Playtime

She dreamed about Christine. Of their last encounter. That is, until he bit her shoulder. She awoke with a scream, feeling the pressure of his teeth on her skin.



"Please," the word escaped unbidden. She didn't want to beg him for anything. Had resisted it for so very long that it felt like she'd betrayed herself, betrayed everything she'd been fighting for this whole damn time. The sob that wracked her made him giggle.



"Oh my precious," He kissed the aching spot just below her collar. "I've been waiting for so long for you to say that word." His tongue flicked out, caught her earlobe, made her jerk.



"No, I wasn't-"



"It doesn't matter," His hand cupped her cheek, lifting it away from the wooden table. "Your time has run out."



Fear paralyzed her. After all that, he was just going to kill her? All that nonsense about her being too valuable to break was just a lie? As odd as it was to consider your captor honest, she hadn't thought he'd lied to her. She'd trusted his words. Thought she'd known what he intended with his actions. But now it was over. She drew in a shaking breath, steeling herself for her impending death.



Then he laughed, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "Your face..." he continued laughing as he stepped away from her. "It was so priceless..." He smacked her rear in what she could only describe as an affectionate manner. "Oh, my dear, dear profligate. No. My patron wants you alive. If you die, it won't be by my hand...



"Still, his patience grows thin. It's time to move on." His hands skimmed along her sides, catching her at her hips and adjusting her position. He slapped her ass again, as though warming her up. It worked. The heat built, beginning where his hand smacked, then coiling low in her belly. Her overwrought body was so ready that she nearly came just from the first touch of his finger.



But he was nothing if not deliberate, and his actions were carefully controlled to keep her going without granting her release. His fingers parted her folds, and his tongue found her core, circling around it with that same control, teasing her, and building her arousal until she was shoving her hips back with wild abandon, hoping against hope that he'd slip up and let her come.



It was not to be.



Once more he retreated just before she reached her peak. This time, however, his departure was brief. There was a rustle of fabric, and then he was there, his hardness pressing against her entrance. She squirmed, no longer sure if she was trying to avoid him or speed the process along. He laughed, and pressed forward with agonizing slowness.



He withdrew, just as slowly, before pressing in once more with just a little more speed. The feeling was intense, her need making her press back against him wantonly. Still, he was slower than she wanted, than she needed, for all that he was moving faster with each thrust.



It was his hand fisting in her hair which sent her over the edge. His fingers tangled in her short locks, pulling, and making her arch her back. The sensation was powerful. She screamed her release, clenching around him. It felt like it went on forever, making her whole body spasm in equal parts ecstasy and pain. He grunted and thrust hard a few more times, spending himself in her.



He let her hair go. Her head fell back to the table with a soft thud. As her breathing slowed, the shame descended, and her tears began in earnest. There was no masking them this time as full sobs made her body shake.



"Good girl," he said, patting her head and leaving her alone with aftershocks and misery.