Chapter Twenty #2
He sets one knee onto the bed then climbs on, edging toward me with a deliberate slowness that makes me want to close my legs and curl up in a ball. Or arch my back, lift my hips, and give myself to him. I’m not sure which.
The anticipation is the worst thing… or the best thing. I don’t even know how he’s going to examine me, what he’ll find when he does, or what he’ll then do. But what are my chances of getting out of this without more punishments, more pain?
He lowers until he’s lying between my legs, his face mere inches from my sex. And I’m still spread wide, fully open to him.
“You’re gorgeous, and you’re mine,” he murmurs, and I’m wet enough to feel a hint of his breath on me. I bite my lip at the sensation.
I know he intends to ‘check me,’ but I’m still wholly unprepared when his hands press against my inner thighs, pushing my legs up and back, spreading them wider still, opening me.
Then it’s not his fingers I feel, but his tongue.
The sensation makes me gasp, body tensing.
He licks slowly, up through my folds to my clit, and I’m helpless to resist. I can’t squirm away, I can’t push him off, I can’t even close my legs.
Why do you want to, anyway?
He pushes his tongue into my hole, burying his face in me, the coarse sharpness of his stubble prickling against my overly sensitive labia, and I cry out. I’ve been aroused for so long, my body on edge, my expectations set for a clinical examination and punishments, not… this.
When was the last time Alex went down on me? I can’t remember. Too long. Not since our initial lust for each other faded, all too quickly.
It’s back now, and with a vengeance.
His tongue drives my arousal higher, and I’m whimpering before I even realize. His hands grip my legs, bending them further back, keeping me open just as he wants me, and he licks again and again, like a man possessed.
It’s too intense. It’s too much. My body tightens, my breaths getting short, my orgasm approaching with a suddenness I’m not prepared for, and he’s barely touched my clit.
Then he stops, pulling back.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls from between my legs. “If you want to come, you’ll beg for it. You’ll come when I say so, and not before.”
Fuck.
“Alex, please…”
“No.” His tongue returns, but this time he’s licking slower, lapping at my wetness with long, firm strokes as he works his way back up to my clit. My hips twitch involuntarily, and I clench my eyes, trying to resist the sensations.
But it’s impossible.
“Please may I come?” My voice is breathy and high. Shit, that didn’t take long. I caved immediately.
“No.”
Asshole!
He doesn’t back off, but he slows, his tongue still occasionally flicking over my clit, keeping me on the brink.
Then he buries his face in me again and pushes it inside me, fucking me with short, fast licks.
It feels amazing, but too, it’s easier to endure.
I take in a shuddering breath. My orgasm recedes from the very edge of the precipice, but my arousal barely fades.
My body has been subjected to so much for so long, and this edging is just unnecessarily cruel.
Even more so when his tongue finds my clit again, lashing it back and forth then running circles around it. A cry escapes me.
“Omigod! Oh fuck.” It takes a moment to remember I need to beg. “Please, I’m begging. Please let me come.”
“No.”
I begged, just like he wanted, and still he refuses? If I could think, I’d be angry. But I can’t think, I can only feel.
He releases one thigh and slides a finger inside me, and I’m panting for breath, trying to keep control. He hasn’t stopped licking, but now he’s rubbing within, and it’s all I can do to keep myself together.
“Alex…” The word slips out, riding a moan.
“You taste amazing,” he murmurs, and closes his lips around my clit, sucking it into his mouth.
“Oh!” It’s too much. My body jerks, hips trying to escape him, but there’s nowhere to hide. My body is alive with every sensation, every inch of it awake and responding to him. “Fuckgoddamnjesuschrist, pleasemayIcome?” It’s not even words, barely intelligible.
“No.”
I moan my frustration, but he ignores me. His finger finds my g-spot and his tongue pushes into my clit. He sucks hard, and there’s even a graze of his teeth.
And I see stars.
I try to beg, I really do. But I can’t form words. All that escapes is a whimper, high and long, a wail of desperation.
