Page 34 of The Freeuse Proposal
“Where did you go just now, pet?” His voice cuts through the haze. His fingers still. “Something made you react differently.”
I can’t answer. Can’t articulate the forbidden thing I was imagining. The shame would surface if I were more present, but I’m too far under to feel anything except the echo of that fantasy and the hunger it’s left behind.
He doesn’t push. Just watches me with those knowing eyes and continues his torment.
He brings me to the brink again, and this time I scream. Yet I still don’t come.
Hours. It’s been hours.
The light outside has gone golden, then dim. Every nerve ending is exposed and screaming. There are tear tracks on my face. I don’t remember starting to cry, but I can feel the dampness on my cheeks, taste salt when I lick my lips.
My ass is warm and sensitive from the spanking, each shift of my hips a reminder of everything he’s done to me. The marks feel like ownership.
Verbal communication is nearly impossible now. The begging has devolved into sounds that aren’t quite language. My mind is a blank white space where thought used to live—empty except for feeling, except for him.
Leo’s face swims into focus above me. His expression is intense but not cruel. There’s something almost soft in the way he watches me shake apart.
“Color, Alice.” His voice is firm. “I need words. Or tap if you can’t speak.”
It takes everything I have to surface enough to speak. I could tap three instead, but I need him to know I want this. The word feels like it’s coming from somewhere outside myself, dragged up from deep water.
“Green.” My voice cracks on the single syllable. “Please. Please.”
He studies me for a long moment. “One more, lass.” His voice catches, almost rough, like he’s fighting to hold the line himself.His thumb strokes my cheek, wiping away tears. “Give me one more, and then I’ll let you fall.”
I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if there’s anything left of me to give. But I nod anyway, because he’s asking and I would give him anything just to hear him tell me I’m good.
He brings me to the brink with his fingers one final time, and I break.
Not into orgasm—into something else. The tension shatters but doesn’t release, and I’m sobbing, clinging to him, trembling everywhere. He holds me through it, murmuring praise and reassurance, and somewhere in the wreckage of my thoughts I understand that this was the point. Not the orgasm. The surrender.
“That’s it, sweet girl. You did it. You gave me everything.”
His words wash through me like light.
“Now, lass. Come for me now.”
His cock’s inside me. I don’t remember when that happened, time is still slippery. His hand is between us, fingers on my clit. I hear him reach for the nightstand, the velvet bag, and then a vibrator buzzes against oversensitized flesh.
The orgasm doesn’t crash. It blooms.
It starts somewhere deep and rolls outward in waves that don’t seem to end. I’m screaming—I think I’m screaming—but the sound is distant, muffled by the tsunami of pleasure washing through every cell. My walls convulse, tightening around him. He drives deep one final time, and I feel him pulse inside me, hot and claiming.
“Fuuuuuck.” The word is torn from somewhere primal deep in my brain, and he groans and follows me over, pumping me full of hot cum as we shatter together.
Holy hell, it goes on forever. Wave after wave, aftershock after aftershock. All the denied pleasure from the entire day crashes through me at once, and I lose track of where I end and he begins. There’s only release, only the overwhelming relief of finally, finally letting go.
When I come back to myself, I’m wrapped in his arms. Blankets cocoon us. The room is darker than I remember, and I have no idea how long I was gone.
My flesh feels wrung out, liquid, not entirely my own yet. But Leo is there, solid and warm.
“There you are,” he murmurs when I stir. “There’s my sweet girl. You did so well, lass. You were perfect.”
Tears leak from my eyes, but they’re not sad tears. I don’t know what they are. Release, maybe. Everything I held back flooding out now that it’s safe to feel.
“That’s it,” he soothes, his hand stroking through my hair. “Let it out. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He kisses my temple. “You’re safe. You were so beautiful, so brave for me. Such a good girl.”
He holds me tighter, murmuring praise against my skin, and lets me cry.
