On my final word, he utters some praise, whips the vibrating dildo out of my pussy, and shoves it into my mouth with a command. “Show them how beautifully you suck, Zar.”
The whole scene is humiliating in the most exhilarating way. I’m splayed open for all to see. But thrilling energy from the voyeur hall leaks through the glass and reverberates around our room. And it’s only intensified when Axel’s tongue laves my opening. He curls three fingers inside me and swirls my clit before sucking it with a furious vehemence.
He’s on his knees, in front of his empire. For me. Flaunting his skill after I’m already satiated. It’s haughty and humble in a single sultry lick. Another reminder that I’m his in ways no one ever has been.
It rallies another orgasm to brim in my core. Each swipe of his languid tongue, each hollow of my cheeks on my cum-coated dildo, each juddering tremor in my bone-weary thighs—everytouch and tease and nip and pinch—intensifies my sensitivity, rocketing my pleasure and driving me closer to the edge.
Until, without electro stimulation, my husband suffuses my entire being with a dynamic charge.
Sparks and sizzle and bolts of jubilation.
Velvet and sandpaper and satin serenity.
Worshipped by a god who holds the heavens and imparts the divine.
Click. Three.
I am disrobed, void of clothing, shoes, sight, and privacy. And perhaps anything that isn’t a high. The amber glow is brighter now. My hands flop lazily from the cuffs, my joints relax, my mouth is freed, and my mind pours every ounce of effort into reminding me not to drop my metal counter.
“I don’t know if I can,” I mutter, half delirious. Yanked in opposing directions—rest or rapture.
“You have a safe word,” Axel reminds me. “Otherwise, I decide when you’re done.”
He returns the vibrator to my pussy—pumping it in and out while I squirm—before he bestows another boneless blast of euphoria by heightening my senses again. He rakes a spiky, electrified wheel across the inside of my thighs and over the flat plane of my stomach and into the valley of my chest, encircling my breasts and torturing my nipples.
A balm and a burn.
All my nerve endings are awakened, blistering with glee and aching for more.
I’m panting and pleading and letting go. Again.
Click. Four.
He cradles my chin, like he does so often, pecking my nose so that I can envision the adoration illuminating his handsome face. “You’re doing so good, my precious Thorn. You need to give me one more.”
I’m exhausted, but it’s an invigorating depletion—one that siphons all the intrusive thoughts and worries and fears from my chaotic mind, one that leaves me hungry to please him.
“I will,” I vow before remembering the other part of how I earn him baring himself alongside me. “Then can I taste you? Please.”
He doesn’t answer. But my wrists are unbound and cuffed behind my back. He lifts me, depositing me on the floor in a kneeling position. The spreader bar is still stretched between my ankles, so my legs are shoulder-width apart. He yanks the vibrator out of my pussy, and a new one is thrust inside. It has a lip that teases my clit, and within a second, an unbidden moan emanates from my lungs.
I’m an addict.
“I am helpless to your pleas. Ask for anything you want, and it will be yours. Anything.” He strokes my head and refocuses on safety. “If you need to stop, you’ll drop your clicker. Understood?”
“Yes,” I mutter. “I’ll drop it.”
With that confirmation, a chorus of awe wafts from the hall, and Axel’s cock slams into my throat.
He fists my hair and pumps with a punishing cadence, but he rasps sentiments like, “So gorgeous,” and, “This perfect mouth, baby,” and, “My royal bride, greedy for my cock and bare for all to see.”
His words drape me in confidence and tear down any resistance I had left in me. With his king’s crown scoring my tonsils and my overly sensitive core being teased, I come embarrassingly fast. But he doesn’t seem to mind. While I’m still quivering with aftershocks, he sweeps me into his arms and sets me back on the bed. The clicker is forgotten. He uncuffs my wrists, soothes my fingers, removes the vibrator, and leaves me there. Time is a blur, so I can’t be sure how long it takes him, butthere is a celebratory din beyond the wall and then Axel’s skin dusting mine.
His palms frame my face, and our lips collide. It’s a kiss like our first one. Wanton and feral and full of promises. Tongues and teeth and nips and swallows. Champagne toasts and vows before family. Ballroom dancing and exhibitionism trysts.
The scent of first snow and the flavor of fallen souls.
He lifts my legs, stations himself between my thighs so the spreader bar rests on his upper back, whips off my blindfold, and thrusts inside me in one all-consuming plunge.
