#torture comes in many shapes
“Sometimes a man just wants to explore what he’s conquered.”
Pin me down and assault me with your mouth.
Ropes and cuffs aren’t necessary when your body is equally as capable of enslaving me. Your bare hands and sheer force would be enough. That’s how you’d fool me into thinking that I’m in for a night of roughness, by aggressively pinning my wrists to the mattress and immobilizing my legs with yours. Little would I know that you’re not about to fuck me until I’m sore. You’re not about to leave vicious little bite marks across my writhing body, like you’d done before. No, tonight you’re going to contrast the force of your touch with the softness of your mouth. You are going to be painfully slow and unbearably gentle, and that will be my torture.
For a girl like me, the feeling of your lips slowly moving from my jaw to my neck would be agony. I’d shiver and squirm against your grip, wanting you to move faster, lower. You’d lick me across my collarbones, and I’d expect you to bite. I’d want you to bite. You wouldn’t, not this time. Instead, you’d continue on down to my heaving breasts, flick your tongue over a nipple and harden it. Oh, you’d spend a long time there. You’d spend decades just licking and sucking and grazing your teeth over my desperate tits. I’d be pulling against your merciless hands, practically wrestling you, but you’d be much too strong. You’d order me still and I’d feel my skin throbbing against your fingers, feel the red marks they’d undoubtedly be hiding.
It wouldn’t be until you got to my navel that I’d really start begging. I’d beg you to fuck me now, to give me your cock, to stop the ruthless movement of your mouth and take. You’d tell me to hush. Sometimes a man just wants to explore what he’s conquered. The lower you’d go, the slower you’d go, and the more time you’d spend on the most sensitive parts of me. Like that little spot above my abdomen, the spot that makes all my muscles clench. Or that little crevice right above my clit, so close to where I ache. My pussy would be so wet and needy for your lips, but you’d evade it. You’d concentrate on my inner thighs, on anywhere but the soaking wet hole you own, and I’d be powerless. So powerless.
Once you’d give in and finally lick my needy pussy, once you’d bring me to the edge with that torturous mouth of yours, only then would you loosen your grip a little.
But you wouldn’t let me go until I let go, screaming my gratitude.
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