Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry I happen to have some morals,” he rasps, his back arching, his firm rear pushing against my hands.
I bite my lip, resisting the urge to bite his cheeks instead.
“Or was it just about humiliation?” I ask. “Was that your goal?”
“You don’t wear humility well,” he says.
“Do you? Can I humiliate you instead? Or will that only excite you?”
“Everything you do excites me,” he says gruffly.
I wet the cloth again and come around the front, touching everywhere except his cock, which is practically begging for attention. “And if I don’t let you come from that excitement, what then?” I tease.
He growls, practically snarling at me. He’s so painfully aroused that it seems cruel to leave him like this.
So, I decide to torture him some more, in my own way.
I reach down and run the cloth over his cock from root to tip, feeling the heat in my hand, the heavy weight of it. He lets out a rough yelp, one choked with need.
“Just making sure you’re clean enough for my mouth,” I tell him.
He whimpers with frustration, and it makes me squeeze my legs together. I need to stay focused on denying him, not giving into my own needs.
I grab the oily soap, running it all over his body, leaving his cock and his rear for last. I wipe my palm over the fatty bar until my skin is slick, and then make a fist over his cock, give it two hard, firm shakes.
“God!” Priest cries out, bucking against my hand.
I quickly let go before he has a chance to come.
“Demon woman,” he growls at me.
I can only grin, relishing in the power rolling through me. I love submitting to this man, but it does feel good to have him submit to me for once.
Then, I rub the washcloth over it and bend down. Without touching his cock, I run the tip of my tongue over the rigid underside before dipping into the slit at his tip, tasting the salt of the ocean.
Priest is swearing again, a string of curses that would make any pirate blush, and his whole body is strained, muscles bulging, veins standing out from his flushed skin.
“Had enough?” I say.
“Yes,” he groans.
“Beg for me.”
But he doesn’t. Not for this.
“Very well.”
I soak the cloth in the water and go around to his rear, wet between his cheeks with the cloth so that he’s clean enough to eat from, though he already seemed sparkling clean before. Then I take the bar of soap and slide it up and down through the crack. His muscles tense, and he lets out a sharp hiss.
“Do you like that?”
“No,” he says but somehow, I don’t believe him.
“Are you telling me to stop?” I ask, concentrating the tip of the bar on his entrance, making it slick and slippery.
He swallows audibly, practically panting now. “No.”
That’s what I thought.
I rub my fingers along the bar and then slowly penetrate the ring of muscle.
“Oh God,” he calls out, head going back. “Oh, fuck.”
I smile to myself and start working my fingers inside, pumping them in and out like they’re a cock. I watch as they disappear between the cheeks of his rear, watch as his muscles bunch, how he’s standing on his toes, splayed and straining, his calves corded.
I don’t think I’ll ever be in such a position of power again.
I take it for all I’ve got.
I keep working him, and he’s crying out, breathing hard, rough, inaudible sounds falling from his open mouth. I peer around him to see his cock bobbing with the movement, swollen and angry-looking, dying to be touched.
I know I’m torturing him now.
I won’t let him come.
But then he surprises me.
He shouts out my name like a desperate prayer, and he comes anyway. He grunts as his cock jerks, and long ropes of his cum spurt out of the tip, arcing into the air and slashing across the wooden floor. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to come without anything touching his cock, but Priest has always been full of surprises.
“Fuck,” he groans, hanging his head, his entire body going limp in the chains. “What did you just do to me?”
I pick up the wet washcloth again and go back to cleaning him, his body jolting at my touch, still sensitive. “Believe you me, my intention was not to let you come.”
“I know it was,” he rasps. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Apparently,” I comment, making sure all the soap is thoroughly washed away.
Then, I step back and stare into his eyes. I expect to see them heavy and sated, but instead, they are as wild as ever.
“Now that you’ve done the courtesy of defiling me,” he says, “perhaps you’ll let me out of these chains.” He pauses. “So I can do the same to you.”