Hello Crawlers, it’s Wednesday again so a good excuse for a little slice of mid-week kink. Where better than the Dungeon. My post for this week continues Freya and Nick’s visit to Room Nine at their favourite BDSM club. It’s from Hard Choices and I’m picking up right where I left off last week, so if you wanted to recap the previous post it’s here. Now, onward and upward…
At last, though, the waves of sensual energy subside, and I remember his instructions for how this is to continue. I go still, willing my body not to respond, not to urge or squeeze or otherwise attempt to effect proceedings. My reward? He slows his movements right down. He’s frustratingly slow, but his angle of penetration is unerring with every stroke, rubbing my G-spot mercilessly. I’m conscious of only that, and I spread my legs wider, planting the soles of my feet on the mattress below me, my hands unrestrained beside my head as I concentrate on trying hard not to move. With a wry grin of amusement Nick slips his hand between our bodies to stroke my clit. I close my eyes, start to arch, but his low growl warns me to restrain myself. He’s doing this on purpose—I know he is—to test me. And I am sorely out of practice at controlling my orgasms of late.
Nevertheless, I manage to contain myself, at least for a while, chewing my bottom lip anxiously as the sensations mount. Despite his ridiculously slow thrusting, the impact is devastating, each stroke reaching deep and sure, filling me totally. I feel the familiar bubbling of impending orgasm, and I’m sure I can’t hold back much longer. I open my eyes, searching his face for any sign he may be approaching his own climax, but all I see is a knowing, sardonic smirk.
“Is there something you’d like to ask me, little slut?” The words are soft, his tone low and sexy.
I nod, start to lift my hands, but he takes both my wrists gently in his hands.
“No hands. Let me give you a clue…” He leans down, kisses me lightly, tracing the outline of my lips with his tongue before dropping his head farther to take my nipple in his mouth. Again I arch, and this time he bites me, not hard, but enough to remind me of my instructions. It’s a huge effort now to lie still under him, but I manage it, panting as every cell and every nerve ending clenches ready to burst into orgasmic life.
He lifts his head, and again he’s poised above me, his cock relentlessly sliding slowly, deeply inside me. I look up at him, and he smiles at me again. “If you want to come, you’ve only to ask me.”
I frown, baffled. My hands are gently secured, he’s instructed me not to move or squeeze or attempt to speed things up. How, then?
By way of answer he leans in and gently brushes his lips over mine again, and I suddenly remember. Way back, before the debacle with Dan, before he sent me away and then brought me back again, he taught me how to ask for an orgasm without words or hand signals. I blow him a kiss. He lifts one eyebrow, and winks at me before shifting gear.
And suddenly he’s pumping into me hard, each thrust now jolting me off the mattress. He releases my hands, and I take that as a signal that I’m free to move, to respond. It doesn’t take long—moments later I’m spasming again around his rigid cock, my legs locked behind his waist as he continues to pound into me. My climax is powerful, twisting my senses to send me spinning out of control again. And he’s right there with me this time. His cock twitches hard as he stiffens then surges forward for one last, powerful plunge. His growled “Holy fuck…” is the only sound I can hear above the furious beating of my own heart as we cling to each other and wait for the storm to pass.
Eventually, Nick rolls to one side, withdrawing from me. He turns to pull me into his arms.
“You okay, gorgeous? Worth the wait? Both times?”
I nod, kiss his chest and take this opportunity to nuzzle his small, flat nipples. He kisses the top of my head, rubbing my shoulder blades with one hand while he caresses my bottom with the other. Long, easy, relaxed moments pass as we lie still, savouring each other, enjoying the sensual aftermath of pleasure shared. Then, his voice low and sexy, he leans down to murmur in my ear, “I love you, Freya.”
…and finally, this is a blog hop. Sorry, crawl. This means you get to slither around to visit all the other fabulous excerpts which you do by jumping onto the cute little froggy chap below and he’ll take you right there. He’s nice like that.