His mouth closes again over my soaked, over stimulated ripples. He licks and bullies me to a third orgasm, then punishes me with a fourth.
My head disintegrates and my whole body is a marshmallow. I am hot and cold at the same time, my skin slick and clammy. It’s like having the flu. He is going to kill me with orgasms.
‘You think people will pay for this?’
His voice comes from far away. I can’t formulate words. I just grunt.
He pulls out the vibrator from my distended cunt and puts it down.
Next his voice is in my ear and he strokes my hair. ‘Rosie. Rosie, are you there?’
I manage to turn my head to him, but my eyelids are heavy and fluttering. I feel drugged.
‘Come back, come back.’ He brings me slowly into a more recognisable state of consciousness, away from the margins of sleep and dreams. ‘Talk to me. Are you OK?’
‘I’m OK. So tired. I could sleep – right here.’
‘I think this service can be popular,’ he says. ‘I put it on my menu.’
The word ‘menu’ is like a finger snapping in my face – it jolts me back into reality. ‘Menu? You’re like a chef of sex?’
‘Yeah, like that. You don’t think so? Only one problem I have with this service.’
‘What’s that?’
He rises from his crouching position, bringing his crotch to my eye level. It bulges to an uncomfortable degree, its denim hardness brushing my cheek.
‘Oh, I see. Well, I guess your clients might be OK with helping you out with that.’
‘You think?’
‘This one might.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really.’
He smiles down at me and starts unbuckling the belts. When his jeans are unbuttoned, his bulge escapes, cock springing out, pointing an accusation at my mouth.
Despite my tethers, I open wide and let the head glide across my cheek and into my mouth via the side of my lips. I can’t quite manage the classic blow-job angle from this laid-flat position, but Dimitri slips it in and out of my open orifice while I use my tongue to curl around the tip and tease the sensitive underside.
‘Mmm,’ he says, taking hold of it at the root and beginning to wank himself into my mouth. I lick and slurp and sometimes succeed in a suck or two, while he bumps against my lips and teeth, moving deeper, deeper, down inside.
Hot salt liquid spurts down my throat and he pumps fast, hips bucking into the side of my head. I swallow his load and lick his shaft clean, worshipping him in the only way I physically can.
He pulls out and drops down to kiss me, long and hard, tongue down where his cock has been, licking and exploring the taste of him.
‘You are something,’ he says, coming up for air. ‘Really something.’
‘So are you.’
He unlocks me, lets my boneless legs and arms rest for a while before lifting me off the table and sitting with me on his lap in some kind of bondage chair next to it.
‘So then,’ he says, after kissing the top of my head. ‘You want to try that cross thing next?’
Wheezy laughter pours out of me. ‘Maybe next year,’ I say.
‘Our time is up. We need to put the things we use in a bag and take them to the office.’