“I’m glad to provide you with such scintillating entertainment,” I snarl. “Have you satisfied your dark passenger? Mine wants you to eat my pussy.”
Slap.
The palm strike on my inner thigh sends reverberations traveling down to my wet pussy.
My face goes perfectly still.
I’ll be damned if I admit that I found it hot.
“Fascinating.” He runs the wheel up to the other side of my areola and back down.
Back and forth he goes, the infernal device squeaking, just in case its victim isn’t aware that they’re being stabbed over and over with the needles of a metallic wheel.
The muscles of my pussy clench and relax in time with its movements, and my eyes roll toward the back of my head.
Professor Segul moves the wheel to my other breast and then presses a soft kiss on the tortured nipple.
“You have beautiful breasts.” His hot breath grazes my skin through the lace.
“Is looking all you’re going to do with them?” I ask, my voice strained.
“For now.” He moves away from my breast with a smirk and continues to torment my other nipple.
I was horny this morning. Horny when I dressed up like a female flasher. Horny when I traveled on the bus with only a raincoat to cover my shame. I thought that by now he would have fucked me over the dining table, but we still haven’t even gotten started.
Now the level of arousal I’ve reached is unbearable.
The part of me that wanted to wean him off humiliating me crumbles, and the rest of my pride turns to ash.
“Please,” I whisper.
The perverted pinwheel pauses. “Is there something you wish to share, Miss Stahl?
“I need…”
“Yes?” He leans down toward me, his breath warming my neck.
“You know.”
“One should never presume,” he says. “Unless you enunciate precisely what you need.”
“Fuck me,” I say from between clenched teeth.
He picks up the Swiss Army knife-looking device and pulls out a corkscrew.
My eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
“Are you thirsty, Miss Stahl?”
“No,” I snap. “You already gave me plenty to drink.”
His deep chuckle makes my skin tighten. Why is he thinking about wine at a time like this?
Professor Segul trails the fingers of one hand down my ribcage, making me lean into his touch. At last, something that isn’t a slap.
As his hand reaches the waistband of my knickers, my hips rise with expectation.
“Take them off.” I whisper. “Cut them if you must.”