I Examine And Dominate My Ex-boyfriend (5)
“You like what you see?” she asks, wiggling the toys.
My throat goes dry.
Then she catwalks back to the table and climb higher up my torso, straddling my ribs instead of my hips, forcing me to look up at her.
She leans over and grabs my wrists, pulling them up above my head.
My shoulders protest but being this exposed feels more thrilling than painful.
With quick expert movements, she uses the velvet cuff to bind my wrists together, securing them to the metal rail at the head of the table.
My wedding ring presses into the vinyl as she tightens the restraint… a small, cruel reminder of the vows I’m practically throwing away.
“Don’t dare move them,” she hisses, leaning close enough for her breath to warm my ear. “One twitch, and I stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”
“No, Mistress,” I gasp.
The title slips free before I can stop it… old muscle memory. For a second I wish I could pull it back. But her smile says it’s already too late.
She is enjoying this—the absolute control over the man who broke her heart.
I probably can’t heal her, but I can make her feel what she craves one last time.
She slides off me and reaches for the vibrator. The silver metal is cold and sharp against my inner thigh as she tests the weight.
She presses the button and the low hum vibrates through the table and under my thighs.
Her eyes glint as she leans closer, letting her hair brush my chest. A fingertip traces the pulse along my inner thigh before the cold tip touches the base of my cock.
My body arches instinctively and her sharp laugh echoes in the room.
I haven’t had this feeling in what feels like ages.
“Aww, that’s just the lowest level,” she murmurs, watching the reaction ripple through my body. “Just enough to remind you I hold the key to your release. Clearly you’ve been starved for this… I can feel how desperate you are.”
“Yes… please… I need it, Mistress,” I gasp, chest heaving.
“Mmm, you needy little slut,” she purrs, dragging her nails lightly over my thighs. “Look at you… begging… leaking for me. And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
She works the vibrator slowly up the length of my cock, focusing on the sensitive underside, circling the head before pulling away, only to return to the pulsating base.
I fight to stay still but my hips jerk and shudder, breath ragged, vision blurring under the assault of sensation.
The clinical lights feel like spotlights on my shame and I can’t look away from her face. Her eyes are dark and alive with the intoxicating power of my submission.
Then suddenly, something shifts. It’s subtle, like a switch flipping behind her expression.
“You broke me,” she says, voice low. “Now I’m going to break you—and make you beg for the pieces.”
“Mis…” I moan, barely hearing my own voice over the fire in my veins.
“I said not a word!” she hisses, snapping the whip against my skin.
She pushes the control button again.
The buzz jumps to a deeper, fiercer thrum. It sends a violent tremor through my entire core as the edge of sensation pulls me toward a sharp, impossible peak.
My cock strains painfully beneath her teasing touch.
She drags the vibrator away, running it lightly across my inner thighs, across my stomach, stopping just above my lips before going back to my dick.
“Level three,” she says, the sound of the machine now a high-pitched whine.
My mind flashes to my wife, to the life I swore was safe. I wish I could block it, forget the guilt, and just sink into this torture.
But it’s almost impossible.
Then Chloe’s touch, her control, scorches everything else away.
The vibration is explosive, like pure electricity tearing through me.
My shame tastes like fire on my tongue and I realize I want her. More than I ever imagined I could.
There’s no room left for decency here. It is what it is.
I let out a loud, choked scream of pure pleasure. The velvet cuffs dig into my wrists as I thrash, tight enough to hold me but not enough to break free.
She leans down, her hair cascading over my chest. Her lips are close to my ear. “How does it feel, Dean,” she whispers. “You can’t even hold still for your Mistress.”
My breath shudders out before I can stop it. “It’s—too much,” I gasp, thighs trembling. “I don’t—”
Her smile ghosts over my ear. “You can,” she whispers. “And you will.”
She presses the button again.
The intensity doubles. It’s a punishing, relentless jackhammer of excitement that makes every muscle in my body lock. The vibrator is centered on the throbbing head of my cock, driving me to the brink of release in seconds but I know she won’t let me.