He seems to understand. “Come for me,” he says at last, and it’s a terse command, for his mouth returns to what it was doing before, his fingertip pushing against my g-spot.
There’s not even time to feel relief or gratitude before my body explodes, my orgasm washing through me, lips parting to cry out, but no sound escapes, every muscle locked. My thighs quiver, my back arches, and I’m pulling at the bindings at my wrists if only for the grounding it offers.
Alex doesn’t stop. His tongue fucking pulses against my clit, and he’s ruthless with his finger inside me. He rubs relentlessly on that sensitive area, and a second orgasm follows so close on the first I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.
And I don’t care.
I don’t know how long it lasts, or what he’s doing.
I’m lost in it, the sensations, the pleasure, the release after so long.
And when at last it fades enough for me to think again, I realize I’m not merely wet, I’m soaked.
My arousal covers my thighs, seeps down my ass, and the sheet is damp beneath me.
He licks slowly, almost cleaning me with long strokes of his tongue, and every single one of them sends aftershocks like bolts of lightning straight through my body to my brain. I’m sobbing with each breath, still riding the high, unable to focus on more than the back of my eyelids.
“Good girl,” he murmurs between licks, and those two damn words set off another mini explosion, hips twitching in response.
Why does that phrase affect me so?
Alex eases off, letting his finger slide from inside me, drawing another soft gasp as it slips away.
He rises up, wiping his mouth with his palm, my arousal coating his face.
His eyes find mine, smug, dominant, and possessive.
“There’s my Vicky,” he says. “I love making you squirt all over my hand.”
Shit. I didn’t know I had. I didn’t even know I could.
My cheeks heat, and I bite at my lip, unable to think of a reply. I’m mortified. It doesn’t help that I’m still tied up, still exposed and so very vulnerable.
What’s next? I can’t take anymore.
Alex rises from the bed and stands there, staring down at me for a long moment. It’s instinctive to close my legs, to hide myself, but his voice stops me.
“No. Stay open. You don’t get to hide from me. You’re mine to look at whenever I wish.”
It takes a breath and an effort to spread them again, but I do. The sheets aren’t merely damp, they’re sodden. I’m lying in a pool of my cum. Proof of what he’s done to me.
He gazes at me for a while longer, then without another word, turns and walks away. I blink in confusion, watching him enter the bathroom. A moment later, the shower starts up.
Okay…
What am I supposed to understand from that?
At least I can now close my legs. But for some reason, that doesn’t seem right. I don’t have permission to.
He doesn’t own you, Vicky.
It’s a good message. It’s just not… convincing.
But somewhere between him leaving and the shower eventually turning off, I manage to persuade my legs to close and turn on my side.
I lie in a fetal position, facing away, still trembling in the aftermath of my orgasms. Though I can’t hear his footsteps on the thick carpet, I know when he returns.
And a moment later, he’s by the bed, picking up the duvet and draping it over me.
He climbs in, flicking off the lights before he presses into me from behind, his body naked and slightly damp.
Alex pulls my hips back against him, reaches up and brushes my hair to the side, then cups my breast and settles, giving a contented sigh and going still.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s not intending to fuck me. My ass is safe… for now, at least. Is that relief, disappointment, or both? It’s another few moments before my heart rate begins to slow.
“Aren’t you going to untie me?”
“No.” His breath is warm against the back of my neck.
Right…
A minute passes, then another. He doesn’t move.
“Why not?”
“Because I want you here in the morning.”
I suppose I deserve that.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, with a hint of petulance. “Where would I go?”
“And that’s why you’re tied up, so I don’t have to worry about it.”
I can’t help but pull at the ropes, and they don’t give at all. I can’t even reach the knots, even though I try.
He tweaks my nipple, hard, pulling a gasp from me.
“Quit struggling.”
“It’s uncomfortable.”
His palm covers my breast again. “Tough. Go to sleep.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not tied up and lying in a wet patch.
It’s only moments before his breathing deepens, becoming regular, his body warm against mine. His hand remains on my breast, even as he sleeps.
And I lie in the darkness, awake.
Helpless, naked, and owned.