Good Girls Do What They're Told

I wasn't going to disobey. I didn't know if I could. The compulsion inside of me was mixing with the order that he'd given to me and it all added up to a potent combination, a heady mix that was driving me mad.

I was going to do as he asked. I was going to touch myself. It was inevitable and it was desired and it was needed and oh god it was going to be good.

The only question was how.

Now I had two hands, both of which were occupied at the moment. One clamped over my mouth to stifle my cries and the other playing with my breast, pinching and pulling at my nipple to give my body the shocks of pleasure it crazed.

It made the most sense to release my breasts. Blake could grab them and hold them around his cock, after all. Hell he might even like it, but there was a problem with that equation.

This was meant to be all about him and yes he was giving me permission to find pleasure in myself right now, but I didn't know if he would raise a finger to do that. His attention was entirely focused on pleasuring himself and I didn't know what spare he had left over for me.

If I released my breasts now he would undoubtedly step in to hold them around his cock, but could I trust him to also step in to pleasure me? Would he pinch my nipples like I needed? Would he squeeze my breasts just right, almost milking the heat out of them? Could I trust him to do that?

No. No I could not. And so even though unclamping my muffle and letting my cries fall out into the world to be heard by anyone close was a bad idea, it was the only option for me.

My brow furrowed as I unclasped and I let my hand fall down to my thigh. My fingers curled into the bare skin there hard enough to draw little red lines that would linger for a bit afterwards.

"I told you to touch yourself," Blake growled, "I gave you an order and I expect you to obey."

Oh god. Oh god my hand moved. Oh god I couldn't help myself.

My fingers felt thick and useless, none of the nimbleness that I was used to from the slender feminine digits. They pressed up and fat fingered the button at the top of my shorts as my eyes went wide, as my mouth fell open. As a moan, unbidden, poured out of me.

My jaw trembling. My bottom lip shaking. My fingers fumbling and moving so much faster with every moment as I tried to unbutton my shorts and the fabric of them pressed at my skin, so rouch against my already sensitive body.

Shaking as I was rocked back and forth from the thrust of his hips. As his cock continued to travel in and out of my cleavage. As I tore my gaze away from him and turned my head down to look.

I meant to look so I could unbutton more easily, but my gaze was caught by the sight on my chest. The throbbing head of his cock popping up out of my cleavage and falling back in again. Disappearing into the soft pillowiness of my breasts as I watched, absolutely transfixed.

With a thrust forward his cock pushed out, the head of him pulsing as it revealed itself angry and red. The pounding of his heart made his cock throb and the head expanded and contracted and as it did a single droplet of precum blossomed at the tip of him. I watched as it ran down in a rivulet and landed on my skin and I felt it and I craved it, a thirst that I couldn't fully grasp billowing up in me as I swallowed hard and ran my tongue around my lips.

I needed to taste him but he was going to deny me. Because he knew that I needed it just as much as I did and the only way to get what I wanted, the only way to have that seed, was to follow orders.

To be his good girl.

And good girls do what they're told.

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