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One word, one syllable, one breath was full of me, full of my eagerness, full of my crazy manic lust for him.
It was all I could say, the only word needed to convey all I wanted, needed, desired in that moment.
Even with ropes around my torso, my arms restrained, my legs bound, on my knees, my eyes shrouded, still I begged for it. I could feel it, just beyond my lips, just beyond my reach. I could almost taste it, almost taste him, so close to my lips.
His hands in my hair, holding back my head, holding back my lips. He needed to grip tight. My desire was great. But this he well knew.
Even with his digits gripping my strands, even with his ropes binding me tight, I forced myself forward. I pulled, pushed myself with all my might. I wanted it, I wanted him so very much.
I imagined the dark smile on his face. The sinister grin I loved to see on him. The pleasure he took from holding me back. Making me wait. Making me beg. Seeing my desire. My carnal lust. My horny need. My sexual pain.
He knew I was soaking wet. He knew what I craved. He dangled the carrot just beyond me, just close enough to still give me hope.
Bound, on the floor, knelt, waiting. I had heard him sit. Heard his zipper creep down. Felt his knees graze arms. Felt the heat of him so near me.
When I dared to lean forward, when I dared to seek my pleasure, when for once I was a brat, his fingertips pressed into my biceps, pushing me back.
My lips had grazed him, had grazed the beautiful cock I knew so well. A taste. Only the quickest of tastes before he pulled me off, pushed away.
And then the begging started. And the hair pulling. And I could almost hear the smile as it formed on his face.
“Please. Please. Please.”
And, finally, who knows how many minutes of agony later, I said, “Thank you.”
He slapped my ass and replied, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
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