She felt the heat in her hand, but it was manageable. She’d decided if she couldn’t stand it on her hand, she had no business coating his cock, balls, and asshole with it.
And next came his balls. The eyedropper above them, and then her hands smoothing it onto them.
The sobs returned, but she didn’t slow. His cock was standing tall and pulsing, his scent told her the burn was intense, but his arousal was tangling with the pain.
His asshole could wait, though. No sense in overloading him too much, too soon.
Emmy walked to the sink, washed her hands, returned, and went to her back before him, judging the distance before she spread her legs and ordered, “Eat. Make it good for me.”
With his hands bound behind his back, he’d only be able to use his lips and tongue, but he was quite talented.
He only took a handful of seconds to lean over and adjust his knees so his face landed in the right spot, and then he worked his tongue in all the ways he knew she liked — around her clit, around her hole, and then in her hole, his face pressed so hard into her he had to pull back to breathe.
He pleasured her while he cried, his cock and balls on fire. He sobbed against her clit, sobbed while he rimmed her,while he tongued her pussy, then her asshole. Back to her pussy. Every whimper vibrated into her cunt until she gasped and shuddered and came against his mouth while she held the back of his head.
Again and again he brought her, until finally she stood and donned a strap-on, covered it in cinnamon oil, ordered him to knees and chest, and fucked his ass without prep and without mercy.
She’d never scented his arousal higher, and the two had played several times a week for months. They would talk about it later, but for now, he was in danger of orgasming without permission, so she pulled out and gave him a few minutes to collect himself. He was hurting more than she’d planned to take it, and yet, his arousal was so high, it worked.
She decided against riding him. The goal was orgasm denial today. All of this with no release.
At least, not now. She’d order him to jack off later, after he’dchangedand was back in human form without pain, but she’d been hurt without pleasure, desperately needing release because of the damned vampire venom, but with no way to get there.
Maybe she’d change her mind at the last minute, but it felt important to deny him. To take it all the way to the end without allowing climax.
She ordered him to kneel, and then moved back to where she’d been when he’d eaten her out, only a little closer.
She rolled a condom over his burning cock, lay back, and ordered, “Fuck me, little hare.”
He found just the right angle within the first couple of minutes, rubbing across the magical spots inside her so she came again and again. Felix was so close he was barely holding on, and something inside her shifted.
She wasn’t the vampire. This wasn’t about that.
Emmy wrapped her arms around his trembling body and said, “Permission given. Comenow.”
Felix cried out, the sound breaking open as he spilled inside the condom, body arching, tears on his face, his cock still burning with every twitch.
And then he collapsed on her. Emmy reached behind him to release the cuffs, sat him up to kneeling, and released his left ankle cuff from the table before saying, “Shift. Now.”
He came out of all four cuffs during thechange. She probably could’ve left them all connected, but she hadn’t wanted to risk it.
He was only the hare perhaps thirty seconds before he was human again, the burn gone, breath still ragged.
She helped him dress and sat him on the stool while she wiped surfaces down, put the items that could go in the dishwasher onto the top shelf, cleaned the cane and whip manually, and put her own clothes back on. She gathered the things she’d brought, and walked him up the stairs and into her bedroom.
He didn’t tell her he was hungry, didn’t make demands, though she knew he’d be starving after back-to-back shifts. The scene might be over, but he was still fully in submissivemode, which she found interesting because it meant this was completely psychological and had nothing to do with biology. Theoretically, anyway.
She’d made a huge salad for him earlier, slicing mushrooms, shredding carrots, chopping broccoli and cauliflower, dicing cucumbers. There were cherry tomatoes, shredded beets, dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, and feta cheese along with the homemade Greek salad dressing he makes himself.
And the look on his face when she handed him the bowl while he reclined on the wedge in her bed made every bit of prep worth it.
“It has everything I like,” he said in wonderment.
“Of course it does. I notice what you eat.”
Felix dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days, and Emmy sat with him and munched her spicy chicken nuggets dipped in blue cheese dressing.
And let herself breathe.
