Page 78 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

The erotic and nasty demands from his lips.

“Do you like it, Master?” I rasp, moaning and spreading my pussy folds with my other hand so he can see how I’m fucking myself deep and hard. “Am I pleasing you?”

A muscle tics in his jaw as I test his restraint.

“Am I being your good little slave slut?”

He palms his hard-on, taunting, “What does it look like?”

“Can I please see your cock? It makes me so wet,” I beg teasingly. “It’ll help me come so hard.”

A grown emanates from his chest and he whips out his length, fisting and stroking it angrily. The head moist with liquid.

“Thank me, you horny slut.”

Fingering myself harder, I cry out, “Thank you, Master.”

“Fuck your ass with the dildo,” he hoarsely says, his attention between my thighs. “I want to hear the wet noises.”

Sucking my fingers clean while he curses low, I tug at the base of the toy. It’s like my ass doesn’t want it out because I have to relax my muscles and push it out.

My eyes close at the sensation.

In the next second, pain erupts across my chest and my eyes shoot open in time to see Kingston holding the chain between my breasts.

“Eyes on me while you play for me.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t close them.”

“Force the toy in to the hilt.”

I thrust it deep and whimper, “Ahh…”

“Keep riding it and don’t you dare come.”

“But—”

“Your body is my personal fucktoy,” he cuts me off. “You’ll do as I say.”

Without warning, he unclamps my nipples and I scream when all the blood rushes to my tips at once. I have to squeeze my legs together to not accidently come.

I wait for the wave to pass before fucking my hole with the dildo.

“Harder, slave,” he scolds. “I know you like it rougher than that. Fuck yourself like the slut you are.”

“Yes.”

The desire in his eyes combined with his hand stroking his thickness is skyrocketing my lust. The tattoos on his arm, swirling in a dance. Every inch of him is virile and massive and strong.

He wields so much power when he fucks me like a beast.

“Can I please stop?” I beg. “I’m going to come, Sir.”

“Not yet.”

Tears of frustration roll in a stream down my cheeks. My wrist aches from pushing the slippery toy in and out. There’sno resisting from my muscles as it accepts the invasion with hunger.

The pressure in my womb becomes intense by the minute.

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