40. Emma #2
He pulled his mouth away just long enough to speak.
"Come for me, Emma. Now."
His lips sealed around my clit again, fingers driving deep, and I broke apart.
The orgasm crashed through me like a wave breaking against rocks—violent and overwhelming. I screamed his name—his title—something wordless and broken. The suspension held me steady even as I shook, cradling me through every pulse, every spasm.
He didn't stop.
His mouth stayed on me, gentling now, drawing out every last tremor.
Only then did he slide out from beneath me.
I heard him rise. Felt him move.
"Good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of my spine. "But we're not done yet."
I was still trembling—aftershocks rippling through me, my mind floating somewhere distant and soft. The world had gone hazy at the edges, sounds muffled, sensations blurred.
Then I heard it.
A low, mechanical hum.
Buzzing.
"Do you know what this is?" Damien's voice was silk and sin.
I couldn't see. Couldn't move. Could only hang there, suspended and helpless, as the buzzing closed in.
"Yes, Master."
"Good." Something cool and smooth pressed against my entrance. "Then you know what's coming."
He didn't give me time to prepare.
The toy slid inside me in one slow, relentless push. I gasped at the intrusion—my body still sensitive, still swollen from his mouth—stretching around the thickness of it.
"That's it. Take it all."
The vibrations hummed deep inside me, a low, steady pulse.
Then he adjusted the angle.
And I felt it.
The little tail—a curved extension I hadn't anticipated—nestled perfectly against my clit.
"Oh god—"
"Wrong name," he said darkly.
The vibrations against my clit were devastating. Light at first—a teasing flutter that made my hips jerk in the rope.
The toy inside me pulsed in counterpoint, waves of sensation rolling through me from the inside out.
"Too much?" he asked, though his voice said he already knew the answer.
"I—I don't—"
He clicked something, and the intensity increased.
I screamed.
"Remember your safewords, love," he chuckled.
The vibrations sharpened, the tail pressing harder against my swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. Every nerve ending was already raw from the orgasm he'd just wrung from me—and now this.
This merciless, mechanical pressure that wouldn't let up. Wouldn't give me a moment to breathe.
"Breathe," he said—steady, controlled. "What are your words?"
"Mercy," I gasped—wrecked, overwhelmed. "Salvation—"
"Good girl. Now stay with me."
"You're clenching so hard," Damien observed, his hand smoothing over the curve of my ass. "I can see it. Your body is trying to pull it deeper."
I whimpered, unable to form words.
"Does this feel good?" he asked, his voice softening for just a moment.
Did it feel good?
It felt like I was being torn apart and remade all at once. It felt like too much and not nearly enough. It felt like drowning and flying and burning alive.
"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, Master. Please don't stop."
He chuckled. "Wasn't planning on it."
Another click. Another level.
My body bowed in the ropes, spine arching impossibly deeper as the vibrations intensified. The tail against my clit was ruthless now—tight, buzzing circles that had me hurtling toward the edge with terrifying speed.
"You're going to come again," Damien said. It wasn't a question. "I can see it building. The way your thighs are shaking. The way you're dripping around the toy."
"Please," I sobbed. "Please, Master, I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His palm steadied my hip. "And you will. As many times as I want."
The pressure crested—unbearable, blinding—
"But not yet."
A broken sound tore from my throat. I was balanced on a knife's edge, every muscle screaming.
"Hold it," he said. "Show me how good you can be."
Tears streamed down my cheeks, my toes curled against nothing. The toy hummed relentlessly, the tail buzzing against my clit in a rhythm that felt designed to destroy me.
"Master—please—I'm going to—I can't—"
His hand cracked against my ass.
The sharp sting jolted through me. I gasped, the sensation grounding me just enough to pull back from the edge.
"Better," he said approvingly. "Again. Hold it."
Another slap. Another burst of clarity.
But the vibrations didn't stop. If anything, they seemed to intensify—or maybe I was just losing my grip on reality, my body betraying me one tremor at a time.
"Please," I begged, voice cracking. "Please, Master, I'll do anything—"
"Anything?" I heard the smile in his voice.
"Anything."
He leaned close, his lips brushing my ear.
"Then come."
He clicked the vibrator to its highest setting.
I screamed until my throat went raw, the toy pulsing inside me as the tail wrung every last drop of pleasure from my shattered nerves.
And still it didn't stop.
