Conversations ✔

Anger

"What are you- hey! Get to-" it was him, and he was now following her inside.

She stripped as fast as she could. Kneeling as he rushed inside.

"No."

"Please..." she dared not to look up. Palms open on her thighs.

"I said no. Now get up."

"I'm not a child!" She yelled, tears staining her warm cheeks.

"You're not a brat either. Now stand and dress, before I really lose my shit." He took a small step forward, his fingers were twitching.

"I dare you." She said, glaring at him through the water crystals in her eyes.

He hummed, almost groaning or growling. His voice had gotten deeper with the years. And she liked it very much, yes.

She felt her braids being fisted and pulled up, and the gasp that escaped her was followed by a subtle moan.

Indeed, she was in control as always.

"I do not like this streak of disobedience in this house. It's getting on my last nerve." He said, and pushed her forward.

Her lips twitched, a smirk trying to escape and betray her act of innocence.

"Get up. I want you there. Legs spread."

"Yes sir." She obliged. Laying her back on the cold surface of plastic leather, it made that sound she found comfort it. Her skin against the material, squeaking.

Her hands were shackled, and so were her ankles. Her throat collared and her mouth gagged.

He wanted to have his way. There was no safe word with a gag involved.

He was aware of his loss of control, and he was trying to get it back the only way he knew how. She allowed it, hoping to make him feel better.

Her moans struggled against her throat as he edged her over and over again. The little monster in his hands, slick with her juices, torturing her until tears emptied and dried.

Her pleas fell on dead ears. The man was calm, resting on the chair he pulled up next to her. Turning on and off the little rose on his hand. Putting his fingers inside, curling them, hitting the right spots, only to retreat after two strokes.

How wet can a girl get? She would find out.
This was a new territory for them both. Unlike when he edges her until he allows her to cum on command, he chose a new form of control. Not letting her enjoy anything long enough to cum.

"I love you both. And you both infuriate me. She should be laying her, instead of you. I want to fucking punish her. Strangle her until she cums and cries. But life isn't that simple, is it?"
His deep voice was not helping her cause. She was exhausted. And she would cum soon, she felt it. But she had been feeling it for almost half an hour now.

Her moans and struggles were futile.

"Ohhhh, you look so gorgeous. Fucking beautiful. You have not aged a day since the first time I met you." And thus, he made a mistake. He licked her belly, nipping at her skin.

That's how she came. Her toes cramped from the effect. The damp surface beneath her thighs, got worse. She heard it before she could comprehend it.

Her wrists strained against the restraints, the pain only heightening her nerves. Making it more blissful.

She bit into her gag and no sound came from her. Only, she stopped breathing and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Euphoria. Was what she could describe it as. She felt her shoulders tense and her stomach somersault.

"Ahhhh, so that's the trick? I always knew your body loved being edged, as much as you hate it. But I admit that I had no idea that enough of it could make you squirt this much. Beautiful little human. Fucking good girl."

Squirt?

Her muscles relaxed, all but those between her legs. Her ass was still straining from the orgasm and her inner thighs were still sprained. Her crotch was twitching as ever and her breath finally returned to her.

Sleep, that's all she wanted. To sleep. Right where she was.

"Now now, we have to wash off all this grime." He untied her and she noted how painfully erect he was within those jeans. He had a wet spot too.

She wanted to protest, that she would shower she woke up, but that required talking, and she could not bring herself to use any muscle on her body.

The after care was always his favourite part, much to her dismay. She wanted to sleep after every session, as she called them. But no, he was in command and his word said she needed to be bathed and kissed.

Always.

She heard them before she saw them, later when she woke up thirsty.

On the couch, he was behind her. Naked and sweaty. She was loving what he was giving her, it seemed. Her forehead creased, her mouth wide open, eyes shut and subtle "yes" whispers.

He was grunting, giving her all he had. His hand on her throat, not with the force he normally preferred. The other holding her small waist and his head lulled back facing the ceiling.

"I'm gonna cum..." she moaned.

And from the corner she stood at, her panties soaked at that voice. At the scene.

A small breath left her body, and she found her fingers on her mouth. Parting her own lips.

"Give it all to me." He groaned, his movements becoming uneven.

She noted that he too was close.

Her lovers, both at the same time, came undone. Sweat made their brown skin glisten under the little lights that peeked through the kitchen blinds.

Her throat betrayed her, she swallowed a moan. Satisfied by the scene she was watching.

And he heard.

"Ohhh, you bad bad girl." He cooed, before his head turned to her. But she could not find herself to shy away from the gaze. In fact, she felt bold, too bold.

"Like what you see?" Her girl beneath his sunken form asked, a coy smile gracing her swollen lips.

"I do." She whispered.

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