Sammi shook her head.
“Edging? No, what’s that?”
“It’s simply a term for building your sexual need over time until you’re at a ‘fever pitch’ you might say,” Roark told her. He leaned closer, holding her eyes with his. “I want your every thought, your every dream, to be about getting fucked, Samantha,” he growled softly. “And you won’t be allowed to orgasm again until you’re strapped into my insemination machine with a thick phallus buried deep in your hot little cunt. Do I make myself clear?”
Sammi bit her lip as fresh desire rushed through her. She’d always wanted a man who knew how to talk dirty to her, but none of the guys she’d been with previously had any kind of clue how to do it right. The way Roark was looking her directly in the eyes as he told her exactly what he was going to do to her made her pussy throb all over again.
Not that she was going to get any relief, she thought. Not if he really was going to stop her from touching herself somehow.
Although, how could he? It wasn’t like they lived together—how would he know if she gave herself a quick release, here and there, just to take the edge off?
“Please don’t worry that you’ll have difficulty resisting the urge to touch yourself,” Roark said, breaking into her train of thought. “The nipple caps and the Goddess pearl shield will insure that you’re completely unable to reach orgasm, no matter how aroused you may become.”
“The what?” Sammi exclaimed, looking at him guiltily. Had he read her mind?
“Nipple caps are exactly what they sound like,” Roark said. He was already bringing out a little black case. Inside, nestled in white velvet folds, were three small, black devices, Sammi saw. Two of them were conical in shape and the third was somewhat rounder, more of a half-sphere.
“Are those supposed to fit on me somehow?” she asked, frowning. “Are they just to keep me from, uh, touching myself?”
“They will serve that purpose, yes.” Roark nodded. “But they will also serve to keep you stimulated—though never to the point of orgasm. They each have a complicated array of sensors inside that will be able to tell when you’re about to reach the peak—at which point they will cease their stimulation.”
“What? But that sounds like torture!” Sammi exclaimed.
“No, it’s edging—exactly as I told you,” Roark corrected her. “All three of these devices—the nipple caps and the Goddess pearl shield—will send me data to let me know how aroused you are. Though I will, of course, continue to test your lubrication daily here in the lab.”
“Meaning you’re going to be fingering me every day at work?” Sammi asked and then blushed. She couldn’t believe that sentence had come out of her mouth!
But Roark only nodded in a businesslike way.
“Unless you’d prefer I use the instrument I first showed you to gauge your wetness and desire?”
“No.” Sammi bit her lip, embarrassed to admit how much she wanted him to touch her. “No, that…that’s okay. I think it’s better the other way.”
“It’s certainly data I’ll enjoy collecting.” Roark’s voice had dropped to a low growl again. “But as I said, the sensors inside the caps and shield will let me know when you’re at your peak desire—which should coincide with your monthly ovulation. So I’ll need to know about your cycle as well—I’ll have you fill out the paperwork after we finish here.”
“But—” Sammi started to say but Roark only shook his head and went on.
“So let’s reapply a fresh coat of the bonding fruit ointment on both your nipples and your Goddess pearl and then I’ll attach the caps and shield.”
“But I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it!” Sammi protested. “I mean, having the ointment on my clit was bad enough the first time and that was when I could, uh, relive my needs,” she finished, feeling her cheeks get hot.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to stand it, Samantha.” Roark frowned at her. “You must not be allowed to orgasm until you’re strapped into the insemination machine with a thick phallus stretching your tight little pussy. Now please let me see your breasts again.”
Twenty
Roark pulled out a little pot of the pink bonding fruit ointment and waited until she lay back submissively and arched her back to expose her breasts more fully.
Why am I letting him do this?
Sammi didn’t know—she only knew that she had never felt more turned on than when Roark gave her an order—especially a sexual command—and she obeyed it. Did that make her a sexual submissive? And if so, was that bad?
Again, she didn’t know. She watched, nibbling her lower lip in apprehension, as he painted a generous fingerful of the stuff on first one nipple and then the other. After that, he uncapped a tiny tube and dabbed a bit of its contents around the rim of the first nipple cap.