I let out a soft moan, the creak of a bottle ringing through the air, and my eyes want to snap to the direction of the sound, but they can’t. I can’t see what he’s doing from here, nor can I move around too much, considering the restraints.
“What is that?” I rush to ask.
Cold liquid pours down between my legs. His low voice rumbles above me as his hand cups my face, squeezing both cheeks until my lips purse. “All this talk is making me want to gag you. Do youwantme to gag you, Cecilia?”
I breathe in and out, my pussy fluttering at the threat. It’s the only answer I can give him.
“Yes, it will hurt,” he says, casually smiling, anticipating one of the many questions I have swarming in my head. “Yes, you will love it. And yes, I will make you come. Now, give me your safe word so I know you remember it.”
“M-malachite.”
“The one and only.”
Then, his fingers slide between my legs, finding my pussy and?—
“Mikhail…wait…” I say when I feel him touching my asshole.
But he doesn’t listen, pushing that finger inside me inch by inch as I fight the restraints. Finally, I understand why he keeps insisting on my safe word, why he tied me up.
Despite the new intrusion, my pussy still betrays me, throbbing softly above his hand, liking the way he explores me. If I tell him to stop, I won’t really mean it. If I give him my safe word…then, it’s real. And we’ll both know it.
A slight stretch draws a moan from me, my muscles clenched and a little tense around him. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but then again, that finger is nowhere near the thickness of his cock.
“Relax for me,Lastochka. The more you fight it, the more it will hurt.”
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” I whisper, forcing my body to loosen.
“Just like that, beautiful. It’s almost fully inside.”
I lie here and experience him, body and mind shackled to his will alone. He won’t stop until he claims me everywhere. And me? I still haven’t uttered my safe word.
“You’re being such a good girl for me. Look at this pretty hole.Fuck,” he says, thrusting in and out, slowly and rhythmically. Pleasure builds up somewhere—in my core, or right there where he touches me, I can’t tell exactly. All I know is it makes me want to beg for more.
“Pl-ease…”
“Please what, Cecilia?”
I turn my head to the side, the full plea refusing to form on my tongue.
“What have we learned so far, hmm? Tell me.”
“Don’t lie to you,” I breathe out. “Say what I mean and what I want.”
“So tell me what you want then.”
I squeeze my eyes shut from embarrassment, his thrusting making my body bob up and down on the table. The pleasurekeeps building somewhere, but it’s dull. It needs more, and the only way I can get it is to ask. He wants me toask. Damn him.
“I want…”
“Yes?”
“M-more. I want more.”
“More what?”
God. He’s really going to make me say it.
I take in a breath, swallow down my shame and my dignity, and, knowing full well where his finger is right now, I utter the words, “I need you to touch my pussy while you…do that thing with my ass.”
