Chapter 59 Day Twenty-One, Lorian
DAY TWENTY-ONE, LORIAN
Eve kneels before me, whip in hand. “My turn,” she says.
I don’t hesitate. I bare my back and kneel on the cold stone floor. “Do it. Take what I allow.”
The neural whip cracks. The first lash is weak. The second makes me grunt. By the fifth, she’s found her rhythm, and hot blood is streaking down my back. And the rhythm of the pain and the pleasure of the whip is throwing me into ecstasy all over again.
“You like it,” she says.
“Yes.”
She lets the whip drop and roughly fists my cock. She strokes me once, twice, then pulls away. “Beg me, Lorian.”
I bow my head, reveling in my part, but say nothing.
“I remember how you called this training.”
She pushes me onto my back and swings a leg over my head and straddles my face before I can answer, pressing her wet, furry folds to my mouth. The smell of her is so human and intoxicating. “Lick me,” she commands.
And I obey. My tongue confidently parts her to find her clit, and she moans as I circle it. I try to lick up everything while my cock throbs, neglected.
Her thighs clamp around my head as she rocks harder, while my tongue flicks her clit faster and she cries out, pulling my hair. “That’s it. You punished me for something similar once. Don’t you fucking stop.”
My cock jerks untouched, but I moan into her sex, devouring her words, and the vibration makes her shudder.
She grinds harder, chasing her own pleasure, using me until she convulses with a sob, coming against my tongue.
Then she slides down my chest, smearing her wetness over me until she straddles my cock.
She drags her slit along the shaft, coating me, making me throb harder but never letting me inside.
It’s agony.
“Please let me inside you.”
Her brown eyes blaze with the power I’ve given her. “You denied me. Repeatedly. Now you’ll taste the same disappointment.”
She grinds along my length, over the head, down the shaft, back up again.
I cry out at the friction, every nerve on fire, balls tight and aching.
“Beg harder.”
“I’m yours,” I say. “Please—please, Eve, I can’t—”
She slaps the head of my cock, hard.
I flinch from the pain and groan.
She lowers herself back onto my mouth, and I can barely breathe, but I lick her like she owns me. Then she rides me until she comes again, her cries filling the shrine like a prayer to the goddesses.
When she moves off my face, I roll onto my knees and beg her, “Please, I need to come.”
“Beg harder.” She strokes my hair. “This is the cage you designed. I decide when it opens.”
And then this delicious pattern repeats. Us taking turns hurting one another. It’s all a blur of incense and holographic goddesses and it will end when Rafe returns.
Three weeks of unlimited shrine sessions. Three weeks of bruises, come, and confessions.
Magnificent.