Samia panted for breath, feeling the warm cum on her face and body turn sticky.
“That was so good,” said Varga.
He handed Samia a rag and she wiped herself clean the best she could. It all still felt sticky; she knew that feeling pretty well. When she was done, she looked deep into his eyes, pleadingly.
“You want to cum?” He smirked.
She nodded; her eyes filled with need.
“As part of your punishment, I think you should wait.”
“You’re cruel, sir.”
He leant close and kissed her forehead. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
She’d never felt more teased and frustrated in her life. But Varga was right, it was all part of their roles. If he helped him forgive her, then maybe it was good. She squeezed her legs together; she wanted to cum so bad.
“What if I beg like a good ****?” She got down on her knees beside the bed, looking up at him.
He patted her head. “Not tonight, ****. You need to think about what you did. And if you make yourself cum, there’ll be consequences.”
“Yes, sir.” She looked down. “I should sleep on the floor, like Fiorella suggested. We need to stay in our roles, to get ourselves prepared for next week.”
“If you insist.”
Samia laid on the floor beside the bed, naked and frustrated.
