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He slid his fingers in between Erika’s oozing cunt lips, watching the welts across her ass swell and darken by the second. He was about at his limit. The beast inside him growled and paced. He needed to be inside of her.
In a minute. One more minute.
He steeled himself. “Tell her, Erika. Tell sweet little Sylvie here why you don’t cum.”
And make it fast.
He watched another drop of cunt juice dribble to the floor, and he thought he might bite through his own tongue.
He tapped the cane along the top of her thighs, a relatively unmarked area. But not for long.
Erika gasped, a tiny sound, but enough. She was afraid, and he drank in that knowledge.
“Sir… owns my orgasms,” she said, her voice raspy.
He brought the cane up and back down, crashing into that tender flesh. Her scream was beautiful, and his world narrowed just basking in her suffering.
“Why?” Sylvie asked, though she sounded far away.
“Be-because… he…”
He tapped her thighs again.
Erika burst into tears. “Please, fuck… gods, please…”
“Tell her, Erika. You’re not getting fucked until you tell her,” he said.
She straightened and took a deep, deep breath. “I ache for his control. I want him to control every part of me. Every part of me becomes his. His property, his decision. His to use as he sees fit.” As she spoke, her voice lost the edge of crying. “I’m better for him when I don’t cum. Cumming makes me selfish. I want to be what he wants, what he needs.”
He gave her another stroke, an inch lower on her thighs.
She shook and cried and oozed onto the floor.
“Please… Sir, I’m-I’m so c-c-close… please don’t make me c-c-cum…” she begged, crying.
Visions of her punishment for an unauthorized orgasm danced through his head. He swallowed dryly, his cock aching. “You won’t cum, Erika. You’ll just take it, like the good little whore I know you are.”
Her body shuddered.
Enough.
They’d have to continue this little conversation later. Sometime when he wasn’t hard enough to drill through a piece of steel. He unzipped his pants, and his cock sprang free of its confines. A dark growl escaped his lips as he dug his fingers into all of Erika’s swollen, bruised flesh. His vision darkened, as he imagined the hot, wet softness of her cunt.
“Mr Martinez?”
Fuck.
He spun around, and he knew his eyes were wild. Silvie still sat on the couch, her legs askew. He watched her breath catch as some primal part of her recognized the beastial look on his face. She paled, and brought her legs together again.
That fear. So much like his Erika. So much like prey.
“No,” he said, his voice a quiet menace. “Get on your fucking knees, over here. Now.”
Those round, dark eyes got wider. But she lowered herself to the floor, on her hands and knees.
Fuck. Fuck, he was going to fucking lose it. “Get over here. See how much she likes this. See how much of a whore she is.”
Silvie crawled, and each movement of her body could have been a lick of hellfire across his body. He was going to burn in for this, but just watching her move for him – he didn’t fucking care. An eternity of torment seemed an even trade for watching his neighbor’s nineteen-year-old daughter crawl across the floor for him.
“Between her legs. Lick this slut’s clit.”
Erika started to cry again.
“And I promise you, if you make her cum, both of you are going to be very, very sorry.”
Silvie’s tiny little ass disappeared under the table, and he knew as Erika’s back arched that the girl’s tongue had found its target. Finally, finally, he buried himself to the hilt in her clenching, dripping pussy.
Her heat, her velvety liquid center, melted the last of his reserve.
There was only a tiny voice of regret, somewhere in the back of his brain, that he wasn’t going to last longer.
His balls tightened as he felt her clench around him.
He smiled. She was going to cum.
He knew it. He knew it, because he knew her body like the finely tuned instrument it was. Every tiny movement and sound telegraphed her helpless descent into her forbidden orgasm.
His breath was ragged, as he thought of what he’d do to her.
And Sylvie. Fuck.
Sylvie.
She’d be punished, too.
He felt his own orgasm approaching, much much too soon. Images of both of them, crying and begging and holding each other through their individual agonies, raced through his head, each more brutal than the last.
He could feel Erika shake underneath him, feel her clenching pussy like a vice around him. As she brought her head up, shaking it no, he watched as her body tensed at the edge. He watched her desperately try to hold on, his sweet little slut, helpless against her own body. She screamed her orgasm, and every muscle relaxed for a brief moment, before contracting again.
She clamped down on him, her pulsating cunt milking his cock.
He watched her lose her battle, and he lost his.
He roared as he pushed himself into his slave for the last time, spilling his molten seed inside of her. They screamed their orgasm together, lost into the sensation of the pleasure of the other’s body.
He loved this woman. The thought rang clear as a bell through his head. He knew he would do anything for her. He knew this with the certainty of his own being.
The emotion washed through him, and the clarity felt good, even as his body started to feel heavy and sluggish. He hoisted himself off of her, as strings of pussy juice yawned and broke from between their unpairing.
He looked at the dark-haired girl kneeling under the table, still sucking gently at Erika’s pussy. Every few seconds, she would jerk and moan as another aftershock ran through her body.
Sweet Jesus, Sylvie.
Fucking Christ.
He remembered her sensual crawl, and what he had promised her. A sadistic smile crossed his lips.
He was going to show Sylvie things she’d never imagined.
“Sylvie,” he said, though his voice sounded like he’d been yelling for hours.
She lowered herself back onto all fours, and she had a very self-satisfied look on her face.
She had done it on purpose. His smile widened, and her faltered, just a bit. He knew it, and she knew that he knew it.
“Sylvie, what did I tell you?”
“…Not to make her cum.” She looked up at him with those big doe eyes, with hopelessly long eyelashes.
“And what did you do?”
Her smile returned.
“I made her cum.” Again, there was that unmistakable lilt of self-satisfaction, and it made him want to do bad, bad things to her.
He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out from under the table, watching her eyes bulge in shock and pain. “Mmm hmm, you did. And what did I say would happen, if you made her cum?” He held her head steady, inches from his sticky, cum-covered cock.
“Y-y-you said I’d be sorry…”
His grip tightened, and she winced. “I did. Now, clean me off, while I think about what I should do with you.”
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