“More! More!” I beg. My body craves this like a drug addict in withdrawal. I try to raise my bare hips to meet him, but the ropes dig into my flesh, rubbing and tearing the skin. “I don’t think you can handle more,” Thomas says. I whimper. “Please, Sir. Please give me more.” “That’s it, baby, beg for me,” he answers in a low voice, his fingers teasing my entrance and making me even wetter. “Please, Sir! Please give it to me!” “How much do you need it?” he draws this out. He slips one finger into me and I moan. He slowly moves it and I try to make him go faster, thrusting my hips to meet his hand. His other arm pins me down, restraining my movements. “How much do you need it?” he repeats, sliding a second finger in. “VERY!” I cry out. A third finger enters and he starts to move them faster. “Tell me how you want me to give it,” he growls. “GIVE IT TO ME ROUGH!” I holler.