His mouth lowered on my nipple, wet and warm. His teeth scraped against that too-sensitive flesh, while his fingers continued their ministrations on my other breast. I thrashed my head from side to side as longing coursed through my heated blood.
One hand dipped lower and cupped my mound. I resisted the urge to thrust my pelvis and grind against his palm. “So wet, Jenny,” he teased, feeling the soaked fabric. “I think your panties must be quite ruined. I feel less guilty about cutting them off.”
I grinned at that. His tone had been playful and entirely unrepentant. He wasn’t staying up nights worrying about my panties, that much was clear. “I can tell, Sir,” I retorted, unable to hold it back.
His palm stroked my cheek. I flinched instinctively, waiting for the backhand to my face. But it didn’t come. His fingers didn’t hurt. They caressed. Exactly as he had promised.
I breathed a little easier. A little bit of the fear that lay like an ever-present cloud over my head lifted. A small gleam of warmth entered.
“Have you ever played with a Hitachi before, Jenny?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “What is it?”
“A vibrator. Not any old vibrator though, a powerful one.” I heard a buzzing come nearer. I felt a pulsing touch on my nipple that sent answering throbs of desire through my body.
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, Sir,” I wailed. I wriggled, trying to inch away from that torture. Or was I trying to push into it? I couldn’t tell.
“So responsive,” he said. I heard the satisfied purr in his voice. “So very responsive.”
He ran the vibrator everywhere except my mound. My jaw. My midriff. Everywhere until I was futilely humping the air in front of him, needing to feel that intense vibration against my clitoris.
“Patience, baby,” he soothed. I heard the smile in his voice.
He tortured me for endless minutes. When I was sobbing with need, he finally inched the Hitachi down to my *, holding it slightly away from me. My breathing hitched. I had never wanted my panties gone as much as I did at this minute. “Please Sir,” I begged.
The sharp cold steel grazed against my hip, and I heard the blades of the scissors slice through my expensive lace underwear. Finally.
“I want you to come for me, Jenny,” his voice instructed. There was a hoarse note to it now, a fragmenting of control as he watched me react to his touch. The vibrator ground into me, whirring against my core. I felt a tightening of my muscles as I responded to that strong pulse. I pushed into it, I pulled away from it. My wrists rattled at their bindings, my legs thrashed as my knees threatened to buckle.
I screamed as my climax ripped through me.
It lasted forever. He didn’t pull off the vibrator, holding it against me until I remembered to choke out ‘yellow.’ Then he moved it away instantly and removed my blindfold.
I panted as my body slowly cooled from that sensory overload. My eyes slowly focused on Alexander, who was surveying me with a little smile on his face. “Thank you,” I breathed out.
He grinned openly at that. “Do you think we are done?” he asked. “After just one orgasm? No, no. Take a moment to recover, and we’ll get going again. Do you want a drink of water?”
“Yes please,” I said gratefully. He went to a small refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a bottle of spring water, opening it and holding it at my lips for me to drink. I took a long sip before nodding at him.
My orgasm had relaxed me. I beamed at him as I waited for what he had in store for me next. If it involved another all-encompassing orgasm, I was game.
He brushed another kiss at my lips and ran his fingers through my hair. “More water?” he asked.
“I’m good,” I replied. “What now?”
“Fewer questions, cherie,” he rebuked lightly. He freed me from my restraints and helped me over to a narrow padded bench. He positioned me so that I was draped over it. My legs were once again spread and bound, this time to the legs of the bench.
My breath caught. Perhaps he would fuck me now. Or perhaps he would let me suck his dick. I’d never yet been allowed that and I craved it. Denial had stoked the flames of desire in me even higher.
He approached me with a pair of nipple clamps. “Have you had these on you before?”
I nodded silently.
“If you want them, you’ll have to ask,” he instructed.
Did I want this? At Madame Lorraine, the clamps had pinched, but each tug sent a wave of lust through my body. It had been the most pleasurable kind of pain.
When William and Karen had evaluated me just prior to Madame Lorraine’s auction, I’d imagined Alexander’s hands on me when they’d fastened the clamps on my breasts. I’d transported myself into a fantasy where his voice was urging me to behave. Encouraging me. Telling me how desirable he found me.
Now, he was actually here. The clamps dangled from his fingertips and I was ready for this. “Please put them on me,” I beseeched from my bent-over position.