Page 15 of Valentine's Slave

The fullness at the back and the front at the same time overwhelms me, and I buck against his hand, grinding my hipsback and forth, moaning as loud as I can. He just increases the pressure, rolling my hips from the inside, gyrating me back and forth while the plug continues to press against me. The last bead is huge, and I don’t know if it’s going to fit, but I don’t care because I’m on fire, and everything is pulsing and sizzling together, all the sensations shooting through me at once.

Valentino thrusts hard and deep in my pussy. Meanwhile, he puts more pressure on the plug, and the biggest glass ball sinks all the way inside, stretching me and filling me with a hot suction feeling that makes me cry out with pleasure and shock.

He slaps my ass now, and I scream, the sound muffled, curling into a moan, my chest heaving up and down with my breath. Everything flexes, and I gasp as he taps the hilt of the plug, making the sensitive cavity ripple with sensations. My pussy is soaked, and I’m panting, trembling on my hands and knees, heat flooding through me.

“That’s it,” Valentino says, a satisfied smug in his tone. “You’re all plugged up for me like the dirty little Valentine that you are. And now, you’re going to show me how you use your tongue.”

He disappears for a few seconds, and then I hear his voice in front of me.

“Look at me,” he says, and while I can’t see him, I follow his voice, lifting my head. He unties the cloth to ungag me, and I hear his smile.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

Something in my stomach tightens, and I feel the plug deep and heavy in my ass, while my pussy slowly stops pulsing. My heart is still thrashing, and I feel like I’m already ravaged, already his, but I’m still not at all about the idea of sucking his dick like a good little whore.

Except if I’m going to be his slave, I have to.

5

Valentino

She’s glorious. Trembling and naked, on her hands and knees, bound and blindfolded, the Snowman anal plug buried in her ass, her hot little pussy warm and ready for more. But this is merely the preliminary round. This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to her later, how I’m going to break her, ravage her, make her scream for real. If she thinks this is intense, wait until she signs the contract.

She doesn’t fight it this time when I order her to open her mouth, but she must have had a bad experience in the past because I note the sudden dip in her energy, how her shoulders sag ever so slightly. However, she keeps her chest pushed forward, showing off those gorgeous breasts hanging below her, her pink nipples hard and erect. She’s hot for me, more than she’d admit. Her black bra is still dangling from her shoulders, and when she moves ever so slightly, it rubs against her nipples, making her whimper.

I like to see her like this, open and undone for me. I want to go deeper into her, not just into her body but into her soul, to see what she’s made of, to find out what dark secrets she carries, what fears and shames have shaped her sexual flare.

She spreads her pink lips tentatively, her chin tilted up towards me.

“That’s a good girl,” I say, my index finger under her chin as I stroke her with my thumb, leaning forward until my mouth is right in front of hers.

“Show me how you please your master,” I whisper, not quite letting my lips touch hers. I won’t kiss her, not now, not after. Kissing isn’t part of my ritual, though I will fuck her in every way humanly possible.

“Now, lick.”

I pull back as I bring a thick popsicle to her lips. It’s made of pure sugar water, and the cold seems to shock her. She’s not getting my cock tonight. When she’s mine, that’s another story. But now is her chance to prove to me what she can do and how willing she is.

The head of the popsicle brushes her lips, and she leans forward, licking up and down its length. I lean forward and bring my fingers back to her pussy, sliding two fingers in and pumping her deep and fast.

Moaning, she licks harder, making her lips a perfect O as she takes the popsicle into her mouth, lifting her chin, her blond hair falling back as she takes more into her mouth. I yearn to see my cock in her mouth, to see her need, her grovelling.

Said cock is straining against my dress pants, and I yearn to rip off my own clothes and plunge into her. Seeing her naked, on her hands and knees in front of me while I’m still fully dressed in my suit, makes me even harder. This girl will cave to both praise and depravation, pleasure and pain, ecstasy and destruction. But I’m not done with her yet.

“Good job,” I praise, sliding the popsicle out of her mouth. It’s dripping with her saliva, and I pull my fingers out of her pussy with one fluid motion, sliding the popsicle straight in their place.

She gasps as the ice fills her, and I watch her back arch, her knuckles whiten on the ground. Her heart rate shoots up, and I smile. She’s perfectly responsive, reacting to every little touch, every dark twist. I tap the Snowman with my other hand while moving the popsicle up and down inside her with slow, long pumps until she’s whimpering.

“You like being used,” I say, slapping her ass and then bringing my other hand to her clit, rubbing and squeezing. “Come for me, my sweet little slut.” I feel her breathing ramp up, and her legs begin to tremor.

And then, I pull the popsicle out and jam two fingers back in, plunging hard and deep, ramming my knuckles against her clit with every thrust. I go relentlessly for ten seconds, fifteen seconds, and her gasps turn to cries. Her abdomen begins to shake, and I feel the contractions from inside her as her back arches even more sharply and her pussy slurps and sloshes, fresh juices coating my fingers.

And then, with a long, shuddering sigh, she falls silent, her body coming to an exhausted halt.

I toss the icicle into the sink and run my hands along her body. I feel her relax even deeper, and she’s moaning softly now, her pussy still making little slurping sounds.

I take the blindfold off her, my eyes running over her naked body. She looks high on ecstasy, but this isn’t over yet. Far from it.

I enjoy her for a few seconds, watching the fatigue mix with pleasure in her wide blue eyes that look both less sad and more transparent, wilder. She was determined before, trying not to make any noise, trying to hide how much pleasure I was giving her, and then, when I gagged her, she tried to scream loudenough to go directly against my orders. My dirty little Valentine is a fighter, and she doesn’t know how hard that gets me. But it’s still playtime.

---