Page 40 of The Toy Collector

“Two,” she cries out when my hand lands another firm strike on her skin, the sound echoing once more.

I click my tongue disapprovingly. “The first one didn’t count. Let’s start over,” I instruct, maintaining control with a calm demeanor.

To her credit, she doesn’t argue or plead; she simply nods, accepting the correction. When my hand connects with her ass again, the impact reverberates, and she dutifully counts, her voice an enticing mixture of pain and a trembling I suspect is pleasure.

By the fifth strike, she’s moaning and writhing in my lap, her body undulating with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

The grind of her hips sends a jolt through me so sharp I have to bite my cheek to keep from groaning. My dick is rock hard beneath her, begging to be inside her. Her skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and the room is filled with her soft, breathy gasps and whimpers.

“I’m not sure this constitutes punishment at all,” I rasp, my voice low and gravelly, as she tilts her hips, grinding against my thigh.

When she tries to protest, her words come out as little more than a whisper, barely audible over the sound of her own desire. I move my hand between her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her skin, and my fingers find her drenched in arousal.

“Mhmm, so incredibly wet… and still not sexually active, right? Or is this you trying?” I taunt, dragging two fingers through her soaked folds. “All this slickness and no one to use it? That’s fucking tragic.”

Her body responds instinctively, a shiver coursing through her as shame makes her breath hitch, and her cheeks take on a delicious red hue that almost matches the prints of my hand on both her creamy ass cheeks.

I want to bury my face in her pussy and taste the proof of her arousal. I want to ruin her with my mouth until she forgets how to lie to herself.

“N-no,” she argues weakly. “P-please don’t.” Her denial dies when I pinch her clit, and she cries out, rolling her hips as though she wants more.

As I land another blow on her ass, she squirms, trying to get away from me.

“No, you don’t,” I growl with a low, menacing intensity.

She sobs, her voice trembling with a note of desperation. “No. Stop… ahh, I need more. No.” She’s at war with herself while tear after tear cascades down her face. The blindfold doesn’t absorb all of them. I admire the inky trails along her cheeks like a somber work of art.

Reaching out, I grip her jaw with a firm, unyielding grasp, guiding her face closer to mine. I lean in, letting my tongue glide over her skin to taste a single tear, savoring its salty essence.

“Your desperation is delicious,” I whisper, my voice a soft, sinister caress that hangs in the charged space between us.

I want to bottle that scent—the wet, electric musk of shame and arousal. Wear it like a cologne.

“Let’s see if you’re ready to tell the truth,” I rasp. “Are you sexually active now, Toy? Or are you still intending to try with anyone else?”

She stiffens, once again trying to escape me. But I’m holding her too tight for that to happen. She parts her lips to speak, then she shakes her head and presses her lips together.

“Tell me,” I croon, rolling her clit.

“I… I… it was an accident,” she moans. “I was just trying to lighten the fucking mood.”

That’s the answer I expected. And now that I’m seeing her in the flesh, hearing the tremble in her voice, I’m convinced it’s not an act.

“An accident?” I scoff.

She hesitates, licking her lips. “Yes. I mean…” Trailing off, she curses under her breath. “I wasn’t going to sit there and tell Dr. Voss what you’ve done to me, was I? No. So I made a harmless joke,” she snarls.

I run my hand over her ass, pinching the red marks until she gasps and bucks against me. “A harmless joke,” I repeat. “Do you still think it’s harmless?”

“Enough,” she snaps, her voice thick. “I’ve answered your fucking question honestly. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me. But I’m done playing this game.”

There she is, my perfect toy breaking free, showing her fiery self.

“Are you sexually active?” I ask, my voice husky.

“Yes,” she cries.

“With who?”

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