Page 76 of The Toy Maker

The gentle strokes of the flogger running over my bare skin caused goosebumps to appear on my limbs. It was hard to believe that just a few hours before I had been moping around my apartment.

Jason’s first strike landed directly against my pussy, and I gasped, the sting sharp but not unbearable.

I whimpered as the leather tips made contact again; this time, the feeling of my arousal dripping down my shaking thighs had me clinging to the edge of my long-awaited orgasm.

I wanted to beg him to let me come, to give me the release I was desperate for, but I could only let out a helpless, muffled whimper.

Jason must have read my mind. “Don’t come until I say so.”

My heart fell as he forbade my release.

Another sharp smack.

I was so close, too close.

One more strike, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back. My fingers curled, my toes dug into the platform beneath me, anything to keep myself from slipping over the edge.

I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted to be good.

But pure bliss was at my fingertips, taunting me.

I pleaded with him through the gag, knowing I just looked like a pathetically deprived mess.

“No.” I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

His refusal sent a fresh wave of frustration through me. But my thoughts were cut short by the sharp, final strike of the flogger against my throbbing cunt. The sting melted into heat, pushing me to the brink of madness.

Every nerve in my body was on fire, every inch of me aching for his permission, his control. And then, just when I thought I might break apart, Jason’s warm hand cupped my swollen, drenched pussy.

I shuddered as his breath cascaded over my neck, warm and teasing.

He didn’t move, didn’t give me what I needed. He just stood there, holding me, letting me drown in unbearable anticipation.

Then he stepped back, leaving me trembling against the cross, my skin flushed and tingling from where he had touched me. The cool air kissed my exposed lips, making me even more aware of how swollen and slick I was.

And then, a deep, rhythmic pulse started inside me.

My eyes shot open behind the blindfold, and a muffled cry escaped the gag. The plug in my ass had come to life, its vibrations teasing me from the inside out.

I was too close already. This was torture.

Jason was watching me, I could feel it—taking in every flinch, every shake, every desperate sound I made.

Bastard. The pulsing increased, each wave stronger than the last, making my legs quiver in the restraints. I fought against it, tried to breathe through it, but then Jason’s hands roamed over me, tracing the curves of my body before settling where I needed him most.

He stroked, teased, pinched my clit between his fingers.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asked as he filled my pussy for the first time since he took me in the basement. I felt my walls clench around his stationary finger; he was trying to drive me completely mad with desire.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond the need to obey.

I nodded frantically, my body surrendering to his will.

Anything. I’d do anything if he just let me come.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

The pitiful noises of my pleading grew louder each time he briefly moved his finger inside me. My body twisted, straining against the cuffs. My wrists ached, my legs trembled, but none of it mattered. I needed him. I needed more.