My cock throbs painfully between Sabrina's fingers as she brings me to the edge for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Her touch is divine, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply before backing off, leaving me gasping and desperate in our rumpled sheets.
"You're so beautiful when you're desperate," she whispers, her blue eyes gleaming in the dim bedroom light.
We've been at this for over an hour now. Ever since we got home from Victoria's party and I confessed everything that happened in that office. Sabrina practically tore my clothes off before I'd finished the story, mounting me with an urgency I hadn't expected. That first round was frantic, almost violent in its intensity. But this, this slow, methodical torture, is something else entirely.
"Please," I whimper as she once again brings me to the brink, only to deny me at the last second. My hips buck involuntarily, chasing her retreating touch. "I can't take much more."
"Oh, I think you can," Sabrina purrs, her lips brushing against my collarbone. "My perfect little slut can take so much more than he thinks."
The endearment should sting, should feel degrading, but somehow the way she says it, voice dripping with adoration, transforms it into something like praise. Her free hand strokes my hair back from my sweat-dampened forehead, a gesture so tender it makes my chest ache.
"You did so well tonight," she continues, her fingers resuming their torturous rhythm on my cock. "Getting Victoria to fuck you right there in her office. God, I bet she's still feeling you inside her."
The memory flashes through my mind, Victoria bent over her desk, my release trickling down her thigh. That moment of sickening clarity when I realized what I'd become again. But here, in Sabrina's arms, the sharp edges of that guilt are dulled, softened by her obvious delight.
"I did it for you," I gasp as her thumb circles the sensitive head, spreading the wetness gathered there.
Sabrina's eyes darken with pleasure. "I know you did, baby. That's what makes it so perfect." She leans down to kiss me, her tongue sliding against mine with possessive hunger. "You're such a good boy, giving me exactly what I want."
When she pulls back, her hand has stopped moving entirely. I make a desperate sound in the back of my throat, my body practically vibrating with need.
"Do you like being my little slut?" she asks, spitting into her palm before wrapping her hand around me once more. The added lubrication makes her strokes smoother, more intense.
"Yes," I whisper, arching into her touch, desperate for release. "I love being yours. Everything I am belongs to you."
Her smile widens, radiant with something that makes my heart swell. This is what true love looks like, her happiness at my complete surrender. The way her eyes light up when I give her exactly what she needs, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"You really would do anything for me, wouldn't you?" she asks, her strokes becoming firmer, more purposeful.
"Anything," I gasp, the word tumbling from my lips without hesitation. And I mean it. For Sabrina, I would walk through fire. I would crawl across broken glass. I would seduce a hundred Victorias if it made her look at me the way she's looking at me now, like I'm the center of her universe.
She twists her wrist just so, and I cry out, trembling on the edge of release. "You're mine," she whispers, her voice thick with possession. "No one else gets to have you like this. Not Tara, not Victoria. They just borrow you."
"Only yours," I agree, my voice breaking as her pace quickens. The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of my spine. "Please, Sabrina. Please let me cum."
She studies me for a long moment, her blue eyes cataloging every twitch, every desperate gasp. There's something calculating in her gaze, something that might frighten me if I weren't so far gone with need. But I know this look, it's just her way of savoring the moment, of drinking in my vulnerability like fine wine.
"Since you begged so prettily," she finally says, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "Cum for me now, Leo."
The permission unlocks something deep within me. My body convulses as pleasure explodes through every nerve ending, white-hot and all-consuming.
"Sabrina!" I cry out her name as I spill over her fingers, my vision blurring with ecstasy. Wave after wave crashes through me until I'm left gasping, boneless and spent against our sheets.
As I float back to awareness, Sabrina is licking her fingers, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She looks so beautiful in this moment, flushed with triumph, her eyes glittering with adoration. How did I get so lucky? To have a woman who accepts all of me, even the broken parts.
"I love you so much," I groan, reaching for her.
She allows me to pull her down beside me, curling against my side with a contented sigh. "I love you too," she says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "More than you could ever understand."
We lie tangled in the afterglow, my breathing gradually returning to normal as Sabrina traces lazy patterns across my chest. The bedroom is quiet except for the distant hum of traffic and our synchronized breathing. These are the moments I cherish most, when we're just us, stripped of pretense, wrapped in each other's warmth.
