Sinful Nights: A Filthy Collection of Steamy Stories
Pleasure began to build, a slow, rising tide.
“Please, sir,” I whispered, my hips starting to move against the machine, trying to take it deeper.
“Did I say you could speak?” he asked, his voice cold. He turned the dial again.
The machine was fucking me hard now, a relentless, pounding rhythm. The sound of it, the wet, slapping noise, filled the room. The pleasure was overwhelming, a pressure cooker about to explode. I was so close. I could feel the orgasm coiling in my stomach, my toes curling.