Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
The Edge of Control
Teyonah
Dominic licked his lips. “You look so sexy naked.”
I didn’t even know what to do with that. How long had it been since a man said that to me?
Too fucking long.
His thumb grazed a coppery stretch mark along my belly.
I tried to move his hand.
He sneered and put it right back, tracing it as if he were following an important Bible scripture. “See this?”
“It’s a stretchmark.”
“It’s vascular artistry. Scar tissue is stronger than unbroken skin—it means you heal better than most. You’re engineered resilience.”
“What?” My laugh came out broken, confused. I didn’t know if he was diagnosing me or devouring me.
He brought his hand up to my breast and then pinched my nipple, making me gasp. “It means you’re built to withstand me. That’s what excites me the most, Mommy.”
I moaned. “Oh.”
He rubbed my nipple. “Your body isn’t fragile. You see stretch marks. I see lightning bolts, proof your body is strong enough to break and still hold my hunger.”
God help me.
I shuddered, my pussy clenching, because he was turning the parts of me I’d hated into something erotic.
For the first time in many years, I felt that I wasn’t broken or ruined.
Maybe I was sexy and dangerous because I could make this gorgeous, muscular man unhinged.
I yearned for him.
I craved more of his touch.
He turned the rose back on and had it on my clit.
“Oh God!”
“So nasty, Mommy.” His voice was raspy, low, and cruel. “Touching yourself in the shower. Moaning while you held that little toy. Acting like a filthy, wet whore.”
“Oh.” Shame and heat collided in my chest.
He moved the rose away from my clit, torturing me by having the vibration tease along my folds. “The only problem is that I’m not sure if you know that you’re only my filthy whore.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know that, Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Then say it. Tell me, Mommy that you’re my filthy whore.”
“I’m your filthy whore.”
“Good job, Mommy.” He pressed the rose directly to my swollen clit, letting the vibration settle until my thighs quivered, and then the bastard pulled it away just as my hips arched for more.
“Damn it.” I trembled.
He sneered at me. “You’re my goddess. My whore. My Mommy. My fucking everything. Do you understand?”
A shiver tore through me. “We should be talking about this—”
“We’re done talking. That conversation ended when you had me cumming all over your hand last night.
” He pressed the toy closer, forcing a sharp moan out of me.
“From now on, you’ll cum when I allow it.
You’ll beg for me when I make you starve.
And when I’m done, when you’re broken and shaking, you’ll still be my filthy sexy whore. ”
Why did those words make my clit throb harder?
Filthy whore.
It should have made me flinch. Instead it cracked something open and poured heat straight into my belly. It was the sound of his voice too—dark, low, uncoiled.
It was also the way he said Mommy in the same breath.
Ro’s voice came back, explaining how dirty talk hit the brain like a drug, how the right curse word in the right moment could spike dopamine and scramble shame into arousal.
“Oh, Mommy.” He pinned the toy against my clit with the barest pressure, enough to spark a moan, then lifted it away and watched me whimper. “You’re my filthy, precious whore. And I’ll starve you until you scream for it.”
“Oh fuck, baby.”
The word whore rolled through me like an electric pulse.
So insane in erotic bliss, I imagined Ro in the corner of the bathroom, wide-eyed and proud, holding her own little toy while she watched Dominic ruin me. Ro with that sexy dark brown skin close to midnight.
Lush and bold.
Hips thick.
Soft, ass big.
Lips parted as the hum of her vibrator echoed between her thighs.
And then—God help me—Cadence flashed into the same thought. Cadence with her lighter skin and huge soft breasts, pressing against Ro’s curves, their bodies slick with steam as they watched Dominic own the shit out of me.
And it turned them on.
Dominic tapped the rose in quick bursts over my clit.
“Oh!”
Then, he hovered it just above, letting the hum taunt me without touching.
“Dominic, please.”
“Keep begging.”
“Please touch me. Please fuck me.”
“Say sorry for not coming back down last night.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy should have come back down.”
“You think I got any sleep?”
“N-no.”
“All I thought about was these sexy breasts.”
“Oh, baby. I’m sorry. Maybe. . .” I shivered. “Mommy, can give you some pussy to feel better.”
“Nice try.” He cruelly teased me by holding the rose just off-center, grazing the edges of my clit so that I had to grind into it to feel more.
“Oh. Oh.”
“My nasty, filthy, sexy whore.” He gave me one sharp pulse of vibration against the tip of my clit.
I jolted in shock. “Fuck!”
Then, he cruelly dragged it down the seam of my folds, denying me the pressure I needed.