Tears sting my eyes. It’s too much…yet too good and not enough.
“Tell me what you want, Dean,” she commands, her voice cutting sharp.
“Please, Mistress. Just let me cum.” My voice fractures on the last word. “Even if it’s just a drop—please.”
She pulls the vibrator away—not off, just down—and presses it against the sensitive spot between my balls and anus, where every nerve is already on fire from the prostate exam. The sensation is delicious torture.
“You don't get to decide when it’s too much,” she hisses, eyes dark.
My hips jerk uselessly, hands straining against the cuffs. Her fingers tighten, the vibrator pressing again and I realize with a shudder that I will take exactly what she gives.
Then she just looks at me, chest rising, eyes flicking to my wedding ring again. Something flickers there: guilt maybe, or memory. But it’s gone before I can name it.
Then she increases the pace.
The machine’s whine spikes, shrill and merciless.
She leans in. “You begged me like this before, didn’t you? You remember pleading to be my perfect, obedient whore?”
Her pupils dilate, breath catching mid-command. The edge of her mouth trembles before she bites it back into a smile.
I shiver, flashbacks of nights spent under her hands flooding me.
She is breathing hard now, the exertion and the sight of my surrender fueling her own dark desire. She leans down and uses her free hand to gently cup my balls, adding a new, intense pressure.
“Say it. The part where you forget her name and remember who made you beg.”
I try to hold her gaze, to stay silent, but the words rip free anyway. “You. I remember you.”
“Good.”
She holds the vibrator steady at the most sensitive spot on the tip of my cock, pushing me right to the peak. I feel the intense pre-ejaculatory spasm hit my groin.
Then, she snaps the machine off. The silence is immediate and brutal.
My body flops back onto the table, shaking violently. The denial is a physical pain that makes me gasp.
I stare up at her, utterly defeated, my cock pulsing and raw.
She smiles slowly, running the cold, now-silent vibrator down my chest.
“Oh, Dean. I’ve not even started with you.” She tosses the vibrator onto the sterile tray with a small metallic clang. “Now let’s see how much control you really have.”
She pulls a scarf from somewhere behind her and wraps it around my eyes. The world goes silent for a moment.
She leaves me trembling on the cold table, the scent of her still on my tongue.
I lie there, cuffed, blindfolded and shaking. All I can do is listen and I hear her ransacking her bag again.
Her heels click on the floor, and then the whisper of leather trails up and down my legs, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
She snaps it hard against my stomach.
“Fuck!” The word rips out of.
“Yes, Dean. Fuck you.” She murmurs.
She spreads my legs apart, dragging the whip along my inner thighs, tracing up to my navel before teasing the tip against my cock.
She whips me once more across my chest and arm. The sting sears through me, sharp enough to draw a shuddering moan instead of a cry.
It hurts. But it’s the kind of hurt I’ve been craving.
“Oh my God, Chloe…”
“Chloe?” Her voice cuts sharp. “Who the fuck is Chloe?”
“Mistress… Mistress,” I stammer.
A beat of silence. Then her tone melts, low, dark, and satisfied. “Good boy.”
She drops the whip and wraps her hand around my cock, squeezing and stroking it gently.
The feeling is maddening, but I want more.
“Mistress,” I beg, the title tasting like ash and desire. “Please. I need you to use me. I need your mouth on my cock. Please, punish me with your touch.”
She laughs, a low, throaty sound that vibrates through my chest. “Such a desperate little whore you are.”
“Yes, yes please. I’m your whore. Use me.”
I can’t see her, but I can picture the smirk on her face right now.
I feel her tying something around my balls, tightening it just enough to make every pulse sharper. The pressure sends a rush straight up my spine, turning every throb into a deeper ache.
It’s unbearable in the best way possible.
Her spit slicks my cock. Her fingers stroke and her teeth graze slightly. My back bucks, desperate for more of her control.
She leans down, lips wrapping around my cock and the world narrows to her touch.
Then—a sharp buzz makes me freeze. My stomach knots. From my pile of clothes… my phone.