desperate to be filled.
“See the thing is,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to flick against her clit, “that I don’t care if you come or not. I don’t care if it takes hours or minutes. If you come once or never or a hundred times. Right now, you’re mine. And until you tell me otherwise, I get to use you any way I want. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, frantic; the flat of his tongue was pressed firmly against her sensitive nub, and every beat of her heart made the need for him soar just a little more deeply into her bones. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to form words with her mouth.
“So if I decided to lick you until you scream, and then jack off until I came on your tits, would there be anything you could do about it?” One finger was circling her cunt, not entering her, just stretching at her entrance, and she made a noise that was something like keening. “Words, Zoey. Could you stop me? If that was what I wanted to do?”
“No,” she forced herself to whimper. “No. No.”
“You’re at my mercy.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir. Oh god, oh please—yes—please—”
“What do you want? I want to hear you beg.”
Her pussy ached with arousal; her clit was as heavy as if it had been cast in lead. “I want you to fuck me, with that toy, I want you to fill me everywhere, I want to come clenching around you—”
“No,” he said, and his mouth closed over her pussy as his finger slid back, finding lube from somewhere and then gently opening her ass. She screamed as thunder poured through her, crackling and snapping, and the lightning followed, her hips bucking so hard that she thought she’d hurt him, but the passion was too much to be contained. He didn’t stop, didn’t let her come down, just kept dragging his tongue and his fingers—more than one now, god, how was he filling her so much, so well?—over the spots inside of her body that were turning her inside out, making her scream until her body just fell into limp disarray, hanging from the cuffs, the pleasure of it all wringing her out and leaving her behind in sodden scraps.
He kissed her then, keepping his mouth locked on hers as he fitted the toy under his cock. One loop around his shaft, the other over his balls, and then it jutted out beneath his cock, bobbing almost comically as he shifted down between her thighs.
When the head of his cock brushed over her clit, her body came awake again, even though she would have said it was impossible. She heard a groan tear through her as he ran lube over the toy, and then he was pressing carefully and delicately in her.
The sounds she made were positively filthy, low, and open throated. She felt far away, distant, away from what was happening to her body. Floating. This was the truth of it. This was why people did this, she knew suddenly. Because it gave them a chance to go away. To trust someone else to do the things that made their bodies light on fire.
She was full of him, swollen with him. He lifted her hips so that he had an angle he liked better, and the orgasm that curled through her had little to do with his cock in her—it was about the intimacy of his gaze on her, the sense of being filled entirely by someone else, and the way he stretched her to the limit, grazed the edge of pain, and then swelled just a little more every time she cried out. Her eyes were wide open, too full to blink, and his expression mirrored hers. Swollen, full, unbelievable.
He pounded into her until he followed her over the edge, his breath harsh and ragged, on the harsh edge of tears. He unfastened her wrists, his chest still heaving, and carried her down to the bed, curling her onto his chest with one strong arm, the other reaching to the side for a soft cloth that he used to clean up the fluids of their joining.
Was this what people meant by subspace? Her heart and mind felt far away, both rung out yet
“See the thing is,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to flick against her clit, “that I don’t care if you come or not. I don’t care if it takes hours or minutes. If you come once or never or a hundred times. Right now, you’re mine. And until you tell me otherwise, I get to use you any way I want. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, frantic; the flat of his tongue was pressed firmly against her sensitive nub, and every beat of her heart made the need for him soar just a little more deeply into her bones. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to form words with her mouth.
“So if I decided to lick you until you scream, and then jack off until I came on your tits, would there be anything you could do about it?” One finger was circling her cunt, not entering her, just stretching at her entrance, and she made a noise that was something like keening. “Words, Zoey. Could you stop me? If that was what I wanted to do?”
“No,” she forced herself to whimper. “No. No.”
“You’re at my mercy.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir. Oh god, oh please—yes—please—”
“What do you want? I want to hear you beg.”
Her pussy ached with arousal; her clit was as heavy as if it had been cast in lead. “I want you to fuck me, with that toy, I want you to fill me everywhere, I want to come clenching around you—”
“No,” he said, and his mouth closed over her pussy as his finger slid back, finding lube from somewhere and then gently opening her ass. She screamed as thunder poured through her, crackling and snapping, and the lightning followed, her hips bucking so hard that she thought she’d hurt him, but the passion was too much to be contained. He didn’t stop, didn’t let her come down, just kept dragging his tongue and his fingers—more than one now, god, how was he filling her so much, so well?—over the spots inside of her body that were turning her inside out, making her scream until her body just fell into limp disarray, hanging from the cuffs, the pleasure of it all wringing her out and leaving her behind in sodden scraps.
He kissed her then, keepping his mouth locked on hers as he fitted the toy under his cock. One loop around his shaft, the other over his balls, and then it jutted out beneath his cock, bobbing almost comically as he shifted down between her thighs.
When the head of his cock brushed over her clit, her body came awake again, even though she would have said it was impossible. She heard a groan tear through her as he ran lube over the toy, and then he was pressing carefully and delicately in her.
The sounds she made were positively filthy, low, and open throated. She felt far away, distant, away from what was happening to her body. Floating. This was the truth of it. This was why people did this, she knew suddenly. Because it gave them a chance to go away. To trust someone else to do the things that made their bodies light on fire.
She was full of him, swollen with him. He lifted her hips so that he had an angle he liked better, and the orgasm that curled through her had little to do with his cock in her—it was about the intimacy of his gaze on her, the sense of being filled entirely by someone else, and the way he stretched her to the limit, grazed the edge of pain, and then swelled just a little more every time she cried out. Her eyes were wide open, too full to blink, and his expression mirrored hers. Swollen, full, unbelievable.
He pounded into her until he followed her over the edge, his breath harsh and ragged, on the harsh edge of tears. He unfastened her wrists, his chest still heaving, and carried her down to the bed, curling her onto his chest with one strong arm, the other reaching to the side for a soft cloth that he used to clean up the fluids of their joining.
Was this what people meant by subspace? Her heart and mind felt far away, both rung out yet
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