Page 58 of Wraith

“You like this, don’t you? You like me hurting you.”

“Yes, Mistress June.”

I whip him again. Across his abs. Across his chest. Each strike measured, controlled, leaving faint red lines that will fade but right now mark him as mine. He’s making sounds now, low and desperate, and I can see the way his hands are pulling against the cuffs, not to escape but just to have something to do with the intensity.

“Please,” he says.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me, Mistress June.”

I set the whip down and hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Drag them down slowly, torturously slowly, until his cock springs free. He’s fully hard, the head already wet, and when I wrap my hand around him he makes a sound that’s almost a whimper.

“Is this what you want?” I stroke him once, twice, watching his face.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

I lower my head and take him into my mouth.

He shouts. His hips jerk up, and I have to hold them down with one hand, establish my control, make sure he knows I’m the one setting the pace. I work him with my mouth and my hand, taking him deep, using my tongue the way I remember he likes, and his sounds turn desperate.

His cock submits to my tongue, to my lips, to my hand; with my tongue lavishing attention on him, with my head bobbing up and down on his rock hard cock, with my hand stroking his shaft and fondling his balls, I suck him, I tease him, I please him, I worship his thick cock.

Then I pause, for just a moment, his cock resting against my tongue and his thighs and hips moving with involuntary need.

I relax my throat.

Take him as deep as I can swallow.

“June, fuck, I’m going to come.”

I pull off immediately.

He makes a sound of pure frustration, his cock twitching, right on the edge but not there, and I look up at him with a smile that feels wicked.

“Not yet,” I say. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

“Please.”

“No.”

I pick up the whip again and bring it down across his chest. He’s so sensitive now that even the slightest strike makes him gasp and writhe. I whip him again and again, watching the way his cock stays hard despite the pain, or maybe because of it.

“Beg me,” I say.

“Please, Mistress June. I want to come. I need it. Will you let me, please?”

“No. Not yet. Not until I’ve had mine. Until you’ve shown yourself to be a good boy who deserves to come.”

“Then please let me taste you. Please let me make you come. I need it. I need you.”

The words do something to me. Something that makes my pussy clench and my skin feel too tight. I set the whip aside and pull off my panties, the last barrier between us, and climb up his body until I’m positioned over his face.

“I’m going to sit on your face. You’re going to eat my pussy until I come,” I say, looking down at him. “And you’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress June.”

Hearing those words from his mouth, in that reverent tone, sends a thrill through me that’s almost as intense as physical touch. I lower myself onto his face and feel his mouth immediately on me, his tongue finding my clit, and the sensation makes my thighs shake.