching me desperately try to feel something against my clit for long minutes.

Burning shame creeps up my face, and I can imagine the blush covering my body.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply moves his hand to my ass cheek, lower to the back of my thigh, then the other. Rubbing my skin, he massages the muscles, and every time it brings a bigger wave of need crashing over me.

I moan when he puts a hand on each of my ass cheeks and spreads them. It doesn’t touch me where I want, but the movement reverberates all the way to my clit. Then he strokes the apex of my thighs, closer and closer to my lips. He still hasn’t touched my pussy when he retreats. I feel a small shift and jerk when a wet finger traces the stretched lips of my mouth.

It’s slick with my arousal, and I know the point he’s making. I’m wet all the way to my inner thighs. He easily points out something else by spreading the spit spilling down my open mouth. My right cheek is flat against the pillow. I hate and love the way he traces his thumb all the way to the stain I must be making on the material.

Leaving my face, he focuses on my pussy again. A slight tap on my ass shows me I’ve been humping the bed aimlessly. I hadn’t even realized. My breathing picks up when he spreads my lower lips, and pleasure explodes through my body as he pushes two fingers inside me. There’s nothing stopping my desperate moan.

I feel like I’ve been gifted water after days in the desert, and some weird gratefulness courses through me. This is fucked.

His praise is silent, in the form of a hand caressing my hair. As he pushes farther inside me, I push back. I almost hear a “bad girl” when he pulls my hair, and I understand the message right away, keeping as still as I can.

First rule I learn tonight: don’t seek pleasure he’s not willing to give.

He releases my hair, stroking my head as he keeps finger-fucking me slowly. I’m whimpering behind the gag, desperate to move with him.

He keeps at the same pace, refusing to touch my clit, and doesn’t change a single thing. All I get are those two fingers fucking me. In and out. Slowly. The despair and pleasure are becoming best friends, and I freeze with shock as an orgasm rolls through my body.

I refuse to move, too scared to lose the pleasure. He drags it out languidly, and I choke on my own moans.

When his fingers retreat, I feel like a part of myself leaves with him. Probably my sanity. And when he pushes inside me again, this time with three fingers, I lose my mind completely.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the slight pain that comes with it keeps me right on the edge of reality. I can’t lose myself in pleasure with the way he holds me back. He’s still slow, still careful not to hurt me to the point that I wouldn’t enjoy this. And I try not to move, even as my limbs threaten to tremble. Because that last thing I would want is for him to stop. Suddenly, he pulls out, slaps my pussy, a sound of wetness resonating through the room, and then he pushes back in. Then he goes again, leisurely fucking me until I’m on the edge of another orgasm.

He doesn’t let me come this time. He gives me a short pause. I feel him shifting around, and when he comes back, he sits on the bed. The mattress dips where he is, and all I want is to get closer. My mind is drunk on lust, and I need him to touch me.

As his fingers come back, I could swear he spreads me wider…like maybe there are four this time. This is getting too confusing. All I know is that the pleasure burns in me like a flame, coating my skin in sweat, making my heartbeat double. The stretch is getting delicious, and I want more.

He gives me more.

He gives me exactly what I saw earlier.

When the head of the dildo presses to my entrance, I jerk and shriek behind the gag. This is bigger than his fingers. Even if he prepared me the best he could, there’s nothing he could have done for something as thick as this.

He pushes in slowly. Despite my wetness, I think he lubed it up, and I’m thankful for that when he retreats and pushes a little farther.

I don’t think I can do this. I can’t.

I shake my head, the pain overcoming the pleasure.

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