“Touching yourself,” he murmurs, “and sleeping in so late. Tsk, tsk.”
I can’t help but gasp. “How… how do you know?”
“Do you really think I don’t know everything about you?” he chuckles. “I’m watching you, little pet.”
“You are?”
I look up at the tiny black camera that, like the phone, I’d come to assume was just decoration. Or at least, not in use. But it turns out hehasbeen watching. My cheeks grow hot as I wonder what else he’s seen.
“Guess I’m going to have to punish you,” he murmurs, and I sink to my knees, my heart hammering in my chest. “Too bad.”
He clicks his tongue sympathetically, but I can tell he doesn’t feel bad at all. In fact, he seems to look forward to it.
My hands shake around the receiver, and I wonder how I feel about it. Terrified, yes… but that weird pressure in my stomach is back.
“What punishment?” I breathe.
“You’re a curious little pet, aren’t you? But it’s no fun if I tell you.”
I pass a trembling hand over my eyes.
“You’re right to be scared,” he adds darkly. “Now, hurry. You have exactly five minutes to get ready. Don’t make me wait. The more I wait, the worse it will be for you.”
He hangs up and I stand slowly, inching away from the telephone, my heart in my throat. Then I jump to action when I remember his warning.
Hurrying to the bathroom, I take a lightning shower, brush my teeth, and slip into the first dress I find. Then I sit back down on my bed, twisting my hands nervously in my lap, wondering again what the hell he means by punishment.
With Ben, it was a punch to my head or to my stomach. With the Beast, a beating with whatever he happened to be holding in his hands. With Damien…
I don’t have to wait long. Thirty seconds later, the door opens and he’s standing in front of me, a smirk on his lips.
“Still scared?” he asks, and when I nod hesitantly, he smiles. “Good. Close your eyes and lie down.”
I do as he says, my back and arms pebbling with goosebumps, sweat pricking at my temples. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his fingers on my shoulders, sliding down my arms.
“Don’t move or I’ll tie you up,” he warns, his breath hot against my ear.
I take a few deep breaths and will myself to relax. He continues to slide his fingers down my body until he reaches the hem of my dress. He flips it up over my waist and I gasp.
“Shush, pet. Keep still.”
I manage to bite down on a whimper when I feel his fingers flit over to my panties and push the cotton fabric up into my wetness.
“Soaked,” he breathes.
He lets his finger drag against my panties for a few moments while I try my best not to squirm, the pressure building in my stomach.
Then he rips them off and I gasp in spite of myself. He shushes me again, and I feel him draw closer.
It’s absolute torture to keep my eyes closed, unable to see what he’s doing. I feel his hot breath against my thighs, against my mound, against the wet folds between my legs. And then… something wet.
His tongue.
This time, I can’t help but cry out in shock. He doesn’t shush me, though. He merely begins to lap at me.
I blush furiously, hiding my face in my hands. I can’t believe he’s touching me there with his mouth. I’m so embarrassed. I wonder if I smell bad. I must taste horribly. What is he doing?
He chuckles at my reaction and continues to lave my pussy, zeroing in on a single area that increases the sensation one-thousand-fold. Then he applies his lips to it and sucks it in.
