𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎? {𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗}

'sᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ,

This chapter contains mature content involving dub-con, bondage, degradation, breath play, and pain play. Reader discretion is advised.

I unfolded my legs, slowly moving them apart and watching his mouth open just the same. My underwear matched my corset. Lacy, and red. I threw the flimsy fabric to where he was now sitting up straight.

His eyes were wide, a mixture of desire and confusion. He tried to catch the red lace before realising his hands were still tied.

"Untie me."

"No." My hands lowered to my breasts, slowly massaging the flesh before trailing south. I touched the sensitive skin of my hips, my inner thighs, and my neck. Torturing myself alongside him, amplifying the pleasure that came with every slight graze.

He didn't utter another word, realising this was a battle he couldn't win. "If you move an inch, this is over."

He grasped my meaning. I didn't mean the show I was putting on to exert my hostile power on him, this meant everything me and Charlie were. His head moved, affirming he understood my terms.

"All I wanted..." I circled my finger around the sensitive nub, feeling the wetness already spreading. "...was skin. Yours, mine... just skin."

My breathing escalated, my voice coming out as a breathy whisper. I pinched my nipple with my other hand. "God, I wanted you. Just you, always you."

"I saw you," He suddenly spoke, pulling me out of my heady pleasure. "In your sexy little dress that night. I wanted to ravage you," He paused. "But you were with him."

My fingers paused their motion, unable to comprehend the accusation at first. Then, they started again with a renewed vigour. I laughed, it sounded more like a moan. "You absolute fucking fool."

I slipped a finger inside my entrance, a loud moan escaping my lips at the movement. His body jerked up as if he was about to grab me, but he forced himself down in time.

"Mmm..." I breathed, my words slipping out matching my fingers. "He has a girlfriend. He's not in love with me."

His mouth was agape, the revelation seizing his motor functions. I tapped the chair twice with my free hand, bringing his attention back to me.

"I suppose nobody is in love with me."

A delirious laugh followed the pathetic confession. I couldn't find the right emotion, I was too busy finding the right juncture to reach the peak that would somehow liberate me from this agonising torment.

As if my orgasm would make up for the fact that the man I loved didn't love me back.

My fingers increased their pace, my hand desperately grabbing my breasts as their handle. I had to prove that I didn't need him. My fingers could replace every morsel of pleasure he had bestowed upon me. So what if I searched for his image in every other man in my future life? I would have this — this moment of insanity, of deranged pleasure and absolute salvation.

With a rapid flick on the growing nub, I burst into the white pleasure. My senses grew numb, but not nearly enough. My orgasm flew through my body but left no aftershocks.

It was a cruel joke. As if my body had forgotten how to exist without him. My arched back and my hips straining to find him after achieving the climax were evidence I did not want to confront.

"Was it any good?" He spoke up, his voice was husky. His eyes were hooded with desire and tainted amusement.

I nodded yes, I couldn't lie. Not when my body was so clearly giving him the answer he wanted to hear. My eyes fell on the oversized tent bulging in his pants. Now I was the one with a corrupted smile.