Makes Her Beg.

The grey light woke me. Not dawn anymore—mid-morning, the sun high enough to warm the black sheet where it pooled at my waist. I blinked, disoriented. The ropes were gone. The weight beside me was still there.

Mr. Dewitt lay on his back, one arm behind his head, watching me. His pale blue eyes were clear, rested. He must have been awake for a while.

“Good morning,” he said.

Shifting, I felt the dried slickness between my thighs. My body ached—shoulders, hips, the deep place inside me that he’d filled. I pulled the sheet higher, but he reached out, fingers brushing my collarbone.

“Don’t hide.”

His hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of my breast, down my ribs, stopping at my hip. Light touches. Exploratory. I held her breath.

After a few moments, Mr. Dewitt got out of bed and hot dressed. Leaving me alone to get ready. After a while I got out of bed and winced as my arms and legs were still asleep from being tied up for so long. I got dressed and went back to my apartment.

The next week, Mr. DeWitt answers the door with a wry smile on his face.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. Grabbing my hip as he led me into the bedroom “About what we haven’t tried yet.”

My stomach tightened.

“You’ve taken me in your mouth. In your pussy. Both worked beautifully.” His hand slid lower, palm flat on my belly. “But there’s one place we haven’t visited.”

“I… I’ve never,” I started.

“I know.” His voice stayed calm. “That’s why I want it. But only if you ask me for it.”

His hand moved to her thigh, squeezing gently. Then he shifted, raising her skirt and moving her panties to the side opening her to his touch. His fingers found her folds, already wet from his touch.

“I’m going to spend the night reminding your body what pleasure feels like,” he said. “And when you can’t take it anymore, when you need something more, you’ll tell me. You’ll beg me.”

His finger slipped inside me—one, then two. I gasped as he curled them, finding that spot, make my hips twitch.

“No coming until you ask,” he said. “Understood?”

I nodded, breathless.

He withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth, licked them clean. Then he pushed my skirt and panties down and removed my shirt, exposing me completely. The lamp's light painted my skin gold. Freckles stood out across mychest.

He lowered his head and took my left nipple into his mouth.

The suction was soft at first, barely there. His tongue circled the coral peak, flicking, tasting. I arched into him. He released it with a wet pop, moved to the right, gave it the same attention. My hands found his silver hair, fingers threading through it.

He kissed down my sternum, my ribs, my belly. Each kiss a small flame. When he reached my navel, he circled it with his tongue, then dipped lower.

His mouth found my clit.

The first stroke made me jerk. He was gentle, barely making contact, his breath warm against me. He teased the edges, never the center, until I was squirming, pressing my hips up to his face.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Not yet.”

He moved lower. His tongue traced my inner thigh, my knee, the sensitive crease behind my knee. He lifted my leg, kissed my ankle, my toes. By the time he returned to my core, I was trembling, slick and ready.

He entered my with two fingers, thrusting slowly, while his thumb rubbed myclit in lazy circles. The pleasure built, familiar and maddening. I bit her lip.

“Close,” I breathed.

He stopped. Fingers still inside, thumb still on my clit, but motionless. I groaned in frustration.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want to come.”

“Not yet.” He withdrew, sat up, reached for the nightstand drawer. A small bottle emerged—clear liquid, no label. He poured some onto his fingers, coated them.

“Roll onto your stomach,” he said.

I turned, heart hammering. The black sheet was cool beneath her cheek. He settled beside me, his slick fingers trailing down my spine, over my ass, dipping between mycheeks.

The first touch at my entrance made her flinch. He didn’t push. He circled, spreading the lubricant, pressing lightly, retreating. The sensation was strange—intimate, invasive, not painful yet.

“Breathe,” he murmured.

His finger pressed again, just the tip. I clenched instinctively. He paused, waited, pressed again. The resistance gave. He slid inside—barely an inch—and my breath caught.

“You’re tight,” he said. “So tight.”

He moved in tiny circles, letting me adjust. The feeling was full, foreign, not unpleasant. He withdrew, added more lube, returned with two fingers. The stretch was sharper now. I gripped the sheet.

“Good girl. Taking it so well.”

He worked his fingers deeper, scissoring gently. I felt my body began to loosen, accept him. A warmth spread through my pelvis, unexpected.

He removed his fingers, and I heard the click of the bottle cap again. Then his weight shifted, settling behind me. The head of his cock, slick and warm, pressed against me.

Not pushing. Just resting there.

“Ask me,” he said. “Tell me you want it.”

I was on fire. Empty. The pressure at my back entrance was a question hanging in the air. My body hummed with denied orgasms, with hours of teasing, with the memory of being filled.

“I want it,” she whispered.

“Say it properly.”

I turned her head, met his eyes over my shoulder. “Please. I want you inside me. There. Please.”

"Where"

"In my ass" I pleaded.

He kissed her shoulder blade. “Good girl.”

The pressure increased. The head pushed against me, stretching the ring of muscle. I gasped, fingers curling into fists. He didn’t rush—slow, steady, inch by inch. The burn was intense, a fullness that pressed against my insides in a new direction.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let me in.”

I forced myself to breathe, to relax. The burning eased. He slid deeper, and I felt myself open for him, taking him in. When he was fully seated, he stopped.

“Look at you,” he said. “Taking all of me.”

I couldn’t speak. The sensation was overwhelming—pressure, fullness, a strange pleasure that was still finding its shape. He began to move, slow withdrawals, slow returns. Each stroke sent a wave of sensation through my pelvis, brushing against something deep.

My mouth fell open.

He reached beneath me and found my clit, rubbed in rhythm with his thrusts. The dual sensations merged. The burn faded into heat, into a building pressure that coiled low in my belly.

“I’m going to come,” I said, voice cracked.

“Yes. Come on my cock.”

His thrusts quickened, deeper. His fingers pressed harder. The orgasm rose from that new depth, wilder than before, pulling me under. Crying out, my body clenching around him, my inner walls milking him from a place I never given anyone before.

He followed, his hips stuttering, a low groan escaping his throat. I felt him pulse inside her, hot and deep, filling me in that new channel. His weight pressed me into the mattress as he rode out the aftershocks.

We lay still. His softening cock remained inside me. The full moon flooded the room, illuminating our tangled bodies.

He kissed the back of my neck.

“Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me.”

I didn’t answer. Her cheek rested on the black sheet, her body humming, her mind blank. His seed trickled from her, warm against her skin. I fell asleep in his arms.

Outside, a bird sang. The day stretched ahead, empty and golden.

He withdrew slowly, rolled off, and pulled her against his chest. His hand rested on her stomach, fingers spread.

“Next week,” he said, his voice drowsy. “We’ll try something else.”

She closed her eyes, and let herself sink into the warmth.