Page 28 of Revenge
I drag my tongue up and down her slit. I’m sloppier this time because it’s hard to focus with blue balls.
No matter, she’s already desperate. The moment my mouth connects with her, she tightens her ass and pushes into me, greedy for her release.
“You have no say in this,” I tell her. “You chose to show your body–the body I now own–to my men. This is the punishment I’ve chosen for you.”
“I…don’t even understand it,” she complains.
I chuckle against her soft flesh then nip her labia. “Your body does, though, doesn’t it?”
“My body…” she pants. “My body wants…”
“I know what your body wants, amore. I can give you what you desire.”
“No,” she says. “No, no, no, no.” Her needy tone doesn’t match the words, but, of course, I honor her words.
Eventually, she will cave to me.
Instead, I continue with my slow, deliberate torture, bringing her to the brink of orgasm and back away again.
She lets out a dry sob when I climb off the bed. “You’re a horrible person.”
“I can be quite cruel,” I agree. “You’d be wise to stay on my good side.” I give her a cool smile. “And believe me, darling. This was my good side.”
Dahlia
Antonio tortures me for hours with his tongue, driving me nearly insane. Never letting me actually reach a climax.
Finally, when I beg him for mercy, he releases my wrists from the belt.
I should be thrilled to have the use of my arms and hands back, but I get pins and needles from the blood rushing back to them and worse–much worse–is the fact that Antonio is getting dressed.
Like he’s finished with me.
Like he’s not going to give me the satisfaction I need.
I waste no time. As soon as I have feeling back in my hands, I roll to my belly with my hand tucked between my legs. My hips buck against the firm contact–the pressure I’d been desperate for.
The relief is so great that I moan out loud as my internal muscles clench and lift. A giant star blooms and bursts behind my eyes. I undulate my fingers and bring on a second smaller contraction, but before I’m finished, Antonio rolls me to my back.
He stares down at me, his golden eyes dark and glittering. “Did I say you could come?”
My brain doesn’t even process what he’s saying. I’m dizzy from my release. Lost in outer space. I blink up at him, still moving my fingers to eke out more aftershocks.
He catches my wrist and replaces my fingers with his. “This pussy belongs to me, remember?”
He moves his fingers expertly, finding the exact place I need to bring on another full orgasm.
I cry out with the release, arching up from the bed, completely at his mercy. When I blink open my eyes, I find Antonio watching me intently as he continues to slowly move his fingers.
“I didn’t give you permission to come.”
“Ahhhh.” I’m mindless. Brainless. I have zero control over my body. Certainly no ability to refuse when he screws one thick finger inside me.
I groan because it feels so good. So right. I’ve used my own fingers between my legs in the privacy of my bedroom since I was a child, but this–this sensation, like his tongue–is completely beyond any pleasure I was able to give myself.
I’m shocked by how wet I am, my arousal soaking his finger, making a slick sound as he pushes it in and out. He gets deeper, bumping my inner wall, and I shriek at the sensation–a sudden loss of control–a catapulting over the edge into still more pleasure. I gush more liquid. He doesn’t relent, he keeps pumping his finger, then adds a second one, making me scream and shake in the throes of incredible release. Tears stream down my face.
“Please,” I beg because I can’t take any more. He’s been torturing me for hours now, and the sensations are too much. I’m a rag doll. Boneless. Barely capable of putting together the thought to speak. “Please, Antonio. Have mercy.”