1. Other Colors -- Ch. 18


    Date: 9/12/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    Part 2 – Blue (continued) Chapter 18 “Penny?” he growled at me across an ocean. I shuddered, and shut my eyes. I didn't dare answer him. I couldn't part my lips, for fear a telltale moan may escape, and slip its way into the receiver. I was close still—very close. He'd caught me, as it were, red-handed. My fingers were still pressed between my thighs. My hips still rocked, slowly, to-and-fro over the smooth, warm leather of his chair. Venus of Urbino. Rose petals in one hand. In the other? “Penny,” he spoke again, more sternly, and I felt the free ends of my muscles begin to unravel, and fray. “I’m not playing games tonight. Speak.” I tried. I opened my mouth, and that was all it took. I couldn't stop myself. A tetany spread through me; a gold, galvanic current that tingled into my bones, and singed the pale peripheries of my skin. I breathed a soft, agonal sigh into the receiver as the throbbing peaked, and evanesced. It will sound ridiculous, but there was an explosive urgency to it that I can only liken to unsuccessfully stifling a sneeze. The sound I made, however, begged him for no ‘God bless you’. For a few unbearable moments, the line was silent. I bit my lip until it stung, humiliated to the point of melting. I couldn’t allow myself to hope he hadn't noticed. Three nights in a row now, he’d coaxed that unmistakable moan from my lips. He knew its timbre, and its tremor. It was a melody he must have known by heart. “Bozhe moi,” he breathed, and my face began to burn ...
    even hotter. “You just came. Didn't you?” My instinct, of course, was to lie. But even over the phone, I sensed he could see through me like a pane of glass. I swallowed my instincts, and spoke. “…I did, sir.” Again, silence. I cringed. My ‘sirs’ and ‘ma’ams’—relics of being reared by a southern Catholic mother—always managed to exhume themselves in moments of deference and confession. The word hung in the air between us, a wisp of blue smoke from the censer. “You were touching yourself when I rang?” It was less a question than an indictment. The crease in my brow cut deeper. “I was, sir.” “I see,” his voice, still sharp, seemed to soften slightly. “Then I should have called sooner. I would have liked to listen in, Penny. Start to finish.” I smirked weakly, my skin still red as rust. “I’m sorry, sir.” “I’m not,” his tone was sly. “I’m glad you’ve learned to come when I call.” It was a miserable pun, but I couldn’t open my eyes wide enough to roll them. Pavlov’s puppy. I grimaced. He’d have me salivating at the sound of a bell. "Tell me,” he pressed, “what precisely does Penny Foster fantasize about when she masturbates?” I slumped forward, my forehead resting on his desk, unable to sustain the weight of the embarrassment. “Please,” I begged, “don’t tease me, Dmitri. I’ll die.” “I wouldn’t dare, Miss Foster. I swear,” he leered at me, “There’s not a mystery in this world that intrigues me more.” I shut my eyes, “must I really say it, sir?” He snarled softly, “Must I really answer ...
«1234...1112»