Chapter Twenty-Two • Worship • Lillith #2
He releases my wrists. “You’re to keep your hands right there. If I was more prepared, I would have brought my own bindings, but since I’m not, you’re going to be a good girl and stay exactly where I put you. Understood?”
“Yes,” I say.
“And I’m going to need you to pay me a little more respect, Lillith. Yes, what?”
I fumble a little on the uptake before clumsily mumbling out, “Yes, Sir?”
He lets out a little exhale, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones when his eyes close and he presses his fingers into the meat of my thighs. “Oh, that sounds very lovely coming out of your pretty little mouth, Lillith.”
With very little warning, he hooks one of my knees over his shoulder.
I had been so distracted by our short slip into negotiations that I’d honestly forgotten that I was bare and soaking before him.
He looks me in the eye for just a few seconds before finally letting his gaze drift to where he has me spread open before him.
In a moment of panic I drop my hands between my legs, feeling the need to hide myself from him. His eyes immediately flash up to mine, and without a single scolding remark, he reaches up and pinches my nipple between his thumb and fore finger with punishing force.
I let out a pained gasp and he gives that same breast a sharp smack before pinching that same nipple again.
“Hands, Lillith. Where do they go?”
I quickly put them back at my sides, gripping the sofa cushion so I don’t forget to keep them there again. He rewards me by smoothing his thumb gently over the bruised peak of my breast. “Good girl,” he says. “I better not see you trying to hide your beautiful pussy from me again. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I gasp.
He lets out a satisfied hum as he looks at me again. He spreads my thighs out farther and braces his thumbs on my outer labia, applying pressure until I feel my folds part—hear the wet sound of my inner lips opening under his touch.
He dips the tips of his middle and ring fingers inside of my entrance, testing and stretching me, but only going so far as using the first knuckle.
“This is the prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen,” he says with unbridled adoration. “I can’t wait to fucking ruin it.”
I whimper as I watch his fingers go in and out so slowly. And never too far past the first knuckle. I can already feel my inner walls try to clench around something that isn’t there. “M-more,” I beg.
“Is that how good girls ask?”
“M-more, please, Sir.”
“That is much better, Little Bird,” he says with a casual smile.
“But you seem to be forgetting that you are being punished right now. And that this experience isn’t for you.
This is for me. This is my reward for all of the sleepless nights, and all of the uncertainty, and all of the ways I’ve had to want you over these past few weeks.
All because you refused to take me at my word. ”
I meet his eyes as he swirls his fingers in my opening. My clit begs for stimulation and it takes everything in my power not to move my hands—not to pleasure myself in the way I know works best. “I’m sorry,” I whimper.
“I know you are. And you will be much more sorry before I let you come. In fact—I may not even let you come tonight if I don’t feel you’re contrite enough,” he says. His two-toned eyes shine, dark as scrying mirrors, making my whole body hot and cold at the same time.
“No, please let me come,” I say. “Please, please, please?”
“I don’t think you’re sorry enough yet,” he says.
“H-how can I prove it?” I ask.
“More truth, Lillith. I think that’s more than fair, don’t you?”
“What do you want to know?” I ask as he inches his fingers in just slightly more. “I’ll answer anything.”
“I think that’s too easy, sweetheart,” he says. “Why don’t you tell me things you think I ought to know? Maybe with enough honesty you can earn your right to come.”
I wrack my brain trying to think of something good enough to earn his favor. When I don’t speak for too long, he clicks his tongue impatiently.
“Secrets, Lillith. You know all of mine, and that’s not fair. If you want these fingers buried inside you, you better start talking.”
I whimper out, “I—I have been following your Insta for a long time. I always like the pictures of your hands best. I a-always think they’re beautiful.”
“That is so sweet,” he says, his tone ominously saccharine as his fingers retreat.
I look at him and he lifts an expectant eyebrow. Like he knows I’m editing myself. And I am. I feel my face heat with my flush as I blurt out. “I’ve i-imagined you—your fingers. When I touch myself I think of your fingers inside of me.”
“That is more like it,” he almost growls, sliding his fingers deeper into me, I feel the ridges of his second knuckles catch on my opening and whimper. “What else?” he presses.
He starts to rhythmically fuck me with his fingers, inserting as much of them as I’ve earned.
I try to think around the pleasure coiling in my lower belly.
It’s almost impossible. “I got wet that day—in the kitchen, when you wrapped your hand around my throat and blood choked me. I wanted more of it. I want more of it now.” My voice cracks on the final word as he finally slips his fingers all the way inside me.
He spreads them open and stretches me more before brushing his fingertips against the swell of my g-spot.
“Oh—fuck,” I whimper, dropping my head back. “Oh gods.”
“You feel so good—your greedy little pussy gripping onto my fingers like this. I can’t wait to see how it feels to have my cock buried inside you,” he says, his voice impossibly low.
“Please,” I whine. “Damien, please fuck me.”
“Not today,” he says, getting back onto his knees and forcing the angle of his fingers deeper as my knee hooked over his shoulder causes a change in my position. Instead of sitting upright, I’m sort of half-lying down, the upper part of my back curving at the bottom of the backrest.
He pistons his fingers into me, kicking up the pace. “But since you asked me so nicely, I’ll give you a little bit more friction,” he says.
I want so much to touch him—to touch myself. But I force myself to keep my arms locked at my sides. It’s almost as good as being bound—this sort of psychological bondage—these rules I can’t break.