“Ohhhhhh.” My body buzzed uncontrollably.
It was insane what he was doing to me.
Every time the rose touched and left, every time he circled instead of pressed, my body went somewhere I didn’t even know existed.
My clit pulsed like it had its own heartbeat. This all stopped feeling like a shower, like an erotic fight, with a man and a toy.
It became trembling heat and blissful weightlessness as if the steam were lifting me right off the tile.
I was floating.
Floating in some filthy heaven where shame dissolved and all I could do was breathe and moan.
“Oh my God. . .” My head lolled back against the tile.
My mouth hung open. “Ohhh.”
The sound that came out of me wasn’t even a moan anymore—it was something broken and grateful, a noise I didn’t know I could make.
God, this was a high.
A fever dream.
My nipples ached.
My thighs shook so hard I thought they’d give out.
The world narrowed to his hands, the hum of the rose, and my body trying to chase a release it couldn’t quite catch.
I reached for him without thinking, fingers fumbling at his soaked belt, trying to free his cock because I needed him, needed skin instead of silicone, needed him to fill me.
But he caught my wrists and pushed them back against the tile.
“No.” A growl low in his throat. “You had your chance last night—”
“Baby, I’m sorry—”
“I know you are. Still, you don’t touch. You don’t take. You float where I keep you until I say.”
The denial hit me harder than the toy itself, and a helpless sound tore out of my throat as the vibration kissed my clit again, just enough to keep me trembling in that bright, dizzy place where I couldn’t tell if I was about to come or cry.
Then, the bastard took it away.
“I feel—” I broke off with a sharp gasp as another tremor crawled up my thighs. “Dominic. . .God, I feel high. Like I’m floating. Why do I feel like this?”
He didn’t even blink. “Because I’m keeping you on the edge.
Every time I hold you back, your pelvic floor contracts and traps blood in the erectile tissue of your vagina.
Your clitoral bulbs are engorged; the nerve endings in your vestibular region are hyper-sensitized.
Dopamine spikes, prolactin dips, oxytocin floods, and your vagus nerve tricks your brain into thinking it’s getting a narcotic. ”
I stared at him, blinking steam out of my eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, wicked and breathless. “Baby, I have no idea what the hell you just said.”
He wickedly grinned, slow and dark, still holding me at the edge. “All it means, Mommy, is that I’ve hacked your body chemistry. Your pussy’s high, your brain’s high, and I’m the one controlling the dose. Say thank you.”
“T-thank you.” My laugh turned into a moan. “Oh God. . .”
“That’s right.” His grin sharpened. “Science, Mommy. You’re my experiment, and you love it because you’re my filthy whore.”
“I do.”
His words, a deft combination of filthy and scientific, flowed into my ears like he was pouring warm honey into my brain.
“God. . .thank you,” I repeated, and my voice was a whisper, barely discernible over the running water and the hum of the rose.
He rewarded my words with a slow, taunting circle of the rose over my pulsing clit.
“Oh!”
The stimulation was more intense this time, more prolonged.
My fingers clenched against the cool tile of the shower wall, my knuckles whitening as I fought to keep my moans from turning into screams.
And my fever dream rose, darkening and twisting into something forbidden.
Ro and Cadence reappeared within the steam while Dominic played with my nipples and kept the rose against my clit, transforming my mind into a delirious playground.
Ro’s dark skin against Cadence’s pale curves. Big breasts rubbing up and down against each other. Their nipples hardening. Their hands sliding along their wet pussies.
Thighs rubbing.
The filthy wet sounds their bodies made between their desperate moans.
Two sexy women moving against each other, while watching Dominic play with my pussy.
My arousal dripped down my thighs.
My pulse climbed.
I didn’t know if I was gasping from the toy or from my own filthy imagination, but I couldn’t stop.
Dominic had made me so far gone that shame and fantasy had fused, and every breath felt like an edge.
Then, he took the toy away and pinched my nipple hard. “Beg.”
I shivered. “You are a very bad boy.”
He chuckled low, and the sound was a delicious shiver down my spine. “Bad? No, Mommy. A bad boy would never make you this high.”
I had nothing to say because he was fucking right. I felt like I had inhaled two joints and drunk a shot of tequila.
“Beg.”
“Please, Dominic.”
“That’s right. Say it softer.”
“Dominic. . .please. I want you to make me cum.”
“You’re floating because of me. High because of me. When you finally cum, it won’t just be an orgasm, it’ll be a collapse—my science, my filth, my worship all at once.”
“Oh God.”
“Beg for your dose, Mommy. Beg for the experiment to end.”
“P-please. . .”