A finger

She quickly began to moan, approving of her master's skill in awakening her senses with his finger. He smiled, tilted her onto a table and activated his fingers, which deliciously penetrated her intimate area. Piper's hips were always crying out for more, but the master wanted to frustrate her.

He withdrew his fingers, tasting the oozing moisture.

• Hmm, you are the most delicious in this regard, a true nectar. Show me how you pleasure yourself, and perhaps I would honor you if you gave me enough nectar to fill this cup.

He pointed to a cocktail glass.

Ashamed, she nodded, and her fingers began to honor her vagina and her clitoris, under the gaze of the master, who didn't miss a single thing. Piper's fingers slid with agonizing slowness along her wet lips, each touch sending waves of guilty pleasure down her spine.

Her nails dug lightly into her tender flesh as a shiver ran through her, her trembling thighs clenching and then spreading as if to better offer themselves to her master's devouring gaze.

The crystal bowl glittered under the dim lights, placed near her quivering hip, awaiting its due. She wanted to please her master, she was being more merciless with her sex to obtain what her conscience could not offer her and that only an extraordinary orgasm would give her.

Piper's fingers worked with a delicate frenzy, her wrist rotating in precise circles while her fingertips stimulated her clitoris, swollen with desire. A muffled moan escaped her parted lips, her breaths becoming more ragged with each expert pressure she inflicted on herself.

The heat inside her rose, pulsing, like a fire smoldering beneath her skin, and her thighs contracted involuntarily, her trembling muscles betraying the intensity of this forbidden pleasure.

The master traced his fingers along her body, her hips, her breasts, placing his mouth on her nipples to give her a taste of what he would grant her if she satisfied him.

Piper moaned more and more, exerting every effort in the world to obtain the privilege his master would grant her, a delight she fantasized about every day. Piper felt the pleasure rise like an uncontrollable tide, her fingers accelerating in a frenetic rhythm as his breath burned her skin. His mouth closed over her hardened nipple, a slow, calculated lick that finally elicited a hoarse cry from her lips.

The bowl rocked beside her, each drop of her desire falling into it with a wet, obscene clink. He whispered in her ear.

• It must be full. Make one more effort, you're almost there.

The master's words made Piper shudder, her entire body straining toward the promised ecstasy. His fingers dug deeper, the jerky rhythm of his hips matching each movement as a trickle of sweat trickled between her heaving breasts. The master watched, impassive, except for the fire in his eyes that betrayed his satisfaction.

• "Faster," he murmured, his raspy voice streaking the air like a forbidden caress.

Piper's fingers raced, obeying the harsh command, as the wet lapping of her own pleasure filled the bowl. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her pupils dilating under the onslaught of sensation. The master, impassive, watched every quiver of her flesh, each precious drop falling into the glass with a slowness that was exasperating for Piper.

• "Look at me," he ordered, grasping her chin in a firm grip.

Piper felt her body tense at the command, her eyes, flooded with desire, locking with his. His fingers, still buried inside her, barely slowed, each movement calculated to prolong the exquisite agony consuming her.

The master brought his lips to her ear, his voice a burning whisper that made the back of her neck shiver.

• Every drop counts, my dear.

He collected the last drop before the cup overflowed, brought it to his lips, and took a sip.

• Divine, and for a demon to say that, it's a fact.

He handed the cup to Piper.

• Drink it.

Piper's trembling fingers grasped the crystal bowl, her lust-filled gaze fixed on the murky liquid that shimmered in the light. A wave of shame mixed with excitement ran down her spine as she raised the glass to her parted lips. The salty, musky taste invaded her mouth, strangely intimate, as if she were drinking her own sin.