Weston removes the hose, humming as he runs his hand along my shorts, right over my pussy, soothing me with his touch. Mewling softly, I feel him pull the material of my shortsto the side and stick his fingers inside, weaving through the openings in the fishnet stockings to check on me.
“Fuck, darlin’. You liked that, didn’t you?”
He pulls his fingers out and holds them up in front of my face so I can see what I already know is there.
My desire shines on his fingers, beneath the glare of the spotlight that’s pointed right at us.
“My girl likes to get a little freaky, huh? Don’t be scared to use your safe word if you need to.”
All I do is whimper, fascinated by this version of him.
Weston wipes his fingers on my lips, smearing my arousal on my own mouth roughly, then leans in to kiss it off of me. His tongue presses past my lips, letting me taste what he’s doing to me, and my eyes flutter shut, my thighs clamp together, savoring the fresh rush of heat between them.
If he could only see how pebbled my nipples are right now, I know he’d take them in his mouth, and for a moment I curse my choice of outfit. What I wouldn’t do to feel his mouth on all of me right now.
He pulls back too soon, and I groan at the lack of contact.
Like he’s instructing me, Weston holds the hose up in front of our faces, and says, “This is called an air compressor. Does all sorts of shit in the shop. Tonight, it’s got a new job. It’s gonna get you off.”
Jaw hanging just enough so my lips are parted, I watch this beautiful man transform into an actual beast in front of my eyes.
He presses something on the nozzle end of the hose, and I canseethe burst of air that comes out of it. The noise alone is so loud it hurts my ears, but the pressure coming out of that thing could probably knock me over if I wasn’t strung up.
My eyes feel like they belong on an anime doll they’re so damn round, and he must read the uncertainty on my facebecause he bends over, turning a knob on the machine before standing back up again.
“Don’t worry, angel. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He pushes the trigger again and it blows out another puff, much less violent than the first ones.
“I know,” I tell him softly, licking my lips at the fire in his eyes. The potential of what’s in his hands.
“Let’s see how many puffs it takes for you to come,” he says, mouth twitching up as he drops to his knees in one motion. A scuffing sound against the cement floor makes me realize he’s wearing kneepads. This motherfucker planned every bit of this.
Weston kneels between my feet, spreading my legs out to fit his body right where he wants it. I watch, so eager for whatever he has in mind, as he presses one palm against the inside of my thigh, holding me open for him as he lines up the other hand, positioning the nozzle.
Holding it a good six inches or more away from my pussy, still covered by the fishnets and my shorts, Weston touches the trigger so briefly it barely goes off, just a quick blast of air, over in a flash. It’s powerful enough that it nearly triggers an orgasm instantly.
I moan loudly, not worrying about trying to keep it in. My stomach flips, tugging with need as molten desire pools, hot and low in my abdomen.
“Fuck that’s insane,” I tell him, breathless.
“That’s one,” he counts off. And he presses the trigger again, for longer.
My legs shudder, nipples at full attention, goosebumps all over from the intensity of the pleasure that brings.
“Fuck!” I scream the word, and he smiles at me, a wicked thing.
The orgasm building from this treatment is going to be violent, nothing sweet about it.
“Two,” he says, and he presses it again.
I feel my skin flutter beneath the pressure of the air flow, and he jiggles the hose in his hand this time so it feels like I’m being finger fucked by a goddamn ghost of porn star past.
Another curse leaves my lips, and I don’t have the breath to scream it this time. I can barely get air, gasping, bent over as much as my restraints allow, watching Weston work on me from below.
“There’s three.”
Blasts four, five, and six nearly wrench my soul from my body. Each one could make me come in and of itself, but he turns it off so fast every time I’m left panting, on the edge of breaking, going mad from his brand of torture.
