Page 15 of Tied

Oh my God, he is making me beg again.

He did that the last time, too. He teased me, lured me closer, until I was practically on my knees, pleading for him to fuck me. I remember the humiliation all too well, and I’m not sure if I’m up for it today.

“That is up to you, sir.”

He huffs, shaking his head with a condescending smile.

Then he reaches down to his belt—and my eyes follow his movements. He unbuckles it. He unzips his pants. My breath hikes. He’s already rock hard, so when he pulls down his pants and his briefs in one swift motion, his massive erection springs free right in front of my face.

My lips part on instinct. It’s not a conscious response, and as soon as I notice, I feel a tide of shame washing over me.

He chuckles darkly when I close my mouth.

“Don’t try to hide it, Riley,” he hisses. “I know what a good little slut you are.”

I suck in a sharp breath when he bows down to me, holding his steely length with one hand while the other reaches between my legs. I recoil at his touch, though it is anything but unpleasant. Embarrassment fuels my arousal when he glides between my wet folds, skillfully finding the magical spot that electrifies my entire core as soon as he touches it.

I can’t suppress a moan leaving my lips as my head falls back, and I spread my legs even further, leaning into his caress while he massages my swollen clit.

I thought it was the whipping that made me so insanely greedy for him. I thought it was that sweet, sweet afterglow that pulsated through my center after the leathery strings kissed my sensitive skin with such ferocity.

Maybe it’s the memory that drives me. Maybe my mind is adding to the mental picture of what is going on right now.

Or maybe he is just that good.

“What a perfect little slut you are for me,” he growls, and the sound of his deep voice eggs me on even more. “You want to get fucked, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I rasp against my better judgment. “Yes, please. Please fuck me.”

I don’t care that I’m begging again. I don’t care that he’s humiliating me just like he did last time.

I don’t care. All I can think of is my yearning for him and the lust that I’d almost forgotten about. All I know is that I crave for him to be buried inside me. Now.

My eyes are half-closed when I look up at him, repeating my pathetic pleas. “Fuck me, please, sir...”

And when he edges closer, his massage around my sensitive nub turns almost unbearably delightful. When he places the tip of his cock at my entrance, I'm led to believe that he will grant my wish. I lean into his touch, my hips jutting forward, inviting him in while I relish the feeling of his skilled hands playing between my legs. I’m so close to coming, but I don’t want it to happen before he’s inside me—not again.

I want to feel him inside me. I want to become one with him and feel his cock pulsating with me as I ride on my wave of joy.

But he has other plans. Plans that are even more cruel than what he did to me the last time I was tied up like this.

He withdraws, stroking his length above me while l glance up at him with pleading eyes. I mewl with disappointment when he removes his other hand from my center, leaving me unsatisfied and pathetically needy.

He stands up straight, towering over me while continuing to stroke his rock hard cock viciously.

“Please…” I murmur, ashamed at how desperate I sound.

He shakes his head.

“No. You don’t deserve to come.”

I stare at him with wide eyes, refusing to believe what he just said. His dark gaze is locked on mine, his eyes narrowed, and his face is tense as he brings himself to a brutal climax. He groans loudly as his hot cum drips all over my body, only increasing the torment of not being allowed to orgasm. I join his exclamations of joy, sounding just the same, even though my cries are born out of agony and not pleasure.

This is so much worse than what he did to me before.

And, as it turns out, this is only the beginning.

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