Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
If I’d realized there could be so much objectification in science, I might’ve majored in that instead of business.
Wait.
Had he asked me something?
Shoot.
It got easier to follow along without getting distracted when he stopped playing with the front of my pants, but when he picked up the cushion again, my brains went right back out the window.
“I…” He’d asked…he’d asked about cum. Yes. “I don’t know how much is left in me, Master.”
God, the things I ended up saying around him…he was incredible.
He frowned for a moment, making me want to squirm and apologize for not producing enough cum, but before I could find the words, he perked up again. “That’s okay, pet. We’ll just see this as another aspect of the experiment. This will help us to know how many orgasms it takes to drain you and make sure you’re just having dry orgasms.”
God, that would be…
How many times could he make me dry orgasm out in public before it wasn’t dry anymore?
My brain got stuck on that question and it kept going around like a broke carousel, whirling around and around. He must’ve realized I was slightly broken because he just chuckled and shook his head like I was a naughty little.
Which didn’t help my stuck brain at all.
As the humiliating images whirled in my head, he set the cushion down between my legs and started moving me around. “Let’s try it this way, pet. That way I don’t have to miss the good parts of the movie while we’re experimenting.”
No, that might’ve been the most perfectly humiliating part of the night.
I was never going to be able to recount every perfect moment like I knew Conner would demand. There were just too many to keep track of. It was…god, it got even better. As I settled between his legs, backward this time so I was leaning against the couch with his body wrapped around me, he pushed my shirt up. “Let’s get you warmed up, pet.”
Turning the movie back on, he pinched my nipples, plucking at them distractedly as he went back to watching the movie. There was a tiny part of my brain that was pushing to remind me that it was all for the scene, but the way he basically ignored me as he went about finishing his science experiment had my dick desperate to get hard again.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible after two orgasms already, but the whole scene was perfect and my dick and imagination both loved it.
As the movie approached a tense part and the music intensified, Master Jared tugged at my nipples and gave them just enough of a twist that I moaned and shivered as the heated pleasure fired through me. He was…he was diabolically perfect.
Kissing my cheek, he gave my nipples a distracted pat. “Shh, pet. Be a good slut for me and let me watch the movie.”
Dead.
I was dead.
Puddle of cum on the floor dead.
All that was left of me was a hard dick flopping around like a dead chicken.
Words got stuck in my throat, so I nodded and pressed my lips together to hold back the desperate sounds that tried to escape.
If anyone had ever told me that being hushed would somehow be the most erotically humiliating moment of my life, I’d have never believed them. I’d always thought I’d obsessed over every fantasy that would turn me on, but clearly, Master’s brain was much more devious than mine.
Just having to wait there in silence as he absentmindedly played with my nipples with the only intent being to make my dick hard for science left me shaking. I could almost feel everything getting foggier as the pleasure and humiliation grew.
Every whimper that escaped was met with the same peck on the cheek and admonishment to be a good, quiet slut for him. Each polite reprimand pushed the need in me higher until I finally relaxed into the frustrating pleasure and everything else drifted away.
I lost track of where we were in the movie and how many times he lovingly reminded me to be good for him, but when he finally released one painfully oversensitive nipple and stroked his hand down my chest, it took me entirely too long to realize what he was doing.
The fog in my brain thinned as his hand caressed my erection, giving it the same distracted attention. Sometimes he would pat it, sometimes he went back to the slow stroke down the length. When the movie got tense again, he just made gentle circles over the tip that left me shaking and whimpering.
I couldn’t decide if it was too much attention to the oversensitive head or if it wasn’t enough painful pleasure. Part of me said it would be enough to come if he just grabbed me harder, but the part that couldn’t figure out if I loved the attention or not could only marvel at how the painful pleasure would feel.