Page 73 of Ezekiel
On we went, the blue, the burgundy, then the deep forest green and the white, until I had covered her body from head to toe with beautiful wax. She was a masterpiece. My masterpiece.
“Angel, how do you feel?” I asked her gently. I kept my tone light, yet firm, my hand touching hers in comfort. She was quivering, her body a mess of heightened sensation.
“I feel…” she stuttered, half incoherently. I watched her eyes dart back and forth, not in panic but in utter submissive headspace. It was beautiful. “I need…” she tried again, without success.
“What do you need, angel?” I asked her, leaning down to kiss her full lips, swollen from biting them during the wax.
Her eyes met mine, crystal clear as she spoke with intensity. “You.”
That one word, and more importantly, the way she spoke it, shot straight to my cock, hardening me until I was leaking pre-cum against my jeans. I had unbuttoned and unzipped my fly halfway through the scene, the zipper pressing painfully into my erection. I growled in response to her perfect submission, my dominance rising to her level of need and matching it equally.
I needed her.
I need this.
I needed us.
“You have me, my sweet angel,” I promised, inwardly cursing the way emotion grew thick in my vocal chords as I spoke. Grabbing the cup of half melted ice, I began to drip icy cold wetness over her heated flesh. She only felt half of it, the rest diluted and blocked by the splotches of wax that marked her stunning form.
Her breaths came out in gasps, releasing with a moan as she writhed against her restraints. With an ice cube in hand, I cupped her heated sex, the stuttering gasp of her breath music to my ears.
“Take it, gorgeous little pet. Take the sensation and let it pull you in deeper,” I commanded, locking my eyes with hers. She nodded slowly, her jaw slack and her eyes dilated with pure lust and submission. Exquisite. Masterful. And all mine.
“Deep breath, angel,” I guided her with my words, watching as she obeyed perfectly. Her eyes welled up as I pushed her further, tears threatening to spill over at any second.
There it was. That emotional release that she had just begun during our last scene. Perhaps tonight would be the night she finally let go and broke for me. A beautiful, broken submissive, trusting me fully to put her back together. It was a Dominant’s dream to have such a thing, and it was something I had never even entertained as a possibility. I never intended to get close enough to someone to allow it to happen. Then along came Talia. She wormed her way into my life regardless of how I felt about it, and there was no turning back now.
What I felt for this woman went beyond the bond of our sham marriage. This was something real. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
“Sink in for me, angel,” I coaxed, my fingers parting her folds and slipping the ice cube over her clit. It melted so quickly, leaving a sopping mess that combined with her own juices. Squelching and shifting through her folds, I circled and teased her cunt until she was a mass of trembling nerves, ready to burst at any moment.
“Do you want to cum for me, pretty angel?” I asked her. She nodded, her jaw slack and eyes glazed over with need.
“Do you want to soak my fingers, my hand, hell, even this table with the hot cum from your cunt?” I urged her, spurring her deeper and further into subspace with my words. Again, she simply nodded. That was enough for me; enough for now.
“Open up for me, angel,” I coaxed, sliding two fingers, and then three, into her tight channel. It was like a vise, threatening to squeeze the life out of my fingers. I could imagine how incredible that tight, wet heat would feel wrapped around my cock. “Open up, love.”
I spun and twisted my fingers, opening her up as she stretched around my fingers. Her sounds were guttural and needy for me. Her desire was palpable, the air thick with it.
Reaching behind me, my hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Her eyes locked on the tool, widening in shock, yet no fear washed over her face.
“I have you. Trust me,” I reminded her. She nodded again, seemingly incapable of words at that moment.
“Can’t,” she barely whimpered. She was holding back. Holding on to whatever it was inside her that didn’t want to let go, that didn’t want to break.
“You can. When you are ready, angel,” I reassured her. “Open up for me,” I commanded again, spreading her knees wide as my fingers pressed deeper inside of her. She was so open, so stretched for me. The throbbing ache of her cunt thrummed around my fingers in time with her heartbeat.
“Take every ounce of pleasure,” I coaxed, slipping the blade over her skin as I peeled back fleck after fleck, layer after layer, of the hardened wax from her body.
“Sir,” she whimpered again, a few errant tears trekking down her cheeks and onto the table below.
“Open up and cum for me, angel. Cum around my fingers hard,” I growled, the tip of the knife pressing into the flesh of her breasts just enough to cause her pulse to quicken and her breaths to pant. Her back arched off the table as far as her restrained arms and legs would allow her as she screamed her pleasure into the quiet of the house.
She erupted around me, her sweet nectar coating my fingers, my hand, my arm as she sobbed, begged and pleaded to the heavens for respite from the chaotic pleasured waves she was crashing through at my hands, under my touch.
And still she kept going.
My thumb kept swirling.
