Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Something soft runs over my back. He’s starting with gentle sensation play, and I hate it. I want him to hurt me so I can hate him.
I want him to do anything but continue talking. His words are scaring me more than anything else could.
He finds the marks he left on my skin and tickles them. I twitch and twist, but he’s tied me well. The ropes hold me fast, and the knowledge that I’m held secure by them makes me wet.
“I know you’re afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He brushes the fur over my feet. “Let me attend to your fears, little bird.”
“Just shut up,” I mumble. “Shut up and hurt me.”
The fur falls away. He thrusts his fingers into my mouth. “Open,” he orders, pushing his fingers deeper until I gag. “Get them wet.”
He removes his fingers, and I cough. Next comes something hard and slick, filling my mouth. A gag. I push up as far as I can go, fighting, but it’s no use. He binds my head so the gag is secure and goes back to touching me all over. His fingers swirl patterns, getting closer and closer to my dripping sex.
I tighten my muscles, but he has full access to me. All too soon, he’s fingering me again.
“You’re afraid of us, of this. Of our connection, despite my darkness.”
I shake my head and grunt around the gag.
“Don’t deny it. I know it’s true. You’re afraid of this.” His fingers spread a slick lube over my swollen sex and then delve into the furrows alongside my entrance to soothe the prickling ache. “How well we fit together.”
The pressure builds, and I wear myself out straining against the ropes he’s tied me with. He keeps stroking me, relentless. “You can let go, little bird. I won’t let you fall.”
I don’t want to orgasm like this. It’s too wild, and I’m careening out of control. My muscles cramp as my body tightens. He’s going to force me to climax, and I have no way of stopping him.
He slides a finger inside me. I’ve played with toys, but I’ve never had a partner penetrate me before. I tried, but I never was able to get close to anyone. Until him.
He knows just how to touch me, stroking my inner walls and using plenty of lube to make sure his single finger glides smoothly in and out before he adds a second.
My clit throbs, hungry for more stimulation, but the sensation of his fingers stretching me adds another dimension to my need. Electricity buzzes up and down my spine, my climax building from a deeper place inside me.
“This will be mine,” he tells me. My inner muscles clamp down on his fingers. I’m holding my breath, concentrating on the minute movements of his hand. It’s strange but good. There’s pressure, but it’s not painful yet. And it’s so good, I would welcome some pain to balance it.
He adds another finger, and my eyes water with the stretch. I’m blindfolded, but I can imagine his beautiful face tense with concentration as he fingers me and finds ways to make me feel good.
My stalker, the man who has hunted and killed for me, strokes me to orgasm. Holding me in the palm of his hand. I fight the impending orgasm, but it feels inevitable.
His thumb grazes the needy edge of my clit, and I’m undone. Lightning strikes and sizzles down my limbs. I scream into the gag as pleasure blazes white hot through my mind. I shake in my bindings, out of control.
“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” He sinks his fingers deeper, taking advantage of the pulsing aftershocks to stretch me further.
I haven’t stopped trembling before he sets something smooth and hard at my entrance. It’s bigger than his fingers but glides in with the help of a copious amount of lube.
“A little more training before I take you,” he tells me.
My moan fills my ears. The humming helps me take the intrusion. I clench my inner muscles on the dildo.
Then it begins to vibrate, and I’m shouting all over again.
“Shhh, easy.” He strokes my back. My skin is slick with sweat. “You can take it. You’ll be grateful when it’s my turn.”
The vibrations are low and subtle, enough to begin building my orgasm but not enough to push me over the edge.
“A little warm up.” He scoops up my hair and arranges it over my shoulder, and I know he’s clearing the target for his flogger. The strands strike my ass, the left side and then the right, over and over. He breaks the drumming impact with a few snaps at my shoulders. “You came here to confront me. And then you tell me you’re giving up? I don’t think so.”
I dig my teeth into the gag. It’s not fair that he rigs the game so he can win. Does he need to be able to see into my head as well?