Sabrina shifts beside me, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes have that particular glint that makes my stomach flutter with anticipation and something else, something that feels suspiciously like dread.
"Baby," she says, her voice casual in a way that immediately puts me on alert, "what do you think about taking things up a notch?"
I try to keep my expression neutral despite the cold trickle of unease that slides down my spine. "What do you mean by 'up a notch'?" I ask, hoping my voice sounds steadier than it feels.
She shrugs, her fingertip circling my nipple with deliberate slowness. "I don't know exactly. I just feel like we could push your boundaries a little further." Her blue eyes study my face with that familiar hunger. "What about approaching someone random? Like, maybe you could pick up a stranger on the street."
My heart rate doubles instantly. The thought of propositioning someone I don't know, someone completely unprepared for what I'm offering, it feels dangerous in a way that makes my mouth go dry. Just like working the streets. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the panic bubbling beneath my ribs.
"Is that something you'd enjoy?" I ask carefully.
Her gaze drifts thoughtfully to the ceiling. "Or maybe," she continues as if I hadn't spoken, "you could try something more sustained. What about having an actual girlfriend?" Her eyes find mine again, razor-sharp with focus. "What if you dated Tara?"
The name hits me like a physical blow. Memories flood back, Tara's hands on my body, her confession of love in that seedy motel room, the way she looked at me like I belonged to her. My pulse thunders in my ears.
"Date Tara?" I repeat, struggling to keep my voice even. "As in, regularly see her? Without you there?"
Sabrina's smile widens, her fingers trailing down my stomach. "Exactly. You'd go on proper dates, spend time together, sleep with her whenever you both wanted."
I feel the air leave my lungs as Sabrina's words sink in. Dating Tara? Regular dates and sex without Sabrina present? The idea makes my head spin.
"Maybe you could even spend a week at her house," Sabrina suggests, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "Like a little vacation. Hell, why stop at a week?"
"I doubt Tara would agree to that," I say quickly, the words tumbling out as a reflexive defense. Even as I speak, I recognize my own lie, it's not about Tara's willingness, but my fear of being away from Sabrina for so long, of sliding too far back into a life I fought to escape.
Sabrina's laugh is light, almost musical. "Tara would definitely take you in, honey. I'm sure she'd agree at the drop of a hat." Her eyes gleam with certainty as she props herself up higher, studying my face. "You know she's still obsessed with you."
I swallow hard, unable to deny the truth in her words. The memory of Tara whispering "I still love you" while riding me in that seedy motel flashes through my mind.
Sabrina's expression shifts suddenly, her head tilting with curiosity. "You told me once that you did a gang bang, right?"
The question hits me like ice water. My stomach clenches as unwanted memories surface, the alley, the smell of garbage, five women circling me like vultures. Their laughter as they held me down. The pain. The humiliation. The way they left me there afterward, bleeding and broken.
"Yeah," I manage, the single syllable scraping my throat raw. I don't add the rest, that it wasn't consensual, that it was the closest thing to hell I've ever experienced. That it was gang rape, not a gang bang.
"Would you ever be open to another one?" Sabrina asks, her eyes suddenly alight with excitement. She sits up fully now, the sheet falling away from her naked body as she gestures enthusiastically. "I could find some friends, or maybe we could post an ad online. We could host it hotel."
I stare at her, at the eager anticipation written across her beautiful face. She has no idea what she's asking. No concept of the trauma she's casually suggesting I revisit. But how could she? I've never told her the truth about that night.
I should tell her now. Open my mouth and let the ugly truth spill out. Make her understand why her request feels like she's asking me to set myself on fire for her entertainment.
But then I look back at her eyes, those bright blue eyes filled with such excitement, such hope, and I can't bear to extinguish that light. To disappoint her. To be less than what she wants.
"I'd do anything you want me to do, Sabrina," I hear myself say, the words hollow yet genuinely sincere.
Her face transforms with pure joy, like I've just handed her the moon. She lunges forward, pressing her lips against my forehead.
"Of course you would. My perfect, beautiful Leo."