He tensed. “What?”
“You look so fucking hot, Gib. Seriously.”
He rolled his lips together, the praise strumming something inside him. “Thank you, mistress.”
She climbed onto his legs then, kneeling on his calves and giving him a hint of pain, holding him down with her weight. She adjusted the toy, making his muscles ripple with tension again, and then the thing came to life, buzzing inside him. He nearly leapt off the bench, but she held on to him, draping herself over his back. “Easy, there, big guy.”
The toy hummed inside him, waking up nerves he didn’t know he had, the outside of it teasing his taint and the inside stimulating a spot that felt so fucking good, he couldn’t help but buck his hips. He tried to breathe through it, tried to ride the pleasure without letting it overcome him. He would not come. He could beat this. Mind over matter. But as the vibration went on, the need inside him only got stronger, more intense. Sweet, throbbing pain. “Shit.”
Sam pressed a kiss to his bound hands. “It’s okay. Let it take you. Come for me, Gib.”
The vibrator was relentless, the pleasure near painful in its intensity. It was stealing his control over his own body. Anxiety swept through him.
“No,” he choked out. “Please, not like this. Let me . . .” He turned his head, pressing his forehead to the bench, trying to hold the pleasure back. The thing was humming against his prostate, torturing him with the need to come. His body wanted to fuck, wanted to break free of the bindings, grab Sam, and pound into her with violence. He didn’t want it like this, didn’t want to spill on the floor like some animal without having even touched her. He’d told her he’d last for her, and he wanted to. But his body and will were being stolen more and more by the second.
His hips started moving on their own, humping the air, even as she held on to him, stayed atop his legs.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Sam . . . please. I want you.”
“No. Let it have you, Gib. Give in to it. To me. You can’t stop it. You can’t control it. Let it have you.”
His body jerked and bucked and he cried out, fighting hard against the tide of sensation. “I can’t. Please. Not like this.”
He could only imagine what the camera was seeing, a grown man fucking the air like some pathetic, desperate thing.
She grabbed his wrists, holding on. And he thought for a minute, she was going to listen, let him go. But she didn’t uncuff him. Instead, she dug her nails into the tender skin there. “That’s it, gorgeous. It’s not for you to decide. Your body is mine. You have no control right now. Rut like a beast and come all over yourself. Make a mess, Gib.”
Mortification bled through him at the way he was moving, the sounds he was making, but he couldn’t stop what the stimulation was doing to him. He would kill to get a hand on his cock, to squeeze the base, to stop this. To win. But it was no use. There was nowhere to go. “Turn it off, Sam!”
“Is that a safe word?” she asked, voice cool.
His teeth gnashed together. He wasn’t going to give up to this goddamned toy, and he wasn’t going to safe word. “It’s not going to work.”
The words were desperate, ragged, his voice not his own.
Sam climbed off of him and the bench scraped against the floor as he continued to thrust. She would stop it. She would turn it off. She knew she’d pushed him too far. He’d be okay.
Then fire lit him up again. Pain struck like a lightning bolt to his thigh. “Fuck!”
Not a cane this time. A riding crop. She wasn’t putting a halt to the thing. She was going to hurt him more. Hot bursts of agony rained down in sharp, unrelenting bites against his skin. Bee stings. All over the backs of his thighs, his ass, right atop the toy, even one to each of the soles of his feet.
“Look how much my boy can take. How determined he is,” Sam said from behind him, sexy pride in her voice. She hit his ass again with full strength. “He’s so very beautiful. And stubborn.”
Sweat stung his eyes even though he had them squeezed shut. “I can’t, mistress. I can’t . . .”
But his thoughts were fuzzing around the edges, his senses crossing over themselves and everything bleeding together. He tried to hold on, tried to keep his focus, but it was like sand through his fingers. A loud whooshing sound filled his ears.
Then he felt the cool handle of her crop tickling his inner thigh.
“I said, come for me.” The crop snapped upward, lighter than the hits to his back but stinging and wicked on the base of his balls.
Light bursts behind his eyes, everything turning to shards of broken images in his vision, and he rose up from the bench, back arching and neck bared. A roar of desperation came from deep within his chest. And for the first time in his life, he came without his cock being touched. Hot jets of semen shot out of him with almost painful force, landing on his stomach and thighs, the floor, the orgasm seeming to go on and on. He shouted, his voice grating over his vocal cords and echoing off the walls.
His breath sawed out of him and his head felt like it was going to split down the middle. But right as it was starting to feel like too much, like he’d jump out of his skin, Sam had a hand on his shoulder and was sliding the toy out, raining gentle words over him.
“It’s okay. Breathe. I’ve got you. Just breathe it out.” She eased him back down to the bench and once he was solidly on it, uncuffed his hands and legs, rubbing his wrists and ankles as she did it.
He tried to say something, to grab on to a thought, but his words were drifting by like clouds, wispy and impossible to capture as he tried to regain control of his breathing. His hips still rocked, gently now, a ghost of a movement, searching for something, searching for her. He needed to focus, needed to . . . he wasn’t sure.