Page 72 of Bartholomew
“So good,” I groaned, my eyes almost fluttering closed at the sensation.
“Last one, firefly.” His finger slid into my pussy, stretching me around his digits.
“My breasts are full and sensitive. When you play with them, I feel like the goddess you say that I am.” I keened as his fingers found that spot within, pressing against it slowly.
“That’s my girl.” His praise fell on nearly deaf ears as his fingers slipping in and out of my tight channel, careening me forward towards an orgasm I hadn’t known was building.
“Daddy!” I cried out, my toes curling against the hardwood flooring of the bathroom, my fingers digging into the unyielding surface of the countertop. Still, my eyes stayed fixated on the mirror, on his image there behind me. His eyes were ablaze with desire. For me.
That knowledge set my arousal to a fever pitch, burning brightly until I was on that razor’s edge.
“I need to cum,” I pleaded with him.
“Not yet,” he growled, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror’s reflection.
“Please!” I was right there, right on that edge, my clit trembling with the need to release.
“Now,” he growled, his teeth biting into the soft flesh at the crux of my shoulder where it met my neck, the painful sensation shooting me into orgasmic orbit. His fingers were unrelenting, unyielding as he pushed me further. “Again!” he commanded, pulling a second orgasm from my body. I tried as hard as I could, but could not keep my eyes from falling shut. My head fell back as I cried to the heavens, soaking his fingers as my orgasm crested yet again.
Abruptly, his fingers left me, spinning me around and lifting me up on to the cold marble surface of the countertop. I barely had time to stop myself from sliding into the sink before he wrenched my thighs apart and delivered slap after slap to my soaking pussy.
“Ollie!” I cried out, making to cover myself from his smacks. He grabbed my hands, placing them roughly on the countertop.
“Do not cover yourself from me, firefly,” he ground out through gritted teeth, his slaps to my pussy continuing. “I told you that if your eyes left the mirror again, this is what you’d get. And I am a man of my word, love.”
My swollen folds took the brunt of his punishment, yet I felt no shame at his words. Only sweet reprimand.
He dropped to his knees as he delivered the last slap, his tongue lapping at my folds and soothing the stinging ache he had just created.
“You did beautifully, firefly. You made me so proud, taking those strikes like such a good girl,” he praised between licks, and I drank in every word. His fingers parted my folds, his tongue delving forward and finding that sweet, swollen nub to torture. Flicking and swirling, he teased the tender pearl until I was a trembling pile of submissive need under his attentions once more.
He stood and pulled me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carried me back to the bedroom.
“I have absolutely no problem making you stand in front of that mirror every day and tell me things you find beautiful about yourself, if that’s what it takes. Make no mistake about that, firefly,” he promised, laying me on the bed. I pulled the chemise down, wanting to cover myself, but stopped halfway. I pulled my hands back, fisting them at my sides awkwardly. But I wasn’t covering myself. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
His hands found the tops of my panties, tugging them down the thick curves of my thighs and down my legs.
“Open those legs for me, firefly, and let me see that delicious little pussy. I want to see it before I devour it again.” Lord have mercy, this man’s words were going to drive me to madness almost as fast as his tongue was.
I spread my legs, still keeping my hands off to the sides.
“Now open those folds for me and let me see that pretty pearl of a clit.” My cheeks flushed with blistering heat as I hesitantly spread my most intimate place for his perusal.
“Does that embarrass you? To open yourself up for me like that?” he teased me with his words. I nodded slowly, unable to form words. It was embarrassing, but somehow liberating, to just obey in this way.
“Look how sweet and juicy you look, firefly. Ready for whatever I want to give you. My fingers,” he purred, his fingers trailing over my exposed clit, making me jump and my breath hitch. “Or maybe my tongue.” He leaned forward, letting the tip of his tongue flick over the sensitive button. “Or maybe even my cock.”
I watched with wide eyes as he pulled the waistline of his boxers down, letting his hard cock pop out, bouncing against his abdomen. The tip of him was already leaking. He pressed the head against my clit, swirling it over my swollen nub.
“Daddy,” I groaned, my eyes rolling back at the feel of his cock against my sensitive folds.
“We’re not there yet, babygirl. First, we have all these to play with.” His reminder drew my focus to the bedside table where he had placed the toys earlier. Sure enough, there Donatello sat, my pussy clenching in anticipatory arousal.
The first item he pulled off of the table looked like a torture device. My hands immediately covered my pussy, and I clamped my thighs together as he held the spiked thing up.
“This is a Wartenberg pinwheel. It looks scary, but I promise you, it’s not,” he explained. “Uncover yourself, and trust me, firefly,” he gently commanded, his soft tone soothing me. At least a little.
“Open those legs for me again, baby. Let me show you,” he whispered. I took a deep breath, just before he brought the torture object to my skin, placing it softly against the tender flesh of my inner thigh. He ran the wheel up towards my pussy.
