Page 7 of A New Year's Toy

“I don’t think about anyone but you, Daddy.”

“Such a good girl. And sneaky.” His eyes darken. “I would’ve used this little piece of nostalgia to rain pain and pleasure on you. Still would, though they won’t be the stars of the show. Something else piqued my interest.”

He doesn’t tell me which one. Doesn’t glance in its direction.

What he does is parts my legs, forcing my knees to the sides of my breasts. He lies on top of me, pressing his cock to my pussy. It’s hard in his jeans, and I’m pulsating, needing it bare, dying for it to slide and slap on my skin.

To have Alistair bury this thick piece of flesh into me.

“Don’t move.” His fingers curl around my neck, his thumb drawing circles on my pulsing vein. “I feel your orgasm building, Nola, you know that? I can sense it, can see it in your eyes.”

“Yes.”

The anticipation he’s generated runs ever strong through me.

I’m pretty sure I’ll combust at the slightest flick of his tongue.

Pretty sure he’ll withhold it from me for long, long minutes, too.

Yet, I still ask, “I want to. Can I?”

Alistair delivers another surprise by slithering down the path of my body, parting my lips, and growling, “Yes.”

His hot breath on my clit sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head, the lap of his tongue yanking out a desperate cry from the depths of my lungs.

My legs spread and my hands are tied. I’m at Alistair’s mercy, knowing what’s to come.

It never does. The anticipation of cruelty is unmatched by reality. Alistair has three fingers pumping into me gently. He doesn’t bite my mound, he sucks on it, kissing it.

I would’ve been suspicious, except I lack any sort of mental capacity for it. I’m subjected to the pleasure Alistair bestows on me and nothing else, allowing him to carry me gracefully to my promised orgasm.

In what seems like mere seconds, I call out his name, my ass gyrating to meet more of his fingers and tongue. I’m in a state of bliss.

“Beautiful, voluntary orgasm.” He licks my juices off his glistening lips.

Voluntary?

He reads the question bursting through my sated expression. “The next few won’t be. Not until I come in your mouth.”

My head flops back with a sigh. It doesn’t sound so bad. We’ve done sixty-nine before, or he’d fuck me for hours then take it out last minute to have his cum drip down my tongue.

Alistair, who controls his orgasms just like he controls me, takes his sweet time with it, too. I’ve grown accustomed to the ache entailed in three or four orgasms coaxed out of me in a night.

I can take it.

I’m usually able to but I discover quickly today, I cannot.

Alistair reaches the cardboard box, extracting the wand vibrator out of it.

“Oh,” I let out the helpless word again.

He holds the toy that doesn’t simply force orgasms, it coerces them to rise over and over again. There will be many, many more than three orgasms today. Or maybe there won’t be many, but they’ll be ones Alistair will undoubtedly demand me to prolong.

The coming torture scares and elates me. I take on both feelings, hold on to them, and wait.

“Oh is the correct response to the game you and I are about to play.”

Alistair removes the wand from its plastic box, using the wipes I added to clean it. He continues to fish out the paddle, placing them both next to the remaining ribbon.

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