Welcome Wipsters to Wip it Up – the chance for authors and bloggers to share some work in progress.
I’m sharing another extract (unedited) from the final part of my Sublime Trust trilogy. It follows on, roughly, from the previous week. Jason and Gemma are discussing rules, or as Jason prefers to see them, his expectations, one being his wish to control her orgasms – warning, hot sex follows 🙂
I rested against his chest and the piece of paper slipped onto the table. The discussion about rules had brought out deeper desires and they focused my thoughts on one area of my anatomy. A tingle, a tiny jangle of nerve endings fired up below and Jason responded, nudging my bottom with his stiffening cock. I jived on his lap, casting aside my doubts, remembering nothing else mattered if we had each other.
“Let’s practise now, shall we?” He jabbed my arm with his thumb.
We headed straight to the dungeon lair, the room we kept locked and only Jason had the key. I waited behind him as he unlocked the door, my delight showing in my fidgeting shuffle. Jason’s new rules came to life the moment he had me in that windowless room surrounded by all his kinky equipment.
If there was manual to my libido, then Jason had opened it up at my favourite page. The softest flogger to warm me up and the binding of my wrists to the bedposts rendering me helpless. The exquisite use of his mouth on my pussy lips until he could lick me out with his tongue. The voyage of the pinwheel over my ticklish flesh until I thought he might score a line on me. To all these he added his most sensual voice, whispering in my ears. He called me ‘his girl’, ‘wanton’ and other explicit dirty words of intent.
My response was evident between my legs and it eased his efforts in fucking my bound body. His teeth nibbled, fingers plucked and he pinched in accompaniment to his thrusts. With each swing of his hips, I stretched and clenched about his enlarging cock. What drove me wild was waiting for permission. Several times, I opened her mouth to speak, to plead, then remembered he had instructed me to wait for his command.
Command. Even the word itself made me drip for him. As he teased me with his body, he tormented me with his words.
“You’re ready, babe?”
I nodded, more with my quivering chin than my head, prompting his mouth to descend on mine, smothering my lips.
He rocketed inside me, grinding deeper. The friction of his cock felt exquisite, delivering an intense fullness and I could do nothing with my hips to respond. No arching back to meet his thrusts or wrapping my legs around his waist to hold him in my own embrace – those limbs he had dealt with in one of his preferred styles of bondage. “So close aren’t you, my little subbie. I can feel the tightness. The desperate pulse in your wet cunt.”
“Oh fuck!” I hollered.
“Don’t,” he warned, dipping down, touching his nose on my forehead. “I decide. You’re all mine remember. This fuck hole of yours will answer to me. Hold it!”
I was accustomed to waiting, having him lead me to my climax and letting him give it to me. I lacked the ability to tell him how desperate, how impossible it was to hold off my orgasm, words escaped unable to form in my mouth. Instead, I panted. Jason rocked in and out of me, breaching all of my natural defences. Depth had been achieved, now he picked up his pace and force.
“Oh!” I screamed. “No, no!”
I didn’t mean stop. I had other words to bring Jason to a halt. My words of power and protection. It was my own orgasm I shouted out to and gritting my teeth, I pulled hard on my restraints. Arms spread-eagled to the bedposts, legs tucked up with knees bound to elbows. My exposed position served only to make me vulnerable and gave Jason full access to all he needed.
“Perhaps I might delve into your arsehole,” he threatened with a smile. “So unbearably close aren’t you? Me too.”
Suddenly he withdrew and I expected him to plunder my other fuck hole, but instead he leaned back and stared at me for a few seconds. His face became stern and his eyes shot down with their intense blueness, drilling into my skull. I teetered on a brink, a precipice of an amazing orgasm but he had taken away all tactile stimulation and left the one thing I found most tantalising and alluring – his voice.
He kissed my forehead, then spoke, “Come,” and I did with a long drawn out howl of accomplishment, driven crazy by my spasms and cramping swirls emanating from my clitoris.
As I shrieked, he covered me with his body and continued his remorseless pummelling until he achieved an intense climax, spurting over my belly and breasts. With his hands, he squeezed out every last drop of his nectar.
“Well done, babe,” he said, softly kissing my sweaty brow. “See, this is just the beginning. By the time I’ve trained you, just the sound of my voice alone will do it for you.”
For some bizarre reason, I believed him.
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