Page 107 of Captured Fantasy

“Good.”

The vibrations increased and I cried out, managing to keep my gaze locked with his. I was overstimulated, pleasure building so fast in my hips that my inner walls were crushing down on the vibrator. But the tighter I got, the more the toy pushed up into me and off my G-spot. Sparks danced before my eyes as one minute dragged to two and then to three…four…five. He adjusted the pattern every thirty seconds, playing my body from across the room.

“I need to come,” I gasped.

“Enza, I’ve barely started,” he said, a hint of coldness in his voice.

My God, that ice in his tone sent a flood of wetness down my thigh. His mouth jerked at the corner as he leaned forward, his elbows rested on his knees.

“So fucking wet, baby,” he breathed.

He turned the vibrator off and I sagged, gasping for air. He stood and laid aside his phone, advancing on me slowly and kneeling. His touch was gentle as his finger slid up into me, catching the string and pulling it from my body. I shuddered as it came out.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Please…what?” His eyes glinted as he gathered the lube from my pussy and spread it over my asshole, working it inside me.

“Let me come.”

Instead of answering, he went back to the bedside table and retrieved another toy. He drew near me, taking my chin and tilting it, his fingers forcing my jaw open. I felt cool metal on my tongue as he pushed it into my mouth, fucking me with it. I moaned as he pulled back.

He knelt on one knee on the bed and slid the object between my legs. I cried out at the pain rippling through me as he pressed the plug into my ass, working it gently. Teasing the tight muscle.

“You’re my little whore,” he breathed into my neck. “Someday I’m going to fuck your ass, baby, and you’re going to love it.”

“I want that,” I breathed. “Please.”

He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

I gasped as he knelt before the bed, pulling me to the end of it so I was caught between the restraints and his grip. He bent and his tongue swiped between my legs, hot against my clit. I arced, desperate, working my hips against his mouth. I needed him to make me come, to put me out of this misery.

He ignored my pleadings and ate me slowly. His lips and tongue teased the soft folds of my sex. I couldn’t see his face, but the sight of his dark head pushed between my thighs, coupled with the hot strokes over my desperate flesh brought me closer and closer to release. At the last minute, as I stood at the edge, about to fall over, I cried out.

“I’m going to come.”

He pulled back and slapped my pussy sharply, stopping my orgasm in its tracks. My ears pounded and I distantly heard my frustrated wail as he stood.

“I told you I wasn’t going to let you come yet,” he hissed. “You didn’t listen.”

I shook my head, too limp to argue.

“Are you going to apologize?”

A shiver moved through my body and I sank below the surface and entered that sweet, submissive space where there was nothing but him and what he wanted. Where my body could finally relax and I could submit in the safety of his control.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I breathed.

He kissed my mouth, tasting of my arousal. “See that it doesn’t happen again. Not until I give permission.”

I nodded as he knelt again and spread my thighs, his mouth returning to my pussy. My whole body sagged, my fingers tangled in the ropes, as pleasure fought against my resolve. I closed my eyes, my lashes wet, and begged my body not to betray me. I wanted—no, I needed to please him more than I needed release.

He drank me down and I grew more and more intoxicated by the sensation of fighting my orgasm. I let my head hang back, the ceiling swirling overhead, as he ate me with torturous strokes.

It could have been an hour or five minutes before he pulled away. He stood before me, cupping my chin and offering me water to wet my parched throat. He let me drink, stroking my hair until I’d calmed down. Then he was back between my thighs, working me back up until I was caught in that sweet place of torture once more.

“I need to come. Now,” I breathed up at the ceiling.

“Not yet,” he murmured from somewhere very far below.

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