“Now, tell me, Vesp. Tell me how your pussy feels,” he commands.
I'm hyperventilating so hard it's difficult to get any words out. He gives the twine a sharp tug that pinches at the soft skin of my neck.
I open my mouth, but the words stubbornly won't come out. They squeeze my throat, my mind strangling the body, fighting the disloyalty it displays every time this man touches me.
He bends me over the table again, the icy surface shocking my skin. His warm, soft tongue and lips are just as terrifying a weapon as the knife when they make a slave out of me with no threat. I moan and pucker my hips against the rhythmic lapping and sucking of his tongue. My mind and body begin to melt into one, the body snuffing out the protests of the mind. There is so little good down here. So few moments of pleasantness or pleasure. Of contact. Warmth. Excitement. This is one of them. It's wrong. It's weak minded. But my mind and body are weary. They just want to remember what it was like to feel at peace and not waging a constant battle.
So I let myself slip into a state of complete arousal. Not just passively accepting his mouth, but actively enjoying its adventures. And just when I do, proof I am certain, that he can in fact peep into my mind: he stops and pulls me halfway up.
“Tell me how it feels.”
My pride awakens, strapping in for another fight. It's one thing to silently accept that pleasure. To play with myself during a dream or let myself enjoy his tongue inside of me. It's another to say it. It's the ultimate act of voyeurism, to force himself to hear my feelings, my secret thoughts.
My pussy throbs, again being close to the highest of pleasure during a time when I am at my lowest. But I can't.
He lets go of the rope suddenly, so that I fall forward onto the table. The soft sound of his footsteps head away from me. He's going to leave me here, bound, for I don't know how long. So that I can't even relieve myself of the heat that has built between my legs.
I turn my face towards him. His bare, muscled back and ass are shaded by the shadows of the dark space. The shiny blade extends from his hand, and for a moment he looks like an ancient warrior. “Wait! Wait! Please don't leave.”
He keeps walking, about to approach the corner and disappear.
“It—it feels good. It feels so good,” I call out through a tense throat. My stomach twists in a mixture of arousal and humiliation. He stops, but he doesn't turn back.
“My pussy is throbbing. It feels like—like I'm hot and there's a cool wave coming my way and it's just right there…right about to crash over me. But I need you to do it. Your lips and mouth…I did almost come that night in my house. It scared me. I used to think about you. I didn't know it was you. But you saw me at the library, right? And I thought you had the most incredible eyes. And I thought of looking into them instead when I fucked Carter. I think you're a sick fuck. But maybe that's irrelevant because I'm here, and…” I almost chuckle through my stuffy voice.
Before I can finish, he's striding towards me. He yanks me up to my feet by the twine and spins me, so that I'm face to face with those piercing eyes.
“I want to see you,” I mutter.
He shakes his head, his eyes colder than the metal table edging into my ass.
He grips his cock in one of his hands. Like him, it is unforgiving and brutal as it savagely burrows into me. I let out a cry from deep within as he pistons his hips. I'm grateful that my arms are tied, because if they weren't I'd wrap them around this man who is filling me—the ultimate betrayal to everything I ever thought of myself. But my legs are free, and without seeking my permission, one wraps around his warm bare leg. His slick chest slips against my breasts as he grinds against me.
I moan, allowing myself complete abandon. He has stripped away so much of me that it's impossible to feel shame in front of him at this point. He is my shame. He owns that too.
I want to call out a name, but I have nothing.
“Who are you?” I cry.
“The Night,” he rasps.
I let my body collapse around the sensation of him inside of me, resting my face against the curve of his neck. His smell, a heady dose of masculinity, intoxicates me, allowing me to get completely lost in The Night. It's his firm arms that hold me together as I increasingly go weak around the swollen cock inside of me.