And that's exactly what he does.
For what feels like hours—though it's probably only thirty minutes—he works my body expertly. Fingers, tongue, the edge of his teeth. He learns every spot that makes me gasp, every pressure point that makes me moan. He brings me to the edge five, six, seven times, and each time, just as I'm about to tip over, he stops.
I'm sobbing by the fourth edge, begging shamelessly.
"Please, Sir, please let me c*m. I'll do anything. Anything. Please—"
"Anything?" he asks, and I feel him shift on the bed.
"Yes. Anything. Just please—"
"Then take my c**k down your throat while you're tied like this. Let me f**k your face until I c*m. And maybe—maybe—I'll let you finish after."
I feel him straddle my chest, feel the heat of his c**k near my face, and open my mouth
