He never stopped.

While those evil l*ttle vibrators finally went quiet, the real intimacy (and crazy *dging) began. No more mechanical b*zzing—just him. His warm mouth, his skilled fingers, and the occasional soft swipe of an artist’s brush. It made everything feel so much more personal, so much more devastating. Like he wasn’t just playing with my body anymore... he was making love to it, ruining it, worshipping it, all at the same time.

I was still strapped wide open on the guest-room bed, the metal ring of my obscene l*ttle p*ssy prison holding my swollen lips apart, my clit lifted forward and glistening. Every breath made me throb helplessly for him.

He poured more warm oil letting it drip and pool all over before his fingers began their slow, sensual work. Two thick digits circled my clit in perfect, light strokes—teasing, massaging, never quite giving me what I needed. Then his mouth... Hot and wet, l*cking in a rapid, amazing dance on my clit before sucking gently. I moaned like a wh*re, hips rolling as much as the straps allowed!!

He always took his time. An endless, blissful marathon of destruction.

He’d l*ck me slow and deep until I was right on the edge, then pull back and switch to the thick, fluffy artist brush—stroking my oiled clit in long, worshipping sweeps that felt like velvet kisses. When my moans turned into desperate whimpers he’d slide two fingers inside me, curling them just right while his thumb kept that same feather-light massage on my clit. Every few minutes he’d lean up, oil-slick hands roaming my body, and latch onto my nipples—sucking one, then the other, swirling his tongue around the stiff peaks while his fingers never left my p*ssy!

I was happily losing my f*cking mind.

Hours blurred together in a haze of heat and need. I begged, I whimpered, I gasped out filthy l*ttle pleas that would have mortified the old me. “Please... please let me c*m... I need it so bad...” My voice was hoarse, broken, dripping with desperation. The metal ring kept me perfectly displayed for him, my clit so swollen and sensitive that every single touch felt electric!!

He just kept *dging me .

L*cking. Massaging. Sucking my nipples until they ached with pleasure. Painting my clit with that soft brush until I was shaking and sobbing with want.

Then, finally— finally —he gave in.

He buried his face between my thighs and l*cked my clit nonstop, fast, perfect, relentless strokes of his tongue and I came so f*cking wonderfully, the *rgasm flowing through me like lightning. My toned legs j*rked against the cuffs, my high arches flexing hard down at the foot of the bed, my p*ssy clenching and gushing around nothing as I moaned in a mix of lust, love and filthy need!

But he didn’t stop.

The moment the first *rgasm began to fade he shifted, sliding two fingers into my dripping p*ssy and curling them against my G-spot in slow, sensual strokes. At the same time the thumb of his other hand found my oiled clit again! PERFECT f*cking pressure. Like, almost hard to believe what it felt like! Super-light circles that somehow managed to massage and tickle at the same time, melting my brain c*mpletely!

... Then his mouth closed over my left n*pple, sucking and l*cking it passionately, tongue swirling around the stiff peak while he worked me perfectly. I erupted into my second *rgasm like I was being torn apart by pleasure.

It flooded my entire body—hot, deep, endless. My back arched off the bed as much as the straps allowed, a long, broken moan pouring out of me! My p*ssy pulsed and hugged around his fingers, my clit throbbed wildly under his thumb, and every nerve in my body lit up like fireworks!

When it finally ebbed I was a trembling, blissed-out mess—panting, glowing, c*mpletely spent.

He stayed between my legs a moment longer, gently kissing my oversensitive clit before sprinkling a few kisses on my tummy and inner thigh, before he got up and I was once more greeted by the familiar soft cloth pressing over my mouth and nose again.

This time I didn’t feel afraid.

I felt too good. Too happy. Too deliciously, deeply involved in whatever this insane, erotic game had become. As the world started to fade I realized I had accepted my fate c*mpletely. He was going to keep enjoying my body—my dripping, eager p*ssy, my perfect soles, every inch of me—Teasing, tickling, massaging and worshipping until he was satisfied.

And even if there had been some way to stop him...

I don’t think I would have wanted to.

To Be Continued

xoxo -Gwen

P*ssy Slapping Bound *rgasms P*ssy B*sm The Tickle Bandit Reborn: Chapter 5 with C4s.com

Pssy Slapping Bound rgasms Pssy Bsm The Tickle Bandit Reborn: Chapter 5 with C4s.com