My mouth went dry. The thing looked more like a sterile surgical implement than a sex toy, its metal surface gleaming in the low light. “Is that... platinum?”
“It was that or the twenty-four karat gold, and that one seemed a bit ostentatious.” He grinned down at me. “What do you say?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” I waggled my fingers in their binding. “Being on top... that doesn’t sound very submissive.”
“Would you like me to prove you wrong?” There was a delicious warning in his voice, a promise that he would indeed prove me wrong, and I would be a very sorry— and a very happy— woman while he was doing it.
“Please do. Sir. Please prove me wrong.” I deliberately swiped my tongue over my top lip.
The hand at my jaw suddenly gripped my chin. He gave me a gentle shake, but his hold was firm, surprising me. “Kneel on the bed.”
I did as I was told, my needy cunt weeping in desperation. He sat down beside me and reached for me. I guess I’d never realized how hard it would be to balance without using my arms. I was glad he was there to steady me. He pulled me to straddle his lap, and I tried to inch forward on my knees to position the head of his cock against me.
“No.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me with him as he scooted us up the bed. Then, lying back, he jerked my hips down, bringing me flush against his erection. The lips of my sex parted around his shaft. I shifted on him, sliding back and forth. My clit was swollen and aching, the only relief the pressure of his cock under me. I was almost embarrassed at how wet I was; I was dripping on his cock, and my thighs were sticky. The lubrication made every sensation more sleek and purposeful, and I felt my long-denied orgasm building, trying to hold back my moans so he wouldn’t know until it was too late.
“Are you going to come?” he asked, grabbing my hips and holding me captive.
“Please,” I practically sobbed, caught on the razor thin edge of my release. “Please, I have to!”
“You will,” he soothed, leaning up to reach between us. Slowly, he eased the head of his erection into me. He reached for the vibrator and turned it on, pressing the cool, smooth metal against my clit as he thrust upward, filling me completely.
That was all it took, and I was screaming, gasping and writhing on him as my pussy gripped him in erratic waves of pleasure that shook my entire body. Pops of light burst behind my eyelids. The vibration from the thin wand was surprisingly strong, and I lifted up to escape, to get a moment’s reprieve from the sensation I had been dying for only moments ago.
“I seem to remember you saying that this position wasn’t submissive?” He taunted, reaching up to clamp a firm hand over the nape of my neck. He pulled me down hard, and with no way to catch myself I was at his mercy. He held me tight against his chest, lifting his hips to pound into me deeper, faster. The vibrator was trapped between us, lying along the length of my clit, nudging and sliding with every thrust, the buzzing never letting up. I twisted my hands in their binding. My nails dug into my palms. I was going to come again, oh god, I was going to come again, and there was no way to prevent it, no way to squirm from the sensation with his knees up behind me and his arms locked around my back. Tension drew my head back, tightened my body like a bowstring, and I climaxed with a long, pinched wail.
Neil laughed, breathless, never letting up the long, brutal strokes, never removing the vibrator that had become an instrument of torture. “Do you still feel you have too much control?”
“No! No, Sir!” I panted in time to his thrusts, nearly hyperventilating. My cunt was swollen and pillowy from my orgasms, my flesh impossibly tight around him. My lungs ached. My hair was plastered to my sweaty forehead. When had I worked up a sweat?
I was caught in a never-ending loop of stimulation, swinging from too much to not enough to fully satisfied and back again, over and over. I lost count of how many times I came, lost track of what I said or did. I know I pleaded with him, but the words “yes,” and “no,” and “please,” and “no more!” shed all meaning, becoming a despairing, triumphant litany. “Red” was constantly in the back of my mind, but I didn’t want to stop, not really. Or did I? I couldn’t tell.
His thighs slapped against my ass, the obscene sound driving my arousal higher as he pumped into me.