Page 111 of Sliding into Love
Neverdirected at me.
Royce glances up with a smile that can only be described as predatory. "You know I like having you completely at my mercy. This facilitates that."
"That's ominous," I say, but there's no real protest in my voice. We've been together long enough that Royce knows exactly what I want, even when I'm not entirely sure about it myself. The fact that they've thought about this, planned it, and invested in equipment sends a thrill through me that's part anticipation, part genuine nerves.
"You can use the safe word if you need to," Royce reminds me, attaching a silicone attachment to the machine. It's designed specifically for internal stimulation, and I can feel my pulse quicken just looking at it. "But I don't think you will."
"You're very confident," I say.
"I know you," Royce replies simply, and that statement alone makes my cock twitch with interest.
They do know me. They know exactly how to push me to the edge of control, exactly how to make me beg without ever having to force it.
"Now, are you ready?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. Royce moves to straddle my hips. Not sitting fully, just hovering above me, their weight balanced on their knees. From this position, they can see my face clearly, and that's deliberate. It's always deliberate with them.
"I want you to watch me the entire time," Royce instructs, reaching out to grip my chin gently, forcing my eyes to meet theirs. "No looking away. No closing your eyes. You keep your eyes on me, or we stop. Understood?"
"Yes," I say.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I understand."
Royce's expression shifts, becoming even more commanding. "Yes, what?"
Oh. They want the honorific. "Yes, Your Majesty.”
"Better," they murmur, and lean down to kiss me all slowly and deeply and absolutely controlled. When they pull back, I feel unmoored, already anticipating what's coming next.
They reach over to the machine and power it on. It hums to life, a low vibration that fills the room, and I feel the attachment press against me in a tease of what's to come.
Since Royce controls the speed with a remote, they start me off slow.
Impossibly slow.
I’m already prepped. There’s no reason to drag things out. No reason except they love to see me squirm.
"Oh, fuck," I breathe out as the machine begins to move, a steady rhythm that's barely more than a suggestion. It's shallow, barely inside me, just enough to create an excruciating tension without providing real satisfaction.
"Eyes," Royce reminds me sharply, and I realize I've let my head fall back. I force myself to look at them, and they're watching me with an expression of intense satisfaction. They're enjoying this. Enjoying my struggle, my inability to simply lie back and receive. "That's right. Keep them on me."
"This is torture!” My voice comes out strained as the machine continues its maddening pace.
I want more.
I want it deeper, faster, harder.
I want something to push me toward release.
Instead, I get this controlled, measured stimulation that keeps me hovering in this space between arousal and desperate need. I feel like I’m losing and winning all at once.
"It's not torture if you're enjoying it," Royce says. "And you are enjoying it, Little Menace. I can tell."
They're right. My cock is hard against my stomach, leaking precome, and despite the frustration, there's something about this situation that’s incredibly hot. Maybe being completely atRoyce's mercy, having to maintain eye contact while they control my pleasure, is the reason.
Royce shifts slightly, their own arousal evident in the way they're breathing, the way their pupils have dilated. They're getting off on this as much as I am, which somehow makes the denial even more intense.
