Instead, my pussy clenches.
He leads me to the padded dais in the center of the room. I go willingly. His hand on the small of my back isn’t forceful—but it is commanding.
He sits.
I kneel.
Not because I have to.
Because I want to see his reaction.
“You test me, little flame,” he whispers.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“No,” he agrees softly. “But you will be afraid of how much you want what comes next.”
He leans forward, hands framing my face. His thumbs stroke my cheeks. Gentle. Almost tender.
Then he begins.
Not with force.
With torment.
One finger traces from my jaw, down my throat, over the swell of my breast. He circles a nipple once, slowly, and I gasp, hips jerking forward in instinctive need.
The lingerie tightens minutely with each breath I take, amplifying every sensation.
“Already wet,” he murmurs, amused, as his fingers slide lower and find my pussy slick and aching beneath the straps. “You deny yourself so much… but your body never lies.”
His finger presses between my folds, teasing, not entering. The spur on his cock flexes again as he watches my reaction.
I writhe.
I burn.
He doesn’t give me what I need.
Not yet.
“Say it,” he murmurs, mouth brushing mine. “Tell me what you want.”
“No.”
His hand wraps around my throat—not choking. Claiming.
“I can wait,” he purrs. “But you’ll beg before I’m done.”
Time dissolves.
His fingers finally slide inside my pussy—one, then two—stretching me slowly while his thumb works my clit with merciless precision. I cry out, back arching, body shaking as pleasure builds too fast, too sharp.
“Please,” I sob at last. “Please, Kallus… take me.”
He growls, low and primal, and lifts me as if I weigh nothing.
The lingerie dissolves at his command, melting away like mist.
