Page 44 of Captured Onyx

She squirms, moving her hips in a rotating motion that clearly tells me of her inner fight. One moment she moves closer, so close that her wetness almost meets my palm, just to retreat in the last second, pulling away as if something scared her away.

She wants me to touch her, but her stubbornness won't allow her body to win out over her mind.

"You want me to break my promise?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

And I also know she'll deny the truth.

She shakes her head, shielding her eyes from mine, just like any liar would.

"Look at me."

Her eyelids flutter nervously before she convinces herself to comply.

"You know how much I hate liars," I warn her.

She nods, quivering.

"So I’ll ask you again: do you want me to break my promise? Do you want me to touch you?"

She mewls as if in pain, pressing her lips together while her breathing turns more erratic. I watch her suffering through her unsatisfied arousal, her senses heightened and her soft spots even more sensitive to touch. There’s no direct contact, no friction driving her desire, and yet she’s writhing as she tries to cope with the heat that’s taken over her body and soul.

It’s tempting to see how she’d react. If this is what she’s like with just a little rope keeping her in place, teasing her with merely a taste of what I’m capable of, I can’t even imagine what it must be like when I give her everything I have. She’s a surprise in that regard, a very pleasant one.

I told her to be honest, but it still takes me by surprise when she nods, finally willing to let her mind be subdued by her body’s impulses.

But it’s not enough for me.

"Say it," I insist. "I want to hear you say it."

Another mewl flees her and she moves her lips, grimacing as if the thought of having to say it out loud was causing her physical pain. But with every moment that passes without a response, she’s risking aggravating her situation, and she knows that. She’s running out of time, and the pressure of that understanding spurs her without any action on my part.

"Please… touch me," she stutters, trying her best not to break eye contact, even as a shadow of hot shame streaks across her beautiful expression. "Please break your promise."

I smile at her, but it’s not a benevolent gesture.

"Good girl," I praise, moving my hand just a bit closer to her heated core. She whimpers and moans in turns, trying to force a touch that I’m not willing to grant.

I never intended to. I just needed to hear her say it. I needed her to be honest with me, to admit that she wants me, to admit that she likes what I’m doing to her.

And now that she has, I can properly punish her.

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