dreamland (bill skarsgard one shots)

13. suspension and release

WARNINGS: dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, bondage, spitting, orgasm denial, this is just complete filth
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Why did I agree to this?

That was the thought, the only thought, that kept replaying in your head over and over. Why had you agreed to this?

In the beginning, it had sounded like fun. Wicked, sinful fun. You had been the one to bring it up, after all. You'd gone to your lover and proposed the idea. And he, ever the sinner, had eagerly agreed. The decision was mutual, and when he had asked you if he could do anything he desired to you, within reason and boundary, you had told him yes.

But now here you were, naked, writhing, trembling. He was above you, a devious smile on his handsome face. And in that moment, with his pale eyes burning right into your own, you were beginning to regret even suggesting this whole thing. He was punishing you in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it.

He had you stretched out across the mattress, arms tied to the headboard, legs bound and held apart so he could easily access the very center of you. Your skin was slick with sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you put every ounce of energy you had into holding on to what little control over yourself you had left.

You could feel that all too familiar burn in your lower abdomen, threatening to engulf you in pleasure. But you couldn't let go, not yet. You just had to hold out a little while longer, and you would finally get your reward. But goddammit, it was hard.

Maybe it would be a little easier if you could make noise, let out your frustration through cries and moans. You weren't allowed to make a sound, though, per his rules. If you so much as let out a whimper, you would be denied your orgasm, and would endure whatever punishment he deemed fit.

When he'd told you this, you had underestimated just how hard it would be. Now, you were wishing you had never let him make the rule, because all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs.

You'd lost track of time. Had it been minutes? Hours? He'd had that damned vibrator against your cunt for ages, on high, a setting you hardly used together because it was so intense. But he was feeling ruthless today, and was quite enjoying the sight of you squirming uncomfortably, pulling at your restraints. You looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to offer some relief from the intense vibration, but he refused to oblige.

Bill knew your body well, had you memorized like the back of his hand. He knew how you moved when you were about to tip over the edge, knew the look on your face, the tense in your muscles. And whenever he saw those telltale signs, he pulled the vibrator away promptly, leaving you to buck your hips into the air and sigh in bitter frustration.

He was enjoying this, really. He'd never seen you so desperate before, he had to admit. It had his head spinning, body warm with desire. All he wanted was to be inside you, feel your slippery warmth envelop him. But he was exercising every ounce of self control he had. He would be inside you in due time. Right now, his priority was getting you to the edge again, give you a taste of release before pulling away just when your body was nearly at its peak.

He watched you bite the inside of your cheek, surely hard enough to draw blood. You were trying your best to respect his wishes, follow his command, and for that, he loved you. You were his good girl, and he made a mental note to reward you tenfold after he was finished with you. You were handling this all better than he thought you would.