Chapter 20
I want you to burn for hours.
Hours. Hours of this? How…how can she possibly expect me not to come? I whimper, and she reminds me of what we discussed, but doesn’t slow her pace or ease her pressure.
“You know exactly what I expect of you, if you’re going to be a good boy like you promised. What are you going to tell me if you get close?”
“I’ll say ‘gonna come,’ Ma’am.”
“That’s right. And I know you aren’t about to when we’ve just gotten started, are you? There’s no way you blow for all your women this fast, do you?”
“No…Ma’am.”
“Good. That would be pathetic. But then again, I bet none of them worked you over like this, did they? They probably didn’t know what a filthy little fucktoy you truly are.”
A graze of her sharp fingernail under my head shocks me and pushes me too close to the edge. “Gonna come!”
She stops immediately, every pleasurable sensation gone, and leaves me shaking, abs tight, fighting not to come. When I relax, if I expected a moment’s reprieve, I was wrong.
“Thank you for being a good boy for me and telling me before you came,” she purrs, picking up at the same intensity she left off with.
I’m already closer to coming than my previous start point, and as the reality of my situation sinks in, she notices.
“You can tell now, can’t you, solnyshko?
It felt almost impossible not to come just now, didn’t it?
But truly, that was as easy as you’ll have it all night. ”
No, no, no…
“Yes, and I’ll be punishing you for speaking out of turn. Even if I don’t have any plans to spank you tonight, I always remember to dole out my punishments at some point.”
Shit, I didn’t even realize I said that out loud. Closing my eyes, I pray that will somehow help me focus on anything except how good her hand feels on me. Hockey stats, saggy old man balls…“Fuck, gonna come!”
My eyes pop open as Mila squeezes just beneath my head, pushing me back from the edge. “You were close. Watch yourself. If you come before I tell you to, and you ruin my playtime tonight, that’ll make you a very bad boy. And you can’t begin to imagine what I do to bad boys.”
Of course I was fucking close. Just as I got into a rhythm of imagining the old guys at the gym while thinking about stats from my first year of junior hockey, Mila fucking deep-throated me out of nowhere.
“I want your eyes on me. If I didn’t want you to see what I’m doing, I’d blindfold you. But I got all dressed up for you, and you’re going to watch.”
Fuck me, watching is so much worse. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, black braid sleek as always, long down her back and making her look like the warrior princess she is.
Her eyeliner is thicker today, long lashes framing her bright-blue eyes that haven’t left mine as she continues to tease me with her mouth.
“Do you wish this was my pussy?”
Yes? No? I don’t know…“Gonna come!”
We continue for so long that she’s allowed me to close my eyes, and my head has long since fallen back on the bed.
I don’t think I could lift my neck, even if she ordered me to.
My stamina has waned, and it feels like it only takes five strokes of her hand or her mouth now to force me to croak out my warning.
I haven’t stopped shaking for the last three rounds, and my thoughts are few and far between.
She shows no signs of stopping, though, and I know whenever she allows my release, it’ll be cataclysmic.
“Gonna come!”
“Good boy,” she soothes, scratching my scalp and leaving my dick alone for a moment. “You’re shaking, solnyshko. Does anything cramp or hurt? What color are you?”
I shake my head. “Green, Ma’am.”
When she touches me again, it’s not her hand or her mouth, it’s something else. Something soft and…“Gonna come!”
“I’m disappointed in you, Thatcher. Have you never felt a masturbator before?”
Forcing my head up, I can barely see what she’s holding through the sweat dripping into my eyes, stinging and adding to the cacophony of sensations I’m struggling to endure. I barely shake my head, unable to answer, but she demands I vocalize.
“What’s your color?”
What is my color? I feel fine, physically.
Covered in sweat, sure. Muscles sore from tensing them, although I’ve mostly lost that ability during the last few rounds, with the uncontrollable shaking taking over.
Mentally, I’m not sure how much more I can take, but I want to be good for her. I can do this.
“Green, Ma’am.”
“Very well. If you’ve never experienced one of these, I suppose it can be overwhelming.”
