“Tonight it contains an organic mixture that emulates the taste of semen, but with a touch of vanilla, cocoa and sugar on top of it. Dana thinks it"s like tasting a man"s cock and warm sugar cookies at once. Many women have a sexual response to chocolate or sugar, so it drives your arousal higher. That, and I also included a chemical composition similar to pheromones that"s teasing your nose even now.” God, it was turning her on beyond belief, to be spread open for his pleasure, having him calmly explaining these things to her, holding all the control, the reins on her pleasure. K&A"s boy genius…who in no way reminded her of a boy in this moment.

God, to imagine that he was creating such things…her brain couldn"t process it, but her mouth didn"t need it. She was licking and sucking at the cock now as if it was his, unable to stop herself, wanting to show him how she could pull that secretion from it, the way she wanted to pull it from his cock. Though he was turned toward her legs, she was sure his body was twisted enough to watch her face as well. The near-bruising hold of his hand on her upper thigh told her she was delivering her message, loud and strong.

“You"re making me sorry I didn"t load that chamber. If I"d decided to do that, a little while before I came here, I would have lain on my bed, gripped my cock and thought of you. I"d imagine you above me, held in a rope suspension system. You"d be completely restrained, but cradled without discomfort. Like a constellation floating over my bed, or one of those mobiles that babies play with.” A touch of amusement entered his voice, but then a raw note of lust pushed that aside.

“I"d be able to see every part of you. The arch of your throat, those needy eyes, the way the rope bit into that soft, round ass of yours. I"d be imagining all that as I jerked off. You"d be begging me to take you down, fuck you. As you begged, your cream would drip from your cunt and splash onto my stomach. I"d bring you down eventually, fuck you at my leisure. But I"d keep you tied and suspended, helpless to however I wanted to move you on my cock. Hard and fast, slow and deep, while I suckled your tits and stroked every inch of your beautiful body.” Rachel made another incoherent plea in the darkness. Please touch me. God, touch me.

Her body under the shelter of his was quaking, near convulsions, and she knew there had to be perspiration gleaming on her skin. His fingers whispered over her abdomen, but she wanted so much more than that. Yet still he kept talking.

“Tonight I only brought that gag and the restraints, but I have another device. It"s small, but very powerful. It looks like a thumb and a forefinger joined closely together.

The finger part goes into your pussy, positioned at that elusive G-spot, so I have to adjust it for each woman"s unique shape. The thumb portion lies on the clit. There"s a joining hinge that clamps down on the labia, holding them in place with a pinch, but the right kind. Usually running my tongue around it eases that, gets the mind in a different place.”

She was sure of that. Her mind was going in forty different directions now. In a moment, it was going to shatter into forty million. Her body couldn"t take this overload, and so far he was merely talking to her. Since she couldn"t have a climax, she"d die from the despair of containing this much pleasure with nowhere to release it.

“When I set the control right, the finger moves inside you, a sweep, a curl.” His forefinger moved on her thigh now, a random, small series of movements, no more than an inch in any direction, up and back, side to side, then in semicircular curls. “The thumb strokes your clit, pushes up under the hood, because I don"t put it on until you"re wildly excited. Almost where you are now.”

His fingers slid back to the juncture of her thigh, traced the labia, not touching the clit. Her body bucked against the restraints. She had no control of it, and she made a guttural noise against the gag, squeezing down on it, suckling fiercely. That provocative sugar-and-semen taste awakened her taste buds again.

“I didn"t bring that piece with me, because this first time you"re going to come from my touch, nothing else.”

She couldn"t. She"d tried to tell him. Then she arched against his touch, crying out against the gag as two of his fingers slid inside her, his thumb sliding into place over her clit.

“Fuck, you"re hot and wet, Rachel. You"re making my cock ache for you.” She wanted him there too, but he"d gagged her, tied her down, told her all the choices were his. As if underscoring it, he spoke again. “You prove to me you can obey your Master this time, next time it will be my cock. But you have to work for that. You have to trust me, surrender to me. Let go of the fears, the worries. Your body is made for pleasure. It"s begging for it. Don"t let your fear deny it.” She couldn"t help it. How many nights had she gotten herself so worked up, imagining a faceless Master? Then, once he"d joined her class, that masturbation fantasy had been replaced by Jon. Even with that arousing image, she"d get to a certain point, and then rubbing her clit or her pussy was like scrubbing a floor. No response, just abrasion.

He wasn"t rubbing as if he was intent on a goal, however. Instead he was exploring her as if he had hours to indulge himself, his fingers gliding over places that made her tremble, cry out again. Then he"d retreat, his thumb making idle passes over her clit, a light pressure before he moved away. She writhed, lifting her hips for more.

