“All right,” I say, simply. I touch her lower, deeper. The tenseness in her body eases up, but I keep my tone even. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Your orgasms aren’t your responsibility anymore. I’m not going to give you an orgasm because I say it’s not time for one. You’re not ready. But I’m still going to give you pleasure. I want to, and it’s my call, not yours.”
She holds my gaze, curious.
“I will make you come eventually, but you won’t know when. That’s up to me.”
“I get no say?”
I manage not to smile, but the interest in her voice gives legs to some theories I’ve been playing with. Maintaining an authoritative tone, I tell her, “You get no say. Your pleasure is my domain now. When I tell you it’s time, when I tell you to come for me, you will. No fighting me, no stalling, you obey me without question.”
She bites down on her lower lip, considering, then asks, “What if I don’t?”
“You will,” I say simply.
“You can’t just tell a person to have an orgasm. That’s not how orgasms work.”
I grin, circling her clit with my thumb. “Do you really presume to tell me how orgasms work, Mia?”
She’s too overcome by the sensations washing over her to respond.
“I’m still going to give you pleasure,” I tell her again, as I rub her sweet little pussy. “But gentle pleasure. I won’t make you come. I’ll bring you right to the edge and stop. Then I’ll do it again, and again, and again.”
Just my words seem to excite her. “That sounds like torture.”
Pleasure hums through me and I smile again. “Exquisite torture. But I think it’ll get you through whatever the hell this is.”
“Is that your professional opinion?” she asks lightly, eyes still closed.
“It is,” I shoot back, rubbing her until she can’t even moan properly. Her eyes open and she gives me a desperate little look like she wants to tell me to stop. I raise my eyebrows, challenging her to do so.
She doesn’t, but her fingers dig into my bicep as she struggles to resist the orgasm I’m building. Her legs shake, her nails bite into my skin. I don’t stop. I haven’t given her enough orgasms to have the level of mastery over her body I’d like to, but she has to know she can trust me—in this, at least. I have to see if she’ll fight for control when I’m about to do what she asked me not to, or submit and let me do whatever I want.
She submits. I’m pushing her too close to the edge, she’s afraid, but she doesn’t try to take control. If I push her over a line she’s not ready to cross, even if it breaks her mind, she’ll let me.
I ease off. She settles down. Her eyes close and I caress her some more, rewarding her with calm, steady pleasure. Now she’s content as a kitten. I’ve convinced her I know what I’m doing and now I’m making her feel good without the threat of escalating it past a level she’s comfortable with. Without the burden of responsibility, she can now drift along on a sea of pleasure, accepting whatever I dole out.
I watch her face as I start to kindle another orgasm. Her little noises slay me. Her fingers dig into my bedding, leaving impressions that will last long after she’s gone. Maybe not in the fabric, but in my mind.
As her pleasure nears its peak this time, she accepts the euphoric feelings without fear, without shame. She already trusts me not to make her come. I don’t know why she trusts me with anything, but I run with it.
I deny her orgasms four times before she can’t take it anymore. Not bad for her first time. As I pull her back from the brink, though, her whole body trembles and she drags her hands desperately down over her face.
I withdraw my fingers, readjusting my weight, and lean in to kiss her. She’s more pliable than she’s been before. She wraps her legs around my hips, still aroused and coasting on a blissed out but sexually frustrated wave of affection.
Oh yeah, I’m gonna own her. When I do make her come after all this, it will be the most intense orgasm she’s ever had. She’s already open and vulnerable, easily controlled by sex, but that’s going to be a game changer.
I can’t help thinking about those nights in Vince’s bedroom, the last time I gave Mia orgasms. Now she knows I’m the one in bed with her, but she still has her legs locked around me, her soft lips still open for me. Even after all I’ve done to her.
I reach down to caress her breast as I kiss her. Her back arches naturally, pushing her breast into my hand. I give it a squeeze, brushing my thumb across her nipple. She inhales sharply, her lips breaking from mine. I smile against her mouth, running the rough pad of my thumb over her sensitive, pebbled nipple a few more times.