The vibrations kept going—kept building—and I realized with dawning horror and ecstasy that I was coming again. Or still. I couldn't tell.
The pleasure had become one continuous wave, cresting and crashing again and again until I couldn't remember what it felt like not to be drowning in it.
"That's it," Damien's voice cut through the roar. "Let go."
I shattered.
Again.
And again.
"You're so beautiful when you come, Emma."
He said it every time.
The vibrations lowered to a steady, maddening pulse that kept me hovering on the edge without pushing me over.
A whimper escaped me along with a tear.
"Shh," Damien soothed, his footsteps circling.
He appeared in front of me, muscles gleaming in the low light, cock straining thick and hard before my face.
"One thing before we continue," he said, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Your safe words won't work with my cock down your throat. So if you truly need me to stop—" he dropped to my level, eyes meeting mine, "—you bite. Teeth. Understand?"
I tried to nod.
"Words, Emma. This is important."
"I understand, Master. Teeth if I need you to stop."
His grin grew wide, fire sparking in his eyes.
"Open."
I obeyed without thought, lips parting, tongue sliding out in invitation.
"So eager," he groaned, both hands holding my skull in place as he slid himself inside. "So fucking perfect."
The first taste of him hit my tongue—salt and musk and Damien—and I moaned around him, the sound vibrating up his length.
His hips jerked.
"Fuck." The word punched out of him. "Do that again."
He slid deeper, and I moaned, letting the vibrations from my throat travel up his shaft. I watched through my lashes as his head fell back, tendons straining in his neck.
Then he moved.
Shallow thrusts at first. Controlled. Letting me adjust to the angle, to the stretch of him filling my throat.
Then deeper.
His grip on my head tightened, my body gliding back and forward through the air as he slid balls deep down my throat. I gagged—couldn't help it—but he didn't stop. Just held himself there.
"You're mine," he growled, cock pulsing in my mouth.
He eased back a fraction before plunging back in.
"Breathe through your nose," he instructed, voice strained. "That's it. Good fucking girl."
He withdrew with a snap of his hips, letting me gasp, letting me catch one desperate breath.
"Teeth, Emma," he ground out. "Remember to use your teeth."
I didn't.
He slammed back in, pain blinding as I gagged.
But still no teeth.
I wasn't a fucking quitter.
The vibrator pulsed inside me—relentless, inescapable. The pressure was building again, faster this time.
I tried to speak around him, tried to beg, but all that came out was a garbled moan that made him shudder.
"What was that?" he asked, thrusting harder. "I couldn't hear you."
Tears streamed down my face.
I was so close—so fucking close—the vibrations driving me higher, his cock filling my throat as I swayed in the ropes.
I moaned, louder now. Desperate.
The sound choked and broken around his thickness.
"Still can't hear you, love." His rhythm increased, hips snapping faster. "You'll have to speak up."
I sobbed around him, my body convulsing.
He pulled out.
Completely. Swiftly. Leaving my mouth empty and aching.
"PLEASE!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and ragged and utterly wrecked. "PLEASE, MASTER, LET ME COME! PLEASE!"
He stepped back.
My vision blurred with tears, but I forced myself to focus—to find him.
He stood before me, chest heaving, one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly. His gaze was black—pupils blown wide enough to swallow the color from his eyes. His mouth hung open, lips wet, breath ripping from him in wrecked gasps.
He looked like a god.
Watching his creation burn.
"Come for me, Emma," he commanded, his voice cracked and rough.
I screamed.
"Again," Damien growled, his hand moving faster on his shaft. "Come again."
I did.
Couldn't stop.
My vision blurring white.
He stroked himself, abs clenched.
"Again," he demanded, voice breaking. "One more. Give me one more."
Another scream tore from me.
I watched through blurred vision as his whole body went rigid—watched his mouth drop open in a silent cry—watched the first pulse of his release spill over his fist, painting his stomach, his chest.
"Emma—" My name a vow. A curse. "Fuck—Emma—"
He stroked himself through it, milking every drop, his gaze never leaving mine even as his body shook apart.
And I hung there, suspended between heaven and earth, watching the man I loved come undone.
Because of me.
For me.
With me.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
He stood—still hard—and slid himself into my mouth.
"Clean it," he demanded.
I circled my tongue, salt and him coating my lips. A groan tore from him as I watched through my lashes.
"You're such a fucking good—"
His body shuddered.
"Girl."
I sucked harder.
He moved then, hands fisting in my hair.
Damien Holt fucked my mouth, forcing his cum down my throat.
His body shook, composure cracking.
He pulled away with a rough breath.
"No… no." He muttered it almost to himself. "Not yet."
He moved again—not the slow, measured steps of a man coming down, but the urgent, heavy footfalls of a man who wasn't finished.
Who wasn't even close to finished.
He was behind me in seconds.
"Damien—"
"Master," he snarled, and then he was inside me.
No warning. No grace. Just the brutal, devastating stretch of him sliding in alongside the vibrator—filling me so completely I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but scream.
"Fuck—so tight—" His voice was wrecked, animalistic. "The toy—I can feel it—fuck, Emma—"
He stilled, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against my back.
"Is this okay?" he gritted out, the words sounding like they cost him everything. "Tell me you want this."
Want it?
I wanted it more than my next breath. More than oxygen. More than sanity.
"Yes," I sobbed. "God, yes. Please, Master. Please fuck me."
"Thank fuck," he groaned.
"One more check," he bit out, voice tight with restraint. "Any pain that's wrong?"
"No," I cried. "Just—full. Perfect."
"Good. Then take it."
He didn't wait any longer.
His hips slammed into me, driving deep, the vibrator buzzing between us as he set a ruthless pace. The ropes swayed with every thrust, my body rocking helplessly in the harness, completely at his mercy.
"You feel that?" he growled, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "Feel how full you are? How fucking stuffed?"
Drool spilled from my slack mouth—mixed with the taste of him, the remnants of his earlier assault on my throat—dripping down my chin to splatter on the floor below.
The vibrator pulsed in time with his thrusts. Every stroke drove him deeper, drove the toy harder against that specific spot, drove me closer and closer to an edge that had grown much too familiar.
"Master—" The word came out broken, garbled. "Please—"
"Please what?" He punctuated the question with a thrust so deep I saw stars. "Please stop? Please more?"
"I don't—I can't—"
"You can." Another devastating thrust. "And you will."
He shifted the angle, and I shattered.
The orgasm hit without warning—violent, blinding—my body clenching so hard around him and the toy that he groaned like he'd been gutted.
"Yes—fuck—just like that—" His pace turned frantic. "Keep coming. Don't fucking stop."
I couldn't have stopped.
Hadn't since the beginning.
The pleasure was endless now—one peak bleeding into the next. I was nothing but sensation. Nothing but ropes and the man ruining me, the vibrator humming its relentless rhythm deep inside.
"Again," Damien commanded.
I obeyed.
My body convulsed, another wave crashing through me, tears and drool streaming down my face.
"So fucking good—" His thrusts grew erratic, his breath ragged. "So fucking perfect—taking everything I give you—"
The vibrator kicked up a notch.
"MASTER!" The scream ripped from somewhere primal. My vision blacked out at the edges, my body seizing, every muscle locked in a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
"One more," he demanded, his voice cracking. "Give me one more and I'll come so deep inside you—fuck—Emma—"
His hand snaked around my hip, finding where the vibrator's tail met my clit, and he pressed.
The orgasm wasn't a wave this time—it was a bomb. White-hot, obliterating everything in its path. I screamed until my voice gave out, until there was nothing left but a hoarse, broken wail that echoed off the walls.
And then—
The world went soft.
The edges blurred. The sounds muffled. The sensations that had been so sharp, so overwhelming, began to feel like nothing.
I was floating.
Not in the ropes anymore—somewhere deeper. Somewhere warm and dark and infinitely safe. The pain was gone. The pleasure was gone. Only stillness. Only peace.
"Emma," Damien's voice cut through—low, urgent, controlled. "Stay with me."
A pause—his hand firm on my hip, steadying the sway.
"Breathe for me."
Distantly, so distantly, I felt his hips stutter, driving deep one last time.
He came with a roar that shook us both.
And I felt it—pulsing, endless—mixing with the vibrations still humming inside.
"Mine—all—mine."
I wanted to stay.
Wanted to hear him.
Wanted to feel him collapse against me—wanted to catch the ragged edge of his groans against my shoulder.
But the warmth was already pulling me under.
Soft.
Safe.
Gone.
The last thing I registered was his voice—broken, desperate, reverent.
One last time.
"Mine—all—mine."
And then there was nothing but the dark.
And the floating.