You're so small and helpless. I know how hard you try to conceal your eagerness, but it's not going to work. Not with me.
As I wrap my fingers tightly around your neck, you press your legs together.
Do you have something you're hiding from me? I yank your legs even further apart, loosening my tie as you part your lips slightly, emitting a small mewl as you bend your knees.
I grab a fistful of your hair with one hand and use the other to yank down your underwear, and all throughout this, you've maintained your composure quite well.
I'm impressed... but, well, not that impressed. You'll be easy to *****.
All it takes is a few tiny gestures... small movements.
Something simple can drive you so crazy, mm?
I trace my fingers in little circles, just above your core, getting just low enough so that I'm almost brushing over your ****. Almost.
I'm only satisfied when I notice the impatience growing on your face.
You seem surprised as I drag you across the bed, towards the edge, and grab your wrists, using my tie to bound them together.
You seem even more surprised as I suddenly begin to rub my fingers along your slit.
Is it moving too quickly for you? Are your thoughts in a blur?
My fingers aren't stopping, sweetheart, and, oh-
3 are already inside you now.
It doesn't seem like you're handling it very well at all, I can feel your ***** constricting desperately around my digits, but guess what?
I'm not going to stop.
You're rocking your hips against my hand, but that isn't doing much for you, obviously, because I can practically see that adrenaline building up inside of you.
I can see your frustration in the flush of your cheeks.
You'll *** when I decide.
As I hook my fingers inside of you, dramatically speeding up my pace, I can see you believing you're almost there.
"Yes, yes, yes, that's the spot, faster, faster--"
Then, my fingers are gone.
I hear you mutter "****" underneath your breath, and that pulls a chuckle out of me.
Where's your composure now?
One finger slides inside of you once again, much slower than before. Your eagerness is still at its peak now, but you can't reach your high this way, honey. I curl and uncurl my finger, adding another, and another, and you moan in satisfaction.
You can't even rock your hips once I've held them down, and my spontaneous fluctuation in pace can only leave you wondering when you'll finally be relieved.
I rub my thumb in circles around your ****, once again rotating my fingers inside of you, and you're just about a mess at this point.
You're screaming, whimpering, pleading me to have some mercy on you. Your voice fills the room to the brim.
I only increase my pace thereafter, and your voice gets caught in your throat,
is it washing through you now?