79. Helena #3
“Bertram, no,” Helena whined.
“You’re right, I’m being unfair.” Bertram kissed the top of her head sympathetically. “Too many LRSes in one session just leads to frustration, doesn’t it? I guess I could just end the session and leave you entirely for the night . . .”
“Excuse me!” Helena said. “You’re the one who decided that you weren’t going to have sex with me until you made some grand gesture.”
“I know,” said Bertram. He lightly ran his nails from the base of Helena’s spine up to her neck and back down again, sending full body shivers of anticipation through Helena.
“Because I wanted to prove my sincerity in cultivating a long-term relationship and show that your trust is as important to me as your body.”
“And that was your stupid idea; I don’t see why I should be punished for that!” Helena whined.
“You shouldn’t,” Bertram agreed. “However.”
Bertram’s hands slid around Helena’s waist and crept up toward her breasts but stopped just short of grabbing them.
Instead, he brought his thumbs up to the underside of her breasts and touched them ever so lightly.
Helena felt her nipples tighten, but Bertram’s hands stayed cruelly just below them.
“I recall saying, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be touching you. And I would never want to see you punished for that. But I do not recall suggesting that you unzip your pants and grind on my knee until you came, knowing perfectly well I would deny myself any similar release.” Bertram’s hands ghosted across Helena’s breasts, peaking her nipples further, but he applied no real pressure.
“That was very mean, Helena. And now I’m afraid I have no choice but to be mean in return. ”
Helena’s breath hitched as her body flooded with a mixture of disappointment, anticipation, frustration, and arousal.
Helena tried once again to remove her dress, practically ripping the fabric herself but only managing to find herself even more constricted by the nipped-in waist now caught diagonally across her ribcage, and by Bertram’s hands now encircling her wrists, his face smiling wickedly from behind her.
“Nah, ah, ah,” Bertram said as he caught her hands easily.
“Bertram, please.” Helena tried to move against him, but he stepped backward so that she was pressed against the side of the tent, but he was just out of reach.
Bertram stared casually off in another corner of the room, not meeting her eye, as if she wasn’t even there.
“This is literally the meanest thing anyone’s ever done to me,” Helena whimpered.
But she went limp and stopped moving.
“Good,” Bertram said.
Helena flushed and continued standing still.
Mercifully, Bertram finally returned to untangling the zipper from her dress lining.
Helena whimpered but didn’t move.
“Good,” Bertram said, and pressed a kiss to the top of her spine, just below her hair. He followed this with a light stroke with his fingers down her neck.
“Please, Bertram. I need you to touch me.”
“I am touching you,” Bertram said, playing with her hair.
“No, more—I need more. I’m going to—to report you for animal cruelty!”
“Mm. Is that so?” Bertram asked, before licking the side of Helena’s neck from collarbone to just below her ear, where he knew she was most sensitive.
“Y-yes,” Helena stammered out. “If you insist on treating me in this manner I’ll have no choice but to inform the Otherfolk Ethics Review Committee.”
“Now that’s a field report I’d be interested in studying,” Bertram said as he nuzzled her neck.
Helena frowned, all sensuality of the moment completely halted by the dire implications. “Why did you say it like that? Are you not interested in my other fi—ah, fuck!”
Bertram was now cupping her between her legs over her dress, but with enough pressure that Helena forgot what science was, much less why it was supposed to matter so much to her.
Nothing mattered to her, really, except the feel of the cotton against her thighs as Bertram increased the friction he was applying to her.
Bertram scooped her up from under her knees and lay her on the bed. He crawled on top of it after her, straddling her waist, one knee on each side.
He leaned forward and tapped her chin with two fingers.
“Suck,” he ordered her.
She did, without hesitation.
“Good,” said Bertram.
“I’ll do it to your cock too,” Helena said, a desperation in her voice. “If you just get me out of this dress, and if you just touch me, I’ll suck your cock, I’ll do anything—”
“Oh, that’s very kind, sweetheart.” Bertram smoothed her hair off her forehead. “But I’ve tortured you enough for one evening, I think you’ll agree.”
Helena whimpered her agreement.
Bertram pushed the dress up to Helena’s waist and pulled down her undergarments before inserting his fingers into her.
“Twelve hells, you’re soaking.”
Helena didn’t respond—doing so would simply be validating his bad behavior, and she didn’t want him to think that the amount of teasing and torture he put her through was at all acceptable. Two could play at the LRS game.
“I didn’t need you to wet my fingers at all, did I?” Bertram mused as he inserted another finger into Helena. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
Helena moaned as Bertram inserted a third finger, then nodded with satisfaction.
“Sit up,” he said, and Helena scrambled to do so.
“Good,” said Bertram, and turned her around to fiddle with the zipper, which he finally managed to unstick. He pulled the dress off over Helena’s head and threw it across the tent.
Helena gasped as if she was coming up for air after drowning. “Good lord, that thing did not want to leave my body.”
“And who would?” Bertram said, bending to kiss her chest.
Helena shivered and moaned softly under his touch.