Page 48 of Payback
“I don’t understand why I should go over the same spot twice. It doesn’t make sense,” she retorted.
“Because I instruct you to,” I retorted back.
“But...”
Growing weary of this, I snatched the remote from my pocket, raising it in the air. Her eyes widened as I turned it on. Alison emitted a groan, her hand reaching out to clutch a shelf while her other arm wrapped around her middle, as if shielding herself from a blow. Her guard quickly dropped, a satisfying smile forming on my lips as I observed her surrender to the waves of pleasure.
“Oh, fuck...” she gasped, but I promptly relented. She exhaled, appearing relieved.
“Now, what were you saying about that dirty spot?” I questioned.
She shot me a glare, then turned to dust off the same spot, which left me content. That was precisely what I desired: complete submission without protest. She understood this, yet she was also Alison Brown—the girl accustomed to a leadership role. Now, she was downgraded to the status of a mere slave. The sight was more gratifying than words could express. I maintained my smile as she continued cleaning the living room. When she approached to wipe the coffee table, I subtly reached for the remote in my pocket, activating it once more. This time, there was no warning to the teasing. She nearly lost her balance as the vibrations overcame her, causing her to slump into a half-bent position on her knees. Groaning, she lifted her accusatory gaze to meet mine.
“Yes?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Please... turn it off,” she implored.
There was nothing in this world sweeter than hearing Alison beg. The dark satisfaction it brought was unparalleled, truly addictive.
“Stop what?” I replied.
“Oh, fuck...” she muttered, lifting her arm to rest it on the coffee table. She used her hand to shield her eyes, striving to control her impending climax. Her struggle was captivating. She then brought her hand to her mouth, biting down on it. “God…”
“I doubt God is listening,” I chuckled, turning a page. “Now, continue.”
“What?” she whispered.
“I said continue. You’re not even halfway through, and I want this room spotless before dinner.”
“I... can’t move.”
“You can. Keep going,” I instructed.
Her eyes bore into me, brimming with anger, yet it was difficult to ignore the simmering heat within them. Slowly, Alison pressed her hand onto the coffee table, struggling to rise. It was akin to watching a newborn fawn attempting to stand on wobbly legs. Trembling violently, she reached for the cloth to resume cleaning the table, moving it in painstakingly slow circular motions. The task was hindered by the pleasure building inside her. The setting wasn’t intense enough to immobilize her, but the sensation was growing.
“Oh, shit...” she exhaled, shutting her eyes.
Merely witnessing her struggle made my blood pump faster. Looking down, I noticed my cock had grown harder, a reaction that pain typically triggered in me. However, there was something about Alison’s distress that acted like a potent aphrodisiac. I couldn’t resist reacting. I understood my interference would disrupt her work, yet my cock was throbbing insistently, and as my slave, she existed to fulfill my needs.
“Fuck, I can’t concentrate like this,” she pled, turning toward me.
“Want me to stop?” I asked.
“Yes, please, Master,” she implored.
My head spun with desire at that plea. She had become adept at adopting the persona of a compliant slave, eager to satisfy me. Gesturing for her to approach, she complied.
“On your knees.”
She promptly obeyed, and with swift movements, I began undoing my pants. Impatience coursed through me. I craved her immediately. There was no room for teasing. Her moans and protests were driving me wild. I lowered my pants sufficiently to free my erection. Then, seizing her hair, I guided her closer. This time, she approached eagerly, drawn by the promise of my relenting. It was fascinating how easily she submitted now. However, I recognized she regarded this as a task, rather than something to revel in. I aimed to change that perspective. Taking control of her head, I guided her at a deliberate pace before reaching for the remote once again. Swiftly switching it to a higher setting, I caught her off guard. Only her stifled whimper indicated her relentless teasing.
“Fuck, you love taking my cock down your throat, don’t you?” I exhaled, urging her to quicken her pace. My intention was to blur her thoughts, forging fresh neural connections that fused this moment with pleasure. Each time she sucked my cock, I aimed for her to remember this ecstasy, to become aroused by having me inside her mouth. “You love having your Master’s cock buried deep.”
Guiding her head with greater urgency, I sensed the beginning of a powerful orgasm. However, I was determined that Alison would climax during this act. Her mind needed to link this instant with unadulterated pleasure. Amid her muffled whimpering and supplications—at least, I presumed those were her pleas—she resisted the association’s formation. Yet, as my submissive, she had no choice. She belonged to me, my dirty slut.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” I taunted.
She whimpered, and I turned up the intensity. Another elevated pitch of complaint escaped her, a tease for both of us. And then, it happened. She dug her nails into my thighs, her body convulsing as I sustained the movement of her head. An orgasm engulfed me as she continued to climax. Her concentration faltered. She struggled to focus on swallowing, causing her lips and chin to be smeared with saliva and cum. The sight that only fueled my arousal further was my little slave unable to contain all my cum while in the throes of her own release. When I was spent, I deactivated the vibrator, but Alison trembled uncontrollably under my touch. A satisfied smile played across my lips as I withdrew her from me. She gazed up at me, an expression of profound devastation in her eyes. Her silent plea for the torment to cease formed in them. Her mouth and chin were adorned with a mixture of fluids, and her hair was slightly disheveled from my firm grasp. This was the state I desired her to be in—completely shattered.