She slowly teases me with the toy again, just the tip of my dick in and out of something tight and wet. I squint to see what she’s holding, and all I can make out is a tube with a hole in it…
“I had this custom made, and you’re the first one to ever experience it.”
Fuck, her pace is maddening, barely teasing me, then going all the way to the hilt with no rhyme or reason to her rhythm. When she follows a pattern, I can at least brace myself.
“This goes by many names. Masturbator, pocket pussy, stroker…it’s modeled after me. That was quite the experience, if you can imagine.”
With every scrap of energy left in my body, I try to see what she’s talking about. I’ve definitely never used anything like this, and it’s modeled on her…oh. Oh. The tube is flesh colored, and the opening looks like…
“Gonna come!” My whine is anguished and pathetic to my own ears, and I tense every muscle to stay away from my climax. That’s the closest I’ve been, and I almost couldn’t hold back once I decided what my dick was inside.
“Good boy,” Mila coos, rubbing my shaking thighs and soothing me. “You figured it out quickly, such a smart boy. It’s a custom mold of my vagina, made just for me to torture my favorite toys with. Do you like it?”
“Yes, ungh. Yes, Ma’am.” I barely had a minute’s reprieve before she started on me again with fast, deep, relentless strokes.
“Do you think it feels as good as the real thing? I’m assuming it’s not as hot and wet as I am—”
“Gonna come!”
Her dark laugh is a warning shot down my spine, and she grazes my balls with her sharp fingernails before continuing almost immediately with lighter teasing strokes. “So it is just as good, then? You don’t even need my real pussy anymore?”
“No, Ma’am! It’s not…ugh, it’s not as warm or wet, but it feels like you. Gonna come!”
My breaks are shorter and shorter, and I’m barely lasting for a few touches of her hand, mouth, or toy before I’m forced to warn her of my impending release.
“You’ve done so well for me tonight. Such a good boy. I think I’ll reward you. It’s almost time for you to come. Where would you like to? In the toy or all over me?”
Oh fuck. Just pick one. I can barely even think of my own name right now, let alone make a decision with three amazing options…shit. “Uhh, in the toy. Please. Please, please let me come, Ma’am. I can’t take any more.”
“Hmm. I think you can take much more. And you will for me soon. But very well. You have permission to come.”
Hearing those sweet words is all I need, and I’m off, soaring into space and imploding in on myself like a dying star.
I’ve never felt anything like this. A release of tension I’ve held in my body for hours, followed by blinding pleasure and warm static in my brain.
If I thought I was floating before, it’s nothing compared to this.
“Solnyshko, it’s okay. You did so well for me. I’m very, very proud of you.” Mila’s voice sounds far away, but I try to swim toward her through my gooey consciousness. When I finally make it to her, my arms and legs have been freed, but I’m still sitting in my chair.
“Thatcher, look at me. Can you see me?” She sounds concerned, and I don’t understand why, until it hits me all at once.
Shaking like a leaf, I do as she says and raise my head to look into her beautiful blue eyes.
She looks ready to do anything I need, and I swear her gaze is full…
I try to speak but burst into tears instead, sobs wracking my body as I try to figure out what I’m feeling. All I can do is nod.
“Okay, good. Can I touch you?”
Of course you can touch me, I try to say. Please, always touch me. Instead, I just nod again.
“Alright. We’re going to walk to the bathroom.
Does that sound good? I’ve already drawn us a bath, and the jets are on.
” Once I give one more weak nod, she puts one of my arms around her shoulders and helps me stand.
A smaller woman wouldn’t be able to help me like this, but not my Mila.
She’s plenty strong enough to help me when I need it.
Our bath is quiet, and she murmurs soothing nonsense as she rubs each of my sore muscles, feeds me, and towels me off after the water’s cooled.
I let her lead me to a bed with no resistance, finally feeling relaxed enough that I have no doubt I’m about to pass out into a deep sleep.
Between all the pleasure she gave me tonight and all the ways she pushed me, I’ve felt what seems like every emotion in the book.
But as she turns out the light and slides into bed with me, I wonder if there might just be a few more waiting inside me, less deeply buried than ever before.