Yes. I Want To Cum.

He has to slap me again to make me wake up and reply and I do quickly, gasping and breathing heavily.

"Yes," I tell him, "I want to cum."

Who doesn't? Who could have that feeling and not crave it every moment of their life? Who gets off and then doesn't chase that high the whole rest of their lives.

I'm sure those kind of people exist, but I don't understand them.

"Well that's not going to fucking happen by sucking cock alone."

He slaps my face with his cock once more and I moan, turning and desperately trying to close my lips around the head of him only to have him chuckle and push the thumb on his other hand into my mouth. He sets the flat of it on my tongue and grips the bottom of my chin with his index finger, almost using it like a bit to guide me around. And he does just that, moving my head from side to side while he laughs at me and I whimper, just wanting to taste him again.

"You can cum, though," he muses, "If you're good. And I could make you cum too. I could make you feel absolutely fantastic, darling. Could make your whole fucking world explode. But you've banned me from below your waist."

"I did," I mewl while I suck on his thumb, squirming and thinking about that thick cock pressing against me earlier, thinking about the way my body responded and how fucking good it felt.

"Care to change your mind?" he asks, a bemused smile on his face because he fucking knows the only answer I can give.

I shake my head firmly, or I try to at least. His grip on my tongue and jaw means the movement is rather feeble, but I still manage to make a clear enough move to let my meaning be known.

It isn't going to happen.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs, "But you know what that means, don't you? Means you're not going to get enough from me and though you are so talented with your mouth and your hands, I don't know whether that talent extends to yourself. Not without intervention."

Realization dawns on me and I feel a flush of embarassment come over me and when he releases me I don't rush away, I mostly just shuffle back a bit and adjust so I'm sitting up, my fingers nervously fumbling with the hem of my skirt.

"You want to, darling. Don't deny it. Don't deny yourself. You deserve better than that.

"You deserve to make yourself feel good. You deserve pleasure, to get as good as you give. And I want you to give it to yourself."

"I don't," I say so quiet, mumbling it under my breath as my chest rises and falls.

But even I don't know what meaning behind those words I want to choose. Whether I don't want to deny myself or whether I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Whether I don't think I can help myself or whether I don't think I can quite bring myself to give in.

But as my hands creep the skirt further up my thighs I realize that, like so much of my time spent with this horrible old troll, there is really no one simple answer. There are two polar opposites instead, at odds with each other.

I don't want to touch myself in front of him, letting him know with certainty that I am getting off on him.

I don't want to go another moment without cumming, letting this pressure build up even another notch.

And just like every other time before it is weakness that makes me give in, that makes me fail to hold out. It is weakness that makes me sit back and spread my thighs and pull my panties to one side, revealing myself to him as my fingers gently caress the lips of my sex and I moan, wanton and revealed.

Join my Patreon for only $3 a month and get early access to new chapters and nearly a years worth of exclusive content. https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert