"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun."
Perhaps if you’d have taken heed of the warnings, you wouldn’t be here. How reckless it was to traverse home alone, but it is too late now. She told you at the beginning that she hadn’t decided what to do with you, whether she’d devour your soul with your climax or whether to let you live and keep you as her sex toy. You believe her though, that while you might beg for the latter option, in time you’ll be wishing you chose the first. The way her mouth works you as if she’s known more about your pleasures than you could ever fathom yourself, keeping you shivering non-stop.
Every time your length slips between her lips, you let out a groan of pleasure, the likes of which has never escaped your mouth before. Her tongue wraps around and cradles the head of that pulsating cock as if to let it know that it will never escape. After merely thirty minutes, she has you whimpering in need to come, yet your moans and imploring words do not satiate her nearly as much as the pulse within every vein and each twitch of longing.
No matter how much you ask, she won’t answer just how long she’ll hold you on the brink. All she tells you is that when you do come, it will feel like every orgasm you have ever experienced in your life rolled into one.
She can feel every nerve-ending signal just how close you are, feel the moments when you need a little more friction or speed, even feel the times when you start to pray that she’ll let you fuck her. Perhaps if she had told you, however, that the saliva of her kind could keep you safely erect for hours, that she’d be able to keep sucking you for as long as she wanted, maybe you wouldn’t have been begging to come quite so fast.
I couldn’t help but smirk a little when you first asked. On the phones at work, those brief moments when you managed to prise the details of my sexual appetite from my lips. Perhaps it was the tone, maybe the choice of words, maybe even the way I looked you deep in the eyes as I spoke, but something sparked that fire, that longing. The curiosity kept getting the better of you, asking how I did it to the other girls, where you could watch it, what kinds of toys I used and how I used them. Work was never the suitable place to answer in detail, but I gave you just enough to keep your imagination alight. Finally, once I thought your curiosity had run its course, after such silence on the topic, you asked the question that caused that smile, which you still think of now. How I pictured you teasing and pleasuring yourself to the content I had led you to, wanting to allow you to explore your desires to the fullest. Though I never expected the words to drift from your alluring lips.
Know that every touch, every lick, every nibble, every single action, is designed with you at the centre. There can be nothing more erotic than knowing that everything we do is solely with the intent to make you moan and to make your hips writhe.
Don’t take your eyes off of me for a second. I want you to watch every moment of me very, very slowly sucking your delicate, dripping-wet pussy, knowing you won’t be able to do anything to speed me up. Good girl, raise those hips. I want to feel how much you want more.
There is nothing I love more than eating you out, feasting on that tender delicacy of your sex. To me, it is better than penetration, an intensity that can not be matched, to have your most sensitive little area entirely at my mercy.
How I can control every aspect of what you feel, the tightening of your thighs and the shuddering of your hips letting me know precisely what you are feeling. An act that is solely about pleasuring you, entirely about giving your body what it desires most.
The most erotic action there is – to have my mouth parting your pussy lips, my tongue exploring your wetness, almost able to feel your pussy melt around my maw. There are many terms for it; to go down on you, to eat you out, to perform cunnilingus, oral sex, yet nothing quite captures what I always want to do to you. Your moans and screams simply say it best.
It is all the little things that have such an effect. The way you can pull against those restraints, feeling that little bit of give. That fraction of hope that you can protect yourself, yet ultimately not being able to do so, adding so much more to your helplessness as I torment that most delicate place.
The blindfold keeps your imagination racing; even though you know exactly where I am and what I am doing to you, the darkness lets you fantasise about so much more. Your mind is free to linger on every fine detail of what my mouth unleashes upon your tenderness.
With those panties left on, you have just one little layer of fabric protecting your sex. Of course, the reason I’ve left them on is that I want you to wonder – if it feels this good, this intense now, how is it going to feel when my lips are pressing deeply against your soft, exposed pussy.
All these things come together to devastate every inch of you.