Discarding the whip with a flick of his wrist, Q dropped his hand to wrap around his thick girth. He stroked once, twice. His long fingers fully encasing himself as he pumped strong and sure.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Everything inside quivered. The just out-of-reach orgasm echoed in my pu**y, clenching, calling to Q’s perfect cock.

I wanted to be Q’s fingers. I wanted to be his flesh. I wanted to be his c**k receiving such pleasure. I wanted everything about him, and yet he gave me nothing.

I trailed my eyes up his physique, over his rigid stomach, skittering over his intricate tattoo, along his chest, up his stubble-smooth chin and parted lips until I finally looked him in the eye.

It felt as if the world exploded on its axis, tripping, spinning, hurling me headlong into sin and debauchery.

“You want me. Don’t you, Tess.” Q’s voice dropped to gruff and midnight. Still stroking himself with one hand, he came forward and cupped between my spread legs.

I moaned as his touch acted like gasoline on an already blazing inferno. “Q, please,” I warbled, my tongue too heavy to form proper sentences.

His fingers were little sticks of dy***ite, and I begged to light them for a cataclysmic explosion.

He swayed toward me, stroking himself harder, drawing drops of glistening pr**cum.

My heart roared in my ears. I fought the restraints. I needed to be free. I needed to lick and bite him. I needed to f**k him with an urgency I’d never felt before.

Q tutted under his breath. “You want to be free?” He nuzzled my neck, licking at the sore skin from his earlier bite. “You’ll never be free again. Je te garde pour toujours.” I’m keeping you forever.

Oxygen no longer held merit as Q inserted two fingers deep inside me, pulsating in time with his strokes on his cock. I bucked, desperate to get closer. Fingers weren’t enough.

Take me! Own me.

Q groaned as he fisted himself, working harder. “Fuck, I want my c**k inside you. To be deep in your darkness, your wetness, your f**king sweet pu**y.” He pressed another finger deep, and my back bowed.

I moaned, eyes squeezed shut against the siege of euphoria. “Do it. Please, God, do it.”

“So eager. So keen,” he growled, his hand working harder, fingers throttling his cock.

I moaned, nodding. “For you, yes. Always for you.”

He trembled, groaning under his breath. “Only for me, esclave. All mine.” He fingered me harder. His thumb found my clit, swirling in time to the tempo he set. Rocking, possessing, mind-shattering.

His thumb was magic, conjuring swirling, sparking energy to centre on his touch. My stomach tensed as my core tightened around him, demanding to be filled, to be satisfied and taken, but Q just kept up the maddening erotic beat. Thrust, swirl, thrust. His hand worked his erection, bringing more blood to his cock, so it heated and wept with clear liquid. Liquid I wanted to lap. His balls tightened, sitting high and full, straining with the need to come.

With his fingers still deep inside me, Q stopped stroking himself to fumble with one of the straps around my wrists. I groaned as the tightness released, letting blood gush into my hands.

He never faltered in his rhythm as he undid the cuffs around my neck and other wrist. When I was free, he placed my hand on his cock.

His velvety heat was like the trigger on my release. My body clamped around his fingers as the first ripple milked him hard. So f**king good. My hand squeezed Q tightly. He hissed, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the heady thrill of finally giving in to the body-aching orgasm.

I felt eternally heavy as if gravity increased a thousand fold and then I let go, embracing the next wave of my orgasm, pulsing around my heart, wrapped tight around my spine and inner thighs, blazing with need.

Q slapped my hand away from his c**k and withdrew his fingers.

No!

I gasped as the orgasm faltered, and, with no stimulation, receded like a pitiful wave.

“Why? Let me come. Please, let me come!” I begged, reaching for him with my freed arms.

He ducked out of reach, unleashing my ankles before standing again. Trailing his fingers over my torso, he turned his hands to claws, raking nails across me. He didn’t break the skin, but the burn activated the whip marks, encouraging pain to smoulder. Reaching my waist, he undid the final strap and pulled me from the cross.

With a grim mouth, he murmured, “I’m not done with you yet. When you come, it will feel so f**king unbelievable you won’t be able to move.”

He gathered me into his arms, pressing his forehead against mine and breathing deep. “Promise to obey everything I say. If you even think of rebelling or speaking against me, I’ll not be held accountable. T’as compris?” Do you understand?

I was speechless. For Q to demand I obey him, to allow him full control and acceptance never happened. He got off on fighting, on denial. I wanted to ask so many questions, but held my tongue and nodded.

I would’ve promised to do anything if it meant I could finally come.

Q backed away a little, crooking his finger for me to follow. “Come here.”

My feet moved on their own accord. I wanted to pounce on him and tackle him to the ground. Yet Q made no move to finish what he started.

My eyes darted between his intense gaze and heavy cock.

Q pointed at the ground by his feet. “Kneel.”

With a racing heart, I obeyed, folding to the floor as gracefully as I could with ten tonne lust-riddled limbs. The thick carpet welcomed, easing some of the soreness from the cross.

Q placed a hand on my head before walking slowly behind me. His fingers stayed locked with my hair, tugging it a little. With powerful hands, he gathered the strands. I shivered.

He captured every wisp and unruly curl, then twisted the thick strands until he made a blonde rope.

With a jerk, he pulled my head back until my heels jammed into my ass. “I like being able to control you this way, esclave.”

His mouth descended on mine from above. The upside-down awkwardness added a new dimension to our kiss, and I opened wide to let his tongue possess me. Controlling me with my hair, Q stole my breath, making me squirm.

My hands clenched into fists on my thighs, and I wanted more than anything to touch myself and come. I couldn’t stand the ache much longer—the unbearable need to explode.

Withdrawing from the kiss, Q wrapped my hair around my neck. The tickling strands wrapped around my throat made me claustrophobic. Small pops of panic burst in my bloodstream. I didn’t think I could stand to be strangled again.

Q stalked back to stand in front of me; my eyes fell to his cock. Pre-cum smeared down the underside of his velvety skin. I licked my lips.

His belly rippled with need and he groaned, taking a step closer. Our eyes burned holes in each other and we didn’t say a word. He stood still, apart from the slight twitch of his hips, the unconscious plea to give him what I desperately wanted.

I sat higher on my knees, reaching with shaky hands to clasp his hot length. My fingers latched around him, tight and unforgiving.

His head fell back, and the moan dragged from his throat vibrated in my pu**y. If he kept making sounds like that I’d come from the power of his voice alone.

I stroked him once and his heavy hands landed on my head, exerting a little pressure, giving me a request.

My mouth watered as I bowed my head. The hair tightened around my throat. The moment my tongue touched his cock, I knew why he’d lassoed my hair around me. My airway was already compromised. Sucking his c**k diminished it even more. Breathing thorough my nose didn’t help—every breath became a struggle.

My nostrils flared in fear, but I opened wide and sucked Q’s girth deep into my mouth. He threaded his fingers into my strands, holding my head prisoner as my tongue lapped from beneath and my lips clamped tight around him.

He rocked deeper into me, pressing down on my head. “Take it. Fuck.”

My pu**y clenched, and I could’ve cried with how much I wanted his c**k deep inside me. Anger and frustration bubbled, and I dared scrape my teeth along his length, testing him, showing him how on edge I was.

He thrust harder, causing my jaw to lock and teeth to mar such delicate flesh. The thick head of his c**k hit the back of my mouth and the urge to gag suffocated me. I tried to take a deep breath, but my hair didn’t allow my lungs to fill.

Desperation grew and grew until my chest ached and my heart galloped. And yet I kept sucking, kept stroking. Q was in a different dimension, petting my head, taking my mouth with his eyes tightly closed.

“Your mouth is f**king heaven,” he grunted.

His c**k rippled as I sucked harder, determined to make him truly mean what he said. I wanted him to unravel. I wanted it to be over so I could breathe again.

Anxiety made me bold. I slid one hand between his legs and cupped his balls.

He jolted. His h*ps stopped their searching rock. For a second, I wondered if he’d stop me. Maybe I wasn’t allowed to touch him there, but the second passed, and he relaxed again.

I squeezed the tender flesh, rolling them in my fingertips. He twitched, and his muscular thighs quivered.

Looking up, I imprinted how he looked in that moment. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth in a grimace. He looked like an evil demigod. A living relic of sinful sex.