"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Come for me."
His fingers work inside me while his tongue maintains steady pressure on my clit. The orgasm builds fast, inevitable. I pull against the ropes, not to escape but because I need something to fight against as everything tightens low in my belly.
When it hits, I cry out. My body locks up, every muscle clenching, and then the release—hot and sharp and overwhelming. He doesn't stop. Keeps working me through it until I'm gasping.
Then he pulls back slightly, lets me catch my breath. But his fingers stay inside me, still moving in slow strokes.
"One," he says. "We're just getting started."
He leans down again, and I realize he meant what he said. He's going to make me lose count.
His mouth returns to my clit, gentler now that I'm sensitive, but still insistent. Building me back up before the first orgasmhas fully faded. His fingers continue their steady rhythm inside me, and I feel the pressure building again impossibly fast.
"Luc, I can't?—"
"You can." His voice is steel. "And you will. You're going to come as many times as I decide. Until you can't think. Until all that control you're so proud of is completely fucking gone."
The crude edge in his voice sends heat through me. He increases the pressure with his tongue, curls his fingers harder against that spot inside me. The second orgasm hits before I'm ready, sharper than the first, almost painful in its intensity. I strain against the ropes, need the anchor they provide as sensation overwhelms thought.
He gives me even less recovery time. His mouth stays on me, relentless, while he adds another finger. The stretch borders on too much, but he knows exactly how far to push. Knows the line between pleasure and pain and how to walk it.
"Please."
"Please what?" His voice is dark, commanding. "Tell me what you need."
"I need—" I can barely form words. "I need?—"
"You need to surrender. Completely." He withdraws his fingers and I hear him move, hear a low buzzing sound. "Let's see how well you can let go."
The vibrator touches my clit and I nearly come apart. The sensation is intense, relentless, nothing like his tongue. He holds it there while his other hand slides back inside me, and the combination makes me writhe against the restraints.
"Stay still," he commands. "Or I stop."
I force myself motionless even as my body screams for movement, for friction, for release. He works the vibrator in slow circles while his fingers pump inside me, and I can feel another orgasm building impossibly fast.
"Good girl. That's what I want to see. You, completely helpless. Completely mine." The vibrator presses harder. "Come."
The third orgasm rips through me, deeper than the first, sharper than the second. I pull hard against the ropes, the only outlet for the intensity flooding my system. He doesn't let up, keeps the vibrator on my clit through the aftershocks until I'm whimpering.
When he finally pulls it away, I'm shaking. Oversensitive. The sound of the vibrator stops and I hear him set it aside.
My mind is empty. Just Luc and the darkness and complete surrender.
I hear him moving, the rustle of fabric, the sound of a zipper. Then his weight settles between my spread legs and I feel him—hard, thick—pressing against my entrance.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he says, his voice rough with need. "And you're going to take everything I give you."
He pushes inside in one long stroke and I cry out. The stretch after the vibrator is almost too much, the fullness overwhelming. He gives me a moment to adjust, then pulls back and thrusts again.
"Tell me how it feels," he commands.
"Full," I gasp. "So full. I need?—"
"What do you need?"
"More. Please. I need more."
He gives it to me. Sets a rhythm that's deep and relentless, each thrust hitting that spot inside me that his fingers found. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he takes what he wants.
