The timer goes off and I’m shaking on the edge but not over it, my fingers still working frantically, tears streaming down my face.
“Stop.”
I don’t stop. I can’t stop – I’m right there, one more second –
He crosses the room in two strides and rips my hand away from my p***y.
“I said stop.”
I sob. Actually sob, the denied orgasm receding, my body aching with frustrated need.
“That was your first failure,” he says calmly. “We’ll work on it. By the end of three days, you’ll c*m when I tell you to. On command. Because you’ll learn that I control everything – including when you get to feel pleasure.”
He releases my wrist. Steps back.
“Now. Let’s try again. Forty-five seconds this time.”
He makes me try seven times.
Forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds. Twenty. I fail every single attem
