The vibration increased, building toward a peak I could already feel approaching. My hands fisted in the sheets, thighs tensing.
Then it stopped.
"Fuck!" The frustration tore out of me.
"Language. But I'll allow it given the circumstances." He waited thirty seconds, then started again. "The pacifier, Lilah. Such a simple thing."
Again he built me up, expert in reading my body's responses. Again he stopped just before release.
"I hate you," I gasped.
"I know. The pacifier?"
"No!"
The third time was worse. My body was primed now, desperate for release after days of conditioning. Every nerve ending screamed for completion he wouldn't provide.
"Your choice," he said mildly. "We can do this all day. I cleared my schedule specifically for you."
By the sixth edge, I was sobbing. By the tenth, begging. But not for what he wanted. Not yet.
"Please," I gasped as he denied me again. "Please just—"
"You know what I want." He held up the pacifier again. "Sixty seconds. That's all."
My pride warred with my desperate body. But pride had already cost me so much. What was sixty seconds compared to this torture?
"Fine." The word ripped from my throat. "Fine, I'll do it."
"Ask nicely."
I wanted to scream. Instead: "May I please try the pacifier?"
"Good girl." He moved to sit beside me on the bed. "Open your mouth."
This was it. The moment I gave up another piece of myself. But my body hurt, everything throbbed with denied release, and sixty seconds seemed like such a small surrender.
I opened my mouth.
The pacifier slipped between my lips, heavier than expected. The shield pressed against my face, forcing my mouth into a specific shape. I wanted to bite down, to reject it, but something about the weight was... soothing?
"Suck," he instructed gently. "Like you would naturally. Don't think about it."
I tried not to. Tried to just get through sixty seconds. But the motion came instinctively, some deep muscle memory from infancy. The rhythmic action, the gentle pressure, the way it made me focus on just this one simple thing...
"Good baby," he murmured.
The words hit like lightning. Combined with the sucking motion, the vulnerability of the position, the days of conditioning—my body responded without permission. The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, unexpected and overwhelming. I convulsed on the bed, pacifier still between my lips, crying and coming and completely destroyed.
"There we go." His hand stroked my hair as I shook through aftershocks. "See? Your body already knows what you are. What you need. We just have to teach your mind to accept it."
I spat out the pacifier, rolling away from him, curling into a ball. Everything hurt. Not just physically but deeper, in places I'd kept locked for decades.
"That was beautiful," he said softly. "A perfect demonstration of how the body holds what the mind denies."
"Shut up." The words came out muffled against my arms. "Just shut up."
"We'll work more with this over the coming weeks. The pacifier, the sippy cup, learning to accept comfort without shame." He stood, gathering his items. "You did wonderfully today, Lilah. Real breakthrough work."
