"What is it?"
I swallow hard. "B-blue banana."
"Use it when you have to, and I will stop. No questions. Got it? Any other forms of no I will ignore. Understand?"
"Y-yes."
"Good."
His fingers slide up along my hip. "Now, don't fight me, or you will be punished."
Heat devours me as my pussy starts to throb in earnest, probably ruining the panties as juices begin to flow.
I ache, deep within, because I need to be touched, to be filled. Devoured.
I whisper back, "Please, please don't?—"
I try to lift my leg and realize he has tied my ankles to the bed, too.
"Don't what?"
"Don't hurt me. Let me go."
I can almost feel the bite of his stare, and I struggle, desperate to see him, all the while pleas to be set free fall like rain from my lips.
I beg and offer and plead, I demand and threaten and return to begging.
What I don't do is say blue banana.
All I want is for him to touch me.
I'm panting as I twist and turn, trying to get the blindfold off.
But he doesn't say a word, his fingers trail over me, blazingglory in their wake. Over my nipples, on the top of the lace, which only pumps me higher, and the soft slide of his fingers and the netting of the bra are wonderful, sending rivulets of need racing through me.
I'm throbbing in earnest now, a bomb looking for a fuse.
He slips down over my stomach, a light brush of fingertips that makes me moan and beg him. "Fuck me..."
But he is in control.
Without a word, his will presses into me, stilling me.
I hate him, I want him. I need him.
Alex hooks his thumb into the side of the panties, pulling the material in against my wet flesh.
And then I let out a tiny scream as his head presses between my thighs.
I can't move. I'm his to take from, his to torture, his to have. Any way he sees fit.
The slide of his tongue along my barely covered lips is almost enough to make the pleasure burst into orgasmic bliss.
Everything in me spirals down into that moment, and each stroke of his tongue is accompanied by his thumb on my clit.
I start to shake.
It is a lot.
