“Are you wearing heels?”
“High heeled boots.”
He groans. “I’m biting my knuckle, little slave. But take them off. You can put it all back on when I’m done with you. I’ll need you to show me the sexy outfit you picked for me.”
“Yes, Master.” I unzip my boots and pull them off, then strip out of my red panties and bra. “I’m naked, sir.”
“Lie down on the bed, blossom.”
I crawl up on the bed. “Face up or face down, Master?”
“Face… which way do you lie when you touch yourself at home, little slave?”
“Face down.”
“Fuck. Me.”
I laugh a little. It’s not like Pavel to express his torture. He so seldom shows his cards. Could it be that he’s starting to warm up? To open up?
“I want you to lie face down, blossom. Use a pillow if you need it. And I want those fingers between your legs.”
“Yes, Master.” I slide a pillow under my chest and my fingers between my legs.
“Tell me what you feel.”
“I’m already wet, Master,” I confess. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer him, but he’s made so many demands of me during our phone sex that I’ve lost some of my inhibitions. I wouldn’t say I can dirty-talk now, but I can at least respond to his questions.
“Good girl. I need you to keep yourself wet for me but do not come.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You keep that phone on, so I can hear you. If you come before I get there, I will whip you with my belt and leave that pretty pussy empty while I fuck your ass, do you understand?”
I whimper because the threat almost makes me come.
“Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, sir. Yes, I understand.”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Um, I’m rubbing my clit with my middle finger, sir.”
I hear a low rumble of approval. Again, that’s new.
“Good. You get that pussy ready for me because I’m going to need to be inside you the second I get in that room.”
I whimper again.
“Do not come.”
“I won’t,” I say quickly. “I’ll be good, Master.”
“I missed you yesterday, little flower. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to take care of your needs.”
“I… I missed you, too.” It’s hard to talk with how turned on I am. Heat swirls in my pelvis, my swelling clit throbs. My slick folds are soaked and plump, greedy for my touch.
No, greedy for his touch.
“Please,” I murmur.
“No.” His voice is sharp. “Do not make yourself come.”
“I won’t. I need you,” I moan.
I hear the screech of brakes and then the slam of a door. “That pussy belongs to me, blossom. I will be very disappointed if you disobey me this time. I mean it.”
I let out a little cry and pull my hand out from underneath me. “I won’t!”
“Did you stop touching yourself?”
“How do you do that?” I ask, in wonder.
He lets out a soft chuckle. I hear the ding of an elevator. Thank God. He’s close.
“I told you to touch yourself, and that’s what I want you to do.”
I moan. “Yes, sir.” I slide my hand between my legs.
Another ding of the elevator, but this time I hear it both through the phone and down the hall.
“Open the door for me.” His command is even softer—a habit he has. The more intense things get, the softer he goes.
I leap from the bed and throw the door open.
His lips slam down on mine the moment he comes through it. It’s a punishing kiss, his tongue lashing between my lips. He slants his head one way, then the other, then back to the first direction.
He walks me backward to the bed, capturing my wrists in his hands. He lifts them over my head, bending to suck one nipple.
“Please!” I cry out. I’m already so desperate to come.
“No.” He sounds so firm it’s almost angry, but I know by the prodding of his thick erection against my belly that he’s in as much pain as I am right now.
He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh.
“P-please. Pavel!”
His lids droop. “Master.”
“Master!”
He kisses me again, still holding my wrists high above my head. “I love it when you beg, sweet flower. Take my cock out.” He frees my hands and goes to work on my nipples, squeezing and rolling them between his fingertips.
I work the buckle on his belt, my fingers shaking. Opening it, I unbutton his trousers and lower the zipper. His cock bulges through the gap, straining to be free. I push his boxer briefs down to wrap my hand around it. “Master, may I please suck your cock?”
I revel in the shudder that runs through him. The surge of his cock in my hand.
“Wet it.” The command is gravelly and deep.
I drop to my knees, gripping the root of his cock. Licking my lips to moisten them, I stroke his cock from root to tip then slide his mushroom head into my mouth. I take him in slowly, tasting a drop of his salty essence as I swirl my tongue on the underside of his length.