Chapter 6 #2
What’s next?
Punishment. Pain. A small thrill jolts through me right before I realize how seriously disturbing that is. My pussy clenches and tightens around the ice as I try to rationalize the sick, demented part of me that’s currently aroused. I hate myself for wanting what I should despise.
The bed dips again but this time he climbs over my torso, his hard, muscular thighs pressing on either side of my rib cage.
And his cock lands thick and heavy between my breasts.
A strangled sound falls from my lips.
Punishment?
His cock?
Fear commingles with desire. My body tenses in anticipation of what is to come—my punishment—and it pushes the spear of ice out of me.
Don’t make a sound.
Is there punishment for that too?
Don’t move.
He’s facing your head. He won’t see it. And if he can’t see it, you can’t be punished for that too.
But then why do I secretly want him to?
His peppermint breath is back against my lips. A brush of his mouth against mine as he chuckles.
His hands find my breasts. They hold the sides and push them together creating a tunnel for his cock to slide through.
He shifts his hips and begins to slowly fuck my cleavage. My nipples harden, the clamps still there, so that the sensitive buds swell and increase the pressure tugging on them.
“You like that, you dirty bella,” he groans with another fuck in, the clamps tugging and that tug like a bolt of lightning straight to my pussy with each and every push.
“What I’d give to make you take my cock all the way to the back of your throat.
Feel your wet tongue on my tip and watch your cheeks hollow out as you suck me dry. ”
Saliva pools in my mouth at his words, my tongue darting out to lick my lips in reflex.
His chuckle again, followed by the tensing of his thighs as he thrusts back and forth again.
“Ah, you want that, no? For me to fuck those pretty lips of yours?” He groans and fucks his cock forward again.
“Me too, but I don’t quite trust that you won’t use those teeth of yours just yet. I like bite, but not like that.”
“Aarrgh.” My cry overtakes his groan.
His purposeful tug on the clamps have them off my nipples and the sudden release of pressure and the searing sting as blood returns is more than my body can handle. My hips buck and pussy clenches as it begs for the release that action just reinvigorated.
His weight on my torso forces me to absorb the oddly pleasurable pain that tears through me.
“Please. Oh, God please. Let me come.” The words are out before I can stop them. My mind’s so hazy with pleasure and need and want, I don’t think to stifle it until it’s too late.
Until he knows just how much my body wants more of it.
“You like that, no?” he whispers, his weight shifting so his mouth barely brushes against mine when he speaks.
“You see, I need to punish you.” He traces his tongue over the seal of my lips.
“I need to have my cock buried so fucking deep in that beautiful cunt of yours that when I punish you, it’ll clench so fucking tight around me I’ll have no choice but to come. ”
The mattress dips again.
The punishment. Is it coming now? Because his cock between my breasts was not a punishment. I’m ashamed to say it was a goddamn turn-on.
The size of that? In me? How would that be punishment?
And from one breath to the next his fingers enter me hard and fast. It’s unexpected. Invasive. The startled cry is muffled on my lips.
His cock is still between my breasts so his fingers there are unexpected. It’s a weird angle for him but doable.
They are his fingers though, right?
The thought comes and goes just as quickly because his voice owns my attention.
“Bella, bella, bella,” he says like a disapproving mentor. “I will own this. Your pussy, your orgasm, and every ache, breath, and moan in between. Yes?”
I stutter out, “Y-y-es.” His fingers are relentless. Whereas before they were slow at first and then worked their way faster, this time he shows me no mercy. This time, he fucks me hard and nonstop. This time, he drives my body into a frenzy I don’t understand.
The room fills with our panting breaths, the slick sound of wet flesh being manipulated. His soft grunts of effort. My pleasured moans as the friction heats what was ice-cold moments ago.
Liquid warmth begins to spread through my body. So many unique sensations all at once. My throbbing nipples. The inimitable scent of maleness as his cock thrusts closer to my face. The weight of his body caging my hips in.
He’s pushing for me to reach for an incredible orgasm, one I fear will rip me apart.
Pray will rip me apart.
My pleas are incoherent as my body floats in that suspended state before I crash over the edge into bliss. My head angles back. My lips fall lax. My breath hitches and mind stutters over thoughts as I try to grab and let them go all at once.
This shouldn’t feel so good. Shouldn’t feel so amazing.
The orgasm is almost there.
The tremors of sensation slowly escalate toward a full-blown earthquake.
Almost there—
He withdraws his fingers. My lips fly open to protest and is met with his broad crest of his cock.
I’m so shocked—spiraling . . . begging for a release he just denied me—the one my body desperately craves—that it takes a second to register what just happened. And before I even can, he’s fucking my mouth.
The first stroke is fast and hard and hits the back of my throat. I gag, coughing over its size. He pulls is back out so the tip rests on my lips.
The guttural groan he emits only adds pressure to the denied orgasm weighing heavily between my thighs. I’m turned on, desperate to come, and his musky taste only adds frenzy to my fire.
“No.” I shake my head from side to side but the protest is half-hearted and fueled by the buzz that’s humming beneath my skin.
“Yes,” he says and thrusts his cock back in, forcing me to take all I can fit. He hits the back of my throat, then he pulls back out again before synapses fire and I realize, for the briefest of seconds, I have a tiny bit of power in this situation.
Blindfolded and restrained, but that groan tells me he’s giving in to his own pleasure.
Talk about a mindfuck.
I can use this to my advantage. I can—
He shifts off me again. Knee over my chest. The crest of his cock rubbing over my pebbled nipple.
Stop.
Come back.
Please release this burning ache that’s eating me whole.
Punishment.
That’s what this is. He’s denying me my orgasm.
Bring back the wax. The ice. Anything so long as I can come again.
Finish the fucking job.
But I catch myself before the words tumble out. A demand would be giving him exactly what he wants—exactly what I want—but under his terms. It would be handing back to him what little control I’ve found.
He has enough of an upper hand in this whole situation and I need to keep something. For what?
“What—” are you doing to my wrist? I finish the question as a thought while his fingers mess with something.
Please don’t make it tighter.
His labored breathing fills the room.
Please don’t. My arm falls to the bed and my joints weep in relief to have a respite from the constant tension.
Before I can think through the relief, his fingers grip my wrist like a vise. A silent reminder of how strong, how powerful he is.
And how powerless I am.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growls, the quiet warning from where he stands at the side of the bed.
He takes my right arm, crosses it over my body to the opposite side of the headboard from where it was. My hands are now near each other but my legs still spread apart on the bed as they were.