Page 144 of Nash
The third strike lands on the right again, overlapping the first, and the sound she makes is low, animal, pressed through her teeth. "Three." My cock pulses. The connection between the crack of my hand on her skin and the heat building in my body is direct, immediate.
I reach between her cheeks and twist the plug in a slow quarter turn. Her back arches off the bench, her fingers white on the legs.
"Oh fuck. Fuck. Sir."
"Stay still." I push the plug deeper, hold it, then release. "Count."
The fourth strike lands. "Four." Her voice is wrecked. The print of my hand blooms pink on her skin.
The fifth. "Five."
Her pussy glistens between her thighs, swollen, clenching around nothing. The visual makes my mouth water. I want my mouth on her. Want my cock inside her. I want everything at once, and the discipline it takes to stay on the count is costing me as much as it's costing her.
The sixth hits harder than the others, and she cries out loudly, her head dropping between her arms. "S-six."
"Color?"
"Green." Immediate. "Green, Sir. Don't stop."
Seven. Her ass is red and hot under my palm. The heat transfers through my skin. I twist the plug again and she keens, the sound high, broken. My cock jumps at the sound.
"What number, Ruby?"
Silence. Her breathing is ragged. Her mind has gone blank.
"What number?"
"I-I don't—"
"We start over."
"No. No no no. Seven. It was seven. Please, Sir."
The please. Unscripted. Real. It does something to my chest that has nothing to do with sex. I rub her ass gently. Both cheeks. Letting the heat settle. My hands trembling with restraint.
"Seven," I confirm. "Keep counting."
Eight. Nine. Each one followed by a number in a voice I've never heard from her. Stripped. Raw. Each number tightenssomething in my chest alongside the ache in my cock. The arousal and the awe braided together so tight that I can't separate them.
Ten. The final strike. The crack echoes. Her whole body sags against the bench. Her ass is dark red, radiating heat. The plug base sits between her cheeks, her thighs shaking.
"Good girl." I lean over her. Press my mouth to the back of her neck. My cock presses against her ass, hard, and she pushes back against it. "You did so well."
She makes a sound against the leather. Half sob, half laugh. "I can't feel my legs."
"You don't need your legs yet."
I pick up the vibrator from the tray. Click it on. Low setting. Press it against her clit from behind.
She jolts. "Oh god. Oh god, Sir."
Her pussy is swollen, dripping, her clit engorged. The vibrator makes contact, and her hips rock back into it instinctively. I hold it steady, letting the vibration do the work. Within thirty seconds, her thighs are shaking and her breathing has gone rapid and shallow. Watching her build toward an orgasm I'm not going to let her have yet sends a dark, satisfying pulse through my chest. The power of it. The responsibility. The knowledge that her pleasure lives in my hands and I'm choosing to hold it just out of reach.
"Don't come," I say.
"What?"
"You don't come until I say."
