Page 6 of The Hard Way

“Good girl.”

I shivered as he reached between my legs and slid a lone clever finger between my slick folds from behind, then drew my juices to my asshole and spread them around.

I gasped. It was so much sensation! I squeezed my butt cheeks together.

“Relax, baby.”

“If I relax, I’ll come.”

“Relax and don’t come.”

He let go of my nipple and palmed the globe of my butt cheek, pulling it sideways.

I whimpered as he exposed my asshole. “Keep your nipples on that wall. You will keep them glued to that stone as if your life depends on it.”

“Okay,” I panted.

He drew away from me. I heard the faint metallic crunch of a metal cap being opened.

The olive oil.

I swallowed, waiting in the cool night air.

I felt the cool dribble of oil at the top of my seam. Thor pulled apart my cheeks, and the drip descended down—slowly, ticklingly, tracing a cool, slow path toward my asshole.

Everything in me and my entire universe of awareness was focused on that one slow-moving drip, heading south toward my wildly sensitive pucker. Like nothing else existed except that drip and my asshole.

I whimpered, and Thor just pulled my cheeks wider in the cool air.

“Fuck.” I tried to concentrate on the rough rubbing on my nipples, on the rusty flakiness of the bars I clung onto above me, but I was all about that drip, and I had this irrational fear that I’d explode in an orgasm once it hit my pucker, and once I got that in my head, I couldn’t get it out.

Finally it hit my asshole. I clenched up, breathing through the sensation.

Thor grunted in satisfaction.

My entire body sprung to attention as Thor lit his oily finger upon my asshole. He began to move it—slowly, deliciously—around and around. He was only touching the outside of my asshole, sliding the olive oil around and around it in the same basic place—around the block, if you will—but each trip around gave me shivery new pulses of excitement. Stoking me up higher and higher. With trips around the block like this, who needed exotic vacations?

“Uh,” I said.

“You feel everything here,” he said, coating my pucker with more oil. “So sensitive, like we never even fucked you here.” Slowly he worked it in, pressing in further and further. He pulled it out, added oil, and pressed in, wiggling mercilessly against my entrance.

His finger was as evilly intelligent as his tongue, wiggling like itknew, like it just knew that was my orgasm kryptonite, working deeper and deeper. I felt it so vividly and precisely—his knuckle, his fleshy finger pad. Inside me. I thought I would die. Instead I just moaned.

“What?”

“I can feel every bit of your finger.”

“That’s right, baby,” he said, drawing it out and plunging it in again. “Take it deeper. Feel how I’m in you.”

“If I feel any more, I’ll be in the fourth dimension.”

“You can handle it.” He wiggled his finger inside me now. OMG, the wiggle was back!

His lips were sayingdon’t come, but his wiggling finger had different ideas. “Good girl.” He pulled his finger out and ran it along my seam, teasing it again.

“Oh my god, no more!”

“Shhh,” he said. “I’d put a gag around that mouth of yours if I didn’t think Odin had plans for it later.”

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