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“What does it feel like?”

“It feels like it’s ready for you at any moment.” I’m not lying. Even though I cleaned myself up, I’m still so damned aroused. I don’t want this to end. I want Ira to stop playing around and slam herself in there. I’m so open. So ready.

So tied down and ready to accept whatever she gives me.

It doesn’t matter… because anything she gives me? It’s for me. It’s a part of her. She’s sharing herself as much as I am baring my soul and fears.

“And…” Ira looks at me, her bemusement at my sudden words too beautiful to capture. “My cunt is really empty.”

She leans down, leaning over me, playing with the ribbons in my corset. One by one they come untied, my breasts spilling from their cups. Ira pinches one nipple and makes me hiss through my teeth. “Cunt, huh? Is that what you want to call it?”

“You can call it whatever you want, Mistress.”

“Oh, I’ve got lots of names for these.” Her thumb tugs at my opening, my slick folds exposing how wet I still am. The scent is so powerful that I almost turn my nose away. It’s not just me. It’s her scent, too. An intoxicating scent that reminds me of what we’re here to do and accomplish. “I’ve got one too, if you haven’t astutely noticed. I also like to call mine my cunt. It bites, doesn’t it? It’s powerful. Makes the assholes quiver in their weak knees. Women gasp, men narrow their eyes. Because how dare we take that kind of ownership of our bodies?”

Ira looks into my eyes as her thumb crushes my clit. I writhe beneath her, a squeal of pleasure emanating from my body.

She pulls her hand back. “Sensitive, is it? Considering how hard you came – when you weren’t supposed to – I am not surprised.” Her thumb grinds back into it, and I’m gasping, my body unable to process this sudden stimulation. “Serves you right.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. I don’t know if I’m supposed to speak, but I take a chance.

Ira unbuttons her shirt and shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor before bending down to kiss my toe wiggling in the air. Her binder is close enough to the color of her flesh that I barely notice it. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be.”

Oh, Lord. I am going to need mercy.

“You only have one command.” Ira climbs onto the bed and settles between my legs, hand covering my mound. “Try to come. It’s not going to be easy.”

I know it’s not. She’s going to deny me as part of my punishment.

Sure enough, my torture begins.

Chapter 41

Kathleen

Ira is a remarkable expert. She knows how to stroke my clit, to work her fingers around the entrance of my slit until I’m squirming for release. It serves me right. This is what I get for daring to come without permission earlier. Ira is no longer going to go easy on me. I disobeyed. I am training to be her sub, and that means I need to obey to get what I want.

Namely, her.

“If you can come, my darling,” she says while circling my clit and backing off as I am about to come, “I will fuck you until you understand that I am the only one in the world who can make you feel like this.”

She’s still not going to make it easy.

Especially when she looks at me like that, looming over me, half-naked and so perfect. Or at least I think so in my haze of wanting to come all over her hand.

Sometimes her fingers slip inside. I am so wet and spread that it’s nothing for her. Yes, Ira, with her strong fingers, can still disappear inside of me without a bit of resistance. The S-word falls off my lips as she finger fucks me, hard enough to make my knees bob up and down near my head. She doesn’t touch my clit until she pulls out and flicks it.

This is torture. Orgasm continues to build inside of me, but for minutes I’ve been denied climax. I’m squirming. I’m whining. I’m begging her with my eyes and the bite of my lips to finish the job.

She said that if I came, she would fuck me like that again.

Yet. She. Won’t. Let. Me. Every time I reach the tipping point, her fingers pumping in and out of me with varying speeds and rubbing my sensitive clit, she stops and laughs at my tortured reaction. The more she fucks me, the more I hear that melodic sound of my body accepting her, begging her to fill me and have her way with me.

I can’t stop trying to come. You’d think I would fall over the edge at some point, but Ira knows – she knows – when exactly to pull out or stop rubbing my clit. It doesn’t help that she’s giving me that smug demeanor I hate so much. She knows what she’s doing to me. She knows how much I want her to claim me again.

She must know how much I want to please her.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Ira keeps her fingers inside of me this time, although they do not move. I look down, my mound gleaming in wetness and her fingers plunged in to the third knuckle. All she has to do is curl them and hit me where it counts… “Do you understand what I want from now on?”