I’m so confused about this entire line of conversation. He’s just standing there, looking down at me with blazing eyes, like he’s expecting me to slither out of my restraints and fetch him some wine glasses.
Or a fancy decanter.
He sweeps his gaze down my body and settles it on my crotch. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘drinking from a furry cup?’”
“No.”
Even as I shake my head, my mind already forms the image of Professor Segul with his head buried between my legs, eating my pussy until I squirt.
My skin tingles with anticipation, and my hips make involuntary jerks as though trying to attract his attention.
His dark chuckle makes my breath quicken. “You’re about to discover exactly what it means.”
Professor Segul sets the wine bottle down on the trolley with a thunk, and some of the tension I’ve been holding in my belly relaxes. Even my toes curl because they know what’s happening next.
He walks around the gyno chair and positions himself between my legs before lowering himself into that seat.
I gulp, my nipples tightening.
This is it.
The moment he finally gets me off. He’s probably the type of man who needs to wash the taste down with a swig of wine. I don’t care, as long as I get my orgasm.
He runs the tips of his fingers along the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, setting my skin alight with sensation. All the pleasure skitters up my nerves and settles into my clit.
I jerk within my restraints. “Aaaah!”
“Indeed.” He reaches for the trolley and picks up the knife.
My pulse quickens. “Knife play is fine, as long as it’s to tear off my underwear.”
“Thank you for your unnecessary words of approval,” he says with a snort and cuts the side of my knickers with a snick.
Any other time, I would bristle at his sarcasm, but I’m a girl tied up and at the mercy of a sexual sadist. I’ll have to hold my tongue and not distract him with backtalk if I’m ever going to get off.
The fabric dangles toward the opposite thigh, and a cool breeze wafts across my wet folds. I curl as much of my upper body as I can toward the professor to find him staring at my exposed pussy.
“What an appetizing sight,” he says in a voice deep enough to twist my insides into knots.
Shut up and eat me, I want to say, but instead, I murmur. “I’m so wet for you.”
“I see that.” He runs a slow finger from my opening, making an obscene squelch as he traces a circle around that sensitive entrance.
My hips jerk because I need that finger inside me right now, but he moves it away. I’m about to groan with frustration, but he makes that same circling motion around my clit.
“There’s no need whatsoever for additional lubrication,” he says, almost sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Not when there’s already so much here.”
My heart pounds, each beat reverberating across my ribs. What’s he going to do? Stick two fingers inside me or his cock?
He does neither.
Professor Segul reaches toward the trolley and picks up the wine bottle.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my eyes bulging.
“Were you not paying attention when I shared with you the importance of a good decanter.”
“Of course,” I say, “but what are you going to do with that bottle?”