“No. None of that. You lie still and let me explore this pussy. My pussy. All mine.” He leaned over and she squealed, rigid, as he blew on her clit, his tongue taking a brief swipe, then a lazy, slow circle over the labia. “You feel how slick you are, Rachel? I"m watching your arousal slide out of you, like a melting ice cream cone. And God, your nipples are so hard and tight, your breasts swollen and ripe. Your body is a feast for a man"s lust. You"re like a dam, and I can see the pressure building behind those thick walls you"ve built. We"re going to take this slow, relieve it slow so you have room to feel, to experience.”

“Fuck…please…fuck me…” She was not a woman who used foul language. And yet she couldn"t help crying out against the gag as he did exactly what he said he would. Taking it slow, arousing her further with those fingers, his mouth, then stroking her thighs, her hips, his palms sliding up her abdomen and along the crease beneath her breasts, then following the outer curve, leaving her nipples begging for attention.

Even muffled, it was clear what she was saying. He made soft admonishments, but let her have that outlet. When his hand settled on her throat, constricting her there, her pussy convulsed, a short gush of fluid running down the seam of her buttocks, teasing the perineum. She shuddered. Please…I can’t take anymore…

But she had to. Because as the long minutes passed, he continued to simply enjoy himself, taking pleasure in her body. He didn"t even appear to be trying to make her climax. She felt no bated sense of expectation, a pressure to make her do something she"d said she couldn"t. Yet she passed a line where that didn"t matter anymore. She abandoned all she knew about her body and begged him with everything she could—

her squirming, the tension in her thighs, the arch of her throat against his hold—to try.

Please…try.

She quivered as he tapped her carotid artery, then settled his fingers on her throat again. “Oh yeah, you"re tremendously responsive here. You"ve wanted a collar for a long time. And you don"t want some dainty piece of jewelry. You want something steel and thick that holds you close, presses on your throat and reminds you your very life is in a Master"s hand. It would have a lock that can only be opened by him. I"d make it smooth, so smooth on the edges, you"d feel the weight, but no discomfort. Somewhere on it I"d stamp a message in Sanskrit, one of the oldest languages known, because this is one of the oldest impulses. To claim, to exert dominance and demand submission.” Please stop… He was giving sharp, painful details to her nebulous fantasies. Her body was rippling, undulating like a heaving sea, emulating the rhythm of sex, of fucking, no shame anymore.

“That"s it, girl…” He said it in a throaty whisper. “Show me how wanton you are, how much you want it. Show me how you"d take my cock. Squeeze down on it, squeeze down hard.” When he slid his fingers back in, she shrieked at that overload of sensation. His thumb flicked her clit, hard then light, then a stroke. Moving his smallest finger to tease the rim of her anus, he added to the abundance of stimulus she was experiencing. How much more could she take?

“Ben would love to fuck your ass. He"s our legal counsel, and it"s his favorite orifice to explore on a woman. Imagine it, imagine him taking you there while I take your cunt.

Tighten the muscles in your ass, imagine his thick cock is pumping into you there, punishing you for doubting me.” And then one finger, wet from her juices, slid into that tight passage, while the other two stayed in her pussy. She strangled on a scream.

“Don"t you come, Rachel. Not until I give you permission. But squeeze down on me. I want to feel those muscles clamp around my fingers.” She was terrified. A pressure like a volcano"s eruption was sweeping over her. Her body didn"t belong to her anymore. It was heaving, bucking, squirming, so stimulated it couldn"t choose one distinct pattern of movement. Her neck arched under his hand, tilting her head farther over the edge of the bed, making her dizzy. When he squeezed her throat one more time, reminding her that all her senses, her body, everything, was under his command, that shattering into forty million pieces began.

“Come for me, Rachel. Come now.”

Her cunt rippled, contracted, her rectum clenching around his finger there. Her clit hardened and suddenly it was upon her. This wasn"t like a volcano eruption after all.

She was hit mid-body by a percussion wave that blew her senses out. Her mind exploded in that black night, her head arching back even farther over the side of the mattress, all the blood rushing to her head and her sex, leaving everything in between twitching and seizing.

Now the lava did flow, delicious heat pouring through her. It spilled onto his fingers like the gush of a man"s come, she felt it. So thick and primal, her legs jerking, heels beating against the mattress. She whipped her head back and forth, lashing herself with her hair, such that some of it caught in her mouth and she bit down on it. She was gorgeous, wanton, a sex Goddess incarnate, no thought but the pleasure she could give her Master as the climax rolled her over and over in the midst of a dark universe. A universe full of nothing but sensual cries and sweaty, slick flesh sliding against his hold, the one fixed point in that wildly spinning